#and she gets time to digest this moment and this feeling

[darkmatilda]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: A panel from Dungeon Meshi. It shows the corpses of Senshi, Chilchuck, Izutsumi and Laois all propped up against fancy paintings sitting on the ground against the wall. Marcille is alive but has a reddened, tear-streaked face and a dead-eyed expression as she leans her head against Laios' shoulder, reached out a hand, and says, "Did you give even a moment's thought to how I'd feel surrounded by your corpses...?" End ID.]

God this panel took me right the fuck out. On the one hand, what else can they do? Marcille's the only member of the party skilled enough in magic to do resurrection spells. Laois straight up tells her he's giving her the neck armour because she's the healer, the one they can't afford to lose; she can rez the rest but if she dies, they're all doomed. And it's a uniquely cruel position for Marcille to be in because of her deep, aching fear of outliving everyone she loves, a fear that Laios has to be aware of on some level, even if he doesn't clearly remember the nightmare he rescued Marcille from... but even if he was fully aware of it, that doesn't change the fact that she's the only one of them who can rez. It's inescapable that she has to be in this position, just as, in the end, it's inescapable that she will outlive everyone in this panel even if they live to ripe old ages. Marcille being forced to microdose her inevitable looming grief is a great setup for her making the decision she does when they meet the Winged Lion--how can she go through this again, for real?

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[midnightcitymoon]

Everything is always working out for me best case scenario

11:11 ☆MiracleMakeAWishComeTrueSpell🌙

Eleven-Eleven, This is a call to all angels in heaven, give me a miracle and make my wish come true!

🌜☄⭐🕤🕙🕦⭐🕯🕯📰🎁🎆🎈🎉🎖🔜🔝🔔🕯💰📰💳📧��🔥🗝🔮🛡🌟☄🌛🌞🌈

Like to Charge, Reblog To Cast spell

[gangplanksorenji]

Sterling

Pairing: aespa’s Karina & aespa’s Winter x Male Reader

Word Count: 19,461

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! Possibly the longest, flithiest and the most boner-fueled hazed smut I have ever written (probably the most chaotic too, not gonna lie). Have fun reading this fic yereobun and I hope you enjoy this! <33

This one is dedicated to @sinswithpleasure who basically fueled me to write this kind of a WinRina fic...

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Peers, seniors and professors—probably the three pivotal pillars where a university is commonly known for.

You’re hanging onto that belief for a long time now that everything revolves around them, and it just doesn’t help with such hierarchy you possess within your own hands. It’s just with the fact that you can’t come up to an unbiased conclusion, but who cares? 

They may say it’s a great opportunity to be in your position, walking around the university with a silver spoon up in your arse? Well, you’ll say that’s a myth from the oblivious freshmans new to the block or the people thinking it’s all sunshines and rainbows but in reality, you’re in this constant state of stress and improvement that seems to get long so well yet contradicting.

You cursed yourself for the better, but it’s fine because there’s someone to lean on in times that truly tests you as a person, and maybe even yourself as your own enemy.

“Hey… you alright?” A faint voice murmurs onto your shoulders, you huffing a breath once you hear her voice, expressing your relief and that hint of anxiety.

“I don’t know honestly…” You’re stressed and in this battle with yourself, grasping the situation and fully digesting it was just a poison you’d love to get rid of. “I’m just a little rivaled if I deserve this spot or not.”

The girl’s face paints concern and doubt, patting your shoulder as soon as she hears those words alongside the reassuring words like: “Don’t say that, babe—you deserved this! Don’t be too heavy on yourself…”

She’s a girl you’d go to war for, would fight until the end of time because of how much you love her, even though it’s sometimes over the scope of things and that’s Yu Jimin, mononymously known as Karina. She’s a girl which everyone leaves in awe with her beauty, charisma and her clever mind (even though she can be silly sometimes), and a personality that’s caring and funny, truly, you’re hitting the jackpot having a girl like her.

These are true and that’s why you love her unconditionally—it’s just not that she’s possibly the most beautiful girl to ever exist in the world (honestly, you’d vouch that this is factual because her visuals are something surreal) but it’s mostly the fact on how she’s so down-to-earth and that alone makes you even fall for her more.

Her words of comfort alone can make your mind tranquil, and you adore it, even in the simplest terms.

“I know this sounds dumb, babe, but why are you feeling like this? Like right now, randomly?” It actually piques Karina, on why you’re suddenly like this. She knows that you’re in a different mood, far from your usual self with this given moment right from the start and her curiosity won’t do any better for her.

You scoff, looking at the distance. “No, I just—like, feel nervous or uneasy, I guess?”

“On what, exactly?” Karina’s eyebrows furrowed, interested in what may come out of your mouth. Even with the interest, a bright idea flashes onto her mind, supposedly knowing the roots of your nervousness.

“Let me guess, is it about Winter?” She hit the bullseye, your pupils dilating says so and it’s too late to lie right now.

“Yeah…” You scoff, Karina’s eyebrows furrowed, head shaking a little as she can’t believe you’re almost in shambles just because of a single girl. 

“Oh god, I thought it was something to really worry about.” Karina laughed a little, finding the situation hilarious as you’re perplexed with her unserious demeanor.

“You’re not worried about Winter?”

“Really, her?” Karina clicks her tongue, still registering how relieved she is when she hears the name and continues to reassure you, yet this time in a playfully silly manner. “I’ve been friends with her for a while and let me tell you, you shouldn’t be bothered about her…”

Those little words help you a little, more uplifted than before as she adds, “By the way, why do you feel nervous though? And why did you mention her? Something working on with her?”

She straightforward yet still quizzical, her questions remained her interest floating in the air and it’s for you to answer it. “Uhm, like—here: we’re going to work on a project that’s been approved by the campus’ director and I feel like Winter is something I won’t be comfortable working with…”

There lies the truth: you don’t despise Winter, not even in the slightest, yet there’s a faux inkling in your brain that’s keeping you away from making yourself comfortable with her, and it’s something dumb. 

“How so?”

“I don’t know, Rina…” You gave her this furrowed look, slightly shy and ultimately indecisive. “She looks intimidating and hard to approach. I may just feel the slightest bit of enthusiasm working with her.”

Karina feels something is off, analyzing your expression as it’s enough to make a conclusion: “Winter being intimidating? Come on now…”

“What?”

Karina rolls her eyes, laughing with your words and you paint a puzzled face alongside her chuckles. “Babe, don’t worry about Winter. If it’s anything, she’s cordial and approachable, just a little shy, alright?”

Right. 

“Now exactly tell me the real reason why you’re feeling uncomfortable working with her.” She knows you, reads you like a book she always bothers to read.

The truth unfolds, saying everything to Karina and this is what it really meant: you deemed to your life that you’ll never interact with Winter ever again just because of a predicament. Accidentally spilling copious amounts of milk tea on her skirt months ago is enough to tell the tale—it never really got better than that, and as soon as she glared at you and angrily left the cafeteria with her backpack, you know you introduced yourself in an atrocious way. It was embarrassing to say the least, interrupting her study time because of your clumsiness was the worst thing to ever happen, even though there’s like four people who saw the mess.

You apologized on the spot and never got a reply back. You even tried to contact her but to no avail, she doesn’t really respond. Ever since, you’ve tainted a picture that she’s grumpy and there’s no way on this planet she’ll forgive you (it’s probably childish but what can you do?).

“Wait, that sounded familiar…”

“Huh, how?”

You’re constantly in this puzzled state, expecting words that can surprise you at any moment. “No, coz like—Winter said this too the other day to me and let me tell you, it’s not really a bad thing but she can’t help but feel annoyed too.”

She’s down to earth, and it hurts. If you only knew this, then it would not besmirch her image to your brain. “Also, babe, she also wanted to apologize to you because of her attitude but she didn’t seem to contact you—what a destiny, huh?”

Your face paints visible shock and delight, a little baffled that she’s actually trying to contact you. You’d love to believe that Karina’s lying, but it’s one of the things she’ll do last, barely doing it with you. 

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, I can even call her right now—”

“Wait, wait, wait! Not yet!” You pout, eyebrows furrowing as you felt conflicted with the information she had given you. You don’t know what to genuinely feel—delight, relief, nervousness or embarrassment—but one thing’s for sure: you’d know Winter would be such an angel in disguise, clearly a good person all throughout.

Guess Karina’s words really shifted your view on Winter? Yes, that’s mostly her power against you.

“Why not? I am even here to sort the mess you made.”

“It’s not that, okay?” You sigh, facing her again as her cockiness is probably admirable knowing she can genuinely help you (she knows it). “I’ll just sort these things out with just Winter and I.”

You genuinely appreciate her efforts, helping you even though she sounds like it’s nothing much of a deal for her—that’s another element that you love about her, albeit her usual unserious self that’s sometimes intolerable (it’s rarely experienced, though). Even though she’s her close friend and having a supposedly close relationship, you wouldn’t need her to tolerate the fear of being beside Winter because of your own battles within yourself. 

This time, you’ll establish a greater relationship with her and you’ll do that for the sake of making such an ambitious project possible, leaving no doubts nor regrets.

---

Yes, it’s ambitious and clearly, a lot is on the line, especially your reputation as the highest member in the council and the stakes are even higher considering you're working with a person that’s an integral part of the council, another linchpin, as they say. You’d wonder why the director chose the both of you to possibly lead this proposal, but you’ll soon hope to leave those questionable thoughts in the gutter.

Luckily for you, you'll meet Winter again for like the third time (this time, it’s influenced by Karina and you thank her for that even though you said you won’t need her, yet you lied.), and hoping to talk through something to make yourselves truly comfortable with each other.

You tap your foot, fidget your fingers as you wait for her, looking at the distance in hopes for her appearance sooner. 

“Uhm, hi? Hi…” You looked onto your shoulder, bowed at each other, a little startled with the blonde fingure’s appearance and she seemed to be slightly bubblier than your last two meetings with her, and it’s probably the sole reason for Karina's effect with her words in accordance with you.

She’s no doubt, really shy yet actually approachable—guess she is breathing a different set of fresh air and you won’t even complain. “You, uhm… probably know why you’re here.”

You’re a little uneasy, teeth shivering a little as she nods, then appears that cute little pout that you find adorable in a way. “To talk about something?”

“Right.”

“Right.” Winter fixes her seat, you clear your throat and do the same thing as her, and now, you regain confidence and lock eyes to her. 

“I—uhm, yeah… I really want t—”

“No!” It was clear, falling onto your ears and you’re awkward within this given moment until she continued. “I should be the one apologizing… so I’m sorry for what's been with me for the past days.” Winter falls onto this shy demeanor of hers, flashing a coy smile while still maintaining eye contact with yours and deeply, you’re convinced.

Not really convinced in the way of knowing it’s all her fault (the incident was yours to blame) but in a way of convincing yourself that she’s this captivating to look at. You shouldn’t be distracted, your attention invested in taking this seriously but you just can’t just brush off the fact that she’s beautiful.

“No, no, this is bad—Karina’s gonna kill me—just talk with her and nothing else.” And so you did, fighting the urge of just being in awe with such a woman.

“Uhm—yeah, it’s fine, Winter… I’m sorry too if I just ruined your day back then—”

“No!”

“No?” You’re confused, questioning why she would say a confident “no”. She looks away, off the distance as she felt that her confidence fazed you, keeping her mellow voice audible again after such an enthusiastic approach. 

“I mean you did but like—I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that…”

You inch yourself a little closer, leaning an elbow onto the table and painting a smile, it’s growing and becoming more sincere and it reassures her, little by little. “Thanks, I’m sorry if I—like, introduced myself in such a bad way.”

Winter laughs and it’s contagious, doing it too at your own end as she tucks her blonde locks behind her ear, her eyes sparkling in interest and totally surging with keenness. “Hah… You know, actually, uhm—hoo… I found that a little hilarious.”

You clear your thoughts, raise your eyebrows and assess if you really heard her right—in fact, you really did and you just can’t fathom how she found such an embarrassing event would spark such little entertainment. “What do you mean, Winter?”

Winter sighs, looking down and possibly regretting what she said and it doesn’t help with your tone a little raised up (you’re not angry but at her end, she doesn’t like this and thinks the other way). “No, I-I don’t mean it in a bad way! Like, maybe a little bit but honestly, I felt a little bad too…”

She coats her embarrassment with words you can’t be sure if she’s sincere about or not, but one thing’s for sure, that she’s actually a great person to be with. You can feel how she’s like more vocal—Karina said that Winter isn’t much of a person that talks that much, and she also does it whenever she feels comfortable—and you like it and knowing she’s still hinting that miniscule shyness, you reassure her that you’re not mad about anything, but rather even finding your predicament a little hilarious too.

Guess the both of you are getting too comfortable with each other too fast than what you’ve expected.

“Not much of a thing?”

“Yes, Winter.” You grin, letting her know that what happened from the past prior to this moment wouldn’t be a hindrance in order to develop a friendly relationship with Winter, especially in these times where you’re going to experience working with her. You extend your arm a little onto the table as she eyes it, taking it as a move signifying your comfort. “Looking now, I think we’ll work well together.”

She’s probably fluttered hearing your words, hinting a faint blush onto her cheeks and looking down with the sudden surge of joy hitting her and of course, still sheepish. “I’m flattered you think that way.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Winter paints that set of her dulcet smiles that you would grow accustomed to love because of how vibrant they are—you swear to god, her smiles alone can make your day better, alongside Karina’s too, of course. “I don’t know—everything feels much better right now that we’re just talking face to face.”

“And not with the pressure of anyone?” You assume that she felt much more comfortable with you knowing there’s no one around that will possibly judge or interrupt the both of you, compared to the last two meetings with the influence of the director and the people involved with this project. Also, as Karina said, Winter isn’t much of a first-initiative kind of girl and is often shy, so you wouldn’t blame her for being like the opposite of herself right now and you find this confidence of her amusing and great.

“I do think so…” Winter nods, knowing that having all eyes onto both of you and the others really defeats the purpose of being assured but knowing how this personality of hers can be her bane is enough to make yourself vocal about that judgment of yours. “But I do think that you should get used to this—like this kind of environment.”

Winter sighs, then averted her eyes back to yours. “Karina-unnie has been saying that too and yeah, I should consider that.”

“You know, Winter, it still baffles me that you’re friends with Karina.”

Winter’s mouth is ajar, a little shocked with your words. “Oh, how so?”

“I don’t really know but like, she barely talks about you whenever we’re together and is it the same at your end? If you don’t mind though.”

You could sense that she probably doesn't mind it and that’s a sigh of relief. Her amicable tone sets off the mood right, and that’s what matters. “I mean it’s pretty bare too, but I knew you before… like when you’re still in the lowest positions in the council.” 

You’re piqued and nodded with Winter’s enlightenment. Knowing this conversation will stir away to the supposed reason why the both of you are here, you let her know that and you’re just grateful that the two of you are getting comfortable with each other, and realized that the saying of “don’t judge the book by its cover” is always evident and factual.

“Uhm, by the way, about the uhm… the project we’re working on, I thought about an idea on how we can start it.”

Winter’s eyes sparkle in utter investment of her attention towards you, tilting her head and smiling as she mutters, “I actually have something in mind too but, lead the way, please.”

Maybe it all falls down to this moment, and you can’t wait what this day has in store for you. You never anticipated something so positively summarized for a conclusion, but of course, you’ll take these small victories and let yourself be invested with this ambitious endeavor.

---

You never knew how Winter and you could be so comfortable with each other, establishing a robust relationship after the both of you part ways and it ends up on a greater note, finally getting her number and having a greater contact than ever before. Of course, boundaries need to be tolerated and it's further shown by her, knowing how respectful she is because of her awareness between you and Karina.

And it’s not like Winter’s that type of a homewrecker, but you could never be so sure since you barely knew her. Albeit all of that, you protest to the thought that Winter’s going onto that route, her modest and friendly personality says so and you could feel how genuine it is.

Well, it is a great day but nothing’s going to fulfill such greatness without laying your eyes on indisputably, the most beautiful person that ever walked on this earth, inches away from her and you’re captivated with her presence whenever she’s around.

Her voice resonates around your ear, and instantly, you curled up a smile. “Long day?”

You sip on your drink, then let out a sigh with her words. “Possibly, yeah…”

Karina sees this as something that can be considered alarming, your sighs deep enough to make her think of an assumption that you’re probably lying. “You alright? You seem like, pft… unsatisfied.”

“Okay, honestly, I’m just tired and I’ll be like this most of the time…” Karina understands this, with your current responsibility with such a hierarchical position deems such exhausting endeavors possible. You’re grateful for having a thoughtful girlfriend like her who perceives things thoroughly, and you’ll be thankful with that. “Anyways, this flavor rocks by the way—what flavor is this?”

“Dark mocha frappe—just how you like it, babe…” You smile knowing these small victories are wholesome, even knowing how you like your frappes is a great thing.

“I owe you something then, no?” Karina’s mouth is agape, shocked and playfully becomes mad, feeling her efforts aren’t taken seriously by you. You then laughed with her frisky retorts, her face painted with little annoyance and shocked is such a sight to see, further teasing her as she replies. “No! Yah, why do you think like I’m owing you something most of the time?”

You sip, humming in satisfaction with the strong, sweet taste as you laughed right after. “Sometimes, I just feel like it but anyways, thanks, Rina.”

Karina’s demeanor shifted into those glowing eyes of hers, in awe with your amicable words that made her a little shy. “Anyways, how’d it go, babe?”

You paused for seconds, taking another sip as you flash a smile, full of vanity on how the events unfolded and she knows exactly what you’ll say. “Pretty great, honestly—never knew Winter would be such a great girl to talk with.”

Karina continuously stirred her light-colored frappuccino, sipping on it and then faced you, mouthing the words, “Told ya, she’s a great girl.”

She places the cup onto the marbled table, approaching you and palms your shoulder with a caressing touch and she continues. “Glad my girl’s doing well, honestly—this is such a great opportunity for her, and for you.” 

Then Karina’s eyes dart onto yours, a breath brushing against your lips as she smirks, and you know that her façade is possibly ambiguous right now. “Why get too dangerously close, Rina?”

Karina chuckles, eyes off the distance then back to yours, her tone a little interrogative. “Is it just bad for me to feel happy for the both of you, hm, babe?”

“Right, Rina…” You’re a bit sarcastic, as she pulls away a little bit, and retorts playfully against you. 

“Yah! Anyways, I just missed being this close to you, y’know?” You can sense how much she missed these intimate and wholesome moments with you, probably neglecting these because of your own endeavors which seem to not meet its demise. You’re subtly complaining, but it’s now a part of you, so you will bear with it and live with your responsibilities as a hierarchical linchpin. 

You won’t miss out on chances like this, opportunities lingering within your hands’ reach is a must. “I missed this too, Rina.”

Tilt her chin and then you indulge onto that apotheotic act—lips clashed onto yours; tongues tangled as its carnal instinct. Every second that counts delves deeper into killing that deprivation that roamed all over your bodies, and instantly, found that longing gem that’s been buried for quite some time—satisfaction.

She brought the light of your dying star, and you’re welcoming her abilities to bend the laws of physics—normally, this sounds impossible and immoral, yet ambiguously speaking, she can probably ignite that feeling again.

“Kiss me more—kiss me more, baby…” Pecks and its resonating sounds fill the air, the love emanating all throughout sets up the mood vibrantly and you got to thank Karina for that. 

You just reciprocated, can’t be bothered to translate your feelings through words and she succumbs to the feeling. Your lips pepper hers just right, insatiable with the way you run your expertise and cupping her cheeks is a great leverage. Her hands just roams its way onto your waist, tracing your abdomen then inadvertently (there’s a high chance it’s not), she hikes up the hem of your shirt until you stop her.

“Calm down for a second, Rina.”

“But I can’t, baby…” She wants it, but there’s more ways to do it before achieving such a climax, and you’re voicing it out with no hesitation.

“Let us finish these foods and drinks first, no?”

Karina pouts, an audible hml can be heard as she knows you have a valid point. “Fine then, but after this, we gotta dive for more.”

You chuckle, knowing where this will descend into. “Whatever you want, my love.”

Karina’s eyes just widened with your given name towards her, and you knew you picked her locks with it.

“Clever minds could bear such blessings in the smallest things.”

---

There’s nothing denying this, not even God himself—you’re way too in love with Karina. It’s such a blessing getting yourself in a position where you can be intimate with your movements, peppering her with kisses up to her abdomen or even going over the roof. Yet now is just full of warmth, her embrace against yours is something you’ll cherish, even engaging into deeper, warmer cuddles as her head rests onto your shoulder.

“It’s going to be a big event tomorrow, ain’t it, babe?”

“Not really, big, but like—” You tuck her hair behind her ear, endeared with her beauty as you can't help but just be in awe but you continue. “—mostly a crucial part for us, probably.”

The both of you are under the covers, feeling each other’s heat and the lingering feeling of the attachment she’s been longing for, caressing her hands onto your bare skin and moaning a little with her enchanting and sensitive touch. You let Karina go berserk, suckling onto your collarbones and your neck, kissing it with a renowned fervor and her actions just makes you feel something that you’re possibly dying to feel in a long while. “You know babe—mwah, hm, thinking of that, we should probably hangout or some sort…”

You paint that puzzled face, averting her attention towards you with a touch on her shoulder and is eager to clarify what she’s trying to say. “What do you mean? We’re hanging out right now, no?”

