#maybe the vendors are all friendly

[the-boy-branithar]

Literally why am I thinking up ideas for a Fallout: Stardew Valley mod?

[somethingaboutvampires]

Forced to go to a work conference. My boss' boss' boss told me that I was repping our company, not myself, and I was required to go to the expo, shake hands with our 3rd party vendors and thank them for a great job.

My position at this company is so low that it's laughable they sent me here.

So I do this and the vendors were like: "Uh. Okay? Thanks I guess?" Some eyerolled. Also, I was offered zero swag when I did this. Swag sitting right there. Right there on the table.

So, ya. Eyeroll a 'great job we love your services' from an almost trillion dollar company and a single person reaching out to you thru the ether. Cheers.

[littlefireball]

ʜᴊ|ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ (ᴍ)

ᴘɪʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜰᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ ꜱᴇx|ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ(?)|ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9ᴋ

Summary: The tranquil existence was shattered today by the merciless pirates. You surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair, letting it engulf you. Yet, in that moment of darkness, a figure emerged to rescue you. But is this hero a beacon of hope or a harbinger of doom?

The golden rays of the morning sun filter through the window, warming your face as you rise. Just like every other day, you gather your belongings and step outside, exchanging friendly greetings with the neighbors before unlocking the door to the café right on schedule.

All is as it should be.

"Good morning, Y/N!" called out a familiar voice. It was a middle-aged man, a loyal customer who always ordered the same sandwich without fail.

"Morning!" you replied, already moving with practiced ease to prepare his breakfast.

"How're you doing?" 

"Fine I guess." 

"It's good to hear." He sighed. "Did you hear the news? Pirates have been causing quite a stir lately.

"Yeah… all we can do is hope they steer clear of our town."

"Let's hope so." He smirked helplessly. "Maybe I should just pack up and find a new place."

"Pack up? Where?"

"I'm not sure, just anywhere that feels safe." He shrugged. "What about you? Aren't you thinking of moving?"

"I wish I could. But, you know… my funds are pretty tight."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Here's your sandwich."

"Thanks." He settled the bill and walked out, leaving you alone in the café.

Just as you turned around to tidy up the table, a loud shock caught you off guard. 

"Run!!" The once tranquil town erupted into chaos, and you peered out the window, heart racing with dread. Tons of men wielding a machete swung their weapons menacingly, demanding that the terrified residents surrender their belongings. The air was filled with desperate cries and frantic screams as people scattered in every direction. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you dashed to the door, but just as you reached for the lock, a group of men burst in, kicking the door wide open. You stumbled to the floor, mortified, and before you could regain your footing to fight back, one of the men seized you roughly.

"Let go of me, you scoundrel!" you shouted, thrashing against his grip, but the pirate's hand clamped down on your wrist like a vice.  

"Shut your mouth, you wench!" he barked. The ship rocked violently beneath you as you were dragged onto the deck, your struggles futile against the chains that bound you. The laughter of the pirates echoed around you as they shoved you aside. Helpless, you watched in horror as the small shop you had poured your heart into was ransacked, the townsfolk fleeing in terror, and the once vibrant community fell into an eerie stillness.

"Hey, see this baby girl~how cute you are!" " "Leave me alone, you filthy scum!" Your voice quivered with a mix of fear and defiance as you glared at the pirate who had captured you. 

One of them, should be the captain, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, approached you with a lecherous gleam in his eyes. "A feisty one, aren't you? We'll see how long that lasts," he sneered, his breath reeking of rum and malice. "Set sail!"  

As the boat glides farther into the distance, the town gradually fades from view. The lively chatter of vendors hawking their wares in the bustling market is replaced by the lingering echoes of laughter that grate on your nerves.The salty sea air stung your eyes as you struggled against the chains that bound you to the wooden post. 

Tsk…

The crashing waves echoed around you, a constant reminder of your precarious situation. 

Frantic escape ideas raced through your mind. Yet, you were a land dweller, and diving into the ocean means dying. What options do you have? Can you really call out for someone to rescue you? Here you are, in the heart of the sea—who could—

"Turn left!!!!!It's ATEEZ's ship!!" A loud cry jolted you from your thoughts. Just as you were about to grasp the situation, everything unfolded before your eyes. A deafening roar erupted from the left side of the ship, causing it to lurch violently and sending terror through the crew. The sturdy vessel splintered, hurling pirates overboard, and you tumbled into the frigid sea.

The icy water enveloped you, and you fought to break the surface, but the ocean constricted your breath and drained your strength. As despair set in, you surrendered to the darkness. Just then, strong arms seized you, pulling you upward. Your vision blurred, obscuring your savior's identity, and consciousness slipped away.

—---

Coughing violently, you expelled the salty seawater that had filled your mouth. Your breaths came in rapid gasps, a primal instinct driving you to inhale as if the very air might slip away. As clarity returned, you realized that you were still aboard the vessel... but the faces of the crew surrounding you seemed unfamiliar.

"Are you awake?" A gentle voice broke through the haze, and you turned to see a man clad in a flowing white robe, his expression warm and reassuring.  

"Where... am I?" you managed to whisper, your voice barely above a breath.  

"A ship, obviously," Yunho replied. "You fell into the sea and Jongho saved you." 

The vivid image of the recent attack flickered on the screen, and a wave of dread washed over you as you gazed at the man standing before you. ATEEZ, you recalled, infamous for their ruthless piracy. What would they do? Would they end your life? But then again, why would they bother to rescue you?

"It's perfectly normal to feel a bit disoriented right now. It's a common reaction after being submerged in water..." The man's voice, surprisingly calm, began to ease the tension in your chest. Perhaps they weren't as terrifying as the tales suggested? Still, you knew better than to let your guard down.

"Is she alright?" At that moment, Hongjoong gently knocked and opened the door. His striking features made your heart race. Despite your reluctance to admit it, he was undeniably handsome, far from the "demon" the stories painted him to be.

"Yah, she is just a bit frightened," Yunho said as he rose to his feet, and Hongjoong nodded, his gaze remained fixed on you.

"What's your name, lady?"

"Y/N..."

"I'm Hongjoong, the captain. This is Yunho, our doctor." You nodded as he continued, "I'm sorry for your fall into the sea. It was indeed our attack that caused the ship you were on to sink."

"No... I owe you my gratitude. You were the ones who saved me."

He shrugged with a warm smile. "Just take some time to rest, and we'll arrange for you to be taken to the nearest town."

You nodded, and they stepped out, leaving you to gather your thoughts. You stumbled out of bed, your feet heavy as you made your way to the door, only to be met with the murmur of several men outside.

You stumbled out of bed, your feet heavy as you made your way to the door, only to be met with the murmur of several men outside.

"What is the captain thinking? Bringing a woman aboard?"

"Exactly! This is bound to bring us misfortune!"

"Or maybe he plans to trade her? She's not too shabby, after all..."

"But I heard she's being sent to other towns."

"Is it really that straightforward?"

You clamped a hand over your mouth, panic rising within you, tears welling in your eyes as your heart raced. They were clearly not good men. But what could you do? Escape? That was out of the question. How could you prove to them that you wouldn't bring them bad luck? It was easy to say, but how could you actually do it? Just as your mind spiraled into chaos, loud voices broke through your thoughts.

"Why are we having abura soba again?" Hongjoong grumbled.

"Because they're delicious," Yunho replied.

"That's excessive, don't you think?" Hongjoong shot back. "I eat abura soba five days a week!"

"Is that a problem? The crew loves it," Wooyoung chimed in as he knocked on your door. When you opened it, he stood there with a steaming bowl of noodles.

"Hey there, Y/N, right? Here, if you don't mind, I made this for you," Wooyoung said, placing the bowl on your table. "I'm Wooyoung, by the way."

"Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Though you were wary of possible poison, your hunger overpowered your caution. You took a bite, and to your surprise, it was delicious. Before long, the bowl was empty, and you watched as the others busied themselves with cleaning up.

"Hey, Y/N," Wooyoung approached you, balancing several bowls in his hands. "Are you done? You can hand the bowl back to me."

"Oh, it's fine. Let me help you. You look a bit worn out."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You joined him in gathering bowls and chopsticks, following him to the kitchen. As you walked, you took in your surroundings, contemplating your next move... perhaps earning their trust was the best strategy for survival, at least for now.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you noticed Hongjoong frantically working on something, clearly in a rush.

