#collective agreement that its best she not get involved in it either way

[draxomoriatic]

She just want to have teatime…

[sturnsmia]

𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… when matt sees his best friend constantly suffering under her boyfriend’s mistreatment, he takes matters into his own hands.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: toxic and slightly abusive boyfriend, murder (in detail), knives, blood, if u don’t feel comfortable do not read!!

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: hi hi! i wanted to post something a little more spooky for halloween but i didn’t finish in time lol, sorry. i hope you guys like it! also send me requests for things to write or just to chat. i lovee responding to anons (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

it was late at night when you were at the triplets house with your friend madison. you guys had spent the night watching movies and catching up with each other after enduring a long week of work. unfortunately you had a whole lot to talk about considering your boyfriend, noah was starting to piss you off.

“i don’t even know what his problem is! one second he’s saying im the love of his life and then two minutes later he’s screaming at me for spending i didn’t do!” you explained to your friends while flailing your hands around in awkward gestures to express your frustration. “and that’s not even the worst part! he had the fucking nerve to grab my wrist when i tried to walk away from him! and it wasn’t a gentle touch it was like this.” you reached to your right and grabbed matt’s wrist before gripping it harshly, causing him to pull away. you whispered a little sorry and shot him a quick smile.

“what the hell! that’s not okay, why the fuck would he do that?” chris questioned with a mouth full of popcorn.

“ugh i have no idea its so stupid the way he’s acting.” you groaned, leaning your head back on the couch.

matt clenched his jaw at the thought of your boyfriend laying his hands on you. he never liked noah from the start, not that noah enjoyed his presence either. noah constantly complained that matt had feelings for you and that it was obvious to everyone. whenever he brought it up you defended your best friend, explaining that you and matt have known each other since the two of you were kids, and you’ve always hung around the triplets. regardless of your constant reassurances, noah never attempted to make amends with matt.

“honestly y/n, that’s so fucked for him to do, and you need to stand up for yourself and set boundaries! don’t let him push you around.” madison spoke from the other side of the couch beside nick, who nodded in agreement to her statement.

you sighed, thinking about the possibilities that could happen if you talked back to noah. he definitely would not take it lightly.

“maybe you should just break up with him.” matt spoke with nonchalance. your head snapped to look at the boy who just spoke utter nonsense. “you’re funny matthew.”

“i mean this isn’t the first time he’s done something shitty to you. it’s clearly hurting you physically and mentally, so why not just let him go?” matt shrugged turning towards you.

“because i love him, matt. just because he does a couple things i don’t like doesn’t mean we have to break up.” you spoke with slight annoyance in your tone. nick, chris, and madison exchanged awkward glances, avoiding getting involved.

matt sighed, connecting your hands together and rubbing it softly with his thumb. “i know, i didn’t mean it like that, i’m sorry. we all just want you to be happy.” chris nodded his head before shoving another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

nick stretches his arms dramatically before yawning. “okay it’s pretty late, we should get to bed. y/n i know you’re staying the night, madison do you wanna stay too?”

“i would but i have to get up early for a meeting tomorrow so i have to head home now.” madison said while collecting her purse from the ground. “i’ll miss you.” you frowned, pulling her in for a hug.

“y/n we’ll see each other again in like two days.” madison laughed as she hugged you, rubbing your back softly. “bye boys, i’ll see you guys later! love you!” she smiled, walking down the stairs and out the front door.

as you heard the front door slam shut, you and nick stood up from the couch and started walking towards the stairs before matt gently pulled your wrist back. nick continued walking up the stairs as you stopped.

you turn around, staring at his icy blue eyes. “yeah?” you asked softly. matt brushed a piece of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. “make sure that little idiot boyfriend of yours doesn’t touch you like that again or i’ll have to go pay him a visit, alright?”

you giggle softly at his statement considering he always jokes about putting noah in his place. “alright mr tough guy don’t go around hurting people now.” you murmured, pushing your finger to his chest. “goodnight matt” you said gently, a warm smile spreading across your face as he shooed you away to nick’s room.

“good night angel” matt replied back as you made your way up the stairs.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

the next day you woke up around 11am and ate breakfast with the triplets before returning to your own apartment. you twisted the doorknob to your front door open and quickly dumped your purse lazily on the floor before flopping down face first onto the couch. you laid there until you heard a notification chime and looked up to see your phone.

it was a text from noah telling you he was coming over because you had abandoned him last night for matt. you roll your eyes at his snide remark before tapping your fingers on your phone to reply a quick “okay”.

you got up from the couch and walked over to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit. you brushed out the small tangles in your hair and open the drawer to take out a tube of mascara and an eyelash curler. leaning over the counter towards the mirror, you brushed the mascara wand over your lashes. you swapped out the mascara for your space camp cherry flavored lip balm and swiped it across your lips. after putting everything back in the bathroom drawers you left the bathroom and went to your room searching for a comfortable outfit. you settled on navy blue sweatpants and a lacy white tank top.

as you finished changing you heard a loud knocks coming from the front door, alerting you that your boyfriend had arrived. you quickly walked to the front door and opened it to reveal noah looking slightly irritated when he saw you.

“hi baby!” you smile warmly at him and pull him in for a hug. noah wraps one arm around your shoulder and pats your back softly. you pull away after noticing he’s not acting normal. “is everything alright?”

“yeah i’m fine.” he responds dryly. your eyebrows furrow showing your confusion, noah notices and realizes your not satisfied with his answer. “you couldn’t have maybe put yourself together and looked a little nicer for me before i got here?”

the smile from your face drops immediately, turning into an fustrated and slightly embarrassed look. noah shut the door behind him and sat down at the table in your kitchen, waiting for you to move from the front door.

“are you being serious?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the door and avoiding eye contact. “what?” noah’s face twisted in slight annoyance at your sudden attitude. “you’re telling me that you’re in this “mood” all of a sudden that causes you not to give your girlfriend a hug or kiss when you see her? all because i don’t look pretty enough?” you say sternly, attempting to hide the hurt in your heart.

noah quickly stood up from his seated position, the wooden chair he once sat on tumbling to the floor with a loud bang. your eyes finally turned to him and see his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with fury. “now i don’t know what those sturniolo boys got into your head, but i’m sure not liking this bitchy attitude you got goin’ on.” noah sneered, shaking his head in disapproval.

you scoff at him, he always found a way to blame this on them. “this has nothing to do with them. you can’t say some bullshit to me and expect me not to say something back!” your tone starting to raise. “woah there! don’t mess with the tough girl here, all high and mighty!” noah said sarcastically, raising his arms up for dramatics.

“you’re so fucking immature!” you yell at him with tears starting to well in your eyes. the look in his eyes immediately made you regret your sudden outburst, your heart sunk to your stomach. noah slowly walked towards you. “what the hell did you just say to me?”. you swallowed hard and fidgeted with your fingers, out of instinct you turned to the front door and grabbed the handle. before you could open it, noah put his hand on your shoulder and harshly turned you around, pushing your back to the door.

“i asked you a goddamn question!” he spat, his grip remained tight on your shoulder as he kept you pinned against the door. tears started to fall from your eyes as you clenched your jaw and kept a stern look. “get off me.” you muttered. noah kept his eyes on you, his rough hands gripped even tighter on your bare shoulder. you pushed him back, causing him to release his grip. before he could say anything you turned away from him and raced out the front door.

you ran to your car and slammed the door shut. at this point the emotions you had hiden came crashing down as you drove through the neighborhoods. wiping your tears and sniffling at every red light, you drove as fast as you possibly could to the only faces you wanted to see.

after parking your car, you walked quickly to the front door slightly shivering from the breeze considering you didn’t get to grab a sweater before you left. you knocked loudly on the door impatiently waiting for someone to answer.

chris opened the door with a bright smile on his face before seeing your teary and red eyes. “hey, what’s going on?” he asked softly. you couldn’t even respond before you latched onto him for a hug as broken sobs escaped your throat. “oh no. hey shhh it’s okay don’t cry, don’t cry.” chris held you tight and stroked your hair gently before matt and nick walked down the stairs to see what had taken their brother so long to answer the door.

“y/n, sweetheart let’s go upstairs to the living room okay?” nick whispered softly. you looked up from chris’s chest to see nick and matt with worried expressions plastered on their face. nick took your hand and interlocked them before leading you up the stairs and onto the couch. he sat down next to you as you rested your head in his lap. matt and chris followed behind the two of you and took a seat beside nick.

“tell me what happened y/n, did you get hurt? do i need to kill someone?” nick asked, rubbing your shoulder. “it-it was noah” you choked out with a sniffle. “he came to see me and, he got upset with me because he said i didn’t look nice enough for him when he came over.” matt’s anger started to bubble up just hearing noah’s name. “i yelled back at him and told him he was being immature. and when i tried to leave but he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me against the door. i had to push him back before he finally let go.” you rambled, tears falling from your eyes.

matt’s jaw hardened after hearing what noah had done to you. he gave chris a hard stare before they both stood up and walked down the stairs without saying a word. “wha-where are they going?” you asked, sitting up and turning to nick. “don’t worry about it, let’s get you cozy and do something to get your mind off that brainless boyfriend of yours.” nick suggested with a smile, wrapping a fuzzy blanket around your shivering bare shoulders.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

matt’s gripped the steering wheel of his car so hard his knuckles were almost white. he couldn’t believe that your idiotic boyfriend would ever think it’s okay to lay his hands on a women, especially you. you always found a way to forgive noah for his mistakes because of your kind heart. the thoughts coursing through his mind made the drive to noah’s house a fast ride. he already knew the directions from previous occasions when you had asked matt to drop you off there.

“you don’t need me to come in do you?” chris asked as matt jumped out of the driver seat. he grabbed a small object out of the side door and looked up at his brother. “no, i’ll be fast.” matt responded slamming the door shut and walking up to your front door. he twisted the door knob and pushed it open using his shoulder. noah looked up from his phone and stood up from his spot on the couch, looking at matt.

“dude what the fuck?” noah sneered, looking confused at the loud noise coming from the front door. until he recognized the face that was staring back at him. “matthew sturniolo, what brings you here today?” his face twisted into a cocky smile.

“do you find pride in hurting your girlfriend?” matt said through gritted teeth. noah laughed from across the room “what’d she tell you now, that i’m abusing her? god she’s so full of lies.” matt slammed the front door shut before taking slow steps towards noah.

“i won’t ever understand how she fell in love with such a lowlife like you.” matt scolded, keeping intense eye contact with the boy in front of him.

“what? you jealous i get to fuck her instead of you? get over yourself, she’s mine.” noah teased, a grin present on his face. matt scoffed and reached into his pocket, he was sick and tired of the way your boyfriend treated you like an object and constantly put you through so much pain.

“i never liked you from the start. i always knew you would be a shitty boyfriend. but y/n always finds a way to see the good in people, even the most insufferable people like you. and i won’t let you take advantage of that.” matt fumed, pulling his hand out from his denim pocket. noah’s eyes widened at the pocket knife in matt’s hand. he stepped back but was met with a wall behind him, he had nowhere to run.

“woah man let’s just talk this out i can-“ matt didn’t let him finish talking before piercing his stomach with his knife. noah let out weak groans before matt retracted his hand, releasing the blade from his lower abdomen. in a swift motion matt struck him again and again, watching the knife go through his chest. over and over and over again.

noah’s body quickly fell limp underneath him. matt crouched down, using the carpet to wipe the blood off his pocket knife before clicking it shut and placing it back into his pocket. matt stood back up looking down at the lifeless body beneath him, a smirk creeping on his face.

“she’s always been mine.”

xoxo, mia ♡

[whatanoof]

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining, 

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44  @acciosiriusblack  @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten​ 

[fandom-monium]

fuck shit i loved unrivaled but can we please get jealous reader? like maybe everyones on a mission and spencer has to flirt with someone?? the target??? thank you keep doing what you do!! <3

Established Relationship Rivalry

Summary: In which you really don't like Spencer talking to other girls... or assassins. "Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Jealous!Reader, companion piece to Unrivaled but not a sequel, pining (?), fluff and angst(?), established relationships RIVALRY, more reader-centric sorry, ft. Entropy Cat Adams that bitch (derogatory), a darker side of Mysterious!Reader comes to light

⏤

You sit at the bar a few seats down from JJ, watching Spencer at the corner of your eye as he puts on a show of settling into the velvet booth. 

The restaurant is fancy, the kind you take your significant other, or in this case, invite your ‘high end’ date to gain their trust, lure them in. Your vision swims at its dark red scheme and slightly dim lights, but it’s not too much that you don’t notice how good Spencer looks in his new suit, something he’s recently taken up. The blazer’s dark against his light skin, his purple tie is in a lopsided knot, and he even combed his hair a little. 

You sigh. If only you weren’t on the job, you’d stare as much as you’d want. It seems you’re not the only one who’s noticed either, surrounding patrons stealing glances at Spencer despite most of them with company.

You decide suits might be your favorite on him. It’s definitely up there.

But as the wine glass threatens to crack between your fingers, you weigh the possibility that maybe⏤just maybe⏤you should reel in your emotions, because you might actually get yourself kicked off the operation.

Now, you’re not jealous. Seriously.

This isn’t jealousy. Spencer and you aren’t even like that. Like, yeah you care about each other (more than what would be considered platonic), but you’re not together together, and there’s certainly not this weird, unspoken agreement that neither of you are to be ‘involved’ with others. Because that would imply you have feelings. More specifically, non-platonic feelings for someone you’re just not ready to admit to.

Then Catherine Adams enters the arena.

Her strides are short, almost dainty, and if you were a less experienced profiler you’d think that she was a normal woman, shy and awkward as any first date would be.

But you know each footstep is calculated, controlled. A perfected facade built on years of practice.

Other than respecting her abilities, you don’t know how to feel about her. From what little you guys could gather from her file, she is little… psycho.

So no, you’re not jealous. 

You’re not jealous when she exchanges shy smiles with Spencer. 

You’re not jealous when she invades his personal bubble. Or when she gropes him for his gun.

No, this isn’t jealousy that burns in your stomach. Oh no no no.

This is fury, your eyes stinging with barely contained rage. And as you imagine the eight different ways you could amputate Adam’s hands with a butterknife (there’s plenty within arms length, you could reach it), it takes Hotch’s stern voice for you to lower it to a simmer.

“(Your Name), calm down,” he crackles into your earpiece.

Hoping to dissuade from yourself, you cover a sickly sweet smile behind your glass, your canines glinting in the light. “Hotch, please, I’m the epitome of calm and collected.”

“We can literally see your teeth grinding on cams, and if we can see it, Cat Adam’s will too⏤”

You huff.

“Now calm down. You look more like a disgruntled divorcee than a satisfied customer.”

Okay, harsh. You almost reply indignantly before you catch JJ’s gaze, her blue eyes warm with enough understanding that it makes your shoulders relax. As much as you appreciate her, you’re supposed to be strangers in this restaurant. She can’t even mouth to you without giving you both away, blowing your covers⏤

“...tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

⏤cover. Welp. There goes that plan.

Immediately you lower your gaze to the rim of your glass, keeping the bitch in your peripheral as JJ clenches her jaw and slides off her stool, trudging off to the kitchen. It’s a chess match; Cat picks each of you off as if you’re pawns, sacrificial pieces, bait, until the restaurant is clear and Morgan, Lewis, and you remain. Gun raised, you try not to sneer as Lewis cuffs the Bomber’s hands behind her back, leading her and the civilians outside. 

“Guess we’re right back where we started. You and me with a gun,” Adams huffs, her tone betraying nothing. Your anger spikes as she grips Reid like a human shield. “Although, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you.” She stares across the room at Morgan…and you.

She’s looking directly at you.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

Adams snorts, adjusting Reid in front of her, “No, I guess not. Last time we met was years ago, and you were a whole other person at the time. I barely even recognized you.” Her eyes trail over your figure, and your skin crawls as her lips stretch into a cruel smile. A threat. “But you never forget your first, right?”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

In the blink of an eye, you pull the hammer of your firearm, its click echoing through the empty restaurant louder than it should have. Your lips pull back in a snarl, “Shut your mouth, before I do it for you.” 

Her response: a cheshire grin in return.

Huh. You hadn’t used that tone in what feels like forever, your voice laced with the promise of silence and death. It doesn’t feel as foreign as you hoped, and the realization wrenches your gut as you pretend not to notice Reid and Morgan’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes full of questions. Questions you really don’t want to answer. Not now.

Preferably not ever.

So you redirect everyone’s attention back to the situation at hand. It takes little prompting, considering Adams is holding a gun to Reid’s face, and it’s not long when Morgan convinces her to surrender. Like a shadow, you trail behind Morgan as Reid hauls her to the prison transport, your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

As Reid steps away, as he quietly settles next to you, before Morgan shuts the truck’s double doors Adams catches your eye. Her eyes glisten as her body shudders from hiccups. But she grins at you, wide enough to make your stomach squirm.

You flip her the bird in return.  

For the rest of the night you act natural, keeping your head down. You don’t leave right away, because nothing screams ‘something’s wrong’ than ditching everyone, so you passively agree to check on Garcia despite your grim mood. But at the sight of her, inebriated as she aggressively tells everyone how she loves them⏤loves you⏤you can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across your face (mostly because she’s pinching your cheeks). 

Even if she doesn’t mean to, Garcia manages to brighten your day, and you love her more for that.

After bidding your farewells (swallowing when Morgan shoots you a look that says, ‘this isn’t over’), you walk side by side with Reid, trudging through the tense atmosphere until you realize with a tight chest: he escorted you to your car. For a moment, you both stand at the driver’s side door, a beat of silence passing as you shakily pull out your keys. 

His hands, stuffed in his pockets, clench and unclench as his jaw sets. He’s yet to look you in the eye but you know, and for once you pray⏤to the universe, to whatever deities are out there, to Karma⏤that he’ll let this go, drop the subject. Hopefully never bring it up.

But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s your… friend. He’s confused and concerned and he wants to help some way, somehow.

So as you unlock your car, as his lips part, you don’t give him the chance, shoving away your dread. 

“You wanna get dinner?” It comes rushed, fear trickling into your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice. (He does.)

Spencer blinks at you, his mouth agape. “What?”

“It’s just,” You lick your lips, tugging thick air into your lungs as your body screams to run. Your eyes dart from his, looking at the ground, your car, the scuffs on your shoes, and you hate yourself, knowing Spencer notices all of it. “It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to eat at that expensive restaurant, ya know? It was paid for too.”

Please, don’t ask. Please, don’t ask. 

“...That’s true.” His tone is scarily neutral. 

Looking up, you’re taken aback as he turns away to round the hood of your car to the passenger side door. “What do you think of thai for tonight?” 

You stammer a response, something along the lines of ‘uh⏤yeah, sounds good’ as you clamber into the car after him, fumbling to insert your key into the ignition. Your nerves only worsen by the second as you drive off into the dark, the only sounds coming from the rev of the engine and your heart thundering in your ears. Up ahead the traffic light changes, slowing you to a stop. You glance at Spencer, his purple tie red from the light, his side profile softly outlined in its harsh glow. He remains deathly quiet.

The silent treatment, huh. If he thinks reverse psychology is going to work on you...

He’d be absolutely right. His silence is deafening.

You turn to him, “Spencer⏤”

“You don’t have to.” Your breath catches in your throat, his lips parting and closing as he stumbles for the right words, “I mean, not right now. I-I know this isn’t the best time, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about it. So whenever you’re ready, I⏤” He clears his throat, twisting in his seat and meeting your eyes. His eyes gleam, earnest even in the dark. 

“We’ll be here for you.”

You can’t help gawking at him. Because Spencer’s eyes are inquisitive and kind⏤always have been⏤but right now they’re trained on you, and your face burns as your heart swells. You’re suffocating.

Because you want to tell him⏤all of them.

But fear clutches your heart.

White-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, you face the road again, blinking through unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Spencer nods, relaxing back into his seat. You’re relieved your answer’s enough for now.

The light turns green and you speed off. The grim night turns a little brighter as you fall back into routine with Spencer, the tension slowly lifting, your stomach, once filled with lead, now stuffed with thai food.

You’ll deal with Cat Adams later. She’s behind bars, so you doubt it’ll be anytime soon. You laugh as Spencer curses, soiling another pair of chopsticks when they hit the floor. Yes, you’ll deal with her when you’re ready.

That is, until you’re stopped by another red light.

⏤

AN: no cap i hesitated posting this because i realized after finishing its less of a Spencer Reid x Reader and more a reader-centric. i wanted to establish that reader has a whole backstory sorryyyy i hope yall like it anyway :)))

if you didnt notice, unless stated otherwise almost all my oneshots and FtH are tied together by Mysterious!Reader. yall dont have to but if you read them it helps understand reader better??

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

-----

It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya AU: Half a Soul by crisisdparity

Max raised an eyebrow at what his classmate was saying. “You want me to barter my ‘soul’ for ‘safekeeping’?” “Well… basically,” Juleka admitted. “I must admit this is a novel approach. Usually when I come across ‘sell your soul’ scams, they’re promising things like wealth, power, intellect, or greater sexual endowments. This is the first I have heard of someone wanting my ‘soul’ for the purpose of keeping it ‘safe’. I feel a need to ask why.” “Yeah, those things were probably scams, just not in the way you thought… Basically, there’s a… demon… that has targeted our class with the intent to take their souls through bargain or trickery and make them into her slaves. My… benefactor… and I want to stop her.” “And you concluded that the best way to prevent her from getting our ‘souls’ was if you already had them.” “In a nutshell.” “Such an action would be in character with what I have observed of you in the past, presuming your portrayal of the situation is accurate. However, I shall first need proof that souls exist and can be taken to even consider this agreement possible. If you can provide such proof, I shall of course have further questions on the mechanics behind such a thing.” “Yeah, we figured. You doubt the existence of souls, which makes it that much harder to trick you out of yours. The problem is the demon we’re worried about is apparently very good at pushing people’s buttons without getting caught and we don’t have the time to do this subtly. So… we’ve prepared a demonstration if you can promise to keep everything discreet.” “Very well, let me get Markov yo record this for my own records and review.” “I hope you understand that this information is very… sensitive.” “I will instruct Markov to engage ‘client confidentiality’ protocols. No one but us will know what transpires here.” —— Alya tried not to squirm as Max seemed to dissect her entire explanation with his gaze. “You’re claiming that Marinette managed to unknowingly cause a literal demon to pull a Heel-Face Turn simply by being a good friend?” “Er…” Alya fidgeted. “Yes?” Max nodded. “I find this imminently plausible.” “You do?” “Of course. Marinette is one of the friendliest people I know. If anyone could redeem a literal demon of Jell through the power of friendship, it would be her.” “So you agree to, Er, loan us your soul for safekeeping until it is safe for us to return it?” “If you can provide sufficient evidence for the existence of a soul and your ability to collect it, I will agree to a 24-hour trial basis with Markov monitoring me. If Markov detects any significant negative deviation in my demeanor by the time my soul is returned at the end of this agreed timeframe, the deal is off. If this is completed successfully, we will discuss further terms at that time.” “That’s my cue,” Juleka said. “Alya, I agree to relinquish my soul to you in exchange for its return in an unaltered state ten seconds later.” “Agreed,” Alya accepted as she plunged her hand into Juleka’s chest and withdrew an orb the size of a billiard ball that swirled with purples, indigos, and a streak of solid brilliant golden light. “Fascinating.” Alya then began tickling it. “Hey!” Juleka protested as she fought against the giggles this action induced. “S-stop that!” “Nope! Mine for five more seconds!” Five seconds later, after much uncontrollable laughter on Juleka’s part, Alya put her soul back and turned to Max. “Is that proof enough?” “While I still have my doubts, it is good enough for now. I will agree to you taking custody of my soul for precisely 24-hours after which it will be returned. I will make no other conditions and instead judge your intentions - as recorded and analyzed by Markov - by what you do with such open-ended permissions. If Markov judges that I am in any way compromised by your possession of my soul, the it shall be Markov who decides whether to accept or reject any further deals between me or any other demon.” “Wait, would that even work?” Juleka asked. “I’m honestly not sure,” Alya admitted. “I don’t think anyone downstairs

ever considered third party involvement in soul deals before… I guess we’ll find out together?” “I suppose in the interest of mutual discovery we must proceed as-is.” “Guess so,” Alya said as she stuck her hand into Max’s chest and tugged. And tugged. And tugged some more. All to no effect. “What seems to be the matter?” “Your soul is… stuck,” Alya finished lamely before withdrawing her hand from Max’s chest in defeat. “Stuck.” “Forgive me,” Juleka interjected, “but how does a soul get ‘stuck’?” “It doesn’t! Shouldn’t! It’s like… like half his soul just isn’t there!” “You are saying that you can’t take my soul because half of it is already gone? That makes no sense.” “No, it’s… You can’t just ‘take’ someone’s soul. Their soul is literally them in basically every way that counts. A person’s soul is bound to them as strongly as anything can be bound to anything. To take it, you either have to get the person to voluntarily relinquish that bond (whether they realize it or not) or you have to get them to commit a sin that is contrary to their sense of self to ‘loosen’ the bond (it helps if the sin is aligned to your demonic essence). It can actually get pretty nuanced because virtuous people are harder to convince to sin, while habitual sinners need a comparatively bigger sin to ‘knock their soul loose’. Having just half your soul means that the rest is anchored somewhere else, which means that I would need to loosen THAT bond as well before it will go anywhere!” “What I’m hearing is that our… other demon… isn’t going to have any more luck taking Max’s soul that we are.” “Well, yeah, but I just don’t understand!” Alya threw her hands in the air. “I mean, I’ve heard of this kind of thing, but it’s so rare it’s like an infernal urban legend! Sure you get artists ‘putting their soul into their work’ all the time, but that’s like a sliver at most! Something barely missed and easily restored in a week tops with a halfway decently healthy lifestyle! The number of people who can fully dedicate that much of their soul to ANYTHING are almost unheard of, and the side effects would have been debilitating! Forget the effort you put into your video games, this would have had to be on the level of a magnum opus the likes of which could never be repeated in your lifetime and involving an effort that would have nearly killed you!” “Max was hospitalized from acute exhaustion after completing my construction and programming,” Markov supplied. “He was placed on three months of required bed rest and fluids before he was declared fit to return to school and was on a strict enforced sleep and rest schedule for a year before doctors proclaimed him fully recovered.” Alya, Juleka, and Max all blinked. “I recall that. I remember feeling like it had all been worth it because you were completed.” “I too am grateful to have been completed.” “Yeah,” Alya admitted after a moment, “that would probably do it.”

-

RIpp nice job!

[lesbian-deadpool]

Roses In A Storm

Part Three: What A Time To Be Alive

Prelude | Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 5,681

Warnings: Talks of alcoholism and recovery, family issues, Red-Skull (hes’s a Nazi, that’s a warning in its own lmao), heights, light angst, talks of self deprecation/hate, explosions, talks of abuse/violence/murder/death, space stuff, I thin that may just be it.

Request: Yes. Many times.

Summary: The end of the journey.

A/N: Welcome to the end of this story! I really hope you liked this fucked up ride. If you want someone to thank for making me writhe this fic, then you best go bother @missmonsters2​ lol! Hope this is what you wanted wifey!

