#i know i'll be making a name for myself after i dropped that fic and i'll never see the end of it

[mare-sanguis]

i have a fic in my ao3 drafts and it's gonna be such a jumpscare

[yxngbxkkie]

just a fight (b.c)

hello!! it's been an extremely long time since i've posted any fics on here (or written them)! but i finally got the inspiration to write one for our lovely chris 🤭 i saw a tik tok from the new album intro and came up with this idea. i hope you all like it 🥰

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

It's about the fourth time in an hour that Chris has checked his phone, the frown on his lips staying there as there's still no texts from you. He releases a sigh before attempting to refocus on the task at hand; recording.

The two of you have been in an argument for the past two days. Longest time the two of you have spent angry at one another. You didn't argue often, so Chris is becoming a bit panicked when you don't text him on the third day.

“Hyung,” Changbin's voice snaps Chris from his thoughts, turning in his chair to face the younger member. “Is everything okay? I've never seen you this spaced out.”

Chris provides a fake smile, going to reassure him that everything is okay when his phone vibrates. He picks it up immediately, his heart dropping a bit when it's not you. He swipes away the notification without any thought, not really in the mood to converse with anyone.

“I'm okay, I guess,” he mumbles, setting his phone back on the desk. “Uhm, Y/N and I had an argument three days ago and…” Chris trails off, biting his lip to stop himself from crying.

“Have you tried calling?” Changbin asks, motioning for the other staff to give them a minute alone.

Chris blankly stares at the computer screen, moving the mouse around idly. “I get sent to voicemail,” he tells Changbin, not moving his gaze once.

“I'll try calling. This can't go on any longer. You can't work like this,” Changbin sighs, standing up from the couch. The younger member pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding your contact before calling your number.

Chris can hear the phone ringing, his heart beginning to beat a million miles a minute in his chest.

“Bin?” Your voice comes through the receiver, causing Chris to gasp lightly. He finally looks over towards Changbin, seeing him hold his phone out.

Take the phone. He motions, holding the device out to him. Chris hesitantly takes the phone as you continue to call out for Changbin.

“Y/N?” Chris calls out your name just after Changbin leaves the studio. He can hear your breath hitch at the sound of his voice, and he begins to think you might hang up. “B-Before you hang up… can we talk? Please?”

Silence fills the space as he waits for your reply. He swallows the lump in his throat, wondering if he's fucked up one of the good things in his hectic life.

“I'm really sorry, y'know? I've always had the habit of keeping shit to myself. You can ask the guys,” he starts to apologize, staring at your contact name. “I was doing really well on keeping you in tabs of everything, but these past few weeks have been pretty stressful. And, I know that's not a great excuse, but being cooped up in the studio hours on end has brought me back to my old ways. I should've told you what's been going on, but I promise, if you don't leave me that I'll change. I don't want to lose you.”

His heart is in his throat as he waits for you to say something, anything. When he hears you start to cry, his first instinct is for him to run to your apartment. “Baby–”

“How are you so perfect?” You whisper loud enough for him to hear. You sniffle and clear your throat before speaking again. “I should be so mad at you, Chris. But, you– you make it impossible to stay mad.”

“I'm sorry?” He mumbles, furrowing his brows in confusion.

A chuckle comes from your end, and his heart skips a beat. “It's okay. Uhm, are you busy? Is it okay if I come to you, or,” You offer to meet up, making Chris's heart race.

“Y-Yeah, no, yeah, you can come by. I'll let the front desk know. Text me when you get here?” He asks, a smile coming to his lips for the first time in three days.

“Of course, handsome. I'll see you soon, okay?” You reassure him.

~

You're nervous as you walk into the JYP building. You know everything's going to turn out okay, but for some reason, the nausea is still there. The receptionist clears you through, and you step into the elevator. After pressing the button for the floor Chris is on, you decided to take some deep breaths.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, seeing a single heart emoji text from Chris. Your heart flutters in your chest, beginning to believe that everything will be alright. The door to the elevator opens up, and you step out, walking in the familiar direction of the studio they're using.

When you round the corner to go down the slim hallway, you find Chris standing at the studio door. You stop in place, meeting his dark eyes. The first thing you notice is the bags under his eyes. A frown comes to your lips at how exhausted he looks.

“Baby,” you mumble and start walking towards him.

“You look good,” Chris smiles at you, his eyes a little glossy. “I missed you so much.”

Both of you wrap your arms around one another, embracing tightly. You tightly grip the shirt he's wearing as he takes in the scent of your perfume.

“I missed you, too, baby,” you sigh, combing your fingers through his hair with your free hand.

Chris holds on to you as if you'll disappear once he lets go. He moves both of you into the studio before shutting the door, giving you some privacy.

You pull away from him, keeping your hands on his forearms as you look back up at him. “Everything's gonna be okay, okay?” You reassure him, gently stroking his arms.

He nods his head, clearing his throat before wrapping you up in his arms again. “I honestly thought that this was the end, y'know?” He mumbles into your neck, kissing the skin lightly.

“I'm in love with you, Chris. I don't ever want this to end,” you tell him while massaging the back of his head.

His hands slip under the hoodie you're wearing, a breathy sigh leaving his lips at the feeling of your soft skin. You bring your hands to his face, making him look at you before your lips meet his.

Chris moans into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening. “God,” he mumbles, pulling away for a quick second. He reconnects his lips to yours, putting some more passion into the kiss. “I love you.”

You can't help but giggle, resting your forehead against his. “You make me feel like I've got a high school crush, you know that?” You ask him while placing one of your hands to your chest, feeling how fast your heartbeat is.

“I feel the same about you, baby,” he grins, dimples on full display. Chris grabs a hold of your hands as silence fills the room. He intertwines your fingers, keeping his gaze on them.

“You okay, baby?” You ask him quietly, squeezing his hands. “Talk to me.”

He lifts his head, the smile still there, and he nods. “I'm okay. I'm just– really happy that you're back and that we're okay,” he releases a deep breath, bringing your hands to his lips, peppering the backs of them in kisses.

“I'm afraid you're stuck with me,” you joke with him.

“I wouldn't want it any other way, baby,” Chris pulls you close to him, capturing your lips in another kiss.

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @foxinnie8

[accioscarheadthings]

heyy, i love ur fics and love you so much 💗💗💗💗

can you give us a more of switch! kenji, begging for fem!reader's attention from the ultramine series?

i loved him in the series and wanna see more of him

thank you smm😩💖of courseee, i hope you enjoyy <33

Dirty Monologue

after the events of ultramine series

warning: smut 18+, use of petnames (baby, darling, sweetheart), switch!kenji, breast play, edging, cum eating, slight degradation

summary: post Giants afterparty, you and kenji take a cab home and kenji gets needy for you.

masterlist !

after a big party that was hosted by the baseball team, you and kenji clambered into the backseat of a taxi.

you were wearing a beautiful satin dress with a slit that opened at your thighs, while kenji was in formals, covered from head to toe in black.

you both were giggling and whispering to each other, but the driver was patient and didn't seem to mind the pair of you.

You snuggled closer to Kenji, resting your head on his shoulder as the city lights flickered past the windows.

while you were more quiet and introspective in your drunken state, satisfied with little touches, kenji was the complete opposite.

he was clingy and affectionate, his arm around your shoulders and his body pressed against yours. he nuzzled his face against your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear and occasionally planting sloppy kisses on your cheek.

"you have no idea how much i want you,"

"patience, handsome," you chided, pressing a smooch to his nose, " y'know patience is a virtue,"

kenji scoffed, his face flushing from your tender kiss, "i don't care about virtues when it comes to you," his voice dropped an octave, eyes drooping and raven locks falling all over his forehead.

you brushed them back out of habit, hand caressing his flushed cheeks.

"want you. now. here. please," he mumbled, emphasising each word, leaning closer to your lips.

you met him in the middle, ghosting your open mouth over his as your ring clad fingers cupped his chin.

you pulled back without a word, smirking down at him.

kenji looked like he was splashed in the face with cold water. your teasing had hauled him out of his drunken state.

"prove it, then," you leaned on your seat, eyes fixed ahead on the road.

what you hadn't noticed was kenji's cocky smile spread his face.

you stiffened when you felt his breath on your neck one second; the other, his tongue tracing a drunken path to your ear.

"I want to touch you, to taste you, to make you moan my name,"

one of his hand settled on your bare knee, rubbing circles.

"I want to lose myself in you, to forget the world for a moment, and exist only in this moment, with you,"

kenji's mouth travelled down your collarbone, his hair tickling your skin. you squirmed in place.

"I know what you like," he simpered, sucking on your sweet spot again. "I have every inch of you memorized,"

his hand slid up your thigh through the slit of your dress, squeezing the flesh slightly as he placed kisses along your jawline, his scruff tickling the column of your throat.

you gasped, slapping your hand over his, "kenji,"

"shh, don't interrupt me," he caught your hand and brought them to his lips, kissing each knuckle with such care, "or i'll be forced to punish you," his other hand slipped behind your back, grabbing your ass possessively, "you know i don't have a problems about putting you over my knee and spanking you until you can't sit right for a week,"

"fuck," you whimpered, eyes dazed at it had nothing to do with the alcohol you had consumed.

"all the pretty little sounds that leave these lips," he thumb traced your lips, tugging your bottom one and watching your lips part.

by now your breathing was ragged and came out in gasps.

he withdrew his hands from you, causing you to shrink in your place.

desperate for more, but too prideful to ask for it.

and kenji knew it. that's why he enjoyed getting you all soft in his hands.

kenji pressed the button that closed the blind betwen the driver's seat and back seat, turning back to you with all his attention.

"now, back to my promise," he loomed over you, one hand caging you between the door and his body.

his other hand slipped betwen your thighs, fingers cold.

hissing at his touch, you clamped your legs around his fingers, our core clenching around nothing.

"ah-ah, none of that," he spread your legs lightly, enough for him to access, "want you all spread for me, baby,"

his fingers circled on your clothed cunt, tracing your puffy lips.

"I want to feel your skin against mine, your body against mine, to be so close to you that I don't know where I end and you begin."

you noticed his hard-on through his pants, and the awkward position he was sitting on.

without thinking, you touched him, cupping roughly.

kenji whined, face settling into the crook of your neck, "darling-"

"keep talking," you cooed into his ears softly, rubbing your palm against his groin.

two can play this game.

"mmph," his voice was muffled against your skin. his teeth caught the strap of your dress and he slipped it down your shoulder, revealing more skin to pay attention to.

kenji kissed all over your shoulder, groaning against your skin when you gripped his length.

"I want to take you to the edge," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "And then bring you back, again and again, until you're breathless and trembling and unable to form a coherent thought,"

his finger rubbed against your sopping core, catching on your clit with the right pressure.

you hand fell from his crotch, caught off-guard by his actions.

kenji was back in control now.

he cupped one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple and feel it erect under his touch.

"I want to make you mine, to claim you and mark you so that you'll always remember this moment, and always know who you belong to,"

pushing your panties to the side, he pushed two fingers into your pussy.

kenji groaned at how wet your were, "so wet and ready," he shuddered against you, "s'taking everything in me to not fuck you against the window for everyone to see what a needy slut you are," he emphasised with a curl of his fingers.

you gasped aloud, goosebumps rose in your skin as a result of his words.

he felt you clenching around his fingers and added another, "taking me so well, my love," he rasped.

"mine. all mine," he traced his tongue up the column of your throat, licking your sweat, "mine to love, mine to worship,"

he squeezed your breast, palm slipping to your hip, thumb caressing your pudgy stomach.

"mine to fuck," he increased his pace, and when you moaned, he smushed his lips against yours, swallowing your whines.

he increased his pace, pumling his fingers in and out vigoursly. you gripped his hair, kissing him so hard you were sure your lipstick was smudged.

"k-ken," you panted, "m'close," you felt your orgasm build, rising steadily in you.

just before you could come, kenji pulled back.

he withdrew his hands without a words and brought them to his lips, locking eyes with you as he sucked them clean.

he settled into his seat beside you, adjusting his clothes and tugged at his pants to conceal his painfully hard-cock.

you lipstick was smeared all over his mouth, and he brandished them proudly, chin lifting with a grin.

he adjusted your dress and faced forward, leaving you all hot and bothered.

tit for tat

you stared at him in bafflement, eyes wide and blinking, "are you kidding me?"

"patience is a vitrue sweetheart," he parroted your words, "you taught me that,"

you deadpanned at him, "jerk," you turned away with a huff, watching the passing city through the window.

kenji pouted at you teasingly, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you on his lap, "just wait till we get home, my love," his mouth pressed to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, "gonna ruin you tonight," he thumbed at the lipstick smudged on your mouth.

you turned and gripped his face, squishing his face. his glassy eyes, your lipstick across his mouth and cheeks, his chest rising and falling, his fluffy raven hair...

you could just eat him up.

"you better make it up to me for all the teasing, kenji sato," you spoke in a low voice, eyes demanding.

kenji captured your lips in a soft kiss, conveying his promises for the night, "yes ma'am,"

[pityroadart]

Here's my piece for the @mcspirkevents Big Bang! I was paired with the excellent @twinkboimler and their fic Jim Kirk's Guide to Delivering the Goods, which you can find here (E, AOS McSpirk, 60k)

Summer just started, and Jim is bored out of his mind. The courses he needs to take aren’t being offered until the second half of the summer, so he has an entire month to bother his roommate Bones. At Bones’ suggestion to get a job, Jim fixes up a motorbike and starts making deliveries to people in town, including a cute Vulcan professor named Spock. But when Jim is beaten up while making a delivery, it’s Spock who delivers Jim back to the apartment he shares with Bones. After the meet-cute from hell, Spock and Bones start dating… and so do Jim and Spock. With neither roommate aware they’re both dating the same man, there’s only so long that things can go well for them before the other shoe finally drops.

Also as part of my Big Bang offerings, I made a fic playlist (below) — partly a love letter to McSpirk, partly a love letter to myself and Fletcher's overlapping music taste.

Thank you again to Fletcher @twinkboimler for working on this project with me, it's been an absolute joy!

Until the Birds Return on Spotify

Tracks and choice lyrics below the cut (contains vague spoilers):

Astronaut | Future Crib

I wanna be an astronaut Fly into space I wanna see Mars from Venus I wanna go to that place And if you come with me They'll be room in my ship I'll take you up there with me It can be just you and me

Afraid of Heights | boygenius

I never rode a motorcycle I never smoked a cigarette I wanna live a vibrant life But I wanna die a boring death

Day by Day | Old Sea Brigade

Time and time again, I think I'm falling through space And I wake up in my bed just sweating in sheets

... Then I think of you growing old and it breaks my heart

Factories | Autoheart

When you found my body by the lake You wasn't sure if I was still alive

You and Your Friend | Snake River Conspiracy

Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed To the loving happiness that we can share I think I'm in love with you and your friend

My Gal, My Guy | Darlingside

My (guy) he's the bluest ocean, (he) Waits under the bluest sky for me I belong to (him) When I'm in the water

Santa Fe | Autoheart

Heaven sent You were like a present I should not have kept A sticker on your forehead saying 'breakable And I broke you bad

Coat on a Hook | The National

Two days, we're still not talking You're the opposite of an open book Come back for me

Top to Toe | Fenne Lily

So I'm changing all my days To make your nights It's just not right

Pigeon Song | Patrick Wolf

Now the pigeons gather 'round my feeding hand And we talk 'til the evening fades I have learnt how it goes What you wait for never shows And what you least wanted, holds you down like a stone

Hornets | The National

But I don't wanna leave And I don't wanna hide I just don't wanna run Into you tonight

Tea, Milk & Honey | Oh Pep!

If you stick with me, I'll make sure your time is all right If you don't understand where I am now, it's better if we leave it

The Spiritual | Jukebox the Ghost

We might have kissed a bit too soon I could feel what was coming and I didn't mean to hurry you I just knew that time would find our fingers linked, through and through Forgive me, I'm human too

Bike Dream | Rostam

Two boys, one to kiss your neck And one to bring you breakfast Get you out of bed

Don't Go | Yazoo

Can't stop now Don't you know I ain't never gonna let you go

Jenny | The Mountain Goats

I hopped on back of the bike, wrapped my arms around you I sank my face into your hair And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on 900 cc's of raw whining power, no outstanding warrants for my arrest

Old Old Fashioned | Josh Ritter (Frightened Rabbit cover)

Oh let's get old fashioned Back to how things used to be If I get old, old fashioned Would you get old, old fashioned with me?

