#oh my god and the part where it’s flicking between the different versions of the band but they’re all placed in the exact same positions so-

[mellohimelody]

WAIT THAT WAS SO COOL WHAT FBE FUCK

[sapphicwhxre]

behind closed doors

♡ pairing: harry potter x reader x ginny weasley

♡ summary: ginny wants to add a third person to her sex life with harry and you make them both glad he said yes.

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: oh my god it's FILTH ─ swearing, threesome smut, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, fingering, vaginal sex, praise/possession kink, scissoring, overstimulation, nipple play/praise, cum slut stuff but i got no clue what to tag that as. also i didn’t proofread or edit because if i reread any of this shit i know it won’t get posted LMAO

it was funny, really.

everyone thought the chosen one was this awkward, inexperienced git when it came to sex. and they all thought the youngest and only girl of the weasleys must be this pure little princess. but, they were oh so wrong and you knew that first hand.

you knew because harry was almost at his breaking point. he didn’t think there was anything as precious or plain sexy as ginevra weasley but merlin, did she have some odd kinks. he’d do them all for her, even enjoyed some of them. but this one had harry redder than dragon breath.

“ginny, i don’t want another guy with his hands on you when we’re being intimate!”

finally snapping, harry was flushed and frustrated. it was the second time ginny had brought up the possibility of bringing another person into their bedroom and harry did not see the appeal. the weasley girl perked an eyebrow, however, and laughed.

“who said anything about a guy, dear?” ginny toyed with a charm on the bracelet you’d given her and shook her head. “you know my friend, y/n, don’t you?”

the boy’s eyes widened behind his glasses and his mouth went a bit dry. “yes,” was all he managed, trying to remember what house you were even in. what he did remember was that you were quite the sight to look at.

ginny grabbed harry's hand, “we had a bit of a thing before you and i. she’s a fun person, she’d do it without any strings attached.”

how had harry had no idea that his girlfriend had been sleeping with y/n? and why did the idea of letting her into the equation arouse him so much? although surprised that ginny felt absolutely no jealousy or even batted an eye at the situation, he found himself grinning when ginny did at his sudden nod.

this was how you’d ended up with harry potter’s cock buried in your pussy while your face was in ginny’s. and right now, it wasn’t very funny at all. what it was fell under the category of fucking like heaven.

“oh, good girl, just like that, y/n!”

ginny moaned with her head thrown back. her eyes were rolling back into her head with every moan she heard from her boyfriend paired with the warm vibrations of yours meeting her pussy. “look so pretty, taking harry’s cock for us,” you responded to her dirty praise by a finger into her dripping cunt, your tongue still assaulting her folds and your ass in the air. she moaned even louder and barely made eye contact with harry, who was still thrusting into your clenching walls. “so good, y/n... blimey, gin, she’s so tight,”

“and ours,” the panting girl added, her hands now gripping your hair messily. “our pretty little slut, in’t that right, harry?” he agreed with a rather distracted grunt but ginny was too occupied to respond, screaming as you put your fingers as deep into her as you could, curling and pumping while your tongue kept adoring her clit. “oh, y/n, y/n, y/n,” it was impossible at this point to tell whose moans were whose and who was saying your name louder, but either way it was addicting.

“f-fuck!” you babbled incoherently, harry and ginny's names both getting lost on the way out of your mouth. harry burst into you with a final, shallow thrust, moaning like a porn star. your orgasm clenched your stomach and your walls tightened around harry’s dick while you came, the white liquid seeping out into ginny’s view. your breathy moan was hot on ginny’s throbbing pink pussy and the sight made her want to come, hard. you took your fingers away and instantly replaced them with your tongue. gripping her thighs tightly, you let all of her sweet cum enter your mouth and drip down your chin eagerly.

“oh, that’s a good girl,” ginny was breathing fast and giving both of you a toothy grin ─ one which you and harry returned. “how hot does she look, harry?”

“so hot,” harry gasped, forehead sweaty and cheeks flushed red. “so hot covered in our cum, she knows that, doesn’t she?”

nodding and flustered, you tried to gather yourself after being fucked and fucking ginny at the same time but you were flipped onto your back. a loud yelp caught both ginny and harry and they both wore different smirks on their face. harry's said he was nothing short of loving the experience and ginny was thinking of ways to make it better for the former... and herself.

“open,” she commanded, biting her bottom lip with the cockiest look on her face. without any hesitation, you spread your legs as wide as you could to let ginny do whatever she wanted with you. “good little girl, you’ll be rewarded,” she hummed and you were desperate to be touched again. “but first ‘m gonna let harry have a bit more fun, show him just how good you are with that pretty mouth.”

the messy haired boy was already pumping up and down his shaft, tip as pink as his cheeks. “open?” harry’s request was softer but in some way, just as sexy as ginny’s. you parted your lips just enough to take his tip between them and sucked softly, eyes intent on harry while you did so. his were already scrunched in need and you made your way down, cum covered lips and saliva wetting his dick for you to suck him better. with hollowed cheeks, you bobbed up and down on his length, feeling more and more satisfied with his bucks hitting your throat. even gagging on his cock and nose hitting right above where he was slapping against his own skin, you moaned and sucked until ginny spit on your cunt.

“oh,” you let out muffled on harry. no longer watching you two, ginny was lowering her own pussy onto yours and the heat of both your aroused cunts felt heavenly. you whimpered with your lips around harry, tears streaming down your face, hoping to be touched by ginny. your wish was granted as you moaned muffled again and she sank onto you, using your thigh to ride your pussy. clits rubbing against one another with deliciously rough friction, cock all the way into your mouth, you saw stars. it didn’t even matter whose cum was dripping down your leg when the pleasure you felt was so mindblowing and harry was spilling his seed down your throat. “good little cum slut,” ginny rubbed your clit harshly.

“ginny, this is so good,” you groaned, on the verge of a sob, “but ‘m too sensitive, just let me please you guys,”

as if you’d told a funny joke, she laughed and turned to harry. “your turn baby, i want that pretty, pretty mouth back between my legs now that she’s all swollen and sexy,”

“poor thing,” harry chuckled at your scream when he attached his mouth to your soaked and abused pussy. his hands yanked you by the ass and he ate you out like you were a fucking pumpkin pasty. ginny lowered to sit this time on your mouth, facing harry’s buried head. whimpering almost pitifully, though extremely sexy to the couple you were pleasing, your tongue took messy movements to ginny’s pussy.

she was so wet that it didn't matter how out of it the sensations had you, your open mouth on her core was enough to have ginny spitting moan after moan. “cum now, y/n, i know you’ve got another one left in you,” harry cooed. you couldn’t even object with your mouth so preoccupied and all coherent thoughts being smashed by harry’s tongue fucking your hole. “that's it,” his teeth grazed you while you came and your sob on ginny’s pussy sent her to the very edge of her orgasm.

right then and there, she could have orgasmed all over your flushed face but she held on and took her pale fingers to your breasts. “i think she’s got one more in her harry, fuck her one more time,” she purred, hips bucking on your lips. the strangled moan you exhaled made harry beam while he prepared to enter you again. “you love it, don't you?” your mouth tasting between ginny’s slick folds wouldn’t let you scream his name, but you desperately wanted to when harry pushed all of his inches into you. “being just a pretty cum slut?”

in only a minute, ginny’s release washed over your face and flooded your senses. all you tasted was the last ginny had before she collpased beside you, panting heavily. she watched as harry kept fucking you like you were theirs. “pretty tits bouncing, shame we didn't give ‘em too much attention,” she chirped. your teary eyes widened, you weren’t sure if you could take ginny touching your breasts on top of harry pounding into you. but you desperately wanted to.

it must have showed in your eyes, or admittedly, in ginny’s desire because she wrapped her lips around one of your nipples and pinched the other one before switching to soft flicking. “so tasty,” she alternated, praising both your tits with her skilled fingers and warm mouth. about to coax you into your orgasm, you finished loudly and harry let himself release the second that you did. pulling out, he found his way next to ginny and wrapped his hands around her waist while she focused on your tits, tired yet euphoric. “aren’t they perfect?” ginny hummed contently and released them, and harry stroked your hair and ginny's.

“y’know, perfect’s just one word i’d use for this.”

the lovely filth of having the wild versions of harry potter and ginny weasley all to yourself were some of your best nights, you often thought. though you supposed deep down that they were the ones who had you to themselves, you didn’t care. what mattered much more was that you ─ and certainly ginny and harry ─ were quite glad that you were their good, little slut.

─────♡

[divinefireangel]

Bliss

SF9 Chani x F! Reader Smut drabble.

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Yeah just enjoy this 😂. Idek. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Oral (f receiving). Porn with no plot. Short as hell.

Summary: Whe he eats you out for the first time ever

Almost 0.6k Words

A nice lovely day, perfect for some reading. Grabbing my book, I lay down on the couch, resting my head in a comfortable position to start my little reading session. Being so engrossed in the book, I didn't even notice when my boyfriend finished his zoom meeting and came into the room.

" I wanna give you oral. " Chani said making me choke on air.

" What? "

" I want to eat you out. Do you not want me to? "

" What. No. Oh that's not what I - It's just so sudden. "

" Oh. I've never given oral before, and you give amazing head, so I just wanted to return the favour. " He said cutely. But his eyes telling a different story.

" Baby. You know you don't have to. "

" I know. But I want to. " Leaning down, getting closer to me, Chani captures my lips with his, hands pressing my body, running down my sides, sending heat between my legs.

Pulling away, Chani stares into my eyes with his confident ones, as one of his hands take the book away from my hands to place it on a nearby table. Kissing my body over my shirt, he starts to make his way down, to where I need him most right now. Swallowing, I lift my hips as he removes my pants and panties in one go.

Parting my knees with his palms, Chani licks his lips, before staring in my eyes again as he lowers his head to my sex. Maintaining eyes contact, he licks a bold strip up my folds with his moist tongue. I gasp, my eyes closing automatically once he does the same motion again and again, momentarily stopping to catch his breath. Moving my legs over his shoulders, he uses his lips to suck on my swollen clit. Arching my back I can't help but roll my hips into his mouth, my hand flying to his hair, pulling it as he drives me insane.

Just as I'm about to open my eyes to look at him, one of his thumbs find my clit again, as he starts to fuck my entrance with his tongue.

" Oh my god Chani! "

" You taste really good babe. Fuck I should've done this sooner. " He says before continuing to licklick me dry.

Pulling away, he licks two of his fingers, entering me with them while his mouth latches on to my clit, sucking and licking it alternatively.

Arching my back again, I cry out his name over and over as my high approaches. How is he so good when he hasn't done this before.

" Are you sure this is your first time eating someone out? " Smirking against my inner thigh, he begins to pump his fingers faster. Spreading my folds open, he laps at my bud mercilessly. Feeling highly overwhelmed, cumming on his fingers, I shudder and squirm as he removed his fingers and licks my sex clean of any cum and purposely flicking my sensitive clit with his tongue to make me whine.

Breathing deeply, I bite my lip enjoying my post orgasm bliss. Kissing my cheek, Chani grins as I open my eyes to look at him. Tracing up and down his back I lean up to kiss him, feeling his back muscles move beneath my fingertips.

" You're really good. We should do it more. " Laughing at my remark, he hid his face in my neck, as I picked my book to continue reading.

[sweetwritertanya]

Perfect Timing

Summary: Taehyung wakes up alone in bed but soon finds you roaming around in the kitchen… almost nude. And a particular remark on your part leads him to uncover a certain kink he wasn’t even aware he had.

Warnings: SMUT! With a hint of fluff, like it’s my usual, but it is 95% smut! Beware of: swearing, erotic body touching, dirty talk, fingering, oral (female receiving), handjobs, marking (just a tiny bit), size kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex (well, duh. But be safe IRL!!!), kitchen sex, doggy style, multiple orgasms (female receiving)

Word Count: 3894

Taehyung woke up slowly, barely opening the lids of his eyes before closing them again to protect from the low light coming in through the small breeches of the blinds. He felt his body hefty and tried to fall back asleep, but his mind was already too much active for that. Rolling over his body, his heavy hands searched around the bed for another figure, your fluffy warm physique that he particularly loved holding in the early mornings. But you were not there, the bed cold without you, even in the warm summer morning.

Frowning, he opens his round sharp eyes just a slit, noticing the moved empty sheets on your side of the bed. Stretching and yawning, Taehyung reaches for his phone and realizes it’s already past ten in the morning. After a few minutes checking his social media and answering a few text messages, he decides to get up.

Getting out of the bedroom, clad in only his boxers and an old red t-shirt, he moves silently down the hallway as he hears rummaging in the kitchen. Peeking his head in the doorway, he smiles and stays slightly hidden from your field of view. The unmistakable scent of freshly made pancakes filled the air and he was sure you had been preparing breakfast. Right now, you were bending down next to a tail-wagging Yeontan, filling his bawl with dry food for him to eat too.

Taehyung licks his lips and his throat grows dry as he notices you are just wearing small cotton panties and a white tank top, probably because you had the tendency to overheat at night during summer. Your fleshy thighs, with dimples of cellulite clinging in the back, and your round ample ass were on full display for him when you bent down and a burning stirring feeling shot straight to his groin.

You smile as you pat the little furry dog’s head, the feeling of being watched making you turn around to notice Taehyung leaning against the kitchen’s doorway. He still looked sleepy, dark hair messy and untamed from turning in the bed, barefoot, eyes with heavy monolids.

“Look who’s awake, Yeontannie! Your daddy is finally up. Do you think it was the food calling him?” You say in a typically high-pitched voice, the one you always used around cute animals.

You go back to the kitchen’s counter, gathering the things necessary to set the table for you both to have breakfast, smiling sweetly at Taehyung before focusing on your task. You didn’t find his silence unusual, sometimes he stayed silent for long moments in the mornings, just taking his time to get fully awake and ready for the day. This time, however, it was for a completely different reason.

You had no idea what you had just ignited in Taehyung. Never before had you referred to him as the ‘Daddy’ of his small dog, and now he had vivid images of young little versions of himself and you running around the house, playing with Yeontan, falling asleep in his arms or cuddled up in yours. Oh, the idea of your stomach rounding and protruding with his children added an uncomfortable stiffness inside his boxers that was beginning to cloud his judgement.

Two arms wrap around your already pillowy middle, long fingers brushing your hair to one side, exposing the back of your neck for hungry lips to attach to the skin there, sending goosebumps down your spine and making your body tense and shudder slightly.

“Sorry I didn’t stay in bed so we could cuddle, babe. I got hungry and didn’t want to wake you up, so I just got up” you explained, thinking Taehyung was just craving your usual morning embraces.

“That’s okay” his even deeper than usual, very coarse from the morning, voice murmurs against your left ear, under which he stamps another kiss.

Large hands start wandering around your body, one sliding up and down the almost naked curve of your hip, the other moving up until it was trapped on the underside of your soft boob, thumb tracing an invisible line at the side over the tank top. Your breathing becomes shallow now, heart flipping inside your chest and muscles paralyzing as you began to wonder if this was more than what you assumed.

“Babe?”

“Love you” that toe-curling masculine tone of his interrupts, mouth kissing down your shoulders now. If you had any doubts, the hand that moved to squeeze your breast and the semi-hard bulge that he was pressing against your ass, fingers clawing at your love handles to keep you in place, made it abundantly clear where this was going. And the fire under your skin that his administrations were gaslighting made you have nothing against it.  

“Me too” you reciprocate in a sigh, giving in to him as you allow your body to fall back into his, one hand covering up the one he still had holding your chest and the other coming up to pull at the hairs behind his neck, moving your head to the side and pulling him in for a kiss.

He takes no reservations deepening the kiss, devouring your willing lips until his mischievous warm tongue of his found its way past your teeth, delving deeper and tasting you to the fullest he wanted to, a highway of sprinting electricity running up your spine and hazing your brain as he swirled around and coaxed your own to respond.

Taking hold of your wide waist, Taehyung turns you around and resumes the heavy smooches, pulling your fluffy body close to his lean one, greedy hands unable to chose a place to settle in, constantly running up and down the expanse of your body he could reach. As the tip of his tongue flicks against yours and roams the sensitive inside of your gums, your body shudders and you moan, the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming insufferable.

“Taehyung...” You whisper into his mouth, pulling at his hair and grasping his form close, hinting at your needs by the sway of your hips.

“My dear Y/N…” he mumbles back, eyes still closed before he cradles the side of your head and captures your lips once again. But this time, his wandering hand pulls down the side of the panties that were biting at your flesh and delicious fingers find their way to the shameless damage he had done.

A deep groan escapes him at the same time a soulful moan leaves you when his middle finger goes past your damp folds and slides directly against your sensitive slit. Taehyung keeps his mouth occupied on your skin, leaving your lips vacant so he can hear the beautiful sounds you made. Pulling the collar of your tank top down with his available hand, he finds your breasts covered by a simple bra that he too pulls the cups of it down, exposing your tits for him to play and tease as his other hand rubs between your legs, your own hips starting to move against his digits on their own accord.

When those expert fingers find the little hardening bud at the top of your lower lips, the fingertips press hard circles around it before flicking it mercilessly, enticing your raspy wail and the buckle of your knees, making you almost fall down as you lose your strengths for a moment at the sudden abuse.

“Counter” is all he says when he catches you, pulling you by the waist up.

You just nod and take a few steps until you reach the kitchen’s counter. Taehyung kneels down and you are confused for a moment before he pulls your panties all the way off your bulky legs, starting to kiss up your thighs, hands indulging on the malleable flesh of the back of your legs and moving up to your juicy rump.

“God, Tae!...” you stutter out, letting your head fall back and hands grasping the corner of the counter with iron strength as soon as he lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder and dives in.

The use of both his tongue and fingers leave you absolutely disoriented and unsure of how avoid losing your stand again. He had his eyes closed as he laps on your pussy, lips settling around your clit and ravishing upon it, taste buds flicking the fleshy pearl and then sucking on it for long enough to drive you mad and not enough to send you over the edge. The introduction of his fingers changed that. He first slid the middle finger that had been teasing your entrance, wiggling and curling it inside before withdrawing it unkindly. Then he inserts three at once and you cry out, not from pain but from the absolute pleasure the fullness gave you. His digits drown in your fluids and start rocking back and forth, curling and massaging your inner walls every other time.

It doesn’t take long at all for this overload of stimulations having you pulsating around Taehyung’s fingers, body spasming as an orgasm rips through you suddenly, hoarse cries filling the air. The fact that you had one leg around Tae’s shoulder keeps you from giving out completely, doing your best to pull yourself up as you gripped the counter.

“So beautiful… My magnificent Y/N…” he praises as he brushes your leg off his shoulder and slowly raises back up, all the way kissing your available skin.

Taehyung pauses at your belly, hands pulling the tank top up so he can kiss the soft skin there and knead at the flesh for a moment.

“This round stomach would look so pretty fuller…” he whispers, although now in a more perceptible voice. You raise your eyebrows at that, unsure of what he meant by that.

Further up, he kisses the valley between your tits as his thumbs play with your puckered nipples, only to then lick and suck on both of them in turns, making you arch your back to him.

“These breasts… how much bigger would they get?” It’s a murmur against the sensitive skin of your left tit but you still heard it and the realization sends magnetizing shockwaves to your core.

Your hands claw at the underside of his arms as you try to pull him up, intending to talk about what he meant by all of this, but the look on his face shut you up before you could even formulate the first question in your mind. Eyes hooded and dark with desire, it was both an animalistic gaze as much as it was absolutely vulnerable.

“My cherub Y/N, bearing my seed inside for everyone to see how stunning you are.”

His words are held an inch away from your silenced lips, staring at your confused eyes with purpose, before merging mouths together with a bruising force, ferociously kissing you senseless. The truth is that Taehyung already envisioned you both together until the end of his days, growing up together, getting older together. The proof laid hidden at the bottom of one of his drawers, in a small velvet red box, waiting for the perfect timing.

“Y/N… I want… I need…” he struggles to say, biting at the sides of your neck when the words didn’t come out.

But you already knew perfectly well what he wanted. And you were a bit ashamed of how arousing the idea sounded to you, to partake in what could ultimately tie you and Taehyung together for a lifetime, to have him want to - with you. It was something that had come to you in dreams before, something you never voiced with fear of ruining it. But not now.

Hand brushing down his chest and strong abdominal area, your fingers insert themselves past the hem of his boxers and you take him fully in your hands. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how hard he already was, hot and heavy, how the tip was already staining the palm of your hand with pre-leakage. Your walls throbbed with longing.

“Do it” you determinately whispered back.

The eyes that had closed when you took him in hand shot right open again, finding yours with a cautionary hesitance.

“Are you sure?” He seriously asks, eyes searching yours.

In response, you start stroking his mouthwatering length, hand curled powerfully around his thickness but careful to not scrape the skin, thumb brushing the sensitive red tip every time it reached it. Taehyung almost chokes and his whole-body tenses up as he tries to not give in to the need to thrust his hips into your inviting hand.

“Fuck” he curses, something you tend to only hear from him in such moments.

Suddenly, he takes a strong hold of your hips and spins you around, pinning your front to the cold marble of the counter as he raises your hips up towards him, everything on full display for him. A moment for him to send his boxers to the other side of the room and he teases your hot center with his hard member, rubbing his cock between your folds and coating himself with your overflowing juices. You whimper before biting down on your lips, hands in fists so tight your knuckles turned the palest colour you had ever seen.

“Taehyung…!” you sigh on frustration, looking over your shoulder back at him.

“Want me to fill you up?” he smugly asks, even with the undertone of wistful thinking from himself too. “Flood this pretty pussy with my seed?”

A ravenous spasm goes through your body. He keeps rubbing his dick against your silky middle, the tip brushing against the engorged clitoris with maddening slow strokes.

“Y-Yes. Give me all you got. Put a baby in me, Tae” you talk back.

A growl from the depths of his throat comes up and he bends down to kiss at your shoulder blade before biting into it, surely leaving a purple bruise but you didn’t care. Your body was boiling with need and your senses overwhelmed with him, all of him, only him. You were sure he could even draw blood from your skin and you wouldn’t even feel it.

In an instant so quick that caught you by surprise, Tae stands back up and pulls his hips back from you only to subsequently impale you with his length in a swift thrust. You arch your back, raising your chest off the counter, moaning loud at the sudden but more than welcome intrusion. You never realized how much of a barrier the condom created until now, feeling him bare inside, every inch of his skin, every indentation, every vein pulsating hot against your overly sensitive walls. Taehyung was having similar thoughts, in disbelief of how good you felt around him, how wet and slick you were, how enhanced the pleasure was. He had no idea how he would ever go back.

“Shit, Y/N…! You’re so… fucking… wet.” He stressed the last words with slow but strong thrusts of his hips, the sound of skin slapping skin and the squelching of your bodies together joining your own embarrassing uncoherent pleas.

Taehyung was a big man, which was the reason he preferred to always start with warming you up with his fingers whenever sex was in the cards, usually using more than two fingers to do the job. And still there was always that stretch burn when it was time for the real thing, but always tolerable and more often than not actually welcomed. Any slight hint of pain was more than thumped over by the pleasure of him filling you up, especially when he bottomed out and the tip of his dick reached and perfectly matched the curve of your cervix.

This position in particular was perfect for that effect and he knew it was the quickest way to push you to the edge in record time. When you arched your back, Taehyung reached with his hands around your middle and squeezed your hanging tits, still spilling out of the cups of the bra he had pulled down. Tweaking and pinching your nipples, the lean hips of the man behind you set on a nice rhythm, sliding back until only the tip remained inside before pistoning back in with measured force, making your eyes roll back in your head since the action made him constantly brush the perfect spot at the depth of your tunnel.

“I want you filled with my cum to the bream. I want it to overflow from this tight pussy and see it spill on the ground. And then do it again without wasting a single drop” he said in labored breathes, fingers digging in to your protruding love handles tighter, hips rocking quicker against yours. “Wanna see your stomach swell up with our babies. Play with these tits when they get heavier with milk. Eat you out when you’re pregnant just to know if it’ll taste different.”

You squeal as the dirty talk contributes to your ever-approaching end, this unbearable tight knot in your womb constricting the muscles of your body so severely you feel a vein might pop off. You are sweating profusely, the warm weather not helping for such endeavors, eyesight getting blurred, breathing strenuous and brain shutting down.

“You are taking my cock so well, love” he claims, taking his eyes off your form to witness the way his dick disappears inside you, over and over again, glistening with your juices. Your insides squeeze him at that, making him hiss and close his eyes again. “You like that? You like knowing how good you take care of my bare cock? Do you wanna milk me dry? Want to suck my cum with your pussy, hum?”

“Ta-Taehyung!” you scream out as the first waves of orgasm crash over you, knot unfolding abruptly and a molten pleasure erupts throughout your system, scourging every inch of you, forcing you cry out in delight.

The boy slows down to an almost stop, both to prolong your pleasure but also to restrain himself from following you just yet, when he had other plans. As soon as you come back down from your high, his hips start moving again as he pulls your back flush against his chest, lips attaching to the skin up and down your neck. You are holding yourself up with the palm of your hands pressed against the cooler counter, whimpering once he starts picking up the pace, last orgasm still very much fresh. And yet you can’t help the way your hips move back to meet his, the chase of a new climax claiming your body fast, your head tilting back to rest on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“That’s it, my love. Do it once more for me, yeah?” he whispers almost sweetly into your ear, one hand still fondling your exposed breasts and the other going down to your lush belly, skin sinking to his touch as he rubbed circles there. “Let me knock you up and show off my pregnant wife for everyone to see! We’ll make the most beautiful children.” You never doubted that. With him as their father, how could they turn out anything but perfect.

The hand at your chest drops to dig the bulges of your waist, Taehyung pouncing harder now. You are already more than half-way there and the fact that you can feel the spillage from the tip of his cock when he fastens up, a tell-tale of his own approaching undoing, leaves you at the edge of the precipice.

“Fu… Cum with me, Y/N…! Let’s… let’s cum together” he pleas in your ear.

His digits dart away from your stomach to make way to your mound, where he quickly finds your cluster of nerves and presses harshly and violently against it, at the same time his thrusts hit the spot deep that he reaches so well with debauched speed. The fierce assault of your senses has you mewling in a pitchy voice as the climax spills, so intense and sharp that white noise blacks out your vision and disorienting pleasure claims your turned-to-mush brain.