"Hey, hyung. Just try not to shatter the bowl again," Wooyoung remarked, already scrubbing the dishes.

"I won't," Hongjoong replied, but his next words nearly sent the bowl tumbling.

"Um… are you going to lend him a hand?" you whispered to Wooyoung.

"Nope. I'm bust. Maybe you should go see what he's up to."  

With that, you approached Hongjoong cautiously. This could be a perfect chance to earn his trust.

"Hongjoong?"

"Yah?"

"Do you need any help?" You glanced at the mess on the table, where he was clumsily beating eggs.

"No, I'm good. Oh no!"

You quickly caught the bowls and chopsticks as they teetered, relieved they didn't break.

"Hmm… if you're okay with it, I could cook something up for you."

"Really?"

"I actually work as a cook."

"Ah, so you're just like Wooyoung."

"I guess so. What do you feel like eating?"

"Just not abura soba, please." You grinned and nodded. "And I'm not a fan of vegetables."

"Got it."

You set to work with the ingredients spread out on the table, whipping up the dishes you know best while ensuring the table remains neat. Before long, your masterpiece was complete. You entered the dining hall, cradling a bowl of fragrant soup. Hongjoong stood tall, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

"Oh wow! That smells so good!" he exclaimed, quickly blowing on the noodles before digging in. "This is absolutely delicious!" A sense of pride swelled within you as you witnessed his joy, a reminder of why you chose the culinary path.

"Perhaps you should be my personal chef," he joked, a playful smirk on his lips. You smile back, taking his words lightly, fully aware that you won't be staying long here. 

Hongjoong seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders dropping slightly as he savored each bite, his eyes closed in blissful contentment.

"I can't believe I've never had anything like this before," he said, opening his eyes to meet yours with a newfound appreciation. "You really are talented."

You blushed slightly, grateful for the compliment. "Thank you, Hongjoong. It's just something I enjoy doing."

As you sat down across from him, Wooyoung wandered in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, what's going on here? Did I miss the party?"

"Just having a nice meal," Hongjoong replied, gesturing to the now half-empty bowl in front of him.

Wooyoung's expression softened, a hint of surprise crossing his face. "Can I have a taste?"

"Nope. That's mine." 

Hongjoong immediately finished them all, not letting Wooyoung eat. 

"Yah!Hyung!" "Who told you not to help me?" 

You chuckled, watching them quarreling playfully. It appeared that this was part of their everyday life. From this viewpoint, they were completely disconnected from any notion of evil. 

In the days that followed, it felt as if you had stepped into the role of Hongjoong's personal chef. Initially, he continued to enjoy Wooyoung's meals, but he would occasionally drop hints that your cooking was just as delightful. Eventually, you took the plunge and prepared a dish just for him, hoping to win his trust. The joy on his face was infectious; he began to request your cook regularly, and soon, even some of the crew members were intrigued by your skills. 

Cooking for them brought you immense joy, as their satisfaction filled you with happiness. Over time, your initial apprehension faded, and the thought of leaving began to slip from your mind. The idea of visiting the nearby town seemed to vanish. Yet, in recent days, Hongjoong's demeanor shifted, making you reconsider your plans.

Did you do something to upset him? How could you make up for him? You worried about whether you would be killed for this? No. What you were concerned about was what if Hongjoong didn't like you?

He had grown somewhat distant, his warmth replaced by a chill that left you unsettled. This was especially evident when you were in the kitchen with Wooyoung; his coldness bordered on anger. Today was no different.

"Are you alright, Y/N? You look a bit pale," Wooyoung asked, concern etched on his face.

"Just feeling a little under the weather..." you replied with a bittersweet smile, though the cramping in your abdomen made it hard to stand. You suspected the long days at sea and the cold had taken a toll on your body. "Hiss..."

"Maybe you should take a break?" "But I want to make some food for Hongjoong…" You winced, wanting to refuse and continue helping in the kitchen, but the pain rendered your limbs weak, making cooking impossible.

"Nah. You should go back to your room." 

"But what if he didn't like me?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean…he may hate me if I don't cook for him." 

"He wouldn't think so.

"But…"

"No. Just go take a rest, okay? I can handle." Wooyoung stopped you. "Can you walk?"

"I think so?" In reality, each step felt like a monumental challenge.  

"Let me help you." Wooyoung took your hand and supported your shoulders, a moment that caught Hongjoong's eye.

"What are you doing?" he approached, anger flashing in his eyes, but as he noticed the pain etched on your face, his expression shifted. "What's wrong? Are you okay, Y/N?"

"She's sick." Wooyoung said. 

"I'm not asking you." 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully, knowing Hongjoong was jealous. 

"So now I will send her to her room." 

"No." Hongjoong pulled you to his arms carefully. "I will send her and you cook." 

"Okay, okay." 

—----

"Do you need any medicine?" Hongjoong inquired as he gently laid you down on the bed. "Or should I call Yunho for assistance?"

"Actually..." you winced, the pain making your words slow. "It's just period cramps."

"Oh... umm... would something warm help? Maybe hot water?"

You nodded, and he quickly dashed out to fetch a cup of steaming water.

"Here, be careful." He supported your back as you sat up, handing you the warm cup.

"Thank you." You took a sip, feeling the soothing warmth spread through you. It wasn't just the hot water; it was Hongjoong's tender care that made your heart flutter. You couldn't deny the twinge of sadness when he seemed distant. You longed for his smile and the sweet words he used to share. Unbeknownst to you, your feelings for him were already blossoming.

"Do you need more?" As you lifted your gaze, you noticed how close he was, causing a blush to creep onto your cheeks. "No, it's okay."

Hongjoong smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he noticed your embarrassment. "Alright, but let me know if you need anything else. I'm here for you." 

"Thank you," you replied with a nod. "But Wooyoung really needs to step up; he's in charge of everyone's lunch."

Hongjoong feigned a cough as he plopped down beside you, irritation evident in his voice. "It's no big deal; he's used to it. You shouldn't worry about him." You stifled a laugh—wasn't he just a tad envious?

"Nope. Everyone seems to be eating a lot more these days," you teased, enjoying the playful banter as his jealousy was unmistakable.

"Why are you so concerned about him? Do you have a crush on him?" His question took you by surprise, and it seemed to catch him off guard too. "Ugh, forget it."

"Does it bother you who I like?" You asked. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"No, it's not that," Hongjoong stammered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "It's just…I didn't expect you to be interested in him. He's always been so…carefree and unpredictable." 

I once had a crush, but it wasn't on Wooyoung. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as a warm sensation blossomed in your chest. After inhaling deeply, you were prepared to share your truth. "Hongjoong… there's something special about what I feel… when you're near, my heart starts to race. I think I might be falling for you."

"Seriously?" Your confession surprised him, and a shy yet joyful smile spread across his face. "Were you just teasing me?"

"Not at all. I would never lie about how I feel."

He leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest. The sincerity in your tone echoed through the room, and the tension between you seemed to dissolve. Hongjoong's hand, which had been resting on the bedsheets, gently brushed against yours, and you didn't pull away.

"I never thought... I mean, I've always been there for you, but I never expected..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Expected what?" You prompted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

Hongjoong looked down, his fingers entwining with yours. "I never imagined that you would see me as more than just a friend. I've always admired you, from afar, but I never dared to dream that you felt the same way."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. 

"I think I like you, too." Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. It was a gentle, comforting embrace that spoke volumes of the feelings he had been holding back.

"Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. I'm glad you feel the same way."

Smiling, you gave him a nod after a gazing. Without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, catching you by surprise, but you quickly melted into the kiss. 

As you lay back on the bed, he hovered over you, the kiss unbroken. He was tender and cautious, as if he feared making you uneasy.

"I have a good way to reduce the period pain." He settled your hand on his cheek, giving a peck on that. "Do you wanna give it a try?"

You knew what he meant and what he wanted to do. Of course, you wanted to, too. 

"Please." 

"Wait for a while." He pecked at you after leaving for a towel and condom. Placing the towel under your thighs, he then lifted up your dress to slide down your panties. 

"I love you, y/n." He towered you, pulling out his cock from his panties. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the contours of her cheek, as if committing her beauty to memory. You  closed your eyes, a soft sigh escaping your lips, inviting him closer.