[w2soneshots]

could you write about being at school with harry as your mate/ friend thta you fancy? need something get me tgrough this shithole of a school🙏

Highschool sweethearts -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: light angst, pining, making out.

summary: you and Harry both fell for each other, though nether of you wanted to admit it. One night, at a party on the beach, things change.

notes: I’ve never done a young Harry fic but I had so much fun writing this! Hope you’re okay lovely, you’ve got this!!🤗💞🌟

I watched as Harry walked towards me, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. "Hey, y/n?!" I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah?" I wondered what he wanted, I'd been avoiding him recently since I caught feelings and don't want to ruin our friendship.

"You going to the party tonight, at the beach?" He asked, leaning against the locker next to mine. "Uh- I dunno..." "oh come on! It'll be fun... please?" He stared at me, awaiting an answer. I thought for a second before nodding. "Okay, okay, I'll go." He swiftly pushed himself off of the locker. "Yes! Great! see you later."

My mind was whirling as I got ready, all of the possible outcomes of tonight running through my head. It's currently summer in Guernsey so it's pretty warm outside, though it'll get cooler once it gets dark, so I grabbed a jacket before I left.

As I walked to the beach I tried to calm myself down. I wasn't sure why I was getting so worked up over the boy I've been friends with since primary school but it was definitely becoming a problem. I couldn't be near him without going bright red if his arm grazed mine or he smiled at me. It was extremely annoying.

When I got there I spotted my friends. I walked over to them and sat down on one of the beach towels laid out. One of my friends nudged my arm. "Guess who's coming over?" She whispered into my ear with a teasing tone. I sighed. "For fuck sake... Harry," I muttered to myself.

"Hey! You made it." Harry plonked himself next to me, with a cheerful smile. "Mhm," I replied, dryly. "You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed. "Yes, I'm fine." I smiled, trying to reassure him. He didn't look convinced but thankfully he dropped it.

As it started to become dark some of the boys set up a fire that we all sat around. Harry left me alone after our previous encounter but I caught him staring multiple times. Some of my friends were now extremely drunk, I had decided at the start of the night that I wasn't going to drink and it seemed like Harry had done the same.

As it approached two in the morning people began heading home. I was dreading the dark walk back to my house. "y/n?" I heard my name so I turned. It was Harry once again. When he had my full attention he continued, "did you want me to give you a ride home?"

I thought for a moment. "Uh- yes please," I put on a smile. He smiled back, though his was genuine. "Come on then, let's go." He turned and we walked side by side to his car. I got into the passenger seat, buckled myself in and then he turned the engine on.

The drive was silent, the only noise being the wind coming in through the open window. I sighed softly, leaning my head against the side of the car and wrapping my jumper around myself. "You alright?" He asked. "Mhm, just tired."

When he pulled up in front of my house I turned to him. "What's going on with you?" He asked abruptly. I was slightly taken aback. "Uhm... what do you mean?" "You know what I mean. You've been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" He seemed to be annoyed.

I sighed, realising I was going to have to stop putting off telling him the reason. "Okay, okay," I took a deep breath, "I- I think I... fancy you Harry." I said quietly, not looking into his eyes. "You- wait, you fancy me?" An embarrassed grumble left my mouth as I leaned forward to put my head in my hands.

The car was completely silent for a good fifteen seconds, though it felt like an eternity. "This is so stupid." I swiftly looked over at him. "What?" "You fancy me, I fancy you and nether of us told the other." He explained. Surprise covered my face. "You fancy me?" "Of course I do you donut." He laughed slightly.

I smiled back before leaning towards him, our faces only centimetres apart. He leaned forward, closing the gap between our lips.

When I eventually pulled away I opened my eyes to see him chasing my lips. "I've got to go, I'll see you at school?" His face softened. "Yeah,  yeah, okay bye." I kissed him one last time before getting out. He waved, waiting until I got into my house safe then drove home with a bright and content smile on his face.

[sonysakura]

🚫 My Sonic Big Bang 2024 Experience

...Or how a few months of my life were severely negatively impacted by someone else's bad management. See for yourself.

Proof of the rule they're speaking about being actively hidden from the participants to this day: FAQ – archived link, screenshot with "Who can participate?" on top, screenshot with "explicit" word search, screenshot with "nsfw" word search; Master Guide – screenshot with "explicit" word search, screenshot with "nsfw" word search; server rules – long screenshots of General Server Rules and StH Big Bang Specific Rules: Mar 12 and Jul 01, screenshots of Strike Policy: Mar 12 and Jul 01, long screenshot of General Guidelines, long screenshot of Collaboration Thread Guidelines.

I feel like this is extremely unfair 😭 One moment I was participating in the event I dreamed about for years, and the next moment I'm thrown out into the cold when I did nothing wrong. I need to get it off my chest...

Below, more about my experience with the event, though it ended up a little vent-y, a detailed (and verified!) record of what exactly happened in private thread #48, the aftermath and some fun facts I discovered or want to share:

First things first! Yep, I signed up for Sonic BB as a Writer back in January. I didn't talk about it outside of my server 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise – when I roll out a lo-o-ong illustrated fic without a warning. I'll admit, I always wanted to participate in a Big Bang for this fandom, it was a dream of sorts. And still, before sending my form in, I carefully read all of the Master Guide and the FAQ both. Seeing as how for my neurodivergent brain the rules and regulations are important, that's what I usually do for events, and this one wasn't an exception. Confident that I understand what the event would require of me, I signed up.

First month of the event went well. My questions were answered (even though I wondered why some of the things I asked couldn't have been in the Master Guide from the beginning), I wrote my fic summary and submitted it without many problems, etc. There was a small hiccup at the very beginning of March when I noticed how strict the management seemed to be (no changes or adjustments allowed), and my anxiety got the best of me, so I asked the mods if there's a plan in case a collab team doesn't work out: screenshot of my message in #writers-info-and-questions, pulled from my Discord data; screenshot of my detailed explanation in DMs; screenshot of Mod Joy's reply. Here are the most important quotes from his reply:

I understand wanting to plan for the worst case scenarios, but I would caution you not to freak yourself out over what all could go wrong! There are some absolutely lovely artists in this event who are excited to work with the writers. Odds are, things will go off without a hitch.

We are highly encouraging that no one drops out after the assignments, especially writers, unless due to extenuating circumstances.

We want to make everything as fun and stress-free for everyone. Know that we will be around to moderate threads and dissolve any tensions that arise,..

In short, I was placated with reassurances of careful moderation, not dropping writers and ✨positivity✨. I decided to stay and challenge myself since originally BB is meant to be a challenge and all...

For those of you who haven't participated: the way it is supposed to go is that writers submit short summaries of their stories, these summaries are stripped of the writers' names and given to artists to pick through. The artists then have to list their Top 10 stories to illustrate during the claims period. After the claims, private collab threads are made for each writer and their artists with a couple of mods. So no one else could see what happens in these threads.

Now flashforward to March 11th and the threads being created. Obviously I don't have screenshots of that due to being kicked off the server without any warning and before any chance of communication, unable to delete my personal information or save anything that might be used against me which was a case of poor management at best and a deliberate move at worst, so I'm retelling as faithfully as possible. It also has been verified by [artist 1] and according to them, this is exactly what happened.

My fic was in the 4-8k range, and I got two artists. I was asleep when the thread opened, and they talked about how excited they are for my fic before I came in. Both of them are 18, young but adults. I’ll call them [artist 1] (they're cool), and the other one is [artist 2]. Both artists seemed to talk to me normally.

Oh, I have to point out that there were hmm, Mods Chaz, Joy, Summers and Frostios in my thread. I think only four of them, but I know for sure Mod Summers was reading our conversation at least in the beginning because I noticed my fic's Warnings saying "None" (the original summary I submitted had Warnings: Discussion of Homophobia, Slight Internalised Homophobia), and I pointed out that there are warnings, though I don't know if they were lost just now or weren't in the sheet available to the Artists either, and whether they were actually lost or mods didn't consider it a big enough warning to keep... I still don't know. Mod Summers just silently pinned my message.

I mentioned how I'm in one of the Asian timezones geographically, so I might be awake or asleep at unconventional times, and they told me their timezones (I didn't ask!), so I figured I can make a timebuddy chart for easy tracking what time it is for everyone. Made one, sent the link to the thread, Mod Summers asked me if I want it pinned, too, and then a couple of hours later (I think?) [artist 1] came and said it's very helpful. This is my evidence for at least Mod Summers probably reading the conversation that followed but also maybe not. I think all of the mods were online or at least visually online when it was happening.

This is where I reveal that the entire conversation happened in like... one afternoon 🥲 Roughly 7 pm to 2 am for me.

Back to the conversation itself. There were a few questions I had so I started with them, basically 1) if they've read my fics before (explained that I'm asking so I know whether I need to tell them about my writing style and Sonadow dynamics I write); 2) do they want me to send in scenes as I write them or they want a full draft; 3) if they have any immediate questions for me. Question 1) is what we need. Both of them said they've never read my stuff before, and that they don't have any questions now but they want art to be as close to text as possible, so they will ask in the future. This is how it went down after (as per my memory, artist rendition I guess):

[artist 1]: I haven't read your fics but I'd like to! Your Ao3 is the same as your handle? [no link]

Me: It isn't a requirement, you don't have to! But that's right. I have to warn you though that I usually rate my Ao3 profile as 18+ when I link it, though 33/36 of my Sonic fics are rated G and T, and I feel like a warning is in order anyway so people don't accidentally stumble upon something they don't want to see and know what to avoid/filter out. [I didn't post any links or encouraged the artists to read my profile, just made a warning to be cautious]

We go into discussion of how long I have been writing, [artist 1] shows no problems with knowing my Ao3 has 3 Mature fics, I describe what series my fic will be for [the series is completely SFW, and even then I didn't post the link to it] and go into details of how I write Sonadow dynamics in my fics without mentioning the NSFW ones obviously, we speak about Question 2).

[artist 2]: [replying to my warning about my Ao3] ooohh so you write gore sometimes?

Me: Nah, I don't actually, I'm pretty uncomfortable with it tbh, so no, I don't. Some blood and a quick description of Maria's dead body is the most I have ever done 😅 All the angst I make characters go through is emotional rather than physical!

[artist 2]: oh I shouldn't have assumed, sorry. It's just the first thing my mind went to

Me: It's okay! I've been a medical student at some point and I think I've just had enough of that - one of the main reasons I'm not a doctor but a linguist.

[artist 1] gets excited about this for some reason, and we chat about it for a moment.

Normal conversation continues like...

Me: Okay, where were we

[artist 2]: i wasn't paying attention errr

Me: Me neither! But it's Question 3)

I go into saying how them wanting to draw as close to the text is 💯 what I wanted to hear because for me my texts are an extension of my soul, I'm fragile about them, and I'd prefer the art to be exactly according to it blah-blah-blah, I describe my thoughts about a plan of work for us and how I'm going to share pieces of my fic according to their respective wishes.

[artist 1]: Sounds great!

[artist 2]: yeah, sounds good

[artist 1] says something else which I just react with an emoji to, and I start getting ready for sleep because it's almost 2 am, and I have to get up at 6 am.

Nothing else was said in the thread. That's it.

I got to bed and as most people nowadays I check my phone one last time. I see [artist 2] requesting a mod they can DM to, but I don't think much of it…

So 6 am. I wake up and again, as most people nowadays, I check my phone. I went to sleep in a good mood, seemingly in good relations with my artists, excited for the collab and having a solid plan everyone agreed to, so I eagerly open Discord to see if they wrote anything new in the thread. I see no Sonic Big Bang 2024 server.

I will not go into too much detail about my state, but I have an extremely acute reaction to stress very similar to a panic attack that lasts for hours. So with shaking fingers I open my DMs to see the message from that first screenshot I started my post with. The following exchange with me learning about the hidden rule happens the next day. Unfortunately, before that I still have to go to work for a full day in that very same mental state, oof. Plus I have no breaks on Tuesday... I go back and forth all day with my friends about how shitty this situation is, and one of them asks me how [artist 1] reacted. I say that I don't know, but they still follow me on Tumblr so I go and message them, and from what they tell me, it sounds like a mod pretended to them that I was removed because of an existing rule that's stated somewhere. They didn't argue with that, and that's understandable of course.

At home, I notice one of the event mods blocked me.

It is difficult to explain what's happening in my mind without going into details of what my [disorders] are, but things that are unfair, things that are injustice put my brain in a loop until all wrongs are righted. I'm ranting about it to friends, and I think about it day and night. On March 14th I vent about it in the tags of a related reblog, and this is the only instance of me talking about StH BB on my blog. Next morning I'm blocked by the event blog and over the next 2 weeks – by two more mods, while another mod speaks to me passively-aggressively in a shared Discord server. Then I'm shown a screenshot where one of the mods claims I offered my Ao3 to my artists (I didn't) and implies everyone who writes NSFW is dangerous. And then I receive a hate ask about the event, calling me "creepy"... All this time, my brain is still stuck in a loop, and let me tell you – it's not fun. It doesn't help that my first reaction to everything that makes me feel bad is always to assume I'm at fault for everything, and seeing how hostile people are to me, I'm drowning in self-blame. Without going into any more detail, it takes me 2 months and a lot of help to somewhat recover, so I finally send my reply to Headmod Chaz and receive one back:

If you got to this part, you know that half of Headmod Chaz's reply is simply untrue since there were no "multiple instances", and in any case I was never asked to keep quiet about my ban (and why should I?). I sent another reply a month later expressing my confusion and wondering when the messages will be removed (only my intro was removed). As of today, that reply is still ignored, and the messages aren't removed 🤷

And this is the entirety of my Sonic Big Bang 2024 experience. Now for some Q&A:

Why did you wait so long to make this post? I didn't want to put any participants under fire, particularly my friends because I'll admit, the mods seem like petty people. And also I was worried about throwing shade on other participants (people associating their works with this) or spoiling the event for people who were genuinely having fun with it. Thus, I waited until it was over!

Is this a callout post? According to definition as "public criticism or asking someone to explain their actions", I think it is – in terms of calling out bad management. It is definitely not a call for harassment. There is a reason I censored some names and left vague who reported me, blocked me, was hostile to me or spread rumours about me. Please don't bother anyone, and if the mods decide to engage with this, they can post their own statement.

Aside from the above reasons, why make a post at all? Two reasons: a personal one and an altruistic one. Firstly, I hope to get closure this way since I still feel like I was unjustly thrown away when I was just being a dutiful person. Secondly, while Headmod Chaz said they will be transparent about this rule next time they run an event, as you can see they fully ignored my suggestion of doing it now, and in general keeping a rule hidden to such an extent where you lie in your FAQ is pretty shady... I don't trust them not to do it again next year.

Is it okay to reblog the post/reply to it, what about sending an ask or a PM? Yes to all. I don't expect anyone to reblog, though if you think it's necessary, go on. I'm posting it to the event tags, so-o I think people who need to see it – will see it. If you decide to be negative or call me names, however, be prepared to be blocked by IP or username.