Taehyung feels with relief your inner walls collapsing on him and he finally allows himself to reach his own end, drilling into you a few more times until he is buried as deep as he can go, spilling his essence into your womb, balls tightening and tingling as warm spurts filled you up, his perspiring body shuddering before stiffening with blissed out relief.

You fall on your elbows forward, barely able to hold yourself on the counter. It takes both of you a good few moments to collect yourselves. When Taehyung pulls out of you, the feeling of fluid stickiness starts to run down your legs and you hear the boy tsk.

“What a waste” he says.

You turn around at that, rearranging your almost nude state and about to question him about something when he pulls you by the waist across the room.

“Wait, Tae, what are you doing?” you wonder, looking confused up at his now fully awake face.

“Taking you to the bedroom. You should have been laid down for this” he explains, seemingly a bit angry with himself as he frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“The probability of pregnancy is best when the female is laying horizontally. That was not the best position to get you pregnant.”

You halt your step and take him by the hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Hey, Tae, that’s okay. If this didn’t work, we’ll just do it better next time, okay?”

He does seem to perk up at that, eyes enlarging and lighting up like a kid only to revert back to a smug knowing look, accompanied with a cocky grin.  

“So… Already thinking of doing this again, are we?” His arms sneak around your waist and he rocks you both in place, leaning down to level his eyes with you.

“As if you weren’t thinking about it as soon as you pulled out” you rebut, to which he just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “You… You are really serious about this, Taehyung? About me? Us?” You can’t help but make sure this whole thing wasn’t just a spur of the moment, a very dangerous erotic fantasy that would disappoint him if ever actually coming true in reality.

Taehyung kissed your cheek and pulls you in for one of the tightest hugs you ever got. You smile against his shoulder and hug him back, hands meeting at his back.

“I was never so sure of anything in my life as much as I’m sure of this” he guaranteed.

Later, after a much-needed shower, both fully dressed for the day, siting at the table eating the now cold pancakes for what was now more of a lunch than breakfast, something occurred to you and you tilted your head to the side as you chewed.

“Taehyung?” you call, the man in question not even raising his eyes to you as he devoured the plate in front of him.

“Humm?”

“This morning… did you call me ‘wife’ during sex?”

Taehyung choked until his cheeks turned bright red and it took him several minutes and countless glasses of milk to regain his normal breathing. Maybe there was no such thing as a perfect timing when it came to these things, he realized as he went to get the red box hidden in his drawer.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[alvfr]

Monthly

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x F!Dom!Reader

Prompt: D for Dominate + # for period sex, requested by Anon

Rating: Explicit. 18+, minors DNI

Words: 2.1K

Includes: Soft!Dom. Period/menstrual sex = mention of blood. Fingering. Oral sex. Some overstim.

A/N: Shortest thing I've written. This is very soft domination, and I'm not an expert in this field at all. No degradation. If you're squeamish, this fic includes mention of period blood! Cross-posted to AO3, link in my masterlist.

Monthly

“Legs spread, Emily.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I said spread, Emily.”

A brief pause before she heeded your request and placed the soles of her feet on the towel covering the mattress. While you waited and watched, she dragged her heels back so they pushed against the plump muscle of her ass. It took visible effort before she relaxed her legs and had them drop open to either side.

“There’s a good girl.”

Her thick eyelashes, black as her hair, fluttered against her cheeks in relief. Already pulling deep breaths through her parted lips, even though you hadn’t come close to touching her. The muscles of her throat worked as she swallowed before managing to whisper: “Thank you, Miss.”

She was a sight, that’s for sure. Long stretches of pale skin and tight curves where she laid on the bed. Head resting on a pillow with her shiny black hair splayed like a dark halo around her face. Naked and slightly flushed, with only the deep pink of her nipples breaking the flow until the neat triangle of curls started between her legs. It led down to something more colorful — blood swelling into her vulva, making it plump and matching the deep color of her nipples. With her legs spread like this, she was opening herself up to the room — up to you — and you licked your lips as if you could already taste her on your tongue. Her hands down by her side where she kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Poor thing still so riled up from work, tense and nervous even now.

Letting her simmer in anticipation, you studied her face too. Eyes closed, mouth open, the faint remains of the lipstick she’d worn to the office still on her lips. The sharp angle of her nose pushed up, giving her side-profile a downright regal and haughty expression — your absolute favorite thing about her. A physical reminder of her character. Along with the strong cheekbones, the slope of her jawline, and a mouth used to order and command.

And here she was, already panting with need and fully at your mercy.

“Have you been a good girl today, Emily?” you asked and watched with delight how her eyes squeezed shut. Finally moving, you got up from the chair next to the bed and wandered around it, drifting your fingertips over her collarbone with feather-light pressure. “Hm?”

The admission came like a plea. “No, Miss.” A brief pause, not from hesitation, but because her mouth looked too dry to speak. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

You let it slide for now and trailed your hand down to her breasts. Her chest bucked under your touch, showcasing different muscles and curves of bones under her soft skin. “Why not?”

Dark eyebrows pulled down even while her eyes remained closed. You loved her deep voice, especially now when it bounced up and down in pitch while she stuttered. “I — uh — I didn’t think- I didn’t know-”

Her messy speech sent thrills up and down your spine. Emily Prentiss reduced to a blubbering mess over something as silly as this. A tremble passed through her body when you carefully swept your fingers over her hard nipples. She wasn’t one for sounds — not in the beginning anyway — so you had to watch her breathing or rely on her for using safe words if necessary.

“You didn’t know what,” you plucked one of her nipples with two fingers and applied a light pressure, “Emily?”

Back arching off the mattress, she swallowed thickly again. “That this- that you- that-”

God, she was beautiful. You took pity on her, but pinched tighter around her nipple in return. “That your pussy belongs to me?”

“Yes, Miss,” she whimpered and dropped down to the mattress when you let go of the stiff little bud, now redder than before. She let out a throaty: “I’m sorry, Miss.”

“That you’re mine?” You tweaked her other nipple, watching her brows furrow again, looking for any signs of real pain in case she was tender. “Every day of the month?”

“I’m sorry,” she moaned, shoulders slumping back down on the pillow, eyes still closed. She groaned when you flicked her nipple, squirming her hips on the towel. “Miss. I’m sorry, Miss.”

“Good girl.”

The praise pulled her lips into a tender smile and you ignored the way your heartbeat fluttered in your chest.

This had started when she came home from work, sulky and snappish and high-strung from stress. Usually the way to make her relax was bending her over your knee, spanking her until she begged for more, and then fingering her until she begged you to stop. It took her mind off things, to say the least, and when she slumped into your embrace afterward, where you petted her soft locks and whispered praise straight into her ear, she would finally let loose of the tension in her shoulders. If she could, she’d share what bothered her — usually the abridged version — and if she couldn’t, you’d distract her with the less gruesome matters of your everyday life.

Today though, she had scorned your advances. Not because she didn’t want it — she had said so herself, but it was so obvious from how she acted too — but because she thought you wouldn’t want it. Want her. Not... now.

Turns out, some of that bad attitude came from good old-fashioned PMS. You had laughed then, finding the thought of the tough FBI agent being squeamish about a little blood hilarious. Looping your arms around her, you had kissed her neck and offered to take care of her. Run her a bath, rub some lotion into her skin, massage her back and pussy alike because nothing helped more against cramps than an orgasm.

And she’d averted her gaze and muttered something about being gross. That she was bloated and bleeding and disgusting and that’s when you had grabbed her face, pinching your fingers on her chin, and ordered her to wash herself and get on the bed within five minutes. She knew you didn’t tolerate her badmouthing herself in any way. But if she wanted to act like a brat, you could treat her like one.

You could almost see the relief in her eyes then. See how much she needed to lose control — needed you to take care of her. Screw the bubble baths, she just needed someone to tell her what to do.

So now you had her spreading her legs wide on the bed, fully naked and panting. Waiting. Not begging for anything yet, but definitely eager because where you could see the faint red line dripping out from her spread lips. It mixed with her clear essence, painting her in a pretty pink.

You started slow. Moving from her nipples and down to her spread legs. Trailing your fingers in her wetness, praising her for being so good. For letting you take care of her for once. For spreading her legs so wide for you. For getting so wet for you already. Pretty, pretty girl.

The bedroom dissolved into nothing but your voice, her breaths, and the wet sloppy sounds from where your fingers pushed into her. You kneeled in front of the bed, watching everything up close, smelling her sweet juices and the slightly metallic blood. She writhed against your hand, the inner muscle near her thigh trembling when you found that cushy spot in the front, and her pussy fluttered around the intrusion. Two fingers — three fingers — they turned reddish pink with her juices and she was so open for you. So wet and hot and pretty.

“Oh god,” she groaned, and now her hands tugged at the towel under her hips. You kept pumping your fingers into her, deliberately not even breathing close to her clit, and saw her clench, squeezing around your fingers. “Please, Miss.”

“Is this good?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“My fingers in your pussy, is that good?”

Her voice cracked. “Yes, Miss.”

“Isn’t this my pussy?”

“Fuck, yes, Miss. I’m sorry.”

“Say it.”

“It’s your pussy, Miss,” Emily babbled, the muscles on her thighs flexing hard every time you rubbed her G-spot inside of her. “All the time. Always. All of me. Yours. Fuck. God. Please, Miss, pleas-”

“Are you going to be a good girl?” you asked, enraptured with how her knees trembled. Your fingers moved faster, aided by the extra lubrication, and you loved the soppy sounds they made. “Let me take care of you every day of the month? Hm? Let me use your pussy anyway I feel like? Only good girls get to come, you know. Are you going to be good?”

“Yes, yes, please, Miss, God-”

“Want me to rub your little clit for you?”

“Oh god,” her voice snapped into the room, “yes, please, yes.”

You blew some air on the top of her wet slit, and could see her clit throbbing. Still not touching it. She deserved some punishment from before. “Are you going to be good?”

“Yesss-”

“Going to come around my fingers?”

“Yes, yes, Miss, yes-”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Can I- can I please-” She hissed, lifting slightly off the towel, before forcing herself back down. “I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close. Can I please come, Miss? Can I-”

That was fast.

Silly woman. You had been right that she got extra horny on her period. Mentally counting backward, you realized she had happened to be out of town during her last cycles, but not always. Now the flimsy excuses before you moved in together made sense. So fucking stupid. Like you cared about some blood?

“Not yet.”

The sound from her throat was downright filthy and worth the strain in your wrist. “Please.”

You moved faster, spreading your fingers inside of her — all three of them and saw her hole stretch to accommodate it — before you twisted and nudged against that soft spot over and over again. Emily writhed on the bed, sounds coming from her chest that you’d never heard before, and you saw that little shiny button on the top of her pussy pulse steadily.

“Please,” she begged again, her hands splayed against the sheets and clutching so her knuckles turned white. “Please, Miss, please-”

Mouth watering, you leaned forward and fastened your lips over her clit and sucked. Hard. Emily screamed somewhere up above and gushed around your fingers and mouth. Her walls spasmed around your knuckles while you kept on sucking, tasting faintly metallic, but mostly sweet and her legs clamped around your head, muting everything but the taste of her pussy.

By the time you released her aching bundle of nerves with an audible pop, her chest rose and fell several inches. A stain spread on the towel and when you wiped your face against the inside of her thigh, you left a pink streak behind.

“Good girl,” you whispered and pulled your fingers back to see her gaping hole and a wanton moan let loose from her lips. “Such a good girl.” You reached up to massage her stomach, the taut muscles still bunched up from her climax. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Her mouth hung open, but you saw her nod. The kohl black lashes flutter open a bit, giving you a soft smile from where she laid on the bed. The smile widened. “You look like a vampire.”

Grinning back, you nipped the inside of her thigh. “Okay, now spread your legs again.”

“What-”

“Oh, you thought we were done?” You swallowed her flavors and reached for the vibrator next to the bed. “No, we’re just getting started. Bad girls get punished, remember? Are you going to make me repeat myself? Leg-”

She hurried back into position before you finished talking, her wet lips opening with a soft smack right in front of your face. The hum of the vibrator filled the room and an excited thrill filled your stomach at seeing her pussy flutter around nothing. At the second-lowest setting, you pushed the smooth edge of the vibrator right next to her clit.

More wetness gushed out of her opening and you smiled at the sight. Pretty, pretty girl.

“Now hold this.”

“I-” Emily made a strained sound and you gave her a second to remember her place. “Yes, Miss.” She took over to hold the vibrator, careful not to move it a millimeter in either direction. “Fuck.”

“Don’t move.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“There’s a good girl.” You reached for the second toy next to the bed, one that would fill that hole already clenching around nothing. “I’m going to make you come so many times you forget your name, baby. Now spread your legs.”

She sounded more relieved than anything now. “Yes, Miss.”

----

A/N: Haven't seen many fics written from the Dom's perspective, so let me know how it worked. Half a mind to write a similar one from Emily's POV if it's of interest, maybe without the period thing.

Feedback appreciated in general - feel free to send me a message on anon if you’re shy. Remember to reblog if you like it ❤

[deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth]

I'm Gonna Crawl

Chapter 24

After we left the restaurant he took me back to the hotel, no blindfold this time. When we got into the suite, he sat me on the bed and handed me an envelope. “Open it.” He smiled widely, his cherub cheeks slightly pinker than normal, the color striking against his alabaster skin.

I lifted the flap and pulled out a piece of photo paper. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” He grinned, baring teeth. “It is now my most treasured possession.”

“You just took these photos last night…” I was baffled by how quick he had them developed.

“I had them developed today, before Bonzo decided to trap me at the dealership.” He made a face at the memory.

I looked down at the photograph in my hands, debating mentally whether or not it was actually me posing for the camera. It looked like me but somehow a different me. Perhaps it was the fact that I never liked my photograph taken, therefore it rarely happened or perhaps it was the fact that I felt anxious yet happy when the photo was taken, forced, yes, but I was happy to make him exuberant by obliging his request.

“Do you like it?” When I looked up from the photo of me half naked on the couch, his face was that of a six-year-old who wrapped a rock in Christmas paper for his mother, anxiously awaiting her reaction upon opening it.

I nodded my head, gazing back down at the photo. I felt as though I were on a completely different planet, confused by the fact that I felt so far from my own body, as though I were in some stranger’s or in a pod person type situation. I mentally laughed at the absurdity of my recent paranoia. Obviously, I wasn’t in some live version of Invaders of the Body Snatchers.

“These ones are yours.” Jimmy derailed my intensely insane train of thought. “I have another copy of them on their way to my home in Scotland.”

“Scotland? I thought you lived in England.” I put the photos on the end table and walked toward him.

“I have a home in London, but I think I will go back to Boleskine.” He dragged a hand through my hair and held the back of my head in his palm. “With you.” His smile was breathtaking.

“What about my job, Jimmy?” All of my obligations were starting to weigh on me. “My apartment?”

He pursed his lips and gestured for me to sit down on the edge of the bed. He sat beside me and held my hand. “Like I said, I want you to think about it, love. But as for answers to your very reasonable inquiries, I do have some solutions.”

“I’m not quitting my job.” I blurted out, knowing that was the solution he would come up with.

“Of course not, darling.” He gave me a sour face as though what I was thinking was audacious. “With touring, my home life back in Europe is short-lived. Although, I’ve a feeling we all may be taking a larger break than normal…” He was stuck somewhere in his head, thinking and calculating.

“Your point, Jimmy?”

He looked up at me as though I had woken him from a dream. “Right, sorry.” He gave a small smile. “You can come home with me, see all of Europe, we can do whatever you want, all day, every day, then when it’s time for us to tour you can go back to Boston and work for the remainder of the time, then of course come back home with me.” He smiled condescendingly.

“Jimmy, I don’t think my boss is going to go for that.”

“He may if I have a word with him.” The way his accent curled around the word ‘word’ almost knocked me over. I was suddenly amazed by how over the early days of this adventure, I didn’t completely cream myself over his accent alone.

Back to reality, I shook my head at him. “I doubt–”

“Think about it.” He looked at me eagerly. “I’ll pay for your apartment while you’re with me so it’s there when you need it. Please, just think about it.”

I nodded.

“Now for tonight, we think of only tonight. No future, no past, just now.” He stood up from the bed and padded toward the radio and flicked it on. He grabbed my hands and pulled off of the bed and into his arms. He held me as though we were going to waltz and swayed around the hotel room to Dancing in the Moonlight.

When the song was quieting to an end, he looked at me, stopped moving his feet and held my face in his hands. “Do you love me?” There was a vulnerable glint in his eyes.

I was once again stunned by how forward his question was. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out, shockingly to his amusement.

“You’re afraid.” He smiled but disappeared as fast as it had come. “Why are you afraid?”

I took a deep breath and wondered why I was so frightened at the thought of voicing my feelings. “Can I be completely blunt?”

He smiled again. “Of course.”

“Well, I will start by stating the obvious.” he nodded and gestured for me to continue. “You are a ‘rock star’, a very famous one at that…” His eyebrows furrowed quizzically. “You are a notorious whore, James.

The moment you grow even remotely bored of me, you’re going to find some other poor girl to fall in love with then I will be left heartbroken, wondering what’s wrong with me, all the while there is nothing wrong with me, I just fell for someone unattainable.” He opened his mouth to speak so I pulled a Jimmy and held up my hand to quiet him while I continued. “I am not afraid of heartbreak, it is a part of life and in its darkness grows spectacular beginnings, like this. But that’s all this is, a beginning. There is no middle, no end. It’s a dalliance, our dalliance.” I paused and gazed into his wide, soulful eyes. “If I admit my feelings, it will only be harder to walk away.”

He deliberated, taking everything in slowly. I could see the gears shifting behind his eyes, that calculating look he got when being mischievous, then it all clattered and I could see the shattered pieces all over his face and in his posture. A look only a man mercilessly beaten of all dreams has. “You’re not coming home with me.” He seemed to be mostly speaking to himself.

I held my fingers under his chin and lifted his chin to look at me. “No past, no future.” His eyes burned into mine as I spoke. “Just now.”

“Just now.” He repeated, trying to force a smile which quickly disappeared the moment I let go of his face. He cleared his throat and looked at the time. “We should probably get to bed.” He stood up and stalked toward the bathroom.

“Jimmy, it’s not even 10:00 pm.”

“It’s been a long day.” He murmured without turning around and continued into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

My heart sank heavily in my stomach. I could feel it poisoning me, making its way through every vein in my body, weighing me down and making me sick. “Fuck.” I muttered under my breath. I heard the water from the shower head hit the basin of the tub furiously and stood there debating my next move. Go to bed and hope he’s fine by the morning or give him at least one of the things he wants. I stared up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns with my eyes, my fists clenched so hard I could feel my nails tearing into my palms. “Goddammit.” I padded to the bathroom door and opened it quietly.

The shower curtain was drawn, covering the entirety of the tub. I could hear Jimmy softly humming the same tune he had been for the past few days. I took a deep breath and walked toward him, opened the curtain, held my dress up and stepped in.

He looked at me curiously at first then his expression became somber as he turned around to run his face under the water. “You’re going to get your dress wet.” He mumbled through the stream.

“I don’t care.” I placed my hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. My touch sent a shiver down his spine. When he turned back around to face me, I wasted no time. I clutched onto the side of his face with one hand, the other on his chest and pulled his face to mine. I kissed him hungrily, waiting for him to kiss me back with as much fervor.

He pulled away slightly and gazed down at me, his expression still somber. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly bit down on his lower lip and closed his eyes.

I rubbed his cheek with my thumb, my fingers tangled in his wet hair. I could feel the water from the shower head running down my arm, uncomfortably making the right side of my dress wet. “Jimmy.” He wouldn’t open his eyes, he just bit down harder on his lip and I wondered if this beautiful, naked, wet guitar god I held in my palm was crying. I took a deep breath. “Please look at me.” He lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes. Small teardrops fell from them, his emeralds glistening and the whites of his eyes slightly bloodshot. He gazed at me, his teeth still biting into his lip as though he were trying to keep the tears from pooling in his eyes. I held my other hand to his other cheek and pressed my lips to his firmly. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the words swelling to the brim of my throat, scratching their way out. “I love you, James.” I whispered, the beating of the water in the basin much louder than my voice.

His eyes widened and his teeth retracted from his lower lip. “You love me?” His voice slightly cracked.

I nodded my head, my eyes glued to his. I knew I would regret saying it, only because both of us parting and going separate ways was inevitable, but I meant it. This foolishly brazen and stubborn man, though completely obnoxious in his courtship, had made me irrationally fall for him in a way I can honestly say no man ever had.

“Don’t say it to make me feel better.” He eyed me cautiously. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to make you feel as though you need to say it because I - as you so lovingly put it - throw a fit.”

I shook my head, finding it hard to hide my smile. I was elated in his presence. Something I didn’t think was possible only days ago. “It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, Mr. Page.” I looked at him seriously. “A very dangerous game. But I can’t deny how I feel and I can’t lie to you.” His eyes were starting to well. “I do love you, you absolute crazy, frustrating fool.”

He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me hungrily. Deeper into the kiss his hand inched down my torso and rested on my waist where he clutched onto my dress and spun us around so I was directly under the incredible water pressure of the shower head. I could feel my makeup running down my face as the water engulfed me, his lips morphing to mine. Towering over me, my head tilted back, he kissed me deeper than he had ever before and for a moment I thought we might be stuck like this and if we were to be, I would thoroughly enjoy it forever.

When he pulled away, breathless and shivering he looked at me and grinned. “You still manage to look incredible, soaking wet.”

I smiled back. My eyes were drawn downward, his cock fully erect. I bit into my lower lip to keep myself stable but the thoughts running through my head were that of a very bad girl.

When I looked back up at his face his eyebrow was lifted, his signature cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Am I just a piece of meat to you?” He teased.

I satirized him back with a shrug to which he nudged my arm. “I do enjoy your meat.”

He made a face at my retort and laughed. “You are truly something else.” He looked down at me, my dress clinging to every curve of my body. “How are we going to get this off of you?” He gave my body the same look I gave his.

“Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

He looked up, light in his eyes and shook his head ‘no’. “You are a delicious piece of custard pie.”

“Custard pie?” I poked fun.

His teeth were deep in his lower lip as he nodded, a very distinct fog of lust hanging in the air, thick and palpable. “I want you.”

“Well, I knew that the moment I met you.”

“Cocky, are we?” He raised his eyebrows.

“You didn’t hide it well.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Are you going to have me?”

He nodded his head, his eyes darker than normal.

I grinned mischievously. I moved my hands to the zipper on the back of my dress and slowly unzipped it then untied the straps around my neck. He watched impatiently, his teeth dragging across his lower lip. I leisurely pulled the dress over my breasts, down my torso, hips, until it fell to the bottom of the tub with a loud wet thud. I stretched my arms over my head, feigning a yawn. “I’m tired, I think I’ll go to bed.” I opened the curtain and as I stepped out of the tub he reached for my wrist.

I turned to him and watched as he shook his head back and forth. “No, you’re not.” He pressed his palms to my cheeks and kissed me again. I pulled away as his tongue tried to reenter my mouth.

“Mr. Page, you are being very inappropriate.” I teased.

He shook his head at me, grinning as he did so. “Are we playing a game?” He was excited by the prospect.

“I have no time for you and your games.” I feigned disinterest.

He let go of my wrist, his grin Cheshire-like as he watched me walk out of the bathroom, water trailing behind me. I took a robe from the back of the door and covered myself, listening as he turned off the water and dried himself off.

@tangerine-page @within60s @jimjcm @rocknrollsoul76 @zeptrashahoy @taurusgrl444 @melancholi-e @floatinginthedunes @tessthemess45 @itachiuyeehaw @royalblueviper @fleetwoodgroove @rick-sauvage @magicaldestinytrash @kashmir-baby @70sdeakster @ritacaroline @evhelynn @liviacarol88-blog @electra-phoebe @zralokxwell @deafshepherd @rogertaylorseyelashes @jimmypage7 @discobeezy @mictic @idekatthispoint03 @pleasantcreatorbanditvoid @jimmypages @lady-jane-revisited @missdaisypage @salixfragilis

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part four

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (still a slow burn but it’s getting closer)

warnings: some violence but not really, men being creepy, language (one f bomb), also badly written speaking while crying, aaand i think that’s it

word count: a little over 2300

a/n: aaaah it’s part four babes!!!! the response to this has been so positive i’m in love with y’all!!! <3 <3 <3 i’m still way behind on my classwork and going through a terrible break up but we’re pushing through here

p.s.: my requests are still open if y’all want me to write yall something! aaalso, there’s a bucky short coming tomorrow ;)) <3

series m.list

ray’s m.list

********************************** 

This strange man’s hand was still caressing my hair as he smirked down at me. Running has hands up to the root and then yanking my head upwards to face him directly. “When I speak to you, you look me in the eye, little one.” Not one to show my fear, at least not to men like him, I scoffed. Thick brows shot towards his hairline and a twitch in his jaw as he clenched it. The hold he had in my hair gave him leverage over me. I winced as he lifted his arm to bring my face closer to his. A small whimper escaped the back of my throat, saliva gathering in my mouth. “Don’t test me, little one.” I sneered then spat in his face, the wet substance sticking to his face across his nose and cheek.

Bringing a hand up to his face to swipe the thick liquid from his skin, he glowered as he pulled his palm away. Then several things happened at once. The man forced a harsh breath out and then I was facing the ground with a sting on my left cheek. A gasp left my lips, he just slapped me. Who the hell does he think he is? I shook my head and then leveled my gaze with the man’s. I’m almost positive that my cheek is sporting a bright red handprint that does nothing for my complexion.

“What the hell man? What was that for?” I groaned while attempting to soothe my throbbing cheek on my shoulder. I mean, was it kind of justified? I did just spit in this man's face. No, he totally deserved that. After releasing his grip on my hair, he transferred his hands to the sides of the chair I was chained to. The metal scraping along the concrete floor caused a loud screech to reverberate through the small room.