Ko-Fi

(Not My GIF)

***

That's all it takes.

A few words from Tony Stark and you're on the right path again.

Well...

As right as it can be.

The past few months had been long and gruelling.

There were times, too many than you wanted to admit, where you just wanted to give up. But you never did. And that was largely thanks to Tony and his family.

You would colour or play adventure with Morgan, cook with Pepper and Tony. Helped where you could with Tony and his inventions, but mainly you would just watch him, letting him distract you as he worked away, while you two conversed. You even became a "stand-in Assistant" when Pepper was rushed with mass amounts of work.

Whenever you were craving alcohol, Tony would always say the same thing:

"Sorry, Strange's orders."

"Since when did you take anyone's orders?"

"Since we could get Natasha back."

He was a real bastard, sometimes.

"Have you seen your parents yet?" he had asked, a little over a month into your recovery.

In your silence, Tony knew your answer.

"It's been seven months, Y/N-"

"I know how long it's been," you snapped. You rubbed at your forehead with a frustrated sigh. Trying to fight off the spinning in your head, "I can't see them like this, Tony. They were so proud of me and everything I've done- Did. Everything I did," you clarified, "And If I go to them now. What are they going to see? An alcoholic failure, who quit their job, is now a fucking hitman. And is in love with a woman- who is, apparently, inside of a fucking stone! What are they gonna say to that? Huh?"

"They still love you, Y/N."

You had tears in your eyes as you shook your head. He was right, you knew that, but you still couldn't see them. You knew you wouldn't be able to bear it if they saw you like this.

"Please, Y/N. Go home. See them. Tell them you love them," Tony practically begged you, "Trust me. You only get so long with them. You should know that you've lost people you love, too."

"I know..." you said weakly.

And that was the end of that conversation.

Yeah.

He really was a bastard, sometimes.

But now, five and a half months later, you felt better.

You felt so much better.

And you had finally seen your parents.

For the first time, in a year.

Your interaction with them had been just as Tony had said it would be. They welcomed you with open arms. Telling you how much they loved you. How proud of you they still were. They told you there was no reason for you to apologise.

Fuck Tony Stark and how right he was.

That bastard.

***

You felt like a stranger walking through these halls, but familiar to the surroundings at the same time. Almost like you were walking the halls of your old school.

It was... eerie?

Was that even the best term to use, to describe this feeling? You didn't know. But it felt right.

Agents, visitors, and trainees all the like, regarded you as you walked. All knew of who you were. Most knew what had happened the last time you had been at HQ, from either witnessing it themselves or through the grape-vine.

But it was their own fault when they jumped out of their skin, as you kicked open the door of your destination, as they should have known you hadn't lost your spunk.

"Right! Listen up, motherfuckers!" you yelled, making the people inside the room snapped their attention to you, shock rippling throughout their bodies, as you slammed the door shoot behind you. "I'm coming back to work!"

You could tell Fury was about to say something, from where he sat at the top of the table, in between Tony and Strange. With Maria stood to the side behind her boss. Her eyebrows raised at you, and a small -almost unnoticeable- smile on her face.

"Don't you dare, I'm not done yet!" You pointed at Fury, who leaned back in his seat and regarded you, allowing you to carry on with what you were saying. "I'm coming back, but I have some conditions-!"

"'Conditions'?" he asked.

"Yes. Conditions. Firstly, this is a one-time thing. I'm not taking my job back. I don't work for you. I'm working with you. For. This. Mission. Only. Okay?" No objections. You nodded your head once. "Secondly. I will do as you say, but I have a say on who is involved in this mission. If I don't want them here. They don't get to be. Because if I have to look at Clint's face- Even though I do know that Nat wasn't really his fault. I'm still gonna rip his throat out-"

"Now, Y/N. You have no-"

"Ah- Ah- Ah," You cut Fury off. "I'm still not done yet. Coming off of my second point. Wade gets to be there when I say so."

"Now that's definitely not happening!"

"I agree with Fury, Y/N. That is total insanity," Strange voiced up.

"Well, I guess that's tough tittys for you guys. Because those are my conditions. If you don't like it, then that's your problem."

Fury was about to speak when Tony cut him off.

"Just give 'em what they want. It's not like you were gonna involve anyone else. And so what if this Wade guy joins? It's another pair of hands."

"You don't know him."

"You'd like him," you said.

“Oh, now I want him to join more. If I'd like him, and these guys can't stand him."

"I agree with Stark, no matter how much it pains me," Maria spoke, gaining everyone's attention.

"Maria?" Fury asked almost, shocked, "You know what Wilson is like. You've read his files."

"I have." She nodded. "And although he is unorthodox, as the best way to put it... he gets things done. And if he cares for Y/N as much as he said he does. He will do well in helping us."

"Thank you, Maria!"

"Jesus Christ," Fury sighed.

"Wait," Tony said, "Who is Wade to you?"

You shrugged. "He's my best friend. Well, one of them."

"But I'm your best friend!"

"You're one of them!"

"Are you best friend cheating on me?!"

"Can we not do this here?" you asked him, knowing that when you arrived back at the cabin, you were in for a mass amount of questions, and would be forced to say who your best-best friend was.

You suddenly never wanted to leave the small, closed off, conference room.

"Fine," he huffed.

"Fury?" you asked. Cocky smile on your face. Knowing he was at a crossroads, and one direction was blocked.

"Okay," he said slowly.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Nick."

"Anyway..." Strange began, "Now that we've got everything settled-"

"I missed the whole meeting?" you pointed out.

"-I should be taking my leave now."

"Yeah, send me home too, Dumbledore," Tony "asked", standing up, too.

"Y/N. I'll be in touch." And with that, he and Tony walked through separate portals.

"Wow. So, I've gotta make my own way home? Nice."

Walking over to the door, you spoke your goodbyes. Pausing, only when you were out of the door to say one last condition, "Oh, and also. I get paid three times of what my yearly salary was."

"For this one mission?"

"Yes. For this journey, as Mr Wizardly would put it."

With his silence, was his agreement.

"Bye!" You took your exit.

***

"Where are we going, now?" you asked, strutting into the office at Tony's cabin. Which had become your "base of operations" so to say. Knoticing that the whole team was there.

Tony, Stephen, Fury, Wade, and Maria. Who usually stayed behind, being everyone's eyes and ears.

This must be an essential part of the mission.

You had spent the last three months under Strange's order. You, Tony, and hell even Fury running around collecting all out the things he needed. Mainly books. Sometimes Wade accompanied you on your missions. Keeping things more than entertaining.

"Space."

"The final frontier," you whispered in a far off voice, the same look in your eyes. Tony, laughing at your overdramatics. "But seriously," you continued, words now sober from their previous humour, "Is this it? Are we going to finish this?"

"With any luck," Tony nodded.

"Our ride will be here soon," Fury informed you.

"Our ride?"

"The walking talking build a bear."

"That would be so cool to have," Wade gushed, gaining some weird looks in return.

"The raccoon?" you asked, but still smiling at your scarred friend.

"I believe his name was 'Rocket'."

"Rocket The Raccoon," you said, "D' ya think he got inspiration from The Beatles song 'Rocky Raccoon'?"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" Maria asked not expecting a reply. But she did smile back at you when you threw her one.

Before anyone could say another word, a low rumbling shook the ground slightly, the sound of jets filling the air.

And that was everyone's queue to run out of the cabin, only to see the spaceship you assumed belonged to the raccoon and his crew, floating above the large lake next to Tony's property. The hatch slowly coming down to rest on the docks.

"Hey, losers!" The rough voiced raccoon called out, from the end of the ship, beginning to descend the hatch.

"Is that any way to talk to your friends?!" you called over.

"I don't know you! And yes!"

"Speaking of your friends, where are they?" you asked curiously, once he got close.

"I ditched em at a bar," Rocket shrugged. "They'll be fine. It's my ship anyway."

Everyone laughed at the exchange, soon rushing back inside to grab everything they needed, Tony saying bye to his family, before you all boarded the aircraft.

***

"Oh, yeah. He was in love with death."

Somehow, the conversation had spurred onto the subject of the purple titan, you loathed with your entire being.

"I'm sorry," you began, "What?"

"Thanos. He "killed" half of the universe to impress death," Wade explained.

"Oh! So that's the real reason he did it!" you yelled, beginning your rant, "He made up this whole bullshit story about overpopulation or something. Instead of just saying, "I'm doing this to impress a girl"! Wow. Good to know toxic masculinity exists in space too."

Thankfully the conversation soon changed to the mission back at hand, with small amounts of banter being thrown around, that always followed you guys around.

"Why couldn't you have just teleported us there?" you asked Strange, who was standing in front of you, a little off to the side, in the now space-born ship.

"Because I can only teleport on the same planet that I am on."

You paused, "Makes sense..." And then. "But, we're in space. Should that mean you're able to travel anywhere, then?

"That's not how it works."

"Sound's like bullshit, but okay."

Before Strange could voice his retort, Rocket spoke from the pilot's seat.

"Leave the idiot be. What's the worse that's happening here? You're having a day-trip, boo-hoo."

"Yeah. A "day-trip". To the place where the love of my life threw herself off of a cliff. Sacrificing herself for half of the universe. Great fucking day-trip."

"Okay, yeah. That's less good," he said.

***

The planet was truly beautiful, in a desolate way. Covered wholly in sand, and lakes. Everything taking on a purple hue from the sky and clouds surrounding it. A truly gigantic mountain stood strong before you. You didn't want to admit it, but you were considerably intimidated by the large mass. And to top it all off, there was a permanent solar-eclipsed sun sitting in the sky.

You would have loved experiencing a whole new planet. Even a seemingly empty one.

If you didn't hate this place that is.

Also, the fact that you had to. Climb. The Fucking. Mountain.

If someone would have told you there would be this much exercise involved, you would have convinced Colossus to come, just to carry you up there.

You arrived, panting, at the top of the mountain. Only to be greeted by a creepy floating man, with a red skull for a head.

Fury knew him. Quickly telling you that his name was Red-Skull -surprising- and that he was one of the most notorious Nazis from WWII.

Yep.

You instantly despised him.

He told you each the name of one of your parents, then continued on with an obviously well-rehearsed speech about the Soul Stone, and yada, yada, yada.

Tony brushing past him, saying "We're not interested in what you're selling, shitty evil Ghostrider." With you all trailing after him, smiles on your faces.

And you never heard another pep from the self-proclaimed, "Guardian Of The Stone".

"Well, spank me and call me "daddy"!" Wade called, peering over the ledge of the cliff. "That's a long way down."

You joined him in looking over the edge. Your heart instantly dropping into your stomach.

You couldn't even see the bottom.

You can't imagine how terrified Natasha must have been dangling off of this thing. Only to kick herself off, and into the cloudy abyss.

"Fuck," was all you could breathe.

You only just noticed Tony standing beside you, when he asked FRIDAY to scan the height fo the cliff. Her voice coming out through his suit, so that everyone could hear.

"The cliff's height is approximately three thousand six hundred and ninety point nine hundred and forty-five feet, boss."

"Jesus Christ," you uttered, moving away from the edge, palm resting on your forehead. As thoughts of Natasha falling all that way down filled your mind.

You gave yourself a few moments to breath through your incoming panic attack. Luckily you were unable to see the worried, yet understanding glances everyone was throwing you, behind your closed eyes.

"So... how does this shit work?" you then asked, wanting to hurry with all of this.

You just wanted to get your girl back.

"Y/N," Strange said, beginning to get irritated by you already, "We literally talked about this a few weeks ago."

"Yeah? And I've slept since then," you remarked back.

***

After strang had done whatever the fuck he had done with his magic. You watched in complete awe, as the portal to the Soul World opened up.

But it wasn't any "normal" portal.

The eclipsed sun slowly started to be revealed, only this time if you looked at it, it didn't burn your eyes. You only saw what could be best described as an orange-yellow coloured black hole.

That was the fucking portal.

"Oh." You swallowed, turning to face Strange, "How the hell do we get up there?"

"We already are."

"What-?" you asked confused until you looked over your shoulder at your surroundings. Everything was bare and coated in a warm light, not even an inch of water below your feet. "What the fuck?!"

"Welcome to the soul world."

You were still eternally shocked as Tony began to speak.

"So. So, how does this work?"

"The Soul World only allows "visitation" to the last to be sacrificed. All we need to do is find her, and pull her out."

"Seems simple enough," Wade said, hands on his hips as he looked around, "You think I can get some grub in this place?"

"Don't be an idiot, Wilson," Fury told him, "Now let's go find our girl."

It didn't take long. Only a few minutes of walking until you spotted the structure upfront.

Quickening your pace, you walked up to what seemed to be an open planned coffee shop. Open planned with the outside. And not just any coffee shop. It was the one you and Natasha used to frequent often.

With a red-head, back turned to you, sitting at your usual table.

"Natasha?" you asked voice close to a whisper, the silence surrounding the world you were in amplifying your volume, ensuring she could hear you.

Red-blonde hair swished over shoulder, as Natasha hastily turned to see you.

"Y/N?" she asked you, voice identical to how yours was. The Russian didn't wait for your answer, the chair sloshing through the water, as she sprinted over to you. Throwing herself into your arms.

It was like a dam broke. The moment she touched you, tears poured down your face, like rivers. You held her close to your body, head buried into her soft, wavy hair.

Natasha was sobbing into your shoulder. Hugging you tightly enough for it to hurt.

You finally had her in your arms, just like you had dreamt of for over a year. Ever since you came back.

And yet, all you could think of was how disappointed in yourself you were.

You didn't deserve her. After all of the shit, you had done while she was gone. All of the mercenary jobs, the violence, the drinking and drugs. The hate that settled in your stomach, which caused you to lash out at the world and people who dared to cross you.

Everything.

She deserved so much better.

However, all you could do was pull her closer, and repeat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," into her bright auburn locks.

"What are you sorry for."

"I." You swallowed your tears, looking into Natasha's wet emerald eyes. "I've done awful things while you were gone, Natasha. I became someone awful."

"Hey," Wade said behind you, slightly insulted. Which you ignored.

"I killed people. Some in cold blood. And all because they said bad things about you. I was lost. And you don't deserve that."

Natasha placed her hands on your wet cheeks, yours staying on her waist, knowing what you were about to say.

"You should find someone who deserves to be with you."

"You do deserve me," she begged you to understand, "I don't want anyone else but you! If there's anyone who doesn't deserve the other, it's me."

"Don't say that."

"Then don't say you don't deserve me. I only want you," she repeated, to get it through your head, "Only you. No one else. I don't care what you've done, or who you were while I was gone. You're still you. Right now, you're you. And that's all I want. It's all I need. You."

You sniffled harshly, realising how stupid you were with a shake of your head.

"I love you," you confessed, "I'm so in love with you, Natasha. It's crazy."

"Then let's be crazy together."

That was the last thing either of you said before she helped guide your lips to hers.

Finally sharing your first kiss.

At long last.

There wasn't the stereotypical fireworks that everyone spoke about when your lips met.

Only warmth.

Kissing Natasha didn't feel like an explosion. It felt like coming home after a long day. Being welcomed with the warm glow of a fire, and a spiced drink warming up your chest.

That's what kissing Natasha felt like.

Heaven.

Home.

You pulled back to the sounds of sniffles.

Eyebrows furrowed, you both looked over to the men behind you. Never once moving away from the other.

They were crying.

All of them.

Even Wade was under his mask.

"Are you guys crying?" you asked with a smile.

"No." Tony nodded, telling you that his words were false.

Strange wiped at the wetness under his eyes, while Wade openly sobbed, his shoulders shaking, pulling one of his guns to his chest as a form of comfort. Rocket was even using his tail to wipe at his eyes, turning away from you all.

"Even you fury?"

"I'm not crying," the Director, said with a slight wave in his voice.

"Really? Because I think that you are. Don't you, Natasha?"

The red-head nodded at you in confirmation.

"I'm not." Was all Fury said before he grabbed his eye patch and moved it to cover his leaking eye. "See."

Natasha let out a wet laugh, rushing over to bring Tony and Fury into a shared hug. All of them letting out a few more tears at the reunion.

Her knees splashing in the water as she pulled the still crying fur-ball into her arms.

Then going over to greet Strange with a hug of his own. And finally giving Wade the same treatment.

"I'm Wade," he introduced himself when she pulled back, "I'm Y/N's best, best friend. Because I'm better than the billionaire Sherlock over there."

"Is that so?" she chuckled.

"It absolutely is not!" Tony yelled.

Natasha shook her head with a smile, making her way over to you, and tucking herself into your side. Her head coming to rest on your shoulder, as she watched two of your best friends bicker at who was your "best, best friend".

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," you apologised.

"You came. And that's all that matters."

"C'mon guys," Tony said, his fingers now wiping under his eyes, "Don't make us cry again."

"I didn't stop," Wade informed you all, raising his hand.

You all chuckled at the man.

Before you decided you wanted out. You wanted to take your girl home.

"Right, now how do we get out of here?"

"We already are," Strange told you.

Looking around, you saw that you were now standing on the cliff's ledge, of Vormir. Natasha still nestled under your arm.

"How in the fuck do you do that?"

"I wizard never reveals his tricks," Tony said, "You know that, Y/N."

"The other stones are destroyed," Strange suddenly said, gaining everyone's attention. "We have to destroy the soul stone."

"But that will require a sacrifice," Natasha said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, though you could hear hints of it.

"On it!" Wade yelled, making his way past you, and towards the edge of the cliff.

Only stopping when you fisted your hand into the arm of his suit, then pulling him back.

"No. None of us are dying today."

"But, Y/N. I'm immortal-

"No," you interrupted him, voice hardening as to get your point across. "It's a soul for a soul. You go off that cliff, you come back without a soul. And I'm not letting that happen."

"Then how in the fuck are we supposed to destroy the stone?!" Rocket gruffed.

At your prolonged silence, Tony asked, "What are you thinking?"

"This was built as a shrine for stone right?"

"That's what I've been told. Yes," Strange confirmed.

"You said before- Weeks ago. When we were talking about everything, that the word "tomb" would be better to describe it, than "shrine"."

"Yes..." he said slowly, watching as you pieced everything together.

"Tombs normally hold things."

"Yes."

"Oh my, God," Tony breathed in realisation.

"Rocket? How many explosives do you have on the ship?"

"What are you suggesting?" Natasha asked from where she was still tucked into your side.

"We blow the shrine off of the fucking rock."

"How do you know that will work?"

Not bothering to answer his question, you said, "Nick. Get Danvers down here. Once we blow the shrine to smithereens, she comes along and blasts it with all the power she has." You then turned to face him. "Only an infinity stone can destroy an infinity stone. Ergo, so can it's creations. I mean how do you explain Wanda?"

"Well, this seems to be settled then," Wade stated, "So, let's head back to the ship, call your friend Danvers, and get me some food to eat. Because I'm starving," he finished starting to make his way towards the many, many stairs. To where the ship was waiting for you down below.

"What about the creepy weirdo over here?" Rocket asked, moving his thumb towards Red-Skull.

"I heard my own stories about him... leave him. Nazi fucks like him deserve to rot in hell."

"Here, here!" Wade called, "Now, can we go?"

"But what if we accidentally blow up the planet?" Tony. Asking the sensible questions. And making, one of, your best friends groan at being made to stop his trek for food. "I mean. We don't know how resilient this place is."

"Who the fuck cares." Rocket said. His words meant to be a question. But he just didn't care for an answer.

"Well, I think the planets around would have something to say about that," Fury said.

You looked over your shoulder, as they continued to bicker, and right at Strange. Who stood silently between the two giant pillars. The look in his eye, telling you everything that you needed to know.

This was always what was meant to happen.

No more sacrifices.

Natasha would be the very last one to ever feel what that would be like.

No more would this place be one of death for the greed of power.

No more.

"It won't."

"And how can you be so sure of that?" Fury asked you.

With the hard look in your eyes when you meet his, he knew what you said to be right.

"It won't."

***

The ship was in the air. Facing the planet, you had grown to despise.

Every one of you looking out of the large window, that sat above the controls. Wade, finally munching on his much-needed food.

Well, with all the whining he made on your long way back to the ship, you sure fucking hoped he needed it, with the about of brain cells he killed.

Silently, Rocket moved to hand the detonator up to you. Ready to shoot the planet with all you had, missiles, C-4, and many other explosives with names that were unknown to you, that Rocket had stored away. Even Tony had hooked FRIDAY up to the detonator, his suit waiting outside the ship, and ready to fire.

Form what you knew of Rocket, you could tell he wasn't the type to just give away something destructive like this. So, you understood that what he was doing, showed that he cared.

With a nod to the raccoon in thanks, you moved to give the remote to Natasha.

"Ya like to do the honours?"

"I'd love too." Her smile saying "thank you" for her, as she took it from your grasp.

She never took her eyes off of you as she pressed the button, the small smile still on her face the whole time. That was until the explosions started. Drawing both of you attentions back to the planet.

The shrine lit up like a Christmas tree, it getting bombarded with blast upon blast.

The storm-looking, gas-clouds, that were once above you, that was seemingly attached to the planet, slowly started to morph into what looked to be a tornado of sorts. It only clearing when the bright orange gem, floated up. Being held only by the swaying ribbons of the cloud. Just ready for the taking.

Then at the speed of light, leaving a white trail behind her, as a shooting star would.

Carol Danvers flew in.

And blasted the fuck out of the fucking stone.

As quick as she came. She was off again. Intending to meet you back home.

Finally.

Finally.

All the destruction just stopped.

The cliff. The shrine. And everything about it. Was destroyed.

But, within a blink of an eye, the portal you once thought was a permanently eclipsed sun, sunk in on its self. And it didn't take a genius to know that that wasn't the best thing to be around.

Not even a second later. A bright light shone around the dark centre, it taking on a light blue hue with how light it was. Before it began spreading throughout the shrinking dark core, bursting suddenly. Rays of light firing off all around.

Your eyes widened when they saw this, your instant reaction to when you saw the bright rays speeding towards the ship, was to pull Natasha into your chest. Raising your arm to block the side of her face from the explosion. Her doing the same by bringing your head closer to hers, covering it with her own arm.

If this was your end.

Then you would go together.

The ship shook vigorously. But, luckily, not enough to make you fall onto the hard floor.

People swore at the collision.

Wade crying, "Ah! My taco!" When the shaking had caused him to drop it.

"Fuck your taco. Luckily I reinforced the ship, that blast could have easily killed us if not," Rocket said, offhandedly.

But that was all background noise to you, and everyone else on the spaceship.

Too busy looking out the window.

"Oh my, God," Natasha breathed, at the sight before her.

"It's beautiful." You finished in the same voice. Unable to tear your eyes away from the sky before you. Along with coloured, smokey, gas-clouds, swimming in the open space.

The "sun" was no longer there. And in its wake. Millions upon millions of stars lit up the sky, dancing to a tune you could not hear, but you felt almost as if they were thanking you.

Looking over at Natasha, you saw the many emotions shining in her eyes. Relief, gratitude, freedom, peace. But most of all, you saw pure love.

Unable to hold yourself back, it's not like you would even try to anyway, you pressed your lips against hers, in a celebratory kiss.

Yeah.

You would never get enough of this.

"There must be so many new galaxies out there," Tony said.

"Well, they were always there," Rocket said in his gruff voice, "We can just see them from here now."

"Not just that," Strange spoke.

"What?" The raccoon asked.

"The soul stone has caused so much destruction and death since it was first created," he began, "Now, with its own destruction. It has given life from what it has taken."

"English, Strange."

The wizard sighed at you. "There are more stars in the sky. Ones unknown and unnamed. New planets. Maybe even galaxies. It's safe to assume there's life to go along with them."

"You mean..."

"Yes." He nodded at the raccoon. "You have many more planets to visit."

"Maybe try not to steal from them," you said, "They were only born two minutes ago."

Everyone laughed as your furry little friend flipped you off.

"For all we know," Strange said.

"You couldn't let me just have one joke, could you?"

"Not at all."

***

"So, Strangey-Boy," you gained the man's attention once you were back on solid ground, stopping him from walking too far away. As Natasha ran over to envelop Carol, Maria, and Pepper in a bone-crushing hug, "Is this the end of the journey?"

He took a deep breath, looking around at the green scenery all around. Looking like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. But then again. So did everyone. You sure felt like the weight of the world was finally off of yours.

Nodding, he said, "This one. Yes."

Strange held out a hand for you to shake, his cape flowing behind him.

"It was nice working with you, Y/L/N."

"You too," you said with sincerity, as you shook his offered hand. Surprising the greying man by pulling him in for a hug, only for you to whisper in his ear, "Thank you, you cryptic bastard."

You pulled away from the embrace, his laughs causing a chuckle to be brought out of you.

"Y/N?!"

Looking over, you spotted Natasha there, waiting for you. A bright smile on her face. And Tony not too far behind her, arms wrapped around his wife. The slight twitch of her head, indicating her silent ask, for you to follow her.

"Seriously. Thank you. And thank your mysterious friend, too."

With a nod and a smile from Strange. You were off.

Following Natasha wherever she so wished to go.

Walking towards the start of your new life.

***

(Two years later)

The soft thumping of your heartbeat calmed Natasha into a relaxed state. Head on your chest, hand over your heart, and curled into your side. She couldn't think of a better way to spend a day, than with you.

You had been relaxing in bed for most of the day. Only leaving it when one of you needed the bathroom, or to get food and drinks.

"What are you thinking?" you asked, with your eye's blinking heavily as you watched some TV show play.

Natasha hummed, the hand that was laying on your chest, previously stroking her fingertips on your chest, splayed and rubbed the body under it. She blinked open her eyes, spotting the perfect ring upon her finger. The one you had given her over half a year ago. A smile tugging on her lips at the sight.

"I'm thinking about how lucky I am."

"What?" You smiled, looking down at your beautiful fiance. "For this day off?"

"No. For you, you idiot."

"Oh, wow. Is that any way to speak to your fiance? To the love of your life? Your soulmate?"

"Shut up!" Natasha giggled, slapping at your chest. Which only made you grab her hand, running your thumb over the top of her palm, " I love you so much," she continued. Voice warm and full of adoration, "I can't believe I actually get the chance to spend my life with you. It's all I've ever dreamed of, ever since the day I met you."

The smile on your face turned soft as she spoke, delivering a gentle, loving kiss to her lips, you said, "Gross."

"You're a dick."

"I love you, too."

"As you should, I'm pretty fucking great."

A laugh burst from your chest, thankful for the woman in your arms. Excitement resting in your chest. At the thought of getting to spend the rest of your lives together. Even with everything that happened for you to get to this point, you were thankful. And if it meant it. You would do it over and over again, in a heartbeat. Just to get to this point.

The journey hadn't ended, the day you got back from Vormir. It was only the beginning.

You finally had your soulmate back.

And you were never gonna let her go, again.

***

Roses In A Storm Tag List:

(Crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

@uglipotata72829, @enderman359, @thelastavenger-3000, @blackwidowromonoff

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro

[pleaserelaxfc]

Mid-week Matches: Week 19.5

I do these write-ups mostly for myself, and I don't think there's many people who even see them, but it would still feel inappropriate to start this week's without first discussing what happened in the league last week. While I have summarized what happened below, if anyone is reading this and hasn't already heard about what has happened, please please go read the original reporting at the Athletic (and if the main article is paywalled, I think I have a couple of guest passes that I can send along if you DM me), as well as follow up reporting at any number of sources - the Washington Post and the New York Times among them.