Karina chortles, hands now roaming onto your arms as she replies, “Not that babe… I’m thinking about us with Winter.”

That name just becomes a ring onto your brain, and you ultimately poised yourself in a different approach whenever she calls that name out. “Why involve Winter with this? What are you try—”

Karina shushes you with a finger, your eyes widening with her actions as her reassuring tone calms your mind. “Come on, just trust me, babe—think of this as a way for the both of you to be more comfortable with each other, okay?”

The emphasis is clearly something underlying suspicion, but nonetheless, you know Karina wants the best for both worlds, and it’s up for you to seal the deal. She still maintains eye contact with you, chin resting against the upper part of your sternum as her eyes glisten with anticipation, an anticipation with your words needing to complete the puzzle.

“So, what do you say?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you gaze back to her. “Promise me this isn’t something I will be worried about, alright?”

Another chuckle, and Karina’s confidence fades your uneasiness. “Why would I make you feel like that? Of course not.”

You trust her, you ultimately do and she knows she won’t let yourself be in the brink of harm or anything that can make you feel anxiety. “Okay then, I’d love to see your dynamics with Winter too…”

You both laugh faintly, as she kissed your collarbone and averted those orbs of hers towards yours for the umpteenth time. “Oho, there’s a lot and gosh, I’m excited for tomorrow…”

You yawn, almost burying yourself onto the pillows that signifies your drowsiness. “You know, I should probably sleep now, Karina—tomorrow’s a long day.”

“For both of us too…” Karina adds, and her hands tuck your hair behind your ear, then muttering the words, “Good night, baby.”

“Good night too, Rina.” You kissed her on the lips again, and then pulled away, matching her energy as she laughed and became more flustered because of it. 

“You know that I love you so much, right, babe?”

“Of course, I love you too—like, so much, Rina.”

You pulled her into another torrid kiss, her hands finding your neck as you indulged for more and god, this felt like it would never stop, until dawn.

Not going to lie, whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll look forward to it and you’re reassured knowing it’s Karina within your side. A great way to end this day is probably another animalistic approach and you can’t be bothered to make yourself deprived with that.

Or is it?

The night is still young, and limits are still onto the horizon on what’s possible to do…

---

It was one hell of a night, mostly in the excitement of missing each other’s intimate presence and the little bonds that you’d take as a win. You’ll eventually receive texts from Winter which you eagerly responded to, feeling butterflies whenever you reply and it’s one of the best things to happen nowadays.

You’re getting ready for the first milestone on this day, and the best way to encounter a nuisance is a buzz from your phone, coming from Karina.

katarina_for_u at 13:14 - “I’ll be just meeting the both of you outside the university’s grounds, ok?”

You’re a little surprised, knowing she probably has a class at this given time frame, and possibly ending before the sun settles. 

You reply, “Don’t you have a class right now?”

You wait for a little while, before you can see Karina typing again and anticipating her answer.

katarina_for_u at 13:15 - “Well, it’s actually postponed and ㅠㅠ I forgot to say it to you…” 

You won’t mind that honestly and see it as an absolute win. You never felt those little triumphs in you once she texted that, and you could never start yourself standing so proudly. You didn’t mind it that much once she said that she never told you about it, so you replied back only for another notification popping up onto your phone and that averted your attention.

kim_winter at 13:18 - “Hi! I’ll be waiting for you in the AVR, the right side of the seats, a little in front. See you!”

These girls have their own appeal and you’re just in shambles with it. Winter’s amicable tone when texting is something adorable, you may even say it’s opposite to what you’ve thought of her prior to yesterday’s meeting. You can really sense growing that attachment towards her within your friendly relationship with her, and that’s all that matters, whether it’s benefiting inside the university or solely just expanding your circle. 

And it’s just great for your popularity and how you’ll see things—clearly, knowing a lot of people will help you with improving your social skills and the way you approach them, or even strangers.

Yet the circle is mostly sequestered between the three of you, concealed from the others and you’ll live with that most of the time.

You reply back to Winter while brushing your teeth, and you look at yourself in the mirror, feeling that confidence in you and the trust within you on what this day can offer.

Really, you’re just in the tip of the iceberg…

---

“Never knew there’ll be so many people in here, Winter.”

Winter bites her lips, playing with her lips as she nods slowly. “Yeah, and it’ll be a long one too…”

You could already sense the boredom laced within her voice, and it’s going to be the battle on who’s going to be utterly invested at the of the event (not going to lie, you’ll probably will be interested in this but you wouldn’t lie to your teeth to say this won’t delve down onto such ennui). 

Your eyes wander around the people that’s taking their seats and the people working behind the scenes of the event. You do that for a few more seconds, then check on your phone and then scroll onto the endless blue light it emits, then at the end, earn a smile or possibly, a faint chuckle.

Winter then interrupts you with a light tap onto your shoulder, and immediately, you turn off your phone and shift your attention to her. “Anyways, did Karina tell you something about us three like—hanging out or some sort?”

You fake a cough, covering your mouth with a tight fist as your eyes widen, amused with the fact that she’s also aware of what’s going to happen after this (Karina and her have connections, so it’s not surprising to bear such news to the very least). “Yeah, yeah—actually she said it first to me and had that first thought but like…”

You produce this vacuum-like sound, which can be considered tinnitus or some sort and then bite your lip as Winter anticipates, “Like what?”

You scoff, averting your eyes to her, “Like do you really like this? Like, if you would hang out with us, would you?”

Winter hitches a breath, scoffing too as she feels like your question sounds a little dumb since the answer is probably obvious. “Tch, o-of course! You know, I really wanted to know more about you and Karina is such a great friend to hang out with—I can just see ourselves in a win.”

Totally convinced right from the start of her tone, you nod slowly and have yourself some peace of mind, knowing Winter is eager to do this. 

This coursing sensation within you distracts you, and it’s like a bugbear you can’t seem to get rid off—and still, the peace of mind is still faux. This is risky for a girl like her to know such things you want to address, even if it’s some sort of an enigma that has some double meaning. Your mind is shouting at you to do it and with the fire in you ready to burst out, you knew it was time but you’re going to play safer.

“Winter…”

“Yeah?” She continued viewing her eyelashes onto her phone, and then averting those alluring eyes of hers to you.

“You know Karina’s one hell of a girl, y’know?” Your eyes feel weightful, head tilted by a little and weirdly enough, she’s piqued on what you’re trying to imply.

“Like in what way?... Like something crazy, wild or—”

“That!” You exclaim a little-too-loud as you paint a sheepish façade, and then brushed off when no one possibly hears your tone’s ebullience. “Sorry, like that—oh gosh, how would you know?”

Winter’s face is confused, but eventually, got the grip on what hit your buttons. “So wait… her being wild? Am I right?.... Like…”

“Yeah, that, actually…” You feel a little ashamed of why you’re bringing this out, and eagerly apologize. “God, I’m sorry for bringing this out…”

Winter’s hands roam to your shoulder, reassuring you that it’s not really that taboo at her end. “Oh no no, actually, Karina-unnie’s other side is pretty common on my end too…”

Honestly, right now, you’re fucking shocked on how she is straightforward, composed and not even disgusted to the slightest. You felt yourself on the edge of a cliff but saved with how she took this possibly embarrassing conversation effortlessly. You sighed in relief and your curiosity’s at an all-time high right now. 

“Oh wow, I thought you'd be like weirding out—”

“Oh, hah…” Winter scoffed, rejuvenating herself with a light shake of her head, eyebrow raising and then down, as she continued, “Maybe if it’s the other girls, then probably that will end there but not me…”

You don’t know why, but you admire her composed demeanor and you love it. Your mouth is slightly ajar, still rendering how she’s taking this so calm. “You don’t mind if I ask how often she’s sharing something like this?”

“Honestly, it’s pretty rare and please don’t get mad if I say something like this, alright?”

You fixed your posture, cleared your throat, welcoming every word that comes out of her mouth with open arms. “It’s fine, you can share it, Winter.”

“She talks about you, on those given times too…”

Oh god, you were expecting it in the slightest, but you’re still baffled with that given fact and it’s evident with the gasp you let out.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry—god, please don’t—just keep this thing within us three, okay?” You’re a little weary, nervous too with the fact that Winter knows the factual sin between you and Karina but she assures you that everything’s going to be fine.

“I can assure you every secret with me is safe, and I will never tell anyone about this thing you’re having with Rina-unnie.”

At least she’s something to rely on with her given words, at least, for what you heard. “Ohh… glad it’s tight shut for anyone to know.”

“Truly, truly.” You should start and trust her, gain that building faith towards her and this is a great start and the best part here is her genuine approach.

Even if it’s just this quick for the both of you to be too comfortable, it’s just in the right pace considering having attachments with Karina eased both of your socializations with each other.

You just pray to god that the secret never sees the light of day. Hopefully…

---

Sun’s starting to set, hours have been spent on something that’s probably helpful, to the very least knowing that you've learnt something and it goes the same with Winter. Your lazy ass wouldn’t appear onto these kinds of events if you weren’t having a name for yourself.

But those flew away from the fabric of time, and all that matters is between the three of you and what Karina has in store for the both of you. You walk with Winter out of the halls of the conference building and onto the parking lot, escorting her and you immediately give her the green light to be your passenger for this night.

“You sure you don’t mind?”

You scoff, “Of course, Winter—you gotta go to the backseat though, if you don’t mind it.”

“Of course, it’s not much of a deal—thanks anyways.”

These small things of appreciation makes your heart flutter, and you’re liking her even more—her respect towards you grows exponentially, and it’s an element you’d grow accustomed to adore. 

You open the door, and let her in like a princess as she playfully remarks, “Oh~ thank you… such a gentleman.”

“Small thing, Winter.” You can see the evident fluster up her cheeks, and you took it as a genuine reply with your actions.You closed her door and got up to your seat as a ding piques your attention.

katarina_for_u at 18:03 - “Fetch me at the resto just meters after the first turn of the university gates. See you, babe ;)”

It’s short and sweet, enough to curl your lips up to a genuine grin. You let Winter know about this, and she just nodded with that ramping vigor, feeling faintly excited with what’s going to happen.

You’re forming this judgment of thrill, anticipation in an all time high.

You’d expect the best to come and it’s yet to extract that ingenuity within you, an emotion sincere.

---

So, everything was just according to her plan? Walking together around and then ending it up with some nice dinner in some classy restaurant was something she was planning? Well, it surely won’t end so anticlimactic even though you enjoyed the talks you had with these beautiful women—some are engaging, little-to-no chances of dull topics and enjoyed it all throughout.

It was pretty tiring right now but not when you’re around them—you feel this surge of energy coursing within you everytime, filling up your tank.

“Oh, unnie’s choices are amazing. From food to places, wow…” 

Karina laughs with Winter’s subtle compliments even though some are probably laced with sarcasm, and you laugh with their playful banters and conversations while keeping your focus on the road. How could they act such dorks and be so unserious when they look like the most modest people that had walked on this planet—maybe, the dualities do wonders and it’s such a great contrast.

“You don’t have to wear something so elegant, Rina.”

“Why not?” Karina’s tone is uplifting, curious on why you would ask such a thing. “This is not even that elegant, but just enough for something classy…”

“Unnie’s probably making herself look more beautiful for you.” Winter adds to the spice of the conversation, which she felt proud with and chuckled right after. Karina’s probably blushing right now with what she had said and given the enlightenment, she’s probably riding with that motive.

Karina pretends to be annoyed with Winter’s remarks, and keeps the vibe lively and delightful as possible. “Yah! I just wanted to dress like this, don’t you like it?”

You’re not going to lie, in every outfit she wears, she kills it everytime and there’s nothing she can’t pull off because of how she’s a natural breed in the world of fashion but you stand with what you said—this looks way too classy but you’re not complaining, she even looks stunning and surreal with this outfit.

“Well, I guess there’s something we needed to do to conclude this day.”

Both you and Winter’s faces contort onto this bewildered expression, utterly curious too as you asked what’s on her mind. 

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll stay at your place for the night—you know, to have some fun, haha…”

That chuckle is nothing close to being innocent. You and Winter probably know this other nature of Karina, and you know this fun she’s describing is involving something that’s off the charts.

You’re hesitant and didn’t lose your focus, a little perplexed why Karina would choose your place for the three of you to stay. “I don’t know, Karina—if you’re pulling up something again, it’ll better to your—”

“Please, babe?” Her tone is enough to make yourself feel endeared and mostly, convinced. Gladly, you can’t see her doe eyes pleading for you or else, you could have lost it and given in immediately—either way, you’ll eventually fall for her spell because she’s that irresistible.

“Okay, it’s fine—but whatever you have in mind, there’s no turning back, alright?” You plant this mischievous smirk curling up your lips and immediately, she knows what you’re talking about even though it wasn’t anything straightforward.

It’s the lust that powers her, and inadvertently, you steal glances with Winter on the front mirror, raising both eyebrows as she knows what’s up with Karina’s plans.

“Of course, well you gotta get that beast ready.”

Right, like you thought about earlier.

---

Events unfolded like the speed of light and it’s deemed to be factual, as actions could make time flow faster than usual. Now at your place, there wasn’t much of something with an introduction and only so subtly. Winter eyes your place and commends how simple and neat everything is and as usual, Karina was frankly remarking everything you needed to know, and how Winter is something more than what you already thought—also, it was clear that she was still naïve with what’s underlying the real thing and everything behind it.

Winter’s shy with Karina’s boldness and she’s not denying anything. All of your assumptions of Winter being just like any other girl was fading as soon as Karina unravels her other nature.

It was a bold and a truthful assumption from your side, clearly thinking that she was all innocent but you never thought the fact her duality can be deceiving. You can’t blame yourself to think Winter just has the same energy as Karina, and the stars could never align so perfectly. You’re also lost within the thought, touching Karina intimately, hands running down her waist as you handle her with that ramping aggression until she stops and inches herself away from you.

Of course everything starts with a little hint of spice, their dispositions clearly shifting and you assure yourself that you’ll get used to both of them being in their own nature with their given sides. 

“Care to eye for some starters, Winter?” Karina raises an eyebrow, clearly willing for an aid to her fantasies.

Winter is thinking, lost in the thought deeply as seconds come by until she parts her lips, “I would want some, yes…”

You thought she wouldn’t care for that, but a visual representation would be the safer bet as echoing what’s said earlier, she's still clearly oblivious about the real thing, assuming the lack of her knowledge of how these things work.

She wouldn’t be up in the ranks if it weren’t for her intelligence, so that assumption was deemed to be proven false.

Karina kneels, looking at you, through your soul as she talks to you about it. “Don’t cum that fast, I’m going to put on a show for Winter here.”

You chuckle, clearly letting herself get ahead and over, and subconsciously admiring her playful intent. “Bold for you to assume that, huh?”

Karina’s mischievous grin was the last thing she flashes you before she could get onto work. The air permeates the cool breeze but is later rivaled with her hands onto your boxers, finger twirling onto your conspicuous tent teasingly. She wouldn’t waste such precious time just to tease a man like you and to her own defense, you’re clearly insatiable.

Both up to the like, every second is golden and shouldn’t wasted—

Karina pulls your boxers down, and down to your ankles they go and kick it off just to the side, deeming it worthless and just a nuisance with your aching tent. You coo with the coldness and moan once she places her hand onto your vigorated length, clearly stroking it to elevate the pleasure.

“Look, Winter…” Karina strokes you in need, spitting onto your cock as every twist and dexterous movements is taken down as a note by Winter, and you can just see her eyes shine with lust and amusement. “See what I’m doing? You just need to rile things up first.”

And she didn’t miss.

Karina’s tongue swirls around the red-purplish crown, and a shudder is your response as well as a faint moan that strokes her ego and a signal of approval. She withdrew her touch from yours and faced Winter, “Your bright mind would take notes of these without my words, hm?”

Karina’s tone wakes Winter up from her not-so-apparent trance of drool, looking at her with such adorable and innocent intent as a nod follows. “Yes, I can, Rina…”

“Call me your unnie for now, would you?” Her face exudes utter seduction, clearly built to be like a charismatic vixen while she asks Winter about this little name-calling. 

Winter nods and Karina curls up a satisfied smirk. “Good… Also, just ask my boyfriend what do you want to call him.”

You’re a little perplexed, unable to even be a step ahead of how you want to be addressed for this moment and with a conclusion, you’d like to see Winter try.

Winter’s eyes expand by a little, hands fidgeting the hem of her jacket as you know how shy she is, given how Karina’s actions are making things awkward but she manages to not let those battles be a hindrance. “How do you want to be called?”

You gulp and try to clear your mind, possibly fighting the urge to moan with Karina’s enervating touches while talking to Winter. “Just call me daddy, okay?”

Winter’s eyes are alluring and those scintillations proved that fact, and you smirk with her apparent nod and with her coy smile. You find your hands combing and caressing Karina’s hair as she slobbers all around your length, hungry and desperate to put a memory for Winter that she would remember until the end of time.

You don’t need to invest into some extensive research to know if Winter’s enjoying this, her subsequent lip bites and eyes laser-focused onto the bobbing figure is enough evidence. 

Karina’s supreme display of talent shows and she knows how to get it done. Picture this, crystal clear: She’s alternating between strokes onto your base and furious bobs, the incredible stimulation of your balls with her hands and the lathered drool seeping out of the caldera of her mouth and all over to her pants. 

The nigh-absence of gag reflex makes the sight even more hotter (the numerous blowjob sessions with her helped a lot) as it allows for more opportunities to display her limits, and so she does.

She’s taking you fully, nose flushed onto your lower abdomen and closing her eyes, testing how far and long she can be in this state. It’s probably eight or ten seconds that had passed and she’s not pulling out, and you decided to do the little game of asphyxiation. Her hands grip your thighs for leverage, nails digging deeper as you pinch her nose, blocking her airways.

It stays for a few more seconds until she’s flushed red, and the inevitable is bound to happen: pulling out of your length and gasping desperately for oxygen.

“Hah—w-what are you doing?” Karina’s visible frustration sends you chuckling, and you reassure and let her know something.

“Don’t you always want that, Rina?”

“God—” Karina hitches a breath, clicking her tongue and she looks up at you, eyes in contact with laced vexation. “—don’t do that! I’m putting up a show for Minjeong here!”

“Hey, uhm—it’s totally fine…” Winter butts in, putting up a halt on an escalating argument as you and Karina’s eyes widen, interesting with the fact that she wants these kinds of stuff.

“You don’t mind the little asphyxiating play?” You ask her, a little bothered by the fact she probably doesn’t like the fetishes. “I’m sorry if it’s—”

“No, it’s really fine!” Winter’s reassuring and bubbly tone makes you conclude up the final verdict, and a sigh leaves your lips regarding that. “I wanna see from you daddy, and Rina-unnie…”

Karina’s hands stroke your rock-hard shaft as the sudden action makes you avert your attention towards her, and her expressions just signifies hubris. You let her know Winter’s wants, and you don’t want it unattended. “You heard her, Rina.”

Karina hisses, and smiles faintly, directing towards Winter. “Use your words, Winter.”

“Please unnie, suck him off.” You heard it loud (mostly it’s faint, but who cares) and clear yet Karina has other plans.

“Can’t quite hear you princess…”

Winter gulps, parting her lips as she raises her voice, “Please suck daddy off, unnie! Want to see everything and your skills, unnie s-so—please!”

This egotistic slut. When in bed, Karina’s becoming a totally different person, gone are her bubbly and loving personalities once she gets to feel or even see your throbbing cock and it’s such an unbreakable spell. 

Knowing Winter’s words is sincere enough, Karina won’t let her deprive off her needs of a tutorial as she takes you in, slowly and sloppier than ever.

A clench, she grips you tighter. A touch, she gives more. A moan, she ups the pace. It’s a given cycle, a wheel spinning around, repeating the patterns that you could never get tired of.

You’re lost under her control yet Winter’s voice piques your attention. “Daddy, why doesn’t unnie gag that much?”

Well, the conclusion is mostly approved—she wasn’t so naïve about these things, huh? 

Your groan, taking a second before you could respond, “Well, Winter—your slutty unnie right here has been blowing my dick for numerous times that she just grew accustomed to it.” Your eye contact with Winter was something enchanting, genuinely delightful seeing how interested Winter is before averting your attention again to the slobbering picture of Karina impaling her throat with your entire length. “You see the way she bobs her head, taking me down fully? That’s how you know she’s a slut for my cock.”

Even if Karina protests, truth is too powerful to be hidden and she wouldn’t pull out to your permeating succulence just because she wants to retaliate in words. 

Karina just dugs deep, messier and god, the sight is turning Winter on so much—knees meeting each other, feet apart as her face just defines lust with the sight.

Curiosity still imbues through Winter, willing to learn from the both of you. “Gagging is just normal when you’re inexperienced, right, daddy?”

You nod, a reassuring action that lets her know about the wonders of such a show. “It’s completely normal—fuck, right, yeah it’s normal, Winter.”

Winter nods as her eyes continue to watch Karina with her oral expertise, pleasuring you with such talent that you can’t define how stupendous she is when she’s on her knees. As much as you like to probably paint her throat white, or the immediate besmirchment of that angelic visage of hers, Winter is the star here and Karina is just a tool for learning.