“I said not to test me, bitch.” the man growled out as he pushed my chair onto the back two legs. I’m starting to think that this is a bit more serious than I originally thought. “Now, you’re going to sit here like a good little bitch and tell me what I want to know.” He retreated only to grab the chair that Suits used. Slamming against the pavement he straddled the chair with his forearms resting on the back.

“How many missions did you participate in?” I released a groan and rotated my head, leaning my head back.

“I already told your friend,” I tilted my head to speak directly to the absolute jerk-wad of a man in front of me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man quirked an eyebrow and clenched his jaw. He rolled his neck, causing the bones in it to crack and then stood. He walked to the other side of the metal table that sat in the middle of the room. The sound of a zipper caused me to snap my head to where he was standing. The tactical vest he was wearing dropped to the metal surface allowing for a loud thunk to flow through the room. He stretched out his shoulders and swung his arms out in front as if he was trying to increase the blood flow. I’m the one who’s literally tied to a freaking chair, what does he need blood flow for? My breathing quickened,  calm down, don’t show any fear. He popped the knuckles of his hands and approached me.

“I’m not a patient man.” He bent at the knees and leaned his face closer to mine. Exhaling into my face, he maintained eye contact with me. “And you’re not acting like the good little girl we both know you oh-so-desperately want to be.” I rolled my eyes at that, apparently that was the wrong thing to do in this man’s face. His left eye twitched as he stared at me.

“Do you think you could back up? Your breath reeks, man.” I have no concern for my own well-being do I? The man’s head tilted to the side and then he wolfed out a gruff laugh. He shifted his weight to land on the heels of his feet and threw his body into the laugh. It was a bit disconcerting to see this man laughing so wholeheartedly in a situation that didn’t feel funny to me. Another blow to the side of my face was issued, however this time he didn’t stop. Several open handed hits were delivered, all the while he was resetting my head back by grasping my chin. My breathing was becoming labored, my chest heaving up and down in a frenzy. He gripped my chin and jerked it upwards so he could stand at his full height to tower over me.

“How many missions did they send you on?” He demanded, increasing his hold on my face surely leaving sickening bruises that would match his fingers perfectly. At some point, tears began running down my red cheeks.

“I don’t kno-ow what you’re talking ab-about!” Tears streaming down my swollen face, “I s-swear to god, I don’t know wh-what you mean!” Choked sobs were preventing me from breathing correctly. The man grabbed my shoulders and shook my body.

“Calm the fuck down and speak clearly.” Small hiccups were escaping my mouth without permission. Why am I letting this guy get to me? What the hell is happening? “How many missions did they send you on?” I broke down again, fat tears leaking out of my eyes.

“I ju-just want to go h-h-home. I s-swear I don’t kno-ow anything!” I shouted in his face. He glowered at me and lifted his hand from my shoulder. My whole body tensed as I readied myself to the impact.

“Johnson.” The door burst open, stopping Johnson from landing another hit. “This is not what you were supposed to be doing.” Suits walked back in the room. Johnson backed down, lowering his hand and turning to the new member in the room. “Sir, I was told to interrogate the prisoner.”

“Yes, Johnson, interrogate her. Not beat her to a pulp.” He gestured wildly with his hand. “If the boss found out you were doing this, he’d have your head on a platter.” Suits took steps closer toward us and Johnson shrunk into himself. “Get out of here before I call him about this.” Johnson nodded quickly and left the room quickly, leaving his tactical vest on the table.

I was still quietly crying while strapped to the metal frame of the chair. Suits approached me while pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. He raised it to my face and I jolted backwards away from his touch. “Easy now, I’m only here to help.” Is he seriously pulling a good cop, bad cop routine on me right now? He wiped my cheeks of the salty remnants, “Now, how can I help you besides that?”

“You co-could let me go h-home.” I tried to say without stuttering, clearly unsuccessful. I didn’t want to show my emotions but really at this point, could it get worse?

“Awe, girly. You know I can’t do that until you tell me what I want to know.” He began to drag the chair next to me, back to the opposite side of the table. This created an obstacle between the two of us, which made me slightly more comfortable knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach me as quickly.

I heaved a sigh, “but I don’t know anything.” My weeping had come to a definite end, making way for frustration. My face heated for a different reason than being struck several times.

“See, this is where we disagree because I know that you’re lying to me.” He shook his finger in my face and I scrunched my brows together, flicking my eyes between his finger and face.

“You’re kidding me. I told you I don’t know about any missions.”

“Oh really? Then who’s Gemini?” He reclined in his chair, looking smug. “Actually, you know more importantly, who is Libra? The whole thing is just fascinating to me.”

“I don’t know what any of that is. I swear to whatever you want me to.”

“Then why do I have this that says you do.” He held up the manila folder that he first walked in with. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Whatever is in there is lying to you.” He cocked his head to the side and flipped the folder open. He removed a photograph from the folder and placed it on the table in front of me. Staring back at me, was a slightly younger version of myself with shorter hair. A large X was drawn across the whole picture and underneath it read the words ‘Agent Libra.’

My eyes widened, “I have never seen that before, in my life.” Suits sighed heavily and then began flipping through the rest of the papers.

“So what is the Svengali?” He threw out another paper and I glanced down at it. It looked like a typed report of some kind. Much of it redacted by thick black lines. The words Libra, Gemini, and Svengali were visible amidst the sea of dark ink.

*****************************

A ping sounded throughout the room causing the screen of the phone to illuminate. A metal hand reached for the thin device.

New mission alert. You’re needed. Meet at the compound.

Great, this is just what Bucky needed to keep him distracted. Sleep never came easy to him so he was spending copious amounts of time trying to catch up on what he missed out on. Steve told him to make a list and Sam kept rambling on about some gay Marvin man? Bucky much prefered to do things on his own. He hasn’t had help for over ninety years, why should he need it now?

Throwing on his leather jacket as he began to leave his apartment, he checked the pockets for the keys to his motorcycle. He also made sure to grab his gloves. Even though T’Challa and Shuri were good enough to give him a new vibranium arm, Bucky still wasn’t too keen on being stared at in public. It was better for everyone if he just kept the arm tucked away as much as he could while around strangers.

He did one last once over of his apartment before locking the door behind him. He jogged down the stairs towards his bike. It definitely was his pride and joy, it was the first thing that he bought with his own money since 1943. His apartment was courtesy of Pepper Potts, no thanks to Tony’s complaining. Tony and Bucky had eventually worked out their differences, to say the least. Tony still hadn’t fully forgiven the Winter Soldier for killing his parents, and neither had Bucky so they were agreeing to disagree.

The ride to the compound from Brooklyn wasn’t a hard one. It gave Bucky time to appreciate the scenery around him. Slowing to a stop at a four way stop just outside of the compound, Bucky dropped his feet to the tarmac below, stabilizing the bike between his legs. He tilted his head back and felt the warm rays of the sun on his face. Warm was something that Bucky was still getting used to, it was easier in Wakanda. He had his own hut, voluntary therapy sessions, and easy-going check ups with Shuri in her lab.

Everything was simpler in Wakanda, but what Bucky missed most from Wakanda was the stability. He didn’t have to worry about missions, or keeping up with Steve, or the crushing guilt that he felt whenever he saw Tony. After parking his bike at the facility, Bucky made his way to the meeting room. Dark wooden tables in an L-shape appeared in his view. Steve and Sam were standing in front of the large monitor that was displaying images of an unknown, yet familiar looking woman.

“Tony, we don’t know if she knows anything.” Natasha said, apparently trying to rationalize with someone else in the room.

“Natasha, we don’t know that she doesn’t not know anything.” Tony shot back, Sam turned slowly and opened his mouth with a confused expression on his face.

“Tony, we aren’t in an episode of FRIENDS. This is serious. We need to decide if this is worth pursuing or not.”

“Wilson, that’s all well and good but we have to acknowledge that this woman could get us our first real break in our search.” Tony explained while taking deep breaths.

“What are we deciding?” Bucky interrupted as he plopped into one of the chairs. Now that Bucky has been given his freedom back, he’s able to display a difference between his mission self and his regular self.

“This woman here,” Steve gestured to the woman on the screen, “is a member of the Virago. It’s an international branch of SHIELD that was believed to be infiltrated by HYRDA years ago.”

“This is the agent code named Libra. Her last mission was with another agent code named Gemini. The mission report has since been lost to us. All we know is that Libra and Gemini were instructed to watch a Svengali safehouse. Apparently something went wrong and only Libra made it out alive.” Tony added, “Which is why we need to find her and see what she knows.” “Tony! There’s no guarantee that she has any knowledge of this mission.” The redhead stressed as she leaned over the table towards the man she was speaking to.

“I think we should find her.” The words left Bucky’s mouth before he could stop them. All motion in the room stopped.

“Um, did the Manchurian Candidate just agree with me?” Tony questioned as the rest of the room remained quiet.

“Look, I’m not necessarily agreeing with you.” Bucky started.

“Nope, can’t take it back.” Tony mused, “Already said it.” Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“Why do you think we should go after her Buck?” Steve inquired. Bucky’s brows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I think I know her from somewhere.”

[your-eternal-muse]

How Could I Hate Her?

Heather Series Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Bonus! Readers Card Confession Part 6

Summery: When checked on by the team, Reader confesses her guilt ridden feelings

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of depressive episode, light swearing, mentions of medication, but other than that? Nothing that I can think of?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Carmichael, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

Words: 3.1k

A/N: Y’all.....it is almost 4:30 in the morning. I started writing this around 9 pm. I am committed and I have Criminal Minds to keep me company so its fine. Also, there is much needed fluff in this chapter. I also tried writing in 3rd person, because there were things I wanted to show that I wouldn’t have been able to if I didn’t. I hope you like it! I should have a bonus episode out later today at some point when I wake from the dead, so, enjoy! 

~~~~~

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since anyone on the team had seen or heard anything from y/n.

“I stopped by her place a couple days after, to try and talk to her. I couldn’t even tell if she was on the other side.” Derek remarked.

Aaron, Derek, JJ, Emily, David, and Penelope stood in her office, talking about y/n, and how worried they were.

They all just got back from a case.

Spencer had immediately gotten called away from work by Heather, who claimed it was an emergency. None of the others truly believed it was.

“As icky as it makes me feel, I can check to see if she is still in her apartment, I mean. If the place where she lives has cameras, I can easily check to see if she’s left.”

She looks to Hotch for permission.

He nods his head in approval.

“Has anyone else tried contacting her?”

“I’ve tried calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. She turned her phone off.” JJ chewed at her lip, her mind traveling to the worst possible scenario. A scenario she wouldn’t let happen. Not again.

“Poor kid. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.” Rossi’s voice is soft, and he leans back against the wall, eyes not really connecting with anything.

“I know Spencer has tried calling her a couple times. But by the look on his face, I don’t think he got very far.” Prentiss paces back and forth, trying to keep herself busy so she doesn’t go kick down y/n’s door herself.

They all knew. 

Derek couldn’t keep something like that to himself. And when he told the team, JJ stepped forward, and confessed that she knew. Spencer was in disbelief.

Y/n had come to JJ so often over the past couple of months, Will didn’t question it anymore. Y/n said watching Henry, and being around someone she doesn’t have to compete with helped.

She never really saw her smile like she used to, but JJ did see her relax, let her walls down. She thought y/n was getting somewhere. She was wrong. Some profiler she was.

“You should have seen her guys.” Derek had been the one to see her shut down before his eyes.

“She was shaking. She couldn’t stop crying, shaking. She was mortified that he had heard her. And then she just, stopped. She stopped shaking. The broken look on her face completely vanished. She didn’t say a word to me when she left. It was like she turned herself off.”

“Confessing your love for someone who then tells you they don’t love you the same can do that to a person.” Penelope says, typing away at her screens.

“No, it’s so much more than that.” JJ says, taking a seat in one of Garcias spinning chairs. “ Every time she would say something even remotely mean about Heather, or Spencer, she would shake her head, look up and smile. She shoves it down because she doesn’t want to be bothersome. That kind of burial of feelings can only end in an extreme.” JJ thinks back to every night, every tear shed at her house. How y/n would wipe her tears, shake her head and force a smile. 

“I’m in.” Garcia chirps up from her desk, pulling up video footage of a hallway. 

They all circle around, prying eyes eager to look inside the private life of their family, who is in desperate need of assistance.

“So, here she is, the day she left, about an hour after leaving the building.”

They watch the video as she walks down her to her door, tears streaming down her face. She takes her keys out, but before unlocking her door, she leans her forehead against the wood.

Her shoulders shake.

A collective sigh leaves all of them.

“And here I am fast forwarding a couple days.” People walk up and down the hallway, yet her door stays still. Until it opens. She taps a key and the video returns to normal, and a forlorn y/n exists, now clad in sweatpants and a cal tech sweatshirt.

“That’s Spencer’s sweatshirt.” JJ whispers, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Penelope fast forwards again, stopping it when y/n appears once again on the screen.

“Okay, she was gone for about, 2 hours and 43 minutes.” 

Y/n is holding two bags, one in each hand, though neither of them are very full. 

She disappears behind the door, and Penelope fast forwards again. Morgan can be seen a few times, but y/n doesn’t leave again.

“Oh my god. She left once, three days after and hasn’t been out since.” Penelope takes her glasses off, and wipes her face.

“Alright. We’re doing a wellness check. Y/n clearly needs some help right now, so help is what she is getting. Let’s go.”

The team all nodded, and off they went.

When they arrived, Hotch walked to the front desk, his badge already out. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. We’re here to do a wellness check on y/n y/l/n in apartment 112.” 

The front clerk doesn’t question it, simply grabbing a set of keys and leading them down the hallway to an elevator.

Each person is in their own head, but when they appear outside of her apartment, their focus changes. It was about y/n now.

“Y/n, are you in there? Baby girl, can you let us in?” 

They stand and listen for a shuffling of feet or the sound of a chair, but nothing.

Radio static.

Hotch nods to the man, and he unlocks her door, allowing the team into her apartment.

It’s dark. 

That’s the first thing Derek notices as he walks forward. The second is how cold it is. 

The third is the glass breaking underneath his boot.

His eyes land on the pile of shards beneath him, and the move to the book laying on the floor, and the broken mirror which still stands on her wall.

He’s trying not to profile her, but it’s hard. 

She didn’t even want to look at herself.

The team walks through her apartment, taking in the abandoned bowls of half eaten food, the empty liquor bottles and faint smell of cigarette smoke.

The path leads them to the living room, where y/n is curled up under a blanket on her couch beneath an open window. 

Derek walks over and shuts it, his heart aching at the sight before him. 

Y/n clutches a pillow to her chest, her grip tight. Unfinished chinese sits in front of her, beside an ashtray filled with buds. 

An empty bottle of medication lays on the ground next to her, and he prays to a god he stopped believing in years ago.

She’s mumbling in her sleep, and the team gathers around, varying versions of wet eyes.

Derek is the one to kneel beside her, and place a hand on her shoulder. He’s relieved when he hears her mumbles, feels the warmth beneath his fingers.

“Baby girl. Baby girl, I need you to wake up.” He knows she’ll feel cornered. He knows it’s a lot to wake up to. But he knows she needs this.

She stirs and her eyes open, cloudy and grey. They flick up to him and then around the room, taking in the sight.

She wants to cry.

She begins to move herself in a sitting position, and Rossi can’t help but notice how thin she’s gotten the last couple weeks. She looks tiny compared to Derek. He just wants to hold her, and never let her go.

JJ notices her lips are chapped, and the dark circles under her eyes. She turns and heads towards the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“What are you all doing here?” Her voice is hoarse. She hasn’t spoken in days, unless you count the incoherent sentences she sobs at three in the morning. 

Aaron wishes he had stepped in sooner. Her hands shake as she moves to brush hair out of her face. She was his daughter, even if not by blood. He doesn’t know how he couldn’t have seen this.

Emily notices the dry wet spots on her t-shirt, and the pillow that now rests in her lap. She bites her lip to keep her own tears at bay.

“Don’t you have more important things to do?” The words are laced with guilt and self-hatred. How can she possibly take them from a case that could be 10 times more important than her?

Derek runs a hand over her head, wishing he could take her pain away in the blink of an eye.

JJ appears with a glass of water.

“You’re family, y/n. We take care of our family.” Penelope falls to her other side, and grabs y/n’s hand, clasping it in between her own.

JJ moves a couple things on her coffee table, sitting down and handing her the glass of water.

Y/n takes it with her free hand, taking a sip from it.

“Sweetheart, when did you run out of medication?” Derek's voice is soft, it almost breaks near the end, but he holds out.

She sniffs, rubbing the back of her hand under her nose. “A couple weeks ago. They’re filled, I just haven’t….I couldn’t…” 

She hands the glass of water back to JJ. Her fingers start tapping her thigh.

“Talk to us, y/n. We’re not going anywhere.” JJ starts to cry, but she can’t help it. The situation in which her friend was in, was dark. It was deep. She’s been on the road to where she is for months, and JJ didn’t do anything.

Y/n thought for a moment. About lying, saying she was fine, that she was coming into the office the next day, that she was over it. But she was tired. Tired of running. Tired of lying.

“I love him.” Her voice is wet, flem and saliva coating each word as it leaves her mouth. The sentence isn’t louder than a whisper. 

She clears her throat, and grabs the glass back from JJ, taking a longer gulp.

Her head hurt.

No one speaks. 

No one moves.

“I love him.” The tears flowing down her cheeks are different from the ones she’s shed the past couple months. They’re warmer, more full. It relieves the stinging behind her eyes a bit.

“I love him, and I can’t help but tell myself over and over how much better she is than me.” She turns her palm over in between Garcia’s and clutches it with every fiber of her being. “Every bad thing I’ve ever thought about myself is ringing through my ears, in her voice.” She chokes on her sobs, and the room is filled with the months of feelings building in her chest.

“I hate her.” The words fall from her tongue and her chest falls. A weight has been lifted.

“I hate her, and I hate that I hate her. Why should I? She’s pretty, she’s accomplished, she makes him happy.” She looks up at Derek, eye’s pleading. “She is everything, and has everything that I can never have or be. And it kills me.” 

JJ takes the glass before it slips from her hands, and sets it down, mirroring Penelope and clutching y/n’s hand between hers.

Y/n leans into Derek, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight embrace, resting his chin on her head.

She cries and cries, and finally after months, she breathes. Her tears stop and she lets the oxygen fill her lungs and she breathes. 

For a moment, sniffles throughout the room are all that can be heard. And then Aaron speaks.

“Morgan, I think you should take y/n to go get her meds. A little sunlight and some time out of the house will do her some good.” 

She retracts herself from Derek, a slight pink returning to her cheeks. She nods. 

“And when you get back, I’ll help you shower.” JJ whispers rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand.

Another nod. 

Penelope and JJ let go of her, and she stands. 

Penelope notices that she’s wearing the same sweatshirt from the video.

Derek stands with her, one hand on the small of her back, the others holding hers protectively. 

“Where are your shoes sweetheart? I don’t want you cutting yourself on the glass.”

“They’re in the kitchen somewhere. I kicked them off and didn’t notice where they landed.”

“Okay. We’ll just be careful, okay?”

Another nod. 

The team moves as she does, not crowding her, but never being too far away.

Derek helps her get her shoes and coat on, and leads her out the door.

Once the door shuts, Hotch turns to the others. “Alright. JJ, Emily, start in her bedroom and bathroom. Laundry, bedding, the whole nine yards. Garcia, start in here. I would suggest going through her laptop to see if there's anything we should know about. I know you don’t like it, but in order to make sure she’s safe, we have to.” 

The three women nod, and Penelope is already grabbing the laptop that lay at the end of the couch. 

“I’ll work on cleaning the kitchen, and David,” He turns to Rossi, already rolling up his sleeves. “I’m sure she doesn’t have much food on hand, and she could probably use a home cooked meal.”

“Say no more. I’m on it.” 

~~~~~

The car ride to the pharmacy was quiet. 

I can’t say it wasn’t nice to get out of the house. I missed the light. 

It was early February, so pink and red hearts decorated the storefront in preparation. 

I hated the thought of valentines day during all of this. The thought of what he would be doing for her drove me insane. 

It still makes my heart ache.

“What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours, baby girl?” 

I shift my focus, turning back to the driver's seat where Derek sat.

“Just thinking about how much I hate valentines day. It’s over commercialized and the guy who named it named it after himself, selfish prick.”

I see Derek chuckle. “That you are right about.” 

I let a small smile slide across my face, and for once it’s not forced. I know not everything will be better right away. I know it’s gonna take time. But still.

It feels nice knowing I’m not alone.

We arrive, and he parks.

We sit for a minute in the silence, and his hand reaches over and takes mine in his grasp.

“I want you to know, that you are a million times better than Heather could ever wish to be. And any dude who doesn’t see that isn’t as smart as he appears.”

He turns his body, so he’s fully facing me. “If you ever feel like this again, I want you to call me right away. Even if that voice inside your head is telling you it’s nothing, call me anyway. You’re not alone, y/n. And I will do anything and everything it takes to make you see that.”

I squeeze his hand, and nod. “I promise, Derek.”

“Good. Now let's go get you your medication.” 

I nod, letting go of his hand, and releasing the seat belt, and climbing out of the car.

The pharmacist greeted me with my name and a smile, handing me the white paper bag that held a refill that was long overdue.

Before leaving, my eyes caught something inside a soda cooler at the front. 

Derek stops and follows my eye. “What is it, love bug?”

I point to a purple bottle. “When I was a kid, and I had a bad day at school, or life just got to be too much, my mom and I would go to the movies, and watch the most cringy, bad looking movie they were showing. We would sit in the back and eat our weight in popcorn while making fun of everything. And she would always get a large grape fanta for us to share.”

He smiles, and steps forward, opening the door, and grabbing a bottle. “I think this constitutes a grape fanta than.”

It’s getting easier to smile at him.

He buys it, and we head back out to the car. 

We sit, and he waits until the pill is down my throat, followed by fizzy grape soda. It's tart and sweet at the same time, and I lick my lips of the stickiness.

The music is a little louder on the drive back.

When we enter the door, the first thing I notice is the smell. It smells like Italian, and the best Italian at that. 

I walk into the kitchen and I see Rossi, towel over his shoulder and wooden spoon in his hand.

He smiles when he sees me. “Ah, principessa, come. Taste. I know pesto cavatappi is a favorite of yours.” 

He ushers me forward, holding out the spoon with a bit of sauce on the end. 

I lean forward, capturing the end with my tongue. 

“Mmm.” I lick my lips, and chuckle a bit. “It’s really good.”

He smiles, setting the spoon down. “Good.” He wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into his embrace. He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, kiddo. Don’t you ever forget that.” 

I smile into his chest. “I won’t.”

“Good. Now go get cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready.”

I nod, setting my soda down on the counter, and walking through my apartment. 

It doesn’t even look like mine. It’s lighter and clean, and every shadow that played tricks on my mind are no longer there.

I look around at the apartment, taking note of how much was done in the time I was gone.

The broken mirror no longer hangs on the wall, mocking me. My couch is back to its original position against the wall, and my windows are closed, the curtains open, letting all the natural afternoon light in. 

My laptop is set up and a playlist of feel good songs is playing softly through its speakers. 

I can’t help myself. 

I start to cry, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, looking around at the room.

How could I have not seen this?

“Oh no, you’re crying. What is it? Can I fix it? What can I do? Tell me what I can do?” Penelope rushes over, her hands running over my arm. 

JJ, Emily, and Hotch enter at her exclamation. JJ is holding a fresh set of clothes for me.

“They’re good tears, Pen, they’re good.” 

The feeling in my chest is warm.

They move around me, hands coming to gently grasp at me.

“I just forgot that I have a family. I don’t know how but I did.”

Aaron smiles at me.

“And man does it feel good to be reminded.”

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[danielleslegacy]

For the Soul || Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

Request: yes / no

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Summary: Reid Request because you gained a follower with your recent story!!: Can you do one where Reid and the (non-BAU) reader have a flirtationship and he’s trying to hide being a genius/being FBI because she’s more “on track” with their age range and he doesn’t want to freak her out (idk how specific you take your requests lmao)  

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: it is just fluff that is all, its tooth-rotting, you’ve been warned.

Pairing: fem!Reader insert x Spencer Reid

All writing is my own, so please don’t steal this. Also, I would appreciate any feedback/comments/requests! xx

*GIF IS NOT MINE SO CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER*

“Amazing Coffee for the huge loser in the corner,” I shout out, a grin stretched across my face. The man stood, a magnetic smile on his face, and walked over to the counter.

“Is that any way to talk to a loyal customer, Y/n,” He says, taking the black coffee (with like 6 sugars) and bringing it to his lips. I lean down onto the counter in front of me, resting my chin on my hands.

I roll my eyes in response, “What are you gonna do? Report me to the manager?”

He smirks up at me, knowing good and well that I own the little coffee shop that we’re currently standing inside of. “That and all of the other patrons might take offence,” He gestures to the empty cafe.

A laugh erupts from my chest, “We’re only empty because it’s after hours, you’re the only one that drinks coffee at this time of day, Spence.”

“We get it, you’re successful,” Spencer says, a smile still playing on his lips, “And I’m not the only one that drinks coffee at night thank you.”

“Oh yeah?” I say teasingly, raising an eyebrow in question, “Tell me, who else is drinking coffee right now?”

“Well, statistically speaking,” He begins and it's almost as if he catches himself, and he stumbles for a moment, “With there being seven billion people alive right now, there is bound to be at least one other person drinking coffee.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says breathily, stifling his laugh, he leans down onto the counter too so that our faces are level.

I rake my bottom lip between my teeth, his eyes watch the action intently, “I’ll have to take your word for it, pretty boy,” I say, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“I like to think you’re the pretty one,” He says smoothly, “Must be why I keep coming back to this god awful coffee.”

My mouth drops open with a gasp, “How… DARE.. you, Spencer!” I shout, taking the cup of coffee out of his hands, “You’re not allowed to have my amazing coffee anymore, I will ban you.”

He lets out a hearty chuckle that makes my heart squeeze with affection and takes the coffee out of my hands again, “I was joking, it’s my favourite coffee.”

“That’s much better,” I say a grin spreading across my face, “How was work?”

“Long,” He says, taking another sip, “I’m just glad to be home. I missed my bed.”

