#I fell off of reading the updates as they came out early on this chapter

[thejangisautistic]

Very fun watching out of context posts about updates float across my dash. I have no idea what's going on and at this point I'm too afraid to ask.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 6

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: um... CLIFFHANGER?

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.4k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter 6 is here early!!! holy shit. this is the second to last chapter of take a bite, so next week's update will wrap everything up! i don't want to give too much away about what happens in this one, but just for reference... um. P.S. i'm sorry in advance. P.P.S. thank you so much tanni @love4myg for beta reading this chapter for me! you saved my wordy ass from publishing so many run-on sentences.

Chapter 6: Y’all Ain’t Never Been To A Party Before?

“Y/N, YOU WHORE!”

So, many things are happening. Holy shit.

First, to your surprise, midnight kimchijeon with Yoongi last night very quickly devolved into more sex.

You had been a little bit anxious while you watched him cook, and even more anxious while you both ate in relative silence, that the weirdness coming off of Yoongi in waves at the mention of Yijeong had effectively killed the vibe. Thankfully, being bent over his kitchen counter and fucked into oblivion did wonders to kill that worry before it fully took root.

It was… You’ve never been fucked quite like that before. Practically drooling onto the marble beneath you as he pounded into you, his hands gripping at your ass, his gravelly voice in your ear, growling “thank me again. You wanna come? Thank me for fucking you like this, come on, show me how much you fucking like it,” and you did. Fuck, he was mean, but you liked it, you liked it so much.

For somebody who very openly prefers to remain completely stationary (and horizontal, if he can help it), Yoongi sure has a fuckton of stamina. So… score.

Second, due to said stamina and your resulting exhaustion following round two, you ended up staying over at Yoongi’s apartment last night. Which was not the plan originally, but both you and Yoongi were unconvinced that you could safely make the journey down the hall back to your own apartment. When the opportunity to crash on a purple mattress presented itself so enticingly, you were powerless to resist.

You both fell asleep very tired and very unclothed, the latter of which probably would’ve resulted in even more sex come morning—sex you were very much looking forward to—if you hadn’t awoken to approximately seven trillion notifications on your phone from Rina, scaring the absolute piss out of you and forcing you to leave a very confused Yoongi to deal with his morning wood all by his lonesome. 

It’s around eleven in the morning, the latest you’ve slept in months, when you roll into your own apartment, sleep-mussed and fucked out.

Which brings you to the third thing.

Rina is here. Like, here. In your apartment. Not in Paris.

Breaking the sound barrier with her excitement as she looks you up and down, in all of your walk-of-shame glory.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice still scratchy with sleep. You toss your keys on the closest flat surface to give Rina a very confused hug. You missed her, of course. Terribly so, and that outweighs anything else. But also, what?

“What weren’t you doing here?” Rina quips, squeezing you tight in return. “And please tell me the answer is Yoongi.”

It dawns on you that you and Rina haven’t really spoken since you actually went through with everything, being in different time zones and all. ‘Yoongi invited me to his studio where he produces music and then made me come with his tongue so hard I almost died’ didn’t seem like an announcement to be made over text.

“I don’t think that makes sense,” you mumble into her shoulder before pulling away, sheepish. “But yes, I was at Yoongi’s.”

“Slut,” Rina squeals, her hands latching onto your shoulders and shaking you. “I need to meet him.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes widen instantly, slight panic overtaking you as you glance back at your door. You know Rina, and you know that she is not above striding over to Yoongi’s apartment right now and getting a good eyeful for herself.

“Oh my god, Rina, no.” You grab Rina’s hands firmly, pleading. “He’s barely even awake. I promise I’ll tell you every last detail if you don’t do that, holy shit.”

She laughs, pulling her hands away to cross her arms, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. “I’m waiting.”

You sigh, trudging into your kitchen to start a pot of coffee, since you’re clearly going to need it.

“Tell me why you’re in my apartment first,” you say, fishing two mugs out of a cabinet and setting them on the counter. “Not that I mind, but… Paris?”

After the coffee is brewed and doled out, you both move to your couch for a much-needed debriefing of the past few weeks. 

Over your steaming mugs, Rina explains to you that she has come to the liberating realization that the show will in fact go on without her. 

Her stint in Paris, as fun and fabulous as it was, also made her lonely, and once she was confident the theatre company she was collaborating with would do her work justice without her helicoptering over them, Rina immediately booked the first flight to you.

She plans to stick around for an undetermined period of time, as long as you’ll have her, if you’re okay with that—duh, you tell her with a flick to the forehead—and then go home to her boyfriend for a much-needed hiatus from theatre.

Rina tells you everything about Paris: the sightseeing, the shopping. Her show, the reaction it garnered. In return, you give her all of the gory details about Yoongi. All of them, because she’ll sense it if you leave anything out.

You tell her about the night in his studio, how you deliberated and deliberated until you finally gave in, and how you were rewarded with Yoongi’s head between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved.

You tell her about the horribly inappropriate and ridiculously hot sexting that took place in your open floor plan office, how he described in detail what he was going to do to you when he finally got the chance. You hand your phone over without a fight when she demands to read the messages herself, staring down into your mug as she screeches with delight while reading.

You tell her about last night, how Yoongi made good on all of his promises and then some. How he took his time learning the cues of your body. And about the kimchijeon, because it’s really unfair that Yoongi seems to be good at everything.

Rina whistles lowly, raising an eyebrow at you as she takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Okay, I really need to meet him now,” she says.

“There was a weird moment,” you lament, sinking into the couch. “I might be overthinking—”

“Most likely—”

“But, there was definitely a moment,” you continue, firm. You know what you saw. “I got this killer opportunity at work to write about this producer, and Yoongi knows him, so I asked him to put in a good word for me, and he, like, froze up for a second. I don’t know.”

“Was that before or after he fucked your brains out?”

You snort, mumbling into your coffee as you go for a sip. “Between.”

“Okay, so, he’s probably over it if he went back for seconds,” Rina reasons, shrugging. “Why don’t you just ask him about it?”

You shake your head. “If he’s moved past it, I don’t want to bring it up again and risk popping the sex bubble we’re in,” you say. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking. Yoongi’s Yoongi. He would’ve said no if he really wasn’t cool with it.”

Rina hums, nodding sagely. “Don’t pop the sex bubble,” she agrees. “It’s your job, anyway. Using your connections. I’m sure he’s dealt with reporters before, being who he is. He probably gets it.”

Your phone buzzes, and you set your mug down to fish it out from between the couch cushions. “Yeah.”

Speak of the devil.

Once you grab hold of your phone, you’re greeted with a text from Yoongi. It seems he’s been busy since your abrupt departure. 

[11:58] Yoongi: Spoke to Yijeong. He’s going to be at a label party tonight and he’s down to meet you if you’ll go. I’ll take you.

And then, another.

[11:58] Yoongi: Kind of a fancy thing, though. Cocktail attire. Lmk. 

Normally you’d dread everything he’s proposing—uncomfortable shoes at a party where you don’t know a soul wouldn’t be your first choice for a Saturday night—but you find yourself biting your lip to mask the stupid grin forming on your face. You’re getting your interview and there’s a high possibility you’ll get to see Yoongi in a suit? Everything’s coming up Y/N. 

You lift your gaze from your phone to Rina, who looks at you expectantly. 

“Bring any dresses back with you from Paris?”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi swings by to pick you up hours later, you’re more than a little grateful you share a dress size with your best friend. 

Rina did, in fact, bring dresses back with her from Paris, and the second this particular one slipped onto your body she had no choice but to declare that it was yours.

It’s just your style—black, simple, form-fitting enough that you look fucking good in it, but long enough to wear to what is essentially a work event. Lace detailing on the bodice. A teasing slit up the side. And it’s from Paris, and while you don’t particularly love the French for much, they can make a damn garment. Yeah, you want to be buried in this dress.

Yoongi leans against the door jamb, not the slightest bit subtle as his eyes rake over you. You smirk to yourself as you bend down to get your heels on. 

“Pretty dress,” he says, though his tone does little to mask what he’s really thinking. Fuck the party. Under any other circumstances, you’d agree, but duty calls.

“It’s hers,” you say, standing upright and jerking your chin back in Rina’s direction. Rina, who is lingering in your kitchen, very obviously exercising all of her restraint not to crowd Yoongi right now and inspect him like a toy. 

“It’s yours,” she corrects, gritting the words out. Good thing you made her promise to be normal.

You take a moment to look at Yoongi, who, to your delight, is wearing a suit. Black, like your dress. What a pair the two of you make.

“You clean up nice,” you say, drinking in the sight of him just as shamelessly as he did to you. Letting your eyes speak for you.

The suit is simple, also like your dress, but the long lines accentuate his legs, making him look taller. Crisp white shirt. Black tie. Hair styled out of his face. He looks good, and he knows it. You can tell in the way he’s carrying himself.

Yoongi hums, smirking. “So I’ve heard.” He glances behind you, at Rina, and then back at you. “The playwright? Rina?”

You nod, surprised that he was able to recall her name. 

He looks back at Rina, smiling at her. “How was Paris?”

The memory on this man. 

“Great,” Rina says tightly. You’re almost proud of her.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says, eyebrow raising at the weird tension wafting from your kitchen.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says emphatically, and you snort.

“Ah.” You note that the tips of Yoongi’s ears are pink. Yours would be too, if you were in a room with two people who discussed the way you fuck in-depth. “Good things, I hope.”

“Ready to go?” you chirp as you grab your bag, taking pity on Rina. Any more and she’ll snap, you’re sure of it.

Yoongi nods and steps back into the hallway, allowing you to slip out the door. 

“Nice to meet you,” he calls to Rina as you shut the door, and then you’re both moving.

★ ★ ★

The ride to the party itself is uneventful. Although you’re giddy at the confirmation that the sex bubble has indeed remained unpopped, the second you’re seated in Yoongi’s car you shift into work mode. 

The tiny notepad you’d stuffed in your bag is now clutched in your hand, and the near silence in the car is only interrupted with the occasional question or clarification on something you’ve jotted down in your research on Yijeong. Yoongi answers to the best of his knowledge, supplementing where he can, but it’s clear you’ve done your due diligence. You’re ready.

Yoongi’s car comes to a crawl, and you peer out the window at the outrageous mansion he’s brought you to. You’d barely been paying attention when he’d stopped at the gate to give his name for entry, but now that you’re here, you’re struck by the luxury that awaits you on the other side of the passenger door.

A huge, freshly manicured lawn. Equally manicured shrubbery. A neon-lit fountain in the middle of the driveway, right in front of the imposing entryway to the biggest house you’ve ever seen in person. Modern, sleek architecture composing the monolith before you.

Yoongi hops out of the car to walk around to the passenger side and open the door for you. He helps you out, steadying you as your heels connect with the gravel beneath you.

The house is clearly bustling with people, music seeping out into the night as partygoers filter in and out, as others gather on the balconies (plural!) for cigarettes.

“Whose party is this?” you ask, amazed as Yoongi hands his keys off to the valet—a valet, at somebody’s home. 

“Bang Si-Hyuk,” Yoongi says as he watches his car depart without him, clearly not sharing your amazement. Right, you remind yourself. He’s used to this kind of thing. You, however, feel horribly out of your element, even in your Parisian dress.

He offers you his arm and you take it, staring down at your feet as you walk through the gravel so as not to twist your ankle. You can do this. Networking opportunities galore.

The doors to Bang Si-Hyuk’s mansion are opened for the both of you by the two men flanking it, revealing the party unfolding inside. You gawk, clutching your bag and the notebook inside of it, as Yoongi takes your free hand. He gives it a small squeeze before guiding you past the foyer, past clusters of celebrities and executives, caterers balancing trays of tiny hors d'oeuvres, all the way to the bar.

When prompted, Yoongi, predictably, orders an old fashioned. You opt for a vodka martini, something to quell the nerves mounting inside of you. You’ve come a long way from plastic cups of cheap beer at a Western bar, it seems.

The bartender procures your drinks, sliding them over to the both of you on cocktail napkins, and Yoongi clinks his glass against yours.

“You look like you’re going to shit yourself,” he says, grinning into his glass and taking a swig.

“I hate you,” you mumble in kind, letting the vodka warm your throat as you take a sip of your own. “Remind me again why you live in our apartment complex?”

“Because I’m not Bang Si-Hyuk,” he says simply, setting his drink down as a woman with long, sleek hair in a slinky dress approaches the both of you, though her eyes are focused on Yoongi.

She’s gorgeous. You recognize her, but your memory fails you as you come up short on her name.

“Min Yoongi, as I live and breathe,” she says with a dazzling grin as Yoongi extends his arm out to clasp her hand. She takes hold of his easily and doesn’t let go as she continues speaking in a familiar tone. Hm. “What a surprise.”

“Noona,” Yoongi says, mouth quirking up at the corners as he turns his head to you, his hand still clasped in hers. “Y/N, this is Shin Suran.”

Suran like the singer, your brain helpfully pieces together. You’ve heard her songs on the radio before, read about her in Look Here long before you started. She had a single years back that charted like crazy, a single that you personally own. She’s done a song with Dean before. And she seems to know Yoongi very well, based on the way she’s still touching him. Something stirs in your gut.

Suran’s attention finally turns towards you, her hand leaving Yoongi’s at last as she reaches out to shake yours. You set your glass down on the bar behind you, wipe the condensation off on your dress as discreetly as you can.

“Y/N,” she says, tilting her head at you as you take her offered hand and shake. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well. I loved ‘Wine,’” you respond, politely extricating your hand to pick up your glass and take another sip of your drink. It’s true, you did love ‘Wine’ when it came out, and despite your distaste for this interaction in general, Suran is supremely talented, there’s no denying it. Not to mention a potential connection for you, thanks to Yoongi.

Suran laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “I appreciate that,” she says warmly before glancing at Yoongi. “Although, that song wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for Yoongi-yah.”

…Huh?

It clicks then, your brain coming online in an instant. 

Yoongi, your Yoongi—the one who lives down the hall from you, who sends you cat videos while you’re at work, who calls you baby when he fucks you—is Suga. 2017 Hot Trend Award winner Suga. Over one hundred KOMCA credits to his name Suga. That he’s not just your Yoongi, but very likely one of the most famous people in this room. That he might’ve been Suran’s Yoongi, too, at one point.

You’d known that he was famous, sure. You’d been to his studio, seen the awards on the wall, although you’d been to preoccupied with wanting to fuck him to actually read them. His studio setup alone told you that he had money, not to mention the paid driver he sent you, the small flashes of luxury in his otherwise humble apartment. But this…

You realize, to add insult to injury, that the song filtering through the speakers right now is his. 

“Noona,” Yoongi says, his eyes locked on you as he speaks, although you sure as hell aren’t his noona. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

You barely catch their goodbyes, picking up your martini to stare into as Suran departs.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says softly.

“You didn’t tell me you were Suga.” 

The name feels weighty on your tongue. You don’t know why it bothers you so much, that you didn’t know. That he didn’t tell you outright. But it does.

Yoongi shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly, his body stiff next to yours.

“You didn’t ask,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I was hiding it from you.”

“Seems like the kind of thing to lead with,” you mumble back, taking a long swig, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Yeah, I don’t make a habit of doing that,” he says. You lift your head to look at him at the bitter tone in his voice, trying to decipher the look on his face, but you’re at a loss. You’re beginning to realize just how little you know about your neighbor. Your friend. Your… Well, he’s more than that now, isn’t he? 

How many details about Yoongi have you let slip from your memory, while he seems to hold on to every little thing he learns about you?

He polishes off his drink and sets his glass down, pulling his phone from his back pocket to send off a text, not looking up from the screen as he speaks. “Ready to meet Yijeong?”

You sigh, suddenly right back where you were last night when you asked him about Yijeong in the first place, but you nod. “Yeah.”

At the responding buzz, Yoongi pockets his phone and wordlessly leads you through the party. You ignore the way your hand in his feels more like a necessary evil this time around.

★ ★ ★

Jang Yijeong is remarkably handsome, tall and lithe in his suit as he puffs on a cigarette. Meeting him isn’t nearly as nerve wracking as you’d thought, although you’re sure you have Yoongi to thank for that.

As soon as you step foot on the balcony, your brain shifts back into work mode with little effort. You watch as Yoongi and Yijeong greet each other with a hug, which you didn’t expect, and they immediately fall into a rapport that can only come from years of familiarity. Yoongi said he knew Yijeong, but he conveniently left out the fact that they’re, like, besties or something. They’re getting a little annoying, these omissions of Yoongi’s. 

Mercifully, Yoongi seems eager to get out of your way as soon as possible. According to Yijeong, he and Yoongi have been working closely for the past month, so he’s kind of sick of looking at his face anyway.

After a muttered, almost fond ‘go fuck yourself’ from Yoongi, he’s leaving you in Yijeong’s care, both of you sitting on the patio furniture kindly provided by Bang Si-Hyuk on the balcony.

“So,” your interviewee starts, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You must be pretty special, getting Yoongi-yah to make an appearance at one of these things.” He gestures at the fanfare through the balcony doors with his free hand.

“I’m not here to talk about me,” you say shyly, balancing your notepad on your knee as you set your phone to record and slide it onto the table between you, next to an ornate ashtray. “I’m here to talk about you.”

“Very nice,” Yijeong hums, amused. “I’m serious, though. I’ve been going to these since I debuted. Album release parties, award ceremonies, anything I could get an invite to. But I haven’t seen Yoongi at one in years. He hates this shit.”

“When I made the switch to producing, I practically begged him to come out of hiding and be my plus-one. He’s been producing for way longer. He knows the people at these things, knows how to work them if he has to,” he continues. “Yoongi and I have been friends for a long time. He’s practically my brother. But I couldn’t get him to say yes.”

Nothing about that tracks. Yoongi and Yijeong, if your math is mathing correctly, have known each other for the better part of a decade. You’ve only known Yoongi for a month and a half. If he’s as much of a hermit as Yijeong insists, why would he do this for you if Yijeong couldn’t get him to budge?

You think about Suran and how surprised she seemed to see Yoongi. You think about the text you got this afternoon, how he didn’t give any indication that going to this party was outside of his comfort zone. Another omission, except this time you don’t feel annoyance, but something else entirely. Something you don’t dare name. You shift in your seat.

“I’m just saying,” he says warmly, ashing his cigarette in the tray between you, meeting your eyes. “You must be special.”

You don’t know what to say in response, and you know it shows. Yijeong laughs at whatever expression he finds on your face, warmth blooming in your cheeks as your eyes burn holes in the notepad on your knee. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, grinning and raising his hands up in surrender. “Do your worst. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, so I might be a little rusty. But for you, mystery girl, I’m an open book.”

Yijeong speaks to you like an old friend. He tells you about how he fell in love with singing in the fourth grade, when he sang ‘Azalea’ by Maya in front of the eommas and appas of his peers and got a taste of what it’s like to sing for an audience. He opens up to you about losing control of his own voice during his career as an idol, how he didn’t know what was wrong, was wracked with fear over it. 

He tells you about becoming friends with Yoongi, about being taken under his wing to learn a whole new skill and take a new direction with his career. How Yoongi opened a door for him that he didn’t even know existed. You learn that Yijeong has been collaborating with Yoongi for years now without drawing too much attention to it, but now that he can stand alone, he’s ready to step back into the limelight as EL CAPITXN.

You get so enraptured in the conversation, dutifully scribbling notes and asking follow-up questions, that you barely notice that over half an hour has passed by.

“Y/N,” Yijeong says, smiling at you as he wraps up his answer to your last question. You don’t know how to explain it, but it makes so much sense to you that this man is Yoongi’s friend. Maybe it’s the warmth in his voice. “You should probably go rescue Yoongi-yah from those leeches inside.”

“Yeah,” you agree, biting back a smile at the thought of Yoongi braving rookie idols and sleazy executives, trying to find a wall to hug while he waits. For you. He’s doing this for your career, for you. “It was lovely to meet you, Yijeong.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Yijeong insists, watching you knowingly as you pack up your notepad and pen, moving to stand. “Y/N-ah,” he calls, making you pause at the balcony door. “Treat him well, okay?”

Something that you’ve been ignoring for a long time unfurls in your chest.

“I will,” you promise softly.

You push the balcony door open, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you make your way back to the bar. You will rescue Yoongi, want nothing more than to be with him again, but you need the liquid courage now more than ever.

Here’s what you know: You have spent the last three years terrified of falling. Starving yourself from the full breadth of friendship, of intimacy, of love, because of what happened the last time you let yourself have it. You’ve convinced yourself that any man that claims interest in you would do the same in the long run, that being career-driven is a deterrent to love and nobody will ever accept you for who you are.

But you also know this: Yoongi sees you. He understands you. Unlike your ex, he doesn’t feel hurt when you disappear for days on end, lost in your work, because he’s very likely doing the same. And yet he still finds time to read everything that gets published under your name. He offers his studio as a safe haven for you to write when the words stop flowing in your own office. He goes to parties he’d normally rather die than attend just so you can get an interview, because it’s important to you.

You don’t want to starve anymore. Min Yoongi has been staring you in the face for the past month and a half, offering you everything you’ve been scared of since your ex left you three years ago, all alone in a strange city. Offering you all of his support and kindness and closeness like a filling meal. And for the first time in a very long time, you want to try and take a bite.

Terrifyingly, you really, really fucking like him. Not just as a friend.

You finish your martini quickly before weaving through the crowd to find Yoongi. And you do, leaning against the furthest wall. Drink in hand, just like the night you met.

When you approach, he lifts his head and your heart soars when your eyes meet.

“Ready to go?” he asks, none the wiser to your sudden change of heart. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, let’s go.”

★ ★ ★

You barely make it into your shared hallway before you’re on Yoongi, your body pressing against his and your arms looped around his neck as you pull him into a searing kiss. He tastes like whiskey, and normally you’d hate that, but it tastes all the more sweet because it’s on Yoongi’s lips.

It’s so different, now that you’re allowing yourself to really feel it. You fit together so perfectly. His lips feel so right on yours. How could you have been so blind before?

You expect Yoongi to press you against the wall, or slide his hands up the skirt of your dress, or groan your name into your mouth like he can’t get enough of you. You know you can’t get enough of him. In his suit, waiting to be unwrapped like a present.

You want Yoongi to do those things, desperately. You want to pay attention properly this time, you want not to shy away from the intimacy of it all. You want whispered praise in your ear, eye contact while he fucks you, his lips on yours and his stilted moan as he spills inside of you. You want the softness that comes after, for him to clean you up with care and wrap you in his arms. You want to sleep in his bed for a reason other than exhaustion. 

But instead, Yoongi pulls away, grasping your shoulders gently as he creates distance between you. You look up at him, confused.

“Rina’s probably waiting for you,” he says.

“I promise you, she’s not,” you snort. Rina knows better than to expect you home before morning at the earliest. You surge forward, leaning up to chase his lips again, but he remains out of reach.

“Y/N…” Conflicted. 

Right. Of course, duh! You’re getting ahead of yourself. 

You forgot, in the haze of your epiphany, that your last conversation with Yoongi didn’t exactly bode well for your sex bubble. You need to set the record straight, then.

“Yoongi, if this is about earlier… the Suga thing,” you start, leaning in to pepper kisses down his neck, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his tie, loosening it. “I’m not mad, okay?”

Yoongi shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “No, I just…” He trails off, sighing. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Y/N. The friends with benefits thing.”

You freeze.

Dread fills you instantly, replacing all of the warmth that had been inhabiting your body just moments before.

Why now? What’s changed? You know what’s changed for you, but it can’t be the same for him if he’s pulling away from you like this.

Yoongi gently removes your hand from his tie, takes a step back from you. Crushes all of your hope with his next words.

“I just don’t know if I can do this with you.”

With you. 