Their lips met in a kiss that was at once tender and passionate, filled with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. He guided his member to your entrance, which was already wrapped up in a condom, then slowly eased into you. 

You moaned out as you broke the kiss, the sensation of being filled up was weird you could say. Hongjoong, same as you, felt a little bit uneasy because of your sticky blood. 

"It hurts…" A deep frown creased your forehead as the familiar grip of menstrual pain returned. Watching you suffer, Hongjoong's heart ached with sorrow. He lingered, allowing your pain to fade gradually, before he began to move in and out. His rhythm matched the tenderness of his kisses, a blend of softness and intensity.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. His cock could easily reach your sensitive spot thanks to your blood. Settling your legs around his waist, he rolled his hips at a steady pace. 

"Shit, it feels good." "Hongjoong…" "It's okay, love." His head landed in your neck, dropping a broken kiss on that. It began with a gentle brush of lips against the warm, smooth skin, a tentative exploration that sent shivers down your spine. He deepened his kiss as he started to rush, his lips lingering softly on the curve of the neck as well as his thick cock─grazing your hot wall deliciously as he moved back and forth. 

"Joong…it's…fuck…"His hard tip suddenly hit your sweet spot, making you whole body squirm and let out a shy moan. "Here?" He hit it again, you couldn't help but tighten your wall. The wave of excitement rushed throughout your body each time he collided with it. You loved it. 

"Please, joong. I need more." "As you wish,  baby girl." He lifted up his hips, withdrawing his cock until only his tip inside you, then shoving back with a great force. You arched your back, opening your mouth for better breathing. The crash he made caused you to run out of oxygen. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He fucked you so fast and hit the same spot dead on. All the heat gathered in your lower core and formed a knot. Pain?It was already faded away and instead by your climax. Your wall clenched his cock, urging him to bring you to the edge. He picked up his pace, panting heavily and letting out a throaty moan. 

Your legs were placed on his shoulder, oh, he went so deep. He sat up straight, grabbing your knees and pushed into your wetness. The noise from outside faded away, leaving only the rapid thumping of your heart and the skin slapping sound, drowning out the chaos beyond. His ball hit your ass each time his tip reached the deepest, making you groan without care. 

His hand found his way to your collar, pulling it down to explode your fine chest. He pushed up your bra, squeezing your breast hard while teasing your nipple, earning a shy chuckle from your lips. "Gotta taste you." He leaned down to suck your nipple, his tongue licked everywhere he could reach. 

The double excitement made you spin. There was nothing left but only the kissing sound and the skin slapping sound bouncing off the wall. 

"I'm so close." He huffed, his thrust lost its rhythm as he found the way to peak. You, too. After a few thrust and a long throaty moan, both of you came. "Goodness." Your embrace tightened as you two didn't want to leave. Catching his breath, he pecked at your cheek before removing. 

"Am I right?Does it hurt now?" He asked, a grin played on his lips. 

"No." You shook your head. "Thank you." You gazed into each other's eyes, their faces flushed with the aftermath of their intimacy.

"Hey, I made lunch." Wooyoung suddenly knocked on your door, giving you two shocks. "But I think you two are full now?"

"No…ugh…we'll eat later." Hongjoong stammered. 

"Alright. You two will be hungry for sure especially after an intense team sport!" Wooyoung teased. 

"Shut up!Wooyoung!Leave!" 

"Okay, okay~Call me if you need more condoms." 

"I'll just kill you, you asshole!" 

Ah…it was so embarrassing.

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

[libingan]

im literally writing this in the middle of an online meeting LMFAO your bitch is in college, yall!!!!!!! and i'll be on this laptop until 8:30PM hahaha..... anw this is abt reader who wants kyle to be rougher in bed so she deliberately riles him up by getting him jealous there is no sex sorry guys

sex with kyle has always been good—better than good, in fact. he’s gentle, considerate, and utterly devoted to making sure you unravel with pleasure under his touch. every time, he focuses on you, putting your needs above his, ensuring you’re satisfied before he even considers his own desires. it’s sweet, thoughtful, and exactly what you’ve always wanted. but sometimes… sometimes, you crave something different.

you can’t help but fantasize about kyle taking what he wants from you, losing control, fucking into you like you’re just a toy for him to use. you want him to be rough and domineering, to show you a side of him you’ve never seen in the bedroom. you’ve tried everything—being bratty, sassing him out, sometimes even deliberately annoying him in hopes of pushing him over the edge. but it never works. he always brushes you off with a patient smile, calm as ever, as if he’s completely immune to your provocations.

that’s when you get the idea to flirt with another man during one of your shopping trips.

the market is bustling with activity, people moving around, chatting, haggling with vendors. kyle had just excused himself to the restroom, leaving you alone to browse. it’s then that you see your opportunity.

a man about your age, maybe a bit older, with a friendly smile and an easygoing manner, starts a conversation with you as you look over a display of fresh produce.

“hey there,” he says, giving you a once-over before focusing on the vegetables in front of you. “you new around here? don’t think i’ve seen you before.”

you smile back, trying to put just enough charm into it. “yeah, just passing through with a friend. figured we’d stop by and pick up a few things.”

he nods, leaning a little closer. “well, you’re in for a treat. this market has the best stuff. need any recommendations?”

you tilt your head, pretending to consider it. “i wouldn’t mind some suggestions. maybe you could help me find something good?”

the man grins, clearly pleased with the attention. “sure thing. name’s mike, by the way.”

you introduce yourself, and the two of you chat for a bit longer. he’s friendly, flirty in a harmless kind of way, but you notice the way he keeps inching closer, his eyes lingering on you. it’s exactly what you were hoping for.

then kyle returns. you spot him out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. but you push it aside, determined to see this through. mike suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer in a way that’s casual but undeniably possessive.

kyle’s expression shifts as he watches, his brows furrowing in confusion, then anger when you do nothing to stop the man’s touch. you can see it in the way his jaw tightens, his posture stiffening as he approaches.

“hey, love,” kyle says as he comes up to you both, his voice cool but with an edge to it.

you look up at him with a smile, but before you can introduce him, mike speaks first. “oh, hey there. you must be the friend they mentioned.”

kyle’s eyes flicker with something dark, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him. “friend?” he echoes, his voice a low rumble.

you nod, trying to keep the situation light. “yeah, this is kyle. we’re just out doing some shopping.”

kyle’s gaze locks onto yours, his eyes narrowing slightly. “right. just shopping.”

there’s a moment of silence, the air between the three of you heavy with unspoken tension. mike, seemingly oblivious, starts talking again, but you barely register his words. all you can focus on is kyle, the way his usually warm eyes have gone cold.

“let’s go,” kyle finally says, cutting mike off mid-sentence. his hand wraps around your wrist, not harshly but with enough force to make it clear he’s done playing along.

you barely manage a goodbye to mike as kyle pulls you away, his grip on your wrist firm as he leads you out of the market and towards home. the silence between you is deafening, and your heart pounds in your chest, but it’s not the thrill of anticipation you’d been hoping for. it’s something else—something almost like fear.

when you finally reach the apartment, kyle lets go of your wrist, taking a step back as he runs a hand over his face. but he says nothing. he doesn’t even look at you, just stands there, his back to you, the silence hanging heavy in the air.

“kyle…” you begin, your voice trembling as you take a step toward him. “say something, please.”

but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn around. the stillness is unbearable, his silence so intense it’s like a physical presence in the room. you feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach twisting into knots as you wait for him to react in some way—any way.

“kyle,” you try again, desperation creeping into your voice. “please, talk to me.”

still, nothing. he’s like a statue, immobile and eerily silent, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his sides. tears prick at your eyes as the guilt and fear overwhelm you. this isn’t how it was supposed to go. you wanted to push him, to see a different side of him, but now… now you just want him to speak, to tell you everything’s going to be okay.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you move closer to him. “i’m so, so sorry.”

finally, kyle turns to face you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and troubled. he’s still silent, his gaze piercing as he looks at you, waiting.

you can’t take it anymore. the words tumble out of you in a rush, your voice shaky and filled with regret. “i just wanted to rile you up. i wanted you to be rougher in bed, and i didn’t know how else to tell you. i thought if i pushed you, maybe you’d… i don’t know… take control or something.”

for a long moment, he just stares at you, and you feel yourself crumbling under the weight of his silence. then, finally, he speaks, his voice calm but laced with frustration. “you should’ve told me that. communicated instead of pulling this little stunt.”

his words cut through you, the calmness of his tone almost worse than if he’d yelled at you. there’s no anger, no shouting, just a quiet, controlled disappointment that makes you feel small.