You tap Karina’s shoulder, and she obliges quickly, knowing how she shouldn’t be rewarded right after. Karina just stands up, looking at you as you giggle, marveling with the fact she did put up one hell of a show for Winter. “You’ll get your reward later, Karina.”

Karina parts her mouth, shaped like an ‘O’ as her eyebrows are raised from the shock. “You know it’ll be better for Winter right here—you’ve rewarded me plenty of times already…”

Karina’s confidence is through the roof, and it’s just a great recipe to be a mentor for an inexperienced Winter.

“Come here, Winter.” Winter stands up from her seat, coming closer to the both of you as immediately, Karina commanded her to kneel down in which she obliges. “You can take it easy first, and when you feel like diving for more, let yourself be, is that clear, Winter?”

Winter nods, pouting her lips as she looks up to you and then, towards her. “Mhm, yes, unnie.”

“Good.” Karina pats Winter on the head, caressing those blonde locks of hers and Karina averted her attention to you, straightforward and clearly leaning for you to handle Winter with care. “And you, use your words, okay? Minjeong likes being praised—strokes her ego definitely, hm?”

You smirk, hubristic towards Karina’s remarks, “Of course I am, and you Winter—” You caress her porcelain cheeks, admiring those innocent face of hers, as she looks up to you, clearly hungry and shy yet you have faith with what she can bring to the table. “—you’ll do great, have trust in you.”

Winter analyzes your length, eyeing every inch as she blows nervous breaths because of what she’s going to be tackling. You saw this and reassured her with your actions of playing with those pigtails, and Karina vocalizes her assurance through words. “You got this Winter, trust yourself.”

A simple nod is what it took before she took a hold of your shaft, from the base and got herself ready for what’s bound to happen. She parts her lips, kissing the head of your cock and you moan with the sensitivity she brings. She alternates between licks and kisses which eventually became redundant, and you wouldn’t complain since you wanted Winter to be comfortable around your length.

She takes your full tip, Karina motivating her with such praise that was evident with the way she works around you. “Great start, Winter, great fucking start.”

Winter hums, vibrations sending waves of gratification all over you as she dives in deeper, then bobbing her head with such a slow pace that you wouldn’t mind. She closes her eyes, feeling every movement devoted to wring out the pleasure within you and it’s effective—she’s a natural at this.

Her tongue works well for a rookie like her, constantly licking your head while she works up her pace moderately. You could feel a little bit of that tooth of her, and you wouldn’t mind that given the fact that it compliments the pleasure she brings—you got that masochistic side in you, too. 

“You can hollow your cheeks if you want, or you can go deeper and keep that pace…” Karina mouths her suggestions, as she bites her lips with Winter’s oral endeavors, absolutely marveling her sullied face full of her spit. She does what Karina told her, coming up on a conclusion that it would elevate both of your experiences with the given situation. 

She does wonders around your throbbing length, creating a vacuum as she hollows those puffy cheeks of hers, and you can sense how she’s been wanting for god knows how long. 

Karina chuckles with your current disposition, succumbs and drowns in the state of bliss but clearly fighting it. If Karina would know how soft, tight and pleasurable Winter is doing around your lengty then wouldn’t be laughing as such.

“Use your words.” Karina tells you, imperatively, about how you can tame Winter and how you can use your advantage against her, benefiting the both of you.

“Such a good girl, Winter—fuck, that’s great.” You can’t manage to lock a gaze onto her bobbing blur, clearly being lost with the pleasure as you savor every second of it. 

Winter achieves greater depths, and eventually, she gagged and tried to tame it but in the end, wasn’t deemed successful.

“Oh shi—fuck, I’m sorry, daddy…” Winter catches her breath, face flushed red as she apologizes more about her sudden testing of her limits. You tilt her chin up, facing you as you smile with her skills given her inadequacy on the real scope of things.

“It’s fine, Winter—you did such a great job for me.”

“Yes, he’s right—you did a fantastic job, Minjeong.” Karina smiled mischievously, patting the back of her head and Winter felt more flustered with it, ears with a rosy hue as both your compliments boosts her mood. 

“I’ll always be a great girl for daddy…” 

She will be. 

Winter gains that confidence, immediately taking you in, more sloppier than before as her pace is fast enough to make a mess out of her mouth. She took mental note from earlier, fondling your balls in aims to draw your orgasm closer, to the edge and you admire her initiative. You continue to caress her blonde locks, even tugging onto those nicely-tied pigtails of hers as Karina whispers in her ear, urging her to do more and make you even writhe under her oral control.

“Swirl your tongue, Winter. Stroke his cock too while you’re at it—he loves it.” You sure do. 

Winter’s tongue dances around the length of your shaft, as her other hand pumps your shaft in an alternating pattern with her bobs. Up, down, then left and right, the sight down below looks like a dream—no one could possibly know how an innocent looking secretary would be such a cockhungry woman and honestly, you’re here for it.

Karina lifts Winter’s chin up, making her break the trance of solely closing her eyes to feel everything, and maintaining that eye contact that you always wanted.

“There you go, he likes it too when both eyes have contact.” You sure do, again. Winter’s eyes glisten under the moderately vibrant lights the room brings, maintaining such eye contact while bobbing her head repeatedly with an intent to please you. You caress her chin and play with hair, even brushing off some strands that get onto her beautiful and ruined countenance. 

Winter gags frequently but she fights it, taming and pushing what she can do and that alone, earns a commending action from her.

She pulls out of her tight encapsulation, eyes lost within yours as she mutters faintly and desperately, “Did I do good, daddy?”

Fuck. They way looked at you, adorably and begging to be ruined could never go wrong. Karina strokes her head, proud for what she's done as you say your own judgment. “Of course you did, Winter—you’re a natural at this…”

The final touch elicits a moan from Winter that makes your cock throb. It was worse when Winter found your length again, handling it and resuming what she’d started.

While being impaled with your shaft inside her heavenly mouth, Winter looks to her right, focused onto Karina as Karina mouthed the words that drop the green light. “Keep sucking him, okay? I’ll make out with him while you’re busy.”

Winter just nods and smiles, mouth full of your cock as your attention is diverted towards Karina, her seductive never failing to make you fall for her as she knows how desperate she became once she saw Winter’s blowjob image.

“Can’t really resist me, huh, Rina?”

She laughs as her hands find their way to your back, inches close towards you as she mouthed such alluring words—her tone clearly helping. “Of course how can I? I can’t just watch my friend here and you having all of the fun yourselves.”

You shake your head, looking at the distance and then back to her eyes, endeared with her scent. “But you literally just sucked my cock like three minutes ago.”

As selfish as she is, you have a point with that yet the three of you deserve equal treatments of pleasure. Karina punches you a little, before maintaining another contact with her that just prepares her for what’s going to happen. “It doesn’t matter—just kiss me, will you?”

Those are words that won’t be left unattended. You push your lips against her, clearly resonating your love and lust for her as every clash results into moans and hums that orchestrate such fine music. The reciprocation was evident, clearly starved with your taste and yearning for more. 

Winter hears all of the cacophonous sounds the both of you make, and she would match the energy the both of you emit. So, without a doubt, she takes you deeper, almost touching the base as she gags and controls herself, fondling your balls with such intent to draw you into your own Achilles’ heel. You sensed what she’s trying to do, resulting in deepening the kiss with Karina, torrid and sloppier as the both of you danced your tongues against each other for the sake of supplementing each other’s deprivation.

The scene is getting hotter than hell, and the scene is portrayed like this: Winter’s hands are just digging her nails deeper onto your thighs as she takes you in, pulling out in random intervals and then taking you in again; such hot exchanges of intimate kisses between you and Karina, even making a mess on both your mouths. Every second is up to all your likings, every movement is deriving pleasure up to the bone, and Karina’s being bolder by the second, unbuttoning your long-sleeved polo and undressing your tie.

She’s swift with it and you could’ve stopped her if you wanted to, but you didn’t care as long as Winter’s worshiping your cock and Karina’s lips tangled against yours.

It’s unholy and angelic, best of both worlds and it’s the first paramount.

Karina pulls out as the both of you exchange breaths, satisfied with such liplocking as her eyes averted towards Winter, who’s been gurgling on your length for minutes now.

“Look at you, Winter! Oh, you’re so messy—lipstick stained onto his shaft, tears flowing down your cheek and the drool—the fucking drool all over it.” Karina is astonished with Winter’s hunger, and the both of you are proud of what delved into, to the point of no-return.

The tumultuous moans of pleasure may seem to meet in a halt, feeling the familiar sensation onto your groins coming closer exponentially as each second passes by.

You’re vocal about it, and Karina seizes this as an opportunity for a choice: “Hear that, Winter? He’s close—so close to cumming.”

“Mhmm—ghh” Inaudible sounds just came out of Winter's mouth, but Karina’s smart enough to decipher and translate such messages. You can’t stop your moans and faint pleas, running your hands through Winter’s locks as you succumb deeper, closer to the promised land.

“Where do you want to finish and give your reward to our princess right here?”

It took you a second, and you stood by it, never hesitating, “Want our pretty Winter here be rewarded beautifully—probably just going to add to the mess her face has right now.”

You always loved painting, especially on a pulchritude of a canvas begging to be spoiled with your own artwork.

Winter pulls out strings of saliva adding to the filthiness as Karina commands her to aid your impending orgasmic high, “Stroke that cock, princess—aim it right at you and embrace it.”

Winter just nods, unable to utter words as her sole focus is to wring out the seed of her hard work, and it’s just within her grasp.

You’re shooting, cumming all over the fine visage of hers, and you repeatedly moan in increasing decibels for such euphoria. Nose, cheeks, hair, neck, even her clothes—you name everything your cum landed on and she’s entirely grateful about it, humming soundly as she gratified to even taste your sweet seed.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Karina interrupts, and Winter smiles at her gleefully as she loves what just happened. 

“I like daddy’s delicious cum, unnie—hah, I n-never thought this could feel great.” An exasperated blow leaves her lips, her hands still tasting the cum that’s painted on her and she still keeps that vibrant, sincere smile since the start. You commanded her to stand up and she does what she’s told, quickly getting up and helping her a little, and expectedly, Karina interrupts with sin spilling out of her very lips. “You know that we’re still not done, right, Winter?”

She gazes at the cum-glistened Winter, eyes meeting hers as her aura alone intimidates the both of you, most likely yours. Winter pouts her lips, looking down as she faints a reply, “Of course, unnie…”

Karina nods, parting her lips as she turns back to you and you anticipate what can come out of her lips. “Tell her what you want to experience, Winter.”

Winter’s lips quiver, eyebrows furrowed as she felt the slightest of that progressing nervousness. “I want to f-feel you, daddy…”

You grab her wrists, leaning her petite frame towards you, dangerously close as you run your fingers through her fair complexion, cleaning her off and then directing it onto her mouth. She obliges, sucking onto your fingers and feeding her starvation as Karina strokes her hair, mouthing the words Good girl repeatedly—it’s a chant to tame and make her as pliant as possible, and it’s absolutely effective.

Karina kisses her nape, earning a squirm under her touch as you continue cleaning her off, aiming to unsoil to make yourself in awe over her ethereal face. “Tell me something, Winter—” She continues suckling onto your fingers, savoring every second that counts that plunges her mouth. “—like everything you want to happen…”

You pull out of her mouth’s embrace, uttering needy moans and whines escaping Winter’s lips as Karina encourages her. “Come on, Minjeongie—don’t be shy and let it all out.”

Karina’s voice melts Winter to the point that she could just stare at you, utter need with her eyes and laced with lust. She continues to moan with Karina’s frequent latches onto her pristine skin, calling her name as she draws herself closer to you, and you handle her with care, both hands onto her waist and inviting her. “You don’t mind leaning in for a kiss, won’t you?”

Winter’s breath brush against yours, knees shuddering with the sensitivity the both of you are bringing as Karina speaks for her. “She wouldn’t mind it—she’s been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

Winter can’t look at you, with her eyes closed, ending up in a predicament because of a profound confession which her friends say out loud, vocally. You tease her, shaking your head to play with her and she just lets out more gasps as Karina roams her hands all over Winter’s exposed skin. “Look who’s a needy, naughty girl, Winter, hm?”

Winter just drowns your eardrum with a pool of dulcet moans, a candy you’ll love to indulge on. It was eargasmic, as someone may say and Karina can confirm it, continuous with her worshiping and audacious advances. She tugs Winter onto hers, gaining control over your dominance as she hikes her skirt a little and then caresses her thighs, her name ringing like a chant on Karina’s ear.

Winter just hums, unable to speak with your lips clashed against hers, hands cupping her cheeks and delving deeper. It wasn’t voracious like you did with Karina, but more to let Winter undergo an unforgettable memory on how great this is. Karina’s a little left behind, feeling the both of you are exuding such hotness that baffles Karina and she loves to play alongside it—she keeps marking her neck and her nape, not enough to leave some hickeys but enough to elicit muffled sounds sequestered with your own lips. 

Karina wants Winter to experience one hell of a night, and it’s a great start to let her hands wander around the lace of her panties, and onto that permeating heat of hers. Winter involuntarily moans through your lips, her arms wrapping around your waist tighter than before and Karina’s movements just sets gasoline to the flames.

The squelch makes your cock twitch and regain its vigor, and Karina was aware of this and whispered such sinful words to Winter. “Stroke his cock, princess—and I’ll finger you too so the both of you can experience the same height of pleasure.”

You heard Karina’s exchange of filthy temptations onto her ear as you grab Winter’s hand, directing them onto your invigorating length and without a hesitation, she pumped your shaft like she has something to prove. Well, she’s apparently building such a great foundation for the pillars of her prize—the golden words of your approval and satisfaction, even though you’ve said it multiple times.

Like what Karina said earlier—Winter likes to be praised at most times—was a factual statement and it was evident when she felt more rejuvenated when Karina motivated her. You hum with her given reciprocations as it is chaste yet heartfelt, hitting the right spots of fulfilling her deprivation. 

She’s such a fucking natural, because the way she was enveloping your lips immediately after such momentary pull-out was enough to impress you and so did Karina.

Karina continued her leisurely attempts of teasing Winter’s folds, mouthing words that accelerated the constant rate of pleasure coursing through her. “I think you’re ready to be fucked with how wet you are, princess.”

It just made clench harder, and Karina smirks knowing it’s her kryptonite. Being called names defining how obedient she is just states the fact about her certain fetish, and Karina knows how to exactly push her buttons.

You pull out of her lips’ tight embrace, tucking her hair behind her ear, and you conclude your own verdict with Karina’s words. “Oh—you’re dying to be fucked, did I hear that right, Winter?”

Winter nods, a sly smile curling her lips as she continues to pump you, yet you hinder it with your own hands as you’re saving up such a progression for what will happen later. “Yes, daddy—I fucking want it s-so much…”

Karina laughs, knowing how sincere Winter’s pleas are. “She isn’t lying—she’s fucking wet just saying that alone.”

Winter’s subsequent faint moans was a reply to Karina’s repertoire of skills, plunging deeper and swiping it up and down, making Winter’s brain go haywire. Absolutely making yourself feel such libido skyrocketing, you savor the moment of two of the hottest and prettiest girls you’ve ever known making a mess for you to drool on (mostly it’s Winter being spoiled and all-too-filthy). 

It is their moment, clearly the other giving it all and the other all to receive and fuck, it’s such a hot sight. You can’t tame yourself to just be a bystander and with a single tug onto Winter’s hem of her skirt, you asked her. “May I?”

“Mhm, daddy—hah…” You then pull her panties, and down to her ankles thanks to gravity, making the scene double the damage as you play with her glistening clit. It feels like she’s just programmed to moan on a constant loop, never-ending as both your fingers stimulate her to the roof.

Karina lets out a sigh, feeling the air inside the rook is getting humid with all of your combined hotness. “Looks like this is the best time to strip, especially in front of the both of you.”

You’d never thought this day would be any better without another show from Karina’s seductive expertise. You’d not put any of your responsibilities in mind if the both of them will be your way to pass the day and let yourself be aware of this: they are intoxicating and insatiable, and you can’t seem to see yourself hesitating.

Karina undresses her blazer-like top, tossing it somewhere and then goes to another set of clothing and it’s such great fuel to keep you going. You kiss Winter’s collarbone as you eye Karina’s stripping, feeling every graceful movement of her sends you into hypnosis but you’re sturdy enough to fight it. You keep your fingers thrusting into Winter’s tightness, your length persistently throbbing as you do your work and you are perplexed when her faint voice breaks your trance. “Isn’t unnie the hottest—ohh, girl on the p-planet?”

You look into her eyes, those glistening orbs tend to allure people including you, and you could just mutter the truth right in front of her. “Both of you are, Winter.”

Winter’s genuine grin with a hint of modesty could never fail to make you fall for her charm. Swift like the wind, Karina’s only left with her lingerie as you stop her when she’s about to reach for her heels, opting for a way that could relive your prolonging fetishes.

“Leave the heels on, please, Karina.”

Her face just exudes the brattish attitude and that everlasting hubris you always adore whenever it breaks, eyebrows raised as she feels like this wasn’t expected. “Why though? It’s not like you’re gonna fuck me, also, not with these on—”

“But I will.” The girls were flummoxed with your decision (mostly Winter) as Winter’s eyes craved for your attention towards her, hands roaming onto your back with a goal to know what might happen.

“You’re going to fuck unnie?” God, you could never fully fathom the fact that such sinful words could leave those innocent lips of hers, but that was such a false assumption as the earlier session says otherwise. It’s still perplexing to say the least, and you love it—you love how she’s gaining more confidence as she gets comfortable with the grasp of events that’s occurring.

You cradle your hands between her waist, flashing a smile. “I’m going to fuck your unnie, Winter—” Her eyes gleam the undying lust, in utter need as she anticipates what’s going to happens and what you’re aware of is that Winter knows how you’ll handle Karina up to your own accord. “—and I hope that’ll make you wetter once it’s your turn.”

You don’t even need that kind of an introduction if she’s already drenched, the repetitive music of her squelches with Karina’s control strengthens the claim. At this moment, you’re just making things in her favor and testing what she can bear, just by voyeur for the time being, on the front seat..

“Karina, come here.” Winter draws back, sitting at the bed as Karina swifts its way onto you and you’re handling her with such ferocity that even galvanizes Karina, eyes widening and hands over your waist. 

“You’re such a pervert, y’know that?”

“Well—” You yank Karina’s wrists, putting them in place and she whines needily. She doesn’t need to say that, and she knows how you’ll always think about ruining her whenever she’s all stripped like this—just with her lingerie and her heels exudes such elegance that is dying to be sullied. “—I’ll let Winter know how much of a slut her best friend is.”

Winter laughs and with her regained confidence and comfort as she adds, “Unnie even told me how you’re always making her cum so much…”

Karina glared at Winter playfully, shocked at how bold and vocal Winter is. You smack Karina’s buttcheeks with power enough to make her wince in pain, and right after, smiling with the pleasure it brings. You stare at her eyes, and all you can see is the glistening of her pupils desperate to feel you yet she masks it with the smirks and possibly a stern face. Her hands aren’t idle, running down your back as you feel yourself at the peak of such sensation that no one can stop you. “Turn around and bend over to that table, right now.”

Karina laughs, surprised with your immediate commanding nature and Winter is feeling the need to unveil Karina’s true nature in front of hers eyes. Without any hesitation, Karina bends over the desk and spreads her legs open, laying flat on her stomach and her legs standing onto the floor.

You’ll promise that once you’re done with her, those legs wouldn’t stand so robustly, and would be precarious for her to know who owns her. “Put on a show for our princess here, babe.”

Karina’s choice of names and words never ceases to amaze you or rile you up, as her eloquence in the field of seduction should be studied—maybe Winter can learn a thing or two with her, but what she’ll learn now will be more than that. Karina wiggles her ass, arms grabbing on both sides of the table and with her current position, you can’t be distracted with anything other than drooling and eyeing every inch of her faultless, pristine body that’s sculpted by the gods above.

The fine plane of her figure bent down, pressed on her weight is such a sight that tests temptation and the utter need to use her. She’s so vulnerable and she loves it. You make her wince in pain with your deafening spanks and she drips uncontrollably. Your hands strip Karina’s panties, just down to her hamstrings and immediately, you’re invited with her dripping heat, yearning for your contact. You swipe the slit with your fingers, probably four times, in an up and down motion and then teased her puckered hole that eases up once you plugged your thumb in it.

“God—I—s-still can’t believe you’re so good at this.” Barely registering and occupied with repeated motions on her heat, you continue your assaults onto her cunt, moans bound to spiral out of control whenever the time comes.

You smile with profound confidence, knowing you’re the best she ever had. “Of course, just gonna make this cunt wet enough for the taking.”

Karina repeatedly whines, her arms wagging a little due to the immense pleasure she’s experiencing. You steal ephemeral glances to Winter, touching herself with the sight and god, it’s just making you throb more.

You can’t resist it anymore as the teasing suddenly ends up on a halt, and it was for the better. Karina grips the table harder, feeling the euphoria creating an endless stream of moans that fill your desires to even plunge more into her. 

You are slow, savoring every thrust as Karina was eager to let you know who she is. “Fill me up and fuck me hard—fuck me hard enough for Winter to drool on—oh!”