“Oh,” you breathe. You feel like you’re going to cry. The beginnings of tears are already welling up in your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you say, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I still want to be your friend, Y/N,” Yoongi says, his voice pained, like he can see right through you. You wish he’d stop. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you say, your own voice breaking just a little. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Fuck that. “I’m gonna go home. See you.”

Before he has a chance to say anything else, you’re speedwalking to your apartment, fishing your keys out hurriedly to unlock it and rush in. 

Once you’re inside, you lean back against the door, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor. It feels so similar to the night you met him—running away from him in the hallway, feeling like you can’t breathe once you’re on the other side of the door. Too bad it’s so, so different.

At the sound of the door, Rina comes out from your bedroom, Pepper in tow.

“Y/N? Is that you? I thought for sure you’d be getting dicked down right about n—” You watch her stop in her tracks at the sight of you, her expression laden with concern. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“There are strings,” you sniffle, looking up at your best friend with watery eyes. “And it’s my fault.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Rina breathes, setting Pepper down and immediately joining you on the floor, wrapping her arms around you.

Your mind flashes back to three years ago, in a position not all that different from this one. But that was for a relationship, one that lasted years. One that you foolishly assumed was heading for marriage. Why does this hurt just as much? Why did Yoongi nestle himself into the softest, most vulnerable parts of you just to rip himself away at the last second?

You finally allow yourself to cry.

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[roseghoul26]

Chapter 9: ...And Now I'm Covered In You

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: lots of dialogue because i can’t make them stfu :) also smut in the first half, in case you don’t want to read it Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay @nn-hh192 Chapter List

To say you were surprised when you woke up with your face buried in the chest of Arthur Morgan would be an understatement.

When you woke, the realization made you gasp, almost immediately regretting it when Arthur began to stir. Luckily your outburst had been quiet enough that he fell right back asleep, his arms pulling you closer. 

The events of the night, and morning, came back to you then. Flashes passed through your mind; the way his hands had felt, the way his lips had covered your body, the way he stretched you so deliciously. It was all a blur, ending sometime in the early morning. You knew because you heard the birds singing as you fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

The aches in your body made sense, then, and why you felt like you hadn’t slept a minute. Every muscle felt like it had been pushed to the maximum, and if you were able to move you were certain it would hurt. But you were stuck, unable to get out of the embrace Arthur held you in. Even his legs had you in a lock, tangled with yours underneath the sheets. You were stuck. 

You were just able to look up at him with weary eyes. Sunlight illuminated him, and you could see details about him that you hadn’t been able to before. His eyelashes were quite long, resting on his cheeks as he slept. You noticed some beauty marks that dotted his face, even lighter than the few that you knew of, and you swore you even saw some freckles. 

There were also some light scars that had faded over time. One stretched across his nose bridge, no doubt from the injury that made it crooked in the first place. Another nicked his eyebrow, barely messing with the hair there, and you’d have never seen it if you weren’t this close. In his beard, you were just able to see the scar tissue there. You’d always assumed that the small patch there just never grew hair, but you now knew that it was a scar. 

You then examined the features that you knew so well, the ones you’d come to love dearly. His soft hair, mused and ruffled from hours of your hands in it. The arch of his brow, the creases of his eyes, the slope of his crooked nose. His lips, so plush and soft, the ones that had been all over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you stretched, barely able to brush his lips with your own. 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d do that.”

Arthur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, your aforementioned weariness dissipating as adrenaline kicked in. “Arthur,” you gasped out, unable to hide a small smile. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Long enough to know you’ve been starin’ at me.” His voice was gravely with sleep, even more rougher than normal. It made you shiver. 

“How could I not?” You sighed, staring at him with obvious adoration. 

A dusting of pink colored his cheeks, smiling broadly at you. “How you can stand to even look at this mug is beyond me. And to enjoy lookin’ at it?” He shook his head, and you felt one of his arms unwrap from around you. You melted when he rested his now free hand on your cheek, fingers weaving into your hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

Before you could argue that he did indeed deserve you, he was pulling you in, kissing you properly. It was short, but it conveyed something that made your heart thud rapidly. His hand remained on your cheek even when he pulled away, thumb caressing the skin slowly. Now that you weren’t so startled, you felt tired once again, and the soft way he was holding you certainly wasn’t helping, and neither was the heat from his body. 

You must’ve yawned, because Arthur was chuckling gently with a fond look on his face. “Few more minutes?” He asked, and you nodded. He pressed a final kiss to the top of your head, making you relax even more, before returning his arm to where it had been a few moments prior. “A few more minutes, then.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a content slumber.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The two of you definitely slept in longer than a few minutes.

You weren’t sure how long exactly, but you knew a significant chunk of time had passed. 

It was hunger that woke you now. Your stomach grumbled and twisted, and you tried to ignore it, shuffling deeper into the mattress.

But it wasn’t the hunger pangs that made you jolt upright. It was the lack of Arthur’s body next to yours, no longer holding you. 

Setting a hand to where he had been, you were weirdly relieved when you found it to still be warm, and you heard the sound of running water from the ensuite bathroom. 

Now sitting upright, you were now regretting getting up so quickly, your muscles complaining. Rubbing at your neck, you were surprised to find that it was more tender than anticipated, but only in certain spots. In fact, as you rubbed at the weary muscles, you found more spots like that: along your breasts, in between your thighs, across your stomach. There weren’t a lot, but it was enough to be a tad bit alarming.

Pulling off the sheet that covered it, you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as you saw the various marks peppering your body. There weren’t even more than ten, not including the ones you now presumed to be on your neck. The sight made you reel, enjoying it far more than you thought you would. 

After a bit of pain, you managed to get out of bed, but standing was a whole different story. Your knees practically gave out when you took the first step, and you had to hold onto the bed to support. You were grateful that Arthur was currently in the bathroom, unable to see what he’d done to you.

It took longer than it should’ve, but you eventually made your way to the vanity and mirror tucked into the corner of the room. You never used this one, opting for the one in the bathroom or closet, but you highly doubt you’d be able to make it to the closet. And the other one was preoccupied, and you highly doubt that Arthur would mind if you barged in, but you still wanted to give him privacy.

You gasped again when you saw your reflection, but you’d be a liar if you said the sight wasn’t erotic. Your neck had seen the worst of it, darkened hickeys lining both sides, and you ran a tentative finger over them, which made you fight back a small hiss of pain. 

You heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, and when you turned your head you were met with the glorious sight that was a completely bare Arthur. He hadn’t caught your eye yet, running his hands through his hair, smoothing it out as best he could. When he realized the bed was empty, though, he looked around, and then his eyes finally fell to where you were standing. 

A series of emotions passed over his face as he regarded you; surprise, appreciation, then thinly veiled desire. You couldn’t look away as he began to saunter over, a playful smirk on his face, and you focused hard on keeping your gaze at an appropriate level. Arthur seemed to have no qualms with checking you out, his eyes flicking over every part of you, making you feel warm. 

“Good morning, Arthur.” Your voice didn’t like that you tried to talk louder than a whisper, and it sounded scratchy and airy. 

“Good afternoon, darlin’.” When he finally reached you, he stood behind you, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into him. His head rested on your shoulder, the stubble of his beard pressing into your skin. After making sure any hair was out of the way, you felt as he pressed a gentle kiss against your neck, and you felt yourself go completely lax in his arms.

He met your eyes in the mirror as he held you, rocking your body slightly. “Gorgeous,” you heard him murmur, and you tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “None of that, now,” he laughed lightly, drawing your attention back to him. “There you are.”

He was staring at you hungrily, shaking off any remnants of sleep in your body. He was insatiable, but you were loving it. You’d never felt this desired, this craved, and it made you feel good. 

Keeping one arm slung around your waist to keep you pressed close to him, you felt as he began to brush his fingers over the marks around your neck, much lighter than you had. Still, it elicited a small noise of complaint from you. “M’Sorry,” you heard him murmur, and you shook your head in response. 

“Does it seem like I’m complainin’?” You chuckled lightly, but there was still a hint of guilt on his features. “Just, no more. I don’t know how I’m coverin’ these, let alone more.”

“So you are complainin’.”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, much to the amusement of Arthur. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He just hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror. It was quite a nice sight, you wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, the evidence of the night's escapades littering your body. “Hell of a sight to walk out and see,” he murmured, taking on a raspy tone that you’d come to know quite well over the past day. 

“Not a bad sight yourself.” Your already unsteady legs grew weaker when you felt him begin to drag his fingers down. “Arthur…”

“Want me to stop?”

“You better not.”

A breathy laugh left Arthur. “Understood, darlin’.” As you asked, he continued, making you shiver and press into him. His chest was practically flush with your back, and you could feel it begin to rise more rapidly with barely contained excitement. When he grazed your breasts, the responding noise you made made him grin, and you could feel him half-hard against your back. 

You tried to reach behind and touch him, but he lightly redirected you. “Later. Lemme make you feel good.” You expected to feel him grope at your breasts, so you jumped a bit when you felt his touch continue below them, traveling down and down. It was like he had one goal on his mind.

He had to lean over slightly in order to reach comfortably between your legs. Your eyes fluttered close when you felt him there, but a gentle nudge had you opening them back up. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed. “I want you to see yourself fall apart.” His words, along with the just-woken-up gruff tone in his voice, made you shiver. 

You could do nothing but nod, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt him brush between your folds, fingers barely grazing your clit. But he didn’t tease you, his touch returning to that spot and focusing in on it. Your light gasps turned to moans as he worked you, muttering praises in your ear, his head still resting on your shoulder. 

Blue eyes were locked onto you in the mirror, mesmerized by the way your features contorted in pleasure, your mouth agape as noises left you. One of your hands rested on the one between your thighs, the other reaching up and around, tangling your fingers into his hair. He was practically holding you up at this point, your legs long since turned boneless. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmured, catching your gaze. The slow but persistent movement of his fingers had slowly started to build up the tension in you. 

“Arthur…” Your eyes threatened to close. 

“You gettin’ close, darlin’?”

You mumbled something in response, but it was enough for him. “Just let go,” his teeth nip at your ear. “Wach how beautiful you are when you cum.”

And you did. You watched the way a breathless sigh caught in your throat, your lips a perfect ‘o’ shape. You watched how your cheeks flushed, your eyes rolled back, the fingers in his hair turning deadly as a gentle orgasm washed over you. It left like a caress of a gentle wave over your body, not hitting you like it did last night, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory. 

He helped you ride through your high, and you pushed away his hand when it became too much. Your eyes were still locked onto both of your reflections, his glistening fingers retracting themselves. Blindly, you reached behind you, hearing him let out a choked noise when your hand wrapped around him, now fully erect against your back.

But you found the angle too awkward, and so twisting in his arms you finally faced him. Pressing kisses against his collarbones, you began to stroke him slowly, quickly picking up speed when you felt him press himself into your hand. His breathing was already labored, and you realized how worked up he had gotten from pleasuring you, being already this close. 

“Arthur,” you sighed against his neck, running your free hand up his chest. Your nails scrapped lightly, running through the hair on his chest. He groaned out your name in response, head resting against yours, his breathing hot and heavy. 

It only took a few more strokes before, with a shuddering breath, he came. His spend coated your stomach

“Let’s get washed up before we spend the whole day in here,” you chucked lightly, still catching your breath.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve got the stamina-”

“Who said anythin’ about sex, darlin’? I could be content just holidn’ you in my arms all day.”

For a moment, you seriously considered his argument, the bed looking quite inviting from where it sat behind Arthur. But before you could answer, your hungry stomach decided to answer for you, interrupting the silence. Embarrassed, you groaned, head resting on Arthur’s chest, and you felt it rumble as he laughed. “Guess that answers that, then.”

Tugging you to the bathroom, Arthur helped wash your skin, before letting you go to the closet to get dressed. But before you did, you snuck him a kiss, laughing when he chased after your lips. Donning a high-neck blouse, which rubbed uncomfortably against your neck, as well as a skirt, you felt the ache in your muscles as you dressed, making you wince and grin.

Finished, you headed downstairs as Arthur got washed up… again. There was a newfound energy in your step as you descended the stairs, your nerves still buzzing pleasantly. You chuckled when you saw Arthur’s hat discarded on the ground, and so after heading over and picking it up, you put it on one of the couches, easy for him to grab. 

Your grumbling stomach led you to the kitchen, where you got to work on making breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal and fruits. It was when you were making his bowl when you saw him enter, the bottom half of him covered in clothes. His button-up was on, sure, but was left completely open, giving you a perfect view as he approached. You tried not to look too disappointed when he buttoned it up halfway.

“What’s all this?” He asked, his hands returning to where they had been when he first held you in front of the mirror. 

“Breakfast, although I suppose it’s a bit late for that,” you laughed. “And you better watch those hands, Arthur.” His hands had begun to travel southward with a mischievous look.

Caught, he stopped his exploration, but he continued to hold you. His smile was infectious as you felt it press against your skin, and you bit back a laugh at the way his beard tickled you. No matter how many times you felt it, you’d never get used to it. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“It’s nothin’. I was hungry, and I figured it be rude to make you watch me eat.” He chuckled. “Bowl on the right’s yours.”

He hummed in thanks but was apprehensive about removing his hands, opting to hold you for a few moments longer. He eventually did, though, then made his way to the table with you following behind. Like the person he was, he pulled the chair out for you, leaning down and sneaking a kiss in while pushing the chair in. It made you chuckle, and your heart felt warm as you watched him sit next to you.

As the two of you began to eat in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but marvel at how right it all felt. Waking up in his arms, him joining you in the kitchen, even eating breakfast together. It all felt like it was meant to happen, meant to be. And when you glanced up from your bowl and saw Arthur’s eyes on you, you knew he felt the same.

But you’d never pictured Arthur as a domestic man. He was an outlaw, a person not tied down by anything, be it rules or people. What that meant for your future together, you weren’t quite sure, but for now, you were content to just ignore it. It had been a great day so far; you didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about the future. 

Sliding your arm toward him, you took one of his hands, and he squeezed gently in response. Even though he’d had his hands over your entire body last night, something that would normally make you want to crawl out of your skin if it was any other person, this touch felt somehow more intimate, more personal. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d been laughing lightly until he raised a brow at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’.” And it was true, there wasn’t actually anything funny with the situation. Well, it certainly was a bit funny, as you were currently in love with the man who had tried to break into your house all those weeks ago. You were just so damn happy that you couldn’t keep it contained any longer. “Nothin’ at all.”

“You’re a strange woman,” he mumbled in jest, the same words he had uttered to you in Rhodes when you first met properly. 

“And I’ll still take that as a compliment, Arthur.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Did you ever think this would happen?” You asked after a moment of silence. “Me, you, this?” You shook his hand lightly. “What’d you think was gonna happen when we first met?”

“Certainly not this. When I first met ya, in Rhodes,” he added when you began laughing again, “I thought you were gonna be another high-society person that I’d crossed, and I fully expected ya to send the law after me for what I did. But when that didn’t happen, well, I just had to talk to ya. You were, are, less… uptight than I thought you’d be. I’d never thought you’d been raised wealthy by the way you acted. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I guess we both surprised each other, then. Your appearance deceives you.”

“It’s supposed to,” Arthur sighed. “My life’d be much harder if it didn’t.”

“If only they knew how much of a softie you were,” you teased. 

“Soft?” He repeated, almost offended. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, you know.”

“I… I suppose not,” he relented. “Just don’t let the others back at camp know,” he added with a chuckle, but there was the slightest hint of alarm in his eyes. “They’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me. And your reputation.”

“Much appreciated, darlin’.”

“How is camp, by the way?” You were genuinely curious. “How is everyone?”

“I’m not gonna lie, things have been… tense lately. John’s son, Jack, was taken, but we got him back. Angelo Bronte, over in Saint Denis, had him.” You knew that name. Everyone in the area knew who Angelo Bronte was. You also knew that only the foolish tried to work with him. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Hans had dealings with him. 

“Bronte? You got him to listen to you?”

“Had to do a job for him, but yes. You know him?”

“Not personally, but I’ve been to his house plenty of times. If you got money or somethin’ to offer him, then you’ve been to his parties.”

“Dutch somehow managed to weasel us onto the guestlist for one happenin’ in a couple of days. Thinks we could get some good leads there.”

“Well, Dutch is right ‘bout that. Secrets are spilled there like it’s nothin’, even more so after drinks are had. Are you goin’?”

“Don’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Me neither. But, depending on when he gets back, I might just see you there.”

That seemed to cheer Arthur up over the prospect of having to rub elbows with high-society. “You’re goin’ to?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, it all depends. He usually likes to go, and it’s comin’ up around the time he usually comes back. But no promises.”

“Well, now I’m excited, maybe seein’ you in a party dress.” And you were excited at possibly seeing Arthur in a tux. 

“Gonna have to be a high-neck dress,” you grumbled, making Arthur laugh. “But other than that, things are… good? As good as they can be?”

“We had to relocate to an abandoned plantation house, Shady Belle. It’s a good spot, ‘cept for the gators. But we shouldn’t be bothered by law for a while.”

“I dunno if Javier told you, but I offered you all my house if you ever need a place to stay. Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh, he told us alright. Dutch debated sendin’ Jack and Abigail, his mom, over to ya to keep him from gettin’ taken again. But John wanted ‘em to stay in camp.”

“Is John his father?”

“As much as he tries to fight it, yes.” It seemed like a sore spot, so you didn’t press it.

“Well, if they ever change their minds, my door is usually open. And even if he’s home, I’m sure I could figure somethin’ out.”

“I’d hate to-”

“You don’t gotta decide anythin’ now. Just know the offers on the table.” Arthur looked away, biting back words. His brow was furrowed, and you could see the strain in his jaw. “Arthur?”

“You’re too kind.”

“It’s really not a bother-”

“No, you’re too kind.” His worried eyes locked onto yours. “This world is vicious, the life I live is vicious. It ruins people like you, good people. I’m… I’m afraid of you gettin’ caught up in all this. All the runnin’, the distrust, the bloodshed. I don’t wanna see it change you. I don’t wanna change you.”

“I know this world is viscous. I may not see it first-hand like you do, but I know. But isn’t that why I shouldn’t try to be kind, as naive as I might sound to say? And sure, it might come back to bite me, but isn’t it rewarding just to try?” You took a breath. “This world has already tried its hardest to change me, Arthur. It has tried to make me cold, to make me cruel, to make me uncaring. But I simply won’t let it, which I know is easier said than done. But every time I think it might just be easier to turn a cold shoulder, to ignore the problems of others, I remind myself that if I were in their shoes, I’d want someone to extend a hand out to me.”

Arthur was silent for a good while, mulling over your words. “I try to help when I can,” he began. “I really do try. But it seems like for every good deed I do, ten bad ones take its place. Every good thing I do pales in comparison to all the robbin’, the stealin’, the killin’. And it tears me up inside, the… the guilt.”

“Then why do you continue to do it?” You asked, no judgment in your voice. 

“‘Cause it’s the only thing I know how to do. It’s the only way I know to provide a life for those I care ‘bout. Acts of kindness don’t pay nearly as well as a robbery.”

“As much as I hate to agree, you’re not wrong. You’ve gotta do what you gotta to survive, and I don’t think anyone can fault you for that. And you shouldn’t feel too guilty; you steal from people who deserve it, right?”

“We’re gonna be stealin’ from you, darlin’. Are you sayin’ you deserve it?”

“Maybe not me, but Hans sure as hell does.”

“Damn right,” Arthur muttered, almost too low for you to catch. But there was still an inkling of guilt on his face.

“Besides, we’ve got so much money, so much that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like I said before, as long as he doesn’t stop helpin’ my family, you can get as much as you can from him.”

“Have you written to them? Your family?” Arthur asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from him. You’d let him, for now. 

“I sent them a letter yesterday. But I realize now that I’ve got no way of receivin’ their letters.”

“You send it in your name?” You nodded. “I’ll try to stop by, grab ‘em for ya.”

“Aren’t you wanted in Rhodes?” 

Arthur shrugged. “It’ll die down over the next week or so, which should be enough time.”

“You’re gonna do it no matter what I say, ain’t you.” The responding grin told you all that you needed to know. “Thank you, Arthur.”

He waved off your thanks, and the two of you continued your breakfast before it turned colder. You tried to stand and grab both of your bowls when you finished, but Arthur was having none of it. Ushering you back down, he took the bowls into the kitchen himself, even go so far as to wash them for you. Unsure of what to do with yourself now, you made your way to the living room, sitting on one of the couches as you waited for him to return. 

You spotted his hat out of the corner of your eye, and before you could stop yourself you picked it up, examining it in your hands. It hadn’t changed much since the first time you saw it or the time after that. Maybe there was a new scratch or nick here and there, but you didn’t see them. All you saw was a well-loved hat with more stories than you could imagine. 

You glanced up when you saw Arthur approaching, and you flashed him a grateful look. There was a regretful look on his face, and you knew exactly what was about to happen next. “You have to go, don’t you.”

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that, Arthur,” you shook your head, smiling lightly. “As much as I’d love for you to spend the rest of the day here, you’ve got responsibilities, and you’ve got people who need you. I get it.” You stood now, making your way over to him, his hat still in your hands. “Just come back, alright?”

“I’ll come back, darlin’.”

“You better mean it this time.”

“I promise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I will get Javier or someone to drag you back.”

Two hands gently grasped the sides of your face, drawing all your attention to him. “I swear,” he rested his head against yours, sighing deeply. 

You’re not sure who moved first, your lips colliding in a gentle kiss that sealed the promise he just uttered. You hoped that would be enough to push the thoughts from his brain that fed him the misconceptions that drove him away. 

“I’ll see you soon, either here or at the party,” you said when you broke apart. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he repeated, his hands dropping from your face. Before he could take a step back, you planted his hat on his head, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. With a fond look, he backed up to the entranceway, slipping on his boots with visible apprehension, not wanting this visit to end either. 

You followed him out the door, but before he descended the stairs he hesitated, looking back at you. Before you could even register he was in front of you, kissing you deeply. You let out a surprised noise, before melting into his embrace, your hands grasping his still partially unbuttoned shirt. 

But then he was leaving again, with an almost hurried gait, as if he feared if he lingered he’d never leave. You stood on the porch, slightly stunned as Arthur whistled for Bear, who came trotting out of the woods looking quite irritated at his owner. That irritation melted when he heard you call out his name, his ear flickering happily. Arthur had to stop him from coming over to you, an amused smile on his face when he turned to you. “I swear, he likes ya more than me.”

You chuckled as Arthur got atop Bear, and it took no encouragement to bring Bear closer to you. It took a little bit of stretching, but you managed to stroke his snout lightly, earning a nicker in response. After petting him for a few moments, you glanced up at his rider, a soft smile on his face. 

Words hung on the tip of your tongue, the ones you’d let slip so freely last night. Would it be too soon for you to say it again? Would it make him uncomfortable? Would it hurt you, saying them, knowing he couldn’t say it back?

Arthur watched you, almost expectantly, and you couldn’t help yourself from uttering the words. You just needed him to hear it again. 

You swore you saw something like relief on his face, only there for a fraction of a second. With slightly rose-tinged cheeks, he ducked his head, his hat covering his face from you.

“Now, get outta here Arthur,” you teased, breaking the tension. It seemed to do the trick, and you watched as Arthur began to back up. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye, for now,” he repeated with the same infliction. With one final glance, he was gone, the trees almost curling around him as he went up the trail leading to the main road. With a thumping heart, you made your way back inside, ungracefully flopping down on the couch, a sigh of disbelief leaving you.

That sigh turned into light chuckling, which turned into giddy laughter, the sore muscles in your body complaining as you laughed. Like before, you were just so happy that it threatened to overwhelm you, and you needed some way to let it out. It only took a few seconds until it died down, and you let yourself just relax, a new thought making a bittersweet smile appear. 