“And me,” I finish for him, giving him a wink.

He nods his head bashfully, “Yes and you.”

“Where did you go?” I ask rounding the bench and begin packing away the rest of the furniture for the night.

“Florida,” he says, grimacing.

“Oh gross,” I say with a laugh, “What was happening there?”

“Nothing really,” He says quickly, “How’s the shop been? Uneventful without me dropping in at,” He checks his watch, “Seven-thirty?”

“Same old, same old,” I say waving my hand, “Can you throw me the spray and wipe?” And he does, “We had one guy come in on Tuesday morning completely hammered, he could barely stand, I had to ask him to leave.”  

“You okay?” Spencer asks, walking over to hand me the tools and I begin to wipe down the tables.

“Yeah, but he was freaking out my employees, kept talking about the FBI and stuff,” I huff, “He must have been drinking at the Bar across from Quantico and walked down the street to try and have breakfast here. But I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from him and neither did the girls that were working so I asked him to leave.”

“What was he saying?” He asks, voice completely serious.

I wave my hand, “Just saying things like the FBI, only consisted of robots and people who wanted the world to burn. You know normal conspiracy theorist stuff.” I laugh. Spencer doesn’t. In fact, I can practically feel his discomfort radiating off him. I finish the table I'm on and turn around to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he left pretty quickly, I wasn’t too worried. I think a couple of my regulars are agents so I wasn’t too worried that he would get violent,” I say, letting him know that it’s not something that was bothering me.

He nods his head and leans against the counter once more letting me finish my cleaning.

After finishing it all up, I throw the spray and wipe into the back room, and walk back out to Spencer. “What’s your plans for the night?”

“I’m about to head home,” Spencer says, finishing his coffee and handing the cup back over to me, “Why?”

“I was planning on a quiet night,” I say honestly, placing the cup into the sink for the morning crew to deal with, “But if you didn't have any plans, did you want to stay here a little longer? My apartment is upstairs.”

When I was looking at a place to start my business, I remember meeting the landlord, who loved me and offered to rent me the place above it for a decreased rate if I accompanied both places, and I was quick to jump on the offer. I knew how convenient it was to be so close to my workplace and it was in a prime part of town. And quite honestly I loved the place before I even stepped into the space. It was a fairly small apartment, pretty much entirely open plan except for the bathroom, and a small space that I had turned into my study. My bedroom, living area and kitchen were all connected, with no walls separating them. And I loved it that way.

“Yeah sure,” He says, following me around and up to my apartment.

“This is where the magic happens,” I say opening the door and gesturing for him to enter, “And by magic I mean the cooking and sleeping kind.”

Spencer lets out a hearty chuckle. He throws his eyes around my apartment, and they land on my coffee table, which is littered with books. “I didn’t know you were a reader.”

I nod my head, “I love it, it lets me relax before I sleep. What about you?”

“You could say that I enjoy it,” He says taking a seat on my sofa and pick’s up the book that was on the top of the stack, C.S Lewis’ “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. “I’ve read this one before, it is speculated that Lewis was actually experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs when he wrote the book. So it’s not really the innocent story that it seems like originally.”

“Okay, wow, how did you know that?” I ask, impressed with his knowledge of the book.

Spencer adverts his gaze, “I think I read it in a journal once.”

I take off my coat and come to sit down next to him, sitting on it sideways, so that I can face him. “So you’re a smartie,” I say giggling.

He places the book back down and turns to me, “My coworkers like to call me the resident genius,” He says, almost as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

“Wow, impressive,” I say smiling up at the man, “What other things do you know?”

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” He says facing me, “I know a lot about a lot of things. That’s kind of my job.”

“What?” I ask, slightly shocked, “What do you do?”

“I’m with the FBI,” Spencer says, voice laced with self-consciousness, “I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Spencer!” I say enthusiastically, “That is so cool! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out, it’s a pretty intimidating job, and I didn’t want to lose you,” He says honestly, placing a hand onto the one I have rested on the top of the sofa.

I take his hand in mine, “I am continually surprised and impressed by you mister Spencer Reid.”

“It’s actually doctor,” He smirks, his confidence building.

“Sorry, Doctor Spencer Reid,” I giggle, “so tell me, mister FBI, what’s it like?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “It’s not as fun as you would think.”

I nod my head, listening to him tell me about his job. It’s almost like a different version of Spencer appears as he talks animatedly about each of his coworkers and what it is that he does. “And my eidetic memory helps me remember all of the things I need for cases.”

“Okay, when you said that they call you a genius you weren’t joking.”

The blush rises in his cheeks and Spencer bites his lip softly. “This isn’t freaking you out?”

“No, Spence,” I say shifting so that I’m closer to him, “Not at all, it’s incredibly attractive.”

His eyes flick down to my lips, and before either of us could make a move, his phone lets out a loud ring. To which Spencer groans and throws his head back, fishing it out of his pocket. “Sorry, it’s work,” he confesses.

“It’s fine, answer,” I say, smiling at him.

“Hello Garcia,” He begins, and I get up and walk away, to give him a little privacy.

“I’m actually with a friend,” He says, his gaze drifting to me, “Is he sure? Okay, I’ll get back to you. Bye.” He hangs up and stands, crossing the room so that he’s in front of me, “What we’re your plans for the night again?”

I look at him sceptically, “I was spending time with you, why?”

“Would you like to come to dinner with my coworkers, well they’re more like my family, because I spend so much time with them,” He starts rambling obviously nervous.

“Yeah, I would love to come, Spence,” I cut him off, “You want to drive or me?”

Tension releases from his shoulders and he beam at me, “I’ll drive.”

Once in the car, Spencer tells me that his whole team is having a group dinner, a kind of team bonding session. He briefed me on each of the members, trying to help as much as he can.

“You know I can take you back home if you’ve changed your mind, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” He says as we pull up in front of the impressive mansion, and turns the car off.

“Spencer Reid,” This draws his attention towards me, his eyes lock with mine, “I’m excited to meet them, no need to be worried.”

He nods his head and we exit the car and walk up to the door. Spencer rings the doorbell and is quickly back at my side. Nerves begin to bubble in my chest, until hours ago I didn’t even know who these people were, and they most definitely didn't know me. What if they don’t like me? Or that I’m not welcome or don't fit in? I don’t think Spencer would stop being friends with me over that, but my growing feelings for the man would complicate the situation. It’s almost as if Spencer can feel my doubts, as his hand reaches down to join with mine, he squeezes it softly.

“Thank you, pretty boy,” I say, throwing him a wink. The door opens to reveal a man, with a cloth tossed over his shoulder.

“Ey, Reid,” The man says, pulling a laughing Spencer in for a hug, and a kiss to each of his cheeks.

“Rossi,” Spencer says, stepping back, “This is Y/n.” He gestures to me.

“Hi,” I say softly, extending my hand out to shake his. But instead, the man wraps me in a hug and I let out a surprised laugh and hug him back.

“Sorry I’m a hugger, I’m David Rossi, but please call me Dave,” He says once he releases me. “Come in, Come in. We were just about to pour the wine.”

We make our way into the large kitchen and I notice the group of people stood around the island. Their laughter and conversations subside as they notice our presence. My eyes flick over the group. Each of them wears a matching expression, surprise, eventually my eyes make it to a familiar face.

“Wait, JJ?” I say, my face breaking out into a grin. The woman makes her way over to us and wraps me in a hug, which I return quickly. Once we release, she hits Spencer’s arm softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew, Y/n?” JJ says accusatory.

“Wait, how do you know each other?”

I let out a giggle, “JJ was my first customer when I opened my shop, and now shes my second most regular customer, I can always guarantee that she will come in and order her black coffee as soon as I open the shop.”

“Hey, I can’t help that the coffee is so good,” JJ says, shrugging.

“So you know JJ and Spencer, but not the rest of the team. So let me introduce,” Rossi says, placing a hand on my arm to guide me over to the rest of the team, JJ and Spence following soon behind. Dave introduces me to each of the members, all of them give me a warm smile and tell me that they’re glad I’m here.

“So how long have you two been dating?” The dark-haired woman, Emily, asks. “Uh,” Spencer stutters, “We’re not dating.”

“No?” Morgan questions, clearly puzzled.

“Nope,” I say, “We’re just friends.”

“Pretty boy come on,” Morgan groans.

“That’s what I call him,” I laugh, to which Morgan hums, asking what I meant without words, “Pretty boy.”

Morgan lets out a laugh, muttering that he likes me already under his breath.

“Wine?” Dave calls out to me.

I shake my head, “No thank you, I’ve got the morning shift.”

“Wait you didn’t tell me that, when do you need to be home?” Spencer quickly interjects, clearly unsure if I should be out, as he knows that I have to be up to open the shop at 4:30 if I’m on the morning shift. I wave my hand letting him know that it’s okay. Looks are thrown between members of the team, all silently swooning of Spencer and I’s obvious feelings for each other.

“Where was your shop again Y/n?” Penelope asks, a smile on her face.

I smile back at the woman, “It’s actually just down the street from where you guys work, next to Taylor’s bookshop.”

“Wait, what was the shop's name again?” Hotch questions.

“Pour l'âme, It’s french,” I laugh, “It means for the soul, but doesn’t the french version sound so much better.”

“Spencer has definitely brought group coffee to the BAU from there at like 9 o’clock at night,” Morgan says, “And there is no way that you’re open that late.”

My eyes flick to Spencer, whose face is red, “You would be right.”

“So that means that you’re making at least seven coffee’s for dear boy wonder here in your after hours,” finishes Penelope.

I nod my head in response.

“Far out Reid, if you don’t make a move I will,” Emily jokes and the group lets out a collective laugh.

The rest of the night goes on without a hitch, the team continues to make jokes at Spencer’s expense, and I'm sure that it's a normal thing for them to do anyway.

The clock ticks over to ten thirty, and Spencer and I say our goodbyes to the team. Each of them gives me a hug, aside from Hotch who had already left.

“Thank you for dinner, Dave, and thank you for having me everyone, it was great to meet you all,” I say, placing my coat over my shoulders, hoping they understand how truly grateful I am to be included.

“You’re more than welcome at my dinner table any night of the week,” Dave says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

The rest of the team makes comments that suggest they agree. And my heart squeezes, they have successfully made me feel so welcomed and like a part of the family already. We throw goodbyes over our shoulders, and Spencer's hand falls into mine and we walk down to his car. He opens the door for me, but before I get in I wrap my arms around his waist.

“Thank you for taking me, Spence,” I say, burying my head into his chest. Spencer’s arms wrap around me and we just stand together for a moment. My heart races at the intimate moment.

“I’m so glad that you could come,” He mutter’s into the top of my hair, “I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to come without you anymore.”

I let out a laugh and pull away from him and get into the car, and we travel back to my apartment. Spencer parks his car and gets out following me to the back entrance to my apartment. We stand outside of my front door.  

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” I confess, a surge of confidence racing through me, “I like being around you. In fact, I think I’m going to surgically attach us together so that I’m always around.”

The two of us laugh. Our eyes lock in the light of the moon, cliche I know, and I can tell that Spencer’s eyes are concentrated on me. His eyes flick down to my lips and I rake my tongue over them.

“I like being around you too,” He whispers, inching closer to me. I can feel his breath on my face at this point, the cinnamon scent that he's always wearing envelops my nose and I feel at home, I feel safe. He leans down slowly and hovers his lips over mine, leaving me time to pull away if it’s not something I want. And oh god do I want it. I step up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his, bringing my hands up to hod his face. His own go around my waist and pull me closer to him. Our lips move together in perfect harmony and it's almost as if the rest of the world slips away. I swipe my tongue over his lips and he opens his mouth to me. We fight for dominance and eventually he wins, pushing me backwards a little bit and we hit my door with a thud, causing us both to laugh and break apart. I grab the back of my head.

“Ow.”

“I’m so sorry,” He says laughing. He places a hand to the back of my head, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say smiling, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth slightly. “So, when are you finally going to ask me out?” I tease.

He lets out another laugh and steps back from me, oozing confidence, “Hey you're the one that told the team that we’re just friends.”

“We are just friends,” I quip back.

He shakes his head, “Do you want to be just friends?”

I shake my head no.

“Good, me either.”

Taglist

@saucybeeches​ 

[inforapound]

The Devil Inside  -  Part 5

Thanks for reading. I’m going with a couple of shorter chapters instead of one long finale. Hope you like it. 

Pairing - Ivar and reader       

Warnings - dark Ivar, explicit smut, bad relationship, toxic love 

By the following night without a word from Ivar, not a single call or text, and no sign of the black Camaro, you were no longer laughing. It felt like your world had collapsed to the ground. And, that alone was confusing as he was the one who had been such a prick. Right? Hadn’t he? Still, it was impossible to escape the feeling of guilt and some hard-to-define panic.

Your Ivar! Your beautiful, intense, complicated Ivar; his only fault being how much he loved you.

Was it actually over, you wondered for the zillionth time? Could the two of you work it out or would you never speak again? Would he ghost you? Ah yes, that was the fear creating the panic; you were worried he would write you off as though you had never existed. Just that idea, despite his display of rage, made your blood run cold and your heart straight-up rejected the notion that you were better off without him.

After months of the two of you cocooning away and blowing off the world, you were grateful, grateful, that your two best friends had your back. One look at your pale, despondent face the previous day, walking into class, and they flew into BBF mode.

God, they were great but you questioned their thinking. How would going out, within 24 hours of your love story ending, possibly help you?

But… there you sat in your room wearing a one-shouldered purple dress and strappy heels while Amanda carefully lined your lips and Kim flat ironed your hair. They yattered away as if to distract you, talking about what an asshole Ivar was, a complete psycho, and thank god you hadn’t slept with him. Eeeek, all that solidarity, and you had given them a watered-down version of what had happened during the fight.

Barely taking in their words, you thought over and over all that had been said in his car, questioning if it had truly been that bad. It felt awful at the time, but things seemed different after such a long time without hearing from him. Did it mean you had forgiven him? Definitely not but you still felt like a balloon bouncing in the wind without your Ivar.

Under it all, he just needed you and the thought of you with another guy was more than he could process. How can that be a bad thing? And it had been you, YOU, who desecrated his most treasured possession, his beloved mother’s necklace, a necklace he had imparted so lovingly. Wasn’t your behaviour as bad or even worse? Could he forgive you?

Tears rose in your eyes making the girls stop and stare, looking like a pair of barn owls.

“Oh babe,” Kim whispered squeezing your shoulder and Amanda leaned in, looking as if she was pitying a dog.

“Tonight is exactly what you need,” she nodded. “The dance will take your mind off of everything. Trust me.”

WELL, THAT WAS A FUCKING LIE.

The school gymnasium was dark and stuffy, the music pounding and the strobes seemed to flash all the way into your brain. It was the last place you needed to be! God! Every guy wearing a leather jacket made you do a double-take and Ivar’s absence screamed louder than the noise. Just twenty feet away your friends were dancing and yet you had never felt so alone. That must have been how Ivar felt, that day on the road, watching you run away from him. Your poor, love….. Where was he?

“Is it really you? Are you honestly here?” asked Mark Hasting as he, all-of-sudden, appeared at your side, reeking of weed and smiling one of his squinty-eyed smiles. “Mr. Lothbrok let you out of his grasp for a night. I almost don’t believe it.”

Not a word came out of your mouth and you looked from Mark back to the dance floor unable to tell him that the two of you had broken up. And….. that it was all your fault. Instead of easing Ivar’s fears, you had doused gasoline on his pain. Should you tell Mark that? What a horrible person you were? Oh god, what had you done?

Taking a deep breath, a gasp really, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Mark?” you cried out and it turned into a sob.

“Yea, heeey, what’s wrong?” he scrunched his forehead with concern and stepped closer.

“Can you give me a lift home? I can’t be here right now.”

----

Waving your thanks to Mark, you watched him reverse out of the driveway and closed the front door. Not taking the time to remove your coat or turn on the lights, you riffled through your purse looking for your phone. You had to find Ivar.

Would you call or text? Call! Yes, calling would be better and if he didn’t answer, you’d go straight over to his house. Oh god, that was a nerve-wracking thought, driving over and just walking in. What if he wasn’t alone...what if some chic was there? Your mind began to spin as your insecurities played tricks despite knowing, in your heart-of-hearts, how unlikely that was.

Bringing his number up on our phone, you headed through your dark kitchen toward your room, your ears still humming from the music at the dance. Staring at his number, you slowed to a stop and leaned against the hallway wall, sliding down to sit on the carpet. It was time.... and it felt scary as you had no idea where to start and Ivar was not a guy to make things easy. It was no stretch of the imagination to envision him picking up and not saying a word, just listening on the other end as you stuttered on. Regardless, there were things that needed to be said and for your part in the horrible mess, you wouldn’t keep score. Honestly, how could any girl keep score who dated Ivar Lothbrok?

Deep breath in, you steadied your nerves and hit dial, your ear pressed to the phone as it began to ring. Waiting, listening, holding your breath, you didn’t at first hear the faint buzzing sound. It was when you lowered the phone that it captured your attention. Ending the call, you sat straining to identify it but all was quiet in the house; the sound was gone. Tapping his number again, you redialed, keeping the phone in your lap, your eyes fixed on the screen. The ringing began again along with that same buzzing.

Holy shit! Ivar was there! Somewhere in the house with his phone!

Ending the call, you weren’t sure what to do but panic hit your chest, and as if on autopilot, you silently pushed yourself up to stand. You didn’t call out his name, instead, walked, tiptoed, to your bedroom door hesitating when your hand touched the handle. Why weren’t you calling out to him? Why was your door closed?

A thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in your head but none you could name. Snap out of it, you blasted yourself! It’s Ivar, your boyfriend, your true love; the guy you had been pining for all day. Not some intruder on the other side of the door ready to do horrible things. Right? Of course not…. Of course not….you repeated to yourself.

Carefully you turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. Your room was dark and at the end of your bed sat a hooded figure... waiting. The light was too dim to see his face and his hood concealed his outline. It was the tension in the air and the way his head suddenly tilted to one side, looking in your direction, that confirmed it was him.

“Oh my god!” you finally cried, and swiped the wall, hitting the light-switch on; both of you instantly recoiling and squinting from the brightness. “Ivar! You terrified me!”

Making no move to stand, he kept looking at you, his eyes skipping over your face and down your body, clearly analyzing the details of your appearance. It was his forced, joyless laugh that made every muscle in your body tense. Steadying himself, he fell silent before sighing in a way that gave no indication of his state of mind. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers, beckoning you closer, his wicked blue eyes conveying that all was not well.

Placing your phone on your dresser, you removed your coat, throwing it to the floor, and stepped out of your shoes. Walking toward him, you lowered to the carpet and stood on your knees, pushing in between his legs. He never took his eyes off yours and your mouth went dry from the intensity.

So fast it made you flinch, he brought his hands up and cupped your cheeks. Normally it would have melted your heart but his steeliness strummed all your nerves.

“Ivar?” you peered up into his bottomless eyes, his brows furrowed. “Babe, I was just calling you. All-day, I.…”

“Where are your parents?” he cut you off. “They’ve been gone all day.”

“Oh...” you hesitated, ignoring how he knew that, “They’re away. My mom is gone until Tuesday, my dad was supposed to be back tonight but his flight got messed up. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

It was hard to know what answer he was looking for, but that didn’t seem it as his face remained unchanged.

“They leave you alone over-night? A teenage girl with a bedroom on the ground floor and her fucking window unlocked. Any creep could get in.”

The irony was lost on him and pointing it out was not the thing to do. Instead, you waited for him to finish, knowing he didn’t actually want you to answer.

Not taking his eyes off you, he seemed to grimace as he, again, scanned your cheeks, and eyes and mouth, his eyelids narrowing further.

“And who are you so dressed up for, hmm? Mark?”

“No!” you rushed. “He just gave me a ride home from the dance. I asked him to. I was crying.”

That admission made his face flicker but only slightly.

“I was upset about our fight and missing you,” you explained.

Using your courage, you raised your hands and finally touched him, resting them on his thighs.

Instantly, he turned and you thought for a moment he was moving away but instead, he leaned back and grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand.

“It's okay, I’m not upset anymore. Thank you,” your eyes flitted down to the yellow box he held up for you.

“No,” his face tightened, “Wipe your face. Take that stuff off.”

“Wha?”

“That lipstick,” he quipped, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the box, urging you on. “And that crap on your cheeks.”

Slowly, you grabbed a tissue, pulling it from the box, another withdrawing behind. As you wiped the pink gloss from your mouth, and blush from your skin, he reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing the extent of his exhaustion; his pale face and dark ringed eyes and messy hair that for the first time had no product in it. Seeing his weariness, you wondered what kind of sleepless and heart-broken roller-coaster he, himself, had been on since your fight.

Grabbing the dirty Kleenex from you, he tossed it onto the floor and took your chin in his hand making you wish he would just break the tension and kiss you.

“You know I don’t like you wearing make-up.”

“I know, it's just...”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know,” you tried to look down, but he held your face in place, forcing you to look at him. You felt as if you were being scolded

“You don’t need that shit. You are so beautiful.” Shaking his head, his eyes lowered for a second and he sighed your name, his body and defenses softening and you jumped at the opening.

“Ivar,” you whispered, rubbing your hands over his jeans. “Babe,” you cooed softly making him close his eyes, frowning as if your affection pained him.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he said quietly, opening his eyes and glaring. “What am I going to do?”

“Kiss me,” you replied despite his harsh look, thinking of the first day he picked you up at lunch. “Kiss me, and everything else will come,” you whispered and his face began to blur as tears rose in your eyes.

And like that, his mouth was on you, his hands holding your face, his breath revealing his relief and his whimper giving away his desperation. Your sweetheart was aching for you, all this time, but he had no idea what to do. His tongue pushed inside your mouth, his lips demanding more and you lifted your hands and gripped his hoodie, bracing yourself from the force of his emotions. Your beautiful Ivar had been adrift without you. Utterly lost!

Pulling back, he stared at you, his face filled with agony. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

“Never. Reject. Me. Again,” he articulated as his nostrils flared, his threat easy to hear but you could see past it. “From this moment on, this second on, we belong to each other. Even more than we did before. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”

“I was always yours, Ivar,” you sounded like you were pleading for him to believe you. “And I always, always, will be. I need you,” you whispered.

“I need you,” he repeated back as if swearing a vow. “Now,” he let go of your face and straightened. “Show me,” he jerked his chin and the slightest wave of arrogance came over him. “Show me,” he said again, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly. “With your mouth.”

What?

Was this a test, you wondered, wishing he’d continue touching you with the same love and need you felt just an instant ago. But of course his defenses were still up; he was searching for reassurance. The same reassurance you didn’t give the day before making the situation explode. Your poor Ivar, you would not let him down twice.

Nodding, you looked down at his lap, running your hands over the bulge in his jeans. If this was what he needed to feel your devotion, you would indulge him. In a flash, your quick hands had his jeans open, his beautiful cock upright in your grasp. It always amazed you how smooth his skin looked, his head a shade darker than the rest but all flawless with the slightest sheen.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth, loving how it felt and his hand grabbed the back of your neck, not pushing but letting you know that he could. God, he tasted amazing; salty and clean and you tightened your fingers around his base and started to move.

Oh how you loved the way he hissed when you bobbed your mouth up and down, his hips jerking and his grip on your neck getting tight. Each time you took him into the back of your throat, it triggered that reflex and like some submissive craving pain, you were instantly turned on. What was wrong with you that the idea of suffocating on him made you wet? Picking up your pace made him moan and you began to slam down a little harder and a touch further each time, making yourself gag.

“Fuck!” he snarled in response clearly loving the sounds of it. “You want to choke on my dick, baby? Hmm?” he grunted out into the room. “Aw fuck I missed you. Last night and all fucking day, I missed you....so much.”

On you moved, and sucked and slurped, your lips sliding down his shaft, your throat getting used to the roughness.

“I’m so lucky to be with you. Fuck!” he growled, rolling his hips up toward your mouth. “I don’t give a shit about that other guy anymore. None of that matters. I just want to be with you. I love you.”

That was the closest you knew he‘d ever come to apologizing.

“Yea, baby, suck it,” he groaned again, “Suck my cock. You’re so beautiful. But don’t get greedy, I have plans for you tonight.”

Reaching down he yanked up the skirt of your purple dress, shimmying it higher until it was above your waist and you were kneeling in your thong. He obviously liked it as he growled and slapped your ass hard before pulling you off of him, his eyes staring at your mouth which must have looked red and puffy and totally wrecked.

“Get on the bed and open your legs.”

“Pardon?” your eyes flashed wide.

“I’m going to make you mine.”

@blonddnamedhandz  @whenimaunicorn​  @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog    @fields-and-fields-of-poppies  @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere  @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius  @geekandbooknerd  @ivarsgoddess  @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart  @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhelmyna​ @heavenly1927 @cececolbert @peachyboneless @xbellaxcarolinax​​

[han-shinsuke]

m o s s i n m y h e a d

Y U T A O K K O T S U

🔞🔞⚠️⚠️ SMUT

heads up; corruption, family stroke 😂 charr

icon: https://pin.it/2GlfuUV

•••

I had some drinks downstairs. The elders offered so, I accepted those. It was my second time chugging down two bottles of alcohol and I must say it affected my system pretty well. I feel dizzy and all I want right now is to enjoy my bed. I excuse myself and make my way out of the small party in our garden. I pass by through another table occupied by my cousins. They offered a shot but I took them down. I am not a drunkard so yeah, shot rejected. On my way to the glass door, I bumped into a pot that almost sent me flying inside.

“Hey, careful.” The man speaks, holding me tightly on my limbs, “let’s get you settled.” I let out an ‘oh!’ It was Yuta. The foster child of my uncle. From my forearm, his left hand crawls down to my palm and intertwines his fingers with mine as he drags me slow to my bedroom upstairs.

“Can I have a taste of heaven, Y/N?” I may be drunk a little but I heard him clearly. Slowly, he pulls me in his arms as soon as the door closes. “My head is on fire. Both.” Chuckle follows.

“I’m your cousin, Yuta.” My timbre was not convincing. I search for his eyes and when we met, he immediately lowered his head and smooched my lips hard, “on papers but by blood, no connection was established.” His lips pops when he released mine.