She’s still able to articulate eloquent words but that wouldn’t be happening when you’re in control. Knowing how vigorous Karina is and is up for the maximum taking, you slap her hips and use it as leverage to start the climax of the show. Her frame moves in tandem with your powerful thrusts, a motion to hypnotize you but ends up on her side—she’s gaining this stupor disposition whenever you’re getting balls-deep inside her.

A symphony was created, and a rhapsody lasts for an eternity and it’s simply with your hurried pumping, uttering such sinful sounds coming out from both your lips and with the given pace, she’s liable to give out.

She probably is, heels repeatedly clicking onto the marbled tiles was enough of an answer, knees shaking as you give your hundred percent, and in return, is mutual. You run your hands onto the pristine skin of her ass, giving another smack that makes her clench uncontrollably around your hammering length. You are rapid and destroying her tight, little cunt in every possible second and you can just see Winter in your peripherals, a faint blur as she fingers herself and frantically moaning with the sight.

“God—this is so good—so fucking good—hah!”

“Now Winter knows how much of a slut you really are. You’re commanding and strict outside, even on the campus with your name but when you’re with me, you suddenly give yourself, huh?” A smack, a strike resembling an immediate response but is unable to, moans outpower what she would like to say. 

She’s wet and it’s better for you, knowing how you can glide easier into her tight cavern, filling it up to the brim and making her think of you only. 

Another strike and she whimpers, “Asked you a question, didn’t I?”

“Was i-it—hah—even a questio—ahh!” You pull her hair, continuously ramming her cunt and demanding an answer coming from her lips. 

“I said what I fucking said, Karina.” It was stern, composed and filthy. Your words are scarce with mercy and bring an ounce of pity. You’re harsh, orchestrating the way she’ll reply with your thrusts and it’s not helping her, not when her moans become borderline screams caused by her extravagant waves of pleasure.

She’s dripping, and you can see it whenever you eye her buttcheeks jiggle with the force you’re exerting, clearly spoiling the floor. She raises her legs constantly, succumbing to the pleasure as every clack her heels make just adds to the cacophonous sounds of sex that fills the tension inside this room.

Winter’s eavesdropping could not be any better, every squelch and clap resulting from repeated thrusts inside her cunt. You’d probably say Karina would forget that she exists in this room, not when you’re fucking her up even mentally with how you tell your own pace.

You can feel Karina’s close, dangerously close as she lets you know that, unable to hold it in and eager to give it all out. 

“So close, babe—fuck m-me up real good!” You grip her hips harsh enough to possibly leave a bruise, baragging her cunt with an onslaught of thrusts and eventually it wasn’t far from her triumphant roar, a scream signifying her final blow.

Thrusts are relentless and the inevitable does meet its fate, giving another set of hammerings before pulling out (it hurts to do so, but you’re dying to see her cunt spew mountains of her juices) and there she goes, letting everything out. She gasps with the high she’s experiencing, and you lean in on her to kiss her silky skin, peppering it with kisses that just makes your libido reach heights and stay there.

“Oh shit—fuck!” Karina whimpers, lips quivering as she looks over to her shoulder, still enervated with her recent orgasmic trance. She gets up with the help of her own arms, legs wobbling a little as she’s regaining her energy slowly, facing you with a sweet smile. 

“Winter’s right actually—you’re always cumming so fucking much whenever I pound you silly.”

Karina’s a little hypocrite, not letting her ego be shattered and most likely, her dominant façade breaks loose. 

“Whatever—well, I believe we got our main course right here.” Karina’s head shook, and her eyes directed towards Winter and with Karina’s words, she knew what’s bound to happen and you let your hunger take over you.

“Get up and take off that skirt, Winter.” It was dominant and provocative, but it’s going to be benefiting the both of you. You’ll bet your whole life and will win if Winter’s wet and without even telling nor showing anything, you could feel how wet she is, especially on how you used Karina’s pussy like it’s the final minutes of the world.

And it was set up all too well, Winter whimpering as the cool air blows her skin, feeling more sensitive as she exposes more of that desired treasure. 

Skirt’s on the floor and off to somewhere else, a worthless piece of clothing and it was just the tip of the iceberg. With her damp slit now on full display, you let her spread her legs a little and Karina interrupts and guess what, this is a hidden gem for what Winter is about to experience. “Need to get your pussy nice and wet, hm? You wouldn’t mind that won’t you.”

Winter moans with Karina’s efforts, feeling every movement prone to break her apart as she thrusts her fingers up Winter’s walls from behind, mischievously grinning and chuckling seeing Winter sullies herself, bit by bit. The scene could never go wrong, dripping Winter’s juices onto her thighs as she grows drenched by the second, and you eyes her every inch and think how beautiful it is to ruin such a pure, pristine girl breathing in innocence.

You can’t say that now, not when Karina’s almost a knuckle-deep inside Winter and your cock teasing just near the vicinity of her folds.

“Breathe and feel everything, princess.” Karina whispers into her ear, earning a faint Yes from Winter and she just adds to the endless flow of moans and even messes up her own slit.

“I guess you’re ready now, Winter.” She’s barely standing straight for two reasons: one would be her knees giving up, failing her as she succumbs to the pleasure; and two, would be with the way you and Karina are handling her.

The climax starts, and you’re going to give her the best night she will never dare to forget, and let it etch into her brain.

Karina swipes her finger frantically for one last time, before you could take control by laying her back onto the bed. All you can do is be mesmerized with the vulnerable state she is in, laid down and you’re in full control over her. She chuckles with the heat permeating with your own touch, a little ticklish but that’ll do the trick and all you can sense the anticipating seeping in her pupils. You take a look over her impeccable features, the curves and the petite frame down to her waist was enough to make you drool, wanting to strip all of it but this outfit looks way too great on her to be deemed soiled.

She gasps, moans and you reply with control and dominance, slowly pushing your way in as she continuously whimpers. She writhes a little, on the verge of tears on how great it feels when it’s the real thing and you won’t give in to your feral thoughts on wrecking her like what you did to Karina.

“Does it feel good, Winter?” Karina leans onto the bed, whispering again with that sultry voice of hers. Winter just nods and is unable to let out coherent sentences when you’re inside her tightness.

“You know what? Winter’s fucking tight—god!” You exclaim, genuine with your words as it feels as heavenly as Karina. You insert more than half and Winter groans and pleads you for more, composing her breaths as she takes you like a champ.

“So good, daddy! So, so, good—mmh…” 

“See? Taking that big cock of hers isn’t so easy, Winter, but you’ll get used to it once you get yourself comfortable.” Karina reassures her and believes she can take it all, and knowing how determined Winter is with all of her encouragement (most likely known as her moans of need) was enough to know she wants more.

You take a hold of her hips, legs now wrapping around your waist with a given set of thrusts just to get herself accustomed to your length. You’re not filling her up to the hilt, but more than half is inserted in every thrust you do, bringing waves of pleasure up in every inch of her body, closing her eyes to feel and cherish every second. Her legs flail in response with your thrusts, gripping onto the sheets for leverage and with the sheer power of each hard thrust, desperate and exhausted moans escape her lips. Karina’s voice encouraging and schooling Winter becomes a faint noise on your ears, too occupied with the fact that you’re pumping your length inside her impossibly tight cunt.

You’ll push it up, pull it up and you’re going to get it done—this just remarks the beginning of the reckoning, and you could just see yourself growing the pace within seconds.

“I never—I’ll watch Winter getting fucked by my boyfriend right here—doesn’t feel it good, hm, princess?” Karina fixes Winter’s hair, tucking it at the back of her ear as her ruined visage makes Karina in awe. Winter could just nod and mutter a faint Yes before moaning again with your moderate thrusts, achieving depths that’s almost the limit. 

“Oh god—” You plunge more as per her requesting tone between pleas, making her utter words that aren’t articulately thought about at this point. “—you’re stretching me o-out, daddy!”

“That’s the spirit, princess.” Karina ends it up with a sinister grin, satisfied with the way you’re treating her as her innocence should be kept at bay and wiped, and it’s slowly going towards that way given your pace. Her thighs jiggle with your moderate pursuit onto her heat as she clenches once you run your fingers towards the pristine skin of her cheeks and onto her puckered hole. You groan with your given thrusts and wanting to savor the moment truly, you ask Winter with lust laced on every word, “Do you want me to go deeper, Winter?” 

Your hands then roam on her arms, gaining control and feeling the silkiness of every inch, smooth to the touch and aiding the tension between the both of you. Your words just made Winter clench so tight that you elicited a soft moan that was a candy to both of their ears.

Karina adds, her words flaming up the fire of lust in her brain. “He’ll go deeper in you and you’re going to take it like a good girl, right?”

Another saccharine word strokes Winter’s ego, and it’s just making her behave under both your controls (mostly yours). Winter’s eyebrows furrowed, looking at Winter with intent so desperate for more. “Yes—fuck, yes, unnie…”

Karina flashes another satisfied smile for the umpteenth time, signaling her delight with Winter’s submission and all you can feel is Karina tapping onto your shoulder, whispering onto your ear, “Fuck her silly and hard, like how she deserves it.”

You know Winter earned it, taking you like a good girl and how obedient she is strengthens the deal. You rivaled your moderate pace earlier, now ramping up and getting that momentum flowing, ramming her tight cunt in an mind-boggling pace that just uttered the most sinful and neediest moans known to mankind—Winter’s pitch of her tone makes it up to the submissive demeanor she already has, right from the start.

You’re doubting if you could go harsher with your pace, knowing how cautionary when Winter breaks apart and unable to take it all, yet it’s those moans that eliminate these thoughts of yours. Each moan inviting you to thrust in harder and with her repeated pleas, you could only oscillate harsher movements.

“God, she’s creaming like crazy onto your cock, babe—look at her!” Karina gasps after that, a little surprised at how Winter is forming rivulets of her juices and it just made it easier to glide in and withdraw, a repeated process that felt like hours. 

You’re now in this constant state of fighting to ruin her truly, inviting her to the succumb onto the abyss of primal bliss, swimming onto it as you plunge her up to the hilt and with their voices forming a discordant sound aiming to break against your temptation, it wasn’t going to be a hard choice.

“Mo—more, daddy!” It’s the simple pleas like that keeps you going, clapping her hard against the mattress and as a result, gripping the sheets tighter that it may almost tear apart. There’s maybe ways to exert more power in her throat, accumulating such power to elicit more high-pitched moans and as much as they’re probably deafening, and a nuisance to the neighbors, one conclusion would be made up: it’s heavenly and musically dissonant.

“Karina…” You call her name, grunting a little as she looks up at you with such innocence—it’s unbelievably contradictory, the sight of her neck down says so—laced on her eyes. “Care to let Winter’s mouth work onto something?”

Karina responds with actions, quick to shut Winter up with her fingers that Winter enthusiastically sucked on. It was a ballistic approach but it’s aiding her an outlet to control herself and suppress the repeating resonating sounds. 

All of you are sweating—mostly you, profusely—as the heat was too much to handle and it’s the greatest element of such a sinful event for the fact it just signifies the hotness the three of you emit. Karina inserts another finger, further amplifying the tension as Winter sucks on it like it’s her favorite lollipop, or the best case scenario here, like your succulent cock.

Karina’s fingers are probably soaked in saliva, Winter’s mouth becoming messier just made Karina think of something that will even test Winter’s capabilities and limits. Winter hums and squirms with fingers lodged into her mouth, and given the frequent movements you do, Karina thrusts her fingers onto Winter’s mouth, working alternately with your hips. Winter gags a little, repeated and then frequently, as Karina’s soothing voice trains her to tame it and be composed. 

“It’s fine, princess—work it up for me. Close your eyes and just feel it.” Winter eventually embraces the fact that she’s gagging in every thrust Karina does, and she’s doing everything in her power to tame it and it’s not helping when you’re fucking her brains out. 

Even with your thrusts laced to break, she remains vigorous and it’s really commendable—the way she’s taking every thrust burns a mental image in you that would scare you for life, in a great way. Winter is now holding onto Karina’s arm, gripping tighter by the second, still bobbing her head onto Karina’s fingers and eventually, Karina pulls out and Winter whines with her actions.

“I w-wanna—fuck! Wanna suck, p-please!” 

“Oh, you needy, slutty princess… How the world made you, hm?” Those pleas are not going to be left unattended as Karina resumes plunging her mouth with her saliva-sheathed fingers, sucking and squirming onto it as it just made her even wetter. The repeated clenching and the disheveled look of Winter makes you throb hard, yet speaking of such impending orgasm, you could feel Winter’s getting closer.

“I think Winter’s gonna cum, Rina.” Ragged breaths come right after, a little spent but ultimately alternating between a slow and rapid pace to catch yourself some breather. You can tell how close she is, and wanting Winter to savor the moment of what could be the most euphoric experience that she’ll feel in her whole life. Karina pulls out of the heat of her mouth, tracing her collarbones and teasing, just to get herself riled up for what’s bound to be inevitable.

Winter’s plethora of moans lets you chase her high, fucking her mercilessly as Karina exclaims, wanting to capture a sight that’ll be a core memory for the three of you. “Pull out—pull out! Want her to squirt all over your cock, babe.”

You heard her and immediately obliged, and you could see the most sinful she’s ever become: her folds glistened, and eventually erupted like a volcano that messes up everything in its vicinity. She moaned uncontrollably, calling you for three times as she rode out her high, catching herself some oxygen as her orgasmic trance puts her on a stupor that’s making her feel spent up. 

You let her recover, brushing your cock up against her gushing folds and even felt concerned with her current state. 

“Winter, a-are you alright?”

“Y-Yes, I’m fine…” Winter sniffles, crying with the overwhelming emotions she’s feeling. You felt bad for going too berserk over her tightness, but with her petite frame still begging to be used, you know remorse would be the last thing you’ll ever consider. 

“Tell it to him, princess—tell him what you want him to do.” Karina’s voice regains Winter’s senses, looking at you as her puppy-eyes begs you for something you can’t decline. 

“Please f-fuck me again, daddy…” Winter’s legs shake, quivering as she feels vulnerable and blissful, and she loves it (at least her smile says so).

“More, princess—what exactly do you want to earn?” Karina’s unlocking her deepest desires, and it’s only a matter of time before you become aware of it (it’s most likely predictable at this point).

“Daddy’s cum…” God, her voice just made you throb repeatedly, that submissive, soft voice of hers is enough to be enlightened with her message. 

“Where do you want it exactly, hm??” Karina faces you, then Winter, eyes anticipating an answer seeking reward and the utter fulfillment of the prophecy.

There Winter goes, predictable and relentless with her words.

“Inside me.”

Inside her, she says.

“You heard our princess, babe.” Karina’s lips brush ever so slightly onto your earlobe, whispering as her voice sounds like the devil making you give up to your temptation and as the endgame, you give in. “Don’t hold back and give her a deserved reward.”

That, you’ll do.

Done stroking your length, you insert it in her once again and still groan with her unparalleled tightness, and Winter immediately voiced out the pleasure you bring. She grips onto the sheets again, making her legs wrap around your waist again, locking you in place as you continue with your expertise. 

Your arms then reach for hers, Winter then grabbing onto it like she’s clinging for her life, ensuing a reckless pace that just uttered the most sinful moans she could ever produce. You’re lifting her by a little, head throwing back and hanging a little on the air as she bounces in tandem with your repeated thrusts. Karina then latches her lips onto your back and shoulders, peppering it with kisses and worshiping every inch, feeding her hunger as your insatiability helps.

“My god, babe—you may actually fuck her senseless and put her into sleep.” Karina’s a little bewildered and feral with the way you’re handling Winter, and how Winter’s expression perfectly resembles a face of submission: mouth ajar, continuous with the moans, eyes slightly open and closing, disheveled blonde locks that’s still put in place with her pigtails and the utter mess onto her sullied face.

In other words, her image is now ruined, all thanks to you. She’s grateful for what she has become and fully embraces it—a mindless fucktoy that’s hungry for your cock.

It wasn’t far off before you can feel yourself near, close enough for Winter to embrace the inevitable. You let her go, and Winter thuds onto the mattress, moaning in pain and pleasure with each other movement your hips do. Karina’s hands roam down to your abdomen, caressing, flickering and teasing you to urge for your release and her words send your walls crumbling down: “Aren’t you close, babe? You seem to be groaning more than usual.”

You wince, lips quivering as you face her and god, her contact is enough to melt you. “I’m fucking c-close—yes.”

Karina smirks, hands roaming down towards your ramming length and was enthusiastic she could pull such a trick up her sleeve. “Great, now stop fucking her and let me do something.”

You appear to be puzzled, unsure of what she’s about to enlighten you but you did what she said, compliant and at Karina’s end, satisfied. “Don’t pull out—just leave the tip inside.”

There wasn’t a single idea embarked in your mind, but once she held your cock with vice grip and started stroking it vigorously, you know what she wants to pull off.

“That’s right…” Karina’s mouth is agape, eyeing your expressions as she strokes you into your own euphoric high, and Winter’s moans of encouragement just adds fire, mustering a velocity up at her wrists’ limits. “Fucking cum for me, babe—cum inside that tight, little pussy of our princess.”

Her words are like a fuse, and with the constant squelching of her dexterous fingers sets up a nice combination for the formula of your release.

“Cum for me, babe—fill her pussy up.”

A concoction signifying your awaited release, relentless with her wrists and her fingers and suddenly—

Winter cries, Karina grips tight and you elicit the reward of your hardwork and it ultimately pays off: Winter writhing as you deposit every thick spurt, forming rivulets down to the sheets when it's probably the penultimate second of your high. You never thought this would be such a hot sight to engrave your mind with and you’re honestly grateful for unlocking another one—this delves down to your trophies of Karina’s victorious intelligence, feeding the cabinet full of it as she brings another fetish down to the table.

You’re always winning, and you got to thank Karina with that.

“Fucking hell, Rina—shit, that’s hot…”

Karina’s hubris is stroke, smiling genuinely with the fact that this ticked one of your boxes. “Of course you’ll like this.”

This is a new element of surprise that you always love Karina for, and with that given uprising of emotions, you lunge in and give her some torrid kisses as she’s quick to reciprocate with it. Your cock still throbs in the air, dripping with Winter’s juices and you cum, and to your surprise, you could only sense a hand stroking it and humming onto Karina’s lips because of it. 

A faint voice rings in your eardrums, mellow and sinful, just soothing your nerves. “May I please suck it, daddy?”

Of course, it’s Winter with her whole, new self, utterly ruined and confident with her new persona. You keep indulging onto Karina’s scrumptious lips, hands groping her voluptuous tits and caressing them until she pulls out, a moan escaping her mouth before she remarks, “Let her be, babe.”

You groan with the sensitivity, but if it’s Winter practically begging for your length to be tasted then you would comply with her needs. “I didn't say like I won't let her do it.”

You keep playing with Karina’s mounds, earning the faintest yet hottest moans imaginable and with the given signal, Winter indulges again, shifting her body just to be at the edge of the bed, facing your cock. She does her job, flicking her tongue and taking you halfway and with the warmth she brings, you moan in unison with Karina’s.

“Take off this bra, Rina—want to see your fucking tits.”

Karina laughs, knowing how it’s such a ubiquitous move to say those words so aggressively. “Then do it—ahh, no one’s stopping you.”

You grit your teeth, drooling with the sight of her bare tits palmed against your hand, cupping and squeezing them like those are your favorite stress balls—probably the best in the table, unbeatable and in its own league. With a swift motion, you unclasped her bra, legs shuddering a little because of Winter’s audacious pace and it’s such a great addition. You’re instantly met with her taut nipples, probably feeling the breeze the room emanates as all of your hotness rivals it. Free of its frustrating restraints, you admire every inch of it, feeling it as Karina moans with your advancements.

“Keep playing with my tits, babe—fuck, so good!” Her conspicuous amusement fuels you, and you stimulate her more with a tight pinch on her taut buds, earning more sultry moans leaving her lips. Winter just keeps the pace moderate, running her tongue all around your still throbbing length, savoring every inch and humming onto its succulence.

Every second that probably happens in this room is just sinful, and it’s mesmerizing how the three of you are managing to be incredibly consistent with it. Winter’s constant bobbing alleviates the sensitivity, now translating onto pleasure as you continue playing on her mouthwatering mounds, but before you continue, Karina has an idea on her mind.

“You can actually j-just—fuck, that’s great—uhm, fuck my breasts with that cock of yours.”

That’s an idea. Possibly enlightening and tempting, but you’re not the only one with a trick up your sleeve, and let herself know that yours is loose and copious. 

“No, Rina—join Winter, on your knees.” Karina’s face paints another visible surprise, and Winter stops and withdraws with a loud pop.

“Well, I can’t turn that down.” Karina then cups your balls, fondling with the slightest of efforts and she knows that the three of you aren’t done yet. “Your balls are still pretty full, too. We’ll stop until they’re fully drained and sore.”

Karina kneels before uttering another set of words that made your length inevitably throb. “Fuck my tits when you’re about to finish.”

That, you’ll wholeheartedly do. The sight is just genuinely impure, Karina kneels down alongside Winter, and gets onto work without any hesitations. They face your purplish crown, and suckled onto it vigorously and with passion laced in every second they do such sin. 