“kyle, i didn’t—” you start, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“you didn’t think,” he finishes for you, his voice still infuriatingly calm. “i get it, i do. but this? what you did? it wasn’t the way to go about it.”

you bite your lip, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean for it to go this far. i just didn’t know how to ask for what i wanted.”

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his emotions in check. “you could’ve just asked,” he says softly. “i would’ve listened. i’m willing to try it for you, but not like this. not when you’re trying to push me into something i’m not prepared for.”

you nod, wiping at your eyes, feeling utterly ashamed of yourself. “i know. i was stupid, and i’m so, so sorry.”

kyle steps closer, his hands gentle as he cups your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “we’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the tension easing slightly from his frame. “but you have to talk to me. no more games, alright?”

“alright,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, relieved beyond words that he’s still here, still willing to work through this with you.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “i love you,” he says quietly, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice, the emotional toll this has taken on him.

“i love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion as you cling to him, vowing to never put him—or yourself—through something like this again.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Acceptance

Sometimes, accepting that your past is yours is the hardest thing to do.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, angst, potentially triggering content, mentions of prostitution, this one's a little heavy, Hurt and comfort

Length: uuuuh 3k-ish.

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Considering he knew that you'd figure it out sooner rather than later, he's honestly a little surprised how much this is bothering him. Even years after everything happened, after all the work he's put into becoming more than just his past, it's still haunting him everywhere he goes.

Jungkook wanted to stay alone by pure choice. He doesn't want to give into some primal urges and get lost in it, to the point of morals and worth being thrown out the window. He knows that his kind- or at least, the kind his father cursed upon him with his partial genes- doesn't value emotional connections as much as other beings of the galaxy do. But still.

What that man did was unforgivable.

Jungkook doesn't remember his mother. He's sure he never met her- or maybe only as an infant, making him forget what she looked like. What he does know is that feeling of coldness he always received from his father- someone who should've raised him, or at least let the rest of the crew raise him. But that man would not let anyone care for him- Jungkook had to basically fight for his place, a place that wasn't even existing in the first place.

Nothing he could do would ever prove his worth to that man, because that man saw him as nothing but an accident. Something that should not have happened.

She was a great mother. Still is, even if Jungkook doesn't visit her much. She respects him, and his personal decisions- and that's more than he could ever ask for.

So, at the age of barely fourteen, he left the ship- with a bag of clothes and a bit of money from a crewmember, left alone on a planet near Cryon, where he met Seokjin and his mother. The young hybrid had instantly taken a liking to him, and after his mother learned of Jungkook's situation, she took him in- and willingly took on the role of a parental figure, no matter how much people looked at her oddly for her now two children that looked nothing like her.

But she cared for him.

For a long time, Jungkook had found comfort in his lifestyle. He wouldn't hurt anyone ever like he'd been hurt before, because he never attached himself to anyone or anything past friendliness. Jimin was an exception- but even he doesn't really get past his shell, never able to catch a glimpse of his heart.

And then came you.

You're nothing special. Just like his mother, you're a simple human being, cast aside with nowhere to go. And maybe that's why he wanted to shoot you so badly when he first saw you- because he took so much pity on you, that he felt like he'd be a worse person to let you live instead of giving you an end to your suffering. Humans are seen as nothing but greedy little parasites- they take and take and take and fight for nothing but their own self-worth.

And then you opened up. Every day you spent with him seemed to fuel your soul once more, charging up your will to live as you stopped trying to make him discard you at any given chance. And suddenly, he no longer saw the same victim as his mother once was in you- he saw someone. You're no longer just a being worth pity- you're you.

And he started to actually enjoy your company.

Especially after doing something like you did back with the vendor- you've proven yourself as someone that can and will decide what she wants to do. You didn't have to do this for him, and you know it, he knows that you know it. And he also knows that you didn't do it for him anyways, even if you think you did. Because you're basically defending your place in his life- on his ship.

And that's what scares him. That's what made him react like he did, yesterday.

You're not so easy to push around any longer. You're no longer someone who will just do as he says, and he wants that for you- you deserve your autonomy, you deserve to be able to make these decisions. But those things always come with a price.

And yes- maybe he's scared of you.

Because the longer you stay, the closer you get, the more it'll bug him or even hurt when you decide to move on from him. For years, Jungkook has feared hurting others- when in reality, he just got tired of being the one getting hurt. And now, with you in his life, it's already happening- because just sneaking a small glimpse at the security camera of your room shows you just quietly sitting on your bed, hugging your knees, waiting, thinking. And it hurts. He doesn't want you to be locked up like that. He wants you here, where he can see you, where you can talk, and where he can watch you knit your stupid little ball-shaped animals that you've hung everywhere at this point.

He likes them. Because they prove that you're actually here, that you're alive with him, and that you're not just wishful thinking.

His thumb runs over the little crooked horn of the goat you've knitted, that he's taken for himself now as it's attached to his keychain. He's been unkind and most of all unreasonable- but he doesn't know what to do now. You clearly want to stay, and it's also pretty obvious that you've found somewhat of an interest in him- and that terrifies him.

Because what if he does end up like him? What if he does fall into the same habits and behaviors as he did?

And how can he not, when you're already infesting his mind, without even doing anything at all?

He's forever branded as the 'accidental' son of a slave trader, a mistake that shouldn't have happened to begin with, and cost someone their life. He's no one you should associate with, let alone get involved with. You don't know who he is, what he is, and what kind of stigma he carries around. You've got no idea who you're currently traveling with, and maybe he needs to force you to face it.

Maybe if he shows you who he really is, you'll finally let him go.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're not too sure why you're so unable to just wait things out. He's clearly gotten upset yesterday, after you mentioned that you knew that he was partially human- but why?

There's no way he despises the entire human race- because he has been quite kind to you, even though he didn't have to be. Even his proposal of letting you stay with Seokjin instead of having to 'wait out' his whole… situation, was one of kindness. He could've just told you to stay in your room, but instead, he thought of a more comfortable alternative for you, despite the trouble of traveling and time cost.

So why did that rub him so wrongly when you mentioned it?

There's not much time to think about that however, as the door hisses open- causing you to hide under the blanket you previously had over your shoulders in a panic, the reaction almost instinctual. You can only feel the bed dip a little under his weight as he sits down on the edge of it, and when you peek out, you can see that he's not even looking at you. Instead, his hands are holding his keychain with your knitted little goat attached- fingers playing around with it in a nervous manner.

"My mother was a prostitute." He starts, voice low and without much emotion to it. "My father… enjoyed her services so much, that he bought her." He explains, and you slowly sit up, blanket falling from your head to rest on your shoulders instead. "Chances of.. pregnancy were low- considering she was human, and my father was not." Jungkook says, while you just watch him, not moving much.

"But it happened anyways."

You're watching him, staying right where you are- his back still turned towards you, while he continues to occupy himself with the little yarn toy you made. "I don't remember her. I only know that she died, at some point." He shrugs to himself. "Not like it matters. Neither of them thought of me as something other than an accident." He scoffs, and you feel the need to comfort him-

but you don't know how.

"So.. that's why you hate your human side?" You wonder, but he shakes his head.

"I don't hate it." He denies. "I just.. hate being reminded of what I am, I guess." Jungkook tries to explain. "I'm known as the son of a guy who knocked up a human prostitute. I'm a bastard who never lived up to his father's expectations." He growls mostly. "I'm nothing but a joke to most people who know my father. And you'll be nothing but a joke either, if you continue to travel with me." He turns towards you, looking over his shoulder at your knees- unable to quite face you fully.

"You're Jungkook." You say, and he freezes- before he slowly let's his eyes travel upwards to your face, eyes swirling colors, emotions unsure.

"..what?" He breathes out, genuinely unsure. He knows who he is. What the hell do you mean by that?

"You're Jungkook." You repeat, shrugging. "You're a shipcaptain. A vendor. Traveler." You start to count, and his irises start to change- slowly seemingly settling into a soft, warm hazel- timid, but appreciative almost.

Looking up the meanings of colors in your free time is really starting to pay off.