“I’m a virgin, Yuta. I cannot guarantee your satisfaction.” I distance myself from him. It’s just the alcohol that made him feel needy, “I know someone who can put out the fire in you. I can phone her for you.” I should have not feel this way. I fish out the phone from my pocket and started dialling my friend’s number. She has a crush on him. They would make a good couple.

“Don’t push me to someone, Y/N.” He says through gritted teeth. My phone disappears from my hand and it crashes againsts the wall. Yuta just broke my phone! “I’ll teach you a trick, babe, okay? We can work you out of your cave, yeah?”

“I’m not tasty.” My sight is far. Staring completely at nowhere. Mind blank. Yuta sits me on the bed and he kneels in front. “I don’t taste good, Yuta.” A tear escapes my eye. What am I crying for?

Yuta was fast. He kisses my tears to stop.

“We will find out about that, babe. I’m gonna remove your short and this thin cover, okay?” He talked softly so, I just nodded.

I rise from the bed. Giving Yuta the time he needed. My denim short was pulled out of my legs but my underwear remains on my knees. Yuta pushes me back on the bed, spreading my legs and peeking over the flesh that lies in between my thighs. He looks at me with sparks of hunger in his eyes and I swear, I never felt so sexy under a man’s stare my whole life.

“We have to be quiet, babe. Can you hold your cute voice down?” Again, I just nodded.

Yuta sits besides me, anchoring my one leg over his thick one. The huge man held my eyes captive as if that was a some kind of ritual in luring me in his charms. I was too focused on his bright ones that I have chosen to disregard his words. “I’m gonna touch you now, babe.” He spits on his fingertips before moving down to the part of me that aches to be touched by a man.

“Yu–Yuta...” My voice was low when I breathed in his name. His touch was warm and his two digits were thick. When he pushes a finger down to the slit, I find myself gripping the hem of my knitted sweater that rest above my thighs. “Tell me if it hurts you.” He pushes again, feeling the bud through his calloused middle.

“N–No... but your touch feels sharp.” And warm. I breathe in again his name with a long soft moan when he doubled the presence between my folds. “Hmm... Yuta..” The fingers rubs up, pressing down the clitx with gentle pressure. Unknowingly, my legs shut closed and as well as my orbs.

It hadn’t been long since my last actions but Yuta was fired enough to hit my knees to separate them and captures my glistening eyes, “stay still.” He licks his lips then continue pressing my bud. The pressure he was putting on it has increases. “Yuta...” I squeal from the abruptness of his fingers. It suddenly moves down, pressuring my tight core with the heavy push. My chest moves up and down, chasing the air that escaped my lungs.

I can feel my cheeks heating up with the way Yuta watches my face whenever I make a sound. “Open your mouth, babe.” There was strictness in his tune so I obliged. Parting my lips as I struggle to breathe. Yuta leans down to my face, ghosting my lips. “I wanna fill your mouth with my cum fuck.” He hisses, rolling out his tongue to my mouth then flicking it against the gum wall. I swear. I fucking swear, I could tell his actions are for testing how I would taste in his. And there it comes, the kiss only a real man could give. “Fuck it.” The curse before the heavenly kiss.

My hands holds onto him when his kiss gets rougher and deeper. His fingers that have been playing with my flesh also gets meaner. He rubs my clitx fast while kissing me so deep that it feels like he was ready to devour my whole mouth.

My legs shakes as well as my lips, “Yuta~ ooh God~” his fingers were getting deeper into my cunt and fuck, I snatch his hand from my folds and cry, “It hurts!” His nails grazed my walls! Yuta stops mid air from kissing my lips again. “It hurts, Yuta.” I repeated.

“I’m sorry, babe!” His expression softened. Yuta touches my cheeks and kisses them softly.

When the pain subsided, Yuta kissed his way down to my neck. Tracing each corners with soft and wet kisses before sucking the skin where he thinks his marks would look better.

“Yuta...” I guess that’s all I can do. Moan his name as he nips the skin to bruise it beautifully. There must have four of them placed on my neck for him to smile sheepishly. “I feel bad for causing you pain, babe.”

“I still have to stretch your core. Bear with me, hmm?” He pecks on my lips and then rolls out my sweater up to my neck before latching his mouth on the two erected buds that makes my body jolts. Not only his fingers were sharp against my skin but also his tongue. It burns the spot his tongue touches. Yuta has to restrain my body inside his arms to minimize the movements I am creating every time his lips pops and sucks my nipplesx.

I don’t recognize the person writhing underneath him. How could a mouth bring out a different version of me? The thought was terrifying.

“Please, Yu–Yuta...” The swirl was rough and abrupt. It made me arched my body and rubbed my naked womanhood against his crotch. He moans, milking a bud, “fuck, babe~ don’t be like that hahnnggg!” I rub my cunt again, holding onto his hair tightly.

“I need you, Yuta!” It ain’t that loud but Yuta was forced to cover my mouth with his hand before feasting over my chest again. “Hmmpppfff~” I shed tears with the continues flicking of his tongue on my chest. The need to cry his name was arising.

Let me moan, Yuta. Let me, please.

I put my hands on his face and try to push him. He tugs a bud and chuckles as he releases my mouth. I gasp for air hungrily. It’s what I need this time. ”You okay, babe?” Yuta asks, drawing circles on my abdomen that clearly has a massive need of air.

“You said you would stretch me, Yuta.” I try moving away from his cage-like position on top of me but he catches my legs and fold them to my chest. “Hold your legs up, babe.”

Yuta undresses himself in a very, very, seductive way that makes me gulp a lump. That was quite a show, I must say. For the second time, Yuta spits... directly on my gaping hole. I savor the warmth of his saliva down there by closing my eyes and licking my lips.

“Fuck me now, sir...”

“We’ll get there, babe but first, stretching.”

I have no idea on how he would do it so, I stay still like a good girl and let him do the work. First, I feel the tip of his two bent digits nudging my tightness, knocking softly, pressing softly against the wall. Secondly, something inside me was opening up with the continues nudging and pressing of the walls as if the nuscles down was making a path for his fingers and lastly, it was embarrassing but by just having Yuta’s fingers stretching my cunt, I find myself dripping wet of my partial orgasm.

“I feel so good hmm... Yuta, please... ”

I heard him chuckle and just like that, Yuta takes control of my legs, wrapping it tightly around his waist. “Yuta hmp!” His next move scares me. He also wrapped his hand around my neck as if he was choking me.

“Moan quietly, babe, do you understand?”

“Yesss~ Oohh gosh, Yutaa hmmm~”

He points his tip and without a warning, pushes it all the way down to my very end. It went smoothly and it stings but the pain was bearable and at the same time, Yuta has a big and long cockx that was enough to make me full and shaking from his upcoming assaults.

My mouth has formed an ‘O’ and definitely my other mouth, too.

“See, babe, it feels good, yeah?” Ah, shit. I touch my belly and shit! His cockx head is carved perfectly inside me for it to make my stomach swells.

“Yuta, oohh God!” He really does not give a warning. His fingers tightened around my neck and for hell’s sake, Yuta pulled halfway then slammed deeper.

“God, babe! Your tightness excites me shit!” He pulls again only to slam harder and deeper.

My core is clamping his length and so my hands on his arm that holding my head down on the bed.

“Yuta... Yuta...” I am currently in a delirious state with all the pull and push as heavy as the weight of the man pounding on top of me.

“Tighten your legs, babe~ I’m gonna ride this fucking cunt to hell!”

And Yuta really did. He rammed himself fully and devilishly into me. Not missing the essential spot to properly stimulate satisfaction with every fast pulls and sickening pushes that drives me to the edge.

“I’m gonna breed you so damn good, babe. Just moan and take it all you fucking virgin.”

No. No. No. I try stopping him from unloading his juice balls deep into my cunt but Yuta knows better how to incapacitated a woman....

Cover her mouth...

Choke her while throwing heavy strikes into her tight cunt...

And most importantly,

flood her pussyx with warm juice.

Breeding complete.

••••

salamat sa maglalabas ng mga saloobin nila 😂

[vampiregirl1797]

Being in Love & Working at the BAU

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

GIF Not Mine.

Click Here For Masterlist.

Word Count: 2,817

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Summary: Y/N realised she was in love with the boy genius of the BAU about six months ago, and she’s been working hard at keeping it under wraps since. Problem? She works with profilers.

When JJ began dating Will it had been obvious to the team from the get go, though the blonde believed she’d done a wonderful job at keeping it from us. At that point, I’d sworn to refrain from hiding anything from the team, because chances are they knew before I worked up the courage to tell them, and also I hated keeping secrets from those I loved.

However, from the moment I realised that I was developing feelings that most definitely were not platonic for a certain member of the team, I found myself taking back my original vow and amending it to the following: be honest about everything but this. And it was difficult. I was constantly monitoring my expressions, my body language and my words whenever I was around him. It was exhausting and stressful, but on the plus side I was almost certain the rest of the team had no idea what was going on. 

I blinked, bringing myself back to the present, seeing as I was at work, focus was key. Though to be fair, almost all of the team had retired to their hotel rooms at that point, so I wouldn’t actually be penalised for getting lost in my thoughts for a minute or two. My eyes flickered over the clear board covered with pictures from the three different crime scenes, and individual pictures of each victim. I always wondered what they were thinking in those photos, they always looked happy and it seemed almost wrong that their happiness had to be in the same vicinity as the gruesome images that portrayed their murder. 

With a sigh, I grabbed my now empty coffee cup and headed over to the small kitchenette in the station. My gaze fell onto Spencer as I filled my mug and I found myself reaching for a new one to pour him a beverage without even thinking about it.

‘Hey Spence,’ I murmured, my voice soft to avoid startling him too badly as I gently placed his steaming hot beverage in front of him.

‘Hey.’ He returned my smile, his brown eyes shining with exhaustion and warmth, ‘what are you still doing here?’

‘Oh, I—.’ I broke off with a sigh, the genuine concern in his eyes made it impossible to lie to him, especially when it was obvious he already knew the truth, ‘I couldn’t bring myself to leave.’ My eyes fell on the clear board again, and lingered on the happy smiling images before I forced myself to look into the warm and comforting eyes of Dr. Reid, ‘I knew if I did I wouldn’t sleep anyway, so I guess I just didn’t see the point.’

‘I understand.’ His eyes fell to the mug he was now holding between his hands as he spoke, and then lifted to meet mine when he was finished. I felt my heart skip a beat in response, as it always did when his beautiful oak eyes were focused on me.

‘We’re quite the pair, huh?’ I chuckled, running a hand through my hair and fighting back the yawn that wanted to escape my throat, ‘how have you been sleeping?’

I saw how hard he fought to keep the exhaustion from his expression before he admitted defeat and let me see it.

‘Spence,’ I murmured, my hand reaching out and grasping his left one. He removed it from his cup and turned it over so that our hands were linked together, ‘is there anything I can do?’

He’d confided a few months ago that he’d been having really awful, vivid nightmares that kept waking him up throughout the night. Eventually, he avoided sleep all together out of fear of what his unconscious mind was waiting to torture him with. I’d offered some tips that had helped me when I’d gone through the same thing: camomile tea, warm baths with lavender oils and playing a soothing playlist to fall asleep to. Since then he’d been sleeping better, but I’d noticed the familiar dark circles starting to form underneath his eyes again.

‘I do have an idea, but if it would make you uncomfortable then I understand.’ He said, biting his lip and subconsciously holding my hand tighter.

‘Okay, what is it?’ Unable to be unaffected by the anxiety that was practically pouring out of him.

‘I read a study that found those who slept in the same bed as their partner reported a higher quality of sleep and no nightmares.’ He spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear him, and when I did, I had to take a minute to process what he’d suggested.

He wanted me to sleep in the same bed as him. I felt different emotions start to I whirl inside of me, each generating a different answer. The anxiety told me that it absolutely was not a good idea. I already had romantic feelings for Spencer, what if doing this made it all the more complicated and more difficult to hide? Another part of me was determined and demanded that I took the opportunity to comfort him, because I loved him and how was I supposed to turn him away when he needed me to help him? But when I looked over to Spencer’s expression I felt the inner turmoil inside my mind fade away—he looked tired, vulnerable and hopeful. All I felt then was a strong desire to help him get a good nights rest and hopefully keep the nightmares at bay. I couldn’t be selfish with him, and if he needed me I was going to help him, even if it meant me being exposed to the feelings I’d been trying to suppress for months now.

‘Okay, but I warn you— I’ve been told I cuddle in my sleep.’ I said, keeping my tone light to diffuse the tension that had formed between us.

He chuckled, the sound was wonderful and I found myself joining him with ease as we both stood to head back to the hotel. According to the clock in the station it was ten thirty, so hopefully we’d get at least eight hours of sleep. As we made our way to the elevator, I wondered how much one night could alter a dynamic between two people.

//

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing, emitting Garcia’s personalised ringtone—‘Baby girl’ by Bryce Vine. My hand went to reach for it, but I stopped short when I realised I couldn’t move. Before I had the chance to panic, Spencer’s familiar scent invaded my nostrils; I could smell the mint smell of his shampoo, the faint remnants of his woodsy cologne and the vanilla from the hand lotion he’d borrowed before bed. He was spooning me from behind and I was helpless to stop myself from melting further into his warmth and turning my head to further take in his comforting scent. I was just on the precipice of falling back into the most peaceful sleep I’d had for years when the phone started to ring again. 

Spencer stirred this time and grabbed it, groggily promising that he’d be in soon before hanging up and tossing his phone onto the carpeted floor.

‘Was that Garcia?’ I asked, clearing my throat in an attempt to remove the sleep from my voice.

‘Yeah, they have a lead and want us in as soon as possible.’ He sighed, his grip not loosening from around my waist, ‘that was the best nights sleep I’ve had in... god I can’t even remember.’

‘It was for me too.’ I admitted softly, fighting the emotions waging a war inside my head.

I was insanely comfortable in his arms, as if I belonged there... as if I was home. But I was sure to remind myself that the feeling was one-sided—Reid didn’t feel that way about me, and why would he? I was his colleague and a friend they trusted enough to confide in about his sleeplessness. Now was not the time to get lost in my own feelings, this had been about him and I refused to allow myself to get lost in my own head.

‘We should get going.’ I murmured, reluctantly easing from his grip and heading for the bathroom to get dressed. 

By the time I emerged, Spencer was gone and I tried to ignore the way that made my stomach drop to my feet. I sent a thumbs up to the text he sent me:

Headed to the station, I’ll see you there. Thanks again for last night. Spencer.

When I arrived at the station I headed straight for the coffee before joining the others at the rectangular table in the conference room. I noticed Emily’s surprised look when she noticed I hadn’t bought a mug for Spencer but I ignored it, unwilling to focus on how I was feeling. Right now I had a job to do, there was no time to deal with the rejection and abandonment coursing through my veins. 

‘Garcia found a link, each victim was registered to a chat room discussing different fantasy novels.’ Hotch announced from where he was stood at the head of the table, his head down as he flicked through one of the case files.

‘And each agreed to a face to face meeting the night before their death with someone by the username Red Youn. I tried tracking the IP address but he’s a smart cookie and re-routed through about a million different servers.’ Garcia revealed from the speaker in the centre of the table.

‘Red Youn is an anagram for your end.’ I thought aloud, ignoring a certain pair of eyes I could feel boring into the side of my head, ‘what if he sees himself as the antagonist in his own version of a fantasy novel?’

‘That would explain the similarities in victimology.’ Morgan commented, talking about their almost identical appearances. 

‘But how would he know that before meeting them?’ My lips pursed, ‘were any of the women in contact with anyone new before they died?’

‘Ahh, sugar you always ask the best questions.’ Garcia praised, ‘yes all three women spoke to a man with the same number on the days leading up to their death. This included sending photographs and discussing their favourite villains in different fantasy novels. I’m sending you the name and address of the person this number is registered to.’

‘Garcia you are wonderful.’ I said, a genuine smile forming on my lips, it was small but it was the first sign of happiness I’d shown since I’d left my hotel room this morning.

‘Aw, tell me something I don’t know.’ She teased before she hung up and we all geared up and headed for the unsub’s residence. 

We had a suspect to arrest.

//

We’d managed to apprehend Jacob Kerwoski successfully and we’d all decided to celebrate with a meal prepared by Rossi at his humble abode. After we’d finished the food we all separated off for different activities— Derek had challenged Garcia to a game of darts, Rossi and Hotch were talking in the library and sharing stories of past cases, Emily and JJ were sat outside each holding a glass of wine and whispering about something they had to keep their voices low for. Reid and I were sat in the living room, I was personally too full to move so I was slowly sinking further and further into the soft cushions around me.

I was grateful that my stomach felt like it was exploding, it provided a distraction from the elephant in the room. I hadn’t directly spoken to Reid since this morning and I didn’t know how to break the awkwardness that existed between us now. I knew it was partly due to my inability to hide my rejection this morning after I’d returned to an empty room once I’d dressed. But it wasn’t his fault that I’d taken it so personally due to my romantic feelings for him. 

‘Reid?’ My voice was soft and tentative.

‘Y-yeah?’ He stuttered, surprised that I’d broken the silence in the room.

‘I’m sorry how I’ve been acting around you today. I just wanted you to know that it’s nothing to do with you, it’s my own issues that I need to deal with.’

He was silent for a long moment after I spoke, his eyes just staring into mine as if he were debating whether or not he should say something. It was a look I was used to seeing on his face— Spence often had thoughts, facts and information swimming around in his head and he had to filter himself. But his next words took me by surprise and had my heart beating out of my chest.

‘I know how you feel about me, Y/N.’ His voice was soft that I questioned if I’d heard him correctly, but the serious expression on his face assured me that I had.

‘H-how do I feel about you Spence?’ I asked, nervously clearing my throat.

‘For the first few years of us knowing each other, you cared for me as a friend, but that changed about six months ago. I don’t know why, and nothing obvious changed in your behaviour. You still bring me coffee, still hug me when I need it, still offer to help me with anything and everything when I need someone to rely on. But the way you look at me now, it’s... softer and warmer. You didn’t used to look at me that way before.’ He said, his voice slower than it usually was when he explained something, his calmness made my heart stutter in my chest.

‘The way you look at me now, it’s the same way that JJ and Will look at each other, except more intense.’ He scooted closer to me on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, ‘I noticed it because I’ve been looking at you the same way for the past year.’

I blinked and my mouth fell open as my brain short circuited with the new information. Spencer had been looking at me the same way— how had I never noticed that before? I’d been so concentrated on not revealing my feelings— that I’d apparently sucked at doing— that I hadn’t noticed a change in Spence’s behaviour like he had in mine. I’d say I was a terrible profiler but I knew that I never would have noticed regardless of anything else, because I’d always believed he deserved better than me.

‘Y-you love me?’ I breathed, the emotion in my voice rendering me incapable of speaking higher than a whisper.

‘I do.’ His smile was soft, his eyes sparkled with an affectionate warmth that simultaneously made my heart melt, and breath catch in my throat.

I’m not sure who moved forward first, or if we both moved at the same time, but the next thing my mind registered was his lips moving agains mine. It started out tentative, but as Spencer’s hand slid in my hair and pulled me even closer to his chest, the kiss deepened. My hands went to his shoulders and slid up to his scalp to curl into his tousled hair. I felt him moan into my mouth when I gently tugged on the strands, and when he started to guide me to lay back onto the sofa I went willingly, pulling him along with me. 

It was hard not to get too lost in the kiss, or to take it further than we should, because finally being with him just felt so right and natural. But eventually we pulled away, reminded that we were at risk of someone walking in on us when Garcia and Derek started cheering in the other room.

‘That was...’ I trailed off, my brain still too lost from the electricity of the kiss, ‘wow.’

‘I-I ugh couldn’t agree more.’ Spencer murmured, his hand sliding from my hair so that he could wind his arm around my shoulders. 

As I melted into his side, we chatted quietly for the rest of the night, our voices no higher than a whisper as it wasn’t necessary and it allowed us to revel in our own little bubble. It was much later, when we were both on the cusp of sleep that I nuzzled my face into the side of his neck and murmured the words I’d been holding back for six months now.

‘I love you Spence.’ My eyes fluttered closed and just before I fell into unconsciousness, I heard my genius return the sentiment.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and a heart overflowing with pure happiness.

A/N: As you can probably guess I’m still watching criminal minds, and finding myself wishing a man like Spencer Reid existed in real life. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot!

[chipper9906]

Heal The Cracks Within My Heart - Chapter 6: No More Tricks

<- - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 8,958

Overall Word Count: 57,236

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (6/?)

Chapter Preview:

“Good to meet y’all,” Miss Minutes said with that unnerving smile, walking – but not really – across Mobius’s desk and over to Loki and Sylvie. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get to work protecting the sacred timeline!”

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled.

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm.

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One of the (few) good things about the sprawling size of the TVA was that there were often parts of it with no one in sight. It was on one of these floors, where the files hadn’t been disturbed for so long that they were collecting dust, that the Gods of Fate had smiled upon them and opened up the Time-Door into. 

Mobius’s head was the first to peek through the Time-Door, looking both left and right down the miniature hallway. Once he had confirmed there was no one that had seen the Time-Door manifesting from nowhere, he waved both Loki and Sylvie through, before stepping fully back into his place of work. 

“This feels so wrong,” Sylvie complains as they walk, tugging at the restricting dress shirt around her neck. Loki regards her from the corner of his eye, scanning up and down her body as he takes in her new uniform. 

“It is a little weird seeing you without your armor.” Loki reaches out to tug at the lapels of her TVA blazer, grinning unabashedly when she smacks his hand away with a weak glare. “–But for the record, I think you look stunning whatever you choose to wear.”

“Oh dear God,” Mobius groaned dramatically in front of them, forcing Loki and Sylvie’s gaze away from each other and over to him. “Is your plan to just constantly flirt with each other to get me to find these files faster? Coz I’ve gotta say, it’s working.”

“It almost sounds like you’re eager to be rid of us,” Loki said, sounding almost offended. Almost. 

“You’re both probably bearable on your own, but the two of you together?” Mobius shook his head. “Nightmares, the both of you. An insane amount of people exist out there in the Universe – now made even bigger with this whole mess you’ve made – countless amounts of variants you could have run into, but no, you had to go and find versions of yourself and hook up with them!”

“First of all, are you telling me you aren't a little bit curious to know what another variant of yourself would be like?” Sylvie asked, bringing Mobius to a grinding halt and turning to face them.

“No, actually. I'm not,” Mobius said in disbelief at her question. “I could have happily gone on with the rest of my life without ever thinking that, thank you. And now I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

“Give it a try,” Sylvie said, throwing a wink in Loki’s direction that nearly made Mobius groan out loud again. “And secondly… no one understands you better than yourself. We have our similarities – a few Loki traits that seem to stick no matter what form we take – but… we’ve both walked different paths. Genetically different, souls the same; but whilst they were formed the same, they’ve been molded by our experiences. So, whilst we may not see things the same way sometimes, at the end of the day, we just…”

“Understand each other,” Loki finishes for Sylvie with a tender smile. 

“God, it really is like puppy love,” Mobius mumbled as he turned back around and continued onwards. “Feels like I’m watching a couple of teens trying to figure out how feelings work…”

“That’s… an apt comparison, actually,” Loki admitted as they both picked up the pace to keep up with Mobius, not wanting to get lost in the maze of TVA corridors. It was only occasionally that they walked through a section with a worker milling about the place, or saw an occasional Minute-Men either patrolling the area or simply passing through to wherever it is they had been ordered to go to. 

“Things seem calmer than last time,” Loki noted. He wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad that the TVA wasn’t still freaking out about the whole multi-versal situation they had on their hands. Every now and then, as they passed through different corridors, Loki would see a flash of that horrific statue proudly displaying 'Him' as he stood over all his subjects. At least they knew now that Sylvie’s guess of being able to select a previously opened Time-Door and return them to the same TVA was correct…

“Things seem empty,” Mobius corrected him. “This place is usually bustling with activity -- and now it’s a ghost town. If we’ve dispatched most of our workers out into the field, then…” Mobius sighed deeply. “Things can’t be doing too well…”

Mobius came to a sudden stop as they rounded a corner, nearly walking straight into a TVA worker who had also been rounding the corner. The man blinked in surprise at Mobius, not even registering Loki or Sylvie behind him. The man pushed his glasses back up his nose, frowning at Mobius before looking somewhere behind him. 

“Mobius? Where have you been? They’ve been looking everywhere for you, man. Judge Whittle’s about to blow a fuse if you don’t get down to his office stat.”

“Forgot I need to grab these guys,” Mobius lied smoothly, gesturing with a flick of his head back to Sylvie and Loki behind him. “They have some, uh… some research I asked them to collect for me that I think could be of some use.”

The man finally looked over to them, thankfully not looking too suspicious of them as his eyes darted between them both. “Right… Well, you better not keep Judge Whittle waiting. What with everything going on, I think he’s trying to hold onto some sense of time, and being late again might just snap his last thread.”

“That’s why I’m headed there now,” Mobius assured the man with a pat on his shoulder and a friendly smile. The man returned the smile, giving all three a respectful nod before walking past them and disappearing out of sight around another corridor. Mobius released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, fixing his already tidy tie as a force of habit. 

“I have to say, you’re an excellent liar,” Loki commended Mobius. “Are you sure you’re not a variant of us, too?”

“God, I hope not,” Mobius retorted, continuing to lead them forward once more. 

“Wait, hang on-,” Sylvie said, tugging at Mobius’s arm. “Did he say Judge Whittle?”

Mobius looked back to Sylvie with a confused frown. “…Yes?”

“What about Judge Renslayer? What happened to her?”

Mobius stopped outside of a stereotypical-looking office door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. “Judge who?”

Both Sylvie and Loki shared a look of surprise, strangely unsettled by the idea that Renslayer apparently didn't exist in this timeline. Or, at least, hadn't been taken from her life to work in the TVA. What other changes would they have to expect to come across in this timeline? And how much of an effect would each small change have?

"Doesn't matter," Sylvie told Mobius. "Just... someone we know from another timeline."

"And by 'know', do you mean 'have killed', or...?"