Finally, fun facts as promised 🔥

There are other participants out there who have had negative experiences with BB or were made uncomfortable by the way it was managed, but I'm not going to speak for them;

There was this whole thing with hypocrisy and possible favouritism;

Despite the mods insisting on ME being quiet about my ban, it's now known that they shared information about it outside the mod group;

Out of 6 mods: 5 have me blocked, 2 were passive-aggressive with 1 of them going as far as verbally lash out at me in DMs, and only 1 mod gave me a human apology (not pictured in screenshots);

I saw 3 NSFW writers and at least 2 NSFW artists participating in BB just by scrolling through my dash, without seeking them out, and this is not counting people I noticed in the server prior to me being banned;

Some people are posting Mature and Explicit extras and sequels/prequels to their BB stories already;

The artist who reported me seems to have dropped out anyway;

There's a joke reason why I'm making a post, too: I have to earn being blocked from the event blog since they said they did it because of multiple instances of me talking about my removal;

I'm actually grace and most of the time write my characters as aspec, and I'm exploring what sexuality and intimacy mean for me through writing, so this situation felt a little... like gatekeeping;

My fic was #48 under the title Chao Care 101, and I want you to give me a high five if you had it among your top choices 🖐

Originally, I wasn't going to complete my BB fic because it made me feel bad, but now I've decided I want to reclaim it, so I'm writing it now. Almost 8k words at the moment. It will be published. And it will be illustrated;

Meanwhile, what came out of this disaster is Sonic Supernova 2025, and I recommend you all to keep an eye out for this inclusive Big Bang-like event 🌟

[cxvii666]

WHY'S THIS DEALER? TAKING THE PISS?!

cw: recreational drug use, bad language, reader is a dealer (loosely based on my last encounter with a fem plug), idiots in love, 21st century love at first sight,

- eventually will be a multi part fic im prolly gonna upload on ao3 but for now standalone

(i make myself laugh)

and here's part two

it's all denki's fault.

i mean it's normally denki's fault, (with a mixture of himself, kirishima, and mina, depending on the context, the situation, or, who bakugou is most mad at), but this time, it is DEFINITELY ALL DENKI'S FAULT.

"dude cmonnnnn. i already promised everyone i'd score for the party."

trust denki kaminari to make promises he can't keep.

so this is where hanta sero ends up, on the corner of the road, in miserable weather, freezing his ass off, waiting for this dealer. it's just gone half ten and hanta's not a fool, so when he saw the "i'll be der for 10" message pop up on his phone, he didn't leave his dorm till quarter past. but now his vape is dead, his phone is on like 10%, and his fingertips are cold, so yeah, he's a little bit pissed off. pissed at himself for not buying a new geek bar, pissed at denki for begging and whining and promising to 'let him have first draw', and pissed at this dickhead for taking their sweet time.

it's a new guy, the dealer. well at least, the number denki gave him was different than usual and their style of texting was nothing like the guy he usually picks up from. hanta likes to think he's relatively chill dude, but if this fucker, who charges even more for a 3.5, doesn't hurry up, he's gonna crash out.

after another slow ten minutes and another "yh man im almost there" text, a car finally pulls up in front of him. he stamps out what's left of his roll up and pushes himself off the fence he was leaning on as the car window slides down.

hanta fumbles and nearly drops his phone out of his hands when he sees you, sat in the drivers seat.

pretty half lidded eyes stare at him, he thinks he hears kendrick playing from your aux but he can't be sure because he's so caught up in you. fingers tapping rhythmically against the wheel, you look up at him through your lashes and call out slow and tired,

"sero, yeah?"

and, oh my god, his family name has never sounded better than it did coming from your plush lips.

he nods dumbly before realising that you probably can't see him very well in the dim lighting of the side road. "yeah. yeah, that's me," he coughs out, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

you face breaks out into a shy smile directly contrasting the cold stare down you'd be giving him before unlocking the car.

"omg, cool! sorry for making you wait so long! i know it's cold, d'you wanna hop in the passage seat rq?" and hanta doesn't even have time to internally debate the pros and cons of getting into a complete strangers car, because his feet are already carrying him across the road and into your front seat.

as he settles into your passenger seat, you slide your chair back the slightest and start rummaging around in a clearly well loved black leather handbag. hanta tries to still, or at least calm, his beating heart. you look strangely familiar, like he's met you in a dream or something. he takes a deep breath and remarks how your car smells faintly of oranges and you begin, "so who gave you my number?"

"kaminari-"

"wow" you laugh, your top lip curling slightly, teeth showing, hanta thinks your so pretty, "you know kaminari? damn, that guy's in my prac maths class and he's-"

suddenly hanta cringes internally, mind flashing back to a scene, maybe a couple days ago, of him and denki hitting blinkers at the bus shelter outside campus, talking about something stupid, them joking about hanta's apparent lack of game (which is not true at all), and denki saying something about some pretty girl in his class who he smokes with sometimes and, in his words, was, 'exactly y'er type bro'.

"he's one of my roommates." is all he says though his lazy smile tenses slightly, no way denki planned this, right?

you hardly notice, rambling about your maths module, and the lack of work that got done between the two of you. you're trying to keep your voice even and not take too many glances at the hot guy, sero hanta, kaminari's cute roommate, who you had instagram stalked literally on the way over, while you were stuck in traffic, because you'd seen him on the blonde's story. it was some badly taken photo of a group of four guys all sat on top of each other on the same couch, two of them laughing, four beers and an open pack of amber leaf on the table. but sero, cheesing at the camera, sat on the thigh of a different blonde who seemed literal seconds away from punching his lights out, had caught your eye.

so to have him here, in your car, right next to you. so close you could practically smell him, and he smelt gooood, the standard stoner boy scent that you expected but with a mix of something spicy, lord-

when you finally look up to him from where you've been digging in your bag, phone in hand, hanta shuffles with the dead vape in his pocket trying to make it less obvious he'd spent the better part of five minutes just staring at you.

"speak of the devil." you shake your phone at hanta to take and on the screen is a recent chat between you and his best friend as well as a snap of him clearly drunk yelling at the camera from five- five minutes ago??

"he's so unserious." you laugh again, and take your phone back from hanta typing out a quick response then clicking your phone off. "you wanted an eighth yeah?"

hanta nods dumbly, still kinda shocked that denki pulled this off without him realising, and you pull out a little plastic bag with a couple nuggets inside and hand it to him.

he goes to grab the cash in pocket but you stop him with a gentle arm to his shoulder.

you drop your arm quick enough, overthinking your next actions but say anyway, "don't worry 'bout this one, yeah-"

"-what? nah 's fine i've got cash," he trails off, you're looking at him, beautiful wide eyes.

"no i've already made up my mind," you grin slowly at his slightly flustered state and for a moment neither of you talk. the song has long sinced changed and your radio is now playing an old rnb track he doesn't recognise but he finds himself relaxed in your presence.

"besides, i made you wait for so long, and," you continue quickly, your smile even wider, as hanta tilts his head to hide his flustered face. "you're a friend of a friend, right?"

when he finally makes his way back to the party, denki's there, cheesing like an idiot, and when bakugou asks why he took forever, and he parrots him "yeaah, sero, what took you so long?" slick as shit, hanta can't even bring himself to be pissed.

yeah it was denki's fault, but the weight of your number, your actual number, with your first name and a '<3' next to it, in his phone makes it worth it.

he throws the baggie of whats left of the bud to his 'friend' who is still wiggling his eyebrows and steals a vape off the table.

"dude stfu or i'm never picking up for you again."

[violetwanderer]

Target Practice

Din Djarin x Female Reader

Summary: Reader wants to learn how to shoot, and only Din can teach her. He finds a great way to motivate her to hit the targets

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, slight breeding kink, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, shooting

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've written a fic, so hopefully this isn't too bad. Also I had to look up some of the gun stuff lol

Masterlist

Do not copy or translate my works

"Will you teach me how to shoot a blaster?"

Din doesn't move from his seat in the cockpit, not even to look at you when you ask the question, but you know he heard you. He doesn't answer either, making you shuffle awkwardly and look down at your feet, feeling embarrassed to ask such a thing.

"Please," you beg, trying not to sound too pathetic. "If I'm going to be traveling with you, I should know how to defend myself, even if I'm just meant to stay on the ship."

You only met the man a few months ago when he came to the shipyard you worked at. The job paid very little, and honestly, not many ships landed there, leaving you stuck in a dead-end job until one fateful day when a Razor Crest landed in front of you and out stepped a Mandalorian looking for extensive repairs. You did the best you could with the limited supplies you had at work, improvising when you didn't have important parts. Thankfully, he was impressed with all the things you fixed, which led to him coming back a few more times and asking you specifically to fix his ship when it was damaged during his bounty hunting trips. After the fourth time, he asked if you would be willing to travel with him and become his mechanic while he tracked down bounties. The pay was much better than what you were receiving on that backwater planet, and it gave you the opportunity to travel the galaxy, so you said yes, even though you didn't even know his name. You only learned it a few weeks ago.

"Fine," Din answers curtly, still not looking back at you, even though the ship is in hyperspace and he doesn't need to pay such close attention to what's in front of him. "Next time we land, I'll teach you to shoot before I go after the quarry."

A smile spreads across your face, and you're glad you didn't have to try and convince him to teach you. Despite his gruff demeanour, Din has been pretty good to you. He's patient when repairs sometimes take a while or you don't have the right parts because it's been a while since you two have landed somewhere that sells them. The only rule he is strict about is his creed. You haven't even seen him without his gloves on, let alone his helmet. It's not a difficult rule to follow, though. He seems to only take it off when he's in his bunk.

Despite not knowing what he looks like, you can't help but feel attracted to him. The beskar armour makes him look large and intimidating, but you don't feel afraid of him. Watching him intimidate others, however, always has your thighs clenching together and wetness pooling in your underwear. This started about two weeks after you began traveling with him, and ever since then you've found yourself growing more and more turned on around him.

“When will we be landing?” You question eagerly, clasping your hands together.

“Soon,” is his only answer. You have gotten used to that, too. Din barely speaks, only relaying information when it's necessary. There's never any small talk with him, which you've learned to live with. Sometimes the silence is nice.

Landing can't come soon enough. You buckle in as Din prepares to drop out of hyperspace, and you see the planet you're going to land on. It appears to be quite green, covered in dense forests, and as you get closer, you can't see many settlements. You have a feeling he will have to travel quite a while to find the bounty while you stay behind and mind the ship. You'll feel safer now that he is going to teach you how to protect yourself with a gun.

Once the ship has landed, you remove your belt, quickly leaving the cockpit with a giddy feeling in your stomach. You've wanted to learn how to shoot a blaster for quite a while, but you didn't have access to any at your old job and you have always been too nervous to ask Din until now. He has plenty of weapons, and you're sure he won't mind you keeping one on your person while he's out of the ship. It would be pretty inconvenient for him to lose his live in mechanic.

You hear him slowly follow you down to the ramp, opening it for you and walking down first to quickly scan the area to make sure it's safe. Once he's satisfied, he turns back to where you're still standing on the ship.

“Wait out here,” he instructs you. “I'll get the blaster and some stuff for you to aim at.”

You nod and descend from the ramp, waiting patiently as he enters the ship and gathers what you will need.

Only two minutes later he returns, carrying a blaster that's smaller than the one he usually carries and some empty cans that the two of you haven't gotten rid of yet. Walking over to a log about 15 feet from where you stand, he lines the cans up on it, evenly spaced out, before returning to your side. He then holds out the blaster for you to take.

“You see this?” He taps a little switch on the side of it. “This is the safety. You turn it on when you're not using the blaster. Understand?”

You nod eagerly, buzzing with excitement and nerves. The weapon doesn't weigh much, but your hands feel weak just holding it.

Once Din has shown you this, he grabs one of your hands in his much larger one, placing it on the gun.

“Keep both hands on it for now,” he tells you, positioning your hands correctly. “It will help you with your aim.”

You try your best to soak up all this information, but your mind keeps slipping to how good his large hands feel over your much smaller ones. It would probably feel even better if he wasn't wearing gloves, but you'll take what you can get.

Din steps back finally once he is satisfied with how you hold the gun and has instructed you on your stance.

“Now, just aim and shoot,” he says, as if it's really that simple. Although for an excellent bounty hunter and fighter, it really is that simple. You're sure he's been doing this for years.

You take a deep breath, looking at the first can that rests on the log, and you slowly pull the trigger. The shot goes way above the can, hitting a tree behind it and leaving a mark on it. The force of the shot nearly makes you drop the weapon, but you manage to keep your grip on it. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at how bad you did.

“It's fine,” Din states from beside you. “Not everyone hits the target on their first attempt. Try again.”

You line up the shot again, aiming for the second can now. Once again, you pull the trigger and miss the target entirely. Your grip on the gun feels unstable as your hands begin to sweat. You quickly wipe them off your trousers before trying again, this time hitting slightly closer to your target.

You're growing frustrated with your constant failures, especially since Din is watching you intensely, seeing your mess ups each time. You repeat the process three more times before he lets out a sigh of irritation, making you feel humiliated. You must look like a fool to him. What if he thinks you won't be able to protect yourself and won't want to travel with you anymore? You could be a liability if you're unable to fight back and need to rely on him if things go south.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he orders you, approaching you and standing behind you. His hands reach out and move on top of yours, setting your aim right and moving you into the right position. His beskar-covered body is pressed right against yours, with his chest against your back and his hips brushing against your ass. Your breathing stops, feeling every part of him against you, and all you want is for you two to be like this under different circumstances.

“Pay attention.” Din's voice distracts you from letting your thoughts go any further. “We don't have all day.”

You do your best to ignore the feeling of his body against yours and take a deep breath, allowing his hands to guide yours to point the blaster at the target. You pull the trigger and hear a ping as the bullet hits the can, and it falls from the log and hits the ground.

“Good girl,” Din breathes in your ear, making your legs go weak. In an attempt to steady yourself, you lean back against him, but this just makes you more unsteady. He's pressed against you completely now, and you can't help but arch your back slightly, pushing your ass against his hips.

You can feel his bulge pressed against your behind, and it feels so good. Embarrassment burns through your body at what you just did, but before you can try to pull away from him, Din's hands grasp your hips and pull you right against him, his hands keeping you in place as you hear his breathing pick up and feel his cock grow harder in his flight suit.

“Stay right here,” Din hisses, his grip tightening. “If you hit every target, I'll give you exactly what you want, pretty girl.”

Your hands tremble slightly over the grip of the gun with excitement. You've wanted this for so long, and to hear that you're so close to getting it has your pussy soaking your underwear. With everything he has taught you kept in your mind, you aim at the can next to the one you have already shot, pulling the trigger and miraculously hitting it.

Din's hands move up from your hips to just below your breasts, his thumbs brushing against the underneath of them teasingly. You whine desperately, wanting his hands to go further, but clearly he has no intention of moving them.

“Just three more,” he reminds you. “You can do it.”

Once again, you line up the shot and take it, hitting the third can. This one just about knocks it off the log, making you groan quietly in frustration. Din's hands on your body have you completely distracted, your mind focusing too much on his promise to give you what you want if you do well for him.

“Focus,” he reminds you, his hands moving up to gently grasp your breasts before moving back down to your waist, wrapping around your form to keep you against him. You feel your nipples harden when he brushes against your chest, which doesn't help you stay focused at all.

“Come on, you're so close,” Din whispers in your ear, the voice modulator making him sound more intimidating. A shiver runs down your spine.

You repeat the process all over again, taking your time to try and calm yourself down before making the next shot, which thankfully hits the can in the centre this time. You smile gleefully at the sight, then sigh in longing when Din pulls your hips flush against his.

“Just one more, pretty girl,” he mumbles, close enough now that his helmet touches the side of your face.

With every bit of self control you have, you point the gun one more time at the final can and take the shot. By some miracle it hits, even though you can't focus on it anymore. Once the can hits the ground, the blaster is wrenched out of your hand, and you're quickly spun around and lifted. You find yourself being thrown over his shoulder, making you squeal and whine.

“Din,” you gasp as he begins walking back into the ship.

Once inside, he puts you down in front of a crate and immediately starts pushing your jacket off, which you help him with. Once that's gone, he tugs at the hem of your shirt slightly, and you get what he's telling you to do. Soon enough, that's on the floor next to your jacket, and then joined by your boots and trousers, leaving you standing before him in your bra and underwear.

It feels a bit awkward to not be kissing him or touching his bare skin at least, but you know that won't happen. You don't even ask if you can remove some of his armour, worried that he will end this whole thing before it's even started. You're much too pent up to handle him doing that.

“Always knew you were so pretty,” Din breathes, his gloved hands trailing down your curves. Your breathing becomes heavy as he does, and your cunt is soaked now, leaving a wet patch on your underwear.

You feel his fingers begin to undo your bra, and soon it's forgotten on the floor as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing your hardened nipples. A moan escapes your mouth, and your head tilts back, eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” Din tells you. His tone is soft, but it still feels like an order, so you obey him, opening your eyes and looking straight at his visor.