"You're not your father. Or your mother." You shake your head. "Neither will you be like your children, if you ever have some. I'm not like my parents either, and neither is anyone else." You explain. "We're all just in control of ourselves. The only life I have any control over is my own, and the only life you have control over is yours." You tell him, slowly moving a bit closer as he leans his head down to look at the floor again. "You can't change your past. You can't erase it either."

"So I'm just cursed with it." He scoffs at no one.

"Just as long as you don't accept it." You shrug next to him, your legs now dangling off the edge of the bed, bare feet swinging back and forth next to his boots which are firmly planted on the floor. "The moment you accept that that's a part of you, you can move on. Because you maybe can't change your past-" You say, bumping your shoulder into his side to lift the mood a little. "-but you can control your future."

"What's the point if no one cares about anything but that?" He argues, eyes a grim grey color. "It doesn't matter. I don't want you to be stuck with.. a label like that too." He shakes his head.

"I'm not like you though." You huff, crossing your arms, making him look at you. "I don't care."

"You don't care that people will think I'm just doing the same thing he did?" He challenges, looking at you with a fiery gaze. This is not going according to his plan. "You're telling me you don't give a shit about the fact that everyone who knows him, will see you and immediately think of you as nothing but a sex slave?" he argues, standing up to instead stand in front of you, hands pushing into the mattress right next to your thighs, face only inches from yours. "You don't get to lie to me and say that you don't care about that." He growls. "I don't accept you sitting here, trying to convince me that you won't mind being known as the human plaything of the bastard who couldn't even earn his spot in the crew of a slave trader." He growls.

"I don't mind." You answer, summoning all of your confidence not to flinch, even with his angry red gaze on you, noses almost touching.

"Why." He quietly sneers, clearly agitated. "How can you not care?!" He barks at you, and you do lean back a tiny bit at that- heart beating a bit faster from the sheer force of his emotions.

"If a tree falls down in the woods and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound?" you ask, and it's almost comical how his eyes flash a surprised white, entire body flinching back in confusion. "It's a saying on earth." You explain. "If you don't take a picture of a sunset, was it really as pretty as you remember?" You ask, and he seems entirely caught off guard.

"I don't.. understand." He admits. You giggle.

"Me calling you a bird doesn't make you one." You explain with a smile. And that, seems to click with him, as he looks at you with what you can only describe as genuine surprise. As if he's never really.. thought about it like that.

And then, you lean forward- arms pulling him closer, as you rest your head against his shoulder, holding him for a good moment.

Something he simply lets happen, because you're right.

He is in control of his life.

"I'm scared of you." He confesses, and you're a bit surprised, letting go of him as he stands upright again, arms crossed, eyes a pinkish hue.

"huh?" You ask, unsure what he's talking about.

"I.. enjoy your company." He admits. "I want you to stay. But at the same time, I want you to stay away from me." He tells you.

"..why?" You wonder, his words not making any sense.

"Because you can hurt me." He explains. "Maybe not physically- but emotionally."

"…oh." You realize what he's talking about, and now it's you who's looking away. "I mean.. uh.. I mean you're really handsome, don't get me wrong! But-" You stammer, a little bashful now. And the worst thing is that now, he seems oddly confident again- as if that was all he needed to connect the dots that you're not the only one developing deeper interest in the other.

"Handsome, huh?" He comments, arms crossed, gaze playfully pink.

"I uh- yeah? But uhm.. I mean, you know.. we're kind of just starting to really talk, so.." You mumble, looking away now. What the hell? Since when are you this shy? And how have you not noticed him not even wearing his usual uniform jacket? Those tattoos fill up his entire arm-

"That we do." He nods, feeling oddly light now that he's.. talked about this, to anyone. "And I'd.. like to continue to talk to you." He offers, making you look up at him again.

And somehow, you can read the message he's actually trying to tell you, between the lines of those words.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're putting a bag on the free spot near his control station, causing him to look at you with a questioning gaze.

You've both agreed on a few rules now that you're staying during his.. well, mating season issue. One of them is to keep physical contact to a minimum, and other general rules are to leave him alone if he asks you to, or to take some time to wake up before walking into the command central- though you're not sure what that one's about. It's all stuff you can follow easily though- especially if it makes him more comfortable being around you. "what's this?" He wonders, opening the bag, finding multiple, small yarn animals inside.

"I'm being productive!" You exclaim proudly. "Maybe we could sell them at our next stop? I'm sure someone has like.. maybe a currency or two left over to pay for one of them." You propose, but much to your surprise, he seems rather conflicted over it, pulling one out to inspect. It's a mouse, black bead eyes staring at him. "You don't think so?" You wonder, and he shrugs.

"No, it's not that.." He mumbles. "But.. you don't have to earn money." He tells you.

"I know. But I want to." You explain yourself. "And, the ship is already full of them. We can sell those too-" You say, reaching for a short snake hanging from a screw slightly poking out the metal casing of the control screen, when he reaches out first, snatching it almost protectively away from you first.

"No-!" He barks, looking around with a sharp, cautiously yellow gaze. "…those can stay." He clears his throat, hanging the little knitted animal back where it was, adjusting it's position so it faces him. "We're not going to land anywhere within the next few weeks anyways. We'll fuel at outposts instead." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook.. we can't hoard all of them here." You giggle, and he looks to the side at that, clearly feeling called out.

"..I'm not hoarding them. I'm just saying you don't have to.. work, or anything like that." He argues back, trying to occupy himself with the control panel.

"I know. But, with the money I get from maybe selling them, I could buy more yarn or something." You shrug, sitting on one of the nearby server boxes.

"..what's wrong with me buying it for you?" He growls a bit offended, jaw clenched. You know this is probably just his hormones making him act like that, but it's still a little funny to tease him.

"Nothing!" You laugh. "I just wanna be independent. Earn my spot." You explain.

"You don't have to earn shit." He denies, tapping away on the touch panel in front of him. "...but I guess if you want to. Don't need my permission anyways." He huffs annoyed, making you laugh as you look at him almost pout to himself, trying to appear all busy when in reality, you know that the course he's flying is a safe route the autopilot has flown numerous times before.

"Hey Jungkook?" You ask, and he looks up at that, showing you his attention has been caught. "I like you." You say, and the look on his face is quite literally the most hilarious and wholesome thing you've ever seen -

Eyes wide open, round and filled with a shy blue, before it melts into pink, seconds until he closes them, and holds a hand in front of them to shield himself.

"Timeout, you demon!" He barks out, opening the main door for you. "Get out!" He yells, though it's clear that he doesn't mean it in an evil or genuinely upset manner.

Because even though you do as he says, laughing on your way to your room, he does later check in to make sure he's not actually mad at you- though it's rather sent as a text message on the control screen in your room, instead of spoken words.

Small steps, you think to yourself. Small steps.

[zapreportsblog]

↱ unexpected attractions ↰

➘ summary : pro hero hawks finds himself infatuated with a young woman he sees out when patrolling one day

➘ Hawks x reader, Bnha x reader, Keigo Takami x reader

The city of Musutafu bustled with activity, its streets illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights as dusk settled over the horizon. High above, the crimson feathers of the Pro Hero Hawks fluttered gracefully, his keen eyes scanning the cityscape for any signs of trouble. It was just another routine patrol for him, keeping the citizens safe and maintaining the peace.

As he glided through the skies, Hawks noticed a group of civilians huddled around a street vendor, their laughter and chatter drifting upward. Curiosity piqued, he descended with a graceful arc, landing near the bustling crowd. Peering down, his sharp gaze fell upon a young woman, her (h/c) hair caught in the gentle breeze as she conversed with the vendor.

"(Y/N)," the name slipped through the vendor's lips, and Hawks felt an inexplicable tug at his heartstrings. His red eyes lingered on her, captivated by her presence. She seemed to possess an air of innocence and warmth, drawing people to her effortlessly.

Unable to resist, Hawks cleared his throat and approached, his wings folding elegantly behind him. "(Y/N), huh?" he echoed, a charming smile curving his lips as he joined the conversation. The woman looked up at him, her (e/c) eyes meeting his fiery gaze.

"Oh, hi," she greeted, offering a friendly smile. "You must be a Pro Hero, right? I've heard about you. I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you."

Hawks nodded, his heart racing slightly as he admired the way her smile lit up her face. "The pleasure's mine. Just Hawks will do." He extended a gloved hand towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.