You’d missed what being truly happy felt like. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had taken some time, but you eventually peeled yourself off the couch. You had almost gone straight upstairs, but the newspaper on the kitchen table made you stop. You realized that Hans probably had no idea about Arthur’s involvement in Rhodes, and if the job with him was to go smoothly, then he needed to remain unaware.

Taking the paper upstairs, it rolled it up and tucked it into the lockbox, the thing barely fitting in there. Eventually, though, you were able to get it tucked back under the bed.

The room felt a lot more dead now that Arthur wasn’t around. The sheets were cold and lonesome, and as you laid down on the bed you could still smell him, all gunpowder and tobacco and leather. As sad as it made you, you also realized now that you probably needed to clean said bedsheets before Hans got home. 

Before letting yourself get lulled into a doze by the familiar smell, you got up, opening the two windows in the room to try and air it out. It took a bit of time, but you eventually gathered up all the sheets, pillowcases, and blankets on the bed, as well as the washcloths from the 

Your body hated the exertion, and it took an hour or two, but you eventually had everything on the clothesline. It did go by quickly, though, with your memories still flooded with the man that had occupied those sheets hours ago, a light smile on your face as you worked.  

Going into it, you knew that it was going to take over a day for everything to dry completely, but you were fine with that. That night, you grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, and you slept on the couch. It was uncomfortable and just irritated your sore muscles more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay in the bed, the other side barren. 

It was going to be hard to try and sleep without Arthur.

[pawnshopbleus]

Miller's Girl

Chapter Two - Professor Miller

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - Sorry for the late update. My mom took my computer away and I physically cannot write on my phone.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

Joel had been looking for a new babysitter ever since the last one had left. She was an older lady who had lost her husband in the Vietnam War. Joel respected her until she quit unexpectedly the Saturday evening before Joel had a big dinner with the president of the university. He had to beg Tommy and Maria to watch Sarah for the night.

You were the first person that caught his eye on the website. Your experience was subpar and your bio was brief but it contained just enough detail to get him interested. When he scrolled to see what else you did outside of babysitting, his smile fell from his face. You were a student and not just any student. You were a student at the university he taught at. He didn’t want to risk his employment for a simple babysitter so he kept scrolling. Each profile after yours looked plain and simple, something he didn’t like. No one seemed qualified enough to take care of his beloved Sarah except you.

His email to you was like your bio, brief but it contained just enough detail. He signed his name at the bottom and prayed that his position didn’t scare you away. He needed you to agree to this. You were perfect for the job. You were young and could connect with Sarah more than the last babysitter did. Judging from your bio, you were also smart. You seemed like a great role model for Sarah.

Your response came an hour later. Joel chewed on his bottom lip in anticipation of what the email would say. He let out a sigh of relief when you agreed to become Sarah’s babysitter.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

One word that you would use to describe yourself would be unlucky. You were sure that whoever worked high up in the sky had it out for you.

Your counselor called you into his office early Saturday morning to discuss your future after college. You told him that you hoped to become an interior designer once you graduate. He then asked why you didn’t major in interior design instead of architecture. You then told him that he should have asked you this when you were a freshman. You could tell that your counselor wanted to roll his eyes but he kept his composure. He clicked and scrolled away on his computer while you sat there in silence.

“You’re ten credits under the required amount to graduate,” your counselor said.

“What?” The scream you let out contrasted the monotone voice your counselor spoke in.

Your counselor let out a breath through his nose. “Look, you can either graduate next year or you can take another required class for your major.”

“But I thought that I completed all the required classes for my major? It’s the middle of the first semester and I’m pretty sure all the classes are full.”

“There’s one class open with two seats left. I can put you in that class and you’ll start on Monday. You’ll have to catch up on work but i’m pretty sure you’ll be fine.” Your counselor looks you up and down and continues, “You don’t seem like the type to get out much.”

Your left eye twitched at the comment. It was true, but he had no right to say that. You could report him to his superiors but that would be too much paperwork.

“Who teaches the class?” you asked. You hoped that at least the teacher was nice. Maybe they would be a little bit nicer than the asshole in charge of your future at this school.

“Professor Miller.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Mondays were never Joel’s favorite time of the week. Sarah had soccer on Mondays and Fridays which meant that he had to get up extra early to pack her bags. The last time she packed her own bag, she forgot her ball and her cleats. When the babysitter starts everything will be a lot easier for him.

A new student has just been added to his roster. Never in his twenty-five years of teaching has a student been added to his class in the middle of the semester. Just another paper to read and another packet of homework to grade. This is exactly what he needed! It’s not like he didn’t have a twelve-year-old daughter to raise all by himself.

The campus is stunningly beautiful in the mornings. The sun shines on the trees and grass, illuminating the green blades and leaves. The school spends a lot of money on its campus. They pride themselves on having one of the prettiest campuses in all of Texas.

Joel’s lecture room isn’t too far from where he parked. It’s nice outside. The October breeze sweeps his hair back and he has to smooth it down with his hands. The brown messenger bag slung around his shoulders dangles and hits against his outer thigh as he walks. Contrary to popular belief, Joel isn’t mean or rude. He’s just a simple man who prefers to have a little privacy once in a while. He is also tough on his students because he wants them to succeed. Professors who are “easy” get on his nerves. They crave the respect of their students rather than earning it. Joel has worked too damn long and hard to care about what his students think about him.

His lecture room is cold. Not the usual sixty degrees he likes to keep it at, but more like a chilly forty degrees. He can see his breath flow out in front of him like a ghost. He knows that his students hate being in a cold classroom, but none of them are brave enough to tell him what to do.

Students start pouring in and sitting in their usual seats. They can immediately tell the temperature difference. They hug their arms closer and rock their bodies, trying to preserve warmth.

The small hand of the clock hovers over the number nine and Joel walks over to the door getting ready to lock it. Just as his hand hovers over the knob, the door is thrown open and Joel stumbles back.

You enter the classroom, eyes wide. You look around at the vast array of students already sitting down in their seats. They all look at you with a look of horror. You don’t understand why they are looking at you like that until you turn around.

Professor Miller is standing at his full height, his arms are crossed, and he looks like he’s about to explode with anger. Then, he sees your face and realizes who you are. He must have recognized you from the website because his shoulders relax and he nods his head to the sea of students, prompting you to sit down.

The only seat open is in the back of the room. You walk through the sea of students all looking at you. Some look at you with a look of sympathy while others look at you with disgust.

You make yourself as small as possible when you reach your seat. Once you reach inside your bag, you realize that you have forgotten your laptop on your bed. No wonder your bag felt lighter today than it usually does.

You pull a pen and paper out of your bag and begin scribbling as much information as you can. Your usual neat handwriting looks more like chicken scratch as you try and copy down information thrown at you by Professor Miller. It would have been a lot easier if he talked a little slower.

Two hours have flown by and students practically skip out of the class, happy to escape the cold. Thanks to your seat being in the back, you were one of the last people to get to the door. Before you can exit, Professor Miller stands in front of you, his arms crossed once again.

“This was strike number one,” he said. You gulped and opened your mouth to explain yourself, but he put his hand up. Your mouth closed shut and you nodded your head.

The rest of the day, you walked with your head held low. It wasn’t until you got back to your apartment that you finally felt better. Being home meant that there wouldn’t be anyone there to judge you or give you dirty looks.

You flopped onto your bed. Bill went up in the air and fell back down onto the bed. Bill could sense your distress, so he curled up next you and the two of you fell asleep.

[kohiiflux]

I will stop posting about FoM only when they update the game or me getting a part time job smh. The good thing about FoM is that it is an early access game and I could not pick a character to fell for from youtube videos like Stardew for example.

I think I played SDV during its height at the pandemic and so I quickly chose Penny as my farmer's SO, and did not try and connect with the other characters. With FoM, I am obliged to try and woo as much because of the lack of content for now. Because I know if it is a finished product I might jump to Celine ASAP.

But enough of the chit-chat, and get on to the content, Adeline being the highest contender for Flori's affection. I think the turning point is me being turned off by her on her two heart event and then I realised something interesting.

FoM saves me from art-block, but may one day my energy for drawing returns. As of now, please be content with this fanfic, a separate heart event between my Farmer and Adeline.

Chapter 1: "Archetypes" Farmer Two-heart event (Adeline)

Adeline observes the general store's renovation, she can not believe it, Mistria are building, even grander and better than before. They are even on track to be a ruby-graded town really soon. Mesmerized by the speedy construction, she jolts down every details of the building procedure.

The summer heat is really intense today. Adeline attempts to keep a bold face but her body is failing her. Her hands melt to the to her sides.

"Hey. Boss-Lady!" A brash, confident voice boomed across the plain field.

"Flori? I thought you are working?" Adeline tries to cop her hands shading her eyes from the pesky sun.

"Me and Ryis decided to take an hour break because of the heat. I brought this for you. Here ! Your daily dose of reprieve from work." Flori hands a glass of iced coffee fresh from the inn to Adeline.

"Care to talk with me in the shades for a moment?"Flori ushers her to the shades, sensing that she will faint in a few minutes.

"Sure" Adeline nods and follows the stalwart farmer to a nearby shades.

Distant, everything felt distant.

The first time Flori arrived at Mistria, she was flirtatious. In any chance she has, she will almost certainly flirts with anyone that has a pulse - aside for March and Juniper who immediately shuts her advances that is. She even flirted with her at the first moment they met, and regularly gave her tulips every weekdays and coffee every Saturday - but not anymore.

Was it because of the board meeting?

Adeline has felt a riff between her and the new owner of the "Vinegrove Estate" building since she brought her in one of her regular work meetings. Was she put off by her ?

"Hey, Flori." Adeline nudges Flori who is lost in her own thoughts.

"Oh- yeah hm?" Flori jumps out of shock at the single nudge.

"You were the one who asked me to talk to you? Why the silence then?" Adeline slurps her iced coffee ever so loudly.

"Oh right uhm... I just wanted to talk to you about some new quest board mechanics that might make it easier for me to help the people. -- Oh ! Have you seen these new bruises ? it came from the mines..." Flori rocks back and forth, pinching the edges of her shirt to hide her nervousness.

"You know you could just tell me if there is something bothering you. Right?" Adeline read her like a book.

They might not be as close as her and Eiland, but Adeline has read a plethora of romance book to infer some deductions of the farmer. Although she is unsure at which archetype the farmer belongs to as of now, she hates the fact that one of the people she works with are hiding some things from her.

"How can you see that? There's nothing bad between us y'know. You don't have to worry about anything." Flori finishes her lemonade.

"Really ? I was a bit worried. I mean you are the town's philanderer... It's kind of worrisome that you didn't try to romance all the gentle men and ladies of the town - that includes me..." Adeline shrugs

"Not that I really enjoy your advances but … It's a bit weird for you to act so differently." She continues enjoying her iced coffee.

"Ah... About that..." Flori sighs.

"Do you remember about that work meeting you invited me to?" Flori tries to drink the melted ice from her drink.

Here it is, Adeline thought. Another person getting put off by her working habits. It is nothing new.

"You were...so sincere then, you know?" Flori fiddles her finger on her ponytail.

Adeline stops and looks back at Flori, the wind blows ever so softly between them and leaves fell slowly to the ground. Time always marches forward but it goes slower for the time being.

"Heh? Are you trying to flirt with me right now ?" "No I mean it !? You ruined me, Adeline." Flori chuckles.

Flori pinches her nose bridge and shakes her head.

"I can't possibly play around when you were so sincere at your work rebuilding Mistria. It's sorta inspiring actually." Flori shyly moves away from Adeline. At this point she looks like Dozy who was scolded by Juniper.

Come to think of it, There's an increase of shipments from the Vinegrove Estate by ten-folds in the past weeks. Adeline stares at Flori, every moment worrier than the last.

"Are you sick ? You shouldn't work in this condition ?! Where is Valen when you need her ?!" Adeline shakes Flori.

"I am serious ! geez- the point is, I will support you as a friend and will do better for Mistria as a farmer. You'll have my word."

Adeline let out a sigh of relief and smiles.

"Alright, at least I know you are sincere at your work now." Adeline pats Flori at the back.

"Let's hang outside of work more ? Who knows. I might join Dungeons and Dramas one of these days..... How's Dame Silverslash sounds?" Flori grins.

"Flori ! times up ! Let's head back to work !" Ryis calls everyone back to earth.

"Times up ! Come on Adeline !" Flori runs back to the construction site, leaving Adeline to dusts.

Adeline has read a lot of romantic books in her past time, she remembers all of the characters' motives, archetypes and more. But it is not that simple for a person. Adeline smiled and follows them back to the site.

-END-

Man I am sorta convince that I should pair them in the end but we'll see.

[formula-fun]

As someone who happened to read the first chapter of “if i had words” the day it was published and fell in love with the story and writing and waited anxiously for updates, am SO happy with the posibility of a potential sequel. My heart could explode! For me to find “if i had words” was a total sign - it made my days for over a year . Thank you so much! 🩷

awww thank you!!! it was truly such a long journey, sometimes i cant believe how long it took to get it all out. it definitely feels like there's still a little more left <333

a little snippet for you?

I. THE MORE THINGS CHANGE, THE MORE THEY STAY THE SAME.

For sixteen days, Max existed and Charles didn’t. 

It was an eventful sixteen days. A train in Japan broke the speed record, only for a rocket-powered car to travel at triple its speed a few days later; the second largest cash robbery in history took place in a town Max would never go to; the Netherlands lost the Women’s Tennis Cup to France, a rocket was sent to Saturn and a few Nobel Prizes were awarded. Michael won the Japanese Grand Prix for Ferrari; Max’s dad came in 13th. The world was moving the fastest it ever would, just like it had in the month prior and the month after; just like it did every single second of every single day. 

On the sixteenth of October Charles was born. Nothing else much happened that day. Max slept for eighteen hours and was aware of nothing. He slept in a bassinet by his mom’s bed; she was exhausted and slept when he did, and when he woke up crying she nursed him and told him a story about a race where she crashed her kart on top of a boy’s kart with the boy still inside it, and when she offered him a hand he shoved her, so she took off her helmet and beat him with it. Max fell asleep halfway through the story, and she drifted off not long after him. When Jos arrived from the airport that afternoon Sophie grumbled good-naturedly about having to share the bed again, and then she passed out for twelve hours straight. 

Max was awake every three. Max was hungry, and he was usually too warm. His parents swaddled him a little too much; they were worried he would get cold. They would learn from this with Victoria, but Max had to suffer their fussing. His dad was nervous around him, like he was afraid Max would break if he held him wrong. When Max cried he shushed him frantically so that he wouldn’t wake Sophie, then took him to the sunroom with its big wood-framed sofas that had cushions that look like the carpeting in a movie theater. He held Max’s bottle for him while he played the recording of Suzuka that the team had given him on VHS. 

A few countries away, Herve was frantically pulling cactus needles out of his hands so that he could hold his newborn. Charles was called Charlotte at that point, and was born small; he fit easily against his dad’s forearm, tiny and red. His hair was dark and fine; his eyes were blue and didn't focus on much of anything. 

“She’s so small,” Lorenzo said in wonder. He was sitting on the bed beside Pascale, tucked into her shoulder. Pascale was exhausted, her temples beaded with sweat, but she didn’t push him away and he didn’t seem to mind that her skin was all clammy. Herve settled the bundle that was their child back into her arms and Pascale tucked it close, skin to skin. 

Yes, Herve thought, Small. Too small. But their baby passed every test. Charles was born early like he was impatient about waiting any longer, and he came into the world screaming bloody murder. That was a good sign, the nurses said. He screamed so loudly Lorenzo winced and covered his ears all the way down the hall in the waiting room. In the delivery ward, the nurses beamed. What a healthy baby! Pascale let out a laugh that was bordering on maniacal.

In Brie, Jos was trying to show Max the television, where Michael’s car was flying past the timing tower. Max was a little cross-eyed. His eyes didn’t focus well either; he couldn’t see much with them yet. His hair was also dark and fine, and his eyes were also blue–newborn blue, fathomless indigo, not yet anything like his father’s. Jos looked at them sometimes and felt a strange detachment; a foreignness. His son had been alive for sixteen days, but Jos had only been present for nine of them. He wondered if that might explain it. He felt insane sometimes, looking at his son–looking at him in his arms, more thing than person, practically a different species with his curled fists and red skin and fathomless, unearthly eyes that focused on nothing in particular. He didn’t look like Jos; he didn’t really look like anyone. He didn’t look like a person at all. Jos wondered how long it would take for the feeling to fade, and for Max to look like his own flesh and blood.

Across Europe, Max’s soulmate smiled for the first time. The world turned faster and faster and faster.

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 4 - New Job

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 7.2k words - AO3 Link

Emma woke up from her sleep and stretched out slowly, her eyes still closed to the bright sunlight that was coming in the windows. She was surprised that she hadn’t woken up when the people around her had risen for the day, even for a heavy sleeper she never could ignore the hustle and bustle of the early morning. Maybe she was the first awake and that was why. Taking a deep breath through her nose, smelling the scent of Soap’s jacket, she rubbed her eyes before opening them to find herself staring out at a room that was definitely not the room she was sharing with others. She was the only person in there, and it was small.

Scrambling into a seated position Emma took in her surroundings and the evening before came flooding back in. She had been on the couch with Soap watching television and now she was in this room she had never seen before. Emma looked around taking in the small desk covered in papers, the reading lamp on it, the wooden portable closet that was standard issue with the door open and clothes hanging in it. Men’s clothes from what she could tell. Then the nightstand next to her that had a piece of paper that looked like it was ripped from a notebook sitting on top of a pile of clothes.

You fell asleep on the couch and I wasn’t going to leave you there. I tried to wake you a few times but you sleep like the dead. I managed to scrounge up some standard issue scrubs for you, hope they fit, Maricela said they should anyway. Don’t worry about rushing out, I’ll be gone for the day. But if you don’t want Gaz teasing you until the end of time, I suggest you slip out before we get back. Meet us for dinner in the mess hall? We should be back around six. -Soap PS You talk in your sleep PPS Don’t be embarrassed

Too late. Emma could already feel the burn rising up from her neck to her cheeks and ears. She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep on the couch. Then the fact she didn’t wake up and she was certain she probably cussed Soap out fully, her family used to tease her for how heavy she slept and how angry she would be if anyone tried to wake her. But the icing on the cake was the fact she was certain he had carried her to bed like a little toddler and tucked her in.

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered to herself as she flung back the blankets off of her. “I’m an idiot,” she groused to herself as she turned around and made the bed she had slept in. Even if it was the most comfortable sleep she had in months, this bed a true bed and not a cot, she couldn’t believe he had done that for her. He had given her his bed and just left, probably to sleep on the couch or not sleep at all and now he was out doing whatever it was he was doing on little to no sleep because of her.

She changed quickly into the scrubs Soap had found for her and debated writing a message back to him on the blank side of the paper. But she had no idea what to write, what wouldn’t sound pathetic or weird. In the end, she just folded up the paper and slipped it into her pocket before slipping out of the room and shutting the door. The area was quiet, all the bedroom doors shut and the common area was also empty and the television off. It was almost noon; she had slept the whole day away and she had so many things to take care of. First was finding Maricela and giving her back the clothes then checking in with her job to see if there were any updates.

Deciding first stop was to freshen up, Emma stopped where she should have slept last night and used the comb to brush out her hair as she sat on her cot. She kept glancing at Soap’s jacket as she did so, trying to recall anything else from the night before but nothing came. Next was the bathroom to fully freshen up. As she walked out of the community bathroom with her still damp toothbrush one of her coworkers caught her in the hall.

“We’ve been looking for you,” the older woman said, her hands folded across her chest in a disapproving manner.

“I, ah, well I went,” Emma stammered looking for a good answer. She didn’t want to tell this woman exactly where she was or what had happened.

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman supplied, “you’ve got messages in the communications hall and they seem pretty important since they sent a bunch of us to find you.”

“Right,” Emma replied feeling her heart start to hammer in her chest. What was so important that she needed to be found right away. That they sent people looking for her. “I’ll just…go there now,” she supplied.

“I suggest you do,” the woman answered and she turned watching Emma rush down the hall.

Doing her best to not assume the worst Emma sped walked to the communications area and when she was outside the door, she paused to catch her breath and run a hand through her hair. What was she going to do with her toothbrush? Looking for a trash can and finding none she just shoved it in her pocket before opening the door and walking in. There was someone working the main desk and she walked over and smiled, “I’m Emma. I heard I have some messages?”

The person working looked up at Emma instantly before grabbing a clipboard and handing it over to her. “You’re a very in demand woman today,” the man said as he fished around in a drawer and pulled out a lanyard with a clip on it. “John Price was here this morning stating you needed the badge. I’ve had Laswell call me twice now asking where you were,” he was muttering as he continued to work on the computer before looking back at her again. “I’ll need to take your picture if you could,” he gestured to the camera on the counter, similar to when you had your license picture taken at the DMV.

Emma nodded and finger-combed her hair as best as she could before he snapped the picture and went back to his computer. Looking over the clipboard it was standard issue paperwork, confirming information, signing off you wouldn’t give anyone else the badge, and all the other security stuff. She signed and initialed where it was needed before handing the clipboard back to him. “You said Price was here this morning?”

“Here you are,” he handed her the lanyard with her new ID badge on it, not answering her question and Emma didn’t know if he heard her or not. Then he finally responded after clicking a few more things on his keyboard. “Oh yes, he was here, then I had the head of the hospital asking about your progress as well, wanted to make sure you had all your clearance.”

Emma could feel her cheeks turning red again. All these people looking for her and she was nowhere to be found, sleeping like a cat in the sun on a bed instead of being up and useful. “Sorry I worried everyone,” she mumbled before the man handed her an envelope. The outside had her name scrawled on it in messy handwriting and she tore open the taped back to find slips of paper inside. Looked like it was all her messages. “I’ll just, get to answering all these,” she muttered but the man had already moved on to his next assignment.

There was a message from her job to call them back about an update on her contract. A message from some person called Laswell for her to call them as soon as she got the message. A message from her mother, who somehow had tracked down the base she was at and called, so typical of her. Then her job again, and another message from Laswell. This was going to go swimmingly.

Emma decided on her job first since that seemed most important, it was her and her family’s, livelihood after all. The phone only rang twice before it was picked up and the person on the other side seemed relieved but still angry that it took her so long to call them. It turned out that her contract was picked up, she was going to be staying on that base but there was a catch. She was also going to be an asset to another team but her employer couldn’t tell her exactly what it was. It was above their clearance. Emma felt her heart pounding again, that had to be the Laswell person that was trying to reach her. Her employer gave her the number to call and checking back on her messages it was the exact number Laswell had left her.

Hanging up with them she instantly dialed Laswell’s number. This time it took a few more rings before it was picked up. “About time,” the woman on the other end stated before Emma could even say hello. “I’ve called twice now. Third time I would have told Price never mind.” She didn’t sound too angry though since she finished with a small laugh.

“Ah, Price?” Emma asked confused as to why Price would be calling this woman about her of all people. She had barely spoken to the man. “I’m sorry can you tell me what this is about? My job said I have a contract to stay here but it comes with a catch and that catch was tied to you.”

“Right to the point,” Laswell responded before pausing and typing on a keyboard. “I’ve sent you a contract and some other paperwork. Look it over, take your time, and read everything.” She stopped talking again for a second, it sounded as if she covered the microphone of her phone to talk to someone else before coming back. “If you agree sign everything and send it back to me and we’ll get started. If not, well, we’ll have to figure something else out.” Then the phone line went dead.