One of Din's hands travels down your body to between your thighs, cupping your sex, causing you to whine and buck your hips into his touch. All too quickly, his hands pull away, and you are about to reach out to grab them again, only to see him tearing off the gloves, revealing his tanned and lightly scarred hands.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. It's the most you've ever seen of him, and a part of you can believe how big his hands are even without the gloves. You have always wondered if it's just the armour that makes him look so large, but now you get the feeling that this isn't the case, especially when you look at his clothed cock. You feel tiny compared to him, and that just makes your body yearn for him even more.

Din slowly peels your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely bare in front of him. For a moment you feel bashful, wanting to cover yourself to hide from his intense gaze, but before you can think to do anything, his hands are on your hips, turning you around and pushing you down so you're bent over the crate.

His hands push your thighs open, leaving your glistening cunt exposed for him to see. You hear him let out a soft moan at the sight, and you can't help but smile shyly, happy that you're already pleasing him.

“So pretty and wet already,” Din mumbles, running his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness. One thick finger circles your tight hole before slowly pushing in, drawing a deep groan out of you. It's only one finger, and it's already stretching you out so much. You have no idea how you'll manage to take his cock.

“It's too big,” you whine pathetically, pressing your face against the cold metal of the crate. Behind you, Din chuckles, curling his finger inside you.

“You can take it,” he encourages you, his tone soft and teasing.

His finger pushes against that sweet spot inside you, making you moan louder than you did before and causing your cunt to clench around his digit.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” Din muses before pushing another finger in and thrusting them both in and out of you quickly, stretching you out for him. You can't help but blush at his praise, feeling your pussy leak even more. The pleasure builds in your stomach, but you're still not quite there. At least, not until you feel his thumb rub your clit in slow, gentle circles.

You're too caught up in the ecstasy of this new move to notice him lining up a third finger until it's pushing into your warm, wet cunt, stretching you out until it hurts a bit. Thankfully, Din moves slowly, being careful with you. His free hand caresses your hip sweetly, soothing your body as it accommodates his thick fingers.

The mix of being stretched out and the feeling of his thumb rubbing your clit pulls an orgasm out of you quickly, your juices soaking his hand in the process.

“Din!” You whimper, your body trembling and shaking on the crate as the aftershocks run through you. You can't do anything but pant and grip the sides of the crate for support.

Din keeps pushing his fingers in and out of you until you whine from the overstimulation, then he pulls away from you entirely, giving you time to breathe. Your cunt clenches around nothing, sensitive but still longing for more, but you're not left desperate for long.

There's a rustling sound behind you, and soon you feel his thick, hard cock pressed against your twitching hole. You open your legs further subconsciously, eager to be full of Din after desiring this for so long. He rubs his cock up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on the tip and slowly driving you mad. You want him inside you, and you can't take anymore teasing.

“Please, Din,” you whine, your words full of desperation. You are truly thankful that Din seems quite willing to indulge you today in anything you ask for.

One hand grasps your hip gently while the other guides his length into your wet pussy, filling you slowly until his hips are flush against yours and his cock is deep inside you, stretching you out much more than his fingers did.

The pain from the sensation takes a little while to get used to, even though it adds to the pleasure you are already feeling. Din, even though he must be just as aroused as you are, waits patiently for you to adjust to his size. In the meantime, both of his large, rough hands caress your hips and waist, giving you comforting squeezes as he waits for you to get comfortable. Soon enough, the pain ebbs away and is replaced with a growing need, which draws out a whine from you and has you pushing your hips back as much as you can, giving him the signal to move.

Din starts off slow, pushing into you gently so you can get used to the feeling, and you're thankful for that. It's been quite a while since you have been with anyone. His hands grip your hips tighter though as he fucks you.

“You're so tight,” Din groans, leaning down to be closer to you. “Even after I stretched you out.”

All you can do is hum in agreement, unable to answer him properly with the pleasure coursing through your body with each thrust of his hips. Another orgasm is already building up inside you, but you know him fucking you isn't enough to make you cum.

Your hand shakily grasps one of his and leads it down to between your legs. It's an awkward position, given that you're pressed against the crate, but Din manages to manoeuvre his hand between the crate and your cunt, pressing two fingers against your clit and rubbing it rough and fast, fucking you faster at the same time.

Groans and moans spill from your mouth, but over that noise you can hear his soft panting, barely detectable, but his modulator is just able to catch it. Something about knowing that you have the same effect on him as he does on you has your cunt tightening around his length, making him groan and drop his head against your back, the cool beskar providing some relief for your hot and sweaty skin.

“You take me so well,” Din grunts through the helmet. “It's like you were made for this.” His words draw another whine from you, and he chuckles. “You like that? You want me to fill you up, pretty girl?” You nod at his words, though you can't even take them in fully, too distracted by how close you are to cumming for him, your body shaking from how sensitive your pussy is with his cock filling you up and his fingers harshly rubbing the little nub between your legs. “You'd look so good with my cum leaking out of you. Bet you'd look even better with your belly full of my child.”

It's those words that finally have you letting go, cumming around his length and crying out with tears in your eyes that soon run down your cheeks. Your body shudders with the intense overstimulation brought on by two orgasms. Din keeps fucking into you, rubbing your clit slower as you spasm around his thick cock.

“Good girl,” he cooes, his hips still snapping into yours. “You feel so good around me.”

All you can do is whine and blush when he praises you. Words have never made you feel so good before, but it isn't surprising that a man you have craved for so long would have you feeling this way. It would be even better if you could feel more of his skin against yours, but you're in no position to complain when he can already make you feel so good like this.

You slowly begin to come down from your high when all of a sudden Din pulls out of you with a hiss, and you want to whine that he should cum inside you. Just as you're about to tell him that you have an implant, however, Din begins to lift you up by your hips and turns you around, making you sit on the crate with your legs spread, your juices leaking out of your cunt onto the surface below you.

“I want you to look at me when I cum inside you,” Din orders you, but despite this, his tone is tender.

You spread your thighs open more as he once again pushes his cock into your wet folds, causing you both to sigh in bliss as he fills you up once again. You look directly at his visor as he starts thrusting again. His pace is fast and rough, as one hand grasps your hip while the other digs into your thigh. Your hands keep gripping the crate as your overstimulated cunt accommodates his thick length.

“Din,” you gasp, feeling sore already, but you don't want him to stop yet, not until he's cum deep inside you. You wrap your legs tightly around him, crossing your ankles to keep him close.

“Gonna fill you up, pretty girl, and you're gonna take it,” Din growls as his thrusts grow sloppy, showing how close he is to his own orgasm.

“Yeah, I'm gonna take it all,” you gasp, keeping your eyes on him.

With that, Din groans as he cums, his cock twitching inside you as it fills you with his seed. He pushes himself flush against you, looking at your face as he pants and groans. You can't see his eyes, but you get the feeling that they're trained on you, watching you bite your lip and gasp as you feel him fill you to the point you're sure that it will leak out when he pulls out.

Din keeps thrusting until he has nothing left to give, and then he stops moving, pulling you close to his beskar-covered body. Even through the armour, you can feel him tremble slightly. Your arms hesitantly rise up to wrap around his shoulders, looking for some comfort after being fucked so good. Din wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“That was amazing,” you whisper as you rest your head on his shoulder, appreciating the cold beskar against your warm skin. Din chuckles quietly at your words, squeezing your waist affectionately.

“It was,” he replies, and you get the feeling that he's got a grin on his face.

You stifle a yawn as your body grows tired. Din sees this, and his hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he picks you up. You keep your legs wrapped around his waist and allow him to carry you to the bunks. Surprisingly, he puts you in his bunk instead of yours, slowly pulling out of you and laying you down on the bed. You detach yourself from him, and he pulls away for a few moments, leaving your line of sight.

Din comes back with a wet cloth, gently wiping your thighs and sensitive pussy, drawing a small whine from you due to the stimulation. You can see he tries his best to be softer then, and soon enough you're clean. He proceeds to clean himself up then and fix his flight suit to look presentable once more and puts on his gloves. Following this, Din pulls the blanket over you and pats your thigh comfortingly.

“Get some sleep, little one,” Din cooes to you. “I'm going to go after the bounty. Take care of the place while I'm gone. You know how to defend yourself now.”

You laugh tiredly at that.

“Yes I do, but extra lessons might be nice.” You smirk up at him, rubbing your foot against his groin to tease him. He groans at that, but then chuckles and catches your foot before you can rub it against him anymore.

“I'll make sure you get them.”

[butchcarmy]

Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)

Rating: E (5.7k)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1

Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore. 

Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual

A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3

Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time. 

You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't. 

Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows. 

This is not a good way to start your second day at work.

Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you. 

Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself. 

You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.

No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door. 

By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.

“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place. 

You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice. 

“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”

It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.

“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”

“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”

“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”

“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”

“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places. 

“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”

“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”

“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.

Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally. 

“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite. 

You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.

No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today. 

“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.

“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”

For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles. 

“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”

“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.

“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."

Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again. 

This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.

Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long. 

There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you. 

“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose. 

“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”

With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt. 

“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away. 

“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh. 

“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway. 

“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”

“I see. It's better here, I hope.”

“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”

“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”

“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”

“His deal?”

“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”

“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”

“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”

“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”

“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”

“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”

“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.

“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”

“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”

“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit. 

. . . . .

The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake. 

Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste. 

Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone. 

The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue. 

Has he been thinking of you, too?

This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't. 

Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?

You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same. 

The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign. 

“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?

“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”

After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today. 

“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back. 

“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”

“I figured.” 

“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”

“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”

“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more.  The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back. 

“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately. 

“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.

God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?

“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.

“I never said that.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”

“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”

“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes. 

“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”

“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”

“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”

“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”

“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot. 

That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.

“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”

“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”

“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”

“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut. 

“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?

“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”

“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”

You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still. 

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.

You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.

“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”

“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”

“What is it now?” You sigh.

“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”

“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this… 

“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face. 

Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try. 

“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly. 

“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”

“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”

“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”

“...And how would I do that?”

“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”

“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”

You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.

Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.

“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”

That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room. 

“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”

“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended. 

“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”

Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.

You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him. 

His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind. 

“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur. 

“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”

“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.

He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste. 

Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate. 

You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue. 

“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”

“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips. 

His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important. 

When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch. 

“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears. 

“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure. 

“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp. 

“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip. 

“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”

You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind. 

You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.” 

You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth. 

You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard. 

He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth. 

“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is. 

“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”

His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored. 

Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric. 

When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late. 

You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.

With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit. 

With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips. 

By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.

“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real. 

“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline. 

“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”

You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing. 

“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face. 

“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair. 

“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it. 

Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours. 

You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together. 

“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them. 

“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless. 

“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”

“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”

Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before. 

The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.

As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:

You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon. 

~

taglist: @zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @thehouseofevangelista @alastorssimp @talas-starlight @jmamas92

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Konig x Reader: I Don't Need You (Ch. 6)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: You (surprisingly) get more comfortable with Kortac, and slowly let yourself connect with the team. You subconsciously tether yourself to Konig, who is more than willing to help you fit in. The pain of the past begins to fade into the back of your mind like the end of a long chapter of your life.

Additionally, Konig starts asking the hard questions - it unearths a piece of you that you'd hoped would remain buried, but you still share the memories with Konig.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of rape, cursing, google translate German, shirtless Soap, very EXTREMELY watered-down mentions of sexual themes (we ain't there yet, boiis)

Notes: Sorry it took so long, I've got a lot cooking in the kitchen now and I'm hoping to pump out a lot this week!

Additionally, I've had some comments on this work not being an x Reader. First off, I never want to mislead anyone. I label this as an x Reader because Bonnie is not an OC of mine. I've seen other x Reader fics include callsigns that refer to the reader, so I assumed using Bonnie similarly would be alright. I also mentioned a name ONCE in chapter 3, "Jane Morris," which I thought to be a very generic name, and I haven't used it since and don't plan to. I have a personal preference of writing longer, chapter-by-chapter fics in first POV because it feels more natural to me than second POV. The same goes for using y/n - I like to avoid it if I can because it feels unnatural.

Again, those last two thing are a personal preference. I'm not bashing any fics that use these things at all, I enjoy both ones that do and ones that don't, and I don't enjoy one over the other. When I say one feels more natural than the other, I mean it feels more natural to write, not to read. I'm debating changing the name I used in chapter 3 to just y/n l/n to make this a true x Reader. If you still feel like I should change this to an x OC please let me know and I'll be happy to adjust the tags, titles, and descriptions. Again, I never meant to be misleading, and I hope I didn't make anyone angry. If a mistake has been made I am happy to learn from it. Thanks!

Konig had cracked the code on me. He figured out that after a case of American beers and a long drive, away from the crowd of new faces, my outer shell began to soften.

There was still a wall that I was holding up between me and everyone else, even though it was significantly smaller than usual. When Roze and Castillo approached me at breakfast, I didn’t get up and leave. And when Juno used the empty spot in the gym room right next to me, dropping his bag on the floor and giving me a cautious glance as he set up for his routine - I didn’t grab my things and move to the other end of the room. That was my first instinct, but I fought it. Instead I huffed, facing the mirror in front of me and focusing on my sets.

I’d started going to the common area more often – maybe not every night, but often enough. We’d make it a habit to play poker on the nights I did show up. I was better than most of the group, since none of them were quite used to my mannerisms yet. However, Konig and Horangi still took the lead as the winners, despite most of us arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed to play if they were going to wear their masks. The argument would eventually turn into a casual conversation – I didn’t engage in it too often. I preferred to sit and listen, using the time to slowly learn more about the team. I typically planted myself between Roze and Konig, keeping my legs crossed on the seat and nervously fiddling with my Yuengling bottle.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, Konig had become a conduit for my interactions with the rest of the team. The way he engaged with their activities, yet still managed to stay reserved, struck a chord with me. I respected the fact that it could sometimes be difficult to find him on base, and that at the same time, he was always there when I started to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t need him, no… that was a stretch. But sometimes I felt grateful that he was so eager to accompany me places – especially when he invited me to go on “perimeter checks” with him, which mostly consisted of long drives off base.

I don’t know how I had grown to appreciate him so much – maybe it was because he felt similar to me, in the way that we both needed our alone time, and with how we often found ourselves slipping out of the common area around the same time, with the original excuse being that we were tired. Half of the time, we would sit in the mess hall and talk until the early hours of the morning.

“A sniper?” I asked on one particular night, fiddling with the mouth of my beer bottle. “You’re way to big for that – no offense.”

Konig chuckled. “And that’s what they initially told me.” He took a swig of his (nasty) German beer. “But, despite being handed other opportunities, I proved them wrong. I’m sill a damn good sniper.”

I huffed. “Nah, you should be happy you got promoted to Colonel; you’re lucky, you get to avoid being in the trenches – at least, as much as the rest of us.”

“Lucky? No…” Konig said, shaking his head. “I do not like being a Colonel. I’d much rather be doing the dirty work of soldiers than writing these stupid reports.” He slapped a large hand over the manilla folder that sat on the table next to his beer. “It keeps my head busy, and I don’t have to listen to myself think.”

I nodded while sipping my beer. “I completely get that – If I’m not actively doing something with my hands, my brain gets too loud. Like – like there’s a mini me in my head, and the only way to drown her out is by physically doing something. Anything, really.”

Konig laughed – almost a snort – “‘A mini you’. I like that, that’s good.”

I huffed a laugh through my nose, turning my head to hide the smirk on my face. Despite being a large, brutish man, he had a youthful essence about him. It was hidden deep beneath the thick exterior of a war-hardened soldier. But, every now and again, it rose to the surface, touching a part of my soul I hadn’t allowed to be seen in a long time.

I pushed my stack of bills into the middle of the table. “All in.” I said nonchalantly.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking down his nose at me. “You’re bloody stupid…”

“Or really smart.” I retorted. I folded my arms over my chest, not wavering under his intimidating gaze.

It was unbearably hot in the room – whether that was from the tension of the game or the broken air conditioner (Price eternally insisted it would be fixed, “… by next week…”), I didn’t know. I was donned in my sweatpants and sports bra, Gaz was in a wife beater and sweats, Ghost was covered head to toe in a sweatshirt and jeans (one could ever rarely catch him wearing anything less), and Soap… well, Soap was Soap. Completely shirtless, with only a pair of gym shorts on. Typical for him to be so shameless.