There weren’t any introductions for you to keep yourself accustomed to them nor any teasing, and immediately, Winter peppers your shaft with kisses up to the base, and Karina immediately latches her tongue to paint her own drool all over your engorged tip, marking her territory. They’re filthy with each second the counts, bringing up an undistinguishable mess on your shaft and with their hunger for your length, it’s clearly shown how diligent their movements are. 

“S-Shit—you two, oh god…” Moans are erratic, breaths are ragged as their oral expertise is clearly displayed, making you feel such stimulation that’s making you feel the utmost gratification. Karina’s tongue kept dancing onto your head, moving on to move deeper whilst Winter averted her attention to your balls, sucking on each one with care and utter depravity. 

You just know, that’s you at the top of the world right now and that’s what really matters—it’s stated as a fact with the given sight of these two phantasmagoric girls worshiping your length and need with their actions involving lust. You kept moaning their names, hands caressing and playing with their hair as Karina eventually pulled out, mouthing her satisfaction with the sight. 

“Who would have thought this would be fun, hm?”

“Literally all of us, Rina—shit, keep doing that Winter.” You’re not wrong and hers is a rhetorical question. It doesn’t matter at this point, not when your brain is clouded with their dexterous fingers and their talented mouths pleasuring you in the filthiest ways imaginable. Winter strokes your base, hand gripping your thighs as she now takes your length, and Karina makes herself occupied onto sucking those swollen balls of yours.

It’s alternating between who’ll take you and it’s commendable how they manage to choreograph the flow of their oral assault to you with their minds poisoned with their own hunger for your cock. Winter’s a given natural and Karina’s an experienced one, which just concludes to the fact that their dynamic is just the best in these situations—there are plenty of other things their dynamic is great at, yet this one, is off the charts.

The fire of lust in you sets ablaze, and you know something coming neat with the given warning. “You girls—I’m g-gonna fucking cum if you keep doing this.”

Miraculously, they aren’t as selfish as you thought they would be, instantly popping out of your nether region and with the given fate that’s written, it’s up for you to fulfill it. “Oh babe, you gotta fuck my tits first, remember?“

Of course you do, you’re even dying to feel those pillowy mounds wrapped around your length and feel its incredible warmth. “Like I would forget that, Rina.”

“God, you’re gonna finish on unnie’s tits, daddy?” It never fails to amaze you how the submissiveness of Winter makes you crumble down your defenses, ultimately being mellow with her with the lustful energy still permeating within you. 

“Yes, Winter—I’m going to paint her tits pearly white, every inch, if possible.” Whenever it's possible, you’ll do it. You know it wouldn’t be such a copious amount of your load but you’re getting the job done, no matter what. Karina then looks up at you, with an intent on making fall down to her control as she raises her ass little, still kneeling and with her breasts aligned with your wet, throbbing cock, shs wouldn’t waste a single second enveloping you with her pillowy flesh.

It’s fucking euphoric how the heat of her mounds wraps around your length, just in the right of amount of tightness as she squeezes her tits with all her might and you gladly appreciate it. Winter then goes onto her back, her frame pressed against Karina’s back and starts helping to stimulate her, pinching her nipples and applying a pushing pressure to wrap you around like a fleshlight. 

You move, dictate a pace and instantly groan with the sensitivity yet you don't care, because you’re dying to release everything you can onto a canyon of her cleavage. Thanks to the aided lubrication their mouths brang earlier, it wasn’t an issue elevating the pace, grasping her shoulders as you thrust in and out like it’s just her tight cunt all over again. Karina even moves herself in accordance to your pace, also desperate for another filthy load as she moans with Winter’s approaches, playing with her mounds and making her experience the same tempo of pleasure as you.

The crescendo hits, hitting the climax with such a tremendous pitch with Winter’s constant pinching, earning such a borderline scream from Karina that even pleads you for more.

“God, please, babe—your cock—so good around my tits, shit!”

You’re sweating, focused solely invested into achieving your own high as you bent your knees a little, gaining yourself leverage for a better pace. “These tits are fucking perfect around my cock, yes!”

It’s just another filthy picture imprinted into your brain, completely lost with her hypnotizing flesh gliding complimentary with your length as you could feel the euphoric experience on its near demise. Karina would even flick her tongue when your tip hit near her chin, shuddering with the flesh in contact with your leaking slit, even drawing near to your supposedly final piece of your own tale.

It’s told, etched onto the history books as Karina’s broken yet sultry voice invites you and immediately, it’s lured in.

You kept your wild pace on the run, even with the vicinity of her cleavage being painted white, even hitting her neck and making a mess all over her mound. Winter releases her grip onto Karina’s tits, and is flabbergasted with how filthy Karina has been—ruined and painted, just like her. 

You withdraw when Karina releases her grip, her fingers tracing the cum you deposited onto her pristine skin and tasted it, still satisfied with the delectable taste it still has. “You never disappoint, babe.”

“You girls are insane.” A breath follows, exhausted with what the three of you have done as you can even see their chests heave because of being in the same boat as yours. You help Karina stand up, a little wobbly because of all that just happened as she glares at you and speaks up.

“You should have let me take off the heels—it’s uncomfortable as fuck.”

“Well, you even look hotter with it—maybe even made me cum harder.”

“Unnie’s right, daddy—you look hot with just your heels on.” Winter’s verdict strokes the ego out of you, cocking your head as you scoff with hubris.

“Fine—let’s just clean up, shall we?”

Karina invites of course and it’s just reasonable—the three of you are probably the filthiest people in this given time frame, and cleansing yourselves would be a great option.

Maybe it’s another “two birds with one stone” in the bathroom later but one thing is for sure, you definitely hit the birds precisely and you’ll cherish and be proud of it, of what you’ve probably become.

“I have an idea though…” Karina’s strained voice invites Winter and you, all ears with what in the roulette of filthiness she may say right after. “Come here, Winter.”

She is puzzled yet she anticipates what Karina may have in store for her and you took a seat, possibly expecting for her to put up a show for you to indulge on. 

“What is it, unnie?”

“See the mess on my tits?” Winter answers audibly with a nod right after, expecting Winter’s ability to adapt in these situations is enough to connect the dots. “I assume what you want to do with it.”

Winter’s eyes shine, gleaming with lust as she feels shy knowing that what she has in mind is right. “Uhm, is it alright, unnie?”

“Yes, Winter—now say to him what you’re going to do.” Karina’s commands avert Winter’s eyes towards yours, and completely, you’re clearly interested how Winter will say such events that’s destined to unfold later, tilting your head and giving another green light.

“Go ahead, Winter—enlighten me.”

Winter clears her throat, eyes locked onto yours and lets herself be utterly vocal. “I’m assuming unnie wants me to clean your cum from her tits, am I right, daddy?”

The way Winter said it with sheer hesitance and as the cherry on top, laced with such innocence still baffles you—it felt like you heard something blasphemous but this is the reality of things now, and it’s clearly Winter becoming totally influenced and ruined by the both of you is just the beginning. You chuckle with her words, victorious with what you made her to be as you shake your head, pretending to be unaware of Karina’s whereabouts. “I don’t know, ask your unnie instead…”

Winter spans her attention to Karina, as Karina tilts her head and assures her. “Well, if so, it’s a yes and definitely, you’re right.”

Winter immediately flustered, cheeks emanating that rosy-pink hue as she went towards Karina, and with her power, she grabbed Winter by her wrists and mouthed the words of enchantment. “Go and clean me off, princess—show me what that tongue can do…”

Still with Karina’s authority, Winter whines and smiles at her, and her tongue slowly touches the tip of her mounds, still hesitant and Karina knows this, and she’ll do everything with her power to let Winter be a tool to achieve her wants, and Winter’s too, of course. “It’s just going to be the three of us knowing this mess, so go on princess—clean me off.”

Clean her off, that’s a must and it’s commanding. 

There’s something whenever Karina asserts her dominance and control, and it’s just turning every button on you, with a flip of a switch. Her handling of Winter is something you wouldn’t expect, and the sight is just like candy to your eyes—addicting, each second savored as you find yourself indulging for more.

You marvel at Karina’s filthy artisticness, a clever mind with another purpose would be something that will leave you astonished at most times.

Winter’s tongue licks the vicinity of Karina’s cleavage, every drop wiped clean and onto her mouth as Karina interrupts and lets go of her grip. “Don’t swallow it, princess—not yet. I’ll do something with you.”

Winter hums in satisfaction, a reply that falls audible on Karina’s ears as a nod comes right after. When Winter feels like she’s done licking every inch clean, Karina cups her cheeks and tilts her chin, and those eyes of Winter glisten under Karina’s control. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

It boils down into madness, lips crashing against each other as Karina’s initiative was eager to be reciprocated by Winter. The exchange was hot and chaste, feeling every second too euphoric as they resonate sounds enough for you to taint your mind with. Karina slurps with Winter’s approaching control, tongue dancing all over hers as Karina pulls out, and they both look at each other’s eyes with such needy intent. “Now share that cum with me, princess.”

Winter does as what she’s told to, immediately deposits remnants of that prize of yours onto Karina’s mouth, slobbering all over it while still exchanging kisses onto Winter’s insatiable lips. It goes onto these thoughts on why Karina possibly loves indulging Winter on a hot kiss: firstly, it’s mostly reminding her how Winter’s mouth still resembles the taste of your cock, which clearly, she’s obsessed with; second, the heat of the moment was just skyrocketing, feeling Karina’s urge to let Winter know how good of a kisser she is let herself be known how capable she is with anything; and lastly, Karina’s addicted to the taste of your cum, a protein she probably wouldn’t refuse to not let her tongue taste it.

These are assumptions at your end, yet clearly, you know how those can hit the right boxes, with only a minuscule margin of error.

They continue with such ferocity, Karina’s hands find Winter’s tiny waist, pulling her deeper into the blissful trance as both of them get lost into the abyss of need. Winter finds Karina’s shoulders, caressing it as they indulge deeper and then eventually, they pull out with little oxygen left in their bodies to spare.

“God, you two are fucking hot doing that.” You let them know that, and they already did, just another ringing onto their ears.

“Well, I can’t help that our princess here taste so fucking good.”

Winter laughs faintly, shy as she manages to utter something unserious. “I bet you only wanted to kiss me because of daddy’s cum…”

You ride with the high, teasing Karina as she gives you that unimpressed look, and you know she’s also playing with you and chose to be alongside it. “Yah, you really tasted that good too, plus the fact that it’s his cum too, so yeah…”

You’d say this is the final chapter in today’s book, and you let them invite onto something that could cleanse themselves for such acts. “Now, for real girls, let’s clean up.”

You never knew if you could be mesmerized or disappointed by what Karina made you do but one thing’s for sure, you never regretted every second and possibly, even experience something like this more frequently. Every possible dynamic that happened was 

“That sure made me know Winter more… and go even more than comfortable…” 

[knife-eared-jan]

Ok, as much as I have been hyping and playing 12 hours a day since it got out (still in Act 1 though, bc I'm a slowass player and completionist), I feel like I have to say something that is getting hard to ignore at this point... and I wanna preface this by saying that I am loving a lot of aspects of the game and I adore the writing when it comes to the companions, who I am obsessed with.

And maybe this will get better yet, as I generally heard the writing picks up once the story progresses beyond picking up all companions..

But I'm starting to get quite upset at the way the writing just does NOT care about the established lore and the politics of Thedas like at all, when to me - and many others - that richness, nuance and depth of the world is what makes the games so special.

(Spoilers below)

I looked past the way the elves in Arlathan just seemed to know that their gods are evil and Solas is "kind of a dick" but was right about that. When, you know, that made him basically the Satan of their pantheon up to now.. It was after all the tutorial stage of the game and I understand that you wanna ease newcomers into the lore. I could also handwave it in-universe with Morrigan being there - she could have filled the Veiljumpers in on the discoveries of the Inquisition or even what the Well told her.

It felt a bit weird that our contacts in every other faction just accepted this huge revelation without a blink, but again it was the early stages and I also get that having a discussion about it 6 times with different faction leaders would have been incredibly tedious. So I ignored that. And yeah, at least the First Warden found it hard to swallow.

The fact that they brushed aside the gods finding elven subjects - many of whom after all still worship them - with one sentence from Solas was disappointing though. Instead they chose to ally them with the Venatori and the Antaam who are the pure evil factions with no nuance or motive to side with them besides a comic book level of hunger for power. They didn't even throw in a sentence about the gods maybe speaking to the Venatori through the Archdemons to get them on their side or how it's very ironic that the Venatori, who want to make Tevinter great again, stoop to working with the pantheon of the people they oppress because they see them as lesser and other. No political exploration of the massive lore implications at all.

It really hit me when I picked up Davrin and he commented how Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain blighting the world would really endear us (elves) to the rest of Thedas - this was the first time anyone actually mentioned the political impact of the elven gods being real, freed, evil and blighted on modern day elves at all, when this should be HUGE. It should be ugly. It should be complex. It should be explored in as many examples as bloodmagic and the oppression of mages was in DA2. It should be a central point of Act 1. (This btw made me love Davrin so much in that moment because this was the first time in the game for me when I actually felt like talking to a Dragon Age elf and even just that one line felt like home.)

And now I just did Taash's first companion quest and it seems Qunari lore is also being ignored (except for the gender aspect of it, which I look forward to). Taash's mum was a scholar and had a baby and the only problem about that was that it could breathe fire and was special but otherwise all would have been dandy? Like she would have just been allowed to keep Taash long enough to find that out about her baby if she was living under the Qun? That directly contradicts everything we know about how the Qunari's culture around reproduction and childcare works.

Sorry to be negative and talking myself into a rage - I know it's not something people want to see rn. But like, I realise you have to brush over some lore intricacies for brevity and to make it digestible for new players. But this is a world initially inspired by Wheel of Time and ASOIAF, both of which are interesting because of the depth of ficitional cultures, lore and politics, and hence it's also what gives Dragon Age its appeal. And now they take us to the most politcally interesting areas on the world map and just get rid of all of political depth?

That's really disappointing. Imagine if Winds of Winter dropped all political themes just because there's several previous books and it's been some a lot of years.

Also, I managed to play DA2 before I ever played Origins and they could introduce me to a vast established background of lore just fine back then.

Sorry. Rant over. But I had to get that out of my system.

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 4)

You show Paige the benefits of being with a dominant woman.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Masterlist

Part 1 - Paige stumbles into a sex shop you work at, and you give her some satisfactory customer service.

Part 2 - You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Part 3 - Paige takes advantage of your employee discount.

Bonus Part - Paige wants to try scissoring, but she’s too shy to tell you.

Word Count: 2.8k

Themes: sub!Paige, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of mommy kink, some edging, strap usage

A/N: Hiii! The overall love and support for this mini series has given me warm fuzzy feelings. And because I love you guys so much, I have decided to write another part.

Please enjoy!

~

Paige had always prided herself on being considerably open when it came to trying new things, especially in the bedroom. Confidence poured out of her, igniting her aura in a flame of natural dominance that was felt by guys and girls alike. 

It was just how she was. It came with the job, and Paige had stepped into her role instinctively. 

So, one could imagine the surprise that graced Paige’s features as she rose from her slumber one morning, entranced and aroused from the dream that was still dancing on the edge of her brain. 

Sunlight streams in through the curtains, and through squinted, sleep-filled eyes, Paige looks over to you, still passed out on the pile of pillows next to her. You were the picture of innocence; your lips parted just slightly and face relaxed and peaceful. 

Paige’s chest rises and falls as she stares at you, your image triggering the flashes of her dream replaying in her head. She bites her lip to hold in a moan as she thinks about you pounding into her, your nimble fingers dancing around her throat in an uncharacteristic display of dominance that had her belly swarming with butterflies. 

“Fuck,” she mumbles, running a hand across her face. 

While you had taken the first leap in your friendship that had later developed into a relationship, Paige had taken the role of the top in the bedroom. But it had seemed that her unassuming musings of being topped by you had snuck into her dreams, proving that maybe it was more than just a casual fantasy. 

She wasn’t even sure if you would want to do that with her, and as her mind drifts again, her cheeks redden as she realizes that her fantasies were certainly not vanilla. 

Nope, she wanted to get railed. And as she glances back over at your sleeping figure, she decides she would simply have to find the courage to confess to you. 

~

Paige had also always prided herself on being brave. But she was having a very difficult time coming up with the exact words to express to you.

Paige paces her room for the hundredth time, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. “God, just say, ‘I want you to fuck the shit out of me,’” she whispers, shaking her head at her own timidity. 

She flexes in the mirror. “You’re Paige Bueckers. You can do this,” she says, louder this time.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jana asks, appearing in the doorway with an amused expression on her face.

“Nothing!” Paige says defensively, wiping her sweaty hands on her sweatpants and avoiding eye-contact with the taller girl.

Jana stares Paige down, obviously suspicious of her odd behavior. “C’mon, just tell me,” she goads, sitting down on Paige's bed and patting the empty spot next to her. 

Paige glares at Jana for a moment. ‘This whole team is so damn nosy,’ she thinks, but she sits down begrudgingly with a loud sigh. 

“I wanna be topped, and I don’t know how to bring it up,” Paige mutters, staring at her hands, feeling especially awkward as Jana digests her words. 

“Oh!” The younger girl coughs, surprised by Paige’s sudden candor. “Well, just be honest. She’ll probably love it,” Jana adds unhelpfully.

Paige rolls her eyes, chuckling at the absurdity of the conversation. 

“God, I hope so,” she sighs, falling backwards onto her bed and looking up at the beige ceiling. 

“Okay, well good luck,” Jana snorts, patting her teammate on the leg before walking out, shaking her head and already thinking about how KK would react to the news. 

Paige would never live it down. 

~

“People are so fuckin’ stupid,” you seeth, fists clenched at your sides as you recount your shift to your loving girlfriend who was currently staring at you with an odd expression on her face. 

But you were too pissed off to pause and think why, and you continue on ranting. “I just don’t understand why they think they can talk to me like that. I wanted to fuck him up,” you growl, hands flying in the air as all restraint leaves your body.

“Paige, are you even listening?” You snap, and she nods quickly, taking your hands in hers,  guiding you over to the couch and pulling you into her lap. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her gaze falling down to rest on your lips. You notice immediately.

“What?” You ask, rubbing your fingers across your mouth as you see where her attention pulls to. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah. Just look hot when you get worked up,” she smirks, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You hum, pleased at the affection. “Well, you’re in luck because I’m surrounded by idiots at work,” you huff. 

Paige chuckles, and you could nearly hear the gears turning in her head. You look at her questioningly, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

“Just spit it out, P.”

“You’re really sexy when you’re mad, and I want you to top me and be kinda aggressive with me,” she says hastily, words spilling from her mouth so fast you almost miss them.

Her honesty stuns you. 

“Really?” You ask, your brain already imploding with images of your girlfriend’s naked body spread out for your own pleasure. 

“I had a dream about it,” she explains shyly, and your heart melts at her newfound reticence. 

“You know I can’t ever say no to you,” you murmur, pulling her in for a heated kiss. 

That was just the damn truth. 

~

“Undress and get your ass on the bed,” you instruct, your voice calm and unwavering. Paige had been acting like a brat all night, and frankly, you were tired of it. 

Another part of you was glad that you would have a good excuse to dominate Paige, and something told you that her behavior was not accidental.

You watch as she strips. Her hands tremble as she folds her shirt, buying herself a few more seconds before the bounds of your relationship change forevermore. 

She goes to lay on the bed, but you stop her, running your hands down her sides to rest on her waist. You finger the waistband of her boxers. “All of your clothes, my love,” you whisper.

Even in the soft glow of the bedroom, you could see the tinge of pink illuminate her pale flesh, and she pulls them off without arguing.

It was progress. 

“Good girl.” Two simple words that could turn yourself into a whimpering mess. You were not the only one, it seems, as Paige lets out a strangled moan. She tries to play it off as a cough, clearly embarrassed.

“Gonna make you feel so good, and you’re going to let me,” you purr in her ear before leaning down and attaching your soft lips to the delicate skin of her neck. You work marks onto her flesh, trailing them up and down as you listen to her breathy moans. 

They grow louder as you reach her tits. Paige thrusts her chest out, wanting your mouth on her as much as possible. You palm her right breast as your mouth attaches to the left, your tongue swirling around her peaked, pink nipple as if it was candy. 

“S’good,” she breathes, squirming under you in a way that has the more dominant parts of yourself purring with content and satisfaction.

Your kisses trail down her stomach, and you take a second to admire the toned abs flexing under your lips. She really was perfect. 

You had to control your sappy thoughts tonight. 

“More,” she whimpers, unable to keep still, and the idea that it was you doing this to her was almost too much. 

“You like that, baby?” 

It was a simple question, but the tone of your voice and the subtle, mocking lilt spreads a warmth throughout her body and tunnels right to her already soaked core. 

Paige just groans, but it wasn’t enough for you. 

You grip her chin, making her look right into your eyes. Her pupils are blown wide from arousal, and she releases her lip from her teeth. Her bottom lip was plump from biting it, leaving it in a deep pout. 

“I asked you a question.” 

“Yes, mommy. I like it,” she mumbles, and your heart rate jumps at the name. That was definitely something new. But you were going to run with it. 

“Such a good girl f’me,” you simper, running your hand down her abdomen to rest at the top of her dripping pussy. Your fingers dance across her skin, the heat from your body warming her from the outside in and the natural arousal creating an inner fire. 