Emma stared at the phone receiver in her hand before hanging it up herself. She still needed to call her mother but that could wait. She wanted to see what this paperwork was all about and what contract. Moving from the phones Emma found an open computer and logged into it using the credentials that she received when she got her badge. Emma assumed Laswell received her email from her job so she logged into that and found the email at the top of her mailbox. There were two emails from her mother right below them but she’d get to them later.

It took her almost two hours to read through everything, print it out, read it again, and sign all the dotted lines on the contract. Then she had to sign off on all the paperwork so she could get her security clearance to be part of the team that she just agreed to work with. She was still extremely confused as to why they chose her of all people. Surely there were others here that were better trained, had combat experience, and knew how to handle themselves in a fight without throwing up. Yet they picked her and she wasn’t going to say no, not to how much money was involved. She could do this contract and go home without any worries about her finances for her, or her family.

Taking it over to the front desk for them to sign off as witness Emma scanned the paperwork back in and stared at it for a few more minutes before sending it to Laswell. She wanted to send it back before she second guessed herself or backed out. Then she went to her mother’s email and skimmed it before replying she would call her tomorrow, she had too many things to do today which was true.

Another brief call with Laswell had her getting instructions on where to go on the base to get fingerprinted again and then for questioning. It was standard procedure, something Emma had already done to get her first contract job but now that she was getting higher security clearance, they needed to be more thorough. Laswell had warned her in the email that if she didn’t pass the contract was null but Emma had nothing to hide. She had never lied on her paperwork including why she had been discharged from the military after just only two years of service, so she wasn’t worried about that. An hour and a half later, her hand cramped from signing more documents, she was released from questioning and was to report to the hospital wing. She was starting there first thing in the morning and needed to get acquainted with her working area, as well as get her uniform.

She hadn’t eaten anything all day so she made a quick stop in the mess hall to see if she could find anything and settled on a rather bruised banana that was left in a bowl. She scarfed it down and headed to the hospital hoping that her tour and instructions wouldn’t take too long. Soap had indicated they would be back for six and she wanted to meet them for dinner. She had a ton of questions she wanted answered, first being why her.

Turns out her supervisor was the doctor that she had accosted to stitch up Soap’s arm. He didn’t seem too impressed with her attitude that day, she had basically told him where to go, what to do, and how to do it, but Emma didn’t apologize. She had a job that needed to get done and they were all moving too slow for her liking. The doctor took her back to the small office they all shared to fill out yet more paperwork and go over some basic regulations. Her true training would begin tomorrow, seven am sharp. He emphasized the time to Emma as if he doubted, she could be punctual given what had happened today.

Scooping up a few sets of scrubs and two lab coats, plus some closed-toe shoes, Emma glanced at a clock on the wall in the medical bay area to see it was five-thirty. Thirty minutes until Soap said they would be back at in his note which gave her a little time to compose herself and get some of her racing thoughts and questions in order. She hustled back to the shared sleeping area she had been given with the others and deposited her scrubs and lab coats onto the cot. She still had Maricela’s clothes to return back to her as well but that would have to wait a little longer. She needed more space for the things she was acquiring and wished she had her tote that she used to hold all her stuff and shove it under the bed. She’d deal with that later when she went to bed.

Heading back out the door, preferring to be early rather than late, Emma headed to the mess hall. Her stomach was growling profusely now at the lack of food and the fact she could smell it now was not helping. She ran a hand over her stomach to quiet it when she heard someone call out her name. Looking over her shoulder she spotted Alex walking up the hall toward her, he looked like he had been outside rolling around in the dirt all day. His clothes were marred and he had streaks on his face where the sweat had washed away some of the dust.

“What happened to you?” Emma asked stopping in her tracks to look at him so he could catch up.

“Work,” Alex said simply with a grin before reaching down to the scarf around his neck to wipe at his face and hair. It didn’t help much; the scarf was also filthy. “We just got back; we need to catch a shower before dinner then we’ll meet you. Didn’t want you to think we stood you up.” He said smiling a bit again, stepping off to the side as more people filtered by headed to dinner.

“Oh right, okay,” she replied, her eyes darting down the hall to see if she could see the rest of the team but it looked like Alex came on his own. “I’m starved, I haven’t eaten all day. I’m going to go ahead and eat while I wait on you all. Well, I’m assuming all of you?”

“That’s fine, shouldn’t take us long,” Alex replied, “well maybe Price. He likes to take long hot showers. Don’t tell him I told you.”

Emma laughed before Alex turned and headed back toward their area jogging a bit. She resumed her walk toward the mess hall and walked in to find the place in full swing again. It was loud and full of people already but she loaded up her plate and attempted to find a corner that was out of the way but could accommodate another six people. She felt a bit better today about the noise versus the night before, the exhaustion had played a huge part in her anxiety being off the charts. She still didn’t enjoy how loud it was but she could at least tolerate it now.

Eating her meal Emma watched the main door for any sign of the group, while nicely telling a few people that the seats were taken when they stopped to try and sit. She wished the group would hurry up, she didn’t like turning people away, especially when they looked back at her and saw the spots were still empty a few minutes later. She was almost done with her meal when the first of them walked through the door, Gaz followed by Crane. They looked different out of their field uniforms, which is all she had seen them in so far except for Soap in his pajamas.

She waited for them to look her way before she waved a hand, feeling a bit silly, but Gaz returned the wave before getting in line for food. At least they knew where to go now and she didn’t feel as ridiculous eating alone. The line took them a while and she had just finished her meal when Gaz and Crane took a seat on the bench opposite of her, setting their overfilled trays down with a clatter.

“Evening,” Gaz said with a grin before stuffing almost an entire roll into his mouth. “Heard you were miss popular on the base today,” he said around the roll once he managed to swallow half of it and moved on to crack open his water.

“I, ah, how do you know that?” Emma asked him raising an eyebrow, “I thought you were all gone today?” Her eyes darted up to the food line to see that the other four had shown up, Ghost still in his face mask and were presently being served their food. How Ghost was going to eat with that she wasn’t sure but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

“Oh, we were,” Crane replied as he stabbed at his plate, also smirking like a cat. “But Price was on comms most of the day and you were brought up. A lot. Something about not being able to find you. Then needing to know how far along you were in your clearance interview.” He stated before looking at her and chewing on his food as if waiting for an answer.

“Yes, well, I didn’t realize anyone had been looking for me,” Emma answered feeling her neck heat up a bit. “And I haven’t heard back about that just yet, I only finished it a few hours ago doesn’t that take a while to come back?”

“Not when Laswell wants answers, it doesn’t,” Gaz supplied as he adjusted his ball cap on his head so it was flipped backward. “I’m sure Price has already heard, he’s not exactly patient when he wants things done.”

As if summoning them out of the air, Price, Ghost, Soap, and Alex were there all moving to take their seats on the bench. All of them were in their casual clothes, though it seemed most of their casual clothes were still some sort of military fatigue and a t-shirt. Price took a seat directly opposite Emma next to Gaz, tossing a folder he had tucked under his arm onto the table before he sat. Alex took up a spot on one side of Emma, Soap on the other, and Ghost on Soap’s left.

They all smelled of shampoo and fresh laundry and she noted that their hair was all still damp which was probably why Gaz and Price had hats on. Emma looked at the envelope that sat in the middle of the table, it was thick and stamped across it in bold red letters ‘confidential’. She swallowed and waited for someone to say something but everyone was quietly eating and looking at her if they wanted her to lead this conversation. Though Gaz was still smirking to himself and Soap was glaring at him as if daring him to try and say something. The silence was growing heavy and Emma finally gave in.

“Can someone tell me what this is all about?” She finally stated, pushing her tray away from her and crossing her arms. “I woke up this morning to a bunch of messages, my job stating I needed to renew my contract by today, the earlier the better. A woman named Laswell sent me a contract and packet that took me two hours to get through, but she didn’t tell me a whole lot of what was happening either. I had to be reinterviewed and fingerprinted to receive top-secret clearance and now I’m apparently being talked about all over the base?”

“This morning?” Price asked her raising an eyebrow. “From what I understand you were nowhere to be found until after lunchtime,” he stated matter-of-factly before taking a bite of his own dinner.

“They would have found her if they just looked in MacTavish’s room,” Ghost ground out as he picked at his food with his fingers on his plate. Everyone looked up at Ghost then, including a red-faced Emma. “Didn’t realize I was the only person who knew. He needs retraining on his stealth if he thought that was sneaky,” he added before wiping his fingers on a napkin and looking at the rest of the group.

If Emma could have melted into the floor she would have, right then and there. Just disappeared to never be seen again. Her ears felt hot and she thought she could hear faint ringing in them. The rest of the group was smirking into their food, not daring to make eye contact with one another, let alone Soap.

“Listen it’s not what it,” Emma started but Soap interrupted her.

“She fell asleep on the couch and I wasn’t leaving her out there for you louses to find her and wake her up,” Soap answered, not looking the least bit embarrassed. “And why not my bed, wasn’t like I was using it anyway.” He shrugged before moving to eat his meal, but he gently knocked his knee into Emma’s under the table in a silent reassurance.

“Right, well now that’s out of the way,” Price stated as he pointed toward the file on the table with his fork. “Your clearance is in. I need you to go over this file this evening then your training starts tomorrow.”

“My training? You mean in the hospital?” Emma asked as she unfolded her arms reached for the packet and pulled it toward her. She felt items shift inside as if there were multiple files inside of it and some loose pieces of paper.

“Yes. You’ll start your day there then you’re with us,” he answered her. “It’s all in there. You can read it after dinner in your new barracks. It’s not for anyone else’s eyes but ours. When you are done reading it needs to be locked away in your gun safe in your room. No one is to know what is in that file or what you are up to.”

Emma could feel her heart racing again, the burn of embarrassment in her cheeks gone but still feeling hot from the anxiety. What had she gotten herself into? All these secrets and now extra training. She hadn’t held or shot a gun in years, after her injury discharged her from the Air Force, she gave all that up and focused solely on school.

“New barracks?” She inquired because that seemed like the only thing she could ask about at the moment since everything else seemed so secretive to the point she had to read this file alone.

“You’ve got a room down with us now. Your stuff’s already been moved in there,” Price explained before pointing at Alex and Soap, “anything’s missing it’s their fault. They collected it all.”

“I don’t have much besides my new work uniform so I doubt anything is missing,” Emma answered.

“We found your tote,” Alex chimed in and Emma turned to face him, her face obviously displaying her confusion. “We went back to the hospital today. There were a few,” he paused, “loose ends to tie up. While we were there Soap and I found the old living quarters and pulled out a few things that we could find and brought them back. A tote with your name on it was one of them and we found a few others.”

That explained why Alex had been so dirty and dusty, he must have been crawling around in fallen rubble all day. All of them probably had been and while she knew it hadn’t just been for her, she was a little overwhelmed at the gesture from them to try and find her things and bring them back to her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly looking from him then over to Soap who just nodded a welcome to her. She didn’t know what else to really say as she sat there waiting for them to finish eating. She wasn’t ready to get up just yet since while she knew where their area was, she didn’t know which room was hers. Luckily the group started talking amongst themselves, filling in the silence that had fallen until it was no longer there.

Ghost hadn’t touched any of his food and eventually, he was the first person to get up, taking a few items off his tray with him and leaving the mess hall. That answered that question, of how he ate. He must do it alone, hiding his face for whatever reason was more important to him than eating. No one in the group even acknowledged what had happened, so this was a normal occurrence then. Emma took note of it if she was going to be working with them, she had to get to know them and how they worked.

“Come on, you’ll need a uniform then I’ll show you your room,” Soap said as he wiped his face with his napkin and rose from his seat. The rest of the team was still talking but Emma could have sworn she saw Gaz give Alex a look when Soap made the offer to show her. She bit the inside of her cheek to tamper down another wave of embarrassment, and maybe annoyance, at the look. “I guessed at the size for your scrubs but those are a little more forgiving than military uniforms.” He grinned rising from his seat, ignoring Gaz who had choked on his water at the last comment.

“Another uniform?” Emma asked as she grabbed her tray and packet from the table and followed him toward the trash then out the door. “What do I need another uniform for?”

“For your training with us. Your scrubs aren’t going to hold up very well outside of the hospital setting,” Soap explained as he hipped open the door and allowed her to walk past. “It’s just standard issue stuff nothing fancy.” He gestured to his own pants and boots that he was wearing to indicate that is what hers would look like as well.

Emma’s eyes roved over him, taking in the pants and boots before moving up to his chest then finally his face. “Yes, well I doubt I will fill in my clothes as well as you do yours,” she responded. She was going to feel utterly foolish wearing military clothing when she wasn’t part of the military anymore, it was going to feel like she was an imposter. She wouldn’t even wear civilian clothing with fatigue print on them.

“I think you’ll fill them in just fine,” Soap said with a laugh and a wink which caused Emma to feel that creeping blush again. “It’s just protective wear for when you’re out in the field. No one is expecting you to be as brawny as us,” he joked.

“Out in the field?” Emma nearly squeaked but Soap put a finger to his lips to silence her, his eyes looking around the area to make sure they were alone. “What do you mean out in the field with you?” She asked again a little more quietly. “I’ve never seen combat. I was only a few years into my service when I was injured and discharged and that was years ago. The most action I saw were military games.”

“You need to read your packet, it’s all in there. Don’t worry about all that just yet. Remember what we talked about last night? About the fact you were unprepared before? We’re going to make sure you’re more prepared this time. And you aren’t going to be sent out there to fight on your own,” he grinned before coming to a stop outside of the laundry. “We’ll talk more about it later after you’ve read.”

Emma had been too engrossed in their conversation and all the questions in her head to even realize the path they had taken to get here. She would need to know where this was eventually and she made a note to try and find it again on her own.

The attendant had Emma walk back with her to get her measurements. Soap offered to wait for her outside, taking a spot on a bench and holding her packet for her. She made him swear he wouldn’t open it which only made him laugh since he probably already knew everything inside. But the last thing she needed was on day one confidential packet being compromised. He promised to be good and put the packet in his lap and that’s where Emma found him ten minutes later, his head resting on the wall behind him with his eyes closed.

She paused for a moment, he hadn’t seemed to realize she was there, and Emma looked at him. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes stood out in the dim lighting of the hallway. His hair was mussed, even in a mohawk she could tell he must have just towel-dried off before coming to dinner versus combing it out. He had his arms crossed over his chest loosely and she could see the bandage over the cut on his arm had been freshly changed so he was keeping up with that thankfully. But she also took in the fact of how massive his arms actually were as they rested across his broad chest. Her eyes flicked down his stomach to his waist then finally down his legs which were spread comfortably in front of him, her packet sitting neatly over his belt buckle and lap.

“You ready?” Soap asked her quietly with his eyes still closed, but a smile on his lips.

Emma jumped and cleared her throat, so he knew she was there and just sat there waiting for her to finish ogling him. Jerk. She should have known he would have picked up on her standing there, he probably heard her coming from a mile away in these damned flip-flops. “Ready,” she answered doing her best to not flush. She extended her hand out to take her packet from him and he handed it over before pushing up off the bench. She saw the smirk lingering on his lips before he straightened his face, he must have enjoyed the fact she had been staring at him, but he didn’t say anything else about it.

“Your room is at the end of the line,” he explained on their way there. “You’re next to Gaz. He snores so I suggest moving your bed away from the shared wall, they are thin. That’s what I had to do, I’m on the other side of him. Alex is next to me, then Crane, Ghost, and Price at the other end.”

“You snore too,” Alex stated as he came up the hallway behind them having left dinner himself. “But the worst is Price, that’s why he’s down at the other end and Ghost is next to him. He’s the only one that can take it,” he grinned as they made it to their little area common room. Ghost was sitting at the small table, his food eaten and mask on in its usual place. Ghost looked up at their arrival but didn’t say anything and instead went back to the book he had propped on the table.

“This way,” Soap said gesturing with his right arm toward the sleeping area. Emma followed as Alex broke off from them to go talk with Ghost. Emma could feel Ghost’s eyes on her as she walked but they turned around a wall and he was out of sight.

“There’s a small bath at the end of the hall, no shower but a sink and toilet so you don’t have to go all the way to the communal bathroom in the middle of the night,” he pointed to the door at the opposite end of the hall they were in before stopping at another door.

“Home sweet home,” Soap said as he opened the door. The room layout was exactly like his had been, down to the little desk and the propped open portable closet. There was a safe down by where shoes were stored, something she hadn’t noticed in Soap’s before but he had a bunch of stuff in his closet compared to her barren one. “Gaz’s bed is on the other wall so you should be good,” he grinned before pointing at the tote on her desk. “I grabbed everything I could find that looked like it could be yours. Most of it was already in the tote. And of course, everything that you had on that cot in the makeshift sleeping area.”

“Thank you,” Emma replied with a small smile, turning to look at him. “I really appreciate you all doing that. I’m sure that cost you extra time,” she replied, “and wasn’t exactly safe either.” Her eyes looked over at the tote that was sitting on the desk. It was dusty and dirty; one side had a giant crack in it and she could see where someone had slapped some tape on part of it to hold it together.

“It was Alex’s idea. Price said we had an hour so we made the most of it,” he shrugged. “We found some other stuff that belongs to your coworkers and brought it back too.” He followed her eyes to the tote before looking back at her when she spoke again.

“Did you find any,” Emma hesitated before plowing on, “any bodies?” She finished a bit numbly, moving to take a seat on her bed not sure how she would handle the answer. On one hand, she hoped that the bodies were still there to be recovered but on the other the thought of them lying there for that long was dismal.

“Ah,” Soap rubbed the back of his neck, “some, yes. That wasn’t our objective though but there was another crew there on retrieval. I don’t know if they found your friend, we walked the same path you all took that night. They had already cleaned out that area by the time we got there.” He was sparing the details of what he had seen. Such as the trails of blood where bodies had been dragged, all the flies that were still lingering, and some of the threats written on the walls in what he assumed was some of the victim’s blood.

Emma nodded and pushed back the tears in her eyes, “I need to reach out to his wife. I didn’t really know her so I have no idea what to say but I need to send my condolences.” She would tell her what happened, not all the gory details, how her husband had died helping someone else in need. It’s what Ronald did and while he shouldn’t have been dead at all it was a fitting way for him to go.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it nonetheless,” Soap said with a reassuring smile. A silence fell between them before he tacked on a bit more cheerfully, “you need to get to reading. That packet is pretty thick and if you’re going to be prepared for tomorrow you need to study up.” He grinned; he knew exactly what she was getting into when she read the damned packet. He almost seemed excited at the prospect of what she was going to find in there.

“Right,” Emma said as she pulled the envelope into her lap from where she had tossed it on the nightstand and moved to break the tape sealing it shut. “Am I allowed to discuss it with you after I read it?” She asked as Soap moved to exit the room.

“This time, yes, I know exactly what is in there and already have most of it memorized anyway,” he grinned, “but who knows you may surpass me with your clearance one day and not be allowed to talk to me about anything.” He was in the hallway now and his hand was on the door handle. “Read up and get some sleep. I’ll answer any questions you have tomorrow.” And with that, he shut the door leaving Emma alone in her new room.

“Goodnight then,” Emma said sarcastically to the now closed door, and on the other side she heard Soap laugh and return the sentiment.

Deciding to just get right to it and start reading, she peeled off the scrubs she had worn that day and opened her tote to pull out a t-shirt of hers. It certainly didn’t smell like fresh laundry but it wasn’t horrendous either. She would need to send all of her meager clothes to the laundry she suspected, especially since the side of the tote had been cracked open letting in dirt and dust. Pulling back the blanket on her bed she moved to hop in when she spotted something under her three pillows. She lifted one pillow up and smirked a bit, it was Soap’s jacket tucked neatly under everything. She knew Soap had to of put it there, as well as snagged her the extra pillow.

Leaving the jacket right where it was, she propped two pillows up settled into the bed, and pulled out all of the paperwork. As she suspected there were multiple files inside, each one with a person’s name written on the tab. They were all the 141 task force members she realized as she thumbed through and read through all the names. Then there was some loose paperwork as well. She flipped the loose paperwork around properly and stacked it neatly on her nightstand, she would get to those later. She was more curious about these files on the men she was now working with.

Starting with Alex first, she flipped open the file and began to look it over. There was his picture paperclipped on the left-hand side and on the right was paperwork. Some of the files still had redacted things in them but overall, it seemed it was a summary of his life. Where he went to school, his training, what military branch he served with, his ranking, missions he accomplished, his specialties, his psychology testing, where he worked after the military when he started with the task force, and things he accomplished with them. It delved further into personal things as well, some that seemed like the military would need to know and others filled in on post-it notes over the years from either Alex himself or his teammates. Such as his favorite flavor of coffee, something Emma suspected the military could care less about.

It took her a few hours to get through the stack. Ghost’s file had been the smallest with no pictures and it had the most redactions. She had saved Soap’s for last, not really sure why but she kept shifting it to the bottom of the pile as she finished each one. It was all an insightful read that she knew she’d need to refer back to multiple times before she remembered everything. She realized when she closed Soap’s file, her eyes lingering on his picture for a moment before she did so, that they probably all had a file on her as well. What would they find in there? Would they even find it interesting? She was sure it would seem so pathetically short and small compared to everything they had all done. She guessed she would have to fill in the more personal touches herself because there was no one else to add that to her file.

The clock on the wall showed it was almost eleven and she still hadn’t gone through the other stack of papers. Groaning she reached for those next and went through them. They were all about the work she would be doing with the 141, the training she would receive, how the group functioned together, what they needed from her, how she would fit in, and what she could expect from them in return. She mused over all of it for a few more minutes before getting up and putting all the paperwork in the safe in her closet. She used her badge to lock it, tugging on it to make sure it was secure before standing up.

She needed to get to sleep, her shift at the hospital started at seven sharp then she was meeting the 141 at one to begin her work with them. Digging around in her tote for the old-fashioned alarm clock her father gave her since electricity wasn’t reliable where she was at before, she pulled it out and cranked it. Setting the alarm for five thirty, to have enough time to shower and eat before work, Emma flipped off her light to the room and crawled into bed in the peaceful dark.

Emma’s hands slid under the pillows as she stretched out on her stomach and she curled her fingers into the fabric of Soap’s jacket. Distantly she could hear snoring, she assumed it was Gaz, but it was quiet enough to be ignored between the sound of the air system running and the soft ticking of her alarm clock. She adjusted a few times in the bed, but her hands never let go of the jacket before sleep found her.

[celtics534]

Little Moments That Pass Us By Chapter 4

Time for things to get a little spicy ;) I hope you all enjoy this weekend update. This chapter is set during their time at Hogwarts, and I think came out really well!

Read on: FF.net or AO3

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First Touch - May 1997

 Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even when she was only reading her potions book, Ginny Weasley was the most hypnotic sight. Though she was just flipping pages and cursing under her breath, Harry had never been so focused on anyone in his life. He still couldn’t get over the shock that they were together. He had no idea what she saw in him, but Harry was willing to go the rest of his life without treacle tart if it meant she stayed with him.

 It had only been three weeks. Three glorious weeks of long walks along the lake’s edge, hand-holding in the corridors, and secret snogging in broom closets. Being with Ginny was like taking a breath of fresh air. He hadn’t realized it before but there had been an eternal weight pressed against his chest. And it only went away when he was with Ginny. 

 Voldemort, war, tragedy… none of it seemed so crushing when Ginny was at his side. Reading The Prophet still put him on edge, but then Ginny would lay a hand on his knee and Harry was able to breathe. Never before had Harry experienced something like this. Where he just felt so… comfortable with someone. He’d always enjoyed talking with Ginny but there was something so much more to be with her like this. 

 Even now as they lay out in the warm sun, Harry felt more at ease than he could remember. Some might have just thought it was the sweet-smelling grass he sat on or the early summer air that made him so content. But Harry knew it was Ginny. 

 “And here I thought I was the one supposed to be studying.” Ginny’s playful smirk matched her tone. She had twisted, so she was looking at him. 