Ghost looked at his cards, his jaw clearly tense underneath his mask. He wasn’t very good at hiding his unlucky hand – it was almost like he wasn’t even trying. Which was a possibility.

“Fucking hell… I fold.” He tossed his hand onto the table, revealing his sour bunch of cards. He walked to the fridge and cursed under his breath, rummaging through the contents.

“Jesus, you’re a load of dry shite.” Soap commented, leaning against the wall adjacent to Ghost. “You could’ve at least tried to intimidate ‘em.”

“You could try shutting your fucking mouth, alright?” Ghost snapped back. Soap raised his hands defensively, leaving Ghost by the fridge.

He flopped onto the couch near me and Gaz. “Miserable sap…”

I did my best to tune out their bickering. I stared down Gaz, tapping my fingers on the edges of my cards. I was relying on the river card – I had a chance at a four-of-a-kind, praying the last card on the table would be another seven.. It was risky, and Gaz was probably right in calling me stupid. But I was never one to back down from a challenge. I craved the thrill of it. Most of the time, I ended up getting lucky.

Gaz chewed his lip. He cocked an eyebrow, slowly pushing all of his cash to the middle of the table. “Call.” He said.

And I heard it – the telltale sign of his bluff. A fraction of a second where his voice had waivered, followed by him grinding his jaw. I knew I had it in the bag.

I was savoring the moment of triumph, watching Gaz stare at his cards, when I felt a hand on my back. I nearly spun around and yelled at whoever touched me, until I saw a gloved hand place a Yuengling bottle to my right, the lid already popped off. I faltered, staring at the bottle, feeling the hand on my back rubbing a thumb back and forth over my spine.

I glanced behind me, looking up to meet Ghost’s eyes. He was looking down at me with an empty gaze. His eyebrows twitched for a brief moment as he continued rubbing his thumb over the skin of my back.

I knew what he was suggesting. What he was asking. Put a woman on a compound with broken, touch-starved men, and eventually one of them will succumb to the temptation. Even so, I was shocked that it was Ghost. I would say he was showing a weakness here, no matter what he decided to call this – it was an admission that he needed something – something from me, specifically – which I never thought would happen.

He continued staring at me for another few moments, waiting for an answer. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I took the bottle and drank; my reply. He gave the tiniest nod, walking away and sitting down next to Soap – who was shuffling the remaining deck of cards, eyes narrowed at Gaz. He knew he was bluffing too.

I turned back to Gaz, smirking as he revealed the river card.

“You ever think about what you would say to those kids now?” I asked, tapping my beer bottle. “The ones who bullied you.”

Konig hummed. “Mm… not really. I don’t hold too much resentment.”

I chuckled. “If only we could all be a saint.”

“Well, it all happened so long ago.” Konig tried to justify himself. “We were only kids, bored and trying to stay on the surface. They just wanted to look tough so that no one would pick on them. Of course, I wouldn’t understand that as a kid. Maybe then, I would have admired what I’ve become, and I would have wanted to boast about it. But now that I am a Colonel – Ich habe besseres zu tun.”

I sarcastically rolled my eyes. “And that means?”

“Ehh…” he groaned, squinting his eyes. “How is it said… ‘I have bigger fishes to cook.’”

I sputtered, turning my head and laughing. Konig glared at me. “Gibt es ein Problem?” he asked, which I sort of understood. He sounded irritated, that much I could tell.

“No, Konig…” I said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I walked by. “Just keep up the English lessons, ok?”

He scowled. “Verpiss dich… Start learning German and maybe I will.” He retorted, and I waved at him dismissively from behind my back.

I stuck my head into the fridge, grabbing a Yuengling and one of Konig’s beers. I walked back and placed them both next to him. Like instinct, he took each one and hooked their lid onto the edge of the table, then smacked the side of his hand down on the tops, sending the lid clattering to the ground. He opened my beer and handed it to me, then repeated the process with his, before reaching down and collecting the lids. He added them to the pile, totaling six beer lids so far.

If someone had shown me this image a year ago – Konig and I, sitting up late into the night, chatting like we’d known each other for decades… not to mention the fact that I was so unusually open with him… I would have been insulted. I would have laughed. No one would have been able to convince me that I would become so attached to anyone else after what had happened with the 141. Yet, all of this felt so natural. It was beyond how I felt that Konig and I were kindred spirits… it really did feel like I’d known him before. Maybe, he reminded me of a part of myself that I tried to bury away.

Or, maybe, I was just submitting to loneliness and trying to justify how quickly I clung to the first available soul. That was also an embarrassing possibility, one that I would rather not admit to.

“I have a question for you.” Konig’s voice and the clink of his beer bottle on the table brought me back to reality.

“I might have an answer.” I replied.

He looked off to the side, perhaps wondering whether or not he really wanted to ask the question. “Who did you kill? And why?”

Just like that, I felt the walls being built right back to where I had them. Bonding time’s over. Back to square one.

His inquiry caught me off guard. I froze, my bottle hovering in the air before I could take a sip, my eyes glued to the table. Just the mention of the incident brought the painful memories up to the surface, like claws scraping at the dirt, digging up the deepest roots.

“Lots of people.” I said, deflecting. I took a swig of my beer.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffed. “Why did you end up in military prison?” He leaned over the table – clearly not planning on letting the topic go.

I sucked my teeth, staring at him defiantly – moments ago, it was pleasant talking to him. Now, I was fighting back the urge to leave him at the table and go to my dorm. I felt ambushed at how he had changed the subject so abruptly. Like he had been waiting for me to carelessly stumble into the trap, and now he was watching me snarl from within it.

He leaned back with a sigh. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just thought we were getting somewhere here.”

“Oh?” I said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. “’Getting somewhere?’ What’s that sup-“

“Hey, it’s ok.” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His words were forgiving, but his eyes said something else – I knew what he was thinking.

Weak.

I gave him a hateful stare. Fucker know how to play his cards.

“I killed a sergeant.” I admitted. “My lieutenant’s right-hand man.”

That got Konig’s attention. He leaned forward again, putting his bottle off to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes fell to the floor as I forced myself to recall the memories. “In Egypt, a while back. Don’t ask when because I won’t tell you.” I warned Konig, and he huffed – but obliged.

I continued. “We were going in to retrieve a hostile target. Everyone was jumpy – me included. It was dark, and we didn’t know what to expect. After the hostiles started to engage, we were scattered. I got stuck in one tower, so I went upstairs to try and make a foxhole.”

I paused. It was now my own hands, covered in dirt, clawing at the roots of the memory. Each word I said was painful, yet somehow felt overshared. Like I was trying to get Konig to pity me. Except I wasn’t – I just wanted him to listen.

And that’s exactly what he did. No comforting shoulder pat, no soothing words… he just listened. He knew that if he stepped on the wrong spot, it would break my openness, like a branch breaking under his foot would disturb the silence of the woods.

“The sergeant – ‘Flare’ – he was up there, too. I thought we’d had the same idea, but… holy fuck…” I ran a hand down my face, feeling my heartbeat grow faster. “At first, I didn’t know what he was doing, I just heard him making those sounds and I thought he’d been hit, but… he was taking advantage of this – this woman – and with her kids right fucking there… she was probably just trying to hide, to hide them, she had to be so fucking scared… he didn’t even stop when I found him, I don’t know if he even heard me screaming at him.”

I paused, almost waiting for Konig to say or do something, but he remained silent. Despite my eyes never leaving the floor, I could see his blue ones watching me carefully. Concerned, patient, and calm.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I said, my voice faltering the slightest bit. “So I shot him. In the head.” I unintentionally shivered. “Probably traumatized that poor woman and her kids, but… quick decisions aren’t the best ones.”

I ended my rant with a heavy sip of my beer. Konig continued watching me with wary eyes, which I ignored. I didn’t need consolation, or sympathy, or whatever he might try to offer. Somehow, he seemed to understand that.

“I would have done the same thing.” He commented.

Would you?

After a moment, he exhaled. “I don’t understand… I’d say you were in the right. Why did they put you in prison for that?”

I chewed my lip. “There was… some speculation, that I was jealous of his position. We’d been close throughout my time with the team, and when he got the promotion to second-in-command, I was a bit envious at first. People thought I was taking my anger out on him in what seemed like the perfect opportunity to lie.” I took another sip. “But I was happy for him. He worked hard, and he deserved it. But then the pressure got to him – Lieutenant was always depending on him for too much, and Flare couldn’t handle the responsibility. If he slipped up, it was a lot worse than if one of the rest of us did. I guess… the pressure is what got him in the end. Made him crazy in the end. He didn’t have any morals anymore.”

More silence. It felt uncomfortably loud – Konig’s stare seemed to make my head ring, making me fidget and bounce my knee. I wanted to snap at him. What are you looking at? Why are you asking so many fucking questions? But I was able to keep my anger at bay, justifying the situation by assuming his questions were fueled by nothing more than curiosity.

I figured I had said enough for the night, and finished off the rest of my beer. I slapped my leg, the telltale sign that I was getting ready to turn in.

Konig ignored it, or seemed to not notice. “Why did you kill him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why did I? What do you mean?”

“Why kill him? Why not just… disable him for the moment, and let your commander deal with him later?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was a second too late. “Again… in the heat of the moment, you don’t make distinctions like that. You think: ‘shoot,’ or ‘don’t shoot.’ And shooting him was the choice I made.”

Konig’s gaze became scrutinous. He knew I was lying about something… he was hellbent on figuring out what.

He’s going to have to wait a long damn time.

“Goodnight, Konig.” I said flatly. I collected my bottles, getting up from the table. With a clang, I tossed them into the bin by the exit, walking down the hall and leaving Konig sitting alone in the mess hall. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but that’s all they did. It’s all just water under the bridge, y/n. Get it together. You’re alright.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

[ilys00ga]

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

PROLOGUE → (FIRST CHAPTER) → FIRST CHAPTER

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you're in the wind, I'm in the water.. somebody's son, somebody's daughter..

OR: Sirens and humans were made to be at war with one another. To sear their deadly bond, not with love, not with wealth, not with rules and restrictions... but with flowing blood and torn flesh. That's what history says. That's what's bound to be.

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc.

: ̗̀➛ tags: mute human!yoongi, farmer!yoongi, yoongi has long hair (dday era length, or longer, u do u), half siren half human!reader, reader is obsessed (almost yandere-ish (we'll see as the story progresses)), she's lost and unhappy as well, got her issues (totally not projecting here), forbidden love and relationships, middle ages/old times era theme, supernatural, slow burn (I tried), strangers to lovers (?), fluff, angst, bloody or dark themes. more tags could be added eventually.

: ̗̀➛ A/N: first chappie woop woop! thank u!!! for the lovely comments I got on the prologue. honestly? I'm kinda nervous about how yall will take this fic starting from now, but! as I said before, please give it a try, I'll do my best.. 🥹 this is my first time making a fic like this one. be patient with me loves. there we go now. enjoy <333 don't forget to leave ur feedback, whatever it is, I'll take it all!!!

★ MOODBOARD.

★ MASTERLIST.

I could feel it all.

The heavy downpour that fell over my head, my shoulders and everything else around me. Felt it as it soaked through my entirely drenched being and bled into my cold flesh, as if trying to reach my pounding heart and sooth it down.

Keep going.

I could feel my legs trembling like they were not attached to the human body that was carrying me. The sand that clung to my feet as soon as I slipped out of the ocean waves, mournful at my departure, minutes before that, turned into wet, cold soil and stuck to my feet, creeping up between my toes and underneath my nails.

Don't stop. Keep running.

I could feel the ground shaking underneath me with each booming crack of thunder. A flash of lightning struck the angry sky above every few minutes passing by. I was able to get a clear glimpse of the path of trees, grass and rocks in front of me for brief, spasmodic seconds, before everything fell completely dark again.

They'll get you. Don't stop.

With frail legs and rapid breaths of air, I sped up my pace and ran as fast as my human legs could go, while my heart felt as though it could jump right up my throat and run ahead of me to my aimed destination.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop even when I could spot the brick house I was in dire need of seeing, of setting foot into.

Run, don't stop.

I didn’t stop until I made it to the rag that laid on its naked concrete front step.

I tried to quickly open the door, but it didn’t budge. Tried thumping my fists against its wet, cold wooden surface, the name of the woman I yearned to reunite with slipping out of my mouth naturally, nothing happened.

Stop. Think.

Everything was too dark and too still to think properly. The pitter patter of the rain drops against the muddy ground was overwhelmingly loud in my ears.

All I could think about was locking myself in that small house and never stepping out of it ever again.

The creaking of the door cut my string of thoughts short as it was pulled open in front of me. I couldn't make her features out in the dark, but relief washed over me once I could smell that familiar scent and hear that dear voice to my heart asking who was banging on her door at god knows what hour in the night.

Stop. We're safe. Breathe.

Several minutes after that, the scent of fresh herbal tea tickled my nostrils as I made my way down the stairs, clad in dry, warm sleep clothing.

Warm, safe.

The wooden steps squeaked everytime I put my weight on them, which almost made me giggle like a child getting lifted and thrown in the air, then caught in a warm embrace again. But the heaviness of my body, the way it felt wobbly and unsteady as I dragged it across the first floor, and the reality of my life as it fell down on my being over and over again, it all snatched the will to giggle out of me.

We can't go back.

Deeba was stirring tea on the cast iron stove. A simple act that evoked images from the past to my mind, all the times she made me different types of herbal tea and we went to drink them at the beach, or by some lake. Before everything changed and I never stepped foot on land again.

In shorter, simpler terms, Deeba was my father's blood sister, my aunt.

In longer, more in depth terms, Deeba was my only family ashore. The only one left of—or more accurately, the only one I was ever aware of—my human bloodline and the person who took my hand and guided me through the convolution of my human self. Despite and despite and despite.

She was a woman of young features despite being in her late fifties. With her jet black hair that had some of its stubborn front strands clinging onto paleness she liked to cover with head scarves, and her usual long dresses, she always had that tidied up look of hers.

Due to the nature of her profession, some people of the humble village referred to her as a mystical witch—which is, for the most part, something she often laughed at and enjoyed entertaining by decorating the house with things like crystals, brooms, a big cauldron used for cooking purposes, along with a number of other “witch items".

She was that kind of woman, one that held galaxies in her hands and a heart bigger than a blue whale, but is seen as the mistress of the devil himself.

But at the end of the day, people, no matter what color their hearts were, they always crawl back to the devil and seek him out. One way or another, by all means necessary.

But Deeba was no such thing. She was the sweetest person with the kindest heart, even with that stern glare of hers that never left her face, and that gruff voice of hers that showed no trace of playfulness. A healer who loved transmuting plants and different kinds of goods into powerful, healing remedies in that little village. Who has an almost deific amount of knowledge and wisdom, not bothering to care about the whispers and the what ifs of the villagers around her.

“Come sit.” She said, once I made it to the dining room, her voice still as deep and unwavering as I could remember. There was one lit candle on the large wooden table. It served to lend me some sense of company while she was occupied there.

As I plopped down on a chair, she put a cup in front of me, before moving to sit on the other side of the table with her own one in hand. I cupped mine in my hold, its warmth kissed my skin as I took a moment to watch the steam rise from the rim.

When I was a child, I always wanted to dive into a good, hot cup of tea. Something about the way it looked was very inviting to my young brain, back then.

“Nothing changed here. You didn’t change at all..” I dared to break the silence with these hushed words. “I missed you.”

Deeba’s reply came a little later, her voice more gentle than before, but still holding onto its nonchalant air: “I thought she'd never allow you a foot ashore again. What happened?”

I stayed silent for a little more, thinking over my words. “Nothing in particular.. Why? You don’t want me here anymore?”

“Don’t get all ridiculous now.” She gave a light huff. “You’re still as lippy as ever.”

A faint smile made its way up my mouth, my shoulders raising in a quick shrug. “You always secretly found it entertaining, I know of that.”

She continued to eye me up in silence, like she was trying to fish something out of my skin as I continued to avoid that inevitable question.