What has been allowed to happen in the league over many, many years is horrifying. The ways in which teams have protected abusers by getting them out of their immediate environment, while keeping quiet about the reasons why, enabled those abusers to perpetuate their abuse elsewhere in the same league. This is particularly galling in a league where players, who are so often the victims, have so little power - in addition to making very little money, they also have practically no power over their own careers, in terms of moving away from a team where they are either being subjected to abuse or where they could be subject to retaliation if they report on it. It's appalling that it happened in the first place, and it is appalling that so many people with the power to impose consequences simply let it slide.

On Thursday, the Athletic reported that Paul Riley, then the coach of the North Carolina Courage and who had coached for many years in the NWSL and predecessor leagues, had coerced players into having sex with him, had sexually harassed players, had made homophobic and more generally abusive comments towards his players, and had otherwise abused his position of authority routinely over the years. Additionally, the Portland Thorns had been made aware of at least some of the accusations against him when he was the head coach there, had investigated him, and found that there was no evidence of illegal behavior but that he had violated team policy - they sent the NWSL the results of their investigation and released Riley from his position, but did not publicly announce the reasons for doing so, and most NWSL outsiders believed it was due to poor results for the season. Riley was promptly hired by the Western New York Flash, which later became the Courage - the article does not discuss whether the League made any effort to preclude the Flash from making the hire in the first place, whether the Flash ownership had been made aware of Riley's behavior, either by the League or through their own background checks, and what (if any) information the Courage obtained when their purchase of the franchise was effected, but given the existence of the Thorns' report, it seems unlikely that any of the parties were entirely unaware. Several hours after the article was published, the Courage announced that they had fired Riley.

The Athletic's article had reported that earlier this year, when the League implemented an anti-harassment policy for the first time, at least one of the players who had been subjected to some of Riley's worst behavior and who had been involved in the report at the Thorns, Sinead Farrelly, had emailed the League to see whether an investigation had been opened under the new policy, and noting that she had been subject to additional behavior that she had not had the opportunity to discuss at the time. At the time, she received a response that the Thorns investigation was concluded and would not be reopened. However, when the Courage announced Riley's firing, the League released a statement suggesting they were shocked to hear of these allegations and had worked with the Courage to get Riley out. In response to the implication that the League had not been aware of Riley's behavior, Alex Morgan published screenshots of the email exchanges between Farrelly and the League, which rebut any assertion that the League had not been aware (or at least, had not had ample cause and opportunity to make themselves aware) of the abuse. On Friday evening, the Lisa Baird, the Commissioner of the NWSL, as well as Lisa Levine, general counsel of the NWSL, who had been with the League at the time of the Thorns report, resigned following a general outcry at all levels.

On Thursday night, the NWSL Player's Association, which is currently in negotiations regarding a collective bargaining agreement, asked the NWSL to cancel last weekend's games. I'm not sure whether they would have been able to organize a strike if the NWSL had refused - national team players at least are barred from striking in the league - but the NWSL agreed, and those games have been postponed.

Now, for this week - three games will be played on Wednesday, which would have brought all the teams up to 20 games played (originally 21, before last weekend's postponements), except that the Gotham-KC game had to be rescheduled since the minor league baseball team that KC shares its field with made the playoffs and needed the field on the originally-scheduled date.

As things stand:

The Portland Thorns (38 pts) are still at the top of the table, but OL Reign (35) is starting to close in on them a little as well as to separate themselves from the rest of the table, with six points between the Reign and the two teams tied for third place.

On that note, the North Carolina Courage (29) seems to have dropped into the mid-table grouping, which otherwise hasn't changed much - the Chicago Red Stars (29) and the Orlando Pride (28) are still slightly above the Washington Spirit (26), the Houston Dash (26), and NY/NJ Gotham FC (25), with the Dash (based on tiebreaks) and Gotham currently outside playoff position, but games in hand for the lower-positioned teams mean that practically anything can happen within this group.

As of last weekend, KC (11) is officially out of the running for a playoff berth, and while Louisville (17) could technically still pull it off, they are now three full games behind playoff position with only five games remaining in their season.

Current Points/Max Potential:*

Thorns: 38/53

Reign: 35/47

Courage: 29/44

Red Stars: 29/41

Pride: 28/40

Spirit: 26/41

Dash: 26/41

Gotham: 25/43

Louisville: 17/32

KC: 11/26

Potential* end of season, based on overall performance to date:

Top Two: Thorns (48), Reign (42)

Middle Four: Courage (37), Red Stars (35), Pride (34), Gotham (33)

Out of the Playoffs: Dash (33), Spirit (33), Louisville (21), KC (14)

Change from last week: The Red Stars and the Pride have swapped places, but they have been keeping close together for the last several weeks. Otherwise, only the specific numbers have changed.

Potential* end of season, based on recent trends:

Top Two: Thorns (47), Reign (45)

Middle Four: Red Stars (36), Courage (34), Dash (34), Pride (34),

Out of the Playoffs: Spirit (33), Gotham (30), Louisville (18), KC (15)

Change from last week: The exact ordering of the teams in the middle four has been changed, and the expectations for the six teams vying for those four spots have tightened significantly.

Games to be played this Wednesday:

Gotham - Spirit (7:00, CBS Sports)

Courage - Louisville (7:30, Paramount+)

Thorns - Dash (10:00, Paramount+)

Mid-week notes:

First and foremost, Paul Riley of the North Carolina Courage was fired, and the NWSL's commissioner and general counsel both resigned.

It is also now official that Richie Burke of the Washington Spirit has been fired. He is also banned from working with NWSL players in the future. Additionally, the League found that the Spirit did not act in the best interests of the League, and their ownership has been indefinitely suspended from participating in matters of league governance, and has been sent a notice of violation to respond to within fourteen days. (As a side note, I think the Spirit's suspension from League governance is particularly interesting in the context of this week's ousters. I don't think the outcome would have changed, but I do wonder how it would have changed conversations, inside and outside the room.)

In response to a letter from the Spirit players, Steve Baldwin stepped down from his role as CEO and managing partner of the Spirit, leaving Ben Olsen as the head of the organization. This did not sufficiently address the concerns expressed by the players, and they have published an open letter to him, demanding that he sell his interest in the team to Michele Kang.

In connection with the reporting on Paul Riley, it was also revealed (or, confirmed) that Farid Benstiti, who was let go by OL Reign earlier this season, was also "asked to resign" as a result of abusive comments towards players - the Reign had not made that information public until now (although there was widespread speculation due to the fact that he had a history of abusive comments towards players at PSG when he coached there), and, like Riley with the Thorns in 2015, his departure came at a time when the team was significantly underperforming expectations, and could reasonably have been attributed to that.

In happier news, KC has come to an agreement with Sporting Kansas City to use Children's Mercy Park for their regular season games in 2022 - one fewer baseball field!

Notes on the week:

KC have been officially eliminated from playoff contention - with their loss to the Spirit in September, the maximum number of points they could get fell to 26, and with five teams already above that and the two additional teams tied at that number having another game to play between them, there is no way that the playoff threshold will be below 27.

With KC officially eliminated, bottom of the table playoff watch now turns to Louisville - they are already guaranteed to finish behind the Thorns and the Reign. A loss or a draw for Louisville on Wednesday against the Courage would also guarantee that Louisville finishes behind the Courage (in the event of a draw, the Courage has the tiebreak), and a loss for Louisville combined with a win for the Dash would guarantee Louisville to finish behind the Dash at least on tiebreaks (barring a very strange situation with more than two teams in the tiebreak) - while a Louisville loss combined with a Spirit win would also mean Louisville could at best end up tied for points with them, the head-to-head tiebreaker between them is currently even, with one more game to play.

The Thorns were not able to pull off a win against Chicago to officially guarantee themselves a spot in the playoffs in September, but the opportunity is still available to them this week: with a win over the Dash, they would earn 41 points, which is more than is possible for KC, Louisville, or the Pride to achieve, a loss would put the Dash below that threshold as well.

It is again possible that we could have a many-way tie at the end of the week, depending on the results of the various games, this time at 29 points: If the Spirit, Louisville, and the Dash all win, then the Spirit, the Dash, the Courage, and Chicago will all be on 29 points.

I think the Spirit-Gotham game will be the most interesting one of the week, and I'm not just saying that because they are my two favorite teams - it should be the most competitive of the three, and since both teams are on the bubble for the playoffs, the outcome could be important. Assuming last weekend's games do get rescheduled, my guess is that the cutoff for the playoffs will be around 33 points, so the Spirit need at least two wins and a draw in their remaining five games (three wins would get them to 35 points, which will almost certainly be safe), and Gotham need three wins out of their remaining six games. With two games against Louisville and one against KC remaining, in addition to one each against the Pride and the Courage, this is probably not a must-win for Gotham (although a win would probably put them in fairly comfortable position for the playoffs, and they will want a result just to maintain some momentum coming off of their first win in eight games); for the Spirit, with two of their five games being against the Courage and the Reign, and the other two against Louisville and the Dash, this isn't a must-win per se for the Spirit either, but it's much closer for them than for Gotham, and they will at least want to pick up a point here. Another factor of interest is the previous game between the two: Sam Staab got very controversially red-carded less than ten minutes into their only other meeting of the season, and while Washington kept it close, Gotham ultimately won 3-2. The League overturned the red card after the game, but there was nothing to be done about the result for the team, which was surely impacted - the Spirit will be looking for a win here if for no other reason than to make up for their previous (undeserved) defeat.

The Courage-Louisville game looks a little more straightforward on paper - Louisville is one of the bottom two teams in the league, and the Courage were very comfortably in the top two until very recently. However, although Louisville is on a seven-game winless streak of their own, the Courage have only scored once in their last four games (resulting in two draws and two losses), which is extremely unusual. Using the same 33-point threshold, the Courage only need a win and a draw in five games, and with only one of those five coming against a top-two team, they can afford to drop points here, but it will certainly be one of their easier opportunities, and a loss (or even a draw) will give other bubble teams a bit of confidence.

The Thorns will also be expected to win fairly handily over the Dash, although a loss in their last game against Chicago have them looking mortal again, and the Dash can come up with some unexpected results when their players are on top of their game. This isn't really a must-win for the Dash (although last weekend's rescheduled game against KC would have been), but they do have a fairly challenging schedule going forward, with this game and another against the Thorns, as well as one against the Courage in between, and they will need to pick up at least one point from the three - and that's assuming they can win outright in their other two games, against KC and the Spirit.

*These are potentials based on, respectively, taking all remaining points available (assuming last weekend's postponed gamed get rescheduled), matching their points-per-game ratio for the season to date through their remaining games, or on matching their points-per-game ratio for the last five games through the remaining games - they don't take into account tiebreaks or what the actual remainder of the season looks like.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop's most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo's pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 3 OF 22

“You started a book club with her?”

Arthur is dumbstruck. But he’s also dumb for having admitted that he was, in fact, listening in on her and Theo’s conversation at the counter, so now he’s nursing a headache from where his head met the wall when Theo had pushed a stack of books on top of him after she had walked away. Of course he was fully aware of where his co-worker was hiding all this time.

Theo crosses his arms and sighs. “It’s not a book club.”

“What?” Arthur cackles. “Care to explain that, when you’re doing exactly what book clubs do? Read books and share them with each other?”

“‘Clubs’ imply more than two people,” Theo answers, trying to keep his voice even when he, too, knows the reasoning is faulty at best.

“With the number of heart eyes she’s got for you, it ought to count as another person.”

Theo sighs. “Arthur, I’m going to ask you a favor.”

“You know the cost of that.”

“Yes, so let me owe you one, and shut the fuck up.”

“Aww, buddy—”

Theo’s expression shifts into something menacing.

“Arthur.”

-

Theo wishes it were just a book club.

That way, all they will have to do is talk about books and maybe engage in some intellectual discussion about said books. Then they go home.

But it’s more than just a book club.

(This is the beginning of Theo learning that it’s always ‘more than’ when she’s involved.)

It’s Saturday now, and Theo has just gotten out of his 3-hour long lecture. It’s considered to be one of the more complicated, higher-level business classes in his course, but…Theo doesn’t really have any strong feelings about it. It’s okay. It’s the second to the last subject he’ll have to take before he can finally proceed to his thesis-writing class… and Theo is rather eager to get this finished already.

…Well, no, he’d rather focus on helping his brother out since he can, since Vincent comes above all things, but the one agreement for him to keep his scholarship despite not taking a full load of units is that he had to take at least three units—one subject—each semester. He wasn’t going to say no to the demands of a scholarship and free tuition, so he takes a subject once a week—on his day off from work—and takes the rest of the day recovering from the long week of working retail.

But that’s about to change.

He doesn’t know what he’d done to end up in this position—well, maybe he does, and what he did was agree to work with Arthur, of all people—but now he’s here. Instead of relaxing on a Saturday afternoon, he’s picked up under his “care”—or whatever one would like to call it—a rather eccentric literature department girl, and there’s no turning back from that. Once she texts Vincent (not him, because why would he be giving away his phone number like that?)—

[ 2:38 ] Hi Vinny! Can you tell Theo I’ll meet him at the Grove at 4?

he knows he’s got no choice but to follow through with his word.

Unfortunately for him.

(And fortunately for his curiosity.)

It’s the first official day of the book club; the only agenda is to swap books. For the very first book, they’d agreed to read a wildcard from the other, any book they’d want the other to read. He’d considered two possible options—either giving her a book that’s entirely for the joke of it, one that he’s either neutral to or did not particularly enjoy; or giving her a book that’s genuinely interesting to some degree or another. He’d flipped a coin—and gotten tails—so he’s got slung under his arm his copy of Neil Gaiman’s Good Omens.

“Theo! I’m over here!”

She waves from underneath the shade of a tree. Her dark brown hair falls in gentle curls, tied half-up with a ribbon as it always is. She’s wearing a cream top and a long brown skirt, matching with the rest of the place. And she’s even laid a picnic mat down. That… was not part of his expectations. He shakes his head and sighs a little as he heads toward her.

She cocks her head to the side. “What’s with that expression? Don’t want to spend time with me?”

“No,” he answers bluntly, though it doesn’t sound that true.

She laughs the same way Arthur does when he figures Theo out. Theo begins to have a growing dread of what kind of “friendship” he’s building with this girl—and how maybe Arthur had planned all of this to begin with: a partner to bring Theo into misery. “C’mon now, take a seat. It’s a great fall afternoon.”

And true, it is.  It’s still rather early in the season so it’s not too cold, but the campus is already beginning to fill in with the classic fall colors. There’s a wind that’s gently passing by, shuffling the strands of her hair that’s tied half-up rather neatly.

The Grove is, despite its name, not in fact a grove, but rather an open park in the middle of campus, surrounded and dotted by large trees that serve as great shade in the summer and also rather beautiful in the fall. There are benches and tables here and there, allowing it to be a great spot to study for the students, but it truly is a different experience to hang out there with a picnic mat, looking up at the blue sky—whether in the day or at the night. The Grove is also one of the quieter portions of the campus, which, Theo begrudgingly agrees, makes it a good place to hold discussions about books.

“Aren’t we just going to exchange books?” Theo asks, but he’s already heading down toward the very classic red and white checkered picnic mat.

Her voice is undeniably disappointed. “Wait, you were serious about not wanting to spend time with me?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Besides make friends? No. It’s a Saturday.”

She’ll be at the bookshop tomorrow again anyway, as she is every Sunday… he could have just given her the book then, and vice versa. Did she invite him all the way here just to… hang out with him?

Oh boy, what did Theo get into? 

“You really should find a better hobby,” Theo says, as he takes a seat a foot away from her on the mat. She’s leaning on her wrists, her arms behind her, looking up at the clear fall sky, watching the clouds. She grins when she hears it but doesn’t turn toward him.

“Did you know,” she begins, “that’s also exactly what Arthur told me when I said it’s probably nice to make friends with you?”

“Arthur says useless stuff a lot of times, but that was the one time you ought to have listened to him.”

She shrugs it off with a laugh before pulling out of her bag a thinly bound volume. “Book exchange?”

They both place the books they’d brought in between both of them. She has offered him a collection of poetry, titled No Matter the Wreckage, by an author named Sarah Kay. He hasn’t read this one. And by the look on her face, as she picks up the Gaiman volume, it seems like she hasn’t read the one he’s brought, either.

“You didn’t seem like the kind of guy who read fantasy,” she comments, as she’s reading the summary on the back page. “Somehow I’m not that surprised though…”

“Gaiman is a good author,” Theo only remarks, hand on the poetry book. “His worldbuilding is rather thorough.” Theo doesn’t read a lot of poetry anymore, but he used to—perhaps this is the time to come back to metaphor and symbol. …Not that business isn’t filled with that stuff as well, all double meanings and reading between the lines. “I’m not surprised you brought me a poetry book.”

“I mean, I’d love if you were to read Les Miserables with me for class, but I figured I wanted something not too aggressive on the brain for this, you know?” she comments. “Why’d you choose Good Omens?”

Okay, he didn’t expect that. But he couldn’t exactly say It was the seventy-fourth one on the shelf, which was the number I got when I ran a random number generator. He answers, instead, “The questions it asks about morality and fate are interesting.”

“I see,” she hums. “I’ve read some Gaiman, but not this one. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Theo thumbs through the poetry book idly, but not wanting his eyes to land on the poetry yet—he rather enjoys taking his time with books like these. “And why did you choose this one?”

“I like her poetry,” is the simple answer, but when he turns to give her a look, she continues. “The metaphors and symbols aren’t too expansive, too ‘deep’ to unearth, but they give the kind of dreaminess that I like about poetry.”

“That says a lot about you,” Theo snorts, and she pouts at him.

“And your book choice says a lot about you too,” she answers with a grin.

Theo thought he’d want to leave immediately. To hand the book, answer her questions, and then go. Maybe he can catch up and read that Alain de Botton book he didn’t have the heart to finish last week.

But interest had begun to grow in him. He hadn’t had someone so insistent in hanging out with him since he met Arthur. Not that Theo isn’t friendly—he’s part of a few business organizations on campus, although he’s not as active because of work—and he definitely has a handful of friends and acquaintances, but he can just tell it.

That she’s different.

So when she asks him, “Stay with me to read a bit?”, Theo doesn’t even think before he answers, “Okay.”

--

The weeks blur into one another like this. Sundays and Wednesdays, she comes to the bookstore to hang out. Her usual time, too. Arthur’s gotten into joking that maybe her wallet is thanking her now that she doesn’t have to pretend to want to buy something to come, but she does not deny nor confirm this. A lot of the time she does the same things anyway: come in, talk and chat with Arthur and Theo for a bit, and then hide away tucked in between the shelves scouring for books.

And it’s understandable, really, because the Dragon’s Hoard is the bookstore for this campus, after all. None of the other bookstores can compete with it.

If the campus’ most feared and adored physics professor (Isaac Newton) and the campus’ most voracious reader (Dazai Osamu) pledges to the bookstore’s greatness, she has no doubt about it.

(Them being her friends has nothing to do about that. For sure.)

The Dragon’s Hoard is popular on the campus for a few key reasons. One: the students have a discount if they can prove if the books are being bought for class, like in a syllabus or a professor’s official email. It’s not much and depends on what kind of book is being bought, but even a 5% discount on a book worth a month’s rent is already a lot for a struggling student.

Another reason it is popular is that it pretty much has a very actively rotating stock. That is, the books on the shelves constantly change every week, depending on the season or whatever is a hit as of late. (Of course, you can still ask for something in the back, if ever.) Most of the campus bookstores don’t take this much effort in keeping the shelves interesting—or have enough books at all to rotate them—so most of the bookstore connoisseurs (bookstore window-shoppers, really) enjoy coming into the Hoard to browse their books.

But perhaps the most important reason the Hoard is so popular is that the staff are known to be very well-read.

(This is exactly one of the reasons why she’s so interested in getting to drag Theo into a little book exchange.)

Interested in a specific genre but don’t know where to begin? Ask the staff—they’ll have a recommendation for you, tailored to your specific interest. Looking for a book whose plot you vaguely remember but not the title or the author? Ask the staff—they’ll either have it in stock or know it enough to be able to search for it and order it for you. Want to gift a friend a book but don’t quite know what will suit their tastes, and only have the vaguest of clues of what they might like? Don’t worry, ask the staff—they got this.

All of this happens thanks to the skillful eye of the bookstore’s main owner: a rich, middle-aged man who only lets himself be referred to as “Mr. Saint-Germain.” Said Saint-Germain guy is already an urban legend in the campus on his own because of his family’s supposed long history with the university and his silent influence on the school system but—that’s for another time. The thing with Saint-Germain is that he actually comes in to interview potential staff whenever they have a new hire, just to make sure they’re smart enough about books to actually qualify as a staff in the Hoard.

Sure, of course, she knows that Arthur qualified as well, and that’s why he’s in the store with that polo shirt with a dragon embroidered onto it, but—Arthur is different.

She knows Arthur from a class she was taking once; they’d both taken the same literary criticism class and were paired up for a project once. It’s how she got to know that he worked in the bookstore and—well, got to mooch out of his staff discount, sometimes. (“Please, you have to, it’s bigger than the student discount in this case?” “But just once!”) It’s not that Arthur doesn’t have a good literary taste, it’s just…

She feels like it’s a good, non-intrusive way to get to know Theo by reading the books he likes.

And asking him questions about it.

Is that so bad?

[ddaenghoney]

chapter twenty; finale.

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5558

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“SoundWave Disclosed” trends within an hour the article releases. Briefly mentioning Jimin cracking the company’s glass by his brash statement in front of the most popular summer festival, the reporter you spoke with made sure to leave no detail forgotten. Like a proper interview, the article is not focused on literary conjecture, but instead the words you said verbatim. Unaltered, remorseless, and eloquently you state the bigger picture of the truth.

“When I think back on it all now, I’m angry at myself. I’m angry that I didn’t give my efforts the value they deserved by giving away my name. I shouldn’t have ever allowed myself to lie, but when I wanted to tell the truth, so many other careers were held over my head to keep me quiet. Either way I went wouldn’t be painless, but at least now people can decide for themselves what they think of me with the facts out in the open.”

You look at the public’s commentary with this reveal. Wanting to face the results head on, regardless of positivity, you scroll through various feeds, peruse videos, let the words find you in the height of spreading smoke. Wandering through the volume of opinions blindly, you believe it easier to find your way about when this article is unabashedly your perspective.

The frustration and petty verbiage thrown in your way clogs your ears, but the ground you step along is smooth like each step will undoubtedly be solid beneath your feet. It’s the apologies of YouTube idol news accounts that speculated on your intentions with Yoongi, the comments giving SoundWave’s manipulative dealings proper attention, and the familiar voices ahead of you calling for you to keep walking that let you feel confident in your strides.

You wear a cap and keep the large plaid shirt lent to you close to your skin while you sit with dangling legs. A bright pink type of flavored lemonade is half full in front of your loosely crossed arms. Namjoon’s voice speaks incoherently in the background behind you as the streaming site playlists blurs the ambiance of his cafe into a state of lulling energy.

“To be honest with you,” Seokjin’s finger scrolls the web page depicted on his phone that’s flat atop the bar. “I wish you took a picture for the article. I would’ve gotten you some kind of designer jacket or something so you could really tell everyone ‘fuck you’-- I’m the best of your friends in that regard, you know?”

“I already have people following my social media because of that article, I’m sure they can just see some pictures of me on my Instagram.”

“Admit I’m the best of your friends-”

“I think the one whose dorm room she crashed in for two years straight in college deserves that title, Jin.” Namjoon grasps his glass of water when he returns to you two. You huff as Seokjin nods his head admittedly in silent agreement. A sudden scowl escapes Namjoon’s lips when his neck arches to get an upside down perspective of the words Seokjin reads on his phone. “Don’t encourage her to look at comments. Lots of idiots out there.”

“A lot of people think I wasn’t the worst of the whole situation though.” You smile at Namjoon, and take a quick sip of your drink when he narrows his eyes at you with an unsatisfied gleam in them. You swallow the beverage and glance to Seokjin who swivels in his seat to look towards the front windows. A tiny nod brings you back to Namjoon and you meekly speak, “But I shouldn’t have been staring at them all for hours yesterday. You’re right.”

“You called me saying you made the worst decision of your life-”

“In her defense, she was four glasses deep in wine when she called you to say that.”

You point a finger to Seokjin’s sentence and nod. “In my defense.”

“All I’m saying,” Namjoon lightly chuckles as he leans against the counter behind him. “Worry less about them. It’s going to be crazy for at least a couple of weeks, so try not to look up all the commentary like you’ve been doing.”

“Yeah, go on dates with your boyfriend instead. Can’t he rent you a boat to cruise around the river on or something?”

“I could rent a boat.” You roll your eyes, shrugging. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. He’s been pretty stressed between my problems and figuring out all the aspects of starting up the company with Hoseok.” You rest your jaw on your hand, staring absently at your drink with pursed lips as you consider the option of a relaxing evening spent on the river.

“Just take a fishing rod with you for him. He sucks at fishing, but he likes it a lot.” Seokjin says, glancing back at a small group of young adults that chatter amongst themselves as they go to a table. After a moment of assessment he faces back towards you and Namjoon who look at him with narrowed eyes. “I was just making sure they weren’t stalking-”

“How did you become friends with Yoongi in the first place?” You blurt out in bewilderment, while Namjoon nods in agreement with your question. “You were friends with him before I even knew him, but never mentioned how.”

“He happened to be on the same fishing boat with me like a year ago.” Seokjin shrugs, reaching for his fork to continue munching on the half finished slice of cheesecake. “I may have knocked his expensive sunglasses into the ocean.”

Namjoon bursts into laughter as you raise an eyebrow. Seokjin ignores you both to stuff a large bite into his mouth.

“And you somehow befriended him instead of making him hate you like I probably would’ve if that’s how we met?” You ask with a tilt of your head, and Seokjin takes no time to properly swallow his food before speaking to you again with one cheek stuffed,

“Clearly, I have a way with people, Y/N.” You smile and shake your head, accepting the answer as you go back to sipping your drink. While Namjoon presses for more details, you click onto the internet typing in a search for evening rental cruises. Staring at the various options available and filtering them to a short notice, you can’t help smiling softly as the idea of an exuberant date goes through your mind. Such a public endeavor as well, though there would be ample space between the two of you and spectators, you won’t have to worry about any of them seeing the two of you. The simplicity of it feels relaxing on its own.

A startling familiarity enters your ears. Like ballads sung before the ambiance is similar, but lyrics new as you recognize the voice playing from the cafe’s speakers as Jimin. You look up from your phone, looking nowhere in particular, but focus on the words-- the song he wrote on his own from you with a hopeful intent of somehow putting it onto radios somehow. You bite your lip as the bittersweet melody crosses your senses and the gentle request he sings, “I want you to be your light,” brings a tightened and tiny curl to your lips.

“I could change it.” Namjoon speaks up and takes you out of the moment. You shake your head, refraining from any laughter at their worried expressions as they gauge your reaction to the song.