Harry quirked a brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

 Ginny rose up onto her knees and scooted closer to him. They were nose to nose as her arms wrapped around his neck. “You, Mr. Potter, were very intensely looking at something, and it was not a book.” Her lips glided across his skin, making goosebumps erupt all over his arms.

 “I don’t know —” Harry croaked out the words as Ginny’s ministrations caused his mind to turn to mush.

 “Now, now, don’t start lying to me, Potter,” Ginny’s words were low and husky as she ran her nose down his jaw. “I can see right through it.”

 Harry’s pitiful denial was swallowed by Ginny’s lips as she pressed her body against his. His hands fell to her waist as he tilted his head to get a better angle. Her approving nip at his lips sent a spark of pride through his body. In the first days of their relationship, Harry had no experience or idea of what he was doing. Ginny had been patient with him, letting him take the lead and build his confidence, finding ways to encourage him and show him what she wanted.

 He couldn’t get enough of her. The way she murmured his name against his lips or the way her hands found their way under his untucked shirt. That had been a surprise the first time she’d done it. Having her fingers slide up his bare back had felt fantastic. The way her short nails grazed along his skin and her fingers found tight knots to knead out had been hypnotic. 

 And she was doing it again now, letting her fingers trail up his back. Harry had done his own exploring but had been hesitant of pushing too far. He didn’t wanna do anything that would upset her. But when she was touching him like this, kissing him like this… Fuck. He wanted more, he wanted to… 

 “Touch me, Harry,” Ginny murmured the words against his lips. 

 Harry pulled back far enough to look into her face. Her lips were swollen from their snogging. “Touc —”

 Her hands came out from under his shirt, sending a wave of panic that he’d done something wrong until her fingers closed around the hem of her own shirt. With one quick motion, she lifted it up over her head, and Harry was struck dumb again. His eyes slowly took her in. Her taut stomach was pale and splattered with a constellation of freckles. The athletic curves of her waist tempted his hands. But that simple black bra she wore… 

 Harry hardly noticed Ginny taking his hand until she was lifting it towards her bare torso. “Touch me, Harry,” She repeated as she placed his hands on her waist. Then her hands were knotted in his hair, and her mouth was back on his. 

 She felt so soft against his rough hands. With slow, deliberate movements Harry let his fingers rise up until he was brushing against cotton. He could feel his hands trembling as he slid around her back. When he located the tiny clasp, he thought for certain it would never open. But he shocked them both when he undid it in one motion. 

 Ginny broke their kiss to look at him, one brow raised as she smirked. “Well, well, aren’t you full of surprises, Mr. Potter.”

 “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” Harry said, trying to play off his surprise. Ginny snorted out a laugh before kissing him again. With half his attention on her lips and the other half on the falling straps of her bra, Harry brought his hands up to her shoulders to help the process. 

 He’d slid them down to her biceps when Harry realized the issue. Their bodies were pressed so closely together that there was no way for her bra to fall off her. He groaned in frustration as he tried to work out how to get her bra off without separating from her. 

 Ginny pulled away from his lips, her intoxicating laughter perfectly loud in his ear. “Merlin, Harry.” She pressed a quick peck on his jaw before she pulled her body away from his. Then he held her bra in his hand. 

 “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” The words slipped out his mouth without thought or hesitation. That didn’t make them any less true. He always wondered if her freckles were everywhere, and so far, it was proving to be an accurate assumption. 

 A pink flush started spreading up her chest and to her neck. “Flattery gets you everywhere, Potter.”

 “Here is perfect,” Harry again spoke without thinking. He felt his cheeks heat, “I mean — what I meant was —”

 Ginny laughed as she stole a fast, hard kiss. “I know what you meant.” She kissed him again. “Are you gonna take off your shirt now? I won’t force you to take off your bra if you’re uncomfor —”

 Harry had already torn his shirt up over his head before Ginny was halfway through her cheeky comment. He cut her off with a deep kiss that she instantly responded too. She moved back against him. Harry couldn’t contain a groan as he felt her breasts press against his chest. If he’d thought it had been amazing when she’d had her bra on… 

 His hands on her waist started rising without his conscious thought. It wasn’t until Ginny let out a low moan that he realized he’d found her nipples. They were hard under his fingers. He grazed over the left one with his thumb. Ginny jerked against him, her hips rolling over his lap, making him groan in return. 

 “Harry.” 

 Fuck, the way she said his name… it went straight to his head and his groin. He wanted more; he wanted to lay her down and —

 The bell rang out loudly across the grounds. 

 Ginny pulled away from him, cursing. “I’ve got charms.”

 Harry was tempted to tell her to forget about charms. Forget about school. Just forget about everything. He sure had forgotten about everything except for her. But the little bit of blood that had remained in his brain helped remind him it was her O.W.Ls year, and she needed to go to class. 

 “You should — I guess —” Harry shook himself, trying to get his brain to function fully again. He reached to his left, grabbing her discarded bra. He handed it to her. “I’ll walk you up.”

 Ginny took the garment, the heat in her eyes torching him from the inside out. She slid the bra back on, closing it with adept fingers. Next, her shirt was on, and so was his. She made to get off his lap but hesitated for a moment. 

 Her lips came to his in a hard, mind-numbing kiss. “Just so you know, I’ve never done that before, but I wanna do it again… with you.” 

 Harry felt his cheeks heat as a wide grin spread across his face. He kissed her, wishing he knew the words to say how incredible she was. Rather than floundering and saying something wrong, he kept it simple. “Yeah? Me too. Only with you.”

 Ginny’s smile was brighter than any summer sun. She pressed one final kiss to his lips before getting to her feet. She offered him a hand. “Come on, Potter. You promised to walk me up.” 

[bereft-of-frogs]

friday roundup + a list

I follow a few people who do monthly reading/etc updates and I have always enjoyed reading them and been slightly jealous that I couldn't seem to stick too it, it always felt too overwhelming for the end of the month and I'd put it off, but! idea! combine with my little friday list posts which I'd also stopped doing because I was afraid they were boring so...combo might be interesting enough for me to keep doing them!

reading:

Cabin at the End of the World - Paul Tremblay: I liked this one, especially how, similar to The Pallbearer's Club, you end the novel not really knowing what was real or not and the point is it doesn't matter what was real, only how the characters understood reality.

Bloom - Delilah S Dawson: For book club. It definitely had it's issues (it didn't start off super well), but it was short and captured that fun Hannibal-like energy, where the foreshadowing is super obvious and you're just like noooo nooooooooo girl don't eat it! (I was gratified to get to the acknowledgments and find it was indeed inspired by Hannibal.)

(in progress) Lord of the Rings: Keeping on track with the one-chapter-a-day read through for Lent! We just finished The Two Towers today, onto Return of the King tomorrow.

(in progress) (phone book) Light of the Jedi - Charles Soule: So I'm trying to keep one book going on my phone (a 'phone book' lol) to prevent doomscrolling, and right now I'm rereading the High Republic series and continuing on. I fell behind after Phase 1 ended, but I'd really like to catch back up. Light isn't my favorite of this series and it's not my least favorite -- tbh I stopped reading after Phase 1 because I hated Midnight Horizon that much, I'll be skipping that one on this reread -- I read a review when it first came out that said it felt like the whole novel was inciting incident and I think that's exactly it, it has to do a little bit too much to establish the setting and characters, and never really feels like it gets going. Besides, I tend to like things a little crunchier, so some of the optimism of the start gets kind of grating for me personally. Much prefer the followups and the aftermath, but this isn't bad and it's certainly better than doomscrolling!

(in progress) Notes on an Execution - Danya Kukafka : This is so good. It's so good. I waited a while for the library hold and it was 100% worth the wait, it has that literary fiction style that I really love in my genre fiction on occasion.

watching (tv):

The Bequeathed (Netflix): Didn't live up to my expectations, but that might be on me because I read a review that erroneously called it a 'creature feature' and I was like 'damn, there's going to be a creature, that's crazy, when's the creature showing up??' There was no creature. And the solve to the mystery wasn't that interesting either. Meh.

(in progress) Silo (AppleTV): This show is surprisingly good, as I posted early this week. Like. I heard about it from a true crime podcast ad read, and just kind of watched it because I have a free AppleTV trial and a crush on Rebecca Ferguson. It wasn't meant to actually be good, but...it is??? It's really engaging, and I think shows how much good acting and direction can elevate a script. The ending of the last episode I watched was objectively kind of silly, but it was so well done you felt like it was super serious. Damn though, this is totally going to be the thing that gets me to keep paying for AppleTV because there's going to be another season. Damn. This is how they get you.

watching (film):

Dune Part 1 (2021): I made everyone watch Dune Part 1 in preparation and also it was my birthday and they could not say no. I think my mom made it....15 minutes? but my dad and I had a great time

Dune Part 2 (2024): I was so on top of the IMAX tickets for this, I refreshed that page a hundred times last monday to get the perfect seats in the mid-center and then I did not BUDGE for all 3ish hours of this movie. It was. So good. There was one shot that legit made me feel like I was on a roller coaster. I think I'm going to go see it again next tuesday. It was so good.

video game update: Still stuck on Dead Space. Still stuck on Cult of the Lamb. I'm figuring out how to balance side quests and the main storyline with KOTOR, which is progress, and on my perpetual Fallen Order playthrough I just did the sad Venator side quest and then got to Dathomir for what would have been the first time if I was not always so set on immediately getting the double-bladed lightsaber upgrade.

craft update: I'm two short rows away from being done with the short row section on my sweater vest. Infinity scarf has been derailed because I tangled a skein of yarn so badly it's probably going to take hours to fix it and I need that color to keep going. So. Tabled.

weekend list:

work (boo) - but work has been pretty slow and fridays are my wfh day so the below items will probably partially get done while I'm on the clock

laundry (also boo) / tidy

it's going to rain all day so the secret goal of friday is really just not to leave my house

work on current long wip which, yes, I did end up restarting -- or rather just starting the second draft earlier than I expected. I was going to push through and have a full rough draft before I started the second but it was really rough and I think now that I have 1) the most self-indulgent scenes, 2) all of the 'plot exposition' scenes written it was time to start going in order and straightening out inconsistencies and repetition.

I finally got an HDMI splitter so I can use the PS4 and get un-stuck on Cult of the Lamb (I haven't checked on my cult in so long!!), I just need to reorganize the wires

maybe untangle yarn. maybe. but I think that's going to wait for sunday at the earliest. I need some cooling off time, but once I can look at it without rage, I think it's just a matter of putting on a movie and being patient

go for a run

I hope this is....mildly interesting at least, if not feel free to block the lists tag XD have a good weekend! <3

[civilight-eterna]

Fanfic Writing Questions

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Looks like 17, incidentally my lucky number!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

204,980 so far!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, Arknights. If Ex Astris gets any more content though I'll probably lunge for it again. I'm also always open to writing Vocaloid stuff even though I'm a little embarrassed looking back at some of my earlier works. I don't write for RWBY or Danganronpa anymore. I've been kinda hurt by people in those fandoms and I'm baby (or was baby) so it kinda killed my heart for it.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. From Hell to the Moon - 953 kudos My gigantic Touko/Komaru fic from back when Ultra Despair Girls had me in an absolute chokehold. I still love them but I kinda fell off from updating because I got a lot of comments like 'ughh i'm so sad this will never get updated' and the pressure got to me. 2. Between the Li[n]es - 425 kudos Another one I left on a massive cliffhanger for Danganronpa V3, my Miu/Kokichi/K1-B0 fic. I appreciate the support it received so much. I do enjoy writing robot sex. I fell off of updating because I made a friend in the fandom that kinned Kokichi pretty hard and seemed to feel like he was a much 'softer boi' than the way I wrote him and implied that my Kokichi was OOC and even though I didn't really believe it...well, you become your actions, so, by kind of, tolerating their interpretation it kind of neutered my own. We haven't talked in years. Sometimes I think about writing a quickie update chapter but I'm too into my other writing. As one comment put it: "came to nut, stayed for the feels", so I felt pretty damn good about the naughty scenes in this one. One of the more vulgar things I've published.

3. Other Side - 288 kudos My first fic for the RWBY fandom! I wrote it right after the Weiss trailer came out and we knew nothing, so a lot of the story is nothing like how the characters act now. I look back on it pretty fondly because it got me out of a pretty bad writing rut, but it's kinda bittersweet because I've moved on from RWBY. Still a sucker for Ruby/Weiss and I was overjoyed when Ice Queendom came out and gave them some spotlight. 4. Amor fati - 188 kudos My beloved golden child chenmiya fic. It makes me so happy to see this one climbing high into the list even though it's the most recent. A lot of tender love and care went into writing this and reading this is the key to my heart. Nothing excites me more than comments on this or any of my other chenmiya fics. It's basically my love letter to the ship. 5. Secondhand Smoke - 177 kudos One of my early entries into the ~problematic yuri~ genre from when Cinder/Ruby from RWBY had me by the throat. I got a lot of much-appreciated appreciation for writing these two and I remember this being the year that a bunch of my artist friends drew me Cinder/Ruby for my birthday! I'd never had anything like that happen before and I felt so loved.

5. Do you respond to comments? Sometimes! If you leave a lengthy comment I try to at least pop in and cry about how much it means to me haha.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Sour Grapes, easily. But is anyone surprised?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Definitely dodecatheon meadia. If ever I've written something I can consider to have a true fairytale ending, this is the one. This one really healed my heart too! I felt like I had a real fire under me while writing it and these girls have deeply affected me. I don't want to say too too much about it since some people are very likely still finishing the game. But it's also a new feeling to be the first fic in a tag!

8. Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully not really.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah, I sure do, almost exclusively-but I tend to have myself in this hostage situation of, "please make a 50k-100k epic to perfectly justify the characters having sex" that I occasionally escape containment from. I've gotten a little better at just laying the foundations quickly and getting to what I like to write, but it can still be a struggle because I get a little perfectionist with it. Which is funny because to me the 'perfect' smut doesn't exist, and it's made 'perfect' through the imperfections. I think the little bumps and hiccups and misunderstandings along the way are a lot more compelling to me than having everything go without a hitch, but there's definitely exceptions and different circumstances! Like when that's a big part of the story-like a character really really in control for another character's safety. When I write robot sex or medfet there tends to be a bit more detail about the safety side of things because I like to take the reader through the experience of safety too. I never turn right to the camera and go 'and now the safe way to do it is x' but I rely on the characters to express their expertise to each other, and their reassurance, and for the trust of the other character to speak for itself. haha, i rambled.

this is why for the lin/chen/amiya bondage i'm working on writing that i have a notebook with several pages of questions that lin goes through before tying people up. things like 'if you start to cry, does that mean you need to stop, or is that just what you need?'

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really, the only one I've kind of written was the Ex Astris/Arknights one in dodecatheon meadia, based lightly off the fact that the games did a collab and I wanted to acknowledge them with the outfits of those girls from another world that they didn't quite get to know.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh, just once. But it was SO long ago and the person was pretty young I think and they were ashamed and took it down right away, so live and let live.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Some kind folks translated Sour Grapes into Chinese! I asked them for a link to where it ended up but I don't think they totally understood what I was asking. I was flattered nonetheless.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I haven't. I do a lot of rping though still, though less publicly than I used to. I think if I co-wrote anything and published it it would have to be with @lanymme because she's my most trusted peer! When we talk about writing things and whenever she gives me feedback, she is so kind and spirited about it in a way that pushes me to do my best. Her encouragement is truly so earnest and even though I can be a little protective of my writing she has a really nice way about her of discussing how to make it stronger without making me ever feel like I'm not 'enough' as an author. I can't overstate how much I value her companionship; as an editor and a good friend and just lovely person overall. And when she leaves huge comments on my fics spotting all the little painstaking details I put in and mentioning them-what better satisfaction can there be as a writer? I always intend to do the same back but I am always just so floored and wiped out by the quality of her writing that I atomize before I can form cohesive thoughts. It just makes it all the more impressive that she can put together a fucking. bibliography of the story's moments and her reactions. So lanymme I hope you know how much I adore your style. /)///(\

14. What's your all time favorite ship? Chenmiya. I sort of felt inklings of it all throughout the beginning of the story and then chapters 7 and 8 sealed my coffin shut. Amiya sort of represents, I think, the idealism that Ch'en had wanted to believe in growing up. The world was really cruel and Ch'en adapted in her own ways, but she...rejects Amiya a bit because I feel like in her heart she can't let herself get too attached. She knows-or thinks she knows-that Amiya will lose hope and she'll feel that heartbreak all over. But slowly, her optimism and continued efforts to just...keep going, in a world that is cold, a world that shows her cruelty-it reaches Ch'en. And even though Ch'en puts up her front at first, Amiya's ultra-high empathy helps her understand who Ch'en really is, and she has the maturity to not begrudge her for the way she's processed things up to the events of chapter 7 and 8. As she puts it, "I saw the color of her heart", when talking about how Ch'en interacted with the kids in the slums that didn't have anyone else. And then she launches a rescue for Ch'en, and ends up so linked up with her memories and emotions that she just like. Becomes the other half of her soul in that fight. Amiya arrives with her optimism and hopes on the sheer chance that Ch'en is still alive and still needs her help and goes up the tower alone to find her and she does even against all odds. She talks about how she wants to cry when she sees her. In Ch'en's hour of need, Amiya arrives carrying the hopes of what she wanted to be herself, and they fight a battle where they are alone, saving each other, promising each other that they can do it, and they come out alive.

There are so, so so many more details about them. Ch'en's wishes for Amiya to call her by first name in a closer way, the way that Amiya shyly, obstinately continues to add some form of honorific for her. The way Ch'en inherited her abusive father's rhetoric and echoed his lines to Amiya to try to get her to distance herself from her in the beginning, only to apologize at the top of the tower and tell her she wishes she'd met her earlier.

But the main thing I always think about, at the top of the tower, is where black-snake-controlled Talulah puts Amiya in a prison of fire specifically to goad Ch'en. She wraps her in flames and says "I wonder how her melting flesh will smell"/something akin to that and Ch'en loses her mind and yells as her to "don't touch her!" and says "I'm the one you want, let her go!" etc., you know, all the good shit. So my interpretation of the scene is this: since the black snake can't make Talulah do something she doesn't actually want to do, I've always felt that the feelings behind that scene were of Talulah wanting someone close to her to really, truly understand how it feels to lose someone you love, and she saw Amiya to Ch'en as being someone analogous to what Alina was to herself. I think even if you read Ch'en's feelings for Amiya as non-romantic, Amiya was still so so dearly important to her to make her react that way, and that the black snake being cruel enough to try to leverage their relationship to, ultimately, kill Ch'en, who was Talulah's last tether to not losing control of herself fully-was so outrageously heinous. Ch'en could have killed herself trying to get Amiya out, which would have been what the black snake wanted most of all, since it couldn't quite urge Talulah to kill Ch'en directly, and it would have done so by preying on both Talulah's love/sorrow for Alina and Ch'en's love for Amiya.

scrolling up and seeing the wall of text i wrote and. yeah. there's still so much more.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Between the Li[e]s. Danganronpa fandom just hurts too much.

16. What are your writing strengths? Aside from dialogue, I think my other big strength is that I'm not afraid to write what I want even if and especially if it's fucked up. I also feel like another strength of mine is that the characters will take over for me, and get me to write them truly as they are without letting me change them. Even if that results in me writing things I'm very embarrassed and shy about writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I lack discipline. I need to get myself consistently writing more, but it's hard for me to make time to do it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't tend to do more than a few phrases, and only then if it's a character's native language and I want them to call someone a cute nickname or something.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Princess Tutu. I was 13. it was the 4th of July. I was supposed to be in bed asleep. But I was using the string lights illumination to light up my journal and it was then for the very first time I felt the feeling of realizing that I could make anything happen that I wanted.

It was not very good at all! But I treasure the memories of having boundless energy to write with because I was just so excited to see something become real from something that had only till then been inside of me.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

dodecatheon meadia. maybe it's surprising because it's not one of my headliner chenmiya fics, but-it's a secret chenmiya fic if you squint!

and honestly even though the story of ex astris is a little patchy at times, by the end you feel just...gripped by the world building and by yan and vi in particular. so i remember writing for them, desperate to see the happiest ending i could make, weaving it in with the canon with as many of my favorite details as possible, and it felt so good. i wrote pretty much nonstop for a week straight and finished it. the feeling of just-DYING to write was burning under my skin after finishing the game and the satisfaction of finishing the fic was magical, even if it came with the usual...idk, 'fanfic post-partum' of sending your writing out into the world when it's all done.

tagging: @lanymme, @annierosaart, and anyone else who wants to do it!

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 5 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 5. Dreams

Mornings were not usually hard for Steve. He liked to be up early, go for a run, get the day going. However, his second day at home he had to force himself out of bed.

“You look half awake at best,” Robin said when he picked her up. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“Yep,” he replied, hoping he was telling the truth, “just crashed yesterday. Full on fell asleep on the couch.”

“Like after Starcourt?” Robin asked, belting herself in.

As he had expected, lots of the party were in need of supplies. Robin had her parents list, they were off to pick up Dustin next, and they were meeting some of the others at one of the big stores one town over. It had all been arranged via the walkie the previous evening before Steve had climbed into bed and slept for ten hours.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out of her driveway. “It always happens. Must be an adrenaline drop or something. Happened after everything in 83, happened after Billy and the demodogs, happened after Starcourt, and now it’s happening after Vecna 2. Usually takes a couple of days to get back to normal.”

“And I reiterate, are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Robin said.

“I’m fine,” he replied and did his best to look awake. “Things need doing, I’ll just crash again once I get home. Could do without the weird ass dreams though.”

“Nightmares?” was the much gentler enquiry from his platonic soulmate.

“Surprisingly no,” he admitted, “but weird. I saw Eddie.”

“Shit,” Robin said. “And how is that not a nightmare?”

“It wasn’t,” he assured her. “I think my subconscious is just trying to deal with losing him. I’ve never lost one of the group I was with before. I mean people have died, Bob died, we thought Hop died, but it wasn’t the same.”

“You didn’t see it,” Robin concluded.

He nodded.

“Didn’t have to coax Dustin away from their bodies either,” he agreed. “Really wish we could have brought him home.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “So, want to talk about your dream of Eddie?”

He gave it a few moments thought, but shook his head.

“No,” he confirmed out loud, “I think I just want to leave my brain to process. Might need to talk about it later though.”

“Just say the word,” Robin told him. “So how about we decide on a plan of attack for operation re-stock. You know it’s going to be chaos.”

Steve grinned, putting thoughts of Eddie to the back of his mind.

“I can only imagine,” he agreed.

~*~

After making sure everyone had everything they needed, Steve took Robin down to the school so they could volunteer for a while. The place had been abandoned during the evacuation, but it was up and running again now to help those who had come back. Robin was utterly delighted to find Vickie had returned as well.

Steve let her have a couple of hours before they headed out.

When he finally made it home, he finished putting away the groceries that weren’t perishable, he’d already done the rest earlier, grabbed something simple to eat, then went through the same routine as the day before, before collapsing on the couch. He was out before he had a chance to even take as sip of his tea.

When he blinked his eyes open on his dream version of the Void, he realised his subconscious had not finished screwing with him yet.

“You came back,” said a surprised, but very familiar voice.

He turned, much more slowly this time, to find Eddie sitting on what looked like an ordinary kitchen chair. He was just as dirty and ragged as the last time Steve had dreamed about him, but his eyes were alert, and his posture was much straighter.

“You look better,” Steve said.

“I’m feeling better,” Eddie replied. “Not great, but more alive. Whatever you did to me sure as hell worked.”

“How do you know it wasn’t just the feeding?” Steve asked, stepping closer.