Her gaze gave up on studying me as it shifted to my wrist, where my skin wore the royal siren symbol. The very tattoo that put me and my family in a different category than the rest of the sirens across all oceans. She then reached out to hold my arm in a gentle grasp and observed it thoroughly.

“Alright. I've been searching for an assistant lately, but none of the ones I have found were fit for my liking.” Her finger traced the lines of the dark shape as she continued speaking steadily. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to help me around until I figure out what to do.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“What do you mean ‘then what’?” Her voice sounded too fixed and firm for my question. “This is your house.”

Deeba withdrew her hands and stood up from her chair. Having spent enough precious years of my life with her, I knew she had so much to say and so much to ask, but didn't push any further. How could she, after all that happened, starting from the moment I was born up to the moment I sat there before her, anyway?

Nonetheless, a wave of relief washed over me entirely as she brushed off my unspoken worries.

“I have something to show you. Finish your tea, it’ll soothe you.” With those words, she walked out of the door before I could even give a reaction.

I found myself all alone in that warm kitchen. I hated silence. The silence deep in the ocean, the silence of the world around me when I'm no longer living a symphony with it…

Silence wasn't gentle with me at all. I sat there with the rim of the cup between my lips, waiting for Deeba to come back down again. The sound of raindrops hitting the roof over my head battled with the loudness of the wild thoughts flooding my skull once again and nibbling at my brain.

The walls kept staring at me in a deafening, dead air, until the door of the house flung violently open, pulling me out of my head as it collided with the wall in a thud. Several footsteps followed that as they rushed into the house.

I lifted my head and froze in my place at the sight.

There, only a few steps away from where I stood, I saw the moon again.

We found him.

Something inside of me switched in an instant. Days went on and I’ve been thinking about him. The memory of him on that boat, so close yet so, so far away from me, played in my head like a piercing cry. But then there he was, standing at the entrance of the dining room.

However, instead of being the moon of the daytime, calm and serene, he looked frantic. Like a school of sardines running for its life when a whale is looking for its lunch.

He was drenched from head to toe. His long hair stuck to his skin and dark eyes searched around the place as if he was looking for something particular. A chill slipped its way down my spine when our gazes locked together.

Say something. Do something.

He scurried over towards me, eating up the distance between us. We stood face to face. He started moving his hands in precise, hurried movements. I stared with my mouth slightly open, perplexed and speechless as ever.

It seemed like he was repeating the same movements over and over again, frowning and huffing at my lack of response.

Say something.

He moved to tap on the table beside us repeatedly. I still couldn't break free from the intensity of his eyes yet.

"I- Sorry-?" was all I managed to utter, and I wanted to scream, both from the intensity of the moment and the way he was looking at me.

If I could describe it, I’d say it was dark, enraged and agitated. It held an incredible amount of despair and urgency in it, a contradiction that spoke to my very soul and begged for something I wasn’t even sure what it was.

The moon is upset.

"I don't understand…" I tried again, once I managed to find my voice.

The tension in my body dwindled to a faint clench in my stomach once I heard Deeba coming back down the stairs. To think that the mere presence of a person could bring quiet to chaos in an instance..

"Goodness, Yoongi. What brings you here at this hour?" Despite its unwavering nonchalance, her voice was layered with concern, cutting the string of my thoughts short.

It was obvious that her presence wasn't a safety ring to me alone, because the man– Yoongi?– heaved a sigh that seemed so incredibly relieved as soon as he saw her too.

He faced her and started moving his hands again. I could recognize some movements from a few seconds ago, and I stood there watching the rest of the scene unfold before me, feeling like a complete outsider.

Deeba seemed to understand whatever was happening immediately. She, ever so calmly, said: "Alright, calm down. I'm coming with you at this instant."

With confident, swift steps, she moved to grab a dark pouch bag that was sitting on one of the chairs, tossed in some bottles that'd been neatly lined up on a wooden shelf on the wall, then turned to instruct me in a clear tone, "I have to go see a patient. It's too late, don't wait for me and go to sleep."

I couldn't even protest, she was already gone, alongside the man. I watched him step out of the house with a spring in his legs. Something inside of me wished he stayed a bit longer instead.

I let out a sigh and put the cup of tea in the sink, just like Deeba taught me growing up.

My body felt so heavy. My legs, still feeling like they didn't belong to me, carried me to the attic upstairs. The room in which I spent most of the time as a child everytime I visited the land.

Standing in the middle of the small room, nothing changed in it. Nothing was special about it, to begin with, but it was always my special place. The place in which my younger brain felt as though it could conquer the seven oceans and the massive lands one of those days.

There, between those four walls and the small window that overlooked my vast, blue home in the distance, nothing ever mattered. Not who I was, who I was supposed to be, nor what was expected of me to be. None of that mattered in there. It was just me and my bed. My book shelves and my father's picture, framed and placed on the small bedside table.

I, of course, didn't forget to talk to the moon that night. As I gazed up at the sky through the window, I also thanked the bright stars for bringing him to my path again. For not rendering my prayers mere whispers into the air.

- [to be continued...]

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Good Luck Charm

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: G Word Count: 3059 Tags: MerHob x Human Dream AU, merman Hob, human Dream, canon role reversal, pre-relationship, treating minor injuries, brief inexplicit mention of blood, handwavy marine medical science, including such highly technical terms as 'goo'

Notes: This fills @dreamlingbingo square C2 - Almost Caught combined with October monthly prompt Injury Recovery. This is set within a MerHob AU that I have yet to actually write or publish anything else in; I've done my best to keep it sense-making and easy to follow but there are also notes on the AU at the end, for the curious.

Summary: When Dream's merman friend is late to their usual meeting, Dream is worried. And with good reason, as it turns out.

On AO3

Dream is beginning to worry. His sea-stranger usually shows up just before sunrise when they meet, but sunrise was half an hour ago and there has been no sign of him. Dream paces the ankle-deep water of the cave out in the middle of White Horse Bay, agitation building in his blood; he doesn't know where or how he could even begin to look for his friend if necessary, has no way to contact or find him save meeting here. He doesn't even have a name, let alone any idea where to find others of his friend's kind to ask after him.

He's fairly certain he, being human, would not be well-received regardless.

If something has happened to his friend, odds are Dream will never know. And the thought distresses him.

It's nearing an hour past sunrise when his friend finally surfaces quietly at the mouth of their cave, and the relief Dream feels is immense.

"You're late," he smiles, a gentle tease, but any lightness vanishes as soon as he takes in his friend's expression.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the merman grits back, his usual bright grin greatly marred by the pain in his face. He doesn't hoist himself into the cave as usual, either. "Ran into a bit of trouble further out. Could use your help, actually." He shifts in the water, floats up on his side, and Dream gasps.

There's a sizeable gash along his friend's left flank, angling behind him, orange scales and blue spots clouded by a sluggishly seeping red. It doesn't look deep, thankfully, and it's maybe half the length of Dream's forearm; plenty big, certainly, but also not as bad as it might have been. "What happened?" he breathes, dropping to sit on the edge of the cave floor, knees tucked into the water next to his friend's injured tail.

"It's stupid, really," the merman says, grimacing as he twists to pull his carry-bag out of the water. It's laden with various types of kelp, Dream sees as it's hoisted onto the barely-submerged rock floor. "Got distracted out past the reef, looking for—well. Wasn't paying attention the way I should and I ran into the fishing nets. While they were being reeled in, mind, and I kind of panicked. Had to cut my way free and I sliced myself in the process." He grins, sheepish and still clearly pained. "Like I said. Stupid."

"Unfortunate, perhaps," Dream offers. "An accidental injury while in fear for one's life is hardly stupid. How do we treat this?"

His friend nods toward the bag, one hand on the rock floor to keep himself anchored as he floats. "Kelp. The fluffy one helps to stop the bleeding and prevent infection; numbs it up a bit too. The lacy one will stick to my scales if it's smeared with the goop in the nodules from the other one. I just can't really reach it properly by myself without another set of hands—ow." He grimaces as he bumps gently against the rock wall next to Dream's knees.

"I'll help, of course," Dream says, immediately. "Tell me what to do?"

"Thank you," his friend says, rolling a little in the water to bring the injury to the surface. "Just burst the little goo pods onto the lacy one and spread it around the edges. Then we put the fluffy one right on the wound and stick the lacy one over it to hold it in place."

"Tell me if I do it wrong," Dream murmurs, sorting the kelp from his friend's bag and doing as instructed. The liquid in the pods is slick and spreads easily, not at all sticky, but he trusts his sea-stranger knows what he's talking about.

"Here, I've got this," the merman says, voice tight as he lays a sprig of the fluffy kelp over his wound, which is still bleeding sluggishly. "Just slap the other over to hold it in place?"

Dream nods, leaning down enough to spread the goo-slathered seaweed over the kelp-covered wound. It adheres immediately to the scaled surface of his friend's tail, and Dream is fascinated despite himself at what must be a natural chemical reaction between the kelp goo and the glyco-protein coating on his merman's scales.

"Thank you," his friend says, as they smooth the 'bandage' into place. "Definitely easier with more hands." He grins, brighter than a moment ago. "Usually I'd have gone to the healer back home but I was already halfway here and later than usual."

Dream is struck by the unspoken sentiment under those words, touched that their meetings are as important to his sea-stranger as they are to him. "I would never fault you for putting your health and personal safety above keeping our appointment," is what he says aloud, though, because that is the most sensible reply.

That bright yellow tail fin flicks in the water and his friend reorients his body upright again, tucks a long tendril of wet hair behind his ear fin and fiddles briefly with the lowest spine of it. "'Course not, but then I wouldn't get to see you until next time. And. And I wouldn't want you to be worried because I didn't come."

"I appreciate that," Dream says, unable to lie about not worrying when he had been fretting incessantly the full hour his friend had been absent. "And I am. Glad, that you were not hurt more seriously." He frowns slightly. "Was that your only injury?"

His friend looks thoughtful, taking mental stock of his body, Dream supposes. A frown mars the merman's forehead and he twists a bit, peering behind. He drops beneath the surface and makes an elegant wriggling loop in the water, flaring his dorsal fin.

"Ah, sharksacs," he mutters, head popping out of the water again. "Tore my backfin, too. That'll be a pain."

Dream can see it, now, the sunny yellow membrane split where it oughtn't be, extending about halfway from the top edge down toward his friend's body, just above where skin turns to scales.

"Does it hurt?"

"A bit, now that I'm aware of it. I would have noticed eventually. It's not bad, but the real trick is to keep it from splitting further while it heals—when it gets down to skin that's when it really hurts."

"Will a kelp bandage not work?"

"Too heavy on the fins—needs to be more flexible, lighter."

"And if you shift into your legs, what happens to the wounds?"

"This one will still be there," he says, gesturing to the bandage they've just applied. "The fin tear will be…it's weird, when I change, my fins disappear but I can still feel them?"

"Phantom fins?" Dream interjects, fascinated, and his friend nods agreement.

"That's a good way to describe it, yes. So I still feel them—but no, they won't be magically healed when I change back."

"Hm." Dream is combing through his mental index of human first aid techniques; surely there must be something he can offer? He's got dissolving sutures courtesy of his sister; he could offer to sew the tear together? Then again, it seems inadvisable to poke several more holes in the delicate membrane with the aim of closing the original wound; he has sudden visions of an entire chunk of sutured fin tearing loose at the stitches. No. But perhaps—

"I might have a solution," he says, leaning to grab his waterproof bag before dropping into the sea next to his friend. "Wait here? I need to retrieve the first aid kit from my boat." And barely waiting for an answer, he strikes out, back to where he's anchored close by. It's quick work to find the first aid kit among his supplies and zip it into his bag, and then he's swimming back round the big rock formation in the bay to their cave.

"You swim fast, for a human," his friend says upon his return, with the same cheeky grin that accompanies those words every time he says them, and Dream can't help his own little smile in return. He hoists himself back onto the cave floor with a bit more effort than it took earlier this morning, thanks to the retreating tide.

"The liquid in these pods," he begins, picking up one of the remaining kelp strings with several nodules still full along its stem. "It reacts with the protective layer on your skin to get sticky, right? Will it do the same on your fin?"

"Yeah, but like I said, the kelp is too heavy and not flexible enough for use on fins."

"I've got something," Dream announces, pulling out his kit and opening it up, "that we can stick across the split, to hold it together? It's meant to dissolve on its own, after four to six weeks in humans. We don't live in water, though, so it may be a lot quicker for you."

"The fin only needs three-four days to heal up, if it doesn't split more," the merman says, leaning up to peer into the kit. "What're you thinking?"

"If we spread the kelp juice along the tear, and set short lengths of the suture thread across it, do you think it would hold without tearing you further, or causing irritation, or any other complications?"

"I don't know for certain, but it's a smart idea, I think—I've seen a healer do something similar with different stuff when a buddy of mine got a fin tear really bad once, yeah. Let's try it."

The water level is perfect, lapping barely above the height of the floor now; Dream is still seated on the edge and his friend is floating sideways in the water again, back turned to Dream with his dorsal fin flared just below the surface. He's gathered his hair out of the way, up over his shoulder, and Dream is shameless in his appreciation for the sculpted skin and muscle inadvertently on display. His friend is built lean and sleek, beautifully toned from a lifetime of swimming; the way the fin rises so prettily from his spine, fans out between its rays in a delicate spray of color against the warm hue of his skin—

"Can you reach it like this?" His friend is glancing back over his shoulder at him.

Dream blinks, feels himself flushing just a little and shifts his focus, sets to work. "Yes." The tear is very much in evidence and Dream bursts one of the seaweed pods, spreads the liquid carefully along the torn edges. He's got several short lengths of the suture thread cut and ready; he gently holds the fin together beneath the water with one hand and starts sticking the threads along the injury, perpendicular to the split.

"Thank you, for trusting me to help," Dream says as he works, because he is not blind to it.

His friend makes a sound that conveys exactly the little smile that's on his face, even if Dream can't see it from behind him. "Thank you for helping," he replies. "Still can't believe I got tangled in the nets. It's embarrassing, a spawning mistake; I know better."

"Everyone has their moments of distraction," Dream offers. "I'm glad you weren't hurt worse." He lays the last suture along the top edge of the fin, and marvels at how well it adheres. "All done. Do you want me to braid your hair, to keep it from getting stuck in the glue?"

"Oh, good idea." His friend rolls and loops beneath the surface, coming upright in the water again with a grimace, one hand pressing briefly at the kelp bandage on his flank and the other still holding his hair forward over his shoulder. "I'll have to let it down again once the goo's set, hide your work so I don't get questions about it, but that would be really smart until then."

That…had not occurred to Dream. "It's not going to get you in trouble, is it? I did not think, I apologize—"

"It'll be fine," the merman assures him, lifting and presenting his gathered hair. "If your thread works like we think it will, I can introduce it to the healer and it'll be one more way we can benefit from the world Above. I just can't go revealing that I let a human see me in my true form—I certainly couldn't have patched up that fin by myself after all—or I'll cause a panic."

"I should have asked first—"

"You did ask," his friend cuts in, and waggles the mass of wet hair at him. "Braid?"

"Of course, yes." Dream resolves to be more mindful of this sort of discretion going forward and sets to work.

It's wonderful to be able to touch all that hair, as he's wished to for ages, to run his fingers through the length of it as he weaves a loose braid over his friend's shoulder, keeping it clear of the sticky injured fin behind. It is also thrilling, to have his hands so close to the pretty face that features so often in his dreams; he is both relieved and disappointed as the braid progresses. His friend is watching him as he works, dark eyes flitting between his face and his hands, comfortably silent, and Dream feels wonderfully, contentedly warm in his quiet attraction as he weaves the braid. It doesn't take long, and then he coils it atop his friend's head and secures it with a pair of takeaway chopsticks from his first aid kit (he'd had the idea that they might be good makeshift splints but hair sticks is probably a better use for them).

"Perfect, thanks," his friend says once he's finished; he moves his head back and forth, feeling out the balance and weight difference of all that wet hair piled atop his skull.

"Did you find what you were searching for, out past the reef?" Dream asks, watching him; he tries not to stare overmuch, but between the loose updo and the fully-exposed ear fins and his friend's naturally beautiful face, he's finding it difficult.

"I did," the merman says, eyes taking on a look of hopeful trepidation that piques Dream's curiosity. "It's in my bag there, if you want to grab it for me."