“No, it’s a nice song.” You say softly, meaning your words.

Jimin’s career is entirely up in the air at this point. With the release of this very song as a rebellious act towards SoundWave and him admitting that he hadn’t written any of his other songs, he finished the festival to receive a surprisingly loud applause from the crowds, you heard. Nonetheless, the internet itself isn’t as optimistic as the evening was for Jimin. You’re hopeful despite it all, but you can’t over estimate the ability of SoundWave and Jimin’s simultaneous scandals to beat every odds against them.

Though you avoid dwelling on the worry, knowing ultimately that you’ll find out through the media, and can simply hope.

---

You sit criss crossed on your desk chair, perusing a boat rental agency leisurely and without much interest for what’s before your eyes. Your mind is further away, pondering words in your head in a medley of arrangements. Hoping some combination will strike you into an inspired mood, you simply scroll onwards on the page of various yacht sizes and at this point the action becomes more robotic than conscious.

Your head perks downs the direction of your front door beyond the wall where you sit in your studio. As you glance to the clock at the bottom of your screen, you refrain from gasping at the ten o’clock reading, having not realized how much time went away from you in the monotony of the day after leaving Namjoon’s cafe.

“Angel?” Yoongi’s voice calls out as you hop off from your chair to greet him.

“I’m in my studio!” You say out in return while shimmying your second foot into the pair of slippers and heading for the doorway. You open it fully from its ajar state and exit, but immediately scuff the floor as you halt to a stop so as not to bump into Yoongi. “Oh-”

“Careful-” Yoongi says, reaching for your arm so you don’t hit it against the framing, then chuckles softly. “Guess I interrupted something?”

“Not really,” You say sheepishly and sigh softly. “I just didn’t realize it was already this late.” You admit as you collect his hand within yours to lead him back into the studio space. “I was going to try and mess around with lyrics, but couldn’t think of anything, so I was trying to do something else while I mulled it over, but Joon keeps getting on me about looking at social media too much--” You shrug, turning to him to mumble admittedly, “Which he’s right about, I guess.”

“Guess,” Yoongi repeats with an amused smile as you ignore the teasing tone to sway your hands between you. He hums, glancing beyond your shoulder to the large monitor displayed on your desk. “Thinking about becoming a boat captain?”

“Oh!” You quickly turn from him to click an exit on the internet window, “What boat?”

Yoongi laughs, sliding into your desk chair as you click around to open up a clothing website instead. “I was looking for clothes, actually. An ad must’ve come up for yachts-” You sentence cuts off from a tiny squeal escaping your mouth as Yoongi pulls you back to sit atop his lap.

“That’s a pretty luxurious ad, babe.” When you whine in disagreement, Yoongi simply smiles a small kiss against your cheek. “Okay then. Ad then. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

“Pretend to be surprised if you ever end up on one for an evening too, please.”

“Okay.” Yoongi hugs you while you giggle from the ticklish ministrations he dances along your jaw. “Hey, guess what.”

“You’re going to let me keep this flannel?” You voice murmurs before placing a sweet, chaste kiss to Yoongi’s lips before he has time to react to the silly request. When you pull away, he glances down to the attire of yellow plaid worn on your figure and his head tilts contemplatively.

“Because it looks nice on you, I’ll let you keep it for now.” Your pouting lips used to plead do nothing to stop Yoongi’s warm smile as he kisses you again and says quietly. “Hoseok and I decided on a building.”

“Really?” The tone of your voice rises as your eyes widen with a happy surprise. Yoongi nods with an utterly bright smile adorning his face, accepting the quick peck you place against his expression and continuing on with bubbly interest, “Where at? No-- actually, what’s the name going to be anyways?”

“The building’s actually only a couple of subway stations from Namjoon’s cafe, so I guess you can visit him more often than now.”

“He’ll get sick of me.” You say, shrugging off the tiny shake of Yoongi’s head so you can press on with the subject at hand. “I can’t believe you both found a place so quickly.”

“Well, maybe that’s the easier part. Figuring out everything else will take awhile still, but a couple of investors are interested, and I think I’ve found a person that can do a better job at leading everything overall than Hoseok and I can.”

“So you’re both not going to fight for the CEO title?” You ask, fiddling with the hair on the back of his head as Yoongi just scoffs gently at the teasing inquisition. He shakes his head while his hands situate on your sides to help shift you on his lap as you turn slightly to better see him.

“That’s not something I’m interested in, no. I just want to make music.”

You smile at Yoongi fondly, unintentionally causing a little flush to peek on the tips of his cheeks. Considering the option to be in joint-leadership over the entirety of their company is so obviously available, you find it slightly jarring that Yoongi doesn’t feel any need to reach out for the position. Though you think his answer best suits him, especially when you remember that the manipulation of his image is what stopped him from being the musician that he had wanted to be for so long now.

Squeezing your waist with his hands, Yoongi kisses you softly. A hand of yours falls to his shoulder while the other remains interweaved in his hair to hold him close as the kiss lingers. Breaking away after a minute, Yoongi’s head tilts, appearing curious as he gently inquires, “What are you thinking, baby?”

“I’m just really happy for you.” Your voice trickles simply, though the sincerity causes Yoongi’s lips to tighten into a bashful smile while he just nods and lets his eyes glance downwards from the radiating endearment in your eyes. You take note of more pink decorating his skin, and just hug onto him tightly, mumbling sweetly against Yoongi’s cheek. “You’re so cute. I can’t wait to see whatever you produce next.”

“You should help me with a couple of the songs, angel.” Yoongi murmurs while smiling at your actions, rubbing his hands along your sides as you squeeze onto him. “I really liked working together.”

“We’re a good team, I think.” Yoongi hears the twinge of a bashful hesitancy in your words, making him have for force back an endeared sigh and replace it with a nod as you start to continuously press tiny kisses against his face to further yourself from the embarrassment you feel for the mushy words.

“I think so too-- what is your face so red for?” He laughs outright, not allowing you to hide away your rosy expression by catching your jaw gently with a hand. “You’re flustered for no reason.”

“It just felt like such a cliche thing to say-” You barely manage to mumble the sentence before Yoongi’s cutting your lips off with his own against them. Humming in thought as he pulls away and ignores the small pat of your hand against his chest for teasing you, Yoongi speaks with a smile,

“But it’s the truth, so it’s okay. You can be a Hallmark card all you want, and I’ll still love you-”

“Don’t tease me.” You attempt to sound firm, but nonetheless smile at the soft admission at the end of his sentence. Yoongi bites back any further jokes that you’re sure he’d enjoy to say, instead of giving you the quiet moment to wade off some of the meadow on your skin. “Can’t believe you came here at ten in the evening, by the way. When you’ll just have to leave soon to go home-”

“Who said I was going to leave soon?”

“Who said you’re allowed to stay over?”

Yoongi chuckles, reclining so that his back rests properly against the chair as you try to maintain your defiant expression. It’s utterly useless considering how there’s a playful smile etched into your face, so Yoongi just shrugs. “Tell me to leave then, baby,”

Refraining from laughter you instead bite your bottom lip, and cross your arms while Yoongi’s head tilts to wait for your reply with a coy gleam in his irises. Instead of a verbal reply for the moment, you scoot off of his lap, beginning to walk past him as he spins casually on the chair for his eyes to follow your movements. “If you’re staying, then you’ll have to sleep on the couch since I don’t have a guest bedroom.”

“You’re so,” Yoongi exhales like bits of laughter, shaking his head as he gets off the chair to catch up to you before you’re able to dip around the corner. A small squeal leaves your lips as Yoongi’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you back against his chest. Immediately he lays a buttery trail along your cheek as you laugh at his reaction and place your hands over top of his wear they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt that you wear, “If I’m staying on the couch, then I want this back, sweetie.”

---

In early February a small celebratory party causes Seokjin’s club to close its doors to the public. Though Yoongi told him over and over that the gesture was unnecessary, his worries were ignored by Seokjin who stated that he wanted to help give a nice evening to his friends and recognize the accomplishment of the official opening of Sope Ent. that would occur at the end of the month.

The employee pool was nowhere near the size of SoundWave at its peak the years earlier, but everyone working for Yoongi and Hoseok’s company were hand-picked and a feeling of camaraderie flourished throughout the months beforehand of work to become organized. The building was mostly finished, but a handful of office spaces and studios were still in the process of being completed, leading to you and some others opting to work from home while all the preparation continued on.

Because of your home studio being the location where you did practically all of your work originally, you had little care for the fact that you’d find your way to the building later than the majority of employees. The excitement of working with the artists that signed so far was a far more important focus to you, and in some instances surprising like when you noticed Jinsol’s name appearing on a list of accepted trainees (though Namjoon was more surprised as it meant he would need to find a replacement for her part-time position at his cafe).

Ultimately, you’re enshrouded in anticipation for future months and beyond of working as a recognized songwriter and producer. Yoongi’s unoften worried mentions that he’s apologetic to the fact that you’re in some regards starting from the bottom up are easily squashed by your vibrant energy assuring him that you’re nothing but happy to be able to continue working with the career you had always wanted.

Beyond that, you’re proud of Yoongi and Hoseok’s ability to get everything together in a considerably short stretch of time. Though it meant Hoseok’s plan of releasing music was pushed back so that it could be released under their company’s name, the wait ended up being worth it as it allowed media to cause an interest in what would come.

The weeks immediately following the article you released caused a dramatic shift in SoundWave’s perception in the public. With your name getting dragged early on for participation despite the manipulation, so many people decided to stop supporting the company and artists by association that they went through understandably hard times. Every group and soloist offered apologies, but the currents changed only when Yerin publicly apologized and stepped down from her position as CEO, with the board of directors promising for change.

You realize she was simply a scapegoat because the board did have a larger hand in what went on throughout SoundWave, but you manage to find satisfaction in this method, because the majority of artists came out with their careers still intact. Though trust has to be regained, at least they were able to have the chance.

The name you’re still curious to hear about in the future is Jimin. It was late in the year, only days before Yerin resigned, that news of him leaving SoundWave circulated loudly in every social media site available. More than anything, fans expressed utter sadness, demanding an answer from SoundWave to understand why he left when the majority of the public sided with him after his public apology acted as the first crack in the company’s secret crumbling. Which is why everyone, including you, were nothing but confused to hear that his leave was completely at his own discretion with the company evening expressing that they attempted negotiation to keep him.

“It just felt weird for him to be there.” Jeongguk told you during a small friendly lunch between him, Hoseok, Yoongi, and you. “With all of the history that went on.” You recall him biting back further information on that statement for the sake of the present. “Anyways, I’m sure he’ll be back to music eventually.”

As you look on from the bar stool you sit on, you smile as Yoongi finishes a speech egged on by the crowd of happy employees enjoying the evening. Hoseok cuts in with a cheery tone and his glass raised high in the air, while Yoongi remains beside him for the moment and simply sends you a glance that tells you he’s at minimum shy of all the attention currently on him. All you can offer is two thumbs up to which you watch him bite back a sarcastic smirk.

“Your speech was good.” You assure him with a grin as Yoongi returns to you after the loud cheers mark the end of the melodramatic speeches and the restart of music. He shakes his head at your words and takes the seat beside you,

“Thanks. I don’t know if I believe you, but thank you, angel.” Yoongi says with the usual gentleness of his voice making you so much more fond in that moment, especially as you take in his hand finding yours without hesitation to entwine the fingers. “You really look beautiful.”

“You said that already.” You comment though your heart beat skyrockets from the genuine tone he speaks with. Softly, he smiles and nods his head, finally finding your eyes again,

“And I’m probably going to say it again at least ten more times tonight, sweetie.” Yoongi’s teeth peek with his grin as he fondly watches you avert your gaze to the two of your glasses left on the bartop when he went to go speak. “Look at me, please.”

Inhaling quietly from all of the emotions amplified in your chest from the evening’s joyful ambiance, you eventually cast a glance back to him with enough time to see the sweet light in his eyes before he kisses you softly. Where your hands hold together, your free hand encapsulates the top of his hand to gently squeeze as Yoongi lets the kiss linger on a few seconds longer than you’d expect from him with the surroundings somewhat crowded.

“I know it’s only been a few hours, but can I take you somewhere?” Yoongi asks against your lips, so quietly that you almost miss it with the music that plays all around you. Though it takes you only a couple of seconds to respond, your mind captures a considerable amount of wonder for where exactly he intends to lead you to. Still though, you simply peck his lips once more to earn a smile from him as you nod,

“Yeah, wherever you want.”

Despite what you expected, Hoseok simply only grinned and waved the two of you off when Yoongi mentioned you would both head out. Seokjin similarly smiled as you told him a thank you and goodnight as well, and considering those two of your friends are quite close with Yoongi, you don’t stop yourself from a playful question as he settles his coat around your shoulders upon exit of the nightclub.

“I’m guessing they already know about where you want to take me to?”

“Well, it’s no fun to give any kind of hints, angel, so you’re not getting them from me.” He says, letting you hug onto his arm while using the other to hail a cab. “It’s kind of different leaving Jin’s club this time around, isn’t it?”

“A good different.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nods as he opens the door to the taxi, smiling down at you before letting you enter inside. “Really good different.”

Outside of Sope Entertainment, you can’t help lifting up your head to take in the view of the small tower that you’d be working in from now on. Yoongi exits the vehicle after giving a tip to the taxi who drives off once the door slams. You turn your attention to Yoongi as he takes hold of your hand once again to lead you inside the sparsely populated building.

A security guard allows the two of you in after the flash of identification cards, and by the time you reach the elevator you’ve begin rubbing Yoongi’s arms to fuel circulation and warmth. Your actions result in a fit of chuckles from his lips as the elevator doors open wide to allow the two of you inside.

“I’m not that cold, angel.” He assures, but does nothing to stop you from hugging onto him as the elevator shuts. Shimmying the two of you a step forward he manages to finally click a floor number as your body clings onto his to give warmth.

“Please, you hate cold weather.” You retort and place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Is this where you take me up to the roof and we look dramatically off at the city?”

“No, it’s way too cold for that.” Yoongi quickly admonishes the idea, causing you both to laugh at both the severe way he spoke, but also the implication that he is more cold than he lets on. “But maybe in the summer or at least the spring that would be a fun idea.” He says, watching the floor number climb as he rubs little trails on your back and your cheek settles against his chest. “C’mon, angel; this is the floor.”

You pull away from him to look at the number and know it to be the name one his and Hoseok’s studios are on. You exit out of the elevator with him quickly pressing a switch opposite of the elevator to turn the hallway lights on.

“Oh, is this about the song you’ve been telling me about lately?” You ask with a growing smile that’s excited from the idea. Yoongi huffs and pouts as he turns his head to look down at you,

“I said it’s no fun getting hints, angel.” His high-pitched rumble makes you laugh gently as you squeeze his hand. Coming closer to his studio, you hum and reconfigure a guess of what he wants to show you despite his protests, “Is it that you decorated your studio finally-”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls out as he stops a pace behind you to bring a halt to your stroll. Turning towards him, your eyebrows knit in confusion because his studio is a few more steps down. The confusion builds more as Yoongi just smiles before flicking his head to gesture to the room you both stopped in front of.

Turning to look in the direction, you see a door just the same as all the others and you’re about to question the significance of it before your eyes catch the polished metal plaque with your name engraved on it. In your stupor, you release hold of Yoongi’s hand to turn with widening eyes towards the door. Taking a step, you feel words escape your mind as you can only think about the obvious insinuation of the plaque, and turn your head back to Yoongi as though silently asking him to verify.

With a proud, soft smile he nods his head, stepping beside you to press a series of numbers into the lock on the door. “It took a little while longer than I expected to get it set up, especially without you realizing considering you walk down this hall so many times.” He chuckles only a little before pushing the door open to hold it ajar with his hand. Yoongi returns his gaze back to you as he happily admits, “But this studio’s yours, Y/N.”

After a moment to let his words sink in, you take another step to press your palm against the richly stained wood of the door and push it wider to enter inside. Following behind you, Yoongi presses the switch to turn on the lights that illuminate the rectangular space that you walk further into. A desk is already positioned on the far wall with monitors and equipment all arranged similarly to the way they are at your home studio. Shelves around the room are empty, and the couch against one side is free of pillows or throw blankets. The space is completely fresh to personal touch, but the door alerts anyone who reads it that the room is your own creative area as an acknowledged employee.

Turning back towards Yoongi who’s quiet yet clearly eager from his position beside the closed door, you walk to him and trust him to catch you as you practically jump into a hug that his arms catch you from tightly.

“Thank you so much.” You mumble against the fabric of his shirt, clenching wrinkles into the clothing on his back as well. Yoongi smiles as he rests his chin on your head, rubbing soothingly against your back as a tiny whimper leaves your lips.

“You’re welcome, angel, but this is really something you deserved all along.”

“But,” You pull your face from his chest to look up at Yoongi despite the tears welling in your eyes from gratitude. “Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten here the same way, and I wouldn’t have been able to do everything with someone like you to be beside me through it all. Yoon, you’ve really helped me do so much and everything was so crazy to get here, but I’m glad that it happened how it did, because I really love you. I can’t believe I got to meet you and fall in love with you.”

Cupping Yoongi’s face, you pull him down into a kiss as he moves his hands to better hold you against his chest. Following the kiss, Yoongi can’t help but lean his head against your shoulder, for a moment overcome by emotion due to your admission. You smile, rubbing his back as he squeeze you a bit tighter and exhales.

“You know, angel, if I hadn’t ever met you I’d still be practically a puppet to my old management team.” He kisses your cheek briefly before straightening up to properly look down at you. “I love you so much too. Whether you realize it or not, you really inspired me to finally fight back against them too, sweetie. I really am so proud of you and everything you’ve done.”

Yoongi kisses you gently once more, finding himself completely content as your arms wrap loosely around his neck to hold the two of you in place. When he thinks about it, receiving the recognition you deserved really was the only suitable outcome for everything that you’ve been through. Everything feels correct, even if realistically there are still trials to overcome where the company itself is concerned. At least there’s undeniable optimism in the future.

You hold his hand as you break apart to walk back around the studio space and explore the room. Coming up to the computer you go ahead and turn the power on just to see it and be shown that everything is as real as it seems to you. Yoongi stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to rest his chin against your shoulder. The computer brightly flashes with a screensaver already saved to a picture the two of you took on an evening boat date months earlier. You laugh at the sight of it and turn towards Yoongi whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“This is what I get for letting Hoseok plug everything in for me.” He mumbles as you press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “You should change the passcode from what it is so he can’t come in here whenever to spam your studio with pictures or other pranks.”

“If I change the passcode, maybe I’ll keep it a secret from you too.” You ponder aloud, earning an expected poke in your side to tickle you from Yoongi. As your body jerks from the ticklish feeling, he simply hugs you tighter, pressing a kiss against your cheek in retribution. You eventually sigh as you smile and relax back against his chest, admitting softly, “But honestly, if Hoseok’s going to print out cute pictures like this one, maybe I’ll just keep the code the way it is.”

“Angel, the code is 1111. Please don’t do that.”

if you enjoyed please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i worked really hard on it! And if you’ve read thank you so much! below are some fun facts and final words about the series!

tag list: @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus​ @baebyjoonie​ @honeyoongles​ @betysotelo18​ 

Fun facts:

Jinsol, Seulgi, and Jihyo the only non-bts named character that are supposed to be their real-life counterparts (from LOONA, Red Velvet, and Twice respectively)

To be honest??? I picked the name Yerin because it sounds so pretty to me

This series is as long as NOVEL! Deadass a fucking NOVELLLLL! like what??? I can’t believe I managed to write roughly 100k words wtf.

Seulgi was initially going to be considerably more important as an antagonist, but then it felt like it was going to be feeding too much into Hoseok’s character than help the actual story progress so I did away with her history with Yoongi (and Hoseok)

The spotify playlist for the series is actual set up into three different parts (four songs, an interlude, four songs, an interlude, four songs) and the purpose of this was to separate the songs into characters. The first four songs are about Jimin’s character growth, the second set of four songs are about Y/N’s, and the third four songs are about Yoongi’s. In some ways, if you looked at the lyrics for the song you may have been able to gauge a lot of the plot that way.

The name for the series, Veil, comes from the idea that something is covered by a cloth that is not completely opaque, but still blurs the perception of what is beneath it. 

I don’t remember exactly how I got the premise for this idea, but I knew that I wanted to make a Yoongi story. So that being said, this was always intended to be a Yoongi story, I wasn’t swayed in one way or another to pick the ending couple.

Although, my friend told me recently that after hearing about my plans for Jimin’s character in the last few chapters that she wanted him to end up with Y/N LOL; I think that’s mainly because, in this story’s universe, the song Jimin released at the festival was Promise, and in this story he wrote that song with the intention of supporting Y/N and also telling her that he wants her to be her own power source through all she’s gone through (I want you to be your light, baby, you should be your light)

Because I’m actually really fond of Jimin’s character, I was thinking about making a one-shot prequel about him and Y/N’s relationship long before Yoongi.

The Audi that Yoongi drives costs about $200,000. I needed to tell you that, just like I needed to give him that expensiveass car. Why? It’s h*t.

I couldn’t rationalize Yoongi or Hoseok becoming the CEO of the company they made together, because ultimately they still want to be performers lol. They’re more like founders, and have a lot of say in the board. 

Jeongguk, in this story, is a part of a band with Yugyeom, Mingyu, and Minghao. What a combination lol.

Taehyung is a lawyer for idols generally, but he starts to work more for Yoongi and Hoseok’s endeavors by the end.

In my mind, Jimin eventually went on to get signed at the same company Jeongguk and Seulgi work at. He would’ve been pretty successful there.

Also, I doubt that Y/N’s royalties with her songs at SoundWave would’ve been kept by the end of the series. Realistically, she would have to be credited, but she would no longer receive money for them, so she really did have to start over in a way.

Yoongi’s hair was always blonde until that scene where he went to dye it back to his natural hair color; this was a very freeing moment for his character.

In Y/N’s conversations with Yerin and Jimin, Yoongi was consistently just..,.,,,.,. chilling in the background..../., in the case of Jimin conversation he was making pancakes lmao. What a guy.

Again, if you’ve read this whole story thank you SOOOOOO MUCH! You’ve basically read an entire book in reading this fic, and that is unbelievable to me who never would’ve figured I’d have been able to make this entire thing! Thank you again so much for reading! See you in the next story! 🥰❤️

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: January 2021

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of January 2021 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Once again, we knew that Donald Trump wasn’t going to take losing well, but when a legion of his most boneheaded supporters storm the Capitol demanding the election result be overturned because a certain thin-skinned orange gobshite had spent several weeks screaming about electoral fraud and, by the way, also set the date of January 6th for some major event, even Mike Pence couldn’t sanction his buffoonery any longer - especially when said buffoonery involved him saying “I love you” to people who were guilty of sedition and, by the way, murder - all of which led to him finally, finally, getting the boot from various social media platforms

...all while Lauren Boebert appeared to be trying to help out the insurrectionists by livetweeting the location of Nancy Pelosi, presumably because Boebert forgot about that Glock she claims to take to work with her every day and was looking for a convenient meat shield, which naturally has nothing to do with her tweeting the day would be like 1776 earlier that morning

...but the real victim in all of this was Melania Trump as it interrupted a photo shoot she was doing, which she somehow thought it was a good idea to mention several days later in a statement riddled with two opinions: “both sides” and “me, me, me” which shows she didn’t realise the optics of rearranging the china as Washington burned around her

...but according to Laura Kuenssberg it was merely a “scuffle” at Congress, as opposed to an organised group attempting to stage an armed insurrection against the government complete with at least one member carrying zip ties

...and finally, we had Ian Austin reminded us that he’s still alive by saying the exact same thing would have happened in the UK with Jeremy Corbyn supporters storming parliament, as if that happened in the four years Corbyn was wishing Austin would go away, then did go away, but sadly didn’t go away

Once again the Tory government think they know better than virologists, epidemiologists and pharmacists with their one-two punch of thinking they can just mix and match the various vaccines available rather than give people two doses of the same vaccine, but they further weaken any chance of vaccination succeeding by ignoring Pfizer’s recommendation the second dose be given within three weeks of the first by adopting a policy of the second dose is given three months later, and it it’s just as likely to be the less effective but cheaper Oxford vaccine they get a dose of

...swiftly followed by the BBC did their bit to encourage people to get vaccinated by reporting a story of a nurse getting a dose of Covid six weeks after her first vaccination jab not by reporting how she was three weeks overdue for the second dose (or, if you prefer, six weeks before her second one) but simply saying that people vaccinated can get Covid, which goes beyond the BBC’s sociopathic inability to criticise Tory fuckups into being downright fucking dangerous - as does their putting sentient testicle Toby Young on Newsnight to say how we’re all overreacting as it's not as bad as all that

Of all the things proven liar Boris Johnson should have said when the UK’s Covid death toll officially passed 100,000 (as opposed to unofficially, which would have been last December), “We have done our best” was not it, because if their best includes not going into lockdown in order to protect landlords, having Dominic Cummings dictate herd immunity in spite the fact that you need vaccinated people for it to work, refusing to have quarantine at airports until July, thinking it would be a bright idea to tell people it’s their patriotic duty to go to the pub, giving them £10 vouchers to go to restaurants, putting children going back to school ahead of any concerns about every single school could become a petri dish and countless other horrifically mismanaged instances, then we should be kept up at night dreading what their worst would be

The fact that Chartwells were given a contract to provide free school dinners with a budget of £30, and the supposed lunches that arrived had £5 worth of food in them which begged the obvious question where the other £25 went, is appalling - but not surprising, as the Tory government gave them the contract and, equally unsurprising, Chartwells was founded by a Tory donor, and equally unsurprising their response to their grift being exposed was to tell all the public school clients they cater to a pack of lies while hoping nobody found out about them doing so...which worked about as well as you can guess

Something possessed the EU to ramp up the row over the AstraZenica vaccine not passing the rigorous tests for over-65s by threatening to trigger Article 16 and limit the number of vaccines that Northern Ireland received, and that something was it was hopelessly misguided as it allowed the Tories to get their hapless response to the pandemic off the front pages for a few days and let the Leave headbangers say this is why we left the EU...in spite this threat would have never been in play if we were still in the EU

There is no way to make jokes about Kellyanne Conway posting what was, in effect, revenge porn photos of her 16-year old daughter, because that sentence is so far out there that it is borderline incomprehensible

In the space of less than twenty seconds proven liar Boris Johnson claimed that there was no prior warning of the new strain of Covid, he had the SAGE paper stating it was coming which was handed to him last September held up in his face, and then said the government acted accordingly.  Yes, you read that right, he claimed the government acted accordingly to something they had no prior warning about, which is literally impossible, all in the space of ten seconds

In the latest hire by the BBC which is cause for both comment and concern, they announced their new chairman would be Tory donor Richard Sharp, whose credentials for the position are being Rishi Sunak’s ex-boss at Goldman Sachs, donating at least £400,000 to the Tory party, and having no background in journalism whatsoever

Smirking bully Priti Patel said that the UK should have closed its borders in March 2020 in order to prevent the spread of Covid.  Presumably she forgot that she was a.) Home Secretary in Marsh 2020 so could have done that, and b.) Home Secretary when she said that the borders should have been closed as that indicates she doesn’t know what’s going on

The terrifying world which Alison Pearson lives in has now started to cross over into our reality due to her responding to one of the four people she hasn’t blocked on Twitter calling her what she is - namely a liar - by siccing the Torygraph’s lawyers on them claiming libel, doing the usual cry bully tactic of learning the person she is harassing works for GlaxoSmithKline so promptly went to their CEO demanding he be fired, and howling about the hate campaign being waged against her - while telling the person, who was saying he was thinking suicidal thoughts after the pile-on that Pearson had instigated even after he had deleted the tweet and apologised , that “You’re finished”

Someday in the future, scholars will study Ted Cruz responding to Biden rejoining the Paris Climate Agreement within hours of getting his feet under the Oval Office desk by pontificating about how terrible it is that Biden is more interested in the citizens of Paris than the jobless of Pittsburgh and wonder just how somebody who doesn't know why the Paris Climate Agreement was named the Paris Climate Agreement ever got to be a senator

...and judging by how Lauren Boebert also latched onto this brainless rhetoric, not only can it be asked how she got to be a senator when she had the opportunity to actually realise Cruz’s mistake, she also begs the question how she can be a senator after her publicly trying to use Nancy Pelosi as a meat shield during the Capitol riots

Unifying force Keir Starmer stated that Labour should be devoting their time to fighting the Tory government rather than fighting court cases, somehow forgetting that by breaking the guidelines of the EHRC report (which he pledged to follow without question months before it was published) is the reason that they’re fighting court cases, and just so happens to be the reason why people are asking how a meeting attended by Starmer, Angela Rayner, Len McCluskey and others either didn't have a single person taking notes, which is David Evans’ entire defence, or they did take notes by quite conveniently lost them

Oh boy, did Wall Street cheerleaders not take it well when r/WallStreetbets exposed to the entire world that the stock market is little more than a game people play with other people’s money - because the teams the Wall Street cheerleaders support started losing, and all it took was a few Redditors investing in Gamestop and Bed Bath & Beyond 

Nice of Shaun Bailey to remind everyone that he’s a Tory by giving his suggestion for how the homeless could get on the property ladder, namely by saving a minimum of £5000

Clearly Marjorie Taylor Greene didn’t get the memo about the Streisand Effect, as the first thing she did after taking her seat in the House of Representatives was go on a mass deleting spree of Facebook posts - which only served to draw attention to her video saying that Nancy Pelosi be executed for treason, her track record of spreading conspiracy theories about the Parkland and Sandy Hook shootings, and her claims that a Jewish space laser is responsible for the 2018 California wildfires

Insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips got her 2021 off to a good start by tweeting out that, as Britait has happened, we should shut up and accept it.  To the surprise of nobody other than insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips, this led to a lot of people saying that, no, they will not accept an advisory referendum somehow being bolted onto the Ten Commandments, especially as numerous things that were promised wouldn’t happen such as a border in the Irish Sea, leaving Erasmus, losing freedom of movement, leaving the Common Market have all happened

It is wrong to say that smirking bully Priti Patel has lost 150,000 police files.  The actual figure is closer to 400,000 - which begs the obvious question as to what those files were, for example if those files also happened to fall under the same category as the ones that 55-year old ex-minister Mark Francois might want to have disappear for the sake of convenience

At last CD Projekt Red took some responsibility for Clusterpunk 2077 being such a cyberfuck...if by “taking responsibility” you mean “taking responsibility, dumping it all on the QA testers, and saying that everyone should blame them for everything” - and then with perfect comedic timing CD Projekt Red released an update for Clusterpunk 2077 that was so broken they had to release a hotfix for their broken patch

Expenses-fiddler Robert Jenrick decided that the most important thing to protect in the United Kingdom at this exact moment in time is...statues.  Not key workers, not the vulnerable, not any human life at all.  Statues.