“Because I don’t remember a whole lot about being Vecna’s lacky, but I remember feeding a couple of times,” Eddie replied. “It was not like that. You gave me more than blood.”

“I wanted to make you better,” Steve said with a shrug, “and in here I could do that, so I did.”

“You look tired,” was Eddie’s next observation.

“Been a long day,” he replied, “I’m fine.”

Eddie’s gaze flicked over him quickly, as if assessing what he was saying.

“How much do you remember after Vecna brought you back?” he asked before Eddie could dispute his statement.

Eddie frowned at that, eyes going dark for a moment.

“Flashes mostly,” came the eventual response. “Like my mind was mostly asleep, at least my rational thoughts anyway. It’s more feelings and the occasional real memory.”

“We didn’t see you in the final battle,” Steve revealed.

“No,” Eddie replied, “I was for after, for terrifying the town. The demon they failed to put down. I know that much, I remember him, well not telling me, but holding me back and it slipped through. I think he was afraid what might happen if I came face to face with any of you. Our campaign and Max’s strength really rattled him.”

“Wish we’d known that,” Steve said, moving closer still. “Might have made the final confrontation a little less terrifying.”

“Was it bad?” Eddie asked.

“We were prepared thanks to Max and El, but yeah, it was the scariest shit I have ever seen,” he revealed and began to tell Eddie all about it.

The words came easily, especially with Eddie slipping in bits of information he had gleaned from the other side. If felt like such a relief to have someone to talk to, even if it was all a figment of his subconscious. He knew the others were there if he needed to talk, but he didn’t want to burden them. Eddie genuinely seemed to want to know. Of course he did, that’s why Steve had conjured him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t real. It felt right.

Eventually, however, Steve began to notice Eddie was looking tired.

“You need to feed again, don’t you,” he said as their discussion waned.

“Honestly, Big Boy,” Eddie said, “I have no idea what I need. The only thing that seems real to me right now is you.”

“Your eyes have gone dark,” Steve said, stepping into Eddie’s personal space.

“They do that?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded.

“When you’re emotional or hungry I think,” he said. “They also glow red around the edges when you’re ready to feed.”

“Good to know,” Eddie said and almost carried off the off-hand tone.

Steve held his wrist out. He didn’t know what games his subconscious mind was playing. All he knew was it felt important to let them continue. Part of him needed this, so he went with it.

Eddie was less desperate this time. He looked at Steve for a long time, searching his face as if looking for something. However, eventually he reached out and took Steve’s wrist.

Steve reacted in exactly the same way to Eddie’s fangs sliding into his flesh. The pain was nothing and he gave Eddie everything he could. It was what he needed to do.

~*~

Steve woke up on his couch with the morning sun already streaming through the windows. He felt rested, much better than he had the previous morning, but incredibly hungry and his nose was bloody again. Making another mental note to talk to Will or El, because he’d completely forgotten the previous day, he went about putting yet another blanket in to soak to get out the blood stains.

Walking into the kitchen once that was done, he set about making himself some toast and eggs, an embarrassingly large helping if he was honest. Not that he was in the mood to argue with his stomach.

Eating made him feel much better. He headed upstairs to get ready for the day feeling accomplished. Possibly his dreams were good for him.

The phone was actually working when he picked it up, at least for local calls, so he called Robin to see if she wanted to go to the school again. She did, so that rather set up his day. He did try and get another call through to his parents, but the number failed, so he gave up.

He saw Eddie’s uncle at the school helping out, which brought his dreams right to the forefront of his mind. The man looked so sad at times, Steve wished he could help him. He felt guilty that his subconscious seemed to be giving him something Wayne clearly didn’t have, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do. Any sort of spiral was, however, averted when Robin distracted him with a PB&J sandwich. By the time he had subdued the monster in his stomach, Wayne had been gone.

When he finally made it home, he refused to fall asleep on the couch again. He made himself dinner, ate it standing in the kitchen, cleaned up and headed upstairs instead. This time he didn’t try and pretend he wasn’t going straight to sleep and went through his nightly routine. With a towel over his pillow, just in case, he let his eyes close, and he slipped into dreamland.

He was not surprised to open them onto his dream Void again.

“Hey, Eddie,” he said, turning to where he instinctively knew the other man would be.

“Hey yourself, Stevie,” Eddie replied.

Eddie was standing this time. He almost looked as he had that last time in the Upside Down, minus the bandana and with added holes in his clothes showing off silvery scars where Vecna had put him back together.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, walking over without hesitation.

“Nearly like me,” Eddie replied, “but still weird on the edges. I don’t know what happens when you’re not here, it’s all foggy.”

Steve’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t tell Eddie it was because he was just a dream, it felt too cruel. Which was ridiculous, but it was a dream, logic didn’t really apply.

“The Upside Down never makes any sense,” he said.

“What happens when I am me again, Stevie?” Eddie asked. “Will you come get me?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking around the lump in his throat, “I’ll come get you.”

He wished it was real. Wished he could reach out and bring Eddie home. Nothing else would make him happier. To be able to bring their fallen member back. To see the joy on Dustin’s face when he found out. To feel that loss undone. It would be everything. Only it was just a dream.

“What do you want to talk about tonight?” he asked instead, because he couldn’t wake up and the grief was too much.

“You never explained how Hopper is alive,” Eddie replied, apparently happy to go with his change of subject. “He was one of my best customers for a while, y’know. Man liked his weed.”

Steve did something of a mental recalibration.

“That makes more sense than it should,” he replied. “Well y’know how Hopper supposedly died in the fire at the mall? You remember how we mentioned it was Russians when we gave you the whole Upside Down explanation?”

After Eddie nodded, Steve proceeded to explain everything about Starcourt and the base underneath and Hopper’s supposed sacrifice, as well as the things he had heard about a secret Russian prison and what had been going on there. Once again it was liberating to just talk about all the things he couldn’t usually talk about. Robin was always there for him if he needed an ear, but sometimes talking about it reignited her nightmares and Steve hated to do that.

“So, both you and Hopper got seriously tortured by Russians?” Eddie asked after Steve had spun his tale.

“I guess,” he replied, “but Hop got it much worse. He’s a lean mean fighting machine now. You would not believe it.”

“I don’t think it matters who got it worse, Harrington,” Eddie said surprisingly vehement. “Torture is torture and no one should have to go through it. The more I learn about you, the more amazed I am you’re not batshit crazy.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said, trying to make a joke of it, “just ask Robin.”

“I take it back,” Eddie said, “maybe you are a bit batshit after all.”

Which given that was something Steve often wondered about himself, made sense coming from his subconscious.

“If you could, what would you be doing right now?” he asked, because he didn’t want to talk about Russians anymore.

Eddie grinned, his eyes going distant for a moment.

“My uncle bought me a ticket to see Metallica in Indie for my last birthday,” Eddie replied after a moment. “April 8th. Guess I missed it.”

Steve nodded, wondering if his mind was making things up or if he’d maybe overheard Eddie mention the concert to Dustin or something and just not registered it.

“That’s what I’d like to be doing now,” Eddie said wistfully. “Would have liked to see them live before biting the big one.”

A grimace flashed across Eddie’s face as he spoke. Steve saw his eyes darken.

“You need to feed,” he said with certainty.

It was almost as if he could sense it.

“You’ve given me so much already, Steve,” Eddie said, tone completely serious.

“Might as well finish it then,” he replied.

His choice of words caught him by surprise, especially when he realised, he meant them. He wondered if this would be the last time he would see Eddie in his dreams as Eddie’s eyes zeroed in on his throat.

“Take what you need,” he said.

Rather than raising his wrist, he tilted his head to the side. It seemed kind of poetic that if this was the last time, they did it properly, like in the movies.

“You don’t…” Eddie started to say.

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “This is for me as much as it is for you.”

He wasn’t sure why. Didn’t understand what his subconscious was doing, but he knew that much.

Eddie hesitated. The other man was clearly torn, but his eyes were black with that little red ring. Steve knew he was going to win this one.

It almost felt like the beginning of a kiss as Eddie stepped up to him. They were nearly the same height and Eddie placed both hands on his chest to brace himself. Steve closed his eyes and waited.

The bite hurt no more or less than on his wrist, but it somehow felt more intimate. His reaction, however, was identical, although he swayed into Eddie’s hold. This time though, it was as if he could sense Eddie more clearly, could feel how close to complete this was. As Eddie drank in his blood and his energy, he felt everything click into place. He couldn’t explain it, he just knew.

“Steve,” he heard Eddie groan. “Steve, something … oh Jesus … Steve. Help…”

Steve sat up in bed, breathing hard. Staring around he almost expected it to be the unending darkness of the void, but it was just his room. He could feel the ghost of Eddie’s fangs on his throat. The touch of Eddie’s lips against his skin.

The clock next to the bed showed 2:57 with its glowing numbers. He’d been asleep for hours, but it had felt like a lot less.

“Steve!”

Eddie’s voice echoed through his mind.

“Please, Steve, help me. I don’t know where I am.” The voice was distant and distorted, almost as if it was travelling through something like water. Scrambling out of bed, he went to the window. His yard and pool were dark since none of the outside lights were on. The only thing that grabbed his attention was the faintest red glow from the water.

End of Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[artbyblastweave]

worm sounds fascinating, how do I get started reading it? would you recommend starting from the beginning?

(Here we go)

So, first off, the specific questions you asked indicate that I should probably clarify the following: Worm is a single self-contained novel by Canadian author John McCrae (Pen name Wildbow). The book was written and published online for free on Wordpress, at a rate of two-to-three chapters a week, over the course of two years between 2011 and 2013. It's useful to conceive of it as a book written under the same paradigm as a particularly-faithfully-attended-to webcomic, except (and very unusually for a superhero thing) it's entirely prose with no visual elements. All of this is a longwinded way of answering your second question; yes, you should absolutely read it from the beginning, and the beginning is here. The entire book is available online, for free.

(In case that you haven't been able to pull together a broad sense of what the book is about just from perusing my Tumblr, I wrote a broad pitch for the setting at large and the story of Worm specifically here. The gist is that it’s a reconstructive superhero setting where superpowers are ironically tied into the user’s moment of greatest rock-bottom trauma, which is a major explanatory factor in why there are so many unstable kooks in costumes taking out their frustrations on the world; Worm proper follows the upwards-and-downwards trajectory of one Taylor Hebert, a teenaged insect-controller and would-be superhero with the secondary superpower of being able to rationalize nearly anything she does as being in the service of some greater good.)

Worm is divided into 31 arcs; each arc is comprised of 6-to-10 chapters, told in first person from Taylor’s perspective, followed by an interlude chapter told in third-person from the perspective of a member of the supporting cast. This structure is partly a holdover from early in Worm’s development, when the book was conceived as an ensemble piece that would rotate perspectives between different cape teams; as the book picked up steam, it also became a monetization vector, as Wildbow would write additional interludes if his donors hit certain milestones. This is important to note because one failure mode I’ve seen for reading Worm is that people will assume they can safely skip something called a “donation interlude” without missing anything important. You can’t. From a thematic perspective, the interludes are a major method by which the narrative keeps the protagonist honest, as they provide a sane or at least differently-insane perspective on the situation at hand, or on whatever over-the-top bullshit Taylor has pulled recently. From a craft perspective, the interludes are some of the best and most memorable writing in the book, at least in part due to the novelty of each character’s perspective.  From a story perspective, Wildbow was very diligent about making sure that most or all of the interludes introduced information or set up future events in a way that, if worst came to worst, he could incorporate into a regular chapter if the goal wasn’t met. But he did meet those donation milestones, meaning a lot of the book isn’t gonna make sense if you don’t read the interludes. Read the interludes.

You may have caught on to that “31 arcs with 5-10 chapters an arc” factoid and done some quick napkin math. Worm is long. Very Very Long. To my knowledge, Wildbow didn’t miss an update once, and 10,000 words every three days is considered a middle-of-the-road output for him. The effect of his truly insane production rate is twofold. First, the quality of Worm’s prose increases exponentially over the course of the book, going from workmanlike to amazing as a result of the sheer volume of practice he was getting. The second effect is that it’s 1.7 million words long. There’s a piece of apocrypha about how a mail-order copy of Stephen King’s It fell through a mailslot and pulverized the recipients chihuahua. Top researchers hypothesize that a printed edition of Worm could plausibly achieve similar results with a mastiff. This is mitigated by the pageless online format that lets you consume vast quantities of text without noticing the volume of what you’ve read; kinda similar to the infinite canvas trick that make some webcomics unprintable, or the infinite scroll UI trick if it were used for good instead of evil. But the gist is that Worm is very Long, and it’s also essentially a rough draft. Your enjoyment therefore might be contingent on your willingness to extend it a mulligan based on the absurd circumstances under which it was produced.

The very first chapter of Worm has the following disclaimer; Brief note from the author:  This story isn’t intended for young or sensitive readers.  Readers who are on the lookout for trigger warnings are advised to give Worm a pass. Some people interpret this as glib or dismissive on the part of the author; I think what’s closer to true is that he was just saving time, because the alternative would be most of the first chapter just being a ten-thousand-word long list of specifics. I can’t think of a single common trigger warning that isn’t applicable to Worm. Name a fucked-up thing, and it’s in there somewhere. Special mentions going to Bug Stuff (duh), dismemberment, torture, child abuse, incest, implied (and some offscreen) sexual assault, Nazis, animal death, and horrifically fleshed-out descriptions of bullying and institutional apathy, which are heavily influenced by the author’s own experience as a disabled student in public school. Reader Beware.

And, on a related note, the book was pretty clearly trying to be progressive.... by 2011 standards, which means you’re gonna be sucking air in through your teeth at points vis a vis representational issues, if that’s a big sticking point. It would be disingenuous for me to frame this as something that meaningfully detracted from my own reading experience, but it would be equally disingenuous to act like it doesn’t bother anyone deeply, and for valid reasons. To hone in on the queer rep angle specifically, picture the discourse if Ianthe was the only canon-lesbian character with any focus in TLT and you’re getting close to the situation on that front.

Wildbow (AKA Writers Georg, who should not have been counted) continued to maintain the two-chapter-a-week production rate to this day. His other works include: 

Pact (2014-2015) and Pale (2020-present) which are Urban fantasy works set in a universe colloquially known as the Otherverse, a setting in which essentially all magic is fueled by bullshitting the universe so hard that your chosen magical tradition is incorporated into reality as Something That Is Allowed; a major downstream result of this is that the sheer weight of precedent means that no magical practitioner is allowed to explicitly lie, on pain of the universe revoking their magical ability if they’re called out on it. Pact follows the misadventures of Blake Thorburn, a jaded 20-something who gets a target painted on his back after his grandmother- a widely feared diabolist- kicks the bucket and wills him her potentially apocalyptic cache of demonic texts as part of a complicated post-mortem gambit. Pale is a murder mystery/coming of age story. Set in Kennet, a small Canadian town with a subculture of unorthodox magical creatures who’ve managed to avoid being subordinated by more powerful human practitioners, the story follows a trio of pre-teen witches who’re hurriedly brought into the magical fold and tasked with trying to solve the murder of an extremely powerful magical being whose residence in the area was a major warding factor against magicians moving in and trying to bind the locals. 

Twig (2017-2018), a biopunk alternate-history coming-of-age novel set in a universe where, instead of writing Frankenstein, Mary Shelley actually figured out how to reanimate the dead; this kicked off a necroengineering/bioengineering revolution that leads to Britain conquering much of the world by the 1920s, lording over their holdings with everything from Kaiju to designer plagues, with a Royal Family that’s been modified into undying, post-human atrocities who treat their subjects as playthings as best. The protagonists are The Lambs, a group of heavily augmented child-soldiers used by The Crown’s science division as an investigation and infiltration unit; picture here The Hardy Boys or Scooby Doo if every case they were sent out on was in service of Ingsoc.  Alternatively, think of Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan trilogy with the same aesthetic sensibilities, but paired with the balls to portray British Imperialism as backed by genetic engineering as something apocalyptically horrifying rather than as forbidden-love fuel.

Ward (2018-2020) is the sequel to Worm, set in the parahumans universe two years after the end of the first book. Basically impossible to describe in any additional detail without massive spoilers; suffice to say that it was contentious. I liked it personally, and I maintain that it’s main error was not having the same ten years of Pre-writing that Worm got. Other works in the same universe as Worm include PHO Sundays, which were RP threads that Wildbow ran weekly on the official subreddit in which he would post a fictitious forum thread from within the setting’s cape enthusiast forums, PRT Quest, which was a semi-canon Play-by-Vote quest on the Spacebattles Forums, and Weaverdice, which is an ongoing WIP TTRPG for the parahumans universe that he works on in his spare time, and for which he’s written a lot of fleshed out faction documents and character profiles.

There’s probably some level of broad fandom analysis it’d be useful to impart here; one interesting bit of fandom lore is that, by virtue of being a superhero setting that made some effort to be internally coherent, the series received a big bump from the Rationalist community, who you may or may not have run into on here. The series was also a big hit with battle boarders, who-would-winners, and that whole corner of nerddom, since the power system is so well-defined and well-articulated; a consequence of this is that a major Worm fandom Locus is the wargaming-site spacebattles, which was hit with such an ongoing deluge of Worm Fanfiction that they have a designated Worm section on the creative writing board, something no other fandom necessitated. Both of those things have affected the shape of the fandom and the fanfiction scene in ways that I don’t feel qualified to comment extensively on this late in the evening, but it’s a fascinating little abyss to have a staring contest with. At any rate, I’d genuinely would recommend the subreddit for the OC threads, worldbuilding idea threads, and stuff of that nature, the Cauldron discord if you’re into fanfiction, and Tumblr if you’re into rambling character analysis. I would recommend none of these things before you’re actually done with the book.

That’s all I’ve got for the moment. Hope you enjoy the book. Or shun the book, if my sundry disclaimers generated a sort of warding effect. I hope you have a contextually appropriate interaction with the book.

[maybege]

Booth Jazz

Summary: You and Boba explore a little fantasy – as a treat. (Part 4 of Midnight Special)

Pairing: hot dad!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.0k

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom/sub relationship, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, consensual degradation and namecalling, multiple orgasms, creampie, car sex, mention of somnophilia, also these two idiots have feelings

I know it’s been a while but I hope that some of you are still interested in this little project. Updates will remain irregular for a while but you can look up the most recent posting schedule here. As always, big shout out to @ayybtch for enduring my thirsting for hot dad!Boba. I hope you all have an amazing start into the week and let me know what you think of this chapter!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“Back again, huh?” the man behind the counter greeted you, “And on a Thursday no less.”

“Yeah,” you smiled sheepishly, nervously motioning to the menu, “Could I get a cider please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he nodded, wiping it one more time before grabbing a glass from behind him. You waited patiently, looking around the room and finding that while it was a little more crowded than last time you had been here, you recognized none of the people which was a good thing.

The last time you had been here, it was a weekend with live music. Now it was a Thursday evening which meant that there was a sports game of some sort playing on the large TVs, the centre of attention of the patrons that were there.

It did not escape you that the bartender looked you over, no doubt noticing your very fancy outfit for a Thursday night. Then again, he had never seen you wear anything else.

“Here you go,” the full glass slid towards you, leaving a wet trail on the polished wood, he nodded towards the end of the room, “Should I put it on his tab?”

“That would be great, thanks,” you smiled, taking your glass in hand before making your way to the direction he had nodded towards.

No one paid you any mind, the game being a finale of some sort. Still, you felt as though everybody. You were wearing a dark green cocktail dress, the fabric shiny in the low light and the neckline lower than what you usually wore. And, when the light shone just right, revealing the texture f the lace of your bra underneath. The fabric felt cool and smooth against your hot skin you felt as if everybody could see up your skirt even though the hem hit your knees with every step.

Your steps quickened when you spotted a single man occupying one of the booths at the very end of the room. He was looking down at his phone, intentionally paying you no mind and a coy smile slipped on your lips.

Without stopping, you raised your legs, making to climb over his lap as he was blocking one entry to the bench. Boba’s hand shot up, gripping your hip and keeping you standing over him while his eyes roamed over your figure.

You bit your lip, seeing how his eyes darkened when they landed on your chest, your nipples already pebbled and visibly through the fabric.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked teasingly, shivering when his hand left your hip, trailing down your legs until it simply fell to his side.

“Not at all,” he rasped, motioning to the free space next to him, “Feel free.”

You settled down next to him in the booth, Boba’s arm immediately coming to rest around your shoulders.

“Hello there, little one,” he rumbled, turning his face to press a kiss against your mouth. It already made you clench your thighs, your anticipation building a thick knot in your lower belly.

He groaned, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to taste you and you thanked the stars that the lights were dimmed in the room or else everybody would see you getting in a heated make-out session with him. His other hand went to your bare thigh, big fingers splaying over the soft flesh as he gripped it and patted your legs.

Your breathing came heavy as his mouth wandered to your jaw and behind your ear. “Sorry, I’m late,” you breathed out, leaning your head back against the plush leather of the booth, “Work ran later than I wanted it to. How can I make it up to you?”

Boba chuckled into your ear, the sound low and gravelly and sending a rush of wetness between your thighs. You already knew he had the filthiest thing in mind and you were so here for it. Your walls fluttered around nothing. All day you had been looking forward to tonight, barely able to focus on work, and now that you were here, it was as if you were already on the edge.

“I want you to take off your panties for me, little one,” he instructed hoarsely, pulling your legs open even further, “I want to finger you right here in the pub and I want you to stay good and quiet for me. Can you do that for me, princess?”

You grinned widely, putting your hand on his and pulling it in between your thighs. “I’m not wearing any … sir,” you bit your bottom lip, suppressing a gasp when you felt his middle finger swipe through your already wet folds, “you can do whatever you want with me. I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he praised you, his thumb circling your clit and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the wet sounds that came from between your legs.

“Stars, you’re wet for me,” he praised you, “Good girl. Gripping my fingers real tight, hm?”

The bar erupted in cheers at the game, chairs scraping on the floor as some stood up, calling for new rounds of beer and high fiving each other.

You whimpered, breath catching in your throat as Boba used the cover of their noise to speed up his movements. Your legs shook and you weakly tried to put your hand on his, pulling them away from your cunt as the knot in your belly tightened. Everything felt warm – hot– and tight and you felt yourself clamp around him, your feet trembling in the heels you were wearing.

Boba mumbled something you did not understand and suddenly his hand was gone and you whined at the loss, arching your hips. But then his hand came back, slapping your pussy and your hand flew to your mouth, biting into your palm as he pulled an orgasm out of you so strongly you were surprised you did not leave an entire wet patch on the floor.

Leaning back against the bench, you felt dizzy and sweaty and

Boba had sat up slightly, his body covering you from anyone who might decide to look into your general direction. He was looking over you, his face dark as his fingers lipped back inside you. Immediately your walls clamped around the digits again and bit your lip, doing your best to remain quiet.

There was the tell-tale bulge in his jeans and you weakly raised your hand to touch him. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel the heat of him and your mouth watered at the thought of getting him into your mouth. Of licking the precoma from his tip before having him push his cock so far down your throat it would make tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

“Fuck I want to sit you on my cock so bad,” he cursed under his breath, his fingers not ceasing their movements and you whimpered, “but that would be a little too obvious, wouldn’t it? You’re too much of a cock slut to stay quiet.“

Boba curled his fingers inside you, slowly rubbing his long fingers against that spongy spot inside you while his thumb swiped over your clit and you bit into his shoulder, feeling slightly sorry for the nice shirt he was wearing as you tried to muffle your sounds. How had you just come and still craved his touch?

Your walls clenched around him. The sounds of the bar echoed in your ears, seemingly getting louder with every thrust of Boba’s fingers inside you. There were people everywhere. And here you were creaming around Boba’s thick fingers as he whispered pure filth into your ear.