"Us personally? No," Loki answered. "But last we saw you — the other you — you were headed back to the TVA to give Renslayer our regards, so... we don't actually know what happened to her."

“Given my fighting skills? Nothing, probably,” Mobius guessed, yanking down on the handle and swinging the door open. It was only once Mobius had stepped inside and out of the way of the door that Loki noticed the little golden plaque attached under the little window, the name ‘M. Mobius’ etched into the metal. 

“Come on. I don’t know how much time we have,” Mobius called them into the office. “Considering I’m expected in Whittle’s office, we probably don’t have long until someone comes to fetch me.”

“You have an office?” Loki said in surprise, stepping into the room with Sylvie close behind. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“The you I know never took me to his office,” Loki replied, glancing around the small space that had been allocated to Mobius. It looked… well, like everything else in the TVA, really: neat and organized, drab and boring; painted with soul-sucking colors that, at this point, reminded him of a prison. 

“Maybe he didn’t have one.” Mobius dropped down onto a squeaky office chair, fiddling around with the buttons on one of those ridiculously bulky-looking computer monitors until it whirred to life. “I can’t imagine every variant of myself is good enough at their job for—” 

“He was just fine at doing his job, actually,” Loki was quick to defend Mobius. Which was quite strange, as he was defending Mobius to… Mobius. “Managed to out-lie me a few times, which I can assure you is a tricky thing to do.”

“He was the only one of your bumbling workforce that was able to keep hot on my tail,” Sylvie joined Loki in defending Mobius, much to Loki’s surprise and… a little bit herself, if she was being honest. “I was able to stay one step ahead of him until he roped this idiot in—” Sylvie jabbed a thumb in Loki's direction. “—And he led you right to me.”

“To try and recruit you.” Loki now had to defend himself. “I wasn’t exactly a volunteer worker; it was work with them or be reset.”

“And here comes the old couple bickering…” Mobius mumbled under his breath. Before either Loki or Sylvie could point out that, whilst technically over a thousand years old, they were still considered young by Asgardian standards, Mobius had opened up some sort of application that brought up some virtual files in a holographic display.

Much to both Sylvie and Loki’s displeasure, these files were also accompanied by the cheery bright orange face of Miss Minutes. Sylvie barely restrained herself from unsheathing her sword hidden beneath her blazer and slicing the southern-speaking mascot in half like she desperately wanted to do back in the Citadel. 

“Well, hey there!” Miss Minutes greeted them, sounding as chipper as ever. “Ooo, new faces! Do we have some new recruits, Mobius?”

“You could say that…” Mobius answered, brow pinched in concentration as he swiped through the seemingly endless amount of files in the TVA’s database. 

“Good to meet y’all,” Miss Minutes said with that unnerving smile, walking – but not really – across Mobius’s desk and over to Loki and Sylvie. “I’m sure you can’t wait to get to work protecting the sacred timeline!”

“Oh, simply ecstatic,” Loki said with as much sarcasm as he could fit into one sentence. “Something to finally give my pathetic life some meaning. How about you, Sylvie?”

“Like a dream come true…” Sylvie drawled. 

“Great to hear!” This Miss Minutes was, apparently, incapable of picking up sarcasm. “Is there something you needed my help with, Mobius?”

“Yeah, actually.” Mobius scratched across his upper lip, disheveling his neatly combed mustache. “I’m, uh… getting out new recruits up to speed with what they need to know about… about ‘Him’.”

“Have they had the talk yet?”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about that question made him want to shiver off this layer of discomfort that seemed to coat him. At the same time, the last time someone had ‘the talk’ with him, he was unable to look his mother in the eyes for a good few days. 

Mobius’s eyes flickered up from the monitor to Miss Minutes. “Yeah, they’ve had the talk; they know why they’re here.”

“Well okay then!” Miss Minutes chirped, crossing her arms behind her back with a gleaming smile. “Anything in specific you need me to find?”

“Yeah, any files we have on His TemPad,” Mobius said, wheeling himself back a bit from the desk and yanking open one of the drawers. 

“Bit of an odd request,” Miss Minutes commented as she began flipping through the holographic files in front of them. Mobius continued digging through his desk, searching through different folders with a look of concentration. For a moment, Mobius’s hands stilled over something, but Miss Minutes' overexcited voice stole away their attention. 

“Alright, here we go!” Miss Minutes flicked the holographic file through the air, and both Loki and Sylvie wore matching frowns as it disappeared from sight. The question of where it had gone was answered as Mobius pulled his TemPad out from his desk drawer with an “Ah-Ha!” of success, proudly waving the TemPad in their direction. 

“Anything else you need me to do for you?” Miss Minutes asked, sounding both polite and… terrifying. 

“Uh, no -- this’ll do.” Mobius returned Miss Minute's politeness with a smile of his own – even if it did appear quite forced and strained. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome!” Miss Minutes said before disappearing in a weird move where she seemed to fold into herself, all three in the room thankful for her absence. 

“I never thought a cartoon clock mascot would make me fear for my life,” Loki said, still staring suspiciously at the space where Miss Minutes had vanished from.

“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here…” Mobius muttered, fingers dancing across the TemPad as he brought up the files Miss Minutes had just sent him. His eyes scanned rapidly across the screen, skipping to what seemed to be the most important segments of information. 

“Interesting…” Mobius leaned forward against his desk, resting his head on his hand and tapping his index finger against his upper lip.

“What’s interesting?” Sylvie asked, not appreciating that she couldn’t see the information she needed, whilst knowing that it was right there in someone else’s hands. 

“Oh, just how vastly superior that thing on your hand is to this,” Mobius answered, waving his TemPad around like it was now useless. “For one, the efficiency on that thing? From what I’m seeing, it’s probably… four or five times more so than ours?”

“So, you’re saying that this TemPad can do more before it runs out of battery?” Loki asks, pointing to Sylvie’s hand. 

“Not that you even have to worry about that,” Mobius said with a disbelieving chuckle. “You noticed how that thing doesn’t have a port to charge it?”

Sylvie shot Mobius an annoyed look, crossing her arms across her chest. “Just how oblivious do you think I am?”

“Man, you guys really do find a way to turn people’s words into an insult against you,” Mobius noted, sounding almost amused by the revelation. “Is that a self-conscious thing, or…?”

Sylvie, on the other hand, did not look amused. “I’m good on the therapy session, thanks. You were saying about charging it?”

“Oh, au contraire -- I think therapy would be an excellent choice for you guys,” Mobius teased with a grin, which he quickly wiped off his face at the death stares he got in return. “Alright, alright. The thing about charging this TemPad is… well, that you don’t need to.”

“Come again?” Loki asked. 

“From the looks of things, His version of the TemPad kind of… recharges itself?” Mobius struggled to find the best way to explain what he had just read. “Well, not entirely from itself. The TemPad makes a connection, if you will, with its owner. Or… master, I think would be a better word.”

Sylvie raised her hand up closer to her face, peering down at the TemPad. Almost on cue did its surface come to life, emitting a soothing hum as power ran through its complicated circuits. 

“And… what does the connection do?” Sylvie asked, looking away from the TemPad back to Mobius. 

“It uses you as its batteries,” Mobius answers. “It recharges through you. Your life force, your energy, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Uh, should we be worried about that?” Loki asked, just barely resisting the urge to yank the TemPad off Sylvie’s hand and throw it as far as he could at the thought of it draining away her life. 

“Considering ‘He’ is still alive after eons of using it? No, I don’t think so,” Mobius assured them – although just barely. “At the end of the day, ‘He’ is human, just like us -- uh, well, me, anyway. Taking into account the fact that you guys are both demigods with access to magical powers, I’m pretty sure the TemPad will barely scratch the surface of your energy.”

“Then… how did it not affect ‘He Who Remains?’” Loki asked. “Something that needs that much energy… it has to take its toll.”

“Maybe you can ask him before you kill him,” Mobius suggests. “My best guess? ‘He’ probably needs to ‘recharge’ himself. You know: sleeping, eating; all that boring mortal stuff?”

“You say that like we don’t need to eat and sleep, too.” Sylvie retorts.

“Uh-huh. Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re gods. I mean, how old are you guys again?”

“Point taken,” Loki conceded on both their behalf. “How long does the TemPad take to charge, then?”

“Depends on how drained it is,” Mobius says, turning his attention back to the displayed file. “It’s charging all the time, so as long as you’re not opening up Time-Doors left, right, and center, it usually has enough power that you don’t even have to think about it. If you somehow do drain the power enough that it’s nearly empty then… from ‘His’ experiments, it seems it takes a day or so to get it back to full power.”

“Experiments?” Sylvie picked up on the word. “What kind of experiments?”

“Well, ‘He’ didn’t always spend his time behind a desk organizing the strands of time. Before he created us, it was just him out there -- jumping from timeline to timeline, trying to bring some semblance of peace and order to the chaos.”

“About that–,” Loki interjected. “–The whole ‘jumping from timeline to timeline’ thing... Did ‘He’ jump between those timelines randomly?”

“Uh…” Mobius turned back to his TemPad, scrolling through the block of information it displayed. “Seems like it, for the most part.”

“So there’s no way to select a specific timeline?” Loki asked, casting Sylvie a down-trodden look. “No way to find a specific timeline?”

“We weren’t exactly designed for that,” Mobius replied, flicking away the information on his TemPad. With a few more presses of his fingers, the screen of his TemPad displayed a diagram of the sacred timeline -- if it could even be called that anymore. What he showed them more closely resembled a plate of spaghetti than the single straight line of the timeline. “See this right here? This is exactly what we were supposed to stop. We weren’t meant to travel between timelines, because the very existence of another timeline outside ours means we failed at our jobs.”

“But that’s what it was like before the TVA was created,” Sylvie pointed out. “Somewhere in there is the timeline we came from. We just need to find it again and travel back to it.”

“What for?” Mobius asks. “Why’s your timeline so important?”

“It’s the sacred timeline,” Sylvie answered, quickly continuing when Mobius opened his mouth to argue. “Yeah, I know, your timeline was also the sacred timeline, but it wasn’t until me killing ‘Him’ created all these different timelines.”

“Okay, sure-,” Mobius said with a nod. “That still doesn’t explain why you want to go back to that timeline. You killed that version of ‘Him’ in that timeline, didn’t you? Why else do you need to go back?”

“Because that timeline contains a few people that could be useful in defeating the other versions of ‘Him’,” Loki answers. 

“And… how do you know that?”

“Because they were the only versions of themselves that were able to kill another mad ruler,” Sylvie says, glancing at Loki with her face softened in pity. “The only being who was destined – and able – to kill us…”

“Oh…” Mobius cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure whether to continue scrolling through his TemPad or keep talking. “Uh… I don’t know if this is inconsiderate of me to say, but… maybe it would be worth getting that guy to join your team? Since he was able to kill you, maybe they could-,”

“No.” Loki didn’t even need to give a reason why he was against that idea. The tone behind that one word said more than any explanation he could give. 

“Fair enough, scratch that idea-,” Mobius made the smart move and returned his attention to his TemPad. “Selecting certain timelines, selecting certain timelines… Ah, here we go! Seems it’s… huh.”

“What? What’s huh?” Sylvie asked. 

“There is a way to select a specific timeline. Kind of,” Mobius answered, standing from his chair and making his way around his desk to them. “Could you hold up the TemPad for me?”

Sylvie did as Mobius asked, holding out her arm in front of her so the TemPad was on display. 

“You remember what I said about the TemPad making a connection with the user?” Mobius asked, getting nods from them in return. “Well, the connection goes deeper than that. So much so that… only the person who has been designated as the leader of the TVA can use it.”

“What?” Sylvie splutters. “I’m not the leader of the TVA-,”

“Tell that to the TemPad,” Mobius returned. 

“Sylvie… I think he might be right,” Loki said, getting Sylvie to snap her head towards him. “He wanted us to rule the TVA, remember? Someone to take over his job. He offered us the position, took off the TemPad, and then-,”

“But I didn’t accept it!” Sylvie argued, looking more and more horrified with every passing second. “I just-”

“Took the TemPad,” Loki cut her off, filling in what she was about to say. 

“Far as the TemPad is concerned, you’re the leader now,” Mobius told her. “You see those gold lines running across the surface?” 

“Yes, but what’s that got do with anythi—”

“They’re not just for design,” Mobius answered before Sylvie could finish. “Those lines? They’re actually timelines.”

Sylvie blinked in surprise, glancing first over to Loki, then down to the TemPad. 

“You see, ‘He Who Remains’ wanted to make sure he could return to his timeline whenever he needed to,” Mobius continued, nodding to the TemPad. “Mostly to make sure none of the other variants of him were wreaking havoc on his timeline, but also… just to return home, I guess. Do me a favor and run your hand along its surface, would you?”

Sylvie shot Mobius a curious look, but did as he asked anyway. The surface of the TemPad shifted, the squiggly lines running along its surface passing by in a blur of movement. Then, it seemed to settle on a certain design, displaying the usual bright gold line with branches coming off of it. 

“That right there?” Mobius began, looking between the two of them, and then down to the TemPad. “That’s your timeline, Sylvie.”

Sylvie’s head shot up at that, feeling her heart clench at his words. It was… it was impossible. Her timeline didn’t exist anymore. Judge Renslayer and her Minute-Men had made sure of that. 

“Now see, if I try and select a timeline-,” 

Mobius’s hand moved towards the TemPad, and almost on instinct did Sylvie pull it away from him, holding it protectively to her body. Mobius let out an exasperated sigh at the defensive action, dropping his hands back to his sides and shoving them into his pockets. “Really? Isn’t trust supposed to be a two-way system?”

“From what I’ve heard,” Sylvie said as Loki unconsciously tried to move closer to her. He had done this a few times before, and this time, she found herself moving closer to him, too. “Not sure your argument works when you clearly don’t trust us, either.”

“Can you blame me?” Mobius asked, getting you a genuine huff of laughter from Sylvie. 

“No. If anything, I respect you for it,” Sylvie said. 

“Good form of self-preservation, really,” Loki added. 

“Fine. I won’t touch it.” Mobius turned around on the spot, strolling back over to his side of the desk. “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“What would have happened?” Even if Sylvie didn’t want Mobius to touch it, that wasn’t to say that she wasn’t curious as to what he was trying to show her. 

“Nothing,” Mobius answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have responded to me -- because I’m not its owner.”

“But… why would He have just given it up like that?” Sylvie asked. “I hadn’t agreed to anything yet.”

“‘What’s the worst that could happen,’“ Loki mimicked He Who Remains’s words. “Either we took over, or an infinite amount of Him manifests into existence and fights to get back to where He was. No matter what option came to be, he no longer needed that TemPad.”

“Still seems strange to me that he just… gave you the TemPad,” Mobius thought out loud, placing his hands on the desk and resting his weight on it. “That is what I saw, right? He just… took it off and slid it across the desk to you.”

“Yeah… He did,” Sylvie’s face pinched into a frown, slowly looking up to Loki. “Loki, did you ever notice how… he seemed almost excited at the idea of me killing him?”

Loki mirrors her frown, thinking back to what felt like a lifetime ago now. “In what way?” 

“He was looking at you guys kinda funny during your big fight,” Mobius said, drumming his fingers across the desk. 

“Was he?” Loki asks. “I was a little too distracted at the time to notice.”

“He even looked strangely invested when you guys, uh…” Mobius trailed off awkwardly, hoping they would fill in the blanks for themselves. When Loki and Sylvie only stared blankly back at him, he hung his head with a dejected sigh. “Oh, for the love of… When you kissed, for god's sake…”

“Oh…” Loki was surprised to feel the flush of heat to his face. “Again, a little distracted -- which, I think was your plan.” Loki cast Sylvie an annoyed look at that last part.

“Already said I’m sorry–”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah -- how about we move on from that.” Mobius hurried them past the miniature bickering session that was likely to start. “Or… no wait, let’s go back to that.”

Loki and Sylvie looked to each other at the same time, like they were somehow able to communicate through eye contact alone. “Let’s go back to… us arguing?” Sylvie wanted to clarify. 

“Yes! But, no, don’t actually argue—” Mobius somehow made this all the more confusing. “What was it that He said to you guys? Something about trust, or… being unable to trust—”

“He asked me if I could trust Loki.” Sylvie, of course, remembered this. She knew she’d never forget. “And… if I could trust anyone at all."

Mobius nodded to himself, staring down at his feet as he thought. “Why would he say that? If he wanted you to work together, to lead the TVA together, then… why would he plant those doubts in your head?”

“It almost seems like he was trying to get us to fight,” Loki said to Sylvie. “Maybe… he never really wanted us to take over.”

“You think he wanted to die?”

“I think he wanted to be reborn,” Loki corrected Sylvie. “I don’t think he was just tired; I think he was bored. After countless years of writing everyone’s stories – himself included – I think… I think he wanted you to open up the multiverse, to live an infinite amount of lives outside of his own script.”

Sylvie shook her head with a bitter laugh, her lip curling in disgust as she looked down to His former TemPad. “My whole life, I only had the thought of watching His life drain away to get me through the day… And now, it turns out I did what he always wanted, anyway.”

Sylvie reached out a hand towards the TemPad, the glow of its timelines reflecting in her shining eyes. She ran a finger softly across the timeline – her timeline – watching as the TemPad slowly moves with her finger, displaying the different branches that come off of her timeline. 

“Is this really my timeline?” Sylvie doesn’t look away from the TemPad. 

“It’s what the files say,” Mobius tells her. 

“How is that possible?” Sylvie tears her eyes away, looking up to Mobius. “My timeline was pruned.”

“Exactly. It was pruned,” Mobius says. “But now we have this whole mess of branches, forming into a whole mess of timelines.”

“So?”

“So, somewhere out there is a timeline where you were never picked up by us,” said Mobius, looking pointedly to Sylvie’s TemPad. “Oh, right -- it’s that timeline right there.”

“A timeline where the TVA never interfered…” Loki says in wonderment, turning wide eyes towards Sylvie. “Your timeline never would have been pruned…”

“My family…” Sylvie whispers, finding herself frozen in shock. “My home… my life…”

“So… we’re on Sylvie’s timeline now?” Loki asks Mobius. “How would that work when we, apparently, don’t exist…?”

“This isn’t Sylvie’s timeline,” Mobius said, scooping up the TemPad he left laying on his desk and tucking it into his jacket. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. When you grabbed the TemPad and opened a door here, it should have opened up into a TVA on your timeline. But… it didn’t.” 

Mobius took a seat on the edge of his desk – despite the perfectly fine chair right there in front of him – crossing his arms against his chest with his back partly turned to them. “What were you doing whilst you were opening the Time-Door? Was there any interference?”

“Oh, um…” Sylvie glanced awkwardly to Loki, whose raised questioning eyebrow quickly dropped into a look of realization at her pointed look. 

“Ah…” Loki drawled out slowly, scratching at the back of his head. “Would us, uh… touching be classified as ‘interference?’” 

“Oh, you were–” Mobius cut himself off with a burst of laughter, slapping at his knee. “You opened up that Time-Door whilst you were kissing, didn’t you? That explains it…”

“Does it? Feel free to pass on that explanation to us -- you know, if you feel like it.” Sylvie didn’t appreciate being the recipient of Mobius’s ridicule. 

“The TemPad was trying to open up the Time-Door to your specific timeline. Problem is… it didn’t know which one of you to focus on. Can’t open one door into two separate timelines, so, it had to compromise. Instead of opening up a Time-Door into either one of your timelines…”

“It opened up into one where we don’t exist.” Loki guessed correctly. 

“You both canceled each other out,” Mobius tacked on. 

“And what about the others?” Sylvie asked.

“The other… what’s?”

“The Apocalypses we jumped to,” Sylvie clarified. “Were they… were they my timeline?”

“If it was just you touching the TemPad? Then yeah, it would have been your timeline.”

“That must have been why it was different,” Loki said in realization. “Those attackers… they came earlier than they were supposed to, didn’t they?”

“One small change can lead to a whole ton of butterfly effects.” Mobius slowly made his way to the side of the desk, sliding the drawer closed as he went. “Some of those changes can be small, like… like someone speaking one word on one day differently. And then the other changes…”

“Can breed a multi-verse ending conqueror,” Loki finished grimly, getting a shrug of agreement from Mobius. 

“So… we know we can get to my timeline. Is that the only way we can select a specific timeline?”

“Right, the uh, the other sacred timeline,” Mobius mumbled, scratching at the back of his head as he thought. “Well… you came from that one, right? You made a connection between that timeline to this timeline when you shoved Loki through that Time-Door.”

“But we’ve moved on since then,” Loki pointed out. “If Sylvie touches the TemPad, it’ll display her timeline, won’t it?”

“If that’s the one you select, sure. But–”

“But the TemPad saves previously opened Time-Doors.” Sylvie already knew where Mobius was going with this. “That’s how we got here in the first place. I opened up a Time-Door I had already opened before, back in the Citadel.”

“Which is the timeline currently on display,” Mobius said. “All you’ve gotta do is follow that timeline back… and it’ll connect to the timeline you came from.”

“Hang on…” Loki turned his attention back to Sylvie, his brow furrowing in thought. “What about my timeline? Would… would that have been re-created too?”

Sylvie placed a comforting hand on his arm, giving his bicep a kind squeeze with an understanding smile. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Loki looked genuinely taken aback as she unwound the TemPad from her hand. For a moment, she simply stood and held this greatly powerful device in her hands. She kept her eyes locked with his, a note of understanding passing between them as she slowly held out the TemPad for him to take. 

Loki didn’t take it. Not right away. “It might not work. Not just because my timeline might still remain erased, but… what if the TemPad can’t have two owners?”

“’He Who Remains’ made it clear he wanted both of us to rule.” Sylvie pushed the TemPad into his chest. She grabbed hold of his hand, pulling it up to the TemPad and curling his fingers around it. “Besides… we might be two separate beings, but our souls exist as one and the same. If it works for me? Then I know it’ll work for you, too.”

“You are very confident,” Loki noted with a small smile, his weak grip on the TemPad strengthening as he finally took the TemPad from her. 

Loki couldn’t bring himself to look at the TemPad as he slid it onto his hand, experimentally flexing his fingers to get used to the feeling of the cylindrical object sat atop his hand. Sylvie nodded at him in encouragement when his eyes landed on her, letting her hand slip away from his arm to make sure they were no longer touching. 

Loki finally dropped his eyes down to the TemPad. Sylvie’s timeline continued to blink up at him, just waiting for its new owner to press his touch into its surface. Loki let his hand hover over the TemPad, a moment of shaky hesitation passing before he swiped his finger across the flat surface of the TemPad. 

In the blink of an eye, the surface began to change. Billions upon billions of timelines flashed before his eyes as the TemPad searched for his timeline, and for one heart-stopping moment, Loki wondered if it would simply be searching forever, his timeline removed from all of existence. 

And then it stopped. It stopped, and Loki and Sylvie could only stand and stare at the brilliantly gold streak of lightning that stared back at them. Right there was Loki’s timeline. Right there was a universe where none of this had ever happened -- an unlimited expanse of possibilities his life could have taken.

And that’s when Mobius held the pruning stick to Sylvie’s neck. 

Loki knew it was foolish of him to let his guard down, even if in the presence of – who he supposed – was a friend. But it wasn’t his friend. This Mobius might have been witness to the events that led to their friendship, but he didn’t experience them. And that was made all the difference, it seemed. 

One second, Sylvie was right there next to him, looking at the TemPad just as he was. The next, she was just… gone. Loki’s head snapped up in a daze, taking in the sight of Sylvie struggling vehemently as Mobius wrapped an arm around her neck, keeping her pinned to him as he held the glowing end of the pruning stick much too close to Sylvie for either of their comfort. 

Sylvie looked more pissed at herself than she did at Mobius. Just like Loki, she had made the foolish mistake of letting her guard down. The entire time she had been here, she had every possible guard up and alert, just waiting for the moment this all went to shit. And then… and then Mobius had told her that somewhere out there is the family she knows, the family she never got to grow up with, and she had stupidly returned back to the state of that little princess of Asgard who had no reason not to trust anyone. 

“Don’t struggle.” Mobius’s words did not come out as a command. Not that he wanted them to sound like it. It was more a word of advice than anything. “I don’t want to accidentally catch you with this thing.”

“Then why are you holding it to my neck?” Sylvie forced out through gritted teeth, continuing to struggle despite Mobius’s warning. She kept her gaze focused on the pruning stick Mobius had snuck out of his desk drawer, her hands dug into the arm around her neck, tugging uselessly at them to get his hold to loosen. Except, every defiant pull to his arm only resulted in the pressure against her neck tightening, coming dangerously close to cutting off her air supply. 

“Mobius, what are you doing?” Loki spluttered out, yanking out his dagger from his jacket pocket in a flash of metal. 

“What I have to.” Mobius took a cautious step back away from Loki, dragging a very uncooperative Sylvie with him. “And don’t you think about going for that sword, Sylvie. The moment I feel your arms move anywhere down, I’ll prune you before you can even come close to touching it.”

Sylvie laughed mockingly at that. Loki stood in a battle-ready stance, looking very much not amused by Mobius’s words as Sylvie had. “You’re not used to the whole ‘threatening demeanor’ thing, are you?” Sylvie goaded him. 

“I’ll admit it’s not my forte.” Mobius carefully maneuvered himself back around the desk, placing it between him and Loki. Loki slowly moved forward with him, coming to a stop just in front of the desk. “Especially when I don’t want to be doing this.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Loki hoped his pleading tone would get through to Mobius in some sort of way. 

“Because it’s my job,” Mobius forced out the words with as much authority as he could muster. 

“You’ve seen the truth!” Sylvie grunted, still fighting against Mobius’s hold. “You know what He did to you! To all of us!”

“That doesn’t change the importance of my work.” Mobius’s words make the weight in Loki’s chest sink heavier. “Or the importance of His work. I agree with you that this whole thing ends with Him; I just don’t agree with your method. I think… I know that the strands of time are only safe in His hands. Only He can untangle and sort out those strands and ensure the timeline runs through to the end without any problems.”

“Mobius, no–” Loki desperately hoped he could get through to him. “If that was the case, then we wouldn’t be right here, would we? You wouldn’t have existed if that was the case. Sylvie and I wouldn’t exist. But that’s what's happened, whether by His deciding or not. If we just sit back and let him rise to power once more… what’s to stop this from happening all over again?”