"(Y/N)," she repeated, a soft blush coloring her cheeks as she shook his hand. "I've seen you on TV. Your wings are incredible."

He chuckled, an almost boyish excitement bubbling within him. "Thanks. They're handy, I guess."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, Hawks finding himself hanging onto her every word. He learned about her passions, her dreams, and her love for the city. The more he discovered, the deeper he found himself falling under her spell. There was something about her that ignited a fire within him, a desire to be near her, to protect her.

Time seemed to slip away unnoticed, the two of them engrossed in each other's company. Hawks laughed at her jokes, and she blushed at his compliments. The city's noises faded into the background as their connection deepened, creating a world of their own.

As the night wore on, Hawks realized he had never felt this way before. This wasn't just admiration for a fellow citizen; it was an infatuation, a longing that he couldn't explain. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to keep her close, to ensure her safety at all costs.

"I hate to cut our chat short," Hawks said reluctantly, his heart heavy at the thought of leaving her side. "But duty calls. I need to get back to patrolling."

(Y/N) nodded understandingly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Of course. Stay safe out there, Hawks."

He gave her a charming grin, his wings flexing instinctively as he prepared to take to the skies. "Don't worry about me. And hey, maybe we'll bump into each other again."

As Hawks soared back into the night sky, his thoughts were consumed by the young woman he had just met. He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was more than just chance—it was the beginning of something inexplicable, a pull that he couldn't resist.

Little did he know, this chance meeting would mark the start of a profound and tumultuous journey, intertwining their fates in ways neither of them could have foreseen.

Days turned into weeks, and Hawks found himself patrolling the city more frequently than ever before, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds below for a glimpse of (Y/N). He couldn't deny the growing infatuation he felt for her, the way his heart quickened every time her name crossed his mind.

One evening, while perched atop a high-rise building, Hawks caught sight of (Y/N) once again. She was walking along the bustling streets, her presence seemingly radiant even in the midst of the city's chaos. Without hesitation, he spread his crimson wings and descended, landing gracefully before her.

"(Y/N)," he greeted with a warmth in his voice that he hadn't felt in years. His heart raced as her eyes met his, her surprise mirrored in the subtle widening of her (e/c) orbs.

"Hawks," she replied, a mixture of astonishment and delight evident in her tone. "Fancy running into you again."

He chuckled, a touch of nervousness dancing beneath his confident exterior. "It's funny how fate works sometimes."

As they chatted, Hawks discovered more about (Y/N)'s daily life—the way she worked tirelessly to support her family and the kindness she extended to strangers on the street. His admiration for her only grew, solidifying into something that was undeniably affectionate.

As the weeks turned into months, their encounters became more frequent, and Hawks found himself drawn to (Y/N) like a moth to a flame. He'd fly by her workplace, stopping for a quick chat, or they'd meet during his patrols. Their conversations deepened, revealing their hopes, fears, and dreams.

One evening, after rescuing civilians from a massive fire, Hawks landed near (Y/N)'s apartment building. Smoke still lingered in the air, and he was covered in soot and sweat. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to pay her a visit.

(Y/N) opened the door, her eyes widening at the sight of him in his disheveled state. "Hawks, you're... you're a mess."

He chuckled, a wry smile on his lips. "Yeah, well, saving lives doesn't always come with looking presentable."

She stepped aside, inviting him in. "Come on in. I'll get you some water."

As he sat in her living room, Hawks couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in her presence. Her apartment was cozy and welcoming, reflecting her personality perfectly. He watched as she bustled around the kitchen, his heart warming at the simple domesticity of the scene.

"(Y/N)," he began, his voice a bit more hesitant than usual. "I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you."

She turned to face him, handing him a glass of water. "Likewise, Hawks. You're not like other heroes I've met. You're different, in a good way."

Hawks felt a rush of emotions flood over him—gratitude, affection, and a hint of uncertainty. He knew that he was treading on dangerous territory, that his feelings for her were becoming stronger by the day. But he couldn't help himself; he was drawn to her in a way that he couldn't explain.

As the night wore on, the two of them shared stories and laughter, their connection deepening even further. Hawks found himself opening up about his life as a hero, the challenges he faced, and the expectations placed upon him. (Y/N) listened with empathy, offering a level of understanding that he had never encountered before.

As he left her apartment that night, Hawks realized that he was falling in love—a realization that both exhilarated and terrified him. He was a Pro Hero, someone who was supposed to be above such vulnerabilities. Yet, in (Y/N)'s presence, he felt human, and that was both a blessing and a curse.

Little did he know, his growing affection for (Y/N) would lead him down a path he never could have predicted, setting into motion events that would challenge his identity, his loyalties, and the very nature of his existence as a hero.

As the days went on and weeks came and go, Hawks found it increasingly difficult to control his emotions. (Y/N) had become a constant presence in his thoughts, a flickering flame that grew brighter with each passing moment. He couldn't ignore the growing obsession that consumed his mind, consuming him within its fiery grip.

Everything about (Y/N) became magnified in Hawks' eyes. Her every action, every word, and every smile held an unparalleled significance. He analyzed her every move, searching for hidden meanings and deciphering her thoughts. In his mind, she was no longer just a person; she was his mate, his one true connection in this chaotic world.

Hawks began to subtly alter his daily routine to ensure their paths crossed more often. He started tracking her movements, gathering information about her schedule, and arranging coincidental encounters. It was an orchestrated dance of obsession, with Hawks pulling the strings, and (Y/N) unknowingly dancing to his tune.

He meticulously collected mementos from their brief encounters: a fallen strand of hair, a discarded coffee cup, even a forgotten pencil. These mundane treasures held an inexplicable power over him, making his heart race with anticipation. They became his precious possessions, his connection to (Y/N), and his reassurance that their fates were intertwined.

In his quest to be closer to her, Hawks routes as (Y/N) and even went to the same places she would visit frequently. He seamlessly integrated himself into her world, earning her trust and admiration. But this was only the beginning. His obsession demanded more; it demanded absolute possession.

Hawks began to indulge in his darker desires, feeding the flames of his twisted infatuation. His urge to protect her turned into an insatiable need to control her every move. He meticulously hacked into her social media accounts, devoured the digital remnants of her life, and analyzed every interaction she had. Every notification, every message became evidence of her existence.

Late at night, in the cold depths of his secret room, Hawks poured over pictures and videos of (Y/N), his eyes shining with anticipation and possessiveness. It was a dangerous game he played, fueling his obsession with every glimpse of her smile, every hint of vulnerability she unknowingly revealed.

His obsession grew as he yearned for their worlds to merge entirely. He envisioned a future where (Y/N) belonged solely to him, where he could protect her from all harm and cherish her without judgment. In his delusional fantasies, he was the savior, the one who would provide the love and security she lacked.

However, deep down, Hawks sensed the fragile line he was treading. He understood the danger that lurked within his obsession, threatening to consume him completely. Yet, he couldn't resist the gravitational pull he felt towards (Y/N). His heart and mind were irreversibly entangled with hers, and he was unwilling to let go.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Hawks's love had transformed into something far more sinister. His obsession had become his reason for existence, fueling his every action and decision. It was a dark path he walked, driven by the overwhelming desire to possess what he believed was rightfully his.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People - Part II: Do Unto Others (Platonic)

Part 1 is here!

NOTE: Once again, this series (maybe? if people like it and their dynamic?) will be shorter pieces around certain scenes rather than full episodes. Kind of like summaries with specific lil bits with the main focus being Lucy and Y/N's friendship. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You take Lucy to Filly. A gunfight ensues. Lucy surprises you with loyalty.

"I thought I'd have to marry my Cousin," Lucy tells you as you both start to leave the desert and enter a forest area.

"...Uh...Ok?" you say, not really sure how to react to the information your new friend has just given you.

"Is that not...is that now how things are done up here? What about the survival of the Human Race?"

You snort, helping her over a log, "Don't think that's the thing on a lot of people's minds."

"How so?" she asks, genuinley confused.

"More so just concerned about the whole, survival of the self, type thing."

"That's understandable. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"I won't."

"No, I meant like, ask me. 'Sure, go ahead.'"

"Oh. Sorry. Still getting used to the lingo out here."

You snort again, "ain't too much to learn. And, you're fine, wasn't the worse miscommunication."