Dream pulls the bag over; his friend takes it, rummages through it. "Here you go," he says, and holds out a small shell. "I found it for you."

"For me?" Dream takes it, turns it round in his fingers, marveling. It's nothing he can readily identify but not unlike a cowrie shell, a smooth glossy grey shot through with veins of pearly blue and purple color that glow in the sunlight. "It's beautiful."

"I wanted you to have one," his friend says, toying with the lowest spine of one ear fin. "They're a bit on the uncommon side, can only be found in limited areas at certain times of year when the young molt their shells and grow their adult skins. So they're something of a good luck charm, to us. Thought it might not hurt, having something from the ocean meant to keep you safe while you're doing your research in it."

"That's very thoughtful," Dream says, absurdly touched. "Thank you—I will carry it with me every time I dive."

"Well, good. That's good then," his friend says, and Dream can't be sure but it almost looks like the edges of his yellow fins are blushing toward orange, down in the shadows of the water.

"Perhaps you might have benefited from such a shell of your own, to help you avoid the nets altogether," Dream says then, daring enough to tease, and the merman grins, bright as the sun.

"The way I see it, it was good luck to get free in short order with minimal injury. So it's been tested under real-life conditions—had to confirm it was viable before giving it to you, didn't I?"

"Of course," Dream smiles, smitten by the easy optimism his friend always seems to have at hand. "And again. I thank you." He tucks the shell into the inner zip pocket of his swim trunks, where it will stay secure.

The merman dips in the water, turns a happy back loop and resurfaces, face tipped up; the work Dream did on his hair holds true. "Thank you for your help patching me up," he says. "Much easier getting home without an open wound giving me problems. Don't think I'll be hopping up there to join you, though; best if it stays in the water."

"Of course," Dream answers, not surprised nor even really disappointed. He enjoys sitting close beside his friend and sharing human food, yes, but there is also great pleasure in watching him in his natural element, the muted gleam of the sun on his scales through the water, the way his fins drift and sway in micro currents, the natural fluid ease in every movement.

Beautiful.

"So, what human delicacy have you brought me today?" his friend says then, and Dream purposefully redirects his thoughts.

"A highly divisive specimen, to be sure," he begins, pulling his waterproof tote close and rummaging in it. "Many humans love this food but many hate it, as well."

"And which side do you fall on?"

Dream gives him a small smile. "I have my favorite flavors." He withdraws a rectangular mylar packet and holds it up triumphantly. "Today, I bring you pop tarts." ~

Later, back at the house his team is staying at, once he's bid a good night to Matthew and Jessamy and retired to his room, Dream takes the shell out. It's still beautiful by electric light, and the sentiment behind it fills him with a soft warmth. His friend, his beautiful sea-stranger, has given him a thoughtful gift. More than that, he had gone to effort for it, had encountered danger; Dream recalls the way he had said he was distracted, to be caught in the fishing nets, and his heart fills with an odd blend of guilt and delight at the idea that his friend may have been so distracted on account of him, of bringing him this gift.

And he wonders, with the faintest ember of something like hope, if perhaps the deep regard he has for his sea-stranger might not be one-sided after all.

= Started: 9/6/24 Drafted: 9/16/24 Posted: 10/1/24

Notes on this AU:

There are a handful of possible reasons Hob hasn't given Dream his name yet; I haven't settled on which makes the most sense. (The Doylist reason is obviously just flipping the canon dynamic between them)

Dream Jessamy and Matthew are a team doing nebulous marine-biological Research™ (under direction/funding from Lucienne at the university back home) in a nebulously-coastal-Australian locale (because of the fish Hob is based on). I have put more effort into developing Hob's mer-culture than trying to make him 'sound' local; my apologies to the Australians in the audience

Hob's mer-form is springboarded from the leopard coral trout (see pic below) His tail is the vibrant orange with the blue spots; they can have phosphorescence when he's swimming in shadows if he needs/wants them to. His fins are all bright sunny yellow (and much longer, flowier) and he does have a dorsal fin running from between the lower edges of his human shoulder blades to just past his fish 'butt'; the fin can be collapsed close to his body and the rays are flexible also so sitting human-style is not an issue

He can change colors along the edges of his fins; this is a mating behavior and indicator of interest

Dream is unaware of these facts

Hob is still hairy, thanks to Selkie blood in his family tree (which also grants him greater ease in shifting to human form than other merfolk)

The cave they regularly meet in is in a rock formation in White Horse Bay (not a real place afaik) and the opening faces away from shore, affording privacy (the bay is not a popular beach spot anyway). It also faces east for optimal sunrise viewing. Tidal range averages around three meters. At highest tide the cave floor is a foot or two underwater; at lowest tide Dream could still safely dive out if needed (but wouldn't be able to climb back in until the tide comes in again). Dream takes a small boat intended for the team's use in their research and anchors it in the bay nearby and swims over to the cave

Hob has wandered transformed among humans for short periods, mostly to secure goods useful to his community, but learning little bits of human culture is a nice bonus. He's never really tried their food, though, so that is one of the primary things that Dream will bring him

[asdfghjklmals]

WHEREVER YOU ARE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. WORD COUNT: 3.6k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, established couple. adoptedkiddo! tsumiki.

SYNOPSIS: tsumiki wants to study abroad for high school, but satoru gojo is against it. will satoru let tsumiki go? AUTHOR'S NOTE: ***manga spoilers*** because of what happened to tsumiki in the manga, i decided to write a more wholesome version of what i would think tsumiki would've wanted to do. she is going to make small appearances and still have her name mentioned in my future fics, but this is dedicated to her. and because i think satoru loved having her as his child 💚 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

you sat down on the couch, “satoru, we need to talk.”

“i swear, babe, it wasn’t megumi’s fault.” he stared at you innocently with his hands raised.

“megumi?” you looked at him, brows furrowed and confused, “no, babe, we need to talk about tsumiki.”

satoru sighed in relief, glad he didn’t get himself in trouble. he didn’t want you to find out about megumi getting sent to the principal’s office for fighting at school today. that was another lecture for another day.

“what’s going on with my favorite child?” satoru joked, putting his arm around your shoulder.

you explained the situation to satoru, “now that tsumiki is graduating middle school, we had a grown adult talk about her future plans. she told me she wants to study abroad for high school. she wants to learn english so she can teach kids here in japan after she graduates.”

“absolutely not. she’s staying here.” satoru said without even thinking. no reasoning to support his decision.

“but babe, i think it’s a good idea. she’s 15 and starting high school next year. there are good study abroad programs out there. and it's great to live in country of the language you want to the learn.” you said, trying to justify tsumiki’s decision to satoru.

“no, (y/n).” he said sternly. since when did he ever directly call you by your first name instead of a petname? and since when did he want to play patriarch? you were usually the shot-caller in this household.

it was time for the back up plan if all else failed. kisses. you grabbed satoru’s hand and peppered it with your soft lips. “please? for me and tsumiki?”

he looked at you and took his hand away. you stared back at him in disbelief, “satoru gojo, what is your problem today?” even the government name didn’t make him flinch like it usually did.

he never acted like this, even when he disagreed with you, he was usually calm and rational. he would have data and reasons to back up his decisions, but not today.

“i just don’t think a 15 year old girl needs to go study abroad in another country without her guardians.” he said bitterly, “and that’s final.”

he removed his hand from your thigh and got up from the couch, leaving you alone in the living room as he made his way to the patio to join catoru in the sun. your jaw dropped. what was wrong with him today?

later that night: tsumiki's room

“(y/n), did you ask gojo-sensei if i can study abroad?” tsumiki asked curiously as you towel dried her long brown hair for her. she had spent the last week convincing you about letting her attend a private academy in california, and you were totally on board with it until satoru shot you down earlier today.

“i did… he wasn’t too happy to hear what i had to say though.” you frowned at her. she looked at you with sad eyes.

“what did he say?”

“he thinks that you’re too young to study abroad and that you should stay here in japan with us.”

“i’m not a baby, (y/n).” tsumiki said, “why can’t gojo-sensei see that i can take care of myself?”

you thought out loud, “maybe because you’re his little girl... his partner in crime. he doesn’t want to lose that. you know what a softie he is.”

“yeah, but it’s not like i'll be gone forever! i can come home for the semester breaks and i’ll always have my cell phone with me!”

“i know, sweetheart. coming from how i grew up, i think this would be a great experience for you.” you commented as you thought about how you wanted to attend jujutsu high instead of being homeschooled when you were tsumiki’s age. (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

tsumiki sighed in defeat, “can’t you give him a kiss or something? he never says no to you.”

“believe me, i tried.” you chuckled, “he pushed me away and said no.” you and tsumiki both knew satoru gojo's weaknesses.

“what?!” tsumiki gasped, “that man is so obsessed with you and he did what?!”

“i know, that’s the last time he’ll be getting any kisses from me.” you stated, sitting down on her bed.

“well, that’s just mean.” satoru interrupted your girls only conversation. his tall frame leaning against tsumiki's bedroom door, arms folded.

tsumiki smiled, “oh, hi gojo-sensei!”

“hi tsumiki.” satoru greeted her, sitting down on her bed next to you. tsumiki sat on the floor. “(y/n) says you have something you wanted to talk to me about.”

"oh... yes!" tsumiki nervously laughed, scratching the back of her head. "well, since i'm graduating middle school, i wanted to ask you and (y/n) if i can attend this boarding school in california. it's called e.f. academy."

"okay, if you're going to go this far away, you're going to have to convince me. so tell me more." satoru encouraged her.

"well..." tsumiki started to word vomit, "it's a private high school academy with small classes. they have a lot of extra curricular activities and travel opportunities. they'll prepare me for college. they have advisors that i can talk to if we need anything..."

"tsumiki, can't you do all of this here? why do you have to go so far away?" satoru asked. this was his way of being 'reasonable'. he was starting to ask questions so he could make the best decision.

tsumiki was smart and calculated, just as you and satoru raised her to be. she started her rebuttal, "you and (y/n) have always taught me and megumi that we are not going to grow if we don't step out of our comfort zone. you even told megumi to be greedier, so this is me being greedy."

satoru nodded his head, "okay. give me a week to think about it. don't bother (y/n) and don't ask her to give me kisses because that's unfair."

you smiled as you watched satoru and tsumiki talk. they were really a father-daughter duo, partners in crime, two peas in a pod. you missed the days where your 6 year old adopted daughter used to keep your 18 year old boyfriend in check.

"really? you'll really think about it?" tsumiki asked satoru with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

"yes. i promise." he answered.

tsumiki stuck out her pinky as satoru laughed. he intertwined his pinky with hers, both of them kissing their pinkies to seal the deal. (read 'pinky promises' here)

one week later: satoru's office

satoru knew that he only had one week to make a decision that would change his life and ultimately, tsumiki's life. megumi and you were all for tsumiki studying abroad, while he was the only one against it.

"she's the only one that doesn't have cursed energy. she can't see curses and she can't attend jujutsu high with us." megumi's comment ran through satoru's mind. it was true, being the only one who couldn't see curses or practice jujutsu in the family could feel alien. but tsumiki never expressed that she felt alone.

satoru sighed while he sat in his expensive office chair. he knew that he was going to have to give tsumiki an answer today. he still wanted to say no, but his heart knew the right decision was to say yes and let her be free to be her own person.

he heard a knock on his office door. the four signature knocks signaling it was you (or him). ten years later, that has never changed.

"gojo-sensei?" your saccharine voice called out for him as you opened his door.

he greeted you with a bright flashy smile, "i love it when you call me that."

you rolled your emerald green eyes at him as you made your way towards his desk, sitting against it. "did you make a decision yet?"

"i'm thinking about it." he mused.

"you know our baby girl is waiting for an answer. she's at cheer practice right now, so she should be home at 6 today." you commented.

"let me take one last walk and i promise i'll be home on time for dinner." satoru huffed. you leaned down to kiss him before heading back to your office. he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

"wait, can i get another kiss?" he requested with a shit-eating grin.

your radiant laugh filled his office. he peeked one of his shiny blue eyes out of his blindfold. you turned back around to grab his chin with your hand.

"see you at home." you whispered, kissing him again fervently.

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

satoru decided to take the long way home instead of teleporting. he wanted the last couple hours to himself to think.

why was he so against tsumiki studying abroad? he thought about the conversation he had with you last night.

"i think you have abandonment issues, satoru. that's why you won't let tsumiki leave japan." you realized as he pulled you closer to him in bed, your gentle hand resting against his bare chest.

"hmmm. you think so?" he mumbled, pulling your chin up for a sweet peck on the lips.

"i know so."

abandonment. the first person who came to satoru's mind was suguru geto, his bestfriend. the original partner in crime. a person who he loved and cared about til' this day.

"losing suguru really changed you, babe. and that's okay. you've become a better man because of it." you said softly.

"i guess you're right." satoru acknowledged. he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. he felt your delicate breathing against his skin as he fell asleep.

it was true, what you had said. satoru didn't want to be left behind again. even though he knew that tsumiki wasn't actually leaving him behind, he didn't like the fact that another person he loved and cared about wasn't going to always be present in his life.

he knew that if he kept her here, she would just grow up pushing him away or maybe even resenting him. and he couldn't have that. he knew what he had to do. he was going to let tsumiki go.

later that night: family dinner

"so... did you make a decision, gojo-sensei?" tsumiki interjected at dinner.

yours and megumi's green eyes met at the dinner table. the ball was in satoru's court now.

"i did, sweetheart." satoru said calmly. you and megumi extremely curious, tsumiki's heart beating quickly.

"you can go."

"really?!" tsumiki jumped out of her chair.

"really." satoru confirmed.

tsumiki cheered and squealed in delight. running to hug satoru. she ran to her room and grabbed her acceptance letter to show the white haired sorcerer.

"you already have an acceptance letter?" megumi questioned his sister.

"they have a 99% acceptance rate, so it doesn't matter. but i wanted to show gojo-sensei anyways." she beamed.

"i guess they just let anyone into that school." megumi muttered. you kicked him under the table as he shot a glare black at you.

"when is the first day?" satoru asked you and tsumiki.

you answered, "classes start in two weeks. i already bought our plane tickets and made sure our passports were good to go, tsumiki has her student visa ready as well."

"you already bought our plane tickets?" satoru questioned, chuckling, "and what were you going to do if i said no?"

"i knew you wouldn't have said no, babe. you can't say no to me or tsumiki to save your life." you grinned.

"she's right about that." megumi added. tsumiki nodding in agreement. she did get catoru because satoru said yes. (read 'the purrr-fect approach' here)

"i can definitely say no to (y/n)." satoru defended himself as his family ganged up on him.

you picked up your empty plate, and walked to satoru side, "can i get a kiss before i start the dishes?"

"sure, babe." he replied with no hesitation as he gave you a quick peck, unaware of your tricky mind games.

"see? you can't say no." you laughed as you picked up the rest of the empty dinner plates and utensils.

"what did i say about using kisses as a weapon?!" satoru complained. "that's so unfair!"

the dining room was filled with laughter from you, megumi, tsumiki, and satoru.

two weeks later: tsumiki fushiguro takes california

satoru was glued to tsumiki by the hip for the past two weeks. they went shopping together for all her academic needs, for new clothes, a laptop, and a new matching backpack and suitcase. they went to get their hair cut together, and even got their nails done together (satoru loved getting pedicures, you thought it was because of the foot massages). he wanted to spend as much time with tsumiki as possible before parting ways.

orientation for tsumiki's school was a two day event. during the first day, the families would be given a tour of the school and then everyone would attend a social hour to get to know the faculty and other students. the second day, the families would help their student move into their dorms and say their goodbyes until semester break in the late fall, early winter.

during the first day of orientation, tsumiki had already started to make friends. she was just like you. beautiful, nice, caring, friendly. people wanted to be around her and wanted to be her friend. you and satoru watched from the sidelines of the gymnasium as tsumiki mingled with her new classmates.

"are you still worried about her? she's already getting used to things here." you tried to comfort satoru as you watched your future high schooler.

"i was hoping she'd beg us to take her home." satoru frowned. you smacked his chest playfully with the back of your hand.