Your middle finger finds her clit and she gasps as you begin to rub slow circles, your lips reattaching to hers. Your tongues glide together as you take the lead, stepping naturally into your new role. 

Paige grinds against your hand, clearly desperate for more friction, and because you were feeling nice, you oblige. 

With one final kiss and light bite to her plush, bottom lip, you settle yourself down between your girlfriend’s parted legs. The glow from the bedside lamp illuminates her slick pussy, putting a spotlight to the pleasure you were giving her. 

“Keep your eyes open, baby,” you instruct before you dive in, immediately sucking her clit into your mouth. 

Paige’s hips fly off the bed in shock of the sudden change in pressure, and you hold them down with strong forearms, anchoring her to the bed. 

Your tongue flicks across her clit before snaking down to lap up the sweet wetness that had pooled at her entrance, already trickling down to her inner thighs. You press kisses there, feeling the muscles ripple under your mouth. 

Seeing your girlfriend laid out so innocently under you was intoxicating, and you didn’t want to lose the buzz Paige was giving you. 

Your fingers tease her entrance before you slide them in without warning. Paige cries out, eyes squeezing shut as you set a punishing pace. 

“Look at me, darling. Watch me fuck your pretty, little pussy,” you command gently. 

Her eyes flutter open, wide and bashful. Her bottom lip trembles as you lean back down to suck and bite at her sensitive clit again. 

“Doin’ so good for me,” you whisper against her flesh, reveling in both her taste and the way you are getting off on the power play. 

Her moans grow louder and louder as you continue to finger fuck her, your name and the occasional, breathless “Mommy” thrown around, encouraging you to keep going without pause. 

She clenches around your fingers, and you knew she was getting close. You bring her right to the edge, watching as her head tips back in overwhelming pleasure before stilling your movements and pulling out of her. 

Her head flies back up to look at you, eyes wide with shock and disappointment. 

“Why’d you stop?” She whines, and you grin. 

“Oh, baby. We’re just getting started.” 

You suck the juices off your fingers, making a show of it in front of Paige, who still looks thoroughly pissed. 

“Fix your face. I promise, you’ll cum soon.”

She still pouts, and you roll your eyes, ready to make a mess of her. 

You reach into the draw of the bedside table, pulling out the strap that Paige was so fond of. Her eyes widen with surprise, and you smirk at her reaction. 

You tighten the band around your hips, stroking the rubber experimentally as Paige watches you. Her tongue peeks out to swipe a slow stripe across her lip, enjoying the erotic show in front of her. 

“Fuck,” she whispers under her breath, reaching up to touch your now exposed tits, nipples peaked from your excitement. 

Her hand glides down over smooth, supple skin to lightly grasp the fake dick now nestled between your legs as if it was actually an extension of you. 

In a way it was. 

“Come taste mommy,” you say, trying to keep your voice level and strong. 

Paige nods quickly, taking you in her mouth while staring up at you through her lashes. She makes a show of it, alternating between kitten licks across the head and long, wet stripes up and down the length of it. 

“Such a good girl,” you praise, gathering her long hair into a ponytail and leading her. 

Once the strap is thoroughly covered in Paige’s saliva, you pull her off of it, guiding her into place on the pile of pillows. 

“Wanna look at you while I’m fucking you.”

You position yourself in between her open legs, stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh before sliding inside of her in one, fluid movement. 

Paige groans as you fill her up, the pressure foreign and consuming. You swirl messy circles against her clit to distract her, praising her and pressing kisses to her face. 

She adjusts quickly, her slick pussy opening for you, beckoning to have you even closer. 

The buzzing of the vibrator attached to the strap pulses through your core, and you grind into her, chasing your own pleasure. 

You glance to the right of you, the large mirror showing your body fucking into Paige’s, and it stirs up something primal inside of you. 

Paige had said she wanted you to be aggressive. Aggressive is what she was going to get. 

Your touch lingers over her hips, fingers gripping into the curves of her body, and without warning, you flip her onto her stomach. 

She looks back at you, surprised but with a faint smirk of satisfaction on her lips. 

She wanted this. 

You position her so her ass is high in the air. She wiggles it, almost to say ‘come and ruin me.’ 

You slap her ass, the sound ringing through the room, and she gasps, the sting lighting every nerve ending in her body on fire. 

Your grip on her hips is almost mean, proving your control over her. You trace her spine, and she shudders, pressing her face into the pillow to quiet her whines. 

With yet another swift movement, you re enter her, and Paige does not hesitate to let out a loud, pathetic cry of pleasure. 

You pound into her, alternating between long, steady strokes and grinding the strap against her g-spot. 

“Oh my—GOD,” she cries, her voice thick with tears as you continue your assault on her pussy. “Don’t stop.  Please mommy, please don’t stop.” 

Her begging ignites something in you, proving that this was probably the best idea she’s ever had. You lay yourself against her, your tits pressing into her muscular back, and you grab her by the throat, squeezing gently. 

She lets out another long moan, pressing herself back into you, desperate to get as much contact as possible. 

The whole scene is erotic, and as the sounds of the moaning mixed with the slapping of skin together, you both quickly begin to reach your peaks. 

“You gonna to be a good girl and cum for me?” You ask, wanting so badly for her to cum on your cock. 

She nods, looking back at you with teary eyes, her lips swollen. She looked completely fucked out. 

You wanted to take a picture. 

“Gonna cum for you,” she whimpers, fucking back onto the strap, hips moving in perfect rhythm with yours. 

“Fuck,” you cry out, unable to hold out any longer. “Let go, baby.” 

You both cum with shouts of pleasure and each other's names on your lips, the sounds aiding in the wanton feel of it all. 

You begin to pull out of her, exhaustion settling deep into your bones and mixing with the tingling aftershocks of your orgasm, when you suddenly feel a wetness on your thighs. 

Paige, who is still trying to catch her breath, notices you rubbing at the wet material of the bedsheets. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks. 

You stifle a laugh. “P, I think you squirted,” you giggle, feeling immensely pleased with yourself. 

“Fuck,” she says, a blush covering her face. “I’ve never done that shit before.” 

Smirking, you pull her in for a kiss. “What can I say, mommy is the best,” you tease. 

“Shut up,” she whines, clearly embarrassed. 

But there was really no denying it. The two of you would definitely be trying some different things in the bedroom from now on. 

It was inevitable. 

~

Dayummmm well what did we think??

Thanks so much for reading.

She's Such a Good Girl Part 6 will most likely the the next fic.

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @sophswbb, @dietcokesmom, @tndaqlifwy, @ch12334, @double22, @inthedeathofherreptuation, @authentic-girl03, @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold, @ittiwdwysylm @sillylittlefakeacc @hobbybound @makethemhoesmad

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [2]

・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!

That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.

Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.

“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"

Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"

You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."

"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."

Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it. 

You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."

Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."

You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."

Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.

At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked. 

“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.

You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.

Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.

As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat. 

“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.

“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”

You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned? 

As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea. 

Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive? 

Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.

Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?” 

Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head. 

He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval. 

You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.

His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness. 

It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?

You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.” 

He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.

A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation. 

Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze. 

“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”

The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.

“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”

Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.

“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.

You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts. 

As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display. 

Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.

You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.

It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men. 

“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?” 

The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”

The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.

“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.

“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”

“Do they have a background in fashion?” 

“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.” 

The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet. 

“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”

The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.

“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.” 

What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-

“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.

Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel? 

“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.

“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.” 

That couldn’t be true, could it?

Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.

“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.” 

The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”

You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.

“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.” 

He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”

As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.

“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”

You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for. 

He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door. 

“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view. 

Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.

You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin. 

Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name. 

You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.

What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.

Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection. 

You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.

Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him. 

Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.

“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.

You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.

“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”

“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”

It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.

That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building. 

“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later. 

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?” 

You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time? 

“Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”

Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.

“… I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person. 

“You are?” He asked incredulously.

“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.” 

Hopefully, he would buy your lie.

Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.

You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.

The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.

Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music. 

“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!” 

Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?

“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway. 

Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.

He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.

“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”

He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty. 

“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear. 

Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.

“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon. 

Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”

You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?

You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.

“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”

His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside. 

Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.

“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you. 

As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath. 

He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.

“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.” 

Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.

Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve. 

“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?” 

Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.

Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.

“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?

“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.

He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him. 

“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room. 

Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day. 

You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.

Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing 

“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.

“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”

He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.

You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.

Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color. 

While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room. 

He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull. 

As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.

“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table. 

You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.

“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.

“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table, 

‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’

“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.” 

Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.

Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll. 

“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?” 

You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table. 

With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.

“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.

“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.” 

“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.” 

As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay. 

“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve. 

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”

Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work. 

Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.

Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.

“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.

“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”

You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric. 

“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?” 

You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.

The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.

‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet. 

Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking? 

“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.

The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace. 

You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”

Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it. 

“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.

You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry? 

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”

“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.” 

A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring? 

“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”

You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.

“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.” 

Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly. 

The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.

It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.

“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!” 

Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.

What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.

Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you. 

“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.” 

“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”

Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”

‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.

Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.

“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.

You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.” 

“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”

You shook your head, “no, not really.”

“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”

Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain. 

The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.

“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”

“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.

Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you. 

He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.

“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.

You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.

The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.

For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.

You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.

It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.

Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.

You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form. 

“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.

Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.

“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.” 

“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him. 

“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”

You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.

“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.

You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.

This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.

“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.

“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”

His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.

“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.

He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.

It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.

Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened. 

The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch. 

You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.

It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.

The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.

The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.

The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!” 

Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.

It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter. 

Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures. 

There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him. 

There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.

It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle. 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.

“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion. 

Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.

“Um, hi..?” 

I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha

and.. hold up yall…

for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!

Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)

HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3

have a great day, my swans! 🦢

—

taglist:

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites

[finelinevogue]

Hi!! I would love a blurb for Azriel (ACOTAR) with 3 & 17 please ❤️ thank you!!!

hi!! of course🌟💖 az has such a soft place in my heart so i’m super excited to write more for him<3

am i allowed to miss you?

summary - azriel comes back from a mission and you’re not sure whether you’re allowed to miss him or not

pairing - azriel x new-mate!reader

✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐

Elain bursts through the library doors, looking for you.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, sitting up and closing your book to show attention to her.

“Azriel’s back.” She breathed out, pausing a moment to watch you digest the news before leaving you alone again.

Elain left the door open, allowing you to hear the commotion in the hallway of all your friends greeting Azriel a warm welcome home.

It took you just a moment, but you started to feel his presence beside you. You allowed that warm feeling within-side you to fester and grow, feeling an overwhelming amount of love and safety all at once.

It was the bond.

The new bond.

You and Azriel were only a few weeks mated, after only having courted for a few weeks before that. You couldn’t help but mate each other because of how strong your feelings were to one another. It just made sense.

However, a few days ago Azriel had to leave to go on a mission even though both of you were still reeling in the honeymoon phase of your newly mated lives.

Standing up, you brushed some crumbs off your dress skirt and breathed out shakily.

You were so nervous.

The pace at which you’d been with Az had been so fast that you were still a little unsure how you were supposed to feel. It wasn’t a conventional relationship, per say, but that didn’t mean what you felt for each other was any less real. You knew that. However, you worried.

Walking out of the library you rounded the corner to see everyone crowding Azriel.

Rhys ruffled his hair and Cassian was finishing squeezing him tight as if he’d been gone for 30 years not 30 hours.

You watched with a smile on your face.

Azriel hates being fussed over like he currently is being, so it’s a little funny to watch. He’s too polite to tell them to leave, or maybe a secret part of him actually likes it. Either way, you stand back and allow him to be fussed over.

“Anything to report back?” Rhys asked.

“Rhys, you sent me on a scouting mission to count how many cattle Beron has. Except from the number ‘73’, no. Nothing to report.” Azriel said in the most sarcastic way.

Feyre laughed at this, teasing Rhys over something so silly.

“Counting cattle? Whatever for?” Amren asked.

“I have my reasons.” Rhys blushed, seemingly embarrassed but everyone knew there must be a good reason behind it all. Rhys was respected enough by everyone not for anyone to question anything.

“Was one of those reasons keeping me from my mate?” Azriel asked.

It was then that you’d realised that you’d clearly missed something and Azriel appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His kissed the top of your head and held you close for a moment.

“More like to give us a break from you being with your mate.” Cassian grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azriel questioned for you both.

“Umm…” Cassian blushed.

“What Cassian is trying to insinuate is that the walls are old and so the walls are thin. We can hear… everything.” Nesta suggested for her mate.

You muttered a curse to the Gods under your breath, turning beet red at Nesta’s comment.

Everyone else chuckled.

Azriel must have known that you were feeling embarrassed because the next thing you knew you were being swept up in his arms, being carried like a bride.

“Right. Y/N and I are leaving. You can count your own cattle from now on Rhysand. And as for you, Lord od Bloodshed, would you like me to tell everyone about the time I caught you in Nesta’s lingerie and not for a devious reason?”

“You little…” Cassian started to move forward but Azriel had disappeared, along with you, before he could get anywhere close.

You both appeared in his room, out of the shadows.

Azriel put you down on the bed, following you down so he was leaning over you.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azriel said, kissing you deeply.

You followed his kisses, taking his lead and kissing as much as Azriel was giving. It was soft but at the same time urgent. Your fingers cupped his cheeks, attempting to keep him placed against you forever.

“Welcome home.” You said softly, kissing him once more.

Next thing you know he’s kissing your forehead, nose, chin and cheek. He kept going, moving down across your jaw and onto your neck.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, finding the spot on your neck that you loved him kissing and keeping there.

You didn’t respond to his question, pushing it off as distraction and not listening.

“Y/N?” He left the spot on your neck, moving his eyes until they caught your distanced ones. “Hey. Don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not.”

“You seem… distracted.”

You watched his eyes assess your face for a long moment. His eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions and you could feel his concern within your own chest. You imagined that he could feel your anxiety in his.

“Am I…” You started then stopped.

Azriel didn’t push you or try and finish the question for you, instead he pushed himself off you and sat on the bed. He carefully took your hand and pulled you up too, not satisfied until he swung you across his lap and held you close.

One of Az’s hands intertwined with yours and you sat like this for a moment more. Enjoying being next to each other. Enjoying the overwhelming emotions settle down as your bond recognised your closeness.

“Am I allowed to miss you?” You asked, remaining looking at his hand rather than him.

“You… Why… Of course you can miss me, my love.” He kissed your forehead. “Why would you think not? Was it Cassian? I swear to….”

“No!” You exclaimed, looking at him then, “It wasn’t Cassian, no.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s just. Everything between us has happened so fast. I went from liking you, to loving you, to mating you all into the space of a month. I don’t feel like time exists and yet… I also feel like I don’t have the right to miss you so much that my heart physically aches after so little time.”

Azriel brings your tied hands up to his chest, leaving your hand to feel his heart beating.

“My heart physically ached too.” He gives you a soft smile.

“I did. I really did miss you.”

“I know. I know, because I felt the same way.” He gave you one loving kiss, “I don’t think it’s silly to worry over how quickly everything has shifted between us, and I do think that we feel right. I think we’re good. And we love each other enough to miss each other. So never worry about how you’re feeling, or if you’re feeling too much too soon - chances are I’m feeling it too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Welcome home, Az.” You give him another kiss.

“Now let’s give Cassian something to groan about.” Azriel says before flipping you back on the bed.

[deeplyshalllow]

Classic Fiyeraba fic recommendations

So, with the new movie coming out, I've seen a lot of requests here for people to write Fiyeraba particularly happy Shiz era stuff, and like guys, guys, I did not spend my formative teen years in the Wicked fanfiction.net section for people to act like the amazing fics there don't even exist.

So here is my list of the fics and authors so great that I remember it over a decade later

Obviously, given we have never had a situation before where people know act 1 but not act 2, there will be spoilers and act 2 stuff in a bunch of these, but please check them out.

(a few of the authors I know are still around tumblr I've tagged, but feel free to tell me if you want me to take it off).

Authors in no particular order:

Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic - Honestly just read anything this woman wrote, I think if anyone said Fiyeraba fanfic this would be the first name I think of - bonus that a lot of the stuff is easily digestible fluffy oneshots

Merina Thropp @merinathropp on Tumblr - Writes beautifully, I remember getting very excited when she uploaded new fic. I particularly remember her Fiyero's Shiz era twitter fic and her extended As Long As You're Mine fic

HC247 @a-partofthenarrative on Tumblr - Writes such lovely fluff and I think double digits on alaym fics! Particularly remember her Once Upon a Kiss series and Masquerade. She mostly writes POTO stuff now but I see occasionally get an alert in my inbox from her.

alinaandalion - another fantastic Fiyeraba writer (god there are so many) I particularly remember her for her A Drop in the Bucket series, which are a lovely series of Fiyeraba oneshots.

CrazyBeagle - one of the people on the Wicked section who has made the transition to real life friend. But I knew her for her fics before we became friends. To Feel is post musical fic which is a lovely realistic continuation of Fiyeraba's journey. Unlimited is a modern retelling of Wicked which I really enjoy though I have been told multiple times it will never be updated no matter how much I threaten.

Scandalacious Intentions @scandalaciousintentions on Tumblr - Candy is the other Wicked friend who has become an irl friend (and I am most certainly the only person who still calls her Candy). She is much better known for her Tonks/Lupin stuff, but I always loved what she wrote for Wicked. Witchy Woman was her first Wicked fic I still very much enjoy it.

Girlscout4ever wrote ever so beautifully. Cheap Rented Room is such a fantastic expanded ALAYM.

ElphabaROCKS - wrote a lot of very good Fiyeraba fluff

Vinkanwildflowerqueen @vinkunwildflowerqueen on Tumblr - I imagine a lot of you know her already as she is still writing! She writes a lot of very good Fiyeraba au fics

Fermantoso - one of the funniest writers in the section! Chasing Elphie is the one I remember best, au but funny and sweet.

Danderson - slightly more bookverse than a lot of the other writers here but still great fics!

Kaylle - There are Nights, is always the one people (including me) remember as it's one of the most beautiful pieces of fanfiction on the Wicked section, but all of her work is lovely.

Lost Ozian - Well known for her humour, The Fiyero User Manual springs immediately to mind, my favourite is actually her serious au fic Different

Me - debated whether to add this, but I was also part of the section back in the day, and I know people enjoyed my fics too, though God knows I've improve my writing in the last decade and a half - in terms of Fiyeraba my strongest were probably A Moment and Living. Perfect Together is unquestionably the best fic I wrote for Wicked, although it's more Flinda.

Individual Fics:

Like a Swan on a Lake - this fic was actually well after my time but I happened to read it and I love love love it! AU of Fiyero if both girls defied gravity together and it does such a good job of showing his intelligence

Broccoli - I remember this one being very sweet Shiz era Fiyeraba

According to Plan - funny fic, fun twist ending

Sincerely, an annoyed Shiz student - not strickly Fiyeraba but you should read it. It is a very fun parody.

It's a long way to fall - This was actually the fic I created a fanfic account for, because I hadn't realised you could anonymous review! A fun arranged marriage AU

Please, please add to this list if you have other recs, mine are about 10 years out of date. Also apologies if I've missed any out as there's so many good ones and it is 2am.

[nataliescatorccio]

plotholes in season 4 i really don't understand now i've digested the season please feel free to explain or add your own:

- sparrow academy and especially sloane just being forgotten, luther just seeming to magically get over his wife disappearing and not fighting in any way shape or form to find her or get back to a timeline with her in it - especially as they show discovery of the phoenix academy you think five would mention that a timeline with sloane must exist out there - ben being teased on the subway train at the end of season 3 but just??? never showing up??? was that an alternative timeline? - allison doing everything last season motivated by the idea of being able to get to claire and ray only for ray to apparently leave her with zero elaboration as to why or what happened - making fatphobic jokes towards diego but actually he takes his shirt off and is still ripped as fuck? - upon regaining their powers luther getting his ape body back which??? literally had nothing to do with his marigold related powers it was because of an accident on a previous timeline? - lila getting laser beam eye powers seemingly from nowhere, but it's not as if this was ever addressed because she could still mimic powers (see: her using five's time travel ability) - very limited use of powers, there were a few cool moments in episode 2 but ultimately it felt like there was no need to even get them back as they rarely showcased them (with the exception of five's getting them stuck) - klaus throwing his marigold onto a passing man but this never getting any exploration - never explaining why jennifer was in a giant squid - never explaining why jennifer got locked up in a safe - ben apparently never discussing with klaus how he died??? - ben and jennifer not realising that the entire motel had blown up around them including murdering flocks of birds and staff when they checked out? - entire five/lila plotline but also five figuring out how to leave and not saying anything when he has always been the first to want to get back and protect his family - lila apparently hating bracelets despite the fact that diego making lila a bracelet and it keeping them linked was such a big plotpoint it was used as a teaser in previous seasons (and the bead bracelet just disappearing) - lila being so intent on saving her family and the kids by sending them to the subway and on an alternative timeline but only one 'true' timeline can survive anyway which would erase the subway - the kids existing when the parents that created them don't - the entire show being for nothing in that the umbrellas do not even exist anymore

[nathaslosthershit]

A Big Question (Teen Dad!Oscar AU) Part 2

(Read part 1 of this duology first!) (Part 9 of Teen Dad!OP au) Summary: Oscar needs to mend what he broke and he needs to do it fast

Getting into the car, Honey whipped the tears from her cheeks as she made up a lame excuse as to why Oscar wasn’t with her. The driver knew that she wasn’t being truthful, but thought it best to let the girl be. Having dessert and drinks in the picnic basket that Oscar had set up for the two of them after dinner, Honey decided to not let the total night be a bust and have her own moonlight picnic on the beach while she sulked. 