“Need you to be quiet for me, little one,” he reminded you with a chuckle, completely pressed up against you, “unless you want everyone to know what a good girl you are for me.”

You nodded frantically, trying your best to keep quiet. But then you saw him look down and you followed his line of sight and the whole staying quiet thing became much more difficult. Because with how you had spread your legs, your dress had ridden up, revealing his thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, glistening from your juices.

A quiet moan left you. one that Boba immediately swallowed up with a heated kiss. His thumb

“If you keep this up you’re going to have to let them watch.”

You knew he did not really mean the second one. Early on in your text messages, he had told you he was not one to share – “And certainly not you, little one” – but his words still flustered you and you squeezed around his fingers.

“Have I told you how much I love this?” he whispered into your ear, clearly trying to coax another orgasm out of you and with the way your pussy got even wetter at his deep voice, it was clearly working.

You shook your head breathlessly, feeling your cheeks heat with anticipation as his teeth grazed your earlobe.

“All we said to each other today was hello before I had my fingers buried in this tight cunt of yours,” he revealed, “You did not even ear any panties, you’re that much of a slut for me. Letting me fuck you right in the booth where we first met.”

You whimpered, thankful for the loud cheers of the other patrons, and bit your lips, trying to ignore how good his degrading words made you feel. But Boba knew you and he could read your body like an open book.

With a teasing smirk on his lips, his other hand came up to your neckline, pushing it to the side and when his thumb caught the lace edge of your bra he just pulled it with him. And suddenly not only were you getting fingered undeath the table but one of your tits was bared to the warm air of the bar.

You gaped at Boba’s confidence before your mouth clamped shut trying to keep your sounds in when he started to play with your nipple. “One more,” he encouraged you, “one more time around my fingers and then we can do whatever we want,” he promised you hotly, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple.

From the corner of your eyes, you spotted someone making their way to the washrooms. Which meant that had to pass by you. Your heart jumped in your throat and your limbs locked up, the pleasure threatening to become too much while the fear of being discovered rendered you silent.

Boba seemed to notice it too, a dark look forming in his eyes as his fingers sped up. He shifted, his body now completely covering yours in the dark booth. “C’mon,” he growled, his thumb flicking over the bundle of nerves, “Either you come right now or you don’t come at all.”

The drunken man stumbled a little, clearly intoxicated, as he supported himself on a table on the other side of the aisle. Boba made a sound at the back of his throat, forcing you to look at him and your breath caught in your throat, walls rhythmically clenching around your fingers.

There was a determination in his eyes and suddenly your entire chest was bared and Boba leant down, biting into the soft flesh of your left breast and you came.

It took everything in you to not slump forward and be seen by everyone in the bar but sideways into Boba’s body, every muscle in your body tensing before relaxing into what felt like melted butter as wetness coated Boba’s fingers.

You closed your eyes, completely out of breath, uncaring that your tits were still very much out in the open.

“Good girl,” Boba mumbled against your temple, pressing a kiss against your cheek as his fingers slowed their thrusts until he pulled them entirely from you, “My goof fucking girl.”

You smiled dreamily, pushing your face into the crook of his neck, “Thank you for making me come, Boba.”

He chuckled and you felt his chest move with the sound. “You’re very welcome, little one,” he rumbled, “How are you feeling?”

Shifting in your seat you grimaced as you felt the wat patch between and under your thighs. The leather was slippery and your skin felt like it was glued to it.

“Sticky,” you answered truthfully, heat shooting into your cheeks, “Stars, I am so embarrassed, I – it feels like I left a puddle. They will know what we did and –“

“Let me worry about that okay?” he interrupted you gently and you watched with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, making a show of sucking and licking your juices from his skin. His dark eyes kept looking at you and you felt your lower belly clench with want.

Stars knew you would not be able to come again so easily but you needed him.

“Let’s go to your car,” you breathed, your hands falling to his thighs, “I – I need you.”

“But you haven’t even finished your drink, little one,” the older man teased you, his lips dragging over your shoulder as he helped you to straighten out your dress. The soft fabric felt cold against your heated skin and you were glad that you had chosen a dark colour because you were sure otherwise everybody would be able to see the stains on it as it plastered to your wet skin.

“I don’t care, I don’t want it,” you pouted, one hand rubbing him through his jeans and you noted with a hint of satisfaction that his jaw tensed as he tried to keep it together, “I only want you.”

“Good, then promise me you won’t get angry with me, princess.”

Your frowned, “What-“

Something wet and cold spilled over both of you – but mainly you. You gasped at the shock, the cider immediately soaking through the fabric of your dress and you scooted away from him, quickly making a grab for some napkins that you pressed on your lap.

“Oh no,” Boba said drily, wiping his hands on a dark patch on his jeans, “I better go ask the bartender for something to clean up this mess with.”

Only now did you realize what exactly Boba had done. Because with you scooting away, the glass had not stopped spilling – it simply spilled on the already wet leather now. Which meant Boba had the perfect cover to wipe down the table and the bench and no one would be the wiser.

Well, except for you.

He came back a moment later with a rag and motioned for you to stand up which you did readily, grimacing at the sticky feeling. You watched as Boba bent over the bench, thoroughly wiping everything away and making sure not a trace of your activities was left before he stood up again.

“There we go,” he mumbled, eyes roaming over your form and his lips quirked up, “And I am sure you don’t want to stay here in these wet clothes, little one. I think I might have a shirt back in the car that you could borrow. Sound good?”

You smiled, “very good.”

Boba smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist as he guided you out of the bar. The other patrons were so busy with the game they did not even notice you leave.

The front of the bar was completely abandoned and you smiled when he led you into an all-familiar alley. “Keep it in your pants, little one,” Boba joked, passing the spot where he had first thrust inside you, “I’m not gonna fuck you against this brick wall again.”

Your shoulders fell, “Why not?”

“Because there are so many other places I want to fuck you first.”

“Oh?”

But Boba ignored your very obvious interest in that line of conversation as he led you to the parking lot at the back of the building. Much like the bar, there were a few cars there but it was not too crowded which meant that you recognized Boba’s truck immediately, your steps speeding up the closer you got.

The headlights lit up as he unlocked it and you smiled when he passed the driver’s door and instead opened the back door.

“Not to forget the secret wish a little birdie told me,” he smiled, settling himself in the back seat, already fiddling with his belt.

You hiked your dress up, “Which is?”

Boba grinned wolfishly, clearly happy with how the evening had progressed and his warm hands found your hips, pulling you on top of him. You looked down to where he was freeing himself from his briefs, thick and heavy and already leaking precome.

“That someone would very much like to be fucked in her sleep,” he revealed, a knowing look in his eyes and once again Boba Fett managed to fluster you, “but you did not expect me to say that now did you?”

“How did you know?” you asked, softly gasping when his hands once again pushed the neckline of your dress out of the way before pulling down the soft cups from your bra, revealing your tits to the cold night air.

“A hunch,” he shrugged, “That and the fact that you were begging me to fuck you by the time you were half asleep,” his fingers rolled your nipples between them, “I believe your exact words were I don’t mind if I wake up with your cock inside me, Sir.”

Both embarrassment and pleasure coursed through and you threw your head back, “Oh stars.”

A loud groan left him when your wet folds rubbed up against his shaft. “Fuck, little one, don’t think I will last long tonight. Not like that.”

But you did not let him deteriorate from your mission. With one hand supporting yourself on his shoulder, the other pumped his cock, keeping him steady so that you could sink down in him in one go. You wanted all of him and you wanted it fast and hard.

“I don’t need to come, Boba,” you replied breathlessly, working yourself onto him, “I – I just want you to come inside me, please. W-Want you to fill me up again so I can feel you tomorrow.”

The sound he let out was beautiful and you let your hands drift over his shoulders down to the fabric that was covering him. You lifted yourself up in the process, relishing in how thick he was inside you, how he seemed to rub against your walls in only the best way, before sinking down again, the sudden movement causing a slapping sound.

Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, your hands roamed over his chest and belly, exploring his tattoos. Boba moaned, his hand squeezing your tits and massaging them roughly, sometimes venturing to circle your nipples and pull them just how you liked it.

“Feel so good,” he brought out, his hips starting to meet yours and you lost your rhythm, simply letting him fuck up into you, “Tightest little pussy just for me.”

You buried your face in his neck, whining at the way he kept using you to get off. Shit, you knew you would not come again and yet there was something so very hot about Boba for once only being concerned with his pleasure.

A broad hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you away from him until you were face to face. “Look at me,” he ordered breathlessly, his eyes glassy and you leant forward, kissing him as hard you could. With every thrust, his cock seemed to reach deeper inside you and your clit rubbed against his belly, more or less accidentally stimulating you.

“You really just want me to come inside you, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand tightened, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Say it.”

“I just want you to come inside me,” you squeaked out, your “Please, I just want you to come inside me. Just use me. Please use me. Pleasepleasepleaseplease –“

He surged forward, teeth clashing against yours and his hips snapped up even harder. He was close, you could feel it in the way he hardened inside you, how his hand tightened around your neck and how his breathing became shallow, dark eyes locking with yours.

And then he came.

The car windows were foggy and your eyes rolled back in your head when the feeling of his seed spilling inside you triggered the surprising third orgasm of the night. You felt warm and full, Boba’s solid body underneath yours the one thing that grounded you in reality.

Catching your breath, you cuddled into his chest, ignoring how his come started to trickle out of you around his cock while Boba gently brushed your back, his lip pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach.

“Thank you for coming inside me,” you mumbled sweetly and grinned when you felt him twitch inside you again.

“Stars, woman,” he groaned, running his hand over his face, “You are really going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

You laughed, “I hope not.”

It was silent for a moment before both of became aware that you were indeed very much in public and that it only needed one patron to come out to notice what you had done. Which meant that, as slowly as possible, you pulled away from each other.

“Here,” he whispered, reaching behind him and handing you a dark t-shirt, “This might be more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, pecking his lips before quickly changing in front of him, “So what do we do now?”

Boba looked down, focussing on re-buttoning his shirt. “I have an idea.”

*

For a moment, you had feared that he would drive you home already.

But that fear dissipated quickly when he turned into the local fast food’s drive-in.

He got each of you a burger and a milkshake and some fries to share, depositing them between your seats. Still parked behind the neon sign of the drive-in, you mostly ate in silence, quickly devouring your food and drinks while smiling and looking warmly at each other.

Neither one of you wanted to address the elephant in the room.

Only when the music on the radio changed from Electro House something to Calm Country go home music did Boba start the car again, taking the route to get you home.

“When’s your flight?” you asked into the quiet, pressing a kiss against his neck. Your heart was still racing in your chest and with the slight sheen of sweat on your skin, you shivered from the cool night air that came through the window you had cracked open.

“Four a.m.” he replied, a large truck passing you, “A buddy of mine is going to drive me to the airport.”

You hummed, looking out the window. You had been so excited for tonight, for good reason too, but now you felt as if the little time you had, had passed way too quickly. You wanted to hold on to him, this, for just a few hours longer but a look at the dashboards clock – 2:30 am – told you there was no that was going to happen.

“Two weeks,” you sighed, slumping against his side, “I’m going to miss you.”

Boba’s hand slipped from the gearshift to your thigh, lightly squeezing your knee, “I will miss you too, little one. Did not think an all-inclusive business trip to Hawaii would have me this hesitant.”

Neither one of you said anything as he kept driving, the city sights soon turning into familiar streets and your heart ached as he pulled into the parking lot in front of your apartment complex. It was completely abandoned and only the street lamp Boba had parked in front offered a little light.

Both of you remained sitting in the car and it calmed you somewhat that Boba seemed as reluctant to let you go as you were.

“Will – will you text?” you asked, turning to the side to face him while your hand already rested on the doorknob.

He looked serious, then, nodding slowly as if getting used to the thought. “Yeah, little one,” he whispered, “I will.”

As you hurried up the stairs to your apartment, confident that none of your neighbours would be awake to see you only in a slightly too long shirt, you wondered if this something between you could be more than a booty call.

[sillyrabbit81]

Tropesville - Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Noah and Mika continue to explore their new found intimacy.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Mikaela (OFC)

Word Count: approx. 2.hk

Warnings: smut, sex (p in v)

Authors Note: I got a prompt from @omgkatinka and I started it as a one-shot and thought, nah, I could do heaps with this and it just kept expanding. Anyway, I hope you all like it.

Thanks to @amberangel112@henryobsessed for their help on this, Beta reading and helping me get my wild ideas in order. Also, thanks to @littlefreya and @blakerogue for their words of encouragement this week. I needed them!

Sorry I took so long to update!

Masterlist

Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fourteen

Syverson POV

I fell asleep. I’m not ashamed to admit I like a good nap after sex sometimes. This time Mika must have been tired too because when I woke up, she still had her head on my shoulder and her hand still in mine. My other hand was on her ass, and I resisted the temptation to give it a squeeze, I didn’t want to wake her just yet.

I laid there thinking, replaying what we had done in my head, God damn she was the sweetest thing. I loved her curiosity, the way she was able to let go and do what she instinctively felt, and the trust she had in me, is it weird to say it made me proud? Maybe, but that’s how I felt, it was a beautiful thing. I never felt more like a man than when she came undone in my arms, and I was able to push through all her nervousness and fear to make her comfortable enough to give up control.

I started thinking about where we would go from here. What would our relationship look like? Would we move in together soon? I’d have to move into her house, I wouldn’t ask her to give up on her cottage. I reminded myself to relax, to not get ahead of myself, Mika waited years to have sex, maybe she wouldn’t want me to move in with her unless we were married. It seems strange that although I know her so well, there was so much we never talked about.

Mika started stirring, I let go of her hand and started rubbing her cheek with my thumb. She smiled before she opened her eyes and snuggled into me. “You’re so warm, Sy,” she said. She yawned and stretched, straightening onto her back a moment before draping her arm over me again. I grinned, liking that she seemed so much more comfortable touching me now.

“Sleep well?” I asked. I started running my hand over Mika’s back again, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. It was like I was making up for all the times I wished I could have been with her like this.

Letting out a short moan of agreement she asked, “How long did we sleep for?”

I glanced at the clock by the bed. “Not even an hour.” Mika moaned again so I asked, “Are you still tired Chicken?”

“A little, but I was hoping we had slept all night so we could go home and this whole nightmare could be over.”

I knew she didn’t mean what happened between us was a nightmare, but I couldn’t resist teasing. “You didn’t sound like you were having a nightmare an hour ago.”

Mika covered hid her face under my arm and shoved me with her elbow. “You’re a dick, Sy,” she giggled. I liked hearing that, I liked knowing that we could still tease each other like we did before, it was part of what I liked about being with her and I’m glad it wasn’t going to change.

“You wanna go home early? We could leave and make it back home before dinner.”

Raising her head again, it was still flushed with embarrassment, she said, “Can we? I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I brought her over so she was laying on top of me. She yelped as I did, and I hummed as I ran my hand over her hips and waist. She felt nice there, and her hair covered my face briefly before she pulled it out of the way and filling my nose with that smell that seemed to evoke a Pavlovian response in me and my dick twitched.

“You owe one more night together,” I said, running my fingers through her hair.

Mika giggled, and asked cheekily, “Just one?”

I raised my eyebrows and I growled, “Are you bein’ sassy?” Mika bit her lip and I worried I had gone too far, but that’s not what her eyes said. My cock stirred, growing harder by the second. My gaze locked on to Mika, and I didn’t try to hide my feelings. It stunned me when I saw my desire reflected back. I couldn’t stop the smile on my face, she wasn’t trying to hide from me and making it clear she wanted me. Slowly she brought her mouth to mine, her lips brushing delicately against me. My hand turned into a fist in her hair, and I wrapped the other tight around her. We stared into each others eyes, our breaths intermingling, until Mika kissed me again, her velvety flesh coaxing mine open and her tongue licked at me.

“Fuck Mika,” I groaned, my arm squeezing her tighter. I tried to stop them, but my knees came up instinctively and my hips thrust up. I kissed her back, all restraint I had before was gone. I knew what she felt like now and instead of quelling my need it only made me want her more. I pulled her hair back, not hard, but enough that she let herself be lead and her throat extended. She gasped and pressed herself against me as I kissed her neck, sucking at her taut skin.

“Noah,” Mika sighed, her voice held a soft plea.

“Tell me,” I insisted, my teeth grazing her collarbone. I knew what she wanted, but I needed her to say it, it was so hot when she did. Mika didn’t answer but her timid moans filled the air urging me on. My mouth moved up her neck again my tongue leaving a trail up to her ear. I took her lobe into my mouth sucking gently before biting and growling, “Tell me what you want, Mika.”

“You, I want you,” her murmured, breathy words sent a thrill through me. I reached behind Mika and grabbed my cock closing my eyes as my hand enclosed it and was about to slide it over her when I remembered the condom.

“Shit,” I said, throwing my head back onto the pillows. I took a minute to catch my breath. Mika looked at me confused and maybe hurt. “I forgot I needed a condom,” I explained. Her face relaxed. She stretched and leaned over me, her nipples skimmed me face as she did. I saw her shy away from my beard and it made me grin. I had to tell myself sternly not to bite at them as they hovered an inch from my mouth.

“Here,” Mika said, passing me the foil packet. I sat up, taking Mika with me and she rested on my thighs.

I worked quickly putting the condom on and glancing at Mika I noticed she was staring at down at me. I took a few deep breaths, her eyes on me made me feel so good I almost didn’t want her to stop. I slid my hands over her thighs, they felt both soft and firm and I gave her a gentle squeeze as I reached her hips. “Come ‘ere,” I said. Her eyes met mine as I lifted her hips until she was on her knees.

As she rose her tits were in front of my face and I grinned stupidly at her, “Have I told you how beautiful your girls are?” I didn’t wait for a response and held her with one arm around her back so she couldn’t shy away and brought one of her little buds in my mouth. She giggled and tried to pull away before relaxing into it, and I heard her soft moans.

I moved my free hand around her thigh and groaned as my fingers slid over her wet slit. I didn’t tease and slid a finger inside her and felt her clamp down hard on me as she hissed. I pulled away from her, concerned, “You sore?”

“A little,” she confessed.

Trying not to let my disappointment show, I took both my hands away from her. I didn’t want to hurt her. I forced myself to smile, and said, “That’s ok. Let’s wait until you feel better.”

I almost laughed at the disappointment on Mika’s face, it was as bad as my own. But she surprised me, holding my face in her hands, she said firmly, “No,” then kissed me.

Any restraint I had on my inner beast was lost as her soft mouth sucked on tongue. I grabbed my cock and brought her hips down, shaking with need as I felt myself push into her warm core. Mika threw her head back as I sunk into her, and her nails dug painfully into my neck. “Fuck!” she groaned before bringing her gaze back to me.

I held Mika close as I tried to calm down, I put my hand on the nape of her neck, bringing her face to mine, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. We were both panting hard already, and adrenaline pumped through me, my blood so hot I felt on fire. Ordering myself to relax, not to rush, I asked her, “You ok?”

Mika nodded, but I still didn’t trust myself to move. I really didn’t want to hurt her, but it was like it was harder to control myself this time than the first time. Mika didn’t help and she whispered, “You feel so good Noah.”

“Fuck Mika,” I strained to say before I pressed my lips into hers. I laid down and brought her with me, bent my knees again and started to move. Breaking the kiss for breath, I watched Mika as my thrusts made her bounce above me. Her expression seemed to flirt on the edge of pain and bliss, her eyes squeezed closed, her lips parted as she moaned each breath. “Look at me, Mika,” I demanded, grunting each word out. Her blue eyes opened, and her gaze said bliss was winning. I grinned, gritting my teeth pumping into her until I felt my balls rise in my sack and I had to slow down.

I guided her to sit up and I laughed as her eyes widened and she whimpered. “Feel good up there?” I asked. She giggled and nodded. “You look good there,” I said, placing my hands on her hips and letting them slip down over her ass. Gripping her soft flesh I pulled her forward, then pushed her back, feeling her soft walls grip me as I slid in and out of her.

She made that face again and I smiled as she started to follow my lead, rocking back and forth. She soon found her own rhythm and I watched rivetted as she closed her eyes, experimenting with pace, moving until I felt her start to tighten around me. My fingers dug into her hips, and I moved with her. She started to shake as she moved. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. Nothing could make me stop, I wanted to see her fall apart again, she looked so good when she did.

Mika’s fingers scratched at my chest, her cries grew louder, and I felt her pulse around me. God damn she was beautiful as she shook, and a warm blush crept up her neck and cheeks. She fell on me panting, and I held her face to mine, brushing her hair away. “You looked so fuckin’ hot,” I told her. She smiled, almost lazily and I almost told her I loved her. Instead, I smiled back at her, chuckling softly, and rolled us over until Mika was on her back.

I started moving again, slowly at first while Mika came down from her high, making sure she was ok to go on. Her arms went under mine and she gripped my shoulders, bringing her lips to my mouth, and kissing me again. I didn’t hold back. She moved underneath me, and her mouth moved under my jaw and along my neck. Her lips were hot against my skin, her burning kisses proved my undoing and this time when I felt the moment where I either slowed down or kept going, I found I couldn’t stop. I searched for her mouth and finding it I kissed her. Mumbled words fell from me, telling her how good she felt. Mika bit my lip and the moment was sealed. I swore as I came, thrusting hard into her with each of my final throes.

After showering again, and packing we decided to leave. I stopped in to check on Matt and his parents while Mika waited for me, understandably not wanting to see them just yet. Uncle Paneet was drunk, laughing and pouring drinks and was a little put out that I refused, but I explained I was taking Mika home and his demeanour changed. “Oh, she’s a good one, Noah,” he slurred and patted me on the back until I coughed. “You take care of her now. What that bitch did to her,” he shook his head, “Awful.”

“You heard ‘bout that?”

“Everyone heard about it!” he said. I was glad Mika stayed in the room and that we had decided to leave. She’s been through enough already.

Matt was surprisingly good, it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His eyes were red still but even his voice seemed more animated. Shaking my hand, he said, “Thanks man. I uh, I owe you one. You gave it to me straight.”

“You owe Mika an apology,” I said. But I shook his hand anyway.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I probably do.”

After kissing Aunt Monica goodbye, Mika and I packed the car and left. It was a nice drive home, we held hands and joked like we always did. Mika’s shyness seemly fading the more time we spent with each other and her playful side which had retreated most of this weekend came back.

As we drew closer to home I asked her, “You wanna spend the night at my place?”

Mika bit her lip, and grinned, “Maybe.”

I laughed and warned her, “I can’t promise much more than cuddles. I don’t think I’ve ever gone four times in one day.”

“That’s fine, but your tongue still works, doesn’t it?”

“Mika!” I yelled, thoroughly shocked by her crassness. Then I laughed, “Jesus, woman.”

She blushed and giggled, “I’m joking.”

“I know, I just never expected it from you.” I looked over at her. She looked so happy, it made me feel all warm inside. “I like it though.”

By the time I pulled into my driveway, it had gotten dark, and I cursed as I saw I had left the light on in my lounge room. “Shit, that’s gonna cost me.”

I walked Mika back to her place with her bags. She kissed me and promised she’d be at my place in around half an hour. “Can’t wait, Chicken,” I said kissing her nose. I practically skipped back to my house, I felt so light and satisfied. Grinning, I grabbed my bags from the truck and went inside.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I entered my lounge room, “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” I asked, my gaze immediately went next door to Mika. She’s gonna shit bricks.

“Well, hi yourself Sy,” Liza said.

Chapter Fifteen

Tag List 1

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[stillness-in-green]

Chapter Thoughts: 372 — Naked

Dropping this right in the wake of leaks, so let's just go ahead and put this jump here, shall we?  (Note: I have seen the leaks, but am opting not to update the post below and its continued kvetching about the story’s messaging via Shouji.  There’ll be time for that next week.)