So either Rafael Behr wrote a column for The Guardian where he tried to blame Jeremy Corbyn for his heart attack which saw Guardian higher-ups remove that passage from their print edition but forgot to remove it from the online version of the article, or The Guardian deliberately left the passage in the online version of the column in order to get some form of engagement from rage clicks while allowing Behr to act as if he is suffering some great injustice

Of course it wouldn’t take long for Steve Baker to try and claim some spurious victory for Britait, namely him claiming that tampon tax he spent so long fighting against being abolished is proof of the sunlit uplands of our post-EU nation...which ignores the fact that a.) It had nothing to do with the EU in the first place, and b.) The fact that Baker voted to keep it in place in a 2015 Commons vote

Employer of the year WWE went for an interesting twofer, as one minute they were proudly stating that WrestleMania would go ahead with a prospective 30,000 in attendance without any concerns for social distancing or any other Covid preventative measures, and the next telling the wrestlers on their roster that they would not be supplying them with Covid vaccines at the exact same time the NBA were floating the idea of providing vaccines for all their players

Make no mistake, the criticism that Erik Lamela, Sergio Reguilon, Giovani Lo Celso and Manuel Lanzini have received due to the four of them flouting lockdown regulations to attend a New Year’s party is justified - however, the fact that Duncan Castles tried to chase a headline by claiming that Lo Celso and Lamela had tested positive for Covid in a swiftly-deleted tweet is a new low for the noted barrel scraping rumour monger

Self-awareness sceptic Laurence Fox was entirely predictable in his response to the news that talkRADIO had been booted from Youtube for repeated violations of their ToS, specifically the part about spreading Covid misinformation, screaming the usual things about being “cancelled” - and then, within hours, responded to the BBC announcing a plan of educational programming to help during Lockdown III by saying he will be shielding his children from being “indoctrinated” by the BBC’s “left-wing bias” - which not only means he’s cancelling the BBC, but also had people remember that Billie Piper has custody of his children so it's not like he can even enforce his rules on what his children can and cannot watch

...by the way, Fox said nothing about Lord Sumption appearing on the BBC’s Question Time (the same show where failed actor on the grift Laurence Fox announced his new career as a clueless right wing irritant) where he told a woman with bowel cancer that her life wasn’t valuable, it was merely less valuable as she has less life left.  Yes, that is eugenics getting free airtime on the BBC, thanks for noticing

Somehow the best choice of words the BBC could find when reporting the death of Phil Spector was “talented but flawed” as if murder is some character flaw instead of, oh I don’t know, a criminal activity?

You would have thought that Twitch would have simply retired the PogChamp emote permanently in the wake of Gootecks going all insurrectionist, but no, instead they thought of having a rotating cycle of emotes of various creators, in spite of those creators telling them this would be a bad idea - and those creators were proven right when Critical bard was inundated with racist and homophobic abuse in his chat that led him to close his social media profiles when he was selected for rotation, with Twitch doing fuck all about it

Fashion editor no matter what she claims she is Hadley Freeman had a really clever take about The Sopranos...actually, no she didn’t, she had an absurd belief that it’s the exact same show as Sex in the City but people overlook it Because Misogyny, and when she was lambasted for missing the point so badly she had noted dipshit David Baddiel rushing in to her rescue to mock those getting “triggered” by her insipid take while saying he never liked The Sopranos because, as he isn't an Italian-American mobster, the show did not speak to him - in other words, he made himself a subject of equal mockery

...but there was no sign of Baddiel when Hadley Freeman then jumped on the BidenErasedWomen bandwagon alongside the TERFs of Twitter as soon as Biden got his feet under the desk, which also happened to show hard centrist extremist Freeman say how she thought Trump did far more for women than Biden ever has, which as takes go is so bad that the best explanation is that she briefly forgot the difference between the words “for” and “to”, before she then deleted the tweet and tried to deny ever posting it with increasingly nonsensical explanations that rapidly looked uncannily like gaslighting

...although David Baddiel wasn’t quite done being a bellend, as he was soon yukking it up with professional victim Rachel Riley about his latest book which accuses the entire progressive left of antisemitism

The oppressed underclass known as Manchester United fans really showed their colours, first by responding to a loss to Sheffield United by sending racial abuse to Axel Tuanzebe and Anthony Martial on social media, and a couple of weeks later responded to a draw with Arsenal by sending racial abuse to Marcus Rashford, because apparently when your team drops points the most important thing is to look for which member of your team you can racially abuse

And finally, oh so finally, we have Donald Trump and his discovery of electoral fraud at last - electoral fraud that consisted of Donald Trump calling Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger demanding he change the result and all he needs is Raffensperger to “find” 11,780 votes while also saying that he had proof of vote-counting machines being removed early...and when told they were still in Georgia, changed his lie to say the inner workings had been removed without anyone noticing.  By the way, the only reason anyone knows about this is because Raffensperger told Trump that he wouldn’t release the call to the public if Trump didn't say anything about it - so, of course, the Orange Overlord took to twitter, ran his mouth, and the Washington Post had one hell of an exclusive as a result

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC  ≽ III.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 8.2k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The remainder of my night was spent in a dirty, cheap motel across town. I couldn’t really afford anything better. I even dared to return to my father’s home to pick up some of my old clothes. There wasn’t much leftover either.

I was both, mentally and materially exhausted. Despite this, sleep hadn't seemed like a reasonable option for me. Instead, I laid on the stiff mattress and dreaded the morning light. 

Morning came all the same, through the broken blinds of the room. 

The moments between having my eyes closed, and opening them, were lost time. I had no sense of how long I had been laying there. Hours must have gone by.

That was until my phone rang at 10 am exactly. My limbs felt heavy at the first movement toward the phone. It was the phone call that I was waiting for. The one that would determine my next move. 

"Agent (Y/L/N), did you rest well?" 

I placed my cell on speakerphone and tossed it on the crummy bed. 

"As good as could be expected," I answered, swinging my legs over the bed edge. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," He didn't have to be so polite, I thought. I tested the strength of my legs and stood on them. "Do you need me to fill you in on the Camilo Cartel?" 

"I'm familiar, I helped the administration track their movements into California," I explained my prior knowledge while walking toward the bag I packed.  I scavenged through the outdated clothing I wore in my youth. "I had no idea his men moved so far North already."

"Miguel Camilo is an ambitious man." I settled on an old t-shirt. "He's been flooding his heroin and cocaine into almost all of the California prisons."  

"Except for Pelican Bay which is still controlled by the PB." The Pure Brotherhood was the largest gang of Neo-Nazis on the West coast. They controlled the drug trade until the Camilo Cartel began to expand out of Northern Mexico. "Three of them came to shoot up my father's house. They killed a boy and injured four other people." 

"That was just a warning. They aren't happy that Bangtan is dealing guns to both them and the cartel." 

My father started running guns for his Russian connections early on in the club's life. It was just supposed to be a short favor but the money spoke too loudly. At the time, the PB was heavily trafficking drugs through Blackburn from Pelican Bay. However, they made an agreement, that why would stop dealing in Blackburn, in exchange for Bangtan selling them guns.

"I'm sure you are aware, that since the settlement in 2018, Pelican Bay has become the service network for the drug distribution from California to its surrounding states." 

That was a sick understatement.

"The Pacific Northwest is drowning in methamphetamine because of the PB's connection at Pelican Bay," I responded, rather sorely. It was a combination of anger, knowing that the club had gotten themselves directly involved. Also, a rage drove from personal experience. 

I tossed the clothes I had collected on the bed, alongside my phone. Agent Romero was silent for a time, following the tone of my tongue. 

"I was informed you took part in the one-year investigation that saw the raid of 10 drug dens in Seattle last year." His voice became finer. It was almost as if he was being cautious with his information. "You made the connection between the dealers and the PB." 

 I took a seat on the foot of the bed and remained soundless. I didn't want to take the credit for that.

"Everyone already suspected it led back to them..." I refused to.

"But you knew that the firearms that were confiscated, during the raid, had come from Bangtan." 

I didn't expect him to understand why I wasn't proud of this. How could I be? When I had to see the consequences of the club's activities outside of Blackburn. The DEA confiscated 37 pounds of meth and 27 pounds of heroin that day. We really did only care for our own. The rest of the world could burn.  

"Agent (Y/L/N)?" He called. 

I hummed as a reply. 

"You are our best hope. I need to know that you can go through with this," He said sternly. But I understood, there could be no room for hesitation in an operation like this. "Not only because of your personal involvement with the club but because of your history of drug addiction."  

My life had taken many unexpected turns after I moved to Seattle. I fought against everything I knew and had an extreme appetite for destruction. If you had the money, then Seattle had your disease. Slipping into darkness had never been so easy.  

"I've been clean for five years, agent," I reminded him. 

I had a regularly scheduled drug test every 90 days through a hair sample. It was a rare exception to the DEA, but my personal experience was beneficial to them. "I also haven't been in contact with the club in over seven years." 

I stood back on my feet, taking a hold of the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. 

"I understand. For now, I need you to stay close to the club." I took the phone in one hand and my clothes in the other. "I'll be flying in from Virginia tomorrow, we will discuss further details, in person."

"Yes, sir."

He hung up the phone after that. I was left to unwind, once again.

This time I stepped toward the bathroom, leaving the stuff in my hands on the countersink. The bathroom was, at the very least, clean compared to the rest of the room. 

I turned on the water to the shower and gave it time to heat up. I continued to undress myself, anticipating the sweet relief of the hot water. With the remainder of my clothing scattered on the floor, I heard my phone vibrate behind me. 

I imagined that it was agent Romero. However, when I looked at the screen I found the message coming from an unsaved number. The same unsaved number that Namjoon called me from two days ago. 

I didn't expect to be starting work this soon. 

-

The second I turned off the engine on my bike, Namjoon was already waiting for me at the doorway of his home. I didn't see any other bikes in the driveway, except for Jaeeun's car. 

I was honestly hoping that she wouldn't be home. 

"You're late." Was the first thing out of his mouth.

"I came from across town- there was traffic," I explained, even though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes past three. 

He moved aside and let me step first into his house. The front door opened to his living room. There I was met with an unfortunate appearance by Jaeeun. There was only an everlasting smirk or frown on this woman's face. When it came to me, a frown was her default. 

"You said this was important?" I turned around to see Namjoon closing the door. 

"Yeah," Namjoon quietly remained, his fingers brushed their way through his hair. There was a stillness in the room that no one seemed to want to face. 

All I could do was stand there and watch as he calmly stepped further into the room. Before I could ask him to elaborate, there was another set of footsteps that came in from the hallway. 

"Ms.(Y/n)," 

I came face to face with my father's attorney. He received me with a friendly smile, extending his hand out to me in the process. 

"Richard," I was startled by his visit. 

"I'm sorry to meet again under these circumstances." His presence was eerily similar to when my mother passed away. Then his appearance began to make sense. 

"My father's will?" 

Richard gently nodded his head, the look of sympathy easily displayed on his features. He slowly gestured both Namjoon and me to join Jaeeun on the couch. 

Namjoon offered himself the seat between his mother and I. While Richard took the single armchair facing our direction. A round coffee table stood between us. Richard drew a leather briefcase from the floor and placed it on the glass surface. 

There was a feeling of dread emitting from my chest, making it feel heavy and stiff. My palms ran over the fabric of my jeans at the sound of the briefcase latches opened. 

He slipped out a single piece of paper, the delicate material folded like a letter. Richard cleared his throat, 

"The purpose of our meeting here today is the reading of the final testament of the deceased. Including, the distributions of assets and beneficiary claims." He took a moment to look at each of us. "With all of your permission, I will begin," 

We all gave our approval for him to begin. 

I didn't know what to expect. 

I, resident of the state of California, county of Blackburn, and being sound of mind and memory; do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my last will and testament. 

At the time of executing this will, I have widowed and have remarried to Jaeeun Kim. Also at the time of this will, I recognize only two legitimate children. 

(Y/F/N). My biological daughter from my first marriage, now deceased. 

Namjoon Kim. My legal son from my current marriage to Jaeeun Kim. 

For my wife, I leave you with the remaining balance of our joint bank account, as well, as our matrimonial home. All titles and deeds will be changed under your name as the sole owner of the property. 

For my son, after being a long time employee and business partner, I leave you as the owner of The House Of Cards. 

Finally, for my daughter, I leave you with the remaining balance of my separate savings account, as well, as my 2003 Harley-Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport and my 1990 Harley-Davidson Fatboy. 

When I turned 18, there was nothing more that I wanted than that old Fatboy. I never thought that finally getting it would feel so meaningless. 

-

I didn't plan to be out for long after being at Namjoon's house. We didn't say much to each other after Richard had left, I even left the house without any insults from Jaeeun. However, before leaving, Namjoon asked me to meet him at the bar to take a look at my father's bikes. 

When I arrived in the parking lot of the bar, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were in mid-conversation around their bikes. I parked my Harley right beside Jimin's. 

"Hey," I called out to them. My fingers clicked off the straps of my helmet and let it hang around the handlebar. 

When I stepped off my bike, I was instantly greeted by Jimin, who unexpectedly pulled me into a hug. I was somewhat taken back, his arm was hooked tightly around my waist. Of course, I returned the embrace, but at the same time, made awkward eye contact with Taehyung. 

"What's going on?" I asked a bit flustered as Jimin began to pull away. 

"Namjoon called us in," Jungkook replied. There was a smirk in his words as if he knew something that I didn't. I glanced at Taehyung, who remained silent by his side. I never did understand Jungkook's sense of humor. I brushed it off nevertheless. 

"He told us to bring your old man's Harley," Jimin also stated. He stepped with me, as I came closer into the semicircle that they were gathered in. I turned my head and looked at him rather confused.

"Bring it from where? The shop?" I questioned. 

I watched Jimin lean against his bike. "I thought it would be at the pound,"

He pushed strands of his hair away from his forehead, taking a moment to look away from me and waited to speak. I could see the gears begin to turn in his head and he glanced at the other boys for guidance. 

No one said anything.

"His Dyna got roughed up a few weeks ago- he left it in the shop for Taehyung and me to fix," He carefully explained. "He was riding his Fatboy the day of the accident." 

My life seemed to be a never-ending joke of irony. The sudden feeling of gloom overcame me prompting me to switch my gaze to the pavement. The bike that I had wanted was the bike that he had left me, but it was also the bike he had died in. I didn't say much after that. 

We stood in silence together for a few more minutes. That was until Taehyung's phone rang and notified us that Namjoon was waiting for us in the garage. 

When we got there, the garage was opened, to a truck parked in reverse. The white truck was branded with the name of Jimin's old man’s auto shop. The sound of the passenger door slamming was followed by Yoenjun coming around the corner. The young prospect moved quickly to unlatch the backdoors of the trailer. 

I advanced toward the truck, somewhat, anticipating to get a look at my father's Dyna. 

Jungkook came up to lend Yoenjun a hand with the ramp. The loud piece of metal came crashing down on the asphalt. If this had been anyone else's bike, Yoenjun would have just ridden it from the shop. But they were being extra cautious out of respect. 

Yoenjun came out of the dingy trailer with his hands guiding the bike down the ramp. The black beauty reflected shapes of the fluorescent lights. I stared at the beautiful wide front of the Dyna that reminded me why I got my Softail. 

"What do you think?" Yeonjun asked while he pushed down the kickstand, allowing the bike to stand on its own. 

"It looks brand new," I said, running my hand over the cold black metal of the fuel tank. "What was wrong with it?"

I asked, peering over to Jimin and Taehyung. 

"The headlight was broken," Jimin revealed. "There were also some scratches and dents." 

I nodded my head. I couldn't see any evidence of scratches, much less dents, that were difficult to get rid of without the right tools. 

"Prospect," Namjoon called from behind me. Yoenjun's eyes shot up in question. "Did you get the Fatboy out of the pound?" 

"Yes, pres," He said, quickly moving his feet back up the ramp. 

My eyes wandered into the darkness of the back of the trailer. I couldn’t see anything but I heard the hunk of metal rattling against the wall. I could see why Namjoon called Jungkook here, he ran up to help the prospect with the weight of the bike. 

I wasn't prepared for what I  was about to witness. 

My heart dropped into my stomach at the sight. The front of the bike was completely smashed inward. Jungkook was supporting it from the front, while Yoenjun steered it from the back. The entire fork and front wheel were crushed to the left. So far deep, that it even rammed into the gas tank. 

"Oh god..." My hands tried to mask the cry that fell from my mouth. The tears fell faster from my eyes than I could acknowledge them. 

"Hey," Jimin came to my aid. He rested his hand on my back and tried to comfort me.  

"I'm honestly not sure how salvageable it is, (Y/n)." Namjoon also walked toward me. I felt him linger over my shoulder, all I could do was merely glance his way as I tried to control my composure. "Maybe Jimin and Taehyung could try to-"

"No," I managed to take in a shaky breath, running my fingers along the wet stains of my cheeks. "I can fix it." 

I said mostly to myself. I had this irrepressible urge in the back of my mind to repair the bike myself. My father had taught me everything I needed to know about motorcycles. This was my chance to prove myself. 

"I might need some help though."

I was well aware that this would at least be a two-person job, the poor thing couldn't even stand on its own. There were also tools that I didn't have at my current disposal. 

"Whatever you need, love," Jimin whispered, his hand slowly slipping off my back. 

I suddenly realized how close Namjoon and Jimin were standing to me. I was feeling a little enclosed between the two of them. So I took a moment to excuse myself from the group. 

My back rested into the warm redbrick of the building. A deep breath of late summer air filled my lungs. I could almost view the sun starting to head toward the horizon. Its surrounding sky was beginning to orange with heat. 

I was standing just outside of the garage. Everyone had gone back into the bar to get a drink. Except, for Yoenjun who the boys had sent back to the auto shop.   

It seemed every day that I spent here was just another miserable recognition of my castaway. I hated feeling this way. I hated feeling like all I could do was complain about my father's abandonment. But goddamn it, he was all that I had. 

I thought I was all he had too. 

I imagined maybe one day he would tell me that he regretted sending me away. But, even in his will, he left me with nothing to stay here for; not his bar, not my mother's house, just some money, and a motorcycle to run away on. 

"You alright?" 

Jimin always seemed to catch me in the middle of a crying session. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, pushing myself off the wall. I forced him a smile and decided to prompt another subject. "I hope you're as good as a mechanic as you say you are."

He returned my smile, a more genuine one, and followed me with his eyes as I moved back into the garage. 

"Me?" He challenged, as we both stepped back toward the damaged bike, circling it. "I've been working in a shop for five years, what have you been doing?" 

I shot him a glare and chuckled at his tease.

"Who do you think has been taking care of my bike all this time? The mechanics in Seattle are a joke." He laughed at my words, not doubting them for a moment. 

I watched him watch me. His round lips held in an endearing smile as his eyes stared into me. I felt, at that moment, the same as he did. It was nice to spend moments like this, after all this time.  

"Besides," I said, feeling bashful in his gaze. "I've worked on this bike a million times." 

We had the Fatboy mounted on a hydraulic stand to get a better look below. Some of the pipes underneath were also severely damaged. But as long as the frame was still intact, I was pretty sure we could pull it off. 

"We should start by removing the fork and wheel," Jimin said, his eyes wandering over the details of the bike. "I think that way we'll have more room to make sure that the frame isn't too damaged."

I agreed. 

This model of Fatboy had a completely different frame than its modern counterpart. Trying to buy a new frame would easily cost over a grand.

"You know," Jimin sounded unsure. "this might cost more to fix than it's worth, (Y/n)."

I was well aware that it was reasonably true. However, my mind was already made up.

"I don't care what it costs."  

Because I had nothing else. Repairing this bike was going to be my only sense of peace for the next couple of weeks. 

-

Jimin stayed and helped me get started. Removing the front of this bike turned out to take a lot longer than expected. Jimin was a great help, and I had to admit, he probably knew a little more than I did. We ran into a lot of difficulties due to the metal that was bent together. We had to remove it without causing more damage to the parts that it was pushed into. Jimin was pleasant company, nonetheless. 

"I can't believe you dated her," I laughed under my breath, trying to keep my hands steady. 

"Okay, 'date' is a strong word," He attempted to justify himself but it was too late in my head. "I was intoxicated 80% of the time I was with her." 

The Allen head screwdriver I was using to loosen the lower triple fasteners almost slipped from my hands. Jimin's hand gripped around the bottom of the right fork, ready for it to come undone.

"That doesn't matter!" I was laughing so hard that my eyes watered. "The damage is done, Jimin. Who knows what kind of crotch-eating virus she gave you."

"Hey, I'll have you know that she got regular check-ups."

I hummed and rolled my eyes. I proceeded to also loosen the fastener on the top of the fork. I looked down at Jimin, to make sure his grip was still tight before freeing the fork. It should have slid right out the moment the screw came out but it didn't. 

"Damn," He said, carefully, removing his hand. 

"It must be jammed." I groaned, stepping back and wiping my forehead of any sweat. Jimin straightened himself out too.

"We can just find a way to remove it tomorrow," I sighed. I was honestly already worn out, and ready to call it quits for the night. However, determined, Jimin took a closer look at the fork. 

I watched as he, without a word, kneeled to dig around the toolbox. He was attentive as he picked out a flat-bladed screwdriver and came back to the bike. Jimin pushed the screwdriver in between the gap of the lower triple.

"Try to pull on it." He muttered, to me as he was using all of his strength to loosen the bent metal. 

I wrapped my hand around the metal rod and tried to tug on it. It made a rasping sound as it was starting to move. Then the entire weight came undone, it almost slipped out of my hand, but Jimin was fast too, also holding on to it. 

"Wow~ Jimin~" I was pleasantly surprised. 

"I know what I'm doing, love," Jimin smirked, proud of himself, he took the heavy rod from my hand. 

A relieved sigh left his nose as he placed the fork next to the previous one we removed. Along with other parts of the bike, like the wheel, that was close to unrecognizable. 

I reached into my pocket and checked the time. 

The effects of not sleeping the night before were starting to come through. It was barely 8 o'clock and I was exhausted. 

"I hope you're hungry because I just ordered some food," Jimin called to me. I looked up from my phone to see him showing me his food delivery app. 

"Oh, Jimin," I grumbled, putting my phone back in my pocket. "I was just about to head out."

He raised his brow at me in questionable doubt.

"You already ate?" He maintained his eyes on me while cleaning his greasy hand on the hem of his white t-shirt. 

"No," My eyes accidentally caught a glimpse of his abdomen, which was shockingly healthy underneath. "But I'm not very hungry." 

Worried that I was staring, I switched my attention to another part of the room. Jimin appeared to move close as a result. 

"Come on, it's Chinese food from that place you like." He insisted. 

I would have continued to refuse him, although my stomach appeared to respond to the contrary. It rumbled at the memory of the Chinese food, causing Jimin to laugh at the sound.

"I guess I can eat," I admitted in defeat. 

Jimin nodded his head and pushed the sleeves of his t-shirt over his shoulder.  It appeared that he was making advances toward the door but I called him. "Do you mind if we eat here though? I don't really want to be around other people." 

I wasn't sure if Namjoon had left with the others, or if he was just on the other side of the door. I was just enjoying Jimin's company without worrying about anything else. 

"Sure, I don't mind." I was comforted to hear him say so. 

Underneath a table, I found a couple of crate boxes. I carefully kicked two of them into the middle of the room. My aching legs relieved to finally sit down after three long hours. Jimin had his back turned to me as he washed his hands in the sink along the wall.