Back at the restaurant, Oscar sat alone for a few minutes, digesting what had just happened before he got up and paid the bill. Walking outside, he had expected the car to still be there. Now stressed out, he got his phone to check where the car was heading, a frown appearing as he saw she was on her way to the beach, alone. 

While it wasn’t necessarily his decision to go back to racing so soon, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled that he would once again be in the car. He knew he had fucked up in the past by not prioritizing his family, but he had learned from those tough few months and wasn’t going to let it happen again. 

Deciding to let her have some time to process, Oscar ordered a car to take him home. He had expected to get back late and had told Lando to take the guest bedroom. So his friend was also not expecting him home so soon, and when Oscar came home early, alone, and clearly upset, Lando was worried.

“Mate! What happened? Where is she? Did you get to-” Lando jumped up from the couch to meet his teammate at the door.

“No, I was interrogated and let it slip about what my meeting was about and before I could say or do anything, she left the restaurant.”

“Where is she now? Do you know? She could be in trouble, it's late!”

“She took the driver and went to the beach, I assumed she wanted to be alone.” “No, you muppet! You should have absolutely followed her! Why would you let her go off alone when she is upset? She doesn’t even know the full story and you are letting her think the worst.”

Oscar hadn’t thought of that, he probably should have gotten all he wanted to say out first before leaving her alone. God, he was such an idiot to let this happen again. To his credit, Lando was being very helpful. It never dawned on Oscar that he could need relationship advice, for his relationship of 7 years, from Lando Norris himself.

“Fuck, you’re right. But I did leave her, what should I-”

“Go to her! Jesus, Oscar what are you waiting around for, this was supposed to be the perfect night and you fucked it up 45 minutes into it! Fix it now!” With that, Lando shoved his friend out the door.

Driving closer to his average speed on the track rather than the speed limit, Oscar jumped out the car the minute he saw what looked like his girlfriend’s silhouette on the sand. He had spent the short car ride thinking of what he was going to say, how he was going to fix this. The moment she looked up at him though, hiccuping from her cries, everything he had rehearsed went out the window.

Instead he got down on the sand and held her tighter than he had in a long time.

“I don’t want to end up the way we were, Oscar. We were miserable, even before the fight.” She sobbed into his neck.

“I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to end up that way either. Never, ever again.” He replied soothingly, even though he could feel his heart breaking alongside her’s.

“I just felt so alone. Watching you choose your career over me, over the kids! It was so hard to see time and time again. I am not that strong.” “Hey, you are stronger than you know possible, my love. I know I have put you through hell, getting you pregnant at 17, reacting terribly to the news, then making so many empty promises and prioritizing the wrong things. But I promise, Honey, I will never ever make those same mistakes. I meant what I said before, you are it for me. I will never love anyone the way I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for my shortcomings.” He said as he cupped her cheeks, whipping away the tears. 

Seeing her smile once again, he reached into his pocket to pull out the box that had been there all night. Her eyes lit up at the realization of what it was.

“Oscar, I-”

“I know this is a terrible time, I am the reason you were sitting here, alone and crying, but this is what I had planned all along. I was, of course, going to tell you about the meeting, but after I did, I wanted to reassure you that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I would never be leaving your side for as long as I live. My career is only going to get more hectic and unpredictable as time goes on, but I am going to go through it with you all as my priorities. I am in it to win, but I am also in it to provide for you all, and I sure as hell am going to return back to you all after every race. I love you so much, Honey, ever since I saw you at that karting track, months before you had even looked at me. I know I said ‘I’d knock your socks off with this second proposal’, and I was going to! But there is nothing more important to me right now than you knowing how much you mean to me, how much the kids mean to me. So please, my love, will you marry me?” He quickly got on one knee and opened the ring box. It was the same ring as before, but he had added two tiny stones onto the band, framing the much larger diamond, on one side was his birthstone, on the other, her own. 

Trying to reply had been harder than she thought as all these new emotions of relief and unadulterated happiness caused her to, instead of answering him, sob even harder into his shoulder.

“I know this is a lot, but if its too much, if you don't want to marry m-”

“Yes! Of course I do Oscar! Oh my I- I am just so relieved and emotional I can’t-”

“Shhhh, its okay I promise.” He laughed, tears of his own starting to fall as they held each other.

Several minutes were spent recuperating until Oscar was finally able to slip the ring back onto her finger. “I hope you didn’t eat all the dessert, I was kind of hoping we could eat it together.” Oscar joked.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch that. The wine on the other hand-”

They sat in each other’s company well past their usual bedtime, the twins normally tiring them out enough they can’t stay up past 10. But with the engagement firing them up, they were still wide awake as they both stumbled home, deciding in their tipsy state to take the chauffeur and leave Oscar’s car there for the night. 

Lando, who had taken to the guest room hours before the happy couple got back, was relieved when he was woken up to giggles being interrupted by what was clearly a make out session. And as he heard the couple close their bedroom door, he decided it was best to put his noise canceling headphones on in order to not scar himself for life, and to let them enjoy their night without any listeners.

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, mclaren, landonorris, and 938,269 others

oscarpiastri Second times the charm or whatever they say. Who cares- I am getting married!

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 7

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

THIS IS THE LAST EPISODE 4 ENTRY I SWEAR

agatha: why yes I'm listening politely because I'm being sociable, not because this story concerns me in any way shape or form

she did NOT want TO DO IT AGATHA. HE WAS HER SON TOO AGATHA. did you ever give her a chance to SAY any of THAT. damn rio is (metaphorically) fighting for her life here. waiting centuries to catch her wife with her guard down next to a random fire, and then reworking her LONG PLANNED SPEECH into bite sized easily digestible bits so that her emotionally stunted soulmate doesn't run away screaming

I was doing MY DAMN FUCKING JOB agatha

agatha looks away like whooops! wasn't listening! wasn't looking at you! no sir, not me!

that's right. acknowledge her feelings. show her that you understand but that you're hurting too. be mature. you're doing great. god the way she swallows and stares right ahead, so determined. this is such a crucial moment for her.

agatha: i'm stone cold. I'm a wall. this is not affecting me in the slightest. I'm bored, really.

lilia not missing a word of what rio's saying

lmao the neutral pronoun lasted two seconds. she's not even trying to pretend like she isn't talking about agatha. and the way she nods to herself like yes, I did the best I could with this. so, there.

"she is my scar" is going to the sapphic annals, isn't it?

LMAOOOO the unblinking cat stare. rio is like I WAS TALKING TO YOU DUM-DUM. I KNOW IT, YOU KNOW IT, EVERYONE AROUND THIS GODDAMN FIRE KNOWS IT. CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING TALK TO ME PLEASE DEAR GOD

and agatha doing a teeny tiny side glance and going whoooooooops not looking! I'm NOT looking! I'm not even here! and scrunching her face more and more trying to keep it blank

AND she's gone. she's so predictable lmaooo. every dang time.

awkwaaaaaard

rio with her soft smile again! with the little amused eye roll! never getting mad at agatha's antics. she's like FINE I'll come after you, you BIG BABY. the patience this woman has

lilia is so scared of rio because somehow, through her exceptional Seer abilities, she knew instinctively that this is her mortal foe. but something funny has just happened: here in front of her there's just a regular little guy, a bit odd maybe, doing her little thing, trying to talk to her ex. might it be... might it be that death isn't a monster, that it's just a thing, a strange but natural thing that happens to everybody? lilia cannot accept that quite yet. so she grabs rio and says no, no. I've seen what you are. you're scary, you're evil, you're dangerous. this is lilia's survival instincts kicking in. we are simply wired to fear death, that's just how humans are. it takes an exceptional mind and soul to see past that.

oh god, here we go, here we go. deep breaths (I'm telling this to myself tbh. i need the pep talk)

stroking her hair so gently. soft, tentative.

hey, subtitle people??? what the fuck??

rio just stands and stares. lets agatha decide what comes next, goes at her pace always

the haiR CARESSING

the HUG. the BIG SIGH. this bitch was running away screaming from rio just yesterday. and here she is. her love. her partner. she finally acknowledges rio's pain and all that they lost and all that they were (and still are tbh) to each other. THIS is what rio was looking for. she's not flirting to manipulate and deflect now, she's not being somebody else. this is agatha cracked open and bleeding love and sorrow

and they melt into each other, and they're rocking each other back and forth, with all their pain and tenderness and longing

agatha with her face buried in rio's shoulder. I'm unwell

and then agatha gently pushes rio back and strokes her hair and cradles her face like she did so many times before and leans in and here I am giving you a play-by-play and running a commentary like a totally normal and sane person would

you know what makes for a perfect onscreen kiss imo? no it's not tongue, although these two will give us plenty of that too. it's the TREMBLING. THE HESITATION. THE YEARNING.

rio and her superhuman willpower. couldn't be me.

and and and and and agatha looks at her puzzled for a second and doesn't register what's happening and dives for a kiss again she's so far gone. the feral animal noises I'm making you have no idea

THE ICY SHOWER

THE STEP BACK. THE MOST PAINED SMILE

THE REGRET

I think one big reason why agatha is always so calculated is because she's afraid her instincts will take over. she does something big and spectacular and stupid and then calls it a 'calculated risk' when it was actually a rush of fear, desire, sorrow, anger that she couldn't control. tonight rio has managed to poke a little hole into a carefully constructed dam, and now all the water is rushing out and tearing down the walls. agatha has rio in her arms and her shape, her scent, her skin are so nostalgic and familiar. her brain goes on autopilot, she's been lonely for so long, she is FAMISHED for love and connection and sex and acceptance. rio wanted her to open up, but agatha doesn't do half-measures. rio wanted her to give for a change, but agatha can only ever take.

rio HAS to put a stop to it. she puts logic before heart, one of them has to and you know agatha isn't gonna. more than anything rio wants to take this one perfect moment and run away with it, but instead she tears herself away and asks, what happens next? what happens if I have to take billy away from you? that reanimated corpse, that freak of nature who walked into your life only yesterday and took over?

billy is now part of the equation and rio cannot ignore it. she has been so gentle and careful with agatha, easing her into a reconciliation that is now in jeopardy because here comes billy maximoff like a sword of damocles! what happens if agatha takes her back only for rio to break her heart all over again? there would be no coming back from that. rio cannot help being the grim reaper just as much as agatha cannot help being a succubus, and she is almost at her breaking point here. because she is hurting too! she is sick of having to be the mature one! she's sick of always coming in second after all of agatha's issues! turns out there's a limit even to the heartbreak an impossibly old and wise being can take.

(and now I need a smoke and a future episode that is just 30 minutes of hot but soft cuddles and kisses and sweet nothings. please.)

once again a big shoutout and thank you to all the people reaching out and leaving comments, it's incredible to hear from you all @crybabyheathen @onceuponalegendbg @idkbroletssee @psychicsolanum @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l @a-tad-bit-obsessed @a-rusty-bucket-of-woes @miacheezytoon @isagrimorie @april-december @aquaaquila and I'm probably forgetting someone but I see you all and I appreciate you so much!

and now for something extra

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober Day 7 - Squirting: Nesta x Reader x Cassian

A/N: Y'ALL... I am SO sorry for being AWOL for a hot minute, life got rough and my mental health was not it

TW: sexual themes including polyamory

word count: 1.93k

Kinktober Masterlist

NSFW under the cut

You and Nesta were cuddled up on a couch in the House of Wind. Ever since moving to Velaris from the Autumn Court, you and Nesta had been connected at the hip. While you did get along in many aspects, you mainly bonded over your love of smutty books. 

You were both reading a book about a polyamorous relationship, which was a bit out of your normal reading habits. It was quite enjoyable but there was an idea on your mind that you just couldn’t shake.

“Have you and Cass ever done that?” you asked Nesta. She smirked and moved slightly closer to you, her legs pressed up against yours and shoulders brushing. 

“Maybe a few times,” you froze and looked over at her.

You blinked in surprise and to encourage her to continue, “You’re not really just going to say that and not elaborate?”

Her hand reached up and twirled a piece of your hair around her slender fingers, “You didn’t ask for details, just if we had.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Well that is typically how a conversation starts, Nesta. One party offers up a topic and the other engages.” Despite your mild apprehension at the topic on hand, you relied on your trusty, silver-tongued wit to pull you through.

“Well not all of us were raised in the fox’s den of the Forest House.”

“That’s for damn sure. It’s definitely not for the weak.”

You could feel Nesta’s apprehension. You didn’t often speak about the horrors you often witnessed and endured while living as a courtier under Beron’s rule. It was obvious that she wanted to comfort you but didn’t exactly know how, as it wasn’t really in her nature.

Your gaze returned back to the book in your hand, your thighs clenching as you tried to dampen the arousal stemming from the filthy scene gracing the pages. A comfortable silence washed over both of you until Nesta spoke up and threw you for a loop. “You should join us sometime.”

You sat in shock for a few seconds, trying to digest the true meaning of her words. She couldn’t actually be inviting you to sleep with her and Cassian right?

She glanced over at you and her steely gaze raked over your tense body, “No words, love? I thought we just discussed how to have a conversation.” You must be dreaming because this was exactly what she was doing. She was absolutely inviting you to warm their bed with them.

You took a deep breath and tried your best to get your quivering heart under control. 

“Well, I - I feel like an invitation like that necessitates a joint offer from both of you.” 

Nesta smirked at you and tilted her head, “Trust me, sweetheart. It’s a joint offer.” Your cheeks flushed madly and you lightly gasped. The idea of Nesta wanting you was almost too much. Both of them wanting you and agreeing to invite you to their bed? Completely unfathomable.

With his utterly perfect timing, Cassian chose this exact moment to stroll into the living room - coming in from a late afternoon training session. He was of course - because the Mother hated you - shirtless. Your eyes roamed over his glistening muscles, finding your face heating up even more. “And what are you two ladies up to on this fine evening?”

Without looking up at him, “Not much, just mentioning to her what we spoke about the other night.” Cassian perked up at this and slowly strolled over to your side. Addressing just you, “And what do you think about that, love? We’d love for you to join us sometime if you’d like to.”

You peered up at him and decided to play coy, pretending that your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest. “Definitely intriguing, Maybe you’ll see later just how intriguing it is.”

Nesta smirked at your vague acceptance before placing a hand on your thigh and turned to Cassian. “How about you go take a shower - you could use one - and maybe there will be a surprise for you when you’re done.”

He chuckled and sauntered off to their bedroom. She looked over to you, checking for any sign of apprehension. Finding none, she raised a hand to cup your cheek as she looked into your eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright with this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” You smiled at this.

“Nes, I haven’t exactly hidden how attractive I find you - both of you, to be honest. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

She visibly relaxed at your assurance. “In that case, come with me.” She grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

Cassian was already in the shower and she guided you to sit back on the bed, calves dangling off the end. Nesta placed her hands on your shoulders before moving to sit in your lap, her legs caging yours. 

Your arms wrapped around her hips, pulling her close to you. She tilted your chin up and leaned down to kiss you. Her soft lips melded against yours as her tongue slipped into your mouth. You were completely content to let her take control. 

One of her hands grabbed yours and slid it down to knead at her ass. You continued to kiss, slowly getting more and more heated as you shed each other’s clothes. Completely forgetting about Cassian in the restroom, you were both almost naked save for small scraps of lace covering your chest. 

When Cassian emerged from the washroom, he just leaned against the doorjamb and watched you. Nesta had shifted you up the bed and was perched on top of you as you laid down. “Am I interrupting something?”, Nesta quickly grabbed a pillow and blindly chucked it at his face. 

You softly pushed both of you up into a sitting position before pulling away from her, “Nes, be nice to him.”

She smirked back at you as her steely eyes ravaged your bare form, “I’ll be nice once he deserves it,” she turned to face Cassian - “You can go wait over there until we’re done and you know better than to touch yourself.”

Cassian sauntered over to the armchair facing the bed. Nesta clambered out of your lap and stood at the edge of the bed. You leaned back on your forearms and looked at her as she kissed up and down your legs. Suddenly, she grasped your ankles and pulled you to her.

She kneeled down and wrapped her hands around your hips as she licked and nipped up your thighs. You brushed a piece of her hair behind her pointed ear before she leaned in to softly lick at your clit. 

Pleasure struck all throughout your body, making your toes curl. She moaned into your wet cunt as her lips wrapped around your clit. You glanced over at Cassian - he was leaning back into the chair, knuckles white with how hard he was gripping the arms of the chair. 

You whipped your head back to Nesta as she nibbled on your bud, causing a new wave of slick arousal to gush out of you. “Eyes on me, love,” She returned her attention to your center as two of her slim fingers slipped inside you. 

The pads of her fingers brushed against that spot inside you, causing light moans and whispered expletives to spill from your mouth. You could hear Cassian writhing in his chair, struggling more and more to stay still as he watched his mate devour your wet cunt. 

Your arousal was starting to overwhelm you, feeling like a wave pulling you under. The pressure started building from the pleasure Nesta’s hands and mouth were giving you and you gave into the bliss washing over you.

Stars graced your fading vision as your hearing muffled. You vaguely registered her moans as you gushed over Nesta’s face and hands. Your floating mind drifted back to your body as she licked the wetness off your thighs and whispered praises, “Good girl, always so good for me.”

She kneeled on the bed next to you, kissing you before swiftly moving you into a sitting position. You looked over at Cassian and smirked. His chest was heaving and his hands were running up and down his thighs, doing his best not to grip his throbbing cock. You slyly motioned him over to you before Nesta grabbed your hand.

“Not yet, he’ll move when I say he can.” 

You glanced over at Nesta and scoffed. “Please Nes, look at him. He’s going to cum just sitting there if you ignore him any longer.”

She glanced back over at him, “Fine, come over here.”

Cassian practically jumped out of the chair and kneeled on the other side of you, running his palm soothingly over your thigh. You glanced down at his cock and lightly gripped it at the base, feeling him twitch in your hand.

You smiled up at him as he groaned at the warmth of your hand. He walked around to stand between your legs, kissing them up and down. “So pretty, doing so well for us.”

His praise immediately went to your head, your hips lightly bucking up towards him. Cassian smirked at you before lightly running his fingers through your wet folds. “Needy tonight, aren’t you?”

You barely suppressed a growl at his teasing, “Be careful, Cassian. Nes and I could easily just ignore you again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He smirked down at you before wrapping your legs around his hips and thrusting into you. The full force of him filling up your cunt knocked the breath out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for air as your eyes rolled back in your head.

Nesta gripped your hand and caressed your hair, aiding your heart in returning to a normal rhythm. “Breathe, love. Just relax.” 

His cock felt amazing, brushing up against the best spots inside you in just the right way. “Oh, Mother help me - fucking hell!”

Cassian’s searing grip on your thighs heightens the sensations, already pushing you towards another orgasm. Nesta softly kneaded your breasts for a few moments before moving up to your head, climbing over you, and settling her wet cunt over your face. 

Your hands rose up to her hips, pulling her center down onto your mouth. She moaned and pulled at your hair as your tongue swept through her folds. “Shit baby, right there. Just like that.”

Nesta started to grind her hips above you, spreading her slick all over your face. Her sweetness enhanced your arousal, having you clenching around Cassian’s cock. “Oh that’s it, keep eating that sweet cunt while I stretch you out.” Cassian’s hips bucked into you at a rapid pace, his cock twitching inside of you.

Nesta’s moans pitched up and her breath caught in her throat as she fell over the edge. Her thighs tightened around your head, her slick gushing over your face and chest. Feeling her cum drip off your face unraveled the knot in your core, sending you reeling as you came on Cassian’s cock.

He groaned as you tightened around him and he spilled inside you. Nesta climbed off of you and disappeared into the washroom. As Cassian slowly pulled out of you, Nesta came back with a washcloth and gently wiped you down as Cassian massaged your shaking legs.

Nesta pulled you up and into the middle of the bed, squishing you in between her and Cassian as you cuddled on the bed. You shrugged on Cassian’s discarded shirt, curling up between them. 

Taglist:

@honethatty12 @sweet-chai-amore @helo1281917 @scarsandallaz @thatacotargirl @a-courtof-azriel @lmadness @riorgail @lilah-asteria @littlepippilongstocking @d3ad-ins1de @paleidiot @holypizzaqueen @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @vgyjngff @fourthwing4ever @scorpioriesling

[sunkissedscribbles]

Do You Still Care?

pairing: bf!mattheo x fem!gryffindor!chaser!reader

genre: angst

tw: mental health issues on y/n’s side (briefly) mentioned, mention of sex, swearing

word count: 5112

summary: mattheo’s plan to see if you still care backfires completely and ends with a breakup, but are you two able to resolve what's gone wrong?

Songs: the way i loved you - taylor swift (lyrics used), scared of my guitar - olivia rodrigo

a/n: thanks for the help @inksoakedparchment <3

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

The promise ring landed on the cold stone flooring of the Slytherin common room with a metallic clink as you dropped the silver jewellery to catch Mattheo’s attention. You were both disappointed and frustrated with him because the last thing you thought you’d see when stepping into the Slytherin commons was a girl, clearly not you, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap.