“And what if your version of Him isn’t the one that comes out on top?” Sylvie asks Mobius, lessening her struggles now that Mobius held the pruning stick even closer, buzzing away mere inches from her face. “Somewhere out there is a variant of him that isn’t interested in pruning the other timelines. Instead, he only wants to rule over them all.”

“It’s up to Him to decide what we’ll do about that,” Mobius replied, much to Loki’s dismay. 

Mobius sighed lightly, ducking his head with his eyes clenched shut. “Please, just… do as I say. I meant it when I said I don’t want to be doing this. I think… I think you guys could be of some help to us–”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Sylvie groaned. “You’re trying to recruit us now?”

“Not right now,” Mobius corrected her. “I know you won't right now in this moment. But… you’ll see. You’ll see that this is the only way. Now, please, if you’d just… hand over the TemPad. I promise we won’t reset you, or put you in a time-loop -- nothing like that.”

“Mobius–” Loki tried again, only to be cut off by the man in question.

“It won't be long before someone comes into this office. I can’t guarantee they won't do something drastic if they come in and see you like that with your weapons. But if you come cooperatively–”

“We’ll be slaves to the TVA, just as you are?” Sylvie asks, voice soaked in disgust. “No thanks -- I’d rather take my chances with the pruning stick.”

“Yeah… yeah, that’s a good point,” Mobius mumbled, much to Loki and Sylvie’s confusion. “You… you voluntarily pruned yourself, didn’t you? The both of you were pruned, and you made it out…”

“We did,” Loki confirmed, taking a single step closer, feeling the wooden panel of Mobius’s desk pressing into his knees. “And we both took down the creature He himself tamed and weaponized to devour timelines whole.”

“In other words… do it,” Sylvie spat at Mobius, giving one last attempt at breaking free that yields no results. “You know as well as we do that that’s not a threat to us. Not really.”

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Mobius agreed. Seeing Mobius deactivate the pruning stick briefly filled Loki with a surge of hope, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they had found a way to deescalate the situation. That hope prompted surged out of him, however, as Mobius flipped the pruning stick around in his hand, now holding the pointed, sharp spear end of the stick against Sylvie’s neck. “You might be able to escape pruning… but can you come back from a blade in your throat?”

No. No, they could not. 

“Mobius, please,” Loki begged one more time, holding out a dagger in front of him. “Stop this. You’ve seen reason, I know you have. I don’t want to do this as much as you don’t–”

“Then just hand over the TemPad,” Mobius said like it was a no-brainer decision. Loki felt his muscles coil in anticipation as the very tip of the spear pierced Sylvie’s flesh, clenching his jaw hard when he saw the small trickle of blood slip down her neck. He had to make a decision–

“You know your magic doesn’t work here,” Mobius reminded him with an almost pitiful expression. “This is it, Loki. No more tricks from the trickster.”

Loki decided. 

“No. There’s no magic,” Loki agreed, holding out his dagger like he was about to drop it in surrender. 

Loki dropped his hand down in a flash, connecting with the surface of the TemPad, just as he had seen He Who Remains do back in the Citadel. Mobius blinked, and then Loki was gone. He startled, not even having time to ponder over what had happened before Loki blinked back into existence behind him – not that he could see – and slid the dagger he held in his hand right in the small of his back. Mobius jolted at the searing pain that erupted from his back, barely able to get out a gasp of pain as his body locked up. 

“–But I still have your technology,” Loki completed the rest of his sentence before yanking the dagger out from Mobius’s back. 

Sylvie took advantage of the slackening of Mobius’s grip, forcing an elbow back hard into the side of his ribs. Mobius had completely let go at this point, but she still spun around on the spot, bringing up her leg and kicking Mobius hard in the chest. Mobius went down without much resistance, slamming into the wall behind him with a pained grunt. He slid down to the floor, leaving behind a trail of red against the wall as he went.

“Huh…” Mobius’s eyes were unfocused, staring blankly to the ground in front of him. “You know, I… I could have sworn I heard you said to that other me that… that you were done stabbing people in the back.”

Mobius dredged up just enough energy to raise his eyes up, meeting Loki’s agonized ones. There was… nothing in his eyes. No blame, no hatred, no fear. But… there was nothing good there, either. No forgiveness, no kindness he’s seen from Mobius plenty of times before. It was just… blank. He was blank. 

One second, Loki's staring at a man whose heart was still pumping, whose blood still circulated around his body. Then, he was actually able to see the moment the life drained away from him, like a candle being blown out. Any semblance of the man he knows disappears from Mobius’s eyes, his head dropping down to his chest before he slowly slumps down to the ground, staring without seeing. 

The weight of the dagger in Loki’s hands had never felt as heavy as it had before. His shaking hands lift the dagger up, the buzzing fluorescent lights of Mobius’s office reflecting off the shining surface of the blade. The dagger had served its purpose, had done what it was designed to do. And yet, as Loki stared down at the offending item and took in the sight of Mobius’s blood coating the once perfectly clean metal, he wanted nothing more than to cast it into the eternal flame and watch it melt into nothing.

How many times had he done exactly this? He was far from inexperienced in battle, and far from inexperienced in hurting those he cares about for his own gain. So why, this time, did he feel the burn of bile in the back of his throat? Why, this time, did his hands shake so hard that he let his trusted weapons drop to the ground? Why, this time, did he find himself stumbling down to the ground, breaths coming short and fast as he stared at the corpse of the only friend he’s truly ever known?

“Loki…” Sylvie’s voice sounded far away and muted, as if they were underwater. In the back of his mind, he registers that she’s moved in front of him, blocking him from seeing Mobius’s corpse. Her concerned face fills his vision, blurry as if his eyes were filled with tears. Wait… were they? It would certainly explain the stinging sensation he felt in them, and the wetness he could feel rolling down his face. 

Her hands cup his face, desperately trying to bring him back to himself. Just like Mobius, his eyes had gone scarily blank. “Loki, it’s not your fault. It’s not, okay? That’s… that wasn’t him. That wasn’t Mobius -- not really.”

Something flickers back to life in his eyes. They shift around, searching across her face as if he was finally seeing her here, still with him, sat right in front of him. He swallows hard, his gaze drifting to where he knows Mobius’s corpse lies behind her. 

“I know.” Simply hearing Loki speak out loud helped to lessen some of the fear that had been constricting her chest. “But… it also is.”

Sylvie didn’t even know what she could say right now that would be of any comfort to him. She had never really had to comfort someone before, or had someone comfort her. Except… well, she supposed that Loki had attempted to comfort her a few times: back on Lamentis when it seemed like the end of the line; or in ‘The Time-Keeper’s chambers when they realized the Time Keepers weren’t real. But then, even if she did know how to go about comforting him, this certainly wasn’t the place to do it. Not with Mobius’s body sat right there behind her, and not in a place where they could be locked up at any moment. 

Sylvie turns her head towards the office door, just waiting for the sounds of rushing footsteps to echo down the hall. A part of her thinks it would almost be better than the silence they found themselves in -- apart from the repetitive tick of the clock hung in the top middle section of the wall Mobius was slumped by.

She needed to get Loki out of here. She didn’t care where, or what timeline it was, it just had to be not here. Sylvie brushed her thumb tenderly across Loki’s cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that clung to his skin. She dropped her hands away from his face, turning to Mobius’s body with a grimace. Avoiding looking the corpse in the eye, she reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the TemPad he had stored in there, trying her best not to disturb his body too much. 

“Sorry, Mobius,” Sylvie whispers as she moves away from his body, casting him one last regretful look before straightening herself into a stand. The TemPad in her hands was at least familiar, and yet… it felt wrong to use, now. Shaking her head, she flipped open the screen to the TemPad, letting out a breath of relief that it was fully charged. She entered in the information for the Time-Door without much of a thought, its manifestation enough to force Loki’s gaze away from Mobius’s body. 

“We need to go,” Sylvie reaches out a hand towards Loki, grateful that his eyes follow the movement of her hand instead of settling back on Mobius. Loki nods, hesitating for a moment before he picks his dagger back up from the ground. His TemPad clad hand clasps onto Sylvie’s, taking her offered help as she pulls him up to his feet. She doesn’t let go of his hand, even when he’s stood back on his feet, and when Loki squeezes her hand in thanks, she knows she's made the right decision. 

“Don’t look.” Sylvie moves in front of him, forcing his eyes onto her. Loki does as she asks, forcing everything in his vision apart from her to go blurry and out of focus. Sylvie slowly starts walking back towards the Time-Door, pulling Loki with her as she goes. 

What Loki and Sylvie didn’t know was that, after they stepped through that Time-Door, someone did come into Mobius’s office. But it wasn’t just a group of Minute-Men. Nor was it Judge Whittle. 

Deep purple robes brushed against the floor as the figure stepped into the room, calculated dark eyes scanning across the room before falling on Mobius. The man sighed, more in irritation at not having caught the intruders red-handed than in the sadness he should have felt for having lost such a devoted worker. 

“They found their way in,” The man calls out to the security detail stood post next to the door. “Get someone to retrieve this body once I’ve looked over it. We need to check for any cross-contamination.”

The man waited until one of the security detail had hurried off to carry out his orders before stepping further into the room. He strode over to Mobius’s body, crouching down onto one knee with his head tilted to the side as he looked him up and down. He reached out, grabbing Mobius’s arm and rolling him over onto his stomach. Immediately, he took sight of the dark patch of red soaked into the back of Mobius’s jacket. With careful hands, he pried the jacket off of the body, followed shortly by the now stained white button-up shirt. 

The man clicked his tongue, resting an arm on his knee as he looked to the open wound that had been carved into the center of Mobius’s back. There’s a tentative knock to the office door he had closed behind him, looking over to it as it swings open. The Minute-Men he had requested filed into the room, standing at attention and ready for orders. 

“You—” He points to one of the Minute Men in line, who somehow manages to stand straighter now he had been singled out. “—Come here.”

Obediently, the Minute Man hurries over to the man, nervous eyes fixed dead-ahead as he waits for further orders. 

“I want you… to take a look at the wound,” The man instructs him, folding his hands behind his back and nodding his head towards Mobius’s body. “Look at the shape of it… the size of it. Do you recognize the weapon that inflicted it?”

“Um….” The Minute Man stammers out, voice trembling with nerves as he kneels down by Mobius’s body to take a closer look at the wound. “It… it seems like a small blade, Sir.”

“Hmm… I’d have to agree with you on that one.” The man places a hand on the Minute Man’s shoulder in what should have been a comforting gesture, but was far from it. “A small blade, expertly wielded, by someone who is… intimately familiar with the weapon in question. And… considering the placement of the wound, I’d have to say familiar with this analyst, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I suppose so, Sir.”

“You suppose? Okay, well, I’ll give you my final theory.” The man’s grip on his shoulder tightens, feeling the trembling of the Minute-Man underneath his hands. “I think… the damage done here was by a dagger. Do you know what that means?”

The Minute Man remained frozen under his hands, wisely letting the man monologue away instead of actually answering. 

“It means it’s them. It means that they’re finally starting to make a move… It means that what I saw, and what I heard, was true. It means… it won't be long before they start hunting down me.”

Next Chapter - - - >

[justcallmefox89]

Truth or Dare Part 2

It’s Arianthi’s birthday and Diavolo has decreed she can have anything the Devildom can provide.  She requests a slumber party at the House of Lamentation; her, the brothers, the angels, Solomon, Diavolo, and Barbatos.  Jealousy flares between two party guests and Arianthi is the recipient of an intriguing proposition.   

Written from the perspective of my female MC, Arianthi.  

Some minor NSFW content and a little bit of feel good fluff - things every good sleepover should have.

I’m adding a different mood playlist to each installment of this series, just songs that I listened to while writing and feel embody each part of the story.

Jonathan Young (cover) - Every Time We Touch

Max - Puppeteer

The Struts - One Night Only

Tommee Profitt ft. Brooke - Can’t Help Falling in Love (light version, cover)

Allen Stone - Consider Me (Diavolo’s song in this installment)

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Asmo and I make our way to the living room, hand in hand, giggling and whispering.  Mammon is the first one to spot us.

“Oi! Asmo get your hands off Arianthi!”  He inserts himself in between us, breaking our hold on each other.  He catches sight of my outfit and turns red to the tips of his ears.

“W-w-what are you wearing?  You can’t be wearing stuff like that in front of all these guys!”

I sneak a sly smile to Asmo and he winks back.  

“Why not Mammon?  Don’t you like it?  It is a sleepover after all, I’m supposed to be wearing pajamas.”  I trace my fingers delicately over his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.  

Mammon’s eyes remain firmly on the floor.

“I like it you stupid human,” he mutters.  “But I’m your FIRST man, why are you showing of like that in front of these guys?”  

The question comes off as a needy whine and I give an internal sigh.

Mammon likes me.  I know he does.  He knows I know he does.  But he hasn’t made a move and continually insists he couldn’t care less about me while simultaneously attempting to jealously guard me from anyone else.  

Something’s going to give eventually.  One way or another.  

I grab Mammon’s hand.  “Well then as my first man you’ll just have to keep me safe if the others get naughty, huh?  You’re so strong, I know you can protect me from anything.”

Mammon raises his head, a confident smirk returning to his face.  “Yeah?  I mean yeah, you can count on THE great Mammon to keep you safe.  You’re MY human after all.”

Asmo giggles.  “So now that Mammon’s insecurities have been sufficiently addressed can I please show Arianthi off to the rest of her guests?”

“Yeah but I’m staying right beside her,” Mammon says gruffly, gripping my hand tightly.  

“Whatever.”  Asmo rolls his eyes and grabs my other hand, dragging me even further into the living room.  “Birthday girl is finally here!”

Simeon gasps, and immediately moves to cover Luke’s eyes as he lays his eyes on my sleepover outfit.  

I bite my lower lip and give him a wink.  “Hi Simeon!  Ready for the party?”

He nods wordlessly, cheeks blazing.

Solomon silently salutes me with a glass of Demonus, eyes greedily roving up and down my legs and over my breasts, a knowing smile on his face.  I suck in a breath and fight against the urge to blush.  

Solomon will not get to me, Solomon will not get to me.  That one hook up at the beginning of the year meant nothing.

Fortunately I’m saved as Diavolo scoops me up into a giant hug.  “Happy birthday Arianthi!”

I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze back.

“Thank you Diavolo. And thanks for talking Lucifer into having this slumber party.”

Diavolo gently sets me back down, Mammon glaring at him silently.  

“Of course!  A real human sleepover?!  I couldn’t resist, especially since I was invited.”  He gives me a boyish grin.

Barbatos appears silently at his side, a small velvet box in his hand.  

“Happy birthday Arianthi.”  He gives me a small nod and presses the box into my hands.  “Lord Diavolo and I thought this would be a wonderful gift and reminder of your birthday in the Devildom.

“Thank you so much!”  I carefully open the small box, and gasp when I see the delicate silver ring nestled in the satin lining.  A large green stone gleams in the ring’s setting.  

“Oh it’s beautiful!”  I gasp as I slip it on the ring finger of my right hand.  The stone flashes in the light, sparking green and captivating me.  “Thank you so much you two!”

“That’s a rare Devildom emerald,” Diavolo says, eyes shining with affection.  “Once I saw it would perfectly match your eyes I knew you it had to be yours.”

I lay a hand on Diavolo’s arm.  “You are so sweet Diavolo.  Thank you so much.”

Mammon jerks my hand roughly.  “Let’s go say hi to everyone else.”  

I throw a wave over my shoulder as we walk away. “I’ll talk to you guys later, ok?”

“She seems to like the gift my lord,” Barbatos says quietly.

“That she does,” Diavolo answers with a soft smile on his face, never taking his eyes off Arianthi as she flits around the room.

Barbatos hesitates for a moment, carefully choosing his words.  “You seem quite taken with her sir.”

“I suppose I am,” Diavolo agrees.  “I’ve never met anyone quite like her before.”

“You’ll miss her when she returns to the human realm,” Barbatos states matter-of-factly.

“If she returns to the human realm,” Diavolo answers softly.

Barbatos looks at the prince in shock.

Diavolo laughs.  “I wouldn’t force her to stay Barbatos.  But that doesn’t mean I won’t try everything I can to make sure she stays here.  By my side.”

“I imagine the brothers would have quite a lot to say about that,” Barbatos murmurs, too low for his lord to hear.

We go talk to Satan and Lucifer next, Asmo having abandoned us to go flirt with Solomon.  We find them next to the snack table.  Lucifer takes one look at my outfit and exhales loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

“I’m not certain that’s entirely appropriate attire,” he says, eyes grazing across my body.  

“What are you, the sleepover police?  Besides, Asmo picked it out just for me!”  I answer impishly, reaching out to boop his nose.  “It’s alright if you like it, nobody would hold it against you for being inappropriate once in a while.”

He looks as me in shock while Satan snickers into his drink, and Mammon growls low in his throat, pulling me tighter to his side.  “Don’t be getting no ideas about Arianthi.”

Satan reaches out to lightly flick one of my cat ears, a teasing smile on his lips.  “I think Asmo did a wonderful job.  You look quite.......tempting tonight.”

“Oi!  What’d I just say?” Mammon asks in exasperation.  

Satan narrows his eyes.

Before a fight can erupt Lucifer smoothly intervenes, a bottle of liquor in each hand.  “In honor of your birthday I was able to procure some tequila.  Belphie tells me it’s your favorite.  I thought it would be a nice reminder of home.”

“Thank you Lucifer.  That’s incredibly thoughtful of you,” I say, smiling at him gratefully.

He returns my smile with a soft one of his own.  “A drink then?”

“Please.”  I nod.  Mammon is fairly vibrating with irritation next to me, so I softly squeeze his hand.  He relaxes somewhat. 

My greedy demon.  What’s it going to take for you to admit that you’re greedy for me?

As Lucifer turns to make my drink I’m able to get my first full look at the snack table.

“Satan!  Did you make all this?” I exclaim with glee.  Human world pizza, nachos, cheeseburgers and a birthday cake sit alongside some of my favorite Devildom delicacies.  

He gives me a casual shrug.  “Luke helped a little, and Belphie helped until he fell asleep.  Beel tried his best too.”

I rush forward to give him a thank you hug.  “This was really nice of you Satan.  You’re amazing.”

“Hey!”  Mammon interrupted.  “I helped keep Beel from eating everything like you told me to!”  

Satan rolls his eyes as I lean against Mammon’s side.

“You’re amazing too Mammon.  I knew you could do it,” I murmur.

I feel Mammon puff up with pride before he’s yanked away and I’m tightly sandwiched between the twins.

“Happy birthday!”  They say at the same time.

“Mmmmm, I like this outfit Arianthi.  I want to sit by you while we watch movies,” Belphie says, cuddling into my side.

“Can we eat now?”  Beel asks eagerly, eyeing the snacks hungrily but waiting for my permission.

“Yes to cuddling and yes to snacks!”  

I hear Mammon give a groan of exasperation behind us.

“Come on guys!  I’m starting the first movie!”  Levi calls.

“Ohh what did you pick?” I ask as Lucifer hands me my drink.

“10 Things I Hate About You.”

“Best.  Choice.  Ever.”  Levi and I grin at each other.

We all take a few moments to gather snacks and refresh our drinks, before settling into watch the movie.  Levi lowers the lights and presses play.  I end up on the couch between Belphie and Beel, Mammon settled on the floor between my legs.

Belphie cuddles into my side, his head on my lap, cheek flush again the silk of my robe.  He’s asleep moments into the movie.  Beel shares his snacks and I run my hands through Mammon’s hair, the white strands slipping through my fingers like silk.  In a rare moment of bravery he nuzzles his face into my thigh, dropping a few feather light kisses short of where I want to feel his mouth the most.  I strangle a moan and take a sip of my drink.  

Thank god Lucifer has a heavy hand with the tequila.  

I twitch a little, desperately trying to ignore the growing warmth and wetness between my thighs.

I hear Mammon sniffle quietly at one of the more poignant moments of the movie and I run my hands soothingly across the back of his neck.  

The movie is over all too soon and as Levi turns the lights back on we realize that Luke has fallen asleep in his armchair.  

“Awwwww,”  I coo over his sleeping form, brushing his blonde hair away from his forehead.  

“Heh.  The chihuahua couldn’t make it through one movie huh?”  Mammon sidles up behind me.  

Between the amount of tequila I’ve consumed, the earlier teasing kisses, and Mammon’s close proximity I feel a little dizzy.  I stumble a bit, and Mammon easily catches me.

“Oi!  You ok?” He asks, arms around my waist.

I shake my head to clear the haze of lust and booze.  “Yeah, just tripped a bit.”

“Clumsy human,” Mammon releases me, blushing.  “Almost scuffed my boots.”

Why can’t you be the bold demon who kissed my thigh during the movie all the time? 

I frown and turn back to a sleeping Luke.  

Maybe I’m reading Mammon wrong.  Maybe I should give up.

“Hey guys, Luke’s out like a light,” I call over my shoulder to the others.  “I’m going to take him up to my room so we don’t have to worry about waking him up.”  

I bend down and scoop the tiny angel into my arms.

“Arianthi I can take him up for you,” Beel offers, momentarily pulling himself away from his cheeseburger.  

“I’m her first man, I’ll help her,” Mammon steps forward to take Luke from me.

“I’ve got it Mammon, you can stay down here with your brothers,” Diavolo smoothly intercepts him.  

Mammon opens his mouth to argue, but a glare from Lucifer shuts him down. The rest of the party guests are gawping at the scene unfolding.

Diavolo holds out his arms. “I can take him from you if you want Arianthi.”

“I don’t mind,” I say, smiling down at Luke fondly.

I’m an only child, and I’ve unofficially adopted Luke as my little brother.  Taking care of him in little ways like this makes me happy.  

“Well then, let’s get him to bed so we can get you back to your party,” Diavolo says softly.

We’re barely three steps out of the living room before I can hear the furious whispering begin.

Diavolo gives me a boyish shrug.  “I guess this wasn’t a popular move on my part.”

I hum my agreement and begin to climb the stairs. Diavolo’s hand comes down to the small of my back, a steady presence that reminds me he won’t let me fall while I’m carrying Luke.  His hand is large and warm, comforting and solid.  I send him a small smile of thanks.

She looks beautiful like this, Diavolo thinks as he escorts Arianthi to her room. She looked gorgeous before, a vision of lust that threatened to consume his senses. But this, carefully carrying Luke, smiling lovingly down at him, this is pure beauty.  What would she look like carrying my children like this? 

Once we reach my bedroom Diavolo carefully opens the door and patiently waits while I tuck Luke in.  I notice him carefully inspecting the many pictures that have accumulated along one wall while I smooth the blankets over Luke.  

I bend down to give him a gentle kiss on forehead and softly whisper, “Good night.”

We slip out silently and close the door gently behind us.  

I turn to Diavolo.  “Thank you for helping me up the stairs, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he answers, flashing me his famous grin.

I turn from him to head back to the living room, but he catches my hand and gently tugs me back to him. I can feel my eyes widen in shock and he releases my hand quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Diavolo says.  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I shake my head.  “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, just a little confused.”

This is Diavolo after all.  I’ve been given overly enthusiastic hugs and the occasional pat on the head.  But this touch was different.  Gentle......almost seductive.

“Then may I hold your hand again?”  he asks softly.

I chew my lip anxiously.  Mammon.  

We’ve kissed, I’ve told him I care about him, but he’s never made his feelings fully known.  I’ve all but taken out a billboard saying I want him, but that idiotic tsundere refuses to make a move unless someone else shows an interest in me. 

I sigh.  

Diavolo.  

Right in front of me, gentle, being soft and open with me.  Surprising, yes.  But still here.  

He’s charismatic, funny, smart, handsome.........   Fuck it.

I slip my hand into his much larger one and he chuckles in delight.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about Diavolo?”  I kept my voice low, trying not to wake Luke.

Diavolo gently leads me further down the hall, away from my door where we can talk more freely.  

“I noticed you have a bunch of pictures in the room of you and the brothers.  Are you enjoying your time here in the House of Lamentation?  In the Devildom?”

I nod.  “I’m having an amazing time Diavolo, but you already know that from my reports.  I feel like there’s something else you’re wanting to ask me.”

“Always so clever,” he says, running one large finger down my cheek.  I shiver at the feeling of his skin against mine.  “I noticed that most of your pictures are of you and Mammon.”

“Lucifer did assign him to be my guardian for the duration of my stay,” I answer softly.

Diavolo makes a noise of general agreement.  “That he did.  But there are rumors that the relationship between you and Mammon has moved beyond that.  Beyond friendship even.”

I look down at the floor, debating on how to answer without sounding pathetic.  

Diavolo tips my chin up with a finger, forcing me to lock eyes with him.  What I see in those amber depths take my breath away.  Eagerness. Lust.  Uncertainty.   He gazes at me intently, waiting on my answer.

“I’m asking for personal reasons, Arianthi,” Diavolo says.  “Nothing in relation to the exchange program.  I need to know where you stand with him.  For my own sake.”

“Oh.  Oh!”  I exclaim once I process the full implication of what he’s saying.

“We’ve kissed before, but he’s never expressed an interest in a relationship.  He only seems to have any interest in me when someone else is paying attention to me.”  

I fail to keep the bitterness of my feelings from leaking into the last sentence.

Diavolo nods knowingly.  “He IS the avatar of greed.  That behavior aligns with his inherent nature.”

I stay silent.  

Diavolo gently runs his hands up and down my arms, and I relish the feeling of his strong hands through the delicate silk of my robe.  

“Arianthi, I would never force you to do something you didn’t want to.  But I would ask for a chance.  I’ve become quite........taken with you.  I would like to get to know you better.  To take you on dates.  To deepen our bond.”  He takes a deep breath.  “I’m not asking for a relationship right away, just a chance.  Will you give me that?”

I hesitate, but only for a moment.  Feeling the honesty and the depth of emotion in his words I nod.  “Yes.  I would like to get to know you better too.”

Diavolo gives me a brilliant smile.  “Really?”

“Really,” I answer with a smile of my own.