She nods, smile on her face, "okey dokey."

You keep walking on, passing two people. You move out of their way, but Lucy gives them a friendly greeting. Nothing comes of it, but you still find yourself leaning in close to her - and accidentally making her jump as she didn't see that you had stopped - and saying to her, "try not to do that in general when out, ok? In towns? Maybe, especially with your quest. But out here," you move your finger in a circular motion, "don't."

"Can I ask why? Nothing bad happened," you partly pity and find her innocence kind of endearing.

"Just...this time it didn't go bad. It might not next time."

"Sorry."

"Don't - don't be sorry," you say, finding your guard going down a bit at her genuine apology, "just...lessons learnt, right?"

She nods, enthusiastically, "yes. One hundo percento!"

You shake your head, "alrighty then. Onward to Filly."

Filly wasn't a bad town. It had all sorts of life in it, not all nice mind, and a certain charm with the environment it laid in. It was also what led you to realise that, for most of your time surviving, you had spent it wandering in circles essentially, with you almost always ending up back here and some point.

Lucy moves between two people, reaching out and grabbing your hand to make sure you don't get lost. She tightens it a bit as you look back at the two people as they look at Lucy, discussing to themselves about the Vault Dweller.

"Y/N, come on," she says, tugging on your hand, "no need to start a fight."

Your hand unfurls from the fist it was in.

You nod at her, she nods back.

A vendor tries to get her to try some meat; she tries to find information on her dad; the vendor just goes back to selling meat.

"Move on. Come on. Don't wanna get trapped here," you say, trying to usher Lucy along.

"But he might --" Lucy protests.

"Trust me?" you ask, attempting to just keep her moving.

Yet --

"I do," Lucy says.

It makes you both pause.

"What?" she asks, genuinley confused.

"That quick, huh?"

She nods, now moving of her own volition.

"Like I said, good judge of character."

She walks on a bit, as you stay put.

"Huh," you say. You'd never been told that before. A snake, sure. Or some other bad word. But never someone to be trusted. Sounded foreign to you.

Still, it made you have a slight spring in your step - or as much as you could, given your current predicament.

Lucy looks in wonder at the place, "Wow-wee!" she says.

"Not a bad looker, is it? End of the world really brings out the creativity in people."

"I didn't expect this, for sure," she admits. Maybe it's her honesty, the ability to have her guard almost always be down, that makes you admire her a bit more. She trusts easily. It shakes you a bit, how quickly she both did that and gave you her water. Things like that are worth gold out here. And yet she gave it to you freely.

She's the one with that dart gun, and yet you find yourself being more of the protector. She accidentally barges shoulder with someone, and apologises. The man, a towering figure, looks her up and down. You stand between them, until his friend hits him as well.

"They might have something for you," you say, nodding to the shop, "I'll stay with you until you find something here. Then, let you be on your way."

"Wait, you aren't coming with me to my dad?" she asks, saddened.

"I mean, I didn't think so? If she has something, then you know where to go. I told you the golden rule: don't fuck with people, and they won't with you. About all you need to know really. That, and you got that," you nod to her weapon, "so you should be ok."

"'Should'?"

You sigh, running a hand on your face. You feel off, "yeah. I mean, I know you said about your vault and all, but that life is too good for someone like me."

"That's not true," she says, hurt on your behalf.

You hold a hand up, "look, we'll talk after, ok? You just go in first, see if she knows anything, then go from there, ok?"

She nods, mood dampened a little. She goes in; you sit in a chair, coughing a few times as you do. You don't know if it's the heat, or what, but something is dragging you down. You just hope it's not this infection. That would be an embarrassing way to go.

Time ticks by, before she leaves, face looking depressed.

"What happened?" you ask. But you don't get an answer, instead, she pauses, looking to a man with glasses.

He warns her about going back to her vault. That it isn't safe here. You chuckle, a dry one but still, he's hit the nail on the head.

He then surprises you both, he tells her facts about her vault: their primary crop is corn; there is a telesonic projector in your farm; it loops images of the Nebraskan countryside; meritocracy - whatever that means - something about the right thing apparently.

You miss the rest, and jolt at a hand on your shoulder. It's Lucy, who is looking at you in concern. She says something, looks away from you, but the voices overlap until -

"It's ok," Lucy says, softly. You look, and see the man she was talking to, a doctor - round glasses, a kind smile on his aged face, "he's a doctor."

"I don't have many - or any tools," he says, looking apologetic.

You wave him off, "not like I have many - or any caps."

He chuckles, leaning down a bit to look at you, "I think, in your condition, I can make an exception," you chuckle a bit this time - it instantly goes into a cough, "let's have a look at you," he reaches out, and you recoil, "to help, I will need to touch."

You seem to forget Lucy had previously held your hand and you had felt nothing of it, but you flinch when even she touches you and puts a hand on your knee.

"Y/N, this is the only way to help you," she insists, "you helped me get here. And, to be honest, I don't really want to leave you in this condition."

You look at her pleading eyes. She's only known you for an hour, tops, and yet she wants the genuine best for you.

You've been looked at like that before, it didn't end well. Friendships never did.

Still, you find yourself nodding. The doctor is gentle with his touch, looking at your scratches.

"I believe it is this one," he says, gesturing to one on your torn trousers being exposed to everything.

"Someone urinated on it," Lucy says.

The doctor looks to you, you confirm it, "ah, then this is what may of caused the infection. Either that, or general exposure to wasteland itself. How long have you had this wound?"

"I honestly do not know."

The doctor nods, stands, and readjusts his glasses, "I will try find you a Stimpack inside, and see if that helps your pain."

The woman from inside the shop comes out, and helps the doctor 'Wilzig' inside. Lucy helps you up. However, before anything else can happen, a Ghoul stands up, calling out to him.

Wilzig's leg is blown off. There's a tense moment, before bullets start flying. A stray bullet catches you on the shoulder. You stumble into the store. You look for a weapon, anything to help keep yourself and Lucy alive as the gunshots keep flying.

"Y/N. Y/N!" Lucy says, making sure not to touch you, but close enough to catch you if you fall, "you can't fight like this! You need to hide!"

"I ain't hiding!" you say, memories of a previous failure flashing in your mind, "not with that monster outside."

"I'll deal with him."

"With that little piss shooter?!" you snap, adrenaline pushing you at this point. A couple more coughs leave you.

"Look, you can't help like this, ok?" she says, taking her weapon out. And, despite your own circumstances, you can see clearly that it's drugs loaded into the thing - it'll do nothing here, "I will solve this as peacefully as I can, ok."

"That really ain't a good idea -"

"Trust me, Y/N. Ok? Golden rule. I have mine and you have yours. Right now, I'm gonna use mine, but if it goes bad, I'll use yours and this."

You can't even stop her as she goes outside.

The Ghoul seems almost annoyed at this whole thing. But, before he can shoot Lucy, a Brotherhood member appears in a suit, and blocks shots aimed for Lucy as they both come through the wall.

With the distraction, you take your moment. You don't have a gone, but you may as well...help. The good doctor helped you after all.

With Lucy and the shop owner's help, you pull Wilzig inside. They sit him down on a seat, as your wounds get to you. You stumble.

Lucy, in an instant, catches you and puts you on your own seat.

"Holy moly," Lucy says, looking at your bleeding shoulder, "that is in deep.

"I know," you say, trying to find something to pull it out with. The shop owner seems to know this, and pushes a knife towards you. You take it, and take a few steadying breaths.

Your hand shakes, adrenaline not helping you here at all. You're scared too. Have whatever the hell is wrong with you plus your fear. Not a great combo.

Lucy, attempting to ignore the Wilzig having a robotic foot being shoved into him, looks at you and approaches you.

"Here," she says, taking your hand and taking the knife, "let me."

"You even know what you're doing?"

She shrugs, "steadier hand, somehow," she quips, holding out her hand and comparing it to yours, "and, no time like the present."

You suppose you have like no options, so you just nod.

"You wanna know my golden rule?" she asks, trying to distract you as she psyches herself up. You make a noise she assumes is 'ok' and continues, "'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'" she says, "you helped me, I'll help you. That is how we rebuild."

"The hell you jump from me to rebui--" you are cut off when Lucy jabs the knife into your shoulder. A burning white flash hits your vision. You hear a plethora of 'sorry!' leave her, but you finally the pain start to fade a small bit when you feel the knife be removed along with the bullet casing.