How Shouji and Koda Got Here:

I have a few notes on this, all about the first page.

O A faint “off” panel from a while back is explained!  I wrote before about this panel in Chapter 335, and how I thought it foreshadowed Shouji’s involvement in the heteromorph plot and a confrontation with Spinner.  I thought at the time that Shouji was just noting that All Might had conspicuously failed to mention the League’s resident heteromorph and was subtly calling it out.

Now, reading between the lines, we get the real explanation: Shouji had already spoken with the heteromorph giantess and found out about the group of heteromorphs planning the attack on the hospital.  What he was reacting to in 335 wasn’t the omission of Spinner, but rather the omission of the hospital raid from All Might’s list of what the heroes were up against.  Totally still foreshadowing for the heteromorph plotline, though!

(This does make the timing weird, given that we wouldn’t see Spinner sending out the call to action for another five chapters.  One does not plan an assault mob fifteen thousand-strong in less than a week, so the groundwork for this would presumably have been going on already, but it is perhaps a touch strange to frame Spinner “pulling the trigger” with a group that very much is not the group he’ll be leading later on, and even stranger to picture that group when talking about early word of the hospital raid.)

O I assume the “troubling things” the giant gal mentioned was her comment that she’d been turned away by numerous shelters because of her heteromorph status, but it still would have been nice to see a reaction from Shouji about that line in the moment.  As we can see from the 335 panel, Horikoshi is perfectly capable of putting in little beats like that to come back to later!  Shouji’s only appearance in 325, though, was him being offered an umbrella by some other heteromorph—he wasn’t even looking at the giant gal in a way that suggests he was concerned about what she’d said moments before!

(Also, back on this current chapter, rather than the polite Shouji calling her “that large woman,” now would have been a fine time to GIVE HER A DAMN NAME, HORIKOSHI.  Especially since All Might following up with, “Oh right, the big lady!” would have been perfectly adequate context for the previously unmentioned name.)

O This feels like a strange matching choice, in ways that I wonder if will prove to be intentional.  Like, the two most notable characters in this shot are Katana Advisor from the PLF and the Sludge Villain.  Both heteromorphs, to be sure, but neither of them are in the group of heteromorphs going after the hospital?  Katana Advisor was in the group of people AFO teleported in to start the battle; he got shoved through a Monoma-giri portal and hasn’t been seen since.  The Sludge Villain, meanwhile, is with the group attacking Gigantomachia’s location, which is what the above panel, from 341, suggested to begin with, since the group was clearly converging on the ruins of Jakku, where we’d later learn Machia was being kept restrained in the same place he fell.

If anything, the context of the hospital raid makes this plot beat even weirder in retrospect.

O As I said last week, this sudden Shouji/Koda bond is incredibly strained-feeling.  Like, okay, one of the things I’ve long thought about with regard to the student relationships—an observation I originally came to via watching the patterns in what people were shipping—is that, just because some students were together for some early story event or another did not mean that togetherness would translate into a long-term, developed bond.  For example, the Tokoyami/Tsuyu ship seemed popular for a while because they were paired up for their finals, but that relationship never got any particular follow-through; compare that to something like the sustained time made for e.g. Kaminari and Jirou.

Students often just got mix-and-matched, especially in the early going, sometimes as a way to establish relationships that would be important going forward, but also sometimes just because that’s the nature of the school setting.  Here in the endgame, though, in almost every field of battle, we see the relationships that were built up paying off, while the characters that never really got that foundation are placed somewhere they can nominally contribute without being forced to carry unearned dramatic weight.

Izuku and Kacchan go without saying, of course.  Iida and Shouto have been frequently seen together since the Stain arc.  Tsuyu and Ochaco have been the two always dealing with Toga, ever since the training camp.  Mina and Kirishima are middle school friends, giving them (iirc) the second-most long-term relationship of any of the students other than Deku and Bakugou.  Even Jirou and Tokoyami were in the band together, while Aoyama is facing down a specter of AFO’s dark influence, and I’d bet that fight is where the yet-unseen Hagakure will prove to be, building on her and Aoyama’s extremely modest connections surrounding the traitor reveal and their paired combo attack.

Who does that leave?  Momo and Kaminari are at UA, with Momo in particular feeling very egregiously sidelined for a student of her ongoing rate of panel time.  Mineta is with Kirishima and Mina, and while he doesn’t have much going on with Kirishima, there has been a low-key thread of Mina pepping up Mineta when he’s down (the culture festival when he’s bummed about guitar; the raid when he’s worrying about Midnight).  Mineta also faced Machia during the raid and expressed aforementioned fears for Midnight, which makes it fitting to have him defending Machia’s location and seen to face Midnight’s killer.

Sato, Ojiro and Sero, who have neither strong relationships with villains nor with students who do, are tossed off to some stadium at which we haven’t seen a single identifiable villain.  They don’t feel unjustly sidelined like Momo and Kaminari because they were never such major characters to begin with.  Nor do they feel unduly heavily focused on because the story isn’t trying to use their relationships (or lack thereof) to carry major plot points.

Shouji and Koda, however, feel unduly focused on.  To have this opening beat of Koda saying, “If Shouji’s going, then so am I,” needs to have some kind of relationship behind it that was established farther back than a single chapter.  There was none, so it just rings hollow.

Shouji feels equally unfitting as a match-up with Spinner because their connection is entirely a matter of shared oppression, not actual encounters, and even the shared oppression connection is flimsy because Spinner has engaged with that oppression, while Shouji’s experience with it was, prior to last month, entirely relegated to character profile pages, not something he ever opened up about.

I wish I could credit this as being really stirring.  I mean, Shouji (apparently) became a hero specifically because he wanted to promote a cool, respectable image of heteromorphs, so of course he can’t walk away from a group of heteromorphs pushed to an extreme like this!  However, it seems to me that this boils down to yet another instance of the series insisting that only heroes with government licenses and/or teenagers with main character privileges are allowed to step up, while everyone else, no matter what provocation or crisis they’re faced with, is wrong and possibly villainous if they try to do so.

Deku rushes in with no license and no training to help a friend, which would have further complicated rescue efforts if not for All Might’s presence, and might have gotten him killed?  Wow, what amazing moral fibre!  Truly worthy of inheriting the greatest power of all time!

A member of an oppressed minority takes up arms to help a group that promises to change the violent status quo?  They’re being manipulated and used and need to just put their heads back down until someone deigns to come up with a solution for them.  Who cares how badly they or their kids might get hurt in the meantime?

Koda's Quirk Awakening, Part Deux:

Setting aside the whole business of Koda’s mother telling him to grow up to be the kind of man who gets mad when people mock the things/people dear to him (dearness cit. Chapter 371), it strikes me as curious that she framed his horns coming in as a natural development, like they’re something he might just mature into like a kitten growing in the patterns on its coat.  But him just happening to mature into his horn right at the moment he most needs would be an absurd contrivance, right?  Surely this was just a quirk awakening.  Dangerous, harsh conditions, high emotions, an urgent circumstantial need for greater power—it fits all the established criteria.

A quirk awakening would fit, too, with Koda’s mother saying his horns might come in some day.  If it were a natural development lacking any inciting incident, wouldn’t she have just told him they would come in someday, like hers did, or at least that they probably would?

So if it is a quirk awakening, does that mean that Koda’s mother also had one?  That she only described it like some natural possibility because she’s not studied enough on quirks to be familiar with what the MLA term quirk evolution/quirk awakening?  That makes far more sense to me, but it does imply that the hardship she delicately phrased as mockery and “real cruelty” was very dire indeed.

Dire enough to make it even more vexing, watching Scarecrow’s fire and brimstone speeches about heteromorph oppression get shut down for the high crime of Calling Shouji Mean Words >:(  >:(  >:( .

On Protecting: 

The yelling about protecting people drives me nuts because it’s so disingenuous not to allow any of the rioters to respond with an answer to the question Shouji poses.  He challenges them to think about how their children will be scapegoated as a result of this attack, but neither he nor any of them are allowed to reply that children are already being targeted, today, right now in the present, so what difference will it make to just lay down their arms and go away/get arrested?

Spinner, of course, carries on being unable to respond, because no one is allowed to actually engage with equal rhetoric; the only one who could do so got bird-blitzed off a roof without ever actually losing the battle of words.

And Shouji thinks about Aoyama?  For some reason?  And I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be because Shouji is thinking about protecting Aoyama (see again: maybe if they’d ever had a single bonding scene ever) or because he’s admiring Aoyama’s will to protect.  Which could work some, as Aoyama talked about wanting to pay his blessings forward, but I think “saving” is not quite the same thing as “protecting,”(1) and Aoyama’s desire to be a hero is far more about the former than the latter.  It’s just a weird non-sequitur of an inclusion, and irks me in combination with something I’ll talk about in just a bit.

I wish we could get any kind of in on what Shouji really thinks of Spinner.  I wish they could have had any encounters before now that would let him contextualize the change between Spinner as Shouji is seeing him and the Spinner the audience knows.  Because when Shouji asks Spinner what he wants to protect, that’s a question that does have an answer, but as it is, we’ve got no way to know whether Shouji thinks Spinner has an answer he could give and Shouji wants to hear it, or whether Shouji is implying that Spinner doesn’t have anyone or anything he wants to protect, and that lack of motivation is why he his current actions are meaningless.  If Shouji had even an inkling of the truth, that question would feel a lot more resonant.

Spinner’s Call: 

O I don’t know how similar the language is in the Japanese, but it’s a bit fun that Spinner’s phrasing of, “The grudge never fades,” is so similar to Dabi’s, “The past never dies.”  If one is looking for inspiring words to call for drastic anti-hero action, one could do a lot worse than Dabi (and Skeptic’s) immaculately scripted Todoroki Touya reveal.  Spinner also spent a lot of time around Re-Destro and the rest of the MLA, presumably including his own advisors, though, so I like to think he could have picked up some of that convincingly fiery language from them, too, even if he doesn’t think of himself as a good spokesperson.

O Spinner is damn well right when he says(/said) that, if heroes win, nothing will change.  And we know that’s true because Deku, Our Main Character Ladies and Gentlemen, just keeps goddamn telling people that he intends to put everything “back to normal.”  No one this arc has said a single word about changing anything that desperately needs to be changed, and of all the groups that might be dissuaded by hearing such a stance, this would be the one to try it on!  The one that isn’t composed entirely of villains and radical cultists!  These are the people most likely to just stop and listen if you tell them that you have a plan to address their grievances.

But Shouji doesn’t tell them that.  He tells them that they’ll set back progress, implicitly blaming them for whatever hate crimes heteromorphs suffer in the next thirty years; he doesn’t give them any suggestions for what they could be doing instead, or what heroes will do to respond to them; he just says they have to be the ones to stop.  But why should they stop, when horror stories like blood-cleansing are the current status quo?  How much worse could the Paranormal Liberation Front’s status quo really be?(2)

(That last question is important, by the way, because AFO was a shadowy urban legend until Kamino, so it’s asking a lot of these civilians, a great many of whom are implied to be rural, for them to have as good an understanding as the audience of what AFO’s new regime would be like.)

O Spinner being sprayed in pesticides impresses me because Horikoshi keeps coming up with ways to be creatively awful to heteromorphs that effortlessly outclass what I come up with for fanfic, and yet he expects me to buy this idea that heteromorphs being cool will eventually solve these problems and it’s fine if heroes and the government continue doing exactly zilch to help the process along.

The Turn: 

Having said aaaaaallllll this for three chapters running now, I think it’s very telling that the moment Spinner regurgitates a speech from a week ago, even just reheated rhetoric is enough to rile the crowd right back up again.  It would be great if we could read that as a sign that Shouji and Koda’s responses are completely failing to achieve the ends they want because they offer nothing concrete—it’s like the definition of showing up to denigrate everyone else’s plans while offering none of your own.  Surprise surprise, No One Liked That.

But then—after an extremely ominous transition featuring a gun—we get into the hospital scene.

--

(An Aside: The Gun: 

Regarding the gun, my initial understanding from the leaks and such was that it was the police resorting to sidearms, but now I don’t think so?  The way Officer Gori’s line of dialogue right before the page turn gets abruptly cut off/interrupted implies that this wasn’t something he was expecting.  My next guess would be, “Someone on the police side gets scared and takes the wrong action that escalates situation like this into the kinds of historical turning point slaughters that get taught in schools,” but the riot squad uniform seems to feature full gloves, so whereas the shooter’s gloves are fingerless.

Mic’s gloves are right, but why would Mic pull a gun here?  When have we ever even been shown him carrying one?  I can’t believe he’d even be licensed to carry, not in Japan.  And his lines at the end of the chapter, for all that he shows up in the hallway like a movie killer, suggests that he’s just guessing about why no one’s following Spinner, not deliberately obfuscating.

So who?  My next wild thought was, “Mustard?!” but the gloves are wrong for him, too.  He might have changed gloves if he got sprung from whatever facility he was in, of course, as all our returning villains have changed clothes, but also there’s no reason whatsoever for him to be present here, at least as far as plotlines he has any reason to care about personally go.

So…  I dunno.  We’ll see, I guess!  Not least because leaks are starting literally as I write the section RIP.)

--

As @codenamesazanka pointed out here, Spinner did not target the line of doctors and nurses.  Which makes it all the stranger that seeing those medical professionals is what snapped the crowd out of it.  Like, if the targeted area wasn’t on the other side of a Red Rover line of civilians anyway, who cares if they’re all standing there?  And here’s where I circle back to the Aoyama non-sequitur.

The pig-nosed guy draws to a halt when he sees the line of doctors, but what really stops him cold is some sort of flashback to Dr. Toad looking after an elderly patient.  And my overwhelming thought when I saw that panel was, “So even in the flashback that’s going to stop you from progressing, you can’t see yourself in the person being cared for; you have to see yourself in the person doing the work.”

Central Hospital is staffed with Super Mario character lookalikes, but you know who one of those lookalikes is?  The one who looks like Mario—that is, the one with a “human face.”  So why, in heaven’s name why, could pig-nosed guy not have visualized himself or someone like him—a heteromorph—being cared for and tended to by a non-heteromorph?  If the entire point is to remind an angry person who has let nuance fall by the wayside, someone whose pain has caused him to get sucked into an us-versus-them mindset, that there are good people on the other side of that divide, people who don’t hate pig-nose and his, why would the memory that brings him up short be one where a heteromorph is doing the labor while a non-heteromorph benefits?

It just makes me Real Tired, guys.

Spinner, Oh, Spinner: 

The young version of Spinner running around in his socks hurts me so much.  The shot of the desolate hallway behind him hurts me even more.  The underlining of his empty path, the empty place it leads to, is heartbreaking.  But I can’t believe that Horikoshi would let someone trying his best to be someone else’s hero fail like this, no matter how much All For One has tried to twist that desire.

Sorry, I just have nothing coherent or insightful to say about Spinner.  Not until this agonizing subplot resolves one way or the other.

(In light of leaks, I mostly have a lot of screaming and crying, and will try to finally muster up some actual Spinner Thoughts next time.  Beyond which we’ll see how things go after next next chapter.  *biting handkerchief in anxiety*)

Stray Notes: 

O I enjoy Aizawa’s extremely alarmed face when Shouji’s like, “Hey, put me on the hospital defense team.”

O The number one bit character hero I want dead: THIS Tartarus guard-looking, infinite goddamn capture tape-producing asshole: 

Fucking hell.  Take this guy out and the next uprising will be a breeze because the heroes will suddenly have to face their terminal shortage of restraining devices!

O  “Shouji must have gotten through to them.” = Since fucking when does this manga believe that words are enough?  I thought it was actions that mattered?  Oh, right, since we hit the endgame.  See also Mirio’s talking-the-talk bit.

---FOOTNOTES---

1:    I’d probably distinguish them by saying that saving is more active but also briefer; it’s All Might turning up in the nick of time and then flying off again once the crisis is passed.  Protecting is more about putting yourself between danger and those that are in danger, and then staying there no matter what.  To protect someone is to be there regardless of whether or not the danger is immediate.  Deku wants to “save” Shigaraki, not “protect” him.  The refugees at UA need to be “protected,” not “saved.”

2:    Insert quip here about how AFO is an inveterate city slicker who doesn’t even like the countryside.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: gun violence, hospitals, blood

A/N: besties, i-...just read the warnings (slight spoiler: the angst will be resolved)

Masterlist

Chapter 21

“How exciting is this! Last day of kindergarten today and then your seventh birthday party tomorrow!” you exclaimed, “My baby is growing up way too fast.”

You squeezed Jo tightly.

“Okay, I’m going to drop Jo off and then I’ll pick up the cake from the bakery, go grocery shopping, and get the decorations,” Spencer kissed you as he held up Jo’s backpack for her to slip her arms into.

“Don’t forget Mrs. Flynn’s gift. She had to put up with 20 rowdy kids for a whole year, the least we can do is give her some cookies and a gift card to Target,” you said.

“Got it,” Jo patted her backpack.

“Goodbye, my loves,” you gave both of them one last kiss before they exited the front door and you finished getting ready for work.

-

At the end of the day, Jo came marching out of the elementary school in the usual class line. You and Spencer came running up to her.

“There’s my big kindergarten graduate,” you bent down to hug her with Spencer following suit.

“I got a diploma,” she beamed, holding up the piece of paper with her name on it.

Josephine Y/L/N-Reid

Her officially updated birth certificate name.

“We need to frame this and put it up right next to Daddy’s PhDs,” you smiled.

“I think this occasion calls for a milkshake,” Spencer lifted up Jo.

“It most certainly does...and fries,” you agreed.

-

You had a row of picnic tables at the park all decorated with balloons, streamers, and dinosaur tablecloths. You and Spencer woke up extra early to make sure everything was ready for the time of the party.

You both had been repeatedly taking trips back and forth home to bring everything to the park that you needed. Jo’s friends from her class would be there as well as the BAU.

As people started to arrive, you handed out party hats to everyone. Derek attempted to sneak past you.

“Ah ah ah,” you held your arm out to stop him, “No hat, no entry.”

“Even Hotch is wearing one,” you pointed to Hotch sitting at a table with Jack, wearing a bright pink party hat.

“Fine. Gimme the green one,” Derek sighed.

Jo and her friends were having a blast. You ordered enough pizza to fill everyone up completely but luckily, the kids ran it off playing tag on the playground.

“Okay, cake everyone!” Spencer shouted to gather everyone around the central table as he began to light the candles.

Jo took the end seat with the biggest grin on her face and you stood behind her. Derek and Penelope had their phones out to record and take pictures.

Spencer picked the cake up and took a deep inhale, signaling that he was about to start singing, “Happy Birth-”

BANG. You didn’t even know what was happening. You quickly pulled Jo behind you, shielding her from whatever made that loud noise.

Then, you felt something warm seeping down your front. You looked down to see your white shirt quickly darkening into red.

Spencer dropped the cake on the ground, running over to you, “Y/N!”

You fell to the ground just as he caught you. You could hear the muffled sounds of screams, kids crying, and people running away.

“Hey, eyes on me! Eyes on me, okay? You’re gonna be just fine,” Spencer was grappling at your torso to find where all the blood was coming from.

“Where’s Jo?” you panickedly asked.

“Penelope has her. Hotch called an ambulance, it’s on its way, baby. Just stay with me,” he pleaded.

“Spence, it hurts too much. I’m sorry,” you cried.

“No, Y/N, please. Jo needs you. I need you. I can’t do this without you,” he sobbed.

“You’re the best dad ever, Spence. I currently have a mug being shipped to the house that says so,” you feebly attempted to laugh, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Spencer whispered as the ambulance pulled up with its sirens wailing.

As you were being loaded into the stretcher, you caught a glimpse of Jo crying into Penelope’s shoulder.

“Spence, stay with Jo,” you whispered.

“What? No. I’m coming with you,” he said.

“She’s really scared, Spence.”

“Y/N, this is not up for debate. You were just shot. I’m not leaving you. Penelope will bring her to the hospital waiting room,” Spencer insisted, getting into the ambulance.

Everything went dark after that.

-

Spencer was nervously bouncing his leg up and down, blankly staring at the hospital floor. Everything around him was a monotonous hum.

“Reid...Reid...Reid!” Derek snapped him out of his trance, shaking his shoulder.

“Penelope is outside with Jo now and she’ll bring her in in a second but we need to get you cleaned up first,” Derek said, guiding Spencer to the bathroom.

Spencer looked down at his clothes. Whatever emotional state Jo was in right now would definitely not be eased by seeing her Daddy covered in Mommy’s blood. Derek helped wipe all the blood off Spencer and then handed him a spare pair of sweats from his go bag.

“W-What happened?” was the first thing that Spencer said as they returned to the waiting room and Derek texted Penelope that it was all clear.

“Hotch and Rossi are at the scene trying to figure that out now. We think the unsub was actually aiming for Jo but Y/N blocked the bullet,” Derek stated.

“Oh god,” Spencer put his face in his palms until he heard a familiar crying growing louder.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Jo wailed.

Penelope was also teary-eyed but Spencer could tell she was trying her best to hold it together for Jo’s sake. She transferred Jo into Spencer’s arms. Spencer tucked the little girl into his chest.

“Is Mommy okay?” she sobbed.

Spencer looked up at Derek and Penelope before looking back down at his daughter, “I don’t know, baby, but the doctors are taking real good care of her.”

Jo continued to cry into Spencer's chest for about a half an hour until she lost all of her energy and fell asleep. Spencer looked down at his daughter’s puffy red eyes. How could he possibly give her any more bad news on her birthday? You had to be okay. You were supposed to be the perfect little family. This was supposed to be his happy ending.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” a surgeon called out.

“Right here,” Spencer spoke softly and slowly stood in order to not wake Jo up.

Derek and Penelope stood right beside him.

“Ms. Y/L/N suffered a bullet wound to the gut. However, the surgery went well and she is expected to make a full recovery,” the surgeon announced.

“Oh thank god,” Spencer let out a huge exhale that he didn’t even know he was holding.

“She has lost a lot of blood so she’s not awake yet but you are welcome to wait with her if you would like. She should be up within the hour,” the surgeon informed Spencer.

Spencer nodded his head emphatically.

“Garcia and I are going to head back to the BAU to confer with the rest of the team. Text us with any updates,” Derek patted Spencer on his back.

“Right this way,” the surgeon guided Spencer to a room down the hall.

There you laid in a hospital bed, still managing to look beautiful after nearly dying and a multiple hour surgery.

He took the seat beside you, still cradling Jo in his arms.

About 20 minutes later, Spencer’s eyes snapped up to meet yours after he heard a little movement coming from the bed.

You opened your mouth slightly to speak but Spencer beat you to it.

“Marry me.”

“Am I alive?” you closed your eyes again, blinking really hard, and then opening them to still see the same scene in front of you.

“Yes, Y/N, you are luckily very much alive and I don’t want to spend another second not being married to the love of my life. I stupidly let you go once and I am not going to let that happen ever again. You and Jo are my whole entire life, there's nothing more I could possibly want. So, I am asking you…”

Spencer grabbed your hand and slipped the ring off your index finger, then he knelt with Jo still asleep in his arms, clinging to his neck, “...if you will do me the greatest honor of spending the rest of our lives together. Y/N, will you marry me?

“Yes,” you cried as he slipped the ring back on to your index finger.

“I promise I’ll get you another ring as soon as we’re out of here,” Spencer said.

“Shut up and kiss me, Spence,” you cupped his cheeks, pulling him towards you until your lips connected.

“Mommy?” you heard a meek voice ask from between you both.

“Hi baby. I’m so sorry I scared you like that,” you said.

Jo untangled herself from Spencer and wrapped her arms around your neck.

“It’s okay, Mommy, as long as you are okay.”

A/N: i got multiple crying headaches while writing and editing this chapter