"mr. and mrs. gojo," a student aide approached the both of you, "can you sign these papers for tsumiki? these are the final documents for admissions."

"sure thing." satoru replied, grabbing the clipboard and pen from the student aide. you waited until they walked away to turn to satoru.

"mr. and mrs. gojo. what did you think about that?" you sneered.

satoru chuckled as he signed the document, "sounds like music to my ears."

"give me a 10 carat diamond ring first, babe." you grinned as satoru handed you the clipboard to sign the document too.

satoru gojo would give you the world if you asked for it.

"(y/n)! gojo-sensei!" tsumiki shouted from across the gymnasium to catch your attention. she waved while pointing at the two of you. she was showing her new friends who her cool and awesome parents were. you and satoru waved back at her, giving her both of your world-class smiles.

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

satoru used blue to hold up all of tsumiki's luggage as the three of you made your way to the dorm room that tsumiki would be staying in. you and satoru paid extra to make sure that she would get her own room. you sat down on the empty bed, tsumiki joining you.

"what do you think, sweetheart?"

"with a little extra decorating, i can make it look like my room at home." she said with a bright smile.

you and satoru helped put on the bed spread, duvet cover, and pillow cases while tsumiki unpacked her clothes and placed them into her small dresser.

you could feel satoru tensing up, his cursed energy spiking every now and then. he was dreading saying goodbye to tsumiki. whenever he would look at you, you would give him a soft smile and rub his back in reassurance.

"gojo-sensei, (y/n), look what megumi gave me for my dorm room." tsumiki's brown eyes twinkled as she showed you a pink sparkly picture frame.

the picture frame contents were of the four of you. it was a recent picture from tsumiki's 15th birthday. you had your arms around megumi while satoru had his arms around tsumiki. it was a rare occasion that megumi was smiling in a picture. tsumiki's signature bright smile lit up the picture. you could feel the love radiating from the frame.

"megumi says that this picture will be a reminder of home and that you all love me."

"he's right." you patted her head, brushing her brown hair. "are you sure you want to do this? it's not too late to change your mind. we can go back home if you want."

"no, i'm sure!" tsumiki said confidently.

you laughed, "you're breaking satoru's heart, baby girl." you hugged satoru, his arms were folded as he quietly laughed, shaking his head.

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

you and satoru spent your last couple of hours with tsumiki reminiscing about her younger days and what kind of child she was growing up.

"remember the day that satoru lost you and megumi at kanda matsuri? i was going to have a heart attack."

satoru shot you a glare, "in my defense, there are thousands of people at that festival. it's one of japan's big three festivals! they were like four feet tall at the time! i told you we needed to get them those child leashes."

"you were such a responsible girl, going to the lost and found." you ignored satoru and laughed, remembering that tsumiki went to the lost and found to have the festival employee announce 'satoru gojo, can you please come to the lost and found to pick up your children'.

"remember the one day gojo-sensei forgot your anniversary?" tsumiki peered at satoru, giggling.

"oh god... don't bring that up." satoru hid his face in his hands.

"what was that? our third year of dating?" you asked satoru, "and your cute 9 year old partner in crime saved you that day. she went to the flower shop down the street and bought lilies with your credit card."

"then how did you find out that i forgot if she saved me?" satoru interrupted you.

"because you always get me roses, even though my favorite flowers are lilies. not only is tsumiki responsible, she's extremely thoughtful." (read 'lilies and roses' here)

"remember when tsumiki brought me a homemade lunch for teachers day?" satoru smiled at the fond memory. tsumiki was only 8 years old when satoru got an official teaching position at jujutsu high.

"it was her idea too," you reminded satoru, "she asked me to help her bring your lunch to the school that day. our baby girl is so caring. what did we do to deserve such an amazing daughter?" you gushed at your 15 year old, hugging her tightly. tsumiki just smiled and laughed like she always did.

"i think i'm the lucky one too! what did me and megumi do to deserve such loving adoptive parents?!" she remarked.

"all you two had to do was look cute. that's why i picked you two up off the streets." satoru joked. (read 'learn to love' here)

you heard a knock on tsumiki's dorm door, tsumiki opening it. the resident assistant announced, "curfew is starting soon. parents are going to be saying goodbye to their students in the courtyard."

you felt satoru's cursed energy spike again. he wasn't ready for this moment, and honestly, neither were you. you weren't sure what was going to break your heart the most: letting tsumiki go or watching satoru leave a piece of his (still) healing heart behind.

you and satoru quietly followed behind tsumiki as she confidently led the way to the courtyard. it was like she belonged here at the academy the way she navigated through the halls. the courtyard was dimly lit, the california skyline in the background, clouds kissing the top of the city buildings.

you watched as satoru sneakily wiped his tears away from his cerulean blue eyes. he crouched down, softly smiling at tsumiki.

“you gonna be okay without your partner in crime?” he asked her.

as strong as tsumiki was, her brave face started to falter. her warm brown eyes brimmed with tears as she ran into satoru’s arms for one last hug before you and satoru had to leave the campus.

tsumiki babbled through her tears, “thanks for letting me come to school here… i promise i’ll study really hard... i love you and (y/n) so much. you two are the best mom and dad ever.”

satoru scoffed through his tears and continued to hold her. you put a reassuring hand on satoru’s shoulder, joining them for a group hug. tsumiki looked up at the both of you with flushed cheeks.

you kissed the top of her precious head, an action that she never grew out of (and you hoped she never would). you smiled back at her with tears in your eyes, “wherever you are, baby girl, satoru and i will always be one call away. we love you and we’re so proud of you, tsumiki.”

"no boyfriends, please." satoru added with a chuckle. he didn't think he could handle another heart attack.

EXTRA:

"did you see how much tuition costs at tsumiki's boarding school?" you asked satoru as he sat down in his first class airline seat.

"no, i didn't even bother check the brochure they handed us at orientation." satoru stretched his long legs, "how much could a high school tuition cost? one or two thousand a year?"

you just laughed at his ridiculous comment. you were amused at how naive he was.

"what? why are you laughing?"

"try seventy, babe." you stared at him. satoru looked like he was going to have a brain aneurysm.

"seventy what? seventy dollars or seventy thousand?"

you annunciated each word clearly so he could understand you. "seventy. thousand. dollars. a. year."

satoru fake-clutched his chest, "we have to go back and withdraw her, immediately."

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[i-padfootblack-things]

My Heart is Yours [Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x reader]

Author's Note: Rosie Rosenthal has my whole heart, and I couldn't find any fics for him, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. This is based on the portrayal of actors in the Masters of the Air series on AppleTV+. I respect the referenced real life stories and people wholeheartedly. This is not meant to offend anyone.

Warnings: Reader is a nurse, Historical Inaccuracies, Injuries.

Hope you enjoy this little fic! My requests are open, so if you have any ideas, don't be shy!

Pilots are known to be cocky- I mean, I get it. They're pretty badass, if I can say so myself. But I have never in my life met such a down to earth pilot. Major Robert Rosenthal was, without exaggeration, perfect.

I was standing by the window, counting the planes that were appearing from the grey clouds, landing from their mission, silently praying Rosie was among them.

I exhaled in relief-- only one plane down from the fifteen that left. My heart was in my throat as I waited for the ambulances to bring in the injured men.

As if on cue, the doors flew open and several men on stretchers were placed on beds, in order of emergency. I went to the man in the worst shape, ensuring his airways were clear and then going over the burns that littered his whole body. It looked bad, and my heart ached for him-- he would never look the same as he did before.

"I can take over, you're needed elsewhere." I nodded as I gave another nurse my forceps. He was stable and I had to move on.

"Have you seen Rosi- Major Rosenthal?" She shook her head, a sad smile casting a shadow on her lips.

"He's not on the list." She said, referring to the list of injured men that had been brought in. I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. It didn't mean he was dead, although that's what it usually meant.

After going over every pilot and ensuring they got the right treatments, I allowed myself a break-- I needed some fresh air. I had no clue if Rosie's plane made it back, none of the pilots that flew with him had come in, and that is rare occurrence.

As I exited the building, leaving behind the pained screams of injured men, I made my way towards the bench Rosie and I always met at, still holding onto a sliver of hope that he was alright and he was going to come back to me. I was walking slower than usual, given how tired I was, taking the time to rub the back of my neck as a way of relieving the tension.

A deep voice called my name, making me freeze-- I could recognize it anytime. I raised my eyes to his face, and my knees couldn't take it anymore.

"Rosie," I whispered, as I fell to the ground. He was there in a second, grabbing me by my forearms and holding me to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat against my own.

"Woah, woah... Are you alright?" I nodded, my eyes going over every inch of his face, making sure he was okay.

"I just--" I couldn't keep calm, my tears spilled out as a sob escaped. "I thought you were gone, I didn't know if your plane made it back..."

"I promised you I'll always come back to you, didn't I?" He had the nerve to smile, as he raised his hands to my cheeks, wiping my tears away. I was still silent, trying to catch my breath. I was still so focused on his perfect face, and how he had not even a cut anywhere, but what brought me back to the moment was the feeling of his finger caressing the spot between my eyebrows.

"Why are you frowning, my love?"

"You're fine." I said it quietly, as if I couldn't believe it, but he was in front of me, fine as if he didn't just drop some bombs over Berlin. "You're fine. You're fine!" I laughed, realizing he was actually standing in front of me. Perfectly fine!

I raised my hands to his face, caressing his jaw, then his cheeks, his nose, and then forehead. I brushed them through his hair, wrapping them around his neck. He was watching me with his beautiful smile lighting his whole face ul.

"I'm fine, my love. See?" He gestured towards his body in a 'ta-da' motion, making me laugh.

He then closed the small distance between us, kissing me on the corner of my mouth.

"I will always, always come back to you, my love. My heart is yours." He whispered, before kissing me deeply.

"And mine is yours, Rosie."

[authortobenamedlater]

Does anyone want to help me construct a playlist for my S1 novelization which I have officially titled "Halo: Awakening"?

I don't use Spotify or anything but I'd like to have a rotation of songs to get me in the writing mood.

Here are some I've found myself listening to:

Battle Symphony by Linkin Park

Castle of Glass by Linkin Park (I almost named the project after this song but it's also the title I would use for my Babylon 5/Earth Alliance Civil War ripoff starring Captain Lasky. I am 99% sure I'll never write it, but I don't want to part with the title.)

Bring Me to Life by Evanescence (If this doesn't give you John + Cortana chills what's wrong with you.)

Immortals by Fall Out Boy (This is my Silver Team song. I like to imagine Cortana would play it before an orbital drop.)

Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler (Tell me the UNSC would not use this for propaganda.)

Numb by Linkin Park (My Miranda & Halsey song. I also have a Linkin Park thing for fanfic inspo, it seems.)

What I've Done by Linkin Park (my Jacob Keyes song.)

I Enjoy Being a Girl by Doris Day/Rogers and Hammerstein (Just a fun one for Kai.)

New Divide by Linkin Park (my Jacob & Miranda song...I. REALLY. Have a Linkin Park problem.)

Human by Rag'n'Bone Man

Unbreakable by Bon Jovi (a good Master Chief song)

That's a decent list but I am in this project for the long haul and I need MOAR. Specifically looking for Kwan and Makee songs, and songs for the Arbiter/Sangheili and Covenant generally. I'm not picky about artist or genre for this.

My musically driven friends, come to my aid! @ageless-aislynn @sarnakhwritesthings @morganas-pendragons? Also @rainintheevening and @novelmonger, I know you two aren't in the fandom but Star Wars/MCU fic inspo songs could work well for Halo too.

[kinda-cute-kinda-insane]

Give Time a Chance.

Yoru x gn!reader

Warning : blood(Reader radianite abilities need blood), ooc maybe, I just need him man. No pronouns used I believe, tell me if there’s more warning I should add. Is biting one’s neck should be counted as a sexual activity???

Fic is inspired by Indonesian song

Yoru, you knew of him, not enough yet but you do, of course you do, even your heart whisper his name softly, for you to have him.

And because you know him, you understand how he is. Arrogant, and very closed off to almost everyone, even then you wouldn't stop, even if he gave you unpleasant look, you must have him, because a life without love feels like a night without a stars, empty and lonesome.

You still smiled anyway even as he rolled his eyes at you as you offer him a hot chocolate after his mission at icebox, the warmth of the beverages should have made him feel better.

"Seriously? what do you take me for a kid?" He scoffed at you, looking down at the cup on your hand. "If you want to be a bitch about it just give it to me," Jett rolled her eyes and gently took the cup from you. "Thanks Y/n," She smiled before leaving you both in the kitchen, you only nod at her.

Even as his words sting, you still smiled "sorry, I'll keep that in mind next time," you then walk away as he looked at you weirdly, just what the hell is wrong with you? you must be some weird fuck to enjoy being treated like that, whatever.

Even as your action was never reciprocated, you still try anyway, you can make him fall in love you're sure of it, even if he doesn't feel the same way. He just need to give you time, and love will come because he's used to it.

The least he could do is give you some time and a chance before he want to rip your heart apart, at least then you'll lose after trying your hardest.

The rift walker looked at the red roses on his desk, very basic choice from you but there were barely any options since he never talked about his preference in flowers.

His eyes scanned through the handwritten letters you left along the bouquet.

'Keep the rose, maybe the fragrance will convince you to get to know me?'

He grimaced at the cheesy letter, but it was a bit creative, but cheesy.

He hated how you made him feel lately, the way he searches for you in a room full of people, the way he is anticipating compliments from you whenever he does something, the way he carefully look at all the little things you do.

He hate the way he has to fight back his smile whenever you're around, hate that his leg move without him thinking just to look out for you, hate the way his heart drop seeing you shaking all alone in your room.

You must get rid of your bad habit of not fully closing your room, but you can correct that mistake later, because now you could only stared at the door in shock as Yoru barge in.

"What happened to you?" He kneel down beside your bed, your face was pale as a ghost, your whole body shivers as if you were put inside a freezer.

"uh, I overdid myself on the mission," you nervously answered, growing shy at the close proximity, the warmth he give to your heart should've been enough to stop your shivering, but then again that's not the reason.

"Then why don't you go to sage you idiot?" His hand reached out to your forehead, his brow furrowed at how cold your body became, almost like a corpse.

"Well sage won't really be a big help," you bit your lip in shame, as if you even have control over what your body can and can not do. You're always like that, putting the blame on yourself no matter the situation, he hated that about you.

"Since you never seemed to notice or care," you shyly looked away, shielding yourself from his intense gaze before continuing, "Sage healing is great truly, but it wouldn't really work for me since my ability is basically fueled by blood."

"Like a vampire?" He interrupted you mid sentences, "I mean, what the hell, sure."

You backed away from him as he lowered his shirt "woah, hey now!" you panicked looking at his neck to his collarbone. "Get your mind out of the gutter, you need this."

You shyly stared at his neck, "Are you sure, I mean it's not the most nicest experience." He rolled his eyes at you "I've been shot and stabbed before, this would feel like nothing." He then grabs you by the back of your neck and push your face closer to his neck.

"uh- ok, here we go," you nervously sink your teeth into the flesh on his neck. He let out a low groan, well you sure as hell weren't lying about it, it didn't hurt but sting like hell, there's a certain effect your canine teeth that feels foreign than a normal bite from an animal.

In the midst of the moment, his hand found it way to your waist and grip on the flesh to ground himself from the sting, you nervously inhaled the air from your nose from the sudden contact.

It only took a minute for you to finally gained back the color in your skin, and the warmth you needed. Slowly you detached yourself from his neck, breathing heavily.

"Thanks," you shyly mutter, which earn no reply from him, his hand still on your waist. Maybe time has finally done it's job, maybe your love finally get to him.

If only you knew, your love has affected him long ago, the dried rose sitting hidden deeply in his room serves as a silent witness of his growing love, as the rose died his love bloom.

"If you need help again, just come to me," he slowly walked to the door, hoping you wouldn't notice the redness on the tip of his ears. "Wouldn't I be bothering you?"

"Well you're okay doing it before, what difference does that make." You grinned stupidly staring at his back, you may not notice his blush but someone else did.

"Well at least you both make up," Jett teasingly said, as she was passing by your room with Phoenix beside her. "More like make out," Phoenix continued, staring at the bite mark left behind on the rift walker neck.