Mattheo, clearly enjoying himself as he had his hands on the girl’s waist, turned his head to look at you. The shine left his eyes as they met yours, but his gaze soon dropped to the ring he bought you for your second anniversary, which was now on the floor. It stirred something in him, even the thought of it not being on your finger, where it belonged didn’t sit right in him. But he had to hide his pain. He knew he couldn’t break now.

Your facial muscles hardened as you crossed your arms in front of your chest, eyeing your boyfriend angrily, the girl in his lap oblivious to everything around her as all she cared about was that she got the privilege of touching Mattheo Riddle.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you exclaimed coldly, closing off the emotions and locking them up before they could overtake you. If he plays the indifferent, so are you.

This snapped Mattheo out of his trance as he realized he took it too far, and that his plan backfired. “What? No, Y/N, you can’t just say that-“

“Well, yeah, I can,” you spat and shook your head as you eyed the girl from a year below you in his lap and with a scoff, you added, “We’re over, Mattheo.”

“No, you’re overreacting,” he practically pushed the girl off his lap as he got up to be at eye level with you. Walking up to you, he took the promise ring from the floor and held it up for you between his thumb and index fingers. “We’re good together, princess. I love you, you love me. You can’t break up with me,” he shook his head as he tried to hold a desperate sound back, trying hard to maintain this cold facade he mastered throughout the years — the one he only let fall completely when he was around you.

You pushed his hand with the ring away as you spoke up angrily, “But I’m not going to be a second choice every time you see a pretty girl!” and without warning, you turned around and walked out of the common room.

He was still shocked as he stared at your ring between his fingers. This was a stupid game, he shouldn’t have done this. You were his first real girlfriend. The first serious relationship and the last he wanted to ever end. Why did he flirt with a girl in the first place even? It was because you two had been arguing a lot lately, which only resulted in your relationship becoming more of a competition of who can shut down more and keep the indifferent, cold act up. You needed time because it had always been hard for you to express your feelings the moment they appeared — you needed to digest them and let them digest you before you could finally get them off your chest in one way or another. But the more you kept it for yourself the more he thought you were falling out of love with him and didn’t care about him anymore. That’s why he came up with this idea; to make you jealous to see if you did still care. He was only now thinking about how he should’ve given you the time you needed to open up.

You hadn't even talked to him for weeks, trying to push the pain of the breakup down by focusing on other things: your studies, friends, yourself and you were working on erasing Mattheo from your life. And how could you make yourself forget about that twat? By replacing him.

Not the most logical thing to do, for sure and it only complicated things even more, but you got together with Michael Corner from Ravenclaw. It wasn't quite a mature thing to do, especially when Michael did actually have feelings for you and you knew how you'd regret this later because it could only end in pain on one of your side. Because if he found out you — let's be real — used him, he'd get heartbroken and angry. But if he didn't find out, you'd be unhappy with him which he probably wouldn't even notice. So, this is how you got yourself trapped in this vicious circle.

Mattheo, on the other hand, had been acting like a complete douchebag since you'd broken up with him. Not that he had been that nice before. But now the number of the fights he got himself into had severely increased, he started acting colder than anytime else before, and he started looking through you like you weren't even there. He also lost interest in his studies almost completely, his marks dropping lower and lower each day. Or, well, his enquiry had decreased to practising the jinxes and hexes he'd learnt on other students, and getting rid of his excess energy and frustration on the Quidditch pitch. Each and every time he saw you, it just annoyed him so much. He didn't like you with this new other guy, he hated how you seemed to enjoy your life without him so easily. He despised Michael, hated the way he talked with that stupid Welsh accent, and how he always seemed to have his goddamn hand on your waist, right where he had his when you two were together. No one other than him had the right to touch you, in his opinion, and he couldn't stand the mental image of you with someone else. He missed seeing the way your face lit up every time you got excited about something, he missed how your pretty eyes were sparkling and shining when you looked at him. He missed you, and how it had been before things started going spiralling down with all those many and frequent arguments lately. He was miserable and as much as it is selfish, he wanted you to feel just as bad.

But leading the word back to you, erasing him from your life had been harder than you make it seem to be. But knowing his grades were dropping and seeing him acting like a total arse to everyone all you could think of is how this all is your fault, how you were the source of causes behind him changing this seriously.

By the time the day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match came, students were betting on either team or even making it complicated as "Potter will catch the Snitch but Slytherin will win." Of course, they were; every year this is the biggest match between all houses since the rivalry is the worst between these two houses. It's even worse than a World Cup — it's like boys comparing their sizes. It's no different this year either. The Beaters aren't playing as 'nicely' as they do against Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff — they don't only hit the Bludgers with their bats but the Beaters, and occasionally, the Chasers of the opposing team, too, and the Chasers go on the speed they normally would.

You were manoeuvring with the Quaffle in your hand across the field while Mattheo tried to take you down by crossing your way. Yes, he wanted to win and wanted you to lose for once but despite being as angry and frustrated with you, he couldn't bring himself to tackle you down with a Bludger. How could he? Yes, you broke up with him but that doesn't mean anyone can hurt you. You are his princess, Merlin forbid anyone touching you.

"Twat," you muttered to yourself as Mattheo passes you by, but then set off with greater speed to score another against Slytherin, making it 140-100 for Gryffindor. Soon, Slytherin scored too, as Theo got the Quaffle in his hands, but as you set off to get the ball back, a Bludger coming from Goyle hit your broom. This caused you to lose your balance and your grip on the broom handle.

Mattheo watched in horror as you were hanging from your broom, in the air, among the flying balls and students. His mind immediately went blank as he witnessed the scene before his eyes and he forgot all about the game. Without thinking about it any further, he set off in your direction instantly and wrapped an arm around your waist to save you from falling, and before you’d known, you were sitting behind him on the broom.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“Making sure you don’t fall, you idiot,” he exclaimed, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest as you held onto him tight. Merlin, he missed your body close to his so much.

“Thanks,” you muttered reluctantly, trying to push down ann the feelings that lingered in you for him still.

“Don’t mention it,” he shook his head with a cold tone as he took you to the ground to get your broom back from where it’d fallen. He didn’t want to let go of you, he wanted you to stay pressed up against him, just to feel your arms around him, your warm breath tickling the soft skin of his neck. But he knew he had to let go. You have moved on, you don’t even talk.

Muttering another ‘Thanks’ when you got off from behind him, you went to grab the broomstick. He hopped off his broom too, watching as your delicate figure walked away from him frustratedly, trying to keep up the image that this hadn’t affected him at all, which took him back to how much he hated your new boyfriend. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, you two should’ve lived happily ever after like you two had dreamed.

And now, after the brief moment together, he hated the Ravenclaw boy even more.

“Don’t forget the game is still going on. Or are you worried about your little boyfriend seeing us together?” the mocking words rolled off his tongue without him even thinking about what he was saying.

Your blood boiled at his comment, but when your eyes flickered to the Ravenclaw stands, seeing Michael in all Gryffindor colours, you somehow didn’t feel guilty for the Ravenclaw boy witnessing this scene with you and your ex-boyfriend. “Jealous?” You spat at Mattheo and rolled your eyes, gripping your broomstick.

He let out a sarcastic scoff and following suit, he rolled his eyes. “Jealous? Of the nerd?”

Of course he was jealous, but he couldn’t possibly admit it. This was a game of who is the most stubborn to admit their true feelings. And he wasn’t going to lose. But it took everything in him not to just push you back to the ground, climb on top of you and fuck kiss you until you forget your goddamn boyfriend’s name.

“Yeah. Jealous ‘cause I’m with him?” You stepped back. Michael is a nice guy, you had to give him that. But he’s not Mattheo. Michael wasn’t by far the one you wanted, not who you loved. He didn’t have those mesmerizing chocolate eyes that stared into your soul and shined when he was looking at you, he didn’t have the dark curls you instinctively raked your fingers through after a long day when he was lying on top of you, using your breasts as a pillow and listening to your heartbeat like it was a music you composed only for him.

His eyes remained on you, and that little statement made him snap on an instant. He threw his broom onto the ground to be able to step closer and pull you in by the waist and flush your body against his. By this time, he had completely forgotten about the match going on — not that you had thought about that at this moment either. It was just the two of you again, even if just for a moment, even if it was only arguing with your ex-boyfriend. “Damn right, I’m jealous. He gets to touch you. He gets to kiss you. I hate it.”

“He can see this. Us. Everyone can,” you instinctively gripped onto his upper arms as your bodies stayed pressed against each other while glaring into his eyes. You couldn’t deny that you missed this closeness with him. Because your heart still only desired him and had no space for anyone else in it.

Mattheo glanced around, seeing the people and players looking at the two of you. But he didn’t actually give a damn about that right then. He was completely focused on you, his eyes burning with jealousy and a hint of desire. His hands remained on your waist as he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you without a care in the world about the public. “Do I look like I care?”

“No. We both know that’s not something you normally do,” you freed yourself from his grip as you made the snarky comment about the girl in his lap before grabbing your broom again and setting off to continue the match. How dare he come at you with how jealous he is after what he’d done? Bloody git.

The team was cheering after Harry had caught the Snitch, right when Katie scored through a hoop one last time, making the final score 340-250 for Gryffindor. When Crabbe’s Bludger hit you and you fell off your broom, leading to the ominous conversation with Mattheo, the Gryffindor team lost you, a damn good Chaser for enough time for Slytherin to win over the points, so when Crabbe scolded Mattheo for technically saving you, no one was surprised.

The stout boy yelled after Mattheo, who was currently leaving the pitch, enraged. “What the fuck was that?” Crabbe echoed, following the curly-haired boy. “It’s our job to get those bloody Gryffindors off their brooms and I had Y/L/N! She’s the best Chaser on that fucking team! Without her, we would’ve won! But you had to go and save her like the damn Prince Charming you are?!”

Mattheo clenched his jaw as Crabbe shouted at him, his arms crossed against his chest. He knew that Crabbe was right. It wasn’t his smartest move to save your ass, but deep down he also knew that no one should harm you. He was not losing you.

“So what? You want me to let you take her down or something? And yes, I’m the one to save her because she’s the only goddamn person worth saving in this whole world.”

You overheard his words and your whole body froze. Suddenly, all other noises, your team’s and the other students’ happy cheers were tuned out, you could only hear Mattheo’s words repeating in your head. Your heart was already pumping ten times faster, and stronger as well, you could hear the drum, the fast da-dum in your ears. The only person worth saving? You?

“Fuck, mate! What happened to the dickhead you’ve been since you two broke up?” Crabbe continued spitting in Matt’s face. “I started to think you got some sense when she dumped you! She’s just a dumb Gryffindor who likes being the centre of attention, dude, grow up! She’s not like us, not worth your time! Just some basic ass bitch — but she’s fuckable, I give you that”

Mattheo could feel his anger and rage building within him, but he tried to keep his cool, knowing that if he snapped, there would be no stopping him. He glanced in your direction, seeing you standing in the distance, watching him and Crabbe. He clenched his jaw as Crabbe called you a 'dumb Gryffindor', as he said you’re not worth his time. But the last comment, about you only being some nice piece of meat, made him snap. He suddenly sprang closer to Crabbe and pushing him against the wall of the changing rooms, Mattheo pinned him the boy twice his size there, relentlessly gripping his Quidditch robes.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you piece of shit,” he spat at Crabbe. “You don't even know her. You don't have the right to talk about her, you don't have the right to say her name! And if you dare talk about her like that again, I will tear you limb from limb!” he growled at the other boy in a low voice, his eyes darkened by anger and rage.

“Aw, Riddle, you gone soft for her. Is shagging her this nice?” Crabbe, being taller and bigger in a sense that’s not muscle mass laughed at Mattheo with a grin, not realizing the next thing Mattheo would do for sure was breaking his nose.

But before he could have done any damage to the boy, you pulled Mattheo away, knowing there would be nothing that could stop him from potentially sending Crabbe into a coma and himself in detention. For you. Because of you. Again.

When your hands grabbed onto his biceps to pull him back, his fingers instinctively softened on the fabric of Crabbe’s robes, knowing your touch like the back of his palm. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him as you held onto him and pulled him back, the urge to spin around and kiss you growing stronger than any, but he was still too pissed over Crabbe’s words.

“He’s not worth it. Just some douchebag,” you muttered to Mattheo when he started to try to escape your arms, Theo helping you by using a muting charm on Crabbe in order to keep him from saying anything else that would anger Mattheo even further. Partly angrily, you shoved him under a rain of cold water in the changing rooms to have him come to his senses, still in your Quidditch robes.

The cold shower snapped him out of the haze of anger Crabbe’s words put him into, his breathing returning back from feral to normal as he faced you in the shower, his hair soaking wet and his robes already dripping too — your clothes were somewhat damp as well by that time. “I’m not sure if I would’ve been able to stop myself back there,” he shook his head slightly.

“I know,” you just nodded, while in an internal fight between love and hate where you had no idea which one to let win.

Mattheo, knowing you more than anyone else, instantly knew what you were thinking, now that he was finally focusing on you and not on keeping the cold facade up in front of you. He could feel his dark curls stick to his forehead as they were soaking wet, still standing under the cold water. He looks at you for a moment before speaking up. “Just scream at me. Shout whatever you want.”

You wanted to scream, and shout, just like he had told you to. But you knew you had to stay away from him emotionally because it would only lead to you breaking down in front of him, which would probably end in a position with him that would be considered cheating on Michael. Your boyfriend. Mattheo wasn’t your boyfriend anymore, for fuck’s sake!

You shook your head. “No,” you scoffed and turned the water off before taking a step back. “Thanks for defending me. And saving my ass. But we’re over,” you said, your demeanour cold and distant as you turned around and walked away.

Mattheo's eyes widened in shock as he heard you say you were over, again. The panic and pain that washed over him got the best of him and quickly grabbed your arm again and turned you around, forcing you to face him again. He didn't want to lose you completely, not like this, not because of his own stupidity. "You don't mean that," he shook his head as he spoke up in desperation.

"Yes, I do," you scoffed angrily. No, in fact, you did not mean it at all. "You were openly flirting with that Slytherin, she was looking at you like she had given you head earlier! Oh, or had she? Why did you go and have to do that?"

Mattheo's expression turned from desperate to frustrated in no time as he clenched his jaw. He took a step closer to you, his voice growing more agitated. "Damn, Y/N, I was just messing around, I-"

"Messing around?" you cut in with an irritated scoff, covering the pain of betrayal. "When you had a girlfriend? Are you insane?" you pushed him back to make him stumble a bit and let go of your arm, on the verge of crying out of frustration and hurt.

At your refusal to trust him, his frustration and annoyance only grew, showing in a sigh and a scowl as you pushed him away. "I've never done anything with her! I would never do anything with her, Y/N. I don't want anyone else but you, don't you get that?"

"I don't care! I don't want someone who's doing things behind my back! Next time you get someone pregnant and tell me you were only messing around?!" you shook your head as the first set of tears started running down your cheek.

Mattheo felt his anger being replaced by a sense of shock and pain as he got accused of ever being able to cheat on you. "Damn it, Y/N, I'd never do anything with anyone else! I just... I just wanted to get a reaction out of you."

"Why?" you ran a frustrated hand through your hair while shaking your head. You started to lose it, not understanding the situation by now.

"Because I'm a moron, okay?" he scoffed bitterly. "Because I knew you'd get jealous if you saw me like that. We were falling out and I wanted to see if you still cared!" he spilt, to which a gobsmacked and frustrated expression got painted on your face. He thought you stopped caring about him?

I mean, sure, you two had started falling out and you two did argue a lot in the past month or two, but it wasn't at all because you didn't care about him anymore. You just couldn't quite word what was happening inside you. And right when you were finally ready and stepped into the common room to fill him in and come clean, he was sitting there, on the couch with another girl in his lap.

Suddenly the few little tears turned into rivers as fat drops rushed down both your cheeks, out of all the anger, frustration, sadness and disappointment that have built up in the past few weeks. You backed off, towards the door but as he saw you do that with the heavy rain of tears that were streaming down your face, his eyes welled up as well and he warily took a step closer to you to pull you into a tight embrace while muttering "No, no, no, don't cry." You gave in to the similarity of his touch and leaned into it for a second before coming to your senses and pulling away, knowing Michael was waiting for you outside.

Mattheo watched you suddenly abort the physical contact between the two of you, his expression quickly changing to confusion and disappointment as you stepped back. He didn't have to see the boy to know the reason behind your motions. "No, wait," he reached out and grabbed your wrist to turn you around with a desperate voice and a pleading tone. "Don't go. Please, don't go with him."

"I have to," you replied as you were forced to look into his eyes but you couldn't mask the pain anymore. "He's my boyfriend."

Those words felt like a punch to the gut for Mattheo, shattering the remains of his heart into a million little pieces. Hearing you call Michael Corner your boyfriend caused a wave of pain and anger to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw, his grip on your wrist only growing firmer the more desperate he became. "You don't have to, that's the point. You're with me, not him. You're mine, not his."

Your blood boiling, you freed your wrist from his tight grip exasperatedly. "You don't fucking own me, Mattheo Thomas Riddle"

"Damn it, I know I don't! I never said that. But we belong together, Y/N/N. You know you don't love him. Not like you love me."

He dares to call you by your nickname?

"Unfortunately," you spit, "that's not your fucking business anymore."

This is how we get to the present day. You broke things off with Michael yesterday after guilt got too much for you to handle, after realizing you can't possibly keep stringing him along like some dog, you can't use him to drown the feelings you have for Mattheo. And this is why you are currently in the music room on the fifth floor. It has always been like some sort of shelter for you. It's never judged, had a piano you played with preference and you could just sit down and live up to your artistic skills. You wrote your poems and songs here.

Mattheo knows. Not about the break-up but how much time you spend in this classroom. He sometimes accompanied you as well, while you two were together. So, when he doesn't find you in your room after hearing you ended things with Michael, this is where he looks for you.

You're sitting by the piano, playing the instrument in question, singing something you wrote a few days prior. And Mattheo's only watching, standing by the door, listening to your beautiful, usually soothing but now oh-so-troubled voice, paying attention to how your delicate fingers dance over the keys.

"...He can't see the smile I'm faking And my heart's not breaking 'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all And you were wild and crazy Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated Got away by some mistake and now

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you..."

It's a gasp that snaps you out of the song and your focus is instantly shifted the moment you turn to look at the person the sound came from, and you find yourself facing Mattheo. He's feeling guilty, but then again, the knowledge that you miss him makes him feel proud and a strange sense of happiness flows through him. It fills him with the hope that maybe, just maybe there is a chance to make this thing work between the two of you.

"Are you following me?" you ask, scoffing as you shut your feelings out again when looking at him.

"Maybe I am," he admits with a shrug, trying to feign nonchalance. He glances at the piano before shifting his attention back to you, and saying, "heard you playing."

"No shit, Sherlock," you bark bark back at him.

"This was about me, wasn't it?" he steps to the piano and looks down at you after closing the door.

"About comparing you and Michael," you correct him.

"And what's the point in that?"

"To remind myself how I love an obnoxious prick instead of someone who's kind and caring," you roll your eyes.

Mattheo scowls at your insult and crosses his arms defensively. "I'm not obnoxious. I'm not going to pretend to be someone else to fit your definition of 'kind' and 'caring.'"

"I miss my Mattheo," you exclaim coldly. "" Who was like that, with me. Who didn't try to make me jealous because he was fucked in the head and thought I didn't care!"

He sighs in frustration, running his hand through his hair. "I still am that Mattheo. I never stopped being him. I was just trying to get a reaction out of you, to see if you cared at all. Nothing with that girl was serious."

You scoff. "And now you expect me to just forgive and forget for choosing not to talk about the very obvious problem but to go the easier way?"

Exasperated by the conversation, he shakes his head. "No. No, I don't expect you to do that so easily. I know what I did was wrong, okay? I know I messed up. But I was angry and frustrated because we were fighting almost every day for weeks and you weren't making it any easier by not telling me about how you were feeling. I-I was worried about you and then I was worried for us, for the future we've planned. I acted unreasonably and the next thing I know is you taking your ring off and me losing you because of my own stupidity."

Taken aback, you shake your head with thoughts of all kinds going through your head. He still loves you, how could you deny him? "I told you I had something going on that I wasn't able to talk about yet," you shake your head.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I should've given you the time and I should've been patient. But I feared I was losing you," he lets out a guilty, ragged breath. "I'm not begging you, but I'm not giving up on you, on us either. I'm sorry, I miss you," he says, tapping his fingertips on top of the piano as he looks down at you.

Letting out a relieved sigh at hearing the genuineness of his tone and words, you get up from the instrument and step toward him, taking his hand in yours, thus making both of your hearts skip a beat before they start to beat more rapidly. The truth is, you don't think he could ever do anything that'd make you stop loving him.

"I'm sorry and I miss you too," you reply softly, making him smile while the shine returns to his chocolate eyes as he looks at you. He reaches into his pocket, then holds the promise ring you've taken off out for you. He's been having it in his pocket since that day, and on his nightstand at night. "May I?"

With a small yet genuine smile, you nod and hold your hand out for him, and after returning it to where it belongs, he kisses your hand gently. "I'll never let you go again."

"You better."

taglist: @inksoakedparchment @mqstermindswift @reys-letters

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.