"Are you staying at Namjoon's house?" He suddenly asked, trying to make more conversation. 

"No, thank god." A short chuckle came from my lips. Taking notice of the dirt on my hands, I ran my palms over the fabric of my jeans. "I don't need Jaeeun’s cold glare watching me every minute." 

I could hear Jimin smirk.

"Yeah, she's intimidating as all hell." He stated. Turning back to face my direction, he shook the water off his hands, droplets falling to the cement floor. "You guys still aren't getting along?" 

"You know we've never had," I said a little bitterly. Recalling back to all the time I spent in high school complaining about her to him.

"I know, but I thought that was just like a teenage thing." Jimin eyed the counter to his right, where he had previously left his cut to remain. 

"Definitely not after the conversation we had yesterday." I jeered.  

"She threatened you?" Jimin sounded surprised as he was slipping the leather around his shoulders.

"Let's just say, it was a passionate discussion," I hummed, deciding it wasn’t even worth mentioning and that it was time for me to wash my hands as well.

The plastic sink in the back used to be white, now it was grayed and falling apart. I tried my best not to touch it as I turned on the faucet and rubbed some dish soap in my hand. 

"Is that why you left last night?"

 My hands slowed down at his question. I didn't like the idea of having to lie to Jimin. He was the only person who made me feel like I could depend on him. That meant a great deal to me however, I didn't really have any other alternative. 

"I didn't feel very welcomed once you left," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. I continued scrubbing underneath my fingernails. "I also didn't feel like celebrating Namjoon's coronation."

It was a joke but I knew Jimin could hear the slight sourness in my tone. I tried to shake off as much of the water from my hands before turning back to Jimin. "Did Hoseok give you a rough night with his new VP patch?" 

I joked while reaching for a roll of paper towels under the sink. 

"No," He said calmly, "But Taehyung sure did." 

I wasn't quite sure if I had heard him correctly. Looking at his facial expression was meaningless as he remained unbothered.

"Taehyung?" I asked for clarification.

"That's right," He sang as I walked back in his direction, taking the same seat as before. "Namjoon wanted someone different than him, Taehyung is as different as you can get." 

I had never thought to compare the two. I doubt if I even knew enough about Taehyung to relate him to Namjoon. 

"Does it bother you?" I was curious.

"Taehyung being VP? Nah." Jimin answered. "I'm actually pretty relieved,"

Jimin stopped to lick his lip, thinking about what he was about to say. "There is no doubt in my mind that Namjoon will be a good leader. He's smart as hell, but sometimes- I think he can lose sight of things."

I was deeply intrigued by what Jimin thought. His opinion was unbiased, and he only spoke for what was best for the club. "Taehyung has never been afraid to call him out on it. Taehyung and your old man, that is."

The Vice President of a club was the middle ground between the President and the members of the charter. Any questions, comments or concerns from the other members are brought to the VP's attention. It was hard for me to imagine my father ever disagreeing with Namjoon. He never did so in my presence, anyway. I wondered when that all began to change. I wondered if it had anything to do with the drugs.

Jimin noticed that mentioning my father brought me down easily, he saw me lost in my own head, so he changed the subject. 

"You know," Jimin pushed himself off the box seat. "I know why Jaeeun doesn't like you." 

"Oh?" I smiled gently. This ought to be good. "Enlighten me, please."

Even though I could name a few reasons myself, Jimin always had an interesting perspective. 

He returned my smile and decided to let the anticipation linger in the air. I watched him slowly walk toward the refrigerator that sat in the corner of the room. He pulled the door opened and leaned in to retrieve two bottles of beer that rested at the very bottom shelf. He turned around to face me and shut the door with his foot. 

"You two are exactly the same,"

I looked at him unimpressed, with such a simple answer. Also, a little offended by his assumption.

"Hear me out," He requested while holding the bottles between his fingers, using his free hand to dig into his pocket. "Jaeeun is intimidated by your character. She's constantly trying to put you down because she knows you don't let things go- just like she doesn't. " 

"Who says I don't let things go?" Jimin laughed at my question.

"(Y/n), just yesterday you said you've waited seven years to come back home." 

Ouch. 

Jimin pulled a lighter from his jeans. He used the end of it as leverage to snap open one of the bottles. "You only threaten someone that you feel threatened by." 

Jimin offered me the beer, and I took it thankfully. His words sunk in.

"Well, you know what they say," I pushed my lips against the glass, taking a large gulp.

"What?" He asked while sitting back beside me.

"A beaten dog never forgets," I said earnestly.

Jimin stared at me for what seemed like an entire minute, but ultimately, he tipped his bottle toward me. 

"That, we don't." 

He said as I met him halfway. Our bottles clanged together before we took another drink. 

"There is actually something I've been wanting to ask you," He suddenly said after clearing his throat.

"What is it?" 

"Yesterday... You make it sound as if you've wanted to come back this entire time," I was dreading this question. "Why didn't you?"

How could I even begin to explain to him such a story? "I know you had problems with your family and maybe that's why you left, "

He sounded hurt. "But I thought we were close enough for you to have told me. It just seemed so unlike you." 

He knew me better than I gave him credit for.

"I would have told you." I wanted to make that clear to him first. "I didn't want to leave but my father sent me away."

"How come?"

I stared into his eyes and knew that he did not recognize the man I spoke of. But this was the reality. 

"Because," I sighed and felt unworthy of holding his gaze. "I couldn't let things go..." 

-

My entrance to the bar was met by a pleasant absence of people. It was well past 10 o'clock and yet the room was entirely empty. Not only that, but the entire place looked as if a tornado had spit it out. The chairs and tables were knocked down and spread all over the floor. The back doors of the club's conference room were broken in and barely hanging on. Though I couldn't even see down the hall, I could imagine it was a similar story.

 The only soul that remained stood tall behind the bar, wiping down the counters against the wall. 

"What the hell happened here?" Namjoon hadn't heard me come in. He looked over his shoulder and found me walking toward him. 

"Pigs had a day off," He said, setting down the damp rag and turning his body to speak with me. 

He sounded unimpressed, and so was I. Blackburn police were always trying to find dirt on the club. It wasn't the first time they had come in with their warrants; it wouldn't be the last time either. However, the only thing that they left with was their tails tucked between their legs. It's just the way things were. 

"Where is he?" I asked, knowing he knew who I meant. 

I took the leather stool right in front of him. Resting an elbow on the surface of the bar, I reached for an ashtray with my closest hand. 

"My mom's Cadillac broke down again," I hummed, barely surprised. 

I drew a pack of almost empty smoke from my back pocket. Bringing the carton to my mouth, I wrapped my lips around one of the cigarettes which was left exposed by the missing cover. 

"She needs to take that piece of shit to a mechanic," I muttered, fumbling with my jeans, trying to find a lighter. 

"He's going to take a look at it in the garage," He replied, reaching behind him and then placing a cheap lighter in front of me. 

"I mean a real mechanic," I said, taking the dark blue lighter in my hands and using the light to light my addiction. "Once the machine surpasses three wheels, he has no idea what he's doing."

"It's not that much of a difference," 

I scoffed at him.

"How would you know?" I urged, taking a sharp drag of my square, the end of it lighting up like Roudoff's nose. "You don't even know what's wrong with your bike half of the time."

"That's not true," He continued to gather glasses up and down the bar space. 

"My old man and I are the only ones who have ever touched your bike," I told him bitterly, hoping he would recall me having to repair his bike a few weeks ago after he had left the gas sitting in the tank for too long. 

Namjoon chose to ignore my comment. 

"Why don't you pour me a drink instead?" I said after not getting a word from him. "You're good at that." 

"You're 18," He replied as if that meant anything.

"And you're 19 working as a bartender but, here we are." 

Namjoon shot me an annoyed look, and I found it satisfying. A smirk grew on my lips as he placed his current glass in front of me. The impact of crystal glass against the wood seemed to ring on. His eyes never left mine as he reached under the bar for a bottle of Jack. 

"Pour it yourself." He spoke dangerously. My sadistic mind, only finding humor in his tough-guy act. 

"Well then," I grabbed the bottle by its neck and did the work myself. The brown liquor coming smoothly out of the metal pour spout, into the bottom of my glass. "Just because my old man lets you hang around the club, you're too good to pour me a drink now?" 

I said only casually. It was a snide comment to myself, but of course, in the dead of silence, Namjoon caught an ear. 

"What did you say?" 

Based on his expression, I was sure that he heard me clearly. I nonchalantly blew a puff of smoke in his direction, his hard stare threatening to curse me. "You've got a fucking mouth on you,"

He fiercely set everything in his hands down on the counters behind him. I watched him come around the bar and walk past me. I seized my glass in the opposite hand from where my cigarette rested between my digits. Turning in my seat to keep my eyes on him, I had a feeling he had more to get off his chest. 

"If anyone has to check their ego at the door, it's you, sweetheart." I took a sip of my drink as the bitter words left his lips. He began to pick up the chairs of the closest table to the bar. "Your biker princess entitlement is seriously getting under everyone's skin."

"Oh? Who is everyone, Namjoon?" I ridiculed him. Even though, in the tones of my voice, I was stung by his comment. "Your mother? Who has never needed a reason to not like me?"

I took in a breath of nicotine, realizing my voice was beginning to crack under my sentiment. "Or my father? Who's discarded everything I've done since you came in the picture?" 

He appeared to be trying very hard to keep his composure from reaching a violent point. 

"Your daddy issues aren't my problem," Namjoon slammed a chair down, the loud noise echoing off the ceiling of the bar. "I am not your goddamn problem!" 

This has been one of the few times I had ever seen Namjoon be fueled by his anger. But I couldn't find it in me to care. In that instance, I felt completely lethargic about it all. "You aren't a member of this club. You don't know your place and that-!" 

He stopped to breathe, to lower his voice before he did something bad. "That is your fucking problem." 

It was strange that the moment his voice softened, I lost my temper. 

"Son of a bitch," I muttered before rising to my feet. I clutched the drink tightly in my fist, using all of my force to hurl the glass at him. 

Namjoon barely stepped out of the way on time. The shattering glass missed his face by mere inches, the alcohol trailed along the six feet of floor between us. I could feel my body tremble with wrath.

"I'm always wrong, aren't I?" I said, speaking more aggressively than before. "I don't ever listen, right?"

The pit of rage that coursed through me left me feeling lightheaded and with shortness of breath.

"Well guess what, sweetheart," I mocked, regaining dominance over my emotions. "It's in my nature. Just like the rest of you, I have a problem with authority."

I was acting exactly the way that my father raised me. I was a spitting image of everything he believed in. "And I am sick to death- of being crushed under the weight of selfish men who don't believe in anything."

Namjoon hadn't said a single word, he hadn't moved an inch of his cold face. I didn't know what he was thinking. I didn't care if he thought I was crazy or the saddest thing to walk the face of the earth.

It seemed that the more I tried to be who I was, the more I was denied. So, I began to question; why should I be the one to be discarded?

I dropped my cigarette on the floor, stepping on it as I walked in his direction. The room between us smelled of the cigarette I just put out, and the whiskey I didn't drink. I came to stand so close to him, the closest I had ever been. 

He was significantly taller than I was, he towered over me like a mountain. I looked into his obscure eyes and questioned what made him so much better than me?

"My father thinks you're the greatest," My voice was barely a whisper full of venom. Namjoon was stiff in place as my fingers danced their way to the button of his jeans. His strong brows cut into his eyes that began to blacken. "Show me what makes you so goddamn special..." 

He was on me in less than a second. 

His lips pressed against my own with great intensity. His hands stroking their way down to my hips, where he urged them against him. 

I couldn't even find a taunt on my lips as he stuck his tongue between them. It was warm and soft against mine. The taste of him sent shivers across my body. The rage he brought out of me went directly from my chest to the place between my legs. 

My hands felt their way up to his rising torso. I cursed the thin fabric that kept me from scratching his skin. I settled for wrapping my arms around his neck, my hands sinking straight into the locks of his platinum hair. 

He paused for the second I pulled at his roots, letting out a grunt of frustration before moving down to attack my vulnerable neck. His teeth drew moans from my mouth, my eyes fluttering closed at the mixture of kisses and bites. 

He grew irritated by the clothes between us. His hands struggled to push me back, I lightly stumbled on my feet, Namjoon used his black eyes to search my trembling figure. He grabbed the collar of my blouse, ripping open most of the buttons in one yank. The lack of clothes underneath drove him wild.

His hands were on me again after that. He couldn't wait any longer and picked me up by my thighs. My hands impatiently began to push up his black shirt. Namjoon managed to locate the only standing table in the bar and dropped me upon it. His shirt came off the instant I hit the wood, I kept it beside me on the table. 

"You're such a pretty girl," he hissed as I arched my chest toward him. His fingers handled the buckle of my belt before pulling my button undone. "But you’re so very, tough to please," 

I hated how much I loved to hear him talk to me. I pulled back into a heated kiss. My hands finally began to feel his creamlike skin under my fingernails. The feeling sends his skin to tremble under my touch as I kick off my shoes. 

They tumbled to the ground and Namjoon found the waistband of my pants. His lips still pressing bruises against mine, I didn't want him to pull away. He did so to pull my pants down my legs, panties and all, leaving me almost completely bare on the table. 

He leaned his damp forehead against mine. His eyes had a stronghold on my own as his hands rubbed the supple skin of my thighs. 

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked, pulling me closer to the edge of the table. I gulped and took my breath all the same. 

All I could give him was a panting whimper and nodding gesture. 

But that was enough.

Namjoon palmed my heat, leaving my body wanting more, making it long for him. I gripped his broad shoulders, leveraging my hips closer to him. He took the suggestion and pushed his pants down his thighs. I didn't even get a glance at what he had to offer until he was pressing at my opening.

He left me breathless. I was a whining mess under the force of his hips. 

"Shit," Namjoon's voice strained under the pleasure. 

His fingers pressed into the skin of my hips, holding them in place as he pounded into me. I was struggling to keep my eyes open. 

"Oh god..." I wished my voice hadn't trembled. 

I was almost embarrassed at the noise that left my mouth, I begged him to shut me up. His mouth was addicting, each stroke of his tongue was like silk. My bare legs caressed along his, as I held back every urge to lock them around his waist. 

The marks I was leaving along his back must have gotten painful because Namjoon grabbed a hold of my wrists. He pinned my hands flat on either side of me. This gave me enough room to lean back on them, offering him some room to explore. His lips were so full and smooth, I couldn't help but to want them all over me.

In this position, he leaned forward, making his thrust start to move at an angle. My eyes threatened to roll back at the new depth. His eyes relished in the display of my body. My breast stuck to the thin material of my blouse and moved at the pace of his hips. 

"Oh! Namjoon..." Now that my hips were free from his hold, I began to roll them against him, almost uncontrollably.

He drifted forward to capture my lips, pressing a more delicate kiss into them. His hand slipped off my wrists and found their way to caress the skin of my cheek. Suddenly the lustful moans that had been leaving my mouth were replaced by sweeter ones. His touch was gentle, and I couldn't help but admit that his intimacy made me uncomfortable. 

I took his bottom lip into my mouth and grazed it with my teeth. I saw his eyes open as he let out a low growl from the back of his throat. I pried my hand around his neck, my claws digging at the surface of his nape.

He immediately understood what I wanted and was not afraid to give it to me. 

Namjoon hooked his arms around my legs, spreading my legs wider and pushing me further onto the table. I didn't think he could go any faster, but for once, I was happy he proved me wrong.

"Ah! Yes!" I cried.

That place deep inside of me he hit so flawlessly it made my eyes tear with joy. The sounds coming from my mouth were like evidence of that. I wanted to just shut my eyes and let the feeling consume me. However, he was an extraordinary sight before me.

Namjoon's head was slightly tossed back, eyes shut in concentration and bliss. His jaw clenched every time he tried to suppress one of his moans.

I tighten my walls around him, just to watch how his mouth opens with a groan.  

"Fuck! You're so good." He was living a high life.

Our rapid breathing and ecstatic moaning filled the room. At his pace, he could have easily taken me to the top.

It was such a shame our time had to be cut short by a voice that was not our own.

"What the fuck is this!?" That was rage only his mother could spit. 

Namjoon pulled out of me immediately as he heard his mother came in from the garage. I made sure to moan loud for her as he left me feeling empty inside. 

Namjoon's body covered enough of me as I caught Jaeeun's murderous expression in my line of sight. My mind was still clouded by ecstasy but that wasn't the reason my lips wore a smile. 

My father walked in moments later at the sound of Jaeeun's startle. He was just on time to catch Namjoon pulling up his pants, and my lower half covered by his black shirt. 

Their expressions were priceless. 

Namjoon could do no wrong in my father's eyes. He was the son he always wanted. I was hoping this would put a little strain on their relationship.

Masterlist ≽

[trashyslashers]

Literally anything you want to write, involving Danny Johnson, I love how you write him!!!!!

Here you go!!! It was fun writing for Danny in a way that wasn’t him just tormenting tf out of reader.

———————————————————————————————————–

Click 

The sudden, soft sound from somewhere behind you caught your attention almost immediately, and instantaneously set you on edge. You were the only Survivor currently at the campfire as most others were in trials; the handful of those that weren’t were trying to steal some rare time for themselves by meandering through the surrounding woods, leaving you completely alone and isolated. 

It was incredibly rare for a Survivor to have the campfire all to themselves, and it was a constant toss up of how the time alone would be: either peaceful, considering that they didn’t have to deal with the arguments or sour moods that some of the others brought to the table, or absolutely nerve wracking as you had no one there to watch your back. An alone Survivor was not only a very uncommon occurrence, but also an incredibly dangerous one seeing how their solitude made them much more vulnerable to the leering eyes of any passing Killers, something you always feared whenever you found yourself alone for more than a minute.

You felt that that exact fear was becoming reality as the feeling of eyes boring into the back of your head became increasingly apparent as you sat, frozen on one of the many logs surrounding the campfire as you kept yourself focused on any distant sound your ears could pick up. 

It’s just your imagination, you told yourself. You aren’t used to the complete silence - your brain is making you hear stuff that isn’t there. Surely, you were just creeping yourself out - working yourself up over nothing as you were so unused to the silence and solitude. 

At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of.

Click

Click, click 

Again, this time from more to the left than last time. What was that? It was a vaguely familiar sound; one that you know you’ve heard before but were struggling to determine where exactly from. That by itself creeped you out, but not nearly as much as knowing that you - probably - weren’t alone out there anymore. 

Who could it be?“Jake? - Meg?” You called out tentatively, straining your ears to pick up on any sort of responding sound. Those two usually spent a fair amount of time out in the woods, right? Jake was a pretty solitary guy and admitted that he felt more at home in the woods than anywhere else, and Meg often went for runs to pass time. It had to be one of them.

No answer. Only another soft click, almost directly to your left now.

Your head snapped to the side, your eyes scanning along the dark wood line for any indicator of who else was out there. Despite not seeing anyone or anything, your anxiety didn’t relent in the slightest and you prepared yourself to run as it was starting to feel like you were in some sort of danger. A fair amount of Killers were able to sneak around undetected - the Wraith being the first one to come to mind, whose ability to cloak himself was often the bane of your existence. He was rarely seen outside of trials though, right? There’s no way it was him - he was probably the most solitary of all the Killers. The Pig? No - she wasn’t the type to really stalk Survivors outside of trials. Myers. Your heart froze in your chest once that thought crossed your mind. It has to be Myers.

A quick blur of white passed your peripheral vision, and right away you realized who it was. 

No, they were shorter than Myers. 

“Danny, you’re an asshole, you know that right?” 

Of course he knew it, and it wasn’t like he’d give a shit that you thought he was an asshole - he was well aware of the fact and had no intention of changing it. 

That’s also part of why you loved him. 

“Did you get any good ones?” You asked, the slight hint of a laugh on your voice though you were hardly amused. Danny’s pulled this kind of nonsense several times before, but you’ve yet to get used to it. He always managed to make it much more ominous than it needed to be by creeping around the foliage - he’s admitted in the past that you were his favorite out of all the Survivors to go after and scare, especially since you two became involved with each other.

Danny was a collector; everyone knew that by now, and his favorite thing to collect were photos of both dead victims and soon-to-be victims alike - with you being his favorite subject. He’d shown you his growing assortment of photos he’d taken of you, Polaroids upon Polaroids of you in various situations and scenes, and he seemed especially proud of the ones that were taken without your knowledge. At first you absolutely hated it, but you grew fonder of it as time went on.

It was endearing in a weird, creepy way. 

You stood up from your seat, making your way towards the treeline to meet him as he slunk out from the cover that the trees provided. His steps were much quicker than yours were, and once within arms reach you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your arms around his neck and shoulders as best you could. 

“You never answered me, you know.” You said teasingly, your voice low as you tugged his mask up so you could see his face and press a kiss to his chapped lips. You briefly worried that one of the other Survivors would show up and see the two of you like you were - but it didn’t really matter if they did, did it? Sure, Survivor and Killer relationships were….. taboo, to say the least, but it’s not like they weren’t allowed. A handful of the others knew about your involvement with Danny and while they weren’t exactly too thrilled with it, they didn’t treat you any differently or scorn you for it. 

Your attention was brought down to Danny’s hands as he fiddled with his camera, watching as he clicked through about five recently taken photos of you. Most were from a distance and hard to make out, but one was a close up of you sitting, with your front turned towards the camera and your eyes wide, probably taken when you were looking out into the woods to try and see who was out there. The glow from the fire illuminated your skin warmly, and something about the juxtaposition of the darkness behind you with the brightness of the fire made the photo incredibly alluring. 

You looked nice, if you were being honest. 

“I think that one’s probably my favorite, out of every single one you’ve ever taken of me..” You laughed quietly, your arms still resting over his shoulders as he nodded in agreement. His reluctance to talk was unusual seeing as how usually it was the exact opposite and he’d refuse to shut up, but you didn’t want to pry and hurt his pride by asking what was wrong.

You had a feeling, though. In rare, tender moments with him in the past he’d admitted that he, to a degree, missed Roseville, that he missed his old life. Of course, he came to the Fog willingly and enjoyed the killing that the Entity let him do, but he absolutely hated playing by its rules and missed being able to just… run amok and go about his business as he pleased. You assumed that creeping on you and the occasional other Survivor outside of trials was his own way of reliving his old life, and you had no intent of interfering with that.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNINGS: fluffy date feels, roleplay, spooning, reacharound, fingering, female ejaculation, cuddling. Nuts And Dolts: make out session, public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, coitus interruptus.

NOTICE: There are many references to Harry Potter in this chapter. The authors of this fic do not agree with or condone JK Rowling's controversial views on the transgender community. She might have made a universe that many of us loved but it doesn't mean she's right about everything, and sometimes our idols can really disappoint us.

=Chapter 4

After the spasms subsided to an occasional twitch, Winter turned aside and kissed Ruby’s ankle. "That looked like you enjoyed it quite a lot."

All the poor girl could do was lay against the ground with an elated grin on her face, breathing deeply but happily to recollect herself. She certainly did enjoy every moment, and such an orgasm had clearly taken its toll on the poor little Hufflepuff. She definitely wouldn’t mind if they did this again sometime.

After giving her a minute or so to collect herself, Winter asked as softly as she could manage, "Okay… out or in?"

"Whuh?" Ruby only just managed to ask, turning her head in Winter's direction to try her best to look again. She could still feel the large object inside her, and even now there was an odd fullness that she enjoyed. But alas, if she had any hope of calming down enough to make the journey back home, she'd need to end things now. "O-out."

"Okay," Winter chuckled. "On three, then. Alright? One, two… three." Then, in one smooth, quick motion, she withdrew the thick length from within Ruby's well-deflowered flower.

"Oooh!" One last shudder, and Ruby was free of it again. Empty. It was a strange feeling after taking something so big, but came with just as much relief. Smiling and panting still, she asked rather cheekily, "Don't suppose I can see it now, can I?"

"Sure," Winter sighed, pressing her face up against the arch of Ruby's foot. "Just… give me a second and I'll untie you."

But that didn't fool her. She could feel Winter there, and she wasn't going to let her get off Scot free. "What's the matter? Foot got your tongue?"

That quickly, Winter pushed herself upright and away. "Right, sorry - your wrists must be chafing by now…"

Flexing her hands and rotating them around, she chuckled slightly nervously in agreement, trying to push them toward her. "Yeah, kinda. Knees ache, too."

"Alright, let's take care of that. These knots are actually very easy to undo." Which she proceeded to demonstrate, fingers flying over them and loosening bonds here and there. Only once more did Winter pause over the wriggling soles, and it was very brief. Then, her sub was freed.

"There," she sighed, sitting back on her shoes. "You are a turkey no more."

"Gobble, gobble!" With a giggle, Ruby brought her hands back at last and rotated them quite a while to loosen them, rubbing them to aid with that, as well. She also rotated her feet in the same way to relax them, flexing her toes here and there in addition. Only then did she finally reach up and pull away the blindfold.

When she looked over, she saw Winter had used quite a strange object, indeed. It was more or less the size and dimensions of a human phallus, but more perfectly straight… and tapered. Between that, the tannish colour, texturing, and the shape of the handle…

"It's a 'love wand'," Winter informed her with a smirk. "Special ordered. Might be kind of ridiculous, but I thought it was at least wizard-themed."

A light blush formed on Ruby's cheeks again. Special ordered? Yet another thing she had bought for their one particular scene. It seemed like Winter practically had money to burn. Making short work of the rest of the ties around herself, she let them drop to the ground, stepping out of them.

"How much did you spend on me?" she asked. "’Cause I know the robes alone don't come cheap."

"Don't worry about that," Winter told her right away, no hesitation. "It was part of the scene, and I volunteered to do it. You didn't even help me set this one up, so it's all on me."

"I know but, this is a lot." She shrugged her shoulders once again nervously. "Don't get me wrong, I do appreciate it, really! But, if you're spending this much on me, how much are you dropping on everyone? Are you okay with it? Like, you’re not taking out a small business loan just for your subs, are you?"

The elder woman blinked at her for a moment before her mouth turned up in a soft smile. "You're really worried, aren't you?" Reaching forward, she cupped Ruby's cheek with the lightest touch she could manage. "I'm fine. Not 'Google futures' fine, but believe me, buying a couple of outfits and this piece of silicon that looks like wood isn't going to mean I can't eat or pay rent. But… thank you."

Smiling back contentedly, she nodded. Yet again, she found one of her hands raising to the one on her cheek, pressing it up against her face even more. Winter's soft hands… "It's no problem."

The content expression grew deeper on Winter’s face, and she allowed herself to enjoy the touch for a moment before she spoke again. "Good. Now then, to reveal the solid gold Galleons I bought for you…"

"Wha?!" For Winter's sake, and the sake of her own sanity, she hoped that was a joke.

But in their encounter for the night, something different seemed to twig for Ruby. Winter was the first person to treat her with various luxuries. Even if they were just for one night, it was more than anyone had done for her before. How could this just be friendship? And there were also the adoring looks, comments on her body… Could her sister-in-law actually have a bit of a crush on her?