Diavolo heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”  He pauses in thought for a moment.  “Arianthi?”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?”

The blood rushes to my head.  My stomach bottoms out.  I can’t breathe, and excitement floods my veins.  

Finally.  A straightforward demon who knows what he wants.  No games. Confident in his desires.  The fact that he’s gorgeous doesn’t hurt either.

I step closer, pressing my self again him.  “Please kiss me Diavolo.”

He bends down, pressing his lips to mine.  Soft and full, they’re perfect.  I sigh in contentment.  Diavolo take the opportunity to gently tease my lips with his tongue.  I open my mouth and allow him access.  The minute his tongue touches mine a flash of heat rushes to my core.

This man just ruined these panties. 

I fully dedicate myself to Diavolo’s kiss.  I grip his jacket in my fists and press my body even closer to his, his hands coming to rest on my hips.  His tongue works mine expertly, teasing and caressing.  

I moan softly into his mouth, as his grip tightens on my hips and he rolls his hips against me.  I feel the hard length of his erection against me, and I attempt to back him against the wall.  He doesn't even budge.  I feel him smile against my lips and he suddenly lifts me, pressing against me, hands roving under my robe to caress my ass.

I wrap my legs around his waist and press a series of kisses against his neck.

“Arianthi,” Diavolo breathily moans as I snap my hips against his in an attempt to feel him again, to gain more friction.

I kiss my way across his jaw and nip at his lower lip once I reach his mouth.  His gasp of surprise allows me access to his mouth once again and I continue to explore him with my tongue.

After several minutes Diavolo slowly allows me to slide down his body, and gently releases me.  His face is flushed, his lips rosy and swollen.  He reaches over to smooth my hair back in place.  

“We need to get back to your party.  I’m sure they’re missing us by now,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

I giggle.  “Probably so.”  

He extends his hand and I take it, softly lacing our fingers together.  We leisurely make our way downstairs and towards the living room, where we hear raised voices.  

“Maybe we should go look for them.”  Beel, worried.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Satan responds.

“They’re probably more than fine.”  Asmo giggles in response.

“Shut up Asmo!”  Mammon shouts.  “She shouldn’t be alone with him for so long.  I’m going looking for her.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting Lord Diavolo would take advantage of an exchange student, are you Mammon?”  Lucifer’s tone could freeze the Devildom itself.

“We should get back in there.”  Diavolo presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand before releasing me and we both rush into the living room.

“We’re back!”  I say brightly, in an attempt to diffuse the obvious tension in the room.  

Only Solomon and Satan seem unaffected, both wearing matching sardonic, knowing smiles.

“Finally!”  Asmo exclaims, throwing his arms around me.  “We were wondering where the pair of you got off to.  I wonder if you two just got off myself, looking as flushed as......”

“Asmo!”  I can feel my cheeks reddening.  

“I expect all the details later,” he says, winking at me.  

I roll my eyes in response.  

Asmo grabs my hands.  “I have the best idea for our next sleep over activity!”

“Yeah?”  I ask, excited to hear what he has in mind.

“Since it’s a human sleepover, let’s play a human game.”  Asmo pauses dramatically.  “Let’s play truth or dare!”

My mouth falls open.  I glance around the room, taking in everyone’s reaction.

Well this is either going to end very badly or in an orgy.  Fuck it.  It’s only my birthday once a year.

“Alright Asmo, get me a drink!  Let’s play truth or dare!”

[4birds-of-a-feather]

Chapter 27 - Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight (when it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night) [part 4]

Birds Of a Feather

Today is Sara’s birthday (both the author and the fictional one!) so we decided to come out of our usual hiatus to post a silly update and let y’all know that we’re grateful to have such wonderful, loyal readers that haven’t given up on us ✨ Hope you’re gonna enjoy this!

(In the previous chapters: the game of Never Have I Ever has been intense, to say the least, and now the guests are left to go on with the party with the aftermath of thoughts and memories that the game brought up)

The game finally ended and, unsurprisingly to everyone, Elias was the undisputed winner. Nevertheless, he laughed it off, saying he just lied and avoided drinking when he could have done it because he’d rather have the others get drunk so he could make fun of them. The gang didn’t even pretend to believe his version.  They hated him more when Layla came up with the idea for the prize. Elias was already rubbing his hands, expecting a kiss or something similar, but it turned out the girl wanted to award him by revealing to him the solution to her previous game. “Sorry, Layla, but I gotta tell you, you don’t know what you just did there” Mike shook his head as she walked him by with two full glasses in her hands. “Hehe, what?” she stopped to talk to him and after an awkward couple of seconds handed him one of the drinks. She had meant to catch up with Eddie, offer him the drink, drink up her stronger one for some liquid courage, and tell him that she liked him.  But now there she was, talking to Cready, and didn’t want to seem rude, keeping the alcohol to herself. “You put a big weapon in the hands of the wrong person, that is Elias. Now the guy’s gonna go to every girl in the room and use it as a bargaining chip to get something out of it” Mike explained keeping a straight face, something that made her laugh in his face “Don’t laugh, I’m not joking!” “You’re an evil genius, how did you come up with such a plan? I bet Elias didn’t even think about that!” “Uhm, I don’t know… but I bet you didn’t think about it. Or you’d have already used it with a certain someone…” he remarked and hid his smile drinking a sip from his glass. “What the hell are you talking about, Michael? You’re drunk” Layla tried to sound dismissive but was actually smiling. “I’m talking about things, you know. Things that should be done. And if you’re gonna do things, New Year’s Eve is the night – I mean, it’s the mother of all nights, isn’t it?” “The mother of nights to do… things?” Layla asked with an arched eyebrow. “Exactly. Like, it’s New Year’s Eve! It’s a big event” “A big doing-things event” the girl nodded suspiciously. “You almost feel like you have to do things tonight” “Ok but no. This idea of having to do things... it’s kinda cliché. Isn’t New Year’s Eve just so overrated?”  “Maybe. I guess you don’t need to ring in the New Year doing things… if you actually do things during the rest of the year too. But if you don’t…” Mike didn’t finish his sentence, keeping the weird theoretical conversation on a very practical matter going.  “And what if I wanna start doing things tomorrow?” “Well, it’s almost tomorrow, so...” he shrugged and took Layla by her wrist, showing her her own watch.  “Half past eleven? Already?” Layla emptied her glass at once and handed it to Mike, then left and went around the apartment looking for someone, finally determined.  <New Year’s resolution #1: doing things> 

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Sara was quietly sipping on her fruit punch when the stereo system started to blast Lambada at full volume; after she recovered from a near death by choking, she proceeded to look for the person responsible for that atrocity. Meanwhile, around her some people had begun to dance to the tune in a totally unironical way – that made her quicken her pace. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you in charge of the mixtape!” she finally gave the culprit a push from behind “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” “I’ve been told, once or twice...” Stone gave her a lazy smile “What, you don’t approve of my musical choices?” “Fuck off” the girl started to walk away, then suddenly stopped “Oh, by the way: all these years you’ve been pulling my leg by saying I’m the shortest person you’ve ever known? Get your eyes checked, champ” she nodded in Demri’s direction while looking pointedly at him. “That’s because she doesn’t count – she’s like some kind of nymph” “Oh, wow, a nymph” Sara kept her deadpan face but seemed to stress the last word “And that makes me a…?” “... a person with dwarf ancestry, no doubt about it” “I hope you choke on one of those stupid pretzels you made Layla buy” she cut it short and made her way to a group of people from where Demri was calling her. “Hey, girl! I’ve been meaning to ask you: what sign are you? ‘Cause I have a faint idea of what you might be, but I wanna make sure I haven’t lost my touch” “Aquarius, what about you?” “I knew it! We’re neighbour signs, I’m a Pisces and I simply adore Aquarius people” Demri grinned enthusiastically, then looked at the others “They’re so full of knowledge and different interests, they always show you a point of view you would have never thought to see from, they-” “Ok, ok, enough with this astrology bullshit” Stone interrupted her, having apparently joined the group “We get it, you really like playing the little witch but cut us some slack, please” “Hey, it’s not bullshit! The planets are actually involved in shaping our personalit-” “Yeah? Then why Chris and I were born on the same day but he’s like that and I’m like this?” “I guess you can blame genetics for that” Sara blurted out, making Layne chuckle loudly enough to get the stink eye from the guitarist. “... that’s because you both have Sun in Cancer but were born in two completely different years, so all the other planets and signs are different too! It’s not so hard to get it, Stoney – this must be the hundredth time I’m explaining it to ya” the other girl didn’t miss a beat, and Sara could have kissed her then and there for the way she had just handed Stone’s ass to him – his embarrassed shitface was priceless. “So… how does this work? How can you actually know which planet is in which sign?” Chris seemed to show genuine interest about the topic, and Demri gave him a radiant grin. “Well, beside the birthdate you also have to take into account the time and birthplace you were born… the latitude and longitude and all those things, and you have to do some calculations to figure out the results, but you use some printed tables to help you with that” she sighed “I knew I had to bring my manual here! It’s old so the tables aren’t up to date, but they would have been good enough for our birthdates… fuck my life” “Hey, I’ve got one huge book that Layla gave me for my last birthday – if I’m not mistaken, the tables there go until 2020… I could lend it to you a few days so you can xerox the pages you need and then we could meet someplace so you can give it back to me? What do you say?” Sara didn’t have to wait for an answer because the other girl had literally jumped on her and was hugging her tightly. “You’re the best Aquarius I’ve ever met! God, I love you, you crazy, beautiful people” “I take it you approve, great” Sara chuckled “Just lemme go in my room to see where I put it – the sooner I start to look for it, the sooner you’ll be able to shed some light upon these amateurs’ miserable lives” She shot a cheeky wink in Demri’s direction and then proceeded to make her way to her room. <Who would have thought to find a fellow astrology enthusiast right here? I have to concede to Layla that, after all, giving this party wasn’t such a bad idea…> The girl smiled to herself: the day was reaching its end but it looked like it wasn’t going to be an entire failure – not something she would have expected after what had happened in the afternoon. She finally opened the door, a hand already going to flick the room’s light on, and when she turned she stood petrified. Apparently, there already were a couple of people on her bed: a girl with a blonde bob was straddling a guy – at least, the hands that were struggling to unclasp her bra seemed to belong to a man. The confirmation came when the hidden figure stuck his head out and revealed himself to be none other than Jeffrey Allen Ament. “Oh – I’m so-sorry, I’ll just go… don’t let me disturb the two of you” she muttered as stiffly as she could, then mustered all her strength and bolted out of the room.    

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The ice cubes in the drinks Layla had been holding in her hands were melting. She had fixed two more for Eddie and her but hadn’t approached the singer yet – and not because she couldn’t find him.  There he was, sitting on the couch, totally absorbed in a conversation with Matt Lukin, who was also sharing a joint with him.  Layla found herself fantasizing about what the hell those two could be talking about, whether they were having a deep philosophical debate or they were just trying to answer age-old questions like “What do teeth taste like?”, “Which armrest at the movie theater is yours?”, “Do pets name their owners?”, “Is the S or the C silent in SCENT?” The girl realized her drinks were warm and downed them both, hoping they would make her more talkative. Right after that she went to grab two beer cans from the fridge and walked through the people at the party up to Eddie at a moderately fast pace.  Eddie saw her coming towards him with some anticipation and just smiled at her. “And that’s why it’s called sand, I swear to god” Lukin pointed out as she was in front of her. “And why is that?” Layla asked and Matt shot her a glance and sighed, as if she was asking a question with an obvious answer. “Because it’s between the sea and the land, of course”   “Right, I’ve never thought about it!” she said as she handed one beer to Eddie. “What’s up, El? Are you having fun?” Vedder asked her and for a moment she thought that was probably the first time he called her like that: that was how Sara called her. She couldn’t say if it was a good or bad sign but didn’t think too much about it.  “Yeah, the party’s been pretty successful so far… I mean, it didn’t turn into a disaster yet and nothing is on fire in the house, so yeah, everything’s alright” the girl replied and couldn’t help being surprised by the number of words which were escaping her mouth.  <Couldn’t I simply say YES, WHAT ABOUT YOU? I guess it’s the alcohol speaking…> “And how come we say things are on fire while it’s actually fire being on things? Ever wondered about that?” Lukin questioned the two as he snatched the beer can from Layla’s hand “Thank you, darling” “Oh you’re welcome! And no… honestly I’ve never thought about that. Well, Eddie, can you just come with me for a second?” <Smooth, Layla, very smooth> she did a mental facepalm at how obvious she must have sounded. “What did I do?” the singer asked, suddenly alarmed, and Layla giggled and thought that he probably was too stoned to even understand shit. “Haha nothing, I just need you… err, need you for something” she pointed at somewhere vaguely around the hall with her thumb. “Uh ok, sure!” Vedder sprang up from the couch and took a last hit before handing what was left of the joint to Lukin. Layla started walking and gestured for Eddie to follow her. When he did she suddenly felt scared – actually terrified. She hadn’t practiced any speech, she hadn’t practiced anything, she just decided she’d tell him and now she had no idea how to practically do it. “Where are we going?” he talked into her ear as she was slowly walking through the people in the living room. “Uhm… just… DOWN THERE…” she didn’t turn around to answer and thought that yelling over the music was a much better option than finding herself face to face with Eddie just yet. “Are we leaving the house?” Eddie frowned as the two of them found themselves beside the front door of the apartment. “Oh no, I just, I thought of a quiet place, you know? To talk and stuff. And I think it’s quieter, here, don’t you think?” Layla said and knew that talk and stuff was up to her and it was too late to back away now. “It is. I honestly thought you wanted to save me from Lukin’s existential questions”  “Hehe well, also. But I also wanted to talk to you” “Oh. About what?” a million things rushed through Eddie’s mind right then. What if she wanted to tell him she was getting back with her boyfriend? What if it was the opposite? What if it had nothing to do about them at all? What if it was just the solution to her mysterious game… <Yeah, that must be it, stop building your usual castles in the air> “About… about things and… failure, you know?” “Failure? What do you mean?” he asked confused. “I mean… you can fail either if you do things without thinking about them or if you think about things without actually doing them, right?” “Yeah…?” Eddie nodded and squinted at her, trying to guess where she was going with this. “And this is one of those there-are-two-types-of-people things. And I think I belong to the second type, I always did” “Uh-huh” “Like, I’m the one who always thinks about doing or saying stuff but rarely does. I'm that type of failure” “I have to disagree with that” “What?” Layla was surprised but also somehow relieved about Eddie interrupting her, so she could have a few seconds more to figure out what the hell she was talking about and where she was heading with all this nonsense. “You didn’t think too much about crowd surfing at our last show, well, not during our set but… I mean, you’re thoughtful and all but sometimes you’re capable of such impetuous acts. And you’re everything but a failure” Layla didn’t know if she was more surprised at what Eddie thought of her or for the fact he could use the word impetuous while high.  “Well, I wish I was more impetuous in everyday life and not just at rock concerts”  “Why are you telling me this?” “It’s… it’s just Mike’s fault!” “Mike?” “Yeah, we were talking about New Year’s resolutions and stuff like that” “Do you wanna know what my resolution is?” Eddie asked, still suspicious about the whole conversation. <So is that what it’s all about? New Year’s small talk?> “Yes, please”  “Well… my resolution for 1991 is… to record this album and not to suck too much, to finally try and make an actual living of this thing that everybody in my family calls a hobby, you know? To play as many shows as I can. And not be fired by Stone” Eddie said and he wanted to add Kiss you to the list but he wasn’t intoxicated enough to say that out loud. “Oh well, that’s a very interesting bunch of resolutions” “What about yours? Being more impetuous and…?” “And…” <And tell you that I’ve been thinking about you, a lot. I think about you even when you’re right there with me. Like, I’m even thinking about you right now. Basically I always think about you. But not in a creepy way. It’s not like I’m listening at your door all the time. I’ve actually done it only once. Or twice. It’s not like I check the time when you get back home at night when I’m casually awake. Because it’s not like I stay awake on purpose waiting for you when you’re out at night. It’s definitely not like I picture your face while listening to your tape when you’re not around. It’s not like I listen to that cassette all the fucking time or anything. Well, to the casual observer of my thoughts it may look like I’m kinda creepy, like I’ve been thinking of you in a marginally creepy way… Oh my god, why am I telling you this? Wait, I’m not actually telling you! It’s all in my head so… nevermind> “... and get my master’s degree and find a real job. And get back into swimming” <See? I’m totally not thinking about you at all> “That’s cool”  “Well, I used to be a pro. I can’t be a pro anymore, I don’t wanna be, I just wanna do it more. I just love being in the water” “I see. I love that too” Eddie agreed and came closer as Layla backed up until she had her back against the door. At the same time, without knowing, they were both thinking about being in the water together. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re gonna reach all your goals. If the record is half as good as the demo, then it’ll be huge” Layla snapped out of her water fantasy, while out of the corner of her eye she spotted an ocean blue sparkly blur pushing its way through the living room and running across the hallway behind Eddie’s back. “Wow, well, thank you” the guy was inches away from her but she was now focused on her friend, getting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. <What the fuck is happening?> “... I gotta pee” “Huh?” “Yeah, gotta go. It’s almost midnight so… see you next year, hahaha” she nervously added and walked away, just like that, leaving a confused Eddie staring at the front door.  

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“Seems like she’s conjuring that book directly from Mars” Stone dead-panned: it had been a while ever since he had seen Sara going into her room. This time Layne didn’t laugh at him but thanks to his remark – to his wounded ego’s relief – and had instantly gained a slap on the nape provided by his girlfriend. “The more time passes, the more insufferable you become, Stoney” Demri huffed “It’s like you have some kind of biological need to pester anyone who has the misfortune of being on your way-nevermind! My ally has come out of the cave unscathed!” she added, after seeing the other girl finally exiting the room. Stone turned again and there she was, striding through the hallway like some sort of acid-tripped Starry Night. “Huh, looks like her treasure hunt didn’t go well” Layne remarked, noticing how her hands were empty; furthermore, she kept on walking without sparing their group a single glance until she disappeared from their view. “Annnnnd she’s gone” Chris clicked his tongue and raised his glass high in some sort of toast to Sara. “She’s gone but the real question is: where is she going?” Staley looked alternatively at his girlfriend, Cornell and Gossard, the latter remaining suspiciously silent. “And why?” Chris added after taking a sip. “Why? Well, given the expression on her face and the fact she didn’t seem to give a shit about us or the rest of the world, I think it’s pretty obvious she’s upset for something… or someone” Demri pointed out “But that could be just my stupid Pisces intuition talking, don’t mind me” <Tsk, it doesn’t take an astrologist to tell that the girl’s fucking mad> Stone thought but it wasn’t until he spotted a very well-known person in the corner that it all clicked in his mind.  When he saw Jeff rushing into the hallway, looking around, followed by a blonde girl who was talking to him while fixing her shirt, it all started making sense. <That poor excuse for a vertebrate….> the guitarist shook his head and scrubbed his hand across his face in frustration. “I need a drink” he said, excusing himself from the small circle of friends, and apparently walked up into the kitchen. Instead, he made a bee line to wherever Sara went. 

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“Sara? Come on, Sara! What’s up? Just tell me if you’re ok in there” Layla had been knocking on the bathroom’s door for a couple of minutes when Eddie first and Stone soon after showed up behind her. “What’s happening?” the guitarist tried to assess the situation, without mentioning what he had just witnessed. “It’s Sara,” the other guy answered him, while Layla proceeded to increase the knocking’s intensity, hoping to bother the other girl enough to let her into the bathroom “I think she’s not feeling good” “Oh – you think it has something to do with the food? Or maybe there are too many people in here and she felt dizzy...” Stone kept on feigning ignorance about the real cause of the girl’s distress. “I don’t know, it could be? Layla and I just happened to see her run in this direction and decided to follow her to see what we could do, but she doesn’t seem to be willing to cooperate with us” “And can you tell us what are you doing here, Stone?” Layla huffed, upset because her best friend still had to answer to her pleas to open the door “The less people we are, the more chances we have to make her feel a bit better” “Nothing, I swear I was up to nothing” he raised his hands “I was just going to get myself something to drink when I saw you guys quickly walking in this direction and thought that I should check on you, that’s all”  “What if she… you know… took something and…” Eddie scratched his nape, casually speculating, but Layla and Stone shushed him up almost at the same time. “What? No way, man” “Sara’s not into that stuff. I know what happened. It’s all Jeff’s fault” the girl pointed out and Gossard was surprised to hear that.  <Did she see them too?> he wondered. But if that was the case, he was mostly surprised that Layla would mention it at all.  “Why Jeff? What did he do?” the singer questioned, thinking of another typical round of Sara and Jeff quarrelling and being at each other’s throat. Eddie thought maybe Jeff could have gone too far this time. “I told him to go to Pike Place Market but I bet he didn’t!” she said, still frantically pounding on the door. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Stone had no idea what was going through the girl’s head and looked at Eddie, who seemed equally perplexed. “It took him little time to do all the grocery shopping I asked him to do for the party. I specifically told him to go to Pike Place to buy seafood but he came back with some low quality prawns he must have bought in some fucking convenience store or something closer to home. Sorry Sara, I should have known better!” the girl added the last sentence directly addressing the bathroom door in a louder voice. Stone laughed internally at Layla’s assumption, whereas Eddie thought she must be really worried if she used the F word. “Well, darling, if it makes you feel any better I’m not hearing retching sounds coming from the inside, so I think the food poisoning hypothesis can be excluded” the guitarist patted her on the shoulder, but she kept on knocking on the door. “I’m sorry to inform you that I won’t feel better until my best friend comes out of the cave! She doesn’t know it yet, but I make a damn good Jack Torrance impression and I’m honestly itching to let her see it” “... ouch, maybe it’s better if I go looking for something to drink for her, the situation is quickly escalating” Eddie added and began to walk in the kitchen’s direction, hoping to find something for himself as well. “Please, let it be some chamomile tea because she doesn’t need any more Godzilla fuel” Stone shouted at him, avoiding a brutal push from Layla, who had heard everything. “Can’t you just stop being sassy for a minute? I’m worried, for real, can’t you see it?” “You don’t need to be, trust me. Sara’s ok, nothing happened, really”  “How can you say that?” the girl felt he was keeping something from her.  “Because I know” “And how do you know?” “Because… Well, I was there so I know what happened. And it was nothing. Sara is just making a scene for nothing – which is typical of her, lemme tell ya” “Why do I feel you’ve got something to do with that nothing that happened?” Layla looked at him suspiciously. <I knew he was up to something the moment he arrived! After all, he was talking to her like five minutes before she fled into the bathroom, it must be Stone’s fault!> “Ok ok, I give in! I’ll confess.” Stone raised his hands as a defeat sign and said the first thing that came up to his mind “We were discussing movies and I just shared one maybe slightly unpopular opinion” “That is…?” “I just said that Martin Scorsese is overrated” “YOU SAID WHAT?” “I mean, he directed a bunch of pretty decent movies but-” “A bunch of decent movies? Did you use these exact words?” Layla now could see why Sara wouldn’t want anything to do with the world outside the bathroom. “Yeah, more or less. Anyway, he did something good but… err, I just find him so boring, you know” “Well I think I can speak on behalf of Sara and say you can stick your unpopular opinion up to your you-know-where and apologize to her, Martin and the movie industry” she folded her arms and started tapping her toe as if she was actually waiting for apologies. “And that was what I was expecting, I was expecting her to tell me to fuck off as usual but she just up and left. Maybe she’s in a bad mood” Stone shrugged and silently prayed for the girl to believe his bullshit. “Yeah, she’s been in a weird mood all day” Layla recalled her friend disappearing the whole afternoon and then reacting strangely during their drinking game. “I’ll apologize to her” “Good. Just do it” “But… I can’t do it if you stay here” “Hahaha and why? Are you shy all of a sudden?” “It’s hard for me, you know” “Are you like the poor man’s version of the Fonz? Who can’t physically say I’m sorry?” “Sort of…” “I don’t know if I can leave you and Sara alone, can I trust you?” she sincerely asked. “Oh for fuck’s sake, sure you can! I’m not Jeff” Stone retorted and his remark had multiple meanings but Layla could only grasp one of them, the most obvious one. “Ok, come on Sara, tell this guy off and get out of here! It’s almost midnight!” she addressed her friend again with one last weak knock on the bathroom door and then went back into the living room. “Scout, the coast is clear… now you can come out” Stone had waited for Layla to disappear before addressing again the door; there was silence, when finally a croaky voice came from inside the bathroom. “... that makes you Boo Radley, I suppose” The guitarist smiled to himself: “I guess it does” “I appreciate the sentiment but I just wanna stay alone” “And monopolize the bathroom for the whole evening? Nuh-uh, missy, I won’t all-” “Stoney, what are you doing here, talking with the bathroom door?” a wild McCready appeared out of thin air, looking at his bandmate in a mildly concerned way. “Just trying to find out if it’s made of oak or pine” “Well, try to get an answer really soon because I must go inside!” “Jeez, Mikey, you know you can smoke from the balcony, right? Nobody’s going to call the police” “What did you understand??” Mike grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him “I already did that, we’re talking about another kind of emergency!” “What? You lost your contacts and need to put in another pair?” “I NEED TO SHIT! There, I said it! Are you happy, now???”  “... you could have done it from the start” “That’s what I was trying to do” “... too bad we have another emergency going on, so you should find another suitable place for your crap – literally”  “WHAT THE FUC-” “In your shoes, I wouldn’t get excited… you never know when shit’s about to hit the fan” “Fuck off you and your shitty puns, Stone! Where am I supposed to go??” Mike whined, shifting his weight from one leg to another with little jumps. “I don’t know, you could shit in Jeff’s bass case? Or hidden behind the ficus plants, but pay attention because Elias might still be lurking there…” “I’m going to knock on some apartment doors and the first that opens to me is gonna be the chosen savior!” McCready made his way to the front door, but stopped halfway “Don’t think I’m gonna forget how merciless you’ve been with me, I’m having mine served cold” “Hope you’re not talking about your imminent masterpiece, Cready…” “FUCK OFF, STONE” and, thus said, the victim ran outside the VedderAment residence.  Gossard let out a huge breath of relief, then turned again towards the door: “Now, where were we?”