"Done! Done!" Lucy says. You try and focus your breathing and mind, trying to escape the pain.

You feel a glass of something be put in your hand. You down it. You feel the burn of some alcoholic drink.

"Now," the shopkeeper says," that should keep your friend going for a little bit. At least, until they find a Stimpack. I'm sure you'll find one on your way to Moldaver. You feel her pat you - you don't flinch, too focused on being in the present and not spinning, "you alright, kid?"

You give a thumbs up.

She gives you another pat. You open your eyes. You don't feel amazing. But, you don't feel as worse, so in this world that's positively amazing.

"I'll sneak you three out back," the shopkeeper says.

She keeps her word. Once again, something rare here.

Lucy, yourself, and Wilzig walk through the wasteland. Lucy keeps checking her pip boy every so often.

He passes away, and Lucy looks to the blade she has been given. It startles her when it activates.

You come to a rest, and your day gets even better:

Wilzig has taken a cyanide pill, and you need to decapitate him to keep going and have something to give Moldaver.

"Okey dokey, Luce," she says to herself, "you can do this. You can do this. Just...think of it as a massive knife that...moves, and you'll be -"

It activates again and she drops it. She doesn't reach it first, however, you do.

"Look away, is all I'll say."

"No, Y/N. No, you don't have to do this --"

"'Do unto others', right?" You nod, preparing yourself for the grim task, "I got this, ok? Just, look away, please? It'll get real messy."

She stutters a few times; seemingly wanting to persist, thank you, and object all in one go. But, she turns around. You look back at the body.

"Here we go..." you tell yourself, before activating the blade.

Guess you're in this now...fully.

Part 3

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 10

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

TEN: Let the Sleeper Awake

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

-

Summary: Simon returns in time for the May Day celebration, wanting to surprise his doll, but watching her perform has him viewing her in a very different light.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Spice- just a pinch, Mention of masturbation, Fluff & Feels, Simon checks out doll, Doll checks out Simon, Idiots in love lust, the 141 have a chat sesh, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Beltane (a.k.a. May Eve/May Day) is a fire and... ahem!... fertility festival. So, I thought, what better time for Simon and his doll to finally realize that there's a little more than friendly feelings between them. Let the sleepers awake. 😏)

Word Count: 2.9K

-

Chapter 10

-

“Beltane magick here we sing

Chant the rune and dance the ring

Joy and blessing shall it bring 

Let the sleeper awake!”

― Doreene Valiente, Beltane Chant

-

The village green was a hive of activity, preparations for the May Day celebration in full swing.

Booths, tents and stalls lined the streets, vendors setting up their wares and stocking up for the large crowds expected for the two-day celebration. An abundance of flowers, real and fake, decorated the whole of the village’s heart, garlands and wreaths attached to every available surface, every shop window sporting bright floral displays.

The maypole had been raised at the back of the green, its brightly colored ribbons fluttering in the warm breeze. The volunteers performing this year were gathered off to the side taking a break from their practice, you and Fiona among them.

The two of you had been roped into volunteering, so you both had to learn the performances from scratch. Fi especially was struggling with the interweaving moves, cursing under her breath every time she made a misstep.

“If I’d known it was goin’ t’be this big of a pain in me arse, I would’a hid in the loo when I saw Margie comin’,” she groused, wiping a forearm across her brow. She turned up her bottled water and took a large gulp as she glared at Margie Bartleby, proud owner of the Tea Room and the entertainment director of the festivities this year. “All tha’ woman needs is a bloody whip t’crack over our heads.”

You sniffed in amusement, not bothering to comment. You knew Fi was just venting her frustration and didn’t mean a word of what she said. You and she both adored the older woman, though you had to admit that Margie could be a right task master when she wanted to be.

You sipped at your water as you pulled your cell from your back pocket to check your notifications, drifting under the shade of a tent to see the screen better. You were hoping to see a message from Riley, but you were again disappointed.

He’d been gone since the last week of March, only a week and half after you had moved in with him. There had been no word from him save for a single text around mid-April to tell you if all went according to plan, he might be home by the end of the month. You had really been hoping he would make it back in time for the May Day celebration, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. He always seemed to be deployed during holidays.

“Still no word?” Fi asked, joining you.

You sighed and slipped the phone back in your pocket. “No.”

She nudged your shoulder. “Maybe ye’ll get a May Day miracle an’ he’ll show up dressed like Jack o' the Green.” Her grin turned lewd. “Can’t ya just picture it? Riley wearin’ nothin’ but a patch o’ moss over his dangly bits with oak leaves stuck all in his mask?”

“Fi-ona!” Heat crept up your neck to your cheeks, yet the image she created popped unbidden into your head.

Your face grew hotter as you imagined him dressed as Fi had described, the mental pictures in your head far from chaste. Riley was built like a Norse god, and even with the mask he earned his fair share of appreciative glances. You couldn't help but look, too; you were his friend, but that didn't make you immune to him.

When you heard Fi laughing at you, you blinked out of your daydream and narrowed your eyes. “Shut up,” you hissed at her, but couldn’t hide your wry smirk.

“Come along, lovies! Break's over!” Margie called to the group. “Let’s get back to it. We need to practice the bonfire procession and dance next!”

Fiona groaned, scowling. “God, I’ll be glad when we’re done with this. Never again,” she vowed as the two of you trudged back out to the green together.

-

Simon sat back in his seat, eyes focused out the window of the plane, half-listening to Soap and Gaz arguing about how they were going to spend their first night on leave. His cell phone was in his hand, your last text open. It was an image of the green decorated for May Day.

“Oi, Ghost! Ya should come with us t'night. We’re goin’ to that new pub in Hereford,” Gaz invited.

Simon slanted a glance his way, dark eyes glinting inside his skull mask. “Can’t. Got plans.”

“Ah, c’mon, mate. Readin' in your bunk isn’t plans,” Gaz replied, scoffing.

“Did ye ferget?” Soap spoke up, a mischievous smirk on his face as he bumped the other sergeant's arm. “Ghost has t’get’ home t’see his doll dance. Ain't tha' right, LT?”

Simon scowled at him. The nosy bastard had overheard him tell Price about you performing in the May Day festival, after the captain had asked him how "his doll" was doing. So, of course, Johnny hadn’t shut up about it since, pestering him for intel about his ‘wee doll’.

“Oh, that’s right,” Gaz drawled, his smile spreading wide. “Maybe we should go home with Ghost, then. You can introduce us to your doll.”

“Not happenin',” Simon gruffed. “Ya lot ain’t gettin’ anywhere near ‘er.”

Soap chuckled, puffing out his chest. “Worried I’ll nick yer lass, LT?” He smoothed his hand over his mohawk, flexing his bicep with a cheeky grin. “Canna blame ye. There’s a lot here t’tempt her away,” he teased, making his pecs jump beneath his tight tee. Gaz cackled.

Simon stuck his phone back in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down at the sergeant. “Ain't worried. Dee knows a wanker when she sees one."

"Oh-ho!" Soap crowed. "So, it's Dee, is it? Slipped up an' said her name, LT." He winked at Gaz as Simon muttered a curse. "Dee an' Johnny. Got a nice ring to it, aye?"

“Enough, lads,” Price called from behind his laptop, not even bothering to look up. The two immediately shut their gobs.

As soon as the plane touched down, Simon was up and heading down the ramp as it lowered. Grinning like a devil, Soap was ready to head after him when Price grabbed him by the back of his tac vest and hauled him back. 

“Bloody hell, lad, give it a rest,” he uttered lowly.

Gaz came abreast of them and leaned into whisper, “We just wanna know about her, Cap. I mean— it's Ghost. Kinda hard to imagine him havin' a bird. Has he told ya anything about her? Have ya seen a picture of her?"

Price scrubbed at his beard. “Never met the lass. Ya lads know he likes to keep his personal life private. Now, both of ya, leave it alone.”

“Canna believe yer no' a wee bit curious, sir,” Soap persisted. “Would ye no' like t’meet the lass tha’ caught the Ghost?”

Price wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t curious, but more than anything, he was just glad to see his lieutenant at ease, for a change. He was still a right broody cunt, but his attitude had definitely improved. “Lads, as long as she makes him happy, that’s all I care 'bout. Now, mind