Nope, we're not going down that road, either, Ruby told herself. Penny treats you great! In her own way, at least; she can't afford this stuff, sure, but you can't betray her by not telling her about any romantic stuff going on with somebody else. Don’t worry about what’s going on with Winter until it’s a real problem.

However, that thought brought about a gasp. She had forgotten something else she promised. "Wait, what time is it?!"

"Hmm? Oh, I…" Glancing around, she craned her neck over toward where the nightstand usually was - only to see nothing there. "Ah, damn. I was so concerned with making sure all technology was hidden! Hang on, I'll check the bathroom clock for you." She was already heading through the door.

"Alright, sorry!"

Shit. Not only did you forget you'd be home for Penny, you made Winter feel like crap, as well. Great job, you dumbass. Those thoughts alone were enough to make her run her hands down her face, groaning in annoyance. It was probably midnight, knowing Ruby's luck; way later than her self-designated curfew. It might seem a ridiculous promise to some, but Ruby knew how important it was to sleep beside her girlfriend.

"About ten 'til ten," Winter said as she returned, tossing something in a foil wrapper to Ruby. "Also, you'll want to have a small something, especially since you… well, lost a little blood."

"Oop!" Just managing to catch it before it hit her across the face, Ruby unwrapped it immediately to reveal: "A chocolate frog!" That would hit the spot. The poor Hufflepuff was certainly in the mood for something sweet after that intense pleasure! But before Winter went to put things away, she thought it best to speak up.

"I'm sorry, by the way. About the whole virginity thing. I honestly had no idea."

"You didn't know you were a virgin? That's a first. But honestly, I'm only sad I couldn't give you the proper treatment - like, if… oh, but it doesn't matter what I would have done now. I hope you enjoyed today, though."

"Well I'm not, exactly. Or I wasn’t, even before. I mean, me and Penny have done stuff. With fingers. I guess I just counted that as my virginity even without the… breakage." She nervously scratched the back of her head again. Although, she was still curious. "What would you have done?"

Winter shrugged, thinking for a moment. "Oh… I don't know, I haven't had to take a sub's virginity before. Probably something involving covering the bed in rose petals, maybe some soft music. And probably fairly vanilla sex; it's sort of a lot to deal with on top of being tied up and things, isn't it?"

"That's sounding very…" Don't do it. Don't go there! "…romantic."

God fucking damnit! But it honestly was. The idea of a woman setting things out and making them perfect just for her was enough to warm her heart, make her feel truly special. A feeling that she should only feel for one person.

Who, talking of which, she was supposed to be heading home to, and so Ruby began to fetch her underwear. "I'm sorry I never mentioned that I have to get home tonight, either, but Penny kind of wants me to. I mean, if I'm desperate, I don't think she'd have a problem but-"

"Oh? That's fine…" The disappointment in Winter's tone was very slight, but there all the same. She tried to dispel it as she continued, "Would you have time to go over today's session, or are you… needing to leave immediately?"

Pulling on her underwear first, she looked back toward Winter. She could sense the disappointment, even if she wasn't trying to show it. Running off so suddenly wasn't something she wanted to do at all. Nor did she truly want to leave Winter without doing her part in tidying up.

"Well…" It was getting late, however. The ride was at least half an hour back to home, and Ruby had told Penny half past ten would be her latest to get home. With there being so little time, she shrugged, following her deepest heart’s desire. "Okay, I'll let Penny know I'm tired and I’m gonna stay; if that's okay with you."

"What? No, you don't have to cancel on her! That wasn't… I didn't mean for you to change your plans if you need to be home, I'm sorry."

"No, I want to." It was the truth. Gesturing to the layout of the room, she said, "You spent forever setting this up for me! It wouldn't be fair for me to run off and leave you to clean up without any help. She's just…" Scratching her head nervously, she sighed. "She's scared of things possibly turning romantic without her knowing about it first. Like, she's okay if things do, but not behind her back."

That caught Winter by complete surprise. She had been about to bend to pick up the "Hogwarts textbook," and forgot all about it as she straightened again. "You… think you and I… she thinks we would have an affair? An actual adulterous affair?"

"No… Well, yes… Well, no- I don't know!" Ruby hadn't even bothered to put the rest of her clothes on, dropping her shirt again from when she was about to slide it over her head. Running a hand through her hair, she tried to think more into it. "I guess she's never done this kind of thing before, she doesn't know what to think. And honestly, neither have I. This is all brand new! It's not that she doesn't trust you, or doesn't trust me. I think she just worries she'll be left behind, or something."

But Winter was chuckling to herself. It seemed a bit out of place and insensitive, until she said, "Penny has nothing to fear, believe me. I don't fall for my subs. Not that you aren't an incredible young woman; she's very lucky to have you. But I've never felt a romantic attachment before." Then she shrugged as she picked up the book after all. "Or at least, the few times I have, I just ignored the feeling until it went away. Too inconvenient."

For a moment, Ruby paused again. "So, you've never been in a romantic relationship? Ever?"

"Not once." She continued tidying while speaking. "Oh, I tried meeting men in bars, things like that… and there was never a spark. Didn't lead anywhere. It was fairly frustrating until I just came to accept that if that ever does happen for me, it's not going to be because I went seeking it out."

Something about that made Ruby feel sad. More sad than she'd ever expected. Winter had so much experience, but never once had any of that been romantic - never had anyone to cuddle up to at night, or give her small kisses throughout the day. Never even something as small as silly text messages throughout the day just to let her know they were thinking of her. From the vague things she had found out through Yang, she knew Winter had a troubling past with men; but learning this, as well…

"I just gotta go get my phone to text her," she insisted, moving her clothes to the top of the bed for a moment, before going off to collect those she left in the bathroom.

"Alright," was all Winter said at first. When Ruby was in the bathroom, she called out, "Oh - if you were serious about staying, you can borrow some of my pyjamas."

It seemed to fall on deaf ears. Once she'd gone back to the bathroom, the took her phone from her pocket. Ten PM according to her phone's time, it still wasn't too late to get a taxi. Only just.

But instead, she wrote out a message: Our playing got super cray and I'm really tired so I'm gonna stay. I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back, and if you wanna talk about things more, that's fine. Love you, sleep well xoxo

Once that was sorted, she collected her clothes up into her arms. If nobody had ever given Winter a romantic night, she was going to do it herself. There was no reason why she couldn't do it as a form of play, even if it would end up with sleep. That was allowed, right?

“Winter,” Ruby whispered to herself, flicking off the bathroom light, “prepare to be… romanticized!”

---------------------------------------------

By the time Ruby returned to Winter’s bedroom, the cauldron and most of the other odds and ends were put back where they belonged, though the rest of the room still looked very "Hogwarts". That couldn't be helped; she probably had men roll out the false floor and move the bed on top of it. Also, the steamer trunk would take at least two people to heft.

"We could have a nightcap while we discuss the session," Winter said once she noticed Ruby standing there. "Also, you can choose the bed or the couch; I'm fine with either."

Picking up the remaining parts of the potion pack, Ruby placed them near the bedside table. That seemed like a good idea, taking time out and finishing the rest tomorrow. However, rather than make a decision, she looked toward Winter.

"Actually… What if we did something else? Like a second session?"

"What?!" Winter burst out, nearly dropping the satchel she had been moving over by the closet. "You just lost your virginity! I'm… a little surprised you'd want to go again!"

"Not exactly…" Making her way toward the bed, she sat on the bedside, elegantly crossing her legs. She still wasn't dressed, and was clearly making no effort to do so. That became a lot more obvious. "Like, not necessarily a sex session."

"Ah… wait, what are you talking about, then?" Winter seemed genuinely confused. "A training session, more like the first time? Or what?"

"I'm talking… about switching roles." Patting the space on the bed beside her the smile was beginning to become a little more mischievous. Especially so as she leant back. "Remember our first session, how it was like, first date fluffiness?"

Winter's brow was still furrowed, but she said, "Of course. Except that date slowly turned into you being Lady." Her lips quirked slightly as she set back to tidying. "Even I know that's not how most first dates usually go."

"Yeah, well…" She shook her head. "Okay, forget about that then! I mean… I wanna give you an experience of your own. A different kind of session, like a…" She swallowed. Again with the word. "A romantic one."

"What?" When she finished putting down the potions ingredients case by everything else, she stood ramrod straight. Then she slowly turned to look at Ruby. "You want to give… me one?"

Ruby nodded. Rather than patting the bed again, she instead pulled up the covers by her side, inviting her into the bed itself. Even without the pyjamas, both in the same bed… "Have you ever been spooned before?"

"What?" Winter asked again. She really did seem to be having trouble processing what Ruby was offering, but she finally seemed to be moving past the initial confusion. "Oh… come on, I wasn't trying to get you to- Ruby, you don't have to do this. I'm fine with my life as it is, really. Happy, even! My relationship with Weiss is more secure than it ever was, and I have a good circle of friends, so… so you don't need to start worrying about me, alright?"

"I'm not," she insisted. Still not budging, still not moving, only continuing to hold the bedsheets open for her. "I'm seriously asking; A, have you been spooned before, and B, do you want a romantic session with me?"

Swallowing hard, Winter began to say something. Her lips parted, and she leaned forward, then stopped herself. With a shrug, she said, "No, I haven't. And… yes, I do." Hastily, she added, "If you really, truly want one with me. Otherwise, I'm not going to make you uncomfortable by accepting. I absolutely refuse to do that."

Immediately, Ruby rolled to one side to allow herself into the bed first, budging right over to one side under the covers and patting the large area between them. Leaning her head against her hand, she continued that smile back toward Winter. That enticing, genuine smile.

"You never made me uncomfortable, never guilted me into this," she reassured. "I wouldn't have offered if I felt either of those things. Seriously, I really want to do this for you."

"Oh. Well, I suppose… we could try it. For a bit." She took a step forward, then snorted and began taking off her shoes. "I'm not getting in wearing this getup, though. Firstly, because it would wrinkle, and my dry cleaner already questions my wardrobe choices often enough."

"Well duh." Ruby chuckled, waiting patiently as she got herself comfortable for a moment, laying her head against the pillow lazily. "What would your Ravenclaw character wear? Like, right after she's given Rose a wild night?"

Pursing her lips, she thought on that for a moment as she undid the dress shirt, loosened the necktie just enough to slide it over her head. "Well… probably something conservative. I sort of envisioned her as only really liking to torture 'Rose' because they have that kind of arrangement. Outside that, she's not too liberal with her body or sexuality."

"Okay…" Perhaps this was going to be more difficult than she thought. Not even Winter's 'sona' was into romance it seemed, or at least wasn't willing. But maybe that was because of how she saw Ruby's own persona in their play. The small, bumbling Hufflepuff of whom she could toy with however she wanted, a student that just liked disobeying the rules. Maybe that was what had to change.

"Then perhaps… after she's given Rose her lesson for the day," she began, still watching as Winter stripped, "she returns to her dorm, to… um, Red. A pretty ironically-named Ravenclaw she has a different kind of connection with? Or something?"

That made Winter grin from ear to ear as she finally discarded the shirt, revealing her bra. Next came the skirt, which she shucked as she answered, "I like where this is going; separate play, but equal. So how long have Winter and 'Red' been cuddle buddies? For the past two years, perhaps?"

"Oh, since they were third years. Maybe Winter's not as hard-as-nails as she acts, and got scared of a thunderstorm one year…" Ruby was having just as much fun making up their characters as their session had been. Even if it was just for the sake of play, it was a fun exercise - especially when Harry Potter was involved. "So Red just snuggled up to her one day, and it helped. So they kept doing it, and maybe they even kissed a little too, that kinda thing."

"I can see that. Very well, we might as well start the scene now, if it's going to be Winter coming back from that session with 'Rose'. If you're prepared to start, that is."

"Very well, then." She attempted herself to sound rather posh in that moment, grinning still at how easily Winter accepted things. But eventually, cleared her throat.

"Begin play."

Then her demeanour seemed to change. She still leant against the pillows in bed, only this time was rather eagerly rubbing the empty space by her side, trying to encourage her to take up the space. "You've been gone a while; I take it Rose enjoyed her session today?"

"She did," Winter sighed, a little more stiffly than before. "You know, I wasn't sure how she was going to take to ropes and tickling, but… she seemed really, really turned on by those developments. It was interesting."

"I see…" 'Red' smirked to herself, continuing to look to her partner with half closed eyes and a smirk. This was going to be a fun role to play, especially since it was going to be more dominating. An interesting switch. "Sounds intense! I bet you wore the poor girl out."

"Completely." Winter decided to let a little of reality slip into their fantasy, and she sighed. "Really wish I had known she was a virgin before tonight… I think that made for an unpleasant surprise for both of us."

"Oh?" Ruby was able to sense this. Even in the middle of 'play', she was using this as a way of venting how she felt about the whole thing. It wasn't as though things could be reversed, but at least she could also put her own thoughts across. Even as Red.

"I wouldn't say it's unpleasant," she began, finally moving her arm aside when it looked like Winter was going to come to bed. "Out of all the terrible Slytherins out there, she lost it to you; someone who will look after her and take care of her. I'd say she did well."

The blush that crept into Winter's cheeks was obviously real, but all she said was, "Th-that's a fair point, I suppose. And of course, I'm more than honoured to have been the one for her." Then she sighed as she sat down on the bed in front of Ruby, wearing only panties and socks - the latter of which she was removing. "She really seemed to like what I could do for her, though."

"Oh, I'm sure she did." The slight slip of character was of course her agreement, to show to her Dom that she had in fact enjoyed their session thoroughly. But still beginning their next one, she leant forward, looping her arms around Winter's waist as she sat up herself. "Just as I'm sure you'll enjoy what I can do for you."

"Hmm?" Looking over her shoulder, Winter blinked down at her for a moment before smiling. "Oh, I'm sure I will, Red. We've been doing this for long enough that I'm pretty certain I will."

"Good. Then get in here," she finally commanded, retracting her arms and getting herself right back to her position in the bed. It felt rather nice to be the one in control. There was a peculiar thrill about it, one she could get used to.

"Yes, ma'am," Winter breathed, easily falling into a submissive role and dipping her head slightly as she slipped into the covers, backing up against Ruby's front before she pulled them up higher.

Right away, the hands began to loop back around Winter again as she felt Ruby nestling into her back. With her smaller size, she found quite a simple spot; head leaning against her neck, legs tucking away just below hers. All the while, her hand started to very gently stroke her stomach. Just a small amount to comfort her in their time together. And Winter shivered. It was part of her character, to be sure, but also an involuntary reaction to the affectionate gestures. Her own hands fell to the backs of the arms in front of her, only touching them lightly so as not to stop them from progressing in whatever direction they may.

Nestling her head on Winter's shoulder as best she could, Ruby could be clearly felt smiling happily. One such smile that only brightened when she looked to the soft skin of her partner's neck. Deciding it would be in character, she leant in, pressing a kiss against it, before returning to her position.

"You're so soft."

"Thank you," she breathed shakily. This was getting a lot more intense a lot faster than she anticipated! "I… always think you're soft, Red."

Swallowing hard, she tried to back up a little further until she could feel shins underneath her heels. There was a rather pleasant feeling down below that Ruby approved of, even if nothing could really be done about it without another item. Ruby's crotch was pressed right in against Winter's petite behind. The soft cheeks were more than comfortable, but feeling them so close to her was enough to get her feeling in the mood again.

But not for her. Ruby was finished for the night. No… her feelings and desires were more to serve another. She had been so patient with her, giving her a fantastic orgasm. It felt fair to try and return the favour. Already, her hands were beginning to stroke slightly lower, and lower…

"Red?" Winter asked in a hushed tone, trying to look over her shoulder at the smaller girl. "What's… what are you doing?"

Returned only with a sly smirk, Red looked back up toward her as best she could. Her hands were continuing to make their journey downward, delicately stroking while they did so. "Tell me, did Rose return the favour? Pleasing you, I mean."

With a knowing smirk, she whispered, "Oh, of course not. After the paces I put her body through tonight? Nobody's that resilient that they could turn around and do it for someone else the same night."

"I dunno, I think she could have had it in her…" Ruby continued to tease, continued to pet. Right until she was toying with the waistband of Winter's underwear. "But either way… maybe I can provide that relief."

Shivering all the way down her spine, Winter curled her toes up against Ruby's shins. "O-ooh… maybe you can. Maybe I would like that."

"You would?" she asked, very slowly dipping her fingers into Winter's underwear. Just the fingertips at first… then more… "Because I'd very much like to. I do love hearing you squeal my name."

Ever the professional, Winter let out a shaky breath and whispered, "Red…"

Even if she was supposed to be the Dom in this scene, Ruby's cheeks lit up just as red as the word. She was glad that Winter was in front of her and couldn't see that shyness in her cheeks, couldn't see how it affected her. But she had a job to do. The hand went even lower into her underwear, fingers lightly scratching through the small patch of hair below. Winter always kept herself neat, and today was no exception.

"All short for me? You know how to lay out the welcome mat."

"Well," she panted shakily, "I… couldn't have you seeing me… messy." After a beat, she added, "Not unless it's a mess you made."

Purring in delight, Ruby nuzzled her face up against Winter's neck again. Giving a quick kiss to distract her, she pressed her fingers further down between the soft lips below. And for a moment, she let them linger there as she whispered softly, "Do you want me to make a mess?"

Winter's entire body seized, and she reached up to grasp Ruby's hands instinctively. It wasn't intended to stop her, but she wasn't used to being handled so gently and so confidently at the same time - especially not by a woman.

"I… I really do," she breathed.

Ruby could only smile to herself again. Winter wanted to try. It was something so unlike her normal experiences, something much softer and calmer and 'Red' certainly didn't want to disappoint. Leaning in, she allowed her lips to press repeatedly against Winter's cheek while she dipped her fingers further into the lips below. She was really touching Winter Schnee! This was crazy! Over and over they brushed up and down, collecting the moisture.

"Hhahhh," Winter breathed softly, beyond pleased with the efforts 'Red' had made thus far. "That's good… I l-like that…"

"You usually do." Ruby teased. Of course, it was all for her fake role of Red the Ravenclaw, a character or Ruby's design solely for the purpose of being with Winter. Or at least, Winter's role. She was determined to make it a deeply romantic experience for her, something unlike all of her sessions before.

To do that, she continued the movements of her hands, but pressed kisses further up, toward Winter's soft lips. And she accepted, wholeheartedly and immediately, leaning back to open her mouth very slightly as their lips began to knead against each other. How divine, how sweet! Of course, every time Ruby kissed her, she enjoyed it, but somehow their current play made it that much better, that much more thrilling and…

Romantic. Why did Ruby suddenly feel the urge to start this play in the first place? Of course, Winter was enjoying herself immensely, but the question wouldn't disappear, no matter how much she enjoyed the sensations. Was this something she had wanted to explore with Winter for a while now? Or was it something Penny was unwilling to try, just as with the other sexual fantasies? Perhaps she would ask after it was done.

Smiling to herself, Ruby continued to kiss those soft tender lips of her partner. She could feel Winter's legs beginning to part just by her fingers, and it filled her with joy knowing she'd have more space to work with. And she'd do so. Now that her fingers were coated, she could quite easily push two inside, and slowly began to thrust. In and out, in unison with each of her kisses. Whatever she could do to help Winter feel what she had missed out on in all that time, she would do it.

Being entered was so thrilling that Winter's thighs parted immediately, letting the hand do its deed. Both fingers felt so good, so full and articulate inside of her body! Of course, they weren't going precisely where they should; Ruby's inexperience shone through, despite her confidence. To that end, she pulled back from the kiss just enough to tell 'Red', "Curl in a little more" under her breath.

She heard. Even now, Winter was guiding her through their play, despite being the “sub”. Ruby certainly didn't mind, and took the lesson in stride. Curling her fingers as asked, she was starting to feel just why as her fingers pressed against Winter's inner walls with each entry, pushing in and out over again against her.

Slowly but surely, the elder woman began to moan louder, with less reserve. It was good. Very good, enough to make her climax fairly soon if she kept it up. Of course, that was partly because of their earlier play having whet her appetite, but that didn't mean Ruby wasn't adapting to her new role quite smoothly.

"Yes, good," she cooed, continuing to push her fingers in and out slowly as she whispered toward her ear. "You love it, don't you? You like when I help you unwind after a hard day?"

Allowing her thumb to move forward, she attempted to stroke at the small nub at the top of her sex. It was something she hadn't tried before, but instinct told her it would be a good move. And jerky as the motions were, Winter groaned aloud from the contact, shivering all over and arching her back.

"Y-yes! Yes, I like it so much - you're so good to me, Red! How… can you know my body this well?!" Perhaps it was embellishment, or perhaps it was a true and honest question. There was no easy way of knowing.

"Because I want to satisfy my little Winter as much as I can," she whispered, pressing another kiss against her neck. "And I want her to make a mess for me."

With those last words, she plunged her fingers in as deep as she could, curling them right against where it always felt best on herself. She only hoped it would be enough to push Winter to that edge, and give her a most satisfying end.

"Nnhh! OH! Yes, right there, that's perfect!" Winter began to writhe against the contact, feeling the twin digits curling deep into her and prompting more pleasure than she could have expected. It was good - as good as she had from any of her other partners in sexual escapades. She found herself quite stunned that Ruby could learn all this, despite never having had an ongoing bedroom partner before.

"Goooood," Ruby cooed one more time. Continuing to curl against that spot over and over, she delivered kiss after kiss against her neck and cheek, lavishing her with love while trying to bring her to her end. To give the experience she was unsure Winter had ever had before, something new just for her.

Or you genuinely do like her. The inner monologue was intruding once more; mocking and teasing. Maybe she really would have to discuss these things with Penny relatively soon, if this was going to become a common practice.

"Y-YES! Yes, harder, Rub- Red! YeahhhhHHHH!!"

And with that, Winter felt herself losing control, finishing hard and strong. Her entire body was spasming back against Ruby's, toes curling and back arching, mouth hanging open as she gasped for air between loud moans and keenings. It was one of the better orgasms she had ever experienced – and all thanks to her youngest, most inexperienced sub.

Ruby could feel it against her fingers. She felt the muscles clamping down on her, trying to milk the fingers for all they had and to keep them against that sweet spot of hers. But also felt something else, something on the outside. Alas, Ruby wasn't the only one to squirt it seemed. Small splashes came from Winter herself against her hand. Not as much as Ruby did on her occasions, but still enough to have Ruby gasping in surprise as she tried to look down, and grinned.

"You really did make a mess, huh?"

"Y-yeah," Winter panted shakily, licking her dry lips as she slowly descended from the heights of pleasure. "I… did. Wasn't that… what you wanted?"

"It was," she reassured her, delivering another kiss to her cheek now that Winter had finished. She had done it! She had brought Winter to a powerful orgasm by herself, now with fingers rather than her tongue. And judging from Winter's squirting, it was a very intense one, indeed.

But their session wasn't over yet. In fact, that wasn't even the main event. Right after Ruby withdrew her hand from below to rub against the sheets to clean it, she wrapped her arms around Winter again. Continuing to spoon her even the finish, nuzzling in close.

That brought a light chuckle from Winter, and after a moment she laid a hand over one of Ruby's and whispered weakly, "You don't have to keep going if you don't want to. I'm… very satisfied with that scene."

But 'Red' only kissed her cheek again, gently rubbing her stomach in a comforting manner. "You might well be," she whispered into her ear, nuzzling against her. "But maybe I'm not yet."

That robbed Winter of the power of speech, and she tightened her grip on the hand. Did Ruby really mean to play this out, all the romantic bits after the fact? What did couples even do in bed before falling asleep? They talked. That was about the only thing she knew of, so she figured she might as well attempt it. "S-so… um, I was a little surprised at how much Ruby seemed to enjoy being tickled."

'Red' smiled to herself. It was still a review of their previous session, which they intended to do anyway. What did it matter if they were still in their roles? "She did, huh?" she asked, giving a small squeeze. "Well, as long as you don't tickle her too much; wouldn't want her to have an accident or something."

"Oh, but Ruby's a squirter, and so am I; a little variety in squirting wouldn't bother me. But you're right, everything in moderation." Biting her lip for a moment, she then added, "You should have seen her squirming… I think you'd have liked that, Red."

"Watching her? Or being tickled?" She giggled to herself again, nuzzling against Winter even further again, pressing her cheek flat against whatever skin she could. Nothing could distract her from this moment, or dampen their spirits. Not even when she could faintly hear the vibration of her phone in her pocket…

"Perhaps you could remove a memory for me to watch in a Pensieve. That would be fun."

"Yes, perhaps I could." In an undertone, Winter whispered, "Wish I knew what that was." Then she cleared her throat and went on, "But I did mean watching her be tickled; I know you like to be in control."

"I more enjoy watching you be happy," she reassured with yet another kiss against the skin, slowly rubbing her hand even still in a calming manner. Now it was more to lull her to sleep than to arouse. That was the intent at least. "But watching you be in charge is fun, too."

The motion was having the intended effect, soothing Winter somewhat. But she was still nervous about this type of play; she had done a few scenes like it before, but not with anyone she cared about as deeply as Ruby. "She also really seemed to like those ropes. A bit chafed, but fun for her."

"You really like tying people up, don't you?" Ruby began to tease, but gave a quick nuzzle against her cheek when she didn't respond right away. "Lemme guess, you stunned her first, then did it?"

That earned her an affronted gasp, followed by, "I w-would never! Well… not unless she asked. Then, maybe, I suppose."

"You totally did, didn't you?!" she continued to tease, giving a light squeeze yet again as she laughed quietly. "I love that with everyone else, you're this fierce dominatrix, but here you're just a softie."

"I'm not a softie," Winter protested. It wasn't a very strong protestation, but she tried anyway.

Pressing herself in close for one final time, Ruby laid in silence for a moment. Mostly due to how tired she was after the earlier events that was finally catching up to her, but also because there wasn't much to say. Their scene was close to an end. "So are," she just insisted, beginning to close her eyes. "But that's why I like you."

There was a grumbled "fine," and Winter settled down. It was a few minutes later when she whispered, "Ruby?"

Barely awake anymore, Ruby didn't even open her eyes again when she whispered, "Yeah?"

"Do you…" What was she going to ask? Did she have any right to ask? Might as well, considering how they were tangled up with each other, about to fall asleep. "Do you really like me?"

There were both advantages and disadvantages of Ruby being half asleep in that moment. It meant she wouldn't be lying, for one. Anything that would come from her mouth would be the honest-to-God truth. However, she probably wouldn't be awake long enough to have a follow up response.

"I think…" Before she faded to sleep fully, she whispered, "I think I do…"

For the same reason, Winter only had a few seconds to smile to herself contentedly. She was determined not to take that as anything more than it was: just a mention from a friend and sub that she didn't dislike her, at least. Though it could easily mean more. Either way, it was more than she got from most people.

“Okay. Goodnight, Red.”

---------------------------------------------

Another few weeks passed. In that time, there had been more visits to Winter. More sessions of different natures between one another, some that resulted in her sleeping over yet again. They were both pleased with her progress, but there was one lingering worry that Ruby had.

Penny. Her girlfriend wasn't all too pleased about Ruby sleeping over as she first said, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. Since then, they had never talked about it – or Penny had been actively avoiding the conversation. So much to the point that she went back home to her fathers’ for a few weeks. Although she had insisted it was a general visit, the darker-haired girl couldn't help but think it was all down to her actions and sessions with Winter.

Today, that was going to change. Like it or not, Ruby knew she had to tell Penny the truth about her feelings. That they had grown – she did like Winter, the feelings were more than just those of a Dom/sub relationship. No matter the consequence, Penny deserved the truth. And as she stood in the airport carpark awaiting her return, she was growing more and more nervous.

That was, until she spotted her, and held a cardboard sign she had made up high for her to see. Though Penny had mostly looked tired, when she saw the sign her face lit up and she stifled a laugh behind her hand. Speeding up very slightly, she walked up to the car, wheeling her luggage behind her.

"You're a dork, you know that?" Penny called out when she was close enough to be heard easily.

Smiling back warmly, Ruby lowered the sign once she was close enough and embraced her in a warm hug. "I missed you," she whispered into her ear, only letting her go once she'd placed a kiss on her cheek. The ginger leaned into the lips for a second, then pulled back with a placid smile.

"Missed you, too. Help me get these in?"

"Oh, yeah! Sorry, I forgot." Quickly taking the case from her hand, Ruby made quick work of sliding it into the trunk of the car. Thankfully she'd already lowered the rear seats so there was plenty of room. Once that was done, she held the door open for her partner, before getting in the other side.

But before starting the ignition, she asked, "So, how were they?"

“Dad and Father? Very well, thank you for asking.” And that was all she said. Her expression was just as pleasant as before, but she seemed to see no need to elaborate.

"Good… That's good." When realising there was nothing more she was going to say, Ruby started up the car. So things were going to be awkward right from the start, it seemed. Nothing more was said while Ruby concentrated on leaving the parking lot, or when she began the journey home.

Fifteen minutes into their drive down the highway, Ruby had only just plucked up the courage to speak again. "Sooooo… I'm thinking McDonald's for dinner, maybe? There's one on the way, I think…"

"I would prefer Wendy's," Penny remarked easily. "But if there's something you want more at McDonald's, that's fine." Glancing over, she added, "Don't you love their nuggets?"

"Nuggets are more Yang's thing. I prefer chicken sandwiches myself. So, sure, we can do Wendy's!"

Continuing to drive a little longer, she looked back and forth between the road and Penny yet again. She didn't seem upset or angry at all, and yet, she still wasn't talking. There was nothing for her to work with. Eventually, she hunched her shoulders and asked the hard question.

"Are… you mad at me?"

"For eating chicken?" she laughed softly. "I'm not that vegetarian. I just like Wendy's salads better, that's all."

"No, not… argh, I'm sorry." They'd fallen back into silence yet again. Guilt had continued to gnaw at the redhead once again as she turned her focus back to the road for that bit longer. But upon spotting a Wendy's, she quickly pulled in. Except rather than going straight into the drive through, she parked at the rear of the parking lot. It wasn't until she turned off the ignition and put on the handbrake until her intentions became clear.

"I've been a jerk…"

Penny hesitated before answering, keeping both her face and her voice carefully neutral. "How so?"

"For letting this hurt you." Running a hand through her hair, Ruby stared blankly toward the wheel. This had clearly been on her mind for a long time, playing on her thoughts. She looked so guilty. "You asked me to come home that night, and I didn't. Dumb! I should have made sure I did, put you first instead of… my stupid fun-time."

Penny remained focused on the first part of what she said. "Ruby, I told you I didn't mind, and I meant it. When you mentioned it might run late… I mean, it made perfect sense. Yes, I would rather you have come home, but it's not a big deal if you can't one night."

"But that's just it. I-I… I could have. We finished up just before ten, plenty of time for me to get an uber back home." She rubbed her eyes, stopping a few of the stray tears that were beginning to form. "But I just… I didn't. Like, it’s going to sound like a bunch of crummy excuses… but I couldn't leave just yet."

"Oh…" Looking away at last, she seemed to think upon that for a while. "Then… what happened? If you're comfortable telling me."

Ruby only continued to look downward, continued to sniff sadly. The guilt never left, in fact it was only getting worse. "I'm a bad person," she whimpered. "I love you, and that hasn't changed. It'll never change. But I… I’m starting to like her, too. In the same way. Nothing makes sense, I already have you, we’re a team; why am I feeling this way for someone else? It just feels like I'm turning bad!"

It took Penny a long time to answer. Her green eyes bored into the dashboard console in front of her. When she did speak again, she began very simply, in that same neutral tone she seemed to have mastered.

"Don't think about me for a second. Please, I want you to try to forget I exist. Then I want you to tell me how you feel about Winter; just be very honest."

"But I can't forget you exist." The words were barely audible anymore. Just a high pitched mess from where she was about to cry. With another sniff, she tried to calm herself back down, taking a few shaky breaths. "I can't. I love you more than anything… But then I'm finding myself liking her in the same way, and I feel so guilty, like I'm cheating on you. And I don't want to do that!"

"The same way," Penny breathed, latching onto the one comment that had been a response to what she asked of her partner. A few more seconds went by with Penny taking a deep breath, gripping her knees.

"I know."

It seemed to take a while for Ruby to realise what Penny had said. She sniffled, looking toward her partner. "You… know?"

"Yes. I've been able to see the way you are when you talk about her, how you get so excited and happy. It's the way you talk about me, or used to talk about Weiss before your sister became her girlfriend." The words were melancholy, but not overly sad. "It's been getting more and more obvious, I just didn't want to bring it up. You seemed like you were struggling with enough."

Blinking back a few more tears, Ruby sniffed yet again. Struggling was certainly one way of putting it, she thought to herself. She tried to look into Penny's eyes a moment, before having to look away again. She couldn't bear it.

"I still talk about you in that way…" She made sure that was clear, reaching out and taking her hand. "I still love you, that hasn’t changed and never will change. I need you to know that. I need you to believe me!"

"Oh, Ruby… I do." Penny reached up to cup her cheek. Her expression wasn't as pleasant, or as glowing as it would have been before their situation changed somewhat. But it wasn't harsh, wasn't disapproving or sad. Just contemplative. "I told you before, I don't own you, and I don't want to try. If you feel a connection to Winter… even if it's just because she can provide you with certain things I can't, then that's okay! I'll adjust."

Leaning into the hand on her cheek, Ruby nodded. There was a wave of relief over her features, and she found herself managing to force a little smile. Penny didn't hate her, that was what was important.

"I just worry that you'll think I'm ditching you," she whimpered, holding the hand on her cheek instead. "Because that's not true, no way! You're my priority. I might feel this way about Winter, too, but if you want it to stop, it will. In a heartbeat."

"Why would I want it to stop? I've noticed you seeming happier and more complete ever since you started meeting with her. It would be selfish of me to take that away from you just because…" She sighed, forcing herself to finish her thought. "Because I don't understand. And I probably never will; I'm just not wired the way you and she are. But I can see you haven't stopped loving me, and that's enough to soothe my fears."

Unable to help herself, Ruby flung herself forward and pressed her lips right up against her partner's, kissing her deeply and with more passion than she ever had before. Any way to dispel away the sadness she had been holding back for so long, to keep remind her that Penny loved her. Once finished, she rested her forehead against Penny's, shakily sighing.

"I'm so glad… you have no idea. So glad you still know that."

"Of course, my little Rubáiyát," Penny whispered, kissing her back just as strongly.

That was a private joke between them; they had been studying Middle Eastern culture, and the minute she came across 'The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám', it had stuck fast. Still giggling to herself, Ruby placed a few more kisses at her lips again. She couldn't stop! It had taken a few weeks of Penny being away for her to realise how much she truly did miss her company. That was something Winter couldn't quite make up for herself. At least not yet.

And Penny was most certainly intent on returning that attention, sliding her arms around her love's shoulders and pulling her in even closer. It seemed the distance wasn't only affecting Ruby; even if it wasn't sexual, she had an aching need to be close to her girlfriend after those weeks in New York.

All the while, Ruby continued to grin. It was rare Penny was in the mood for anything all too intimate, but whenever it appeared, she would leap at the chance whenever it was. And here was no exception, even if she thought it would only last a few minutes. Testing the waters, she allowed her mouth to hang open a little longer than usual, giving Penny the chance to take advantage, should she want to.

As it turned out, Penny did. There was a brief hesitation before the ginger seemed to come to a decision, and then she leaned in and slid her tongue in past Ruby's lips, shivering at how they felt against each other. They both knew by now that Penny had very mixed feelings about that kind of kissing, because she both enjoyed the feeling and was disgusted by the "swapping of germs," as she usually referred to the practice.

Ooooohhh, she's in the mood. This wasn't a moment Ruby Rose wanted to ruin! Turning to face her properly as best as the car seats allowed, she rested her hands on Penny's waist, smiling to herself each time their tongues brushed against each other. It truly was worth the wait to have her back in her arms. Her Penny.

Instead of tapping Ruby on the shoulder to stop, or pulling away as she might have normally done, all she did was press in more, moving her mouth and tongue faster, more hungrily. Her own hands gouged in harder against Ruby through her clothes, not wanting to let her go for even an instant.

Holy shiz, she really IS in the mood! She could barely believe what was happening. This really was a once in a blue moon instance. Not that she minded; any time spent with her girlfriend was important, whether it was sexual or not. These rare moments simply made her appreciate them all the more when they did appear.

Another thought occurred to her: But wait, what if she's only doing it because she's hurt? Of course, her own mind had to bring that up. How typical. Still… it was possibly true. No matter how much she wanted intimacy from Penny, she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it if it was only borne of jealousy. With that thought in mind, she broke away for a moment, catching her breath as she rested her forehead against her lover's.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," she reassured. "I only want this if you do. For real, not just cuz you think you have to."

"I do want it." Penny was adamant, staring deep into her eyes. "I know I don't enjoy what you try doing for me in bed, and that I'm so squeamish that it's difficult for us to find common ground as far as pleasuring you. But it's been so long, I've missed you so much…"

Suddenly, a stray hand was slipping down between Ruby's thighs. "I want to be with you right now. I want to make my Rubáiyát happy, from nose to toes."

So quick, so bold… Penny really must have missed Ruby to be this ready. It really wasn't a chance to ignore, even if they were in the middle of a parking lot. Well, technically we're at the back of the lot… The more Ruby thought about it, the more tempted she was by the idea. And if you change a few things, no one will see… Biting her lip, she looked back toward Penny with a mischievous expression.

"Well, if you're completely sure…" She instead reached for a button at the side of her seat to adjust the back, lowering it to its lowest point.

"Oh!" Penny gasped in mild surprise, then smiling down at Ruby, cheeks slightly warm. "Y-you want us to do things right now, in public? That's… most unusual."

"Well, I thought…" Quickly sitting up to check the coast was clear, Ruby then returned to the position back in the chair, looking up toward Penny with equally red cheeks. "There's no one here… and it's not like the time we both did stuff while Pyrrha and Jaune were asleep while we slept on their floor…"

Laughing at the memory, Penny began to rub the outsides of Ruby's thighs now, teasing very lightly, preparing her for more. "We were so inquisitive then. I still didn't know I don't enjoy that, and you didn't know how to please a vagina, anyway – yours or mine."

"I tried my best…" Ruby looked down to one side out of embarrassment. Or at least, it seemed that way. A more likely cause for her red cheeks was probably the woman's hands all over her legs, rubbing, teasing away at her. This would be an awkward position with only one seat lowered, but she had no doubt Penny would manage. That was unless… The seats in the back were completely down. The only possible barrier was Penny's case, but there was more than enough space. Looking back with mischievous eyes again, she asked, "Here or the back?"

"Right here is fine with me if it's fine with you." One hand drifted inward again, sliding between the soft, squishy thigh-flesh. That, she thought, was beautiful. As she had explained before, it was only such bodily fluids as saliva that she found offensive; the skin all over Ruby's body was one of her favourite things in the universe.

With a light nod, Ruby grinned to herself as she watched Penny's movements. She was always so soft with her, so soft and gentle. Ruby was fairly sure that Penny would worship her body should she allow it, from how well she was treated all over. Allowing her legs to part even further, she rested her hands on Penny's shoulders, using it to anchor herself for what was to come.

As the hand drifted closer and closer to her center, its owner whispered, "Now don't forget, you have to help guide me. This isn't my field of expertise."

"You've been pretty good the times you tried it out." She smiled back at her, parting her legs even further to give Penny the advantage she needed. How glad she was that she decided to wear a shorter skirt today! It meant all Penny needed to do was move the panties to one side and have at it in whatever manner she wanted.

"We are technically out in public," Penny whispered needlessly. "Is it okay if I move a little faster?"

Which happened immediately. Though Penny only began to trace her fingers up and down her soft folds, there was no hesitation, no teasing her through the underwear this time; straight through the side of it and to the intended goal.

"O-oh! S-slow down a little… Don't go in for the kill just yet." As eager as Ruby was to begin, she knew too well that rushing would only ruin their moment together. She needed time to be ready, for her body to catch up. But Penny rubbing up and down the length of her was doing just that… "Yeah… that's it," she encouraged, sinking further back into the seat the more Penny rubbed at her folds.

Penny swallowed hard as the musky scent of arousal began to fill the air around her. It wasn't that the scent was appealing or unappealing; it was part of Ruby, and for that reason, she was fond of it. But only that reason.

"It's so good to smell this again," she said very bluntly, dipping her head lower as she pet along her lover's sex, slowly making it damp with her attentions. "It's been too long."

One of Ruby’s hands ended up at the back of her lover's neck, encouraging the actions below so eagerly. "Penny…" she whispered, hungry for more, hungry for her partner. They had barely even begun just yet!

And it seemed that today, Penny was more insatiable than usual. She always loved kissing Ruby's body, and this was no exception; even as she continued to tease, getting her ready, her lips pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh, delighting in the smooth, cool feeling. For her, this was pleasurable… this was what made her feel the excitement that Ruby felt from sexual escapades. Closeness, intimacy.

A few kisses later, and Ruby was starting to notice just where she was heading. And that was certainly a shock for her, given how her legs began to twitch again. "Penny!" she gasped, placing a hand on the back of her head, just enough to get her attention. "Are you sure? I mean, you know what sometimes happens."

"I have some moist towelettes in my bag from the plane," Penny told her in a reasonable tone, without slowing down much to do so. "If it's more than those can handle, Wendy's has a bathroom, don't they?"

"Well, yeah…" But Penny wasn't stopping. She was determined to see this through, it seemed, no matter what happened in the end result. Ruby's only hope was that this would be one of the few times it wouldn't be required, and they could just enjoy their time. With a brief nod, she allowed her hand to sink back into Penny's hair, lightly petting her. "Okay… Go for it."

"You got it." With a serene smile, she pushed her head a little further up her skirt, kissing her labia. It was a marked improvement from their other attempts; she only shivered slightly, instead of drawing away and needing a moment to recover.

Already Ruby was beginning to shudder herself. They were really doing this, after such a long time. And in a Wendy's parking lot, as well! But she wasn't about to complain at all. If her Penny was feeling up to it, they she was willing to let it continue, even if it meant their escapades were mainly in risky areas at risky hours. Lightly stroking her scalp all the more, Ruby tried to quell the few quiet moans by biting her lip, shifting in her seat slightly to find a better angle.

"Have I told you lately," Penny whispered against her soft wetness between kisses, "how much I adore every part of you, Ruby?" The hands began to slide up and down her thighs again, now that the mouth had taken control of her pleasure. "So much…"

Shakily sighing, Ruby found her head swinging back, staring upward toward the ceiling of the car interior in some sort of hope to keep her grounded. Even if they weren’t the most sensual of words, hearing them from Penny's mouth was all she could ever dream of. Scratching at her scalp still, she nodded slightly to show she heard her.

"Okay…" Two fingers slid up to push back the hood over the sensitive nub of her partner. "This is the most sensitive part, right? Do you… want me to touch it, or not?"

"Hnn…" She could barely think. What did she want while Penny was down there? She could ask her to do what she usually did, rubbing it to get a reaction; or try something new. That option seemed exciting enough. "Your tongue… If you're up for it."

"Oh…" Penny glanced up at Ruby's panting form, then back down at the glistening sex waiting for her to explore. After a few seconds of indecision, she tentatively stuck her tongue out, pressing the tip against the little nub. The tongue began to flutter up and down over the swollen little nub, drawing in vestiges of sweet nectar in the process. Of course, it wasn't quite so sweet to Penny as it would have been to most women-loving-women, but that didn't mean she couldn't handle the taste if it was to please her favourite person in the whole world.

"Is this good?" she breathed against the moistened lips a minute later.

"Y-yeah!" Not that she could explain it, but Penny's actions had her weak at the knees. Just like always. In their rare moments together, Ruby always favoured her lover to her own hand. It didn't matter if it was Penny's skill or because it was her delivering it – Penny always managed to have her moaning, which she did so rather loudly.

Hearing that Ruby was responding well, she began to stroke up and down the folds again as her tongue took care of things up at the top. She knew from explanations and previous encounters that stimulating both was even more erotic to her partner than just one or the other. And the moans kept on coming! Now growing louder in volume, her partner couldn't help but squirm in her seat that bit more, trying to hitch herself closer to the assaulting tongue. Already she could feel herself beginning to grow warm, begin to feel a few beads of sweat falling down her cheeks as her spare hand went to hit the window, finding anything to ground herself.

The way Ruby was trembling told Penny that she was definitely getting somewhere, and relatively quickly. Deciding not to take her chances guessing at things, she drew back as her fingers continued to glide up and down and whispered to her love, softly and as sensually as she could manage. "Do you want my fingers inside?"

"Yes! Holy SHIZ, yes!" she moaned back. In all honesty, her mind was so clouded with pleasure she barely knew what was said; she only knew she needed Penny's mouth back where it was, back to performing its magic on her body.

"Okay," she breathed against her soft wetness before wrapping her lips around the throbbing clit once more, her fingers just beginning to edge past the boundaries of her body. Only the certain knowledge that Ruby wanted them there kept her from worrying about hurting her, or that they were doing something they shouldn't be.

"Oh!!! O-OH! Penny!" Fantastic! That was all she could think as she felt Penny's digits push their way into her body. Over and over again they ground against her inner walls, teasing her flesh and sending tingles of joy through her body. Yet again, she felt herself growing warmer, felt her end beginning to come in sight.

Then, just when Penny's hand was speeding up, aiming to bring her off in record time and with record levels of ecstasy… there was a knock on the window.

"H-HAAAH?!"

Both the shock of the sudden interruption and the increasing speed of Penny's fingers was enough to have Ruby jolting upright, and pleasure spurring through her body. She climaxed, able to feel her muscles clamping down onto Penny's finger for that short moment they were in there. Thankfully for her, it wasn't enough to get her usual, messy reaction; but enough to give clear evidence she was finished.

And then she looked toward the source of the noise, and her heart stopped.

"Can't do that out in public like that, kids!" said a large man in a blue uniform, complete with mirrored sunglasses. A cop. They were sitting there in their car, giving Ruby an orgasm, and being glared at by a police officer.

It was both embarrassment and the heat from her dwindling orgasm that made Ruby Rose's face go entirely red. Still panting heavily, she looked back at the cop with wide eyes for a moment, before very hurriedly patting the pack of Penny's head to get her to move, and withdraw her fingers.

"I-I'm so sorry!" She barely had the breath to speak! Let alone string an excuse together.

The policeman had been pulling out his ticket pad, clearly intending to cite them for something minor as a reminder not to do such things again – until he noticed Penny's moist face, her nervousness and shame at having been caught. His brown features seemed to lighten a shade. Blinking, he glanced between the two of them, obviously uncomfortable.

"R-right. I'll, uh, let you… girls off with a warning, this time, I guess. Just, uh… just try to find more privacy in the future." Then he nodded to himself, cleared his throat, and turned to go back to his squad car.

"I-I… Uh, w-we will… T-thank you, officer!" was all Ruby could shout as she watched him walk away – not that it would likely be heard. He was already gone by the time she called up properly. Soon after she took a moment to regain her breath again, before slowly covering her mouth. They'd just done things in public. Got caught, by a cop of all people! They'd managed to escape a ticket by a fraction, something they probably wouldn't be able to do again.

And yet all Ruby seemed to be able to do was begin to giggle to herself, until it turned into an outright laugh. "I can't believe we did that!"

"I can't believe being in a lesbian relationship actually has a benefit," Penny was breathing, eyes still on the officer as she eased back into her own seat. "Did you see his face? He looked as if he was going to faint, interrupting two women!"

"I know! Holy Toledo, that was so lucky…" Ruby quickly glanced out the window to continue to watch as he returned to his car, before looking back to Penny again. Her cheeks were still red as anything, but she didn't care; she was still laughing and giggling away to herself. "No one will ever believe this!"

"They won't!" A mischievous glint crept into Penny's eyes. "Did you want to take a selfie of us with the cop car in the background, as proof, perhaps?"

"Oh my god…" Ruby was still wearing that ridiculous grin, clearly assuming Penny was joking about such a thing. But when noticing her expression remained unchanged, she looked toward her, and then smirked. "You know what? I'm always wanting to find stuff to post to Snapchat…"

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya AU: Half a Soul

Okay, maybe third time’s the formatting charm? I apologize for submitting this three times, but the formatting failure is something I’m taking a little personally.

——

Max raised an eyebrow at what his classmate was saying. “You want me to barter my ‘soul’ for ‘safekeeping’?”

“Well… basically,” Juleka admitted.

“I must admit this is a novel approach. Usually when I come across ‘sell your soul’ scams, they’re promising things like wealth, power, intellect, or greater sexual endowments. This is the first I have heard of someone wanting my ‘soul’ for the purpose of keeping it ‘safe’. I feel a need to ask why.”

“Yeah, those things were probably scams, just not in the way you thought… Basically, there’s a… demon… that has targeted our class with the intent to take their souls through bargain or trickery and make them into her slaves. My… benefactor… and I want to stop her.”

“And you concluded that the best way to prevent her from getting our ‘souls’ was if you already had them.”

“In a nutshell.”

“Such an action would be in character with what I have observed of you in the past, presuming your portrayal of the situation is accurate. However, I shall first need proof that souls exist and can be taken to even consider this agreement possible. If you can provide such proof, I shall of course have further questions on the mechanics behind such a thing.”

“Yeah, we figured. You doubt the existence of souls and refuse to use the term even as hyperbole, which makes it that much harder to trick you out of yours. The problem is the demon we’re worried about is apparently very good at pushing people’s buttons without getting caught and we don’t have the time to do this subtly. So… we’ve prepared a demonstration if you can promise to keep everything discreet.”

“Very well, let me get Markov to record this for my own records and review.”

“I hope you understand that this information is very… sensitive.”

“I will instruct Markov to engage ‘client confidentiality’ protocols. No one but us will know what transpires here.”

——

Alya tried not to squirm as Max seemed to dissect her entire explanation with his gaze.

“You’re claiming that Marinette managed to unknowingly cause a literal demon to pull a Heel-Face Turn simply by being a good friend?”

“Er…” Alya fidgeted. “Yes?”

Max nodded. “I find this imminently plausible.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Marinette is one of the friendliest people I know. If anyone could redeem a literal demon of Hell through the power of friendship, it would be her.”

“So you agree to, er, loan us your soul for safekeeping until it is safe for us to return it?”

“If you can provide sufficient evidence for the existence of a soul and your ability to collect it, I will agree to a 24-hour trial basis with Markov monitoring me. If Markov detects any significant negative deviation in my demeanor by the time my soul is returned at the end of this agreed timeframe, the deal is off. If this is completed successfully, we will discuss further terms at that time.”

“That’s my cue,” Juleka said. “Alya, I agree to relinquish my soul to you in exchange for its return in an unaltered state ten seconds later.”

“Agreed,” Alya accepted as she plunged her hand into Juleka’s chest and withdrew an orb the size of a billiard ball that swirled with purples, indigos, and a streak of solid brilliant golden light.

“Fascinating.”

Alya then began tickling it.

“Hey!” Juleka protested as she fought against the giggles this action induced. “S-stop that!”

“Nope! Mine for five more seconds!”

Five seconds later, after much uncontrollable laughter on Juleka’s part, Alya put her soul back and turned to Max. “Is that proof enough?”

“While I still have my doubts, it is good enough for now. I will agree to you taking custody of my soul for precisely 24-hours after which it will be returned. I will make no other conditions and instead judge your intentions - as recorded and analyzed by Markov - by what you do with such open-ended permissions. If Markov judges that I am in any way compromised by your possession of my soul, the it shall be Markov who decides whether to accept or reject any further deals between me or any other demon.”

“Wait, would that even work?” Juleka asked.

“I’m honestly not sure,” Alya admitted. “I don’t think anyone downstairs ever considered third party involvement in soul deals before… I guess we’ll find out together?”

“I suppose in the interest of mutual discovery we must proceed as-is.”

“Guess so,” Alya said as she stuck her hand into Max’s chest and tugged.

And tugged.

And tugged some more.

All to no effect.

“What seems to be the matter?”

“Your soul is… stuck,” Alya finished lamely before withdrawing her hand from Max’s chest in defeat.

“Stuck.”

“Forgive me,” Juleka interjected, “but how does a soul get ‘stuck’?”

“It doesn’t! Shouldn’t! It’s like… like half his soul just isn’t there!”

“You are saying that you can’t take my soul because half of it is already gone? That makes no sense.”

“No, it’s… You can’t just ‘take’ someone’s soul. Their soul is literally them in basically every way that counts. A person’s soul is bound to them as strongly as anything can be bound to anything. To take it, you either have to get the person to voluntarily relinquish that bond (whether they realize it or not) or you have to get them to commit a sin that is contrary to their sense of self to ‘loosen’ the bond (it helps if the sin is aligned to your demonic essence). It can actually get pretty nuanced because virtuous people are harder to convince to sin, while habitual sinners need a comparatively bigger sin to ‘knock their soul loose’. Having just half your soul means that the rest is anchored somewhere else, which means that I would need to loosen THAT bond as well before it will go anywhere!”

“What I’m hearing is that our… other demon… isn’t going to have any more luck taking Max’s soul that we are.”

“Well, yeah, but I just don’t understand!” Alya threw her hands in the air. “I mean, I’ve heard of this kind of thing, but it’s so rare it’s like an infernal urban legend! Sure you get artists ‘putting their soul into their work’ all the time, but that’s like a sliver at most! Something barely missed and easily restored in a week tops with a halfway decently healthy lifestyle! The number of people who can fully dedicate that much of their soul to ANYTHING are almost unheard of, and the side effects would have been debilitating! Forget the effort you put into your video games, this would have had to be on the level of a magnum opus the likes of which could never be repeated in your lifetime and involving an effort that would have nearly killed you!”

“Max was hospitalized from acute exhaustion after completing my construction and programming,” Markov supplied. “He was placed on three months of required bed rest and fluids before he was declared fit to return to school and was on a strict enforced sleep and rest schedule for a year before doctors proclaimed him fully recovered.”

Alya, Juleka, and Max all blinked.

“I recall that. I remember feeling like it had all been worth it because you were completed.”

“I too am grateful to have been completed.”

“Yeah,” Alya admitted after a moment, “that would probably do it.”

------------

third time's the charm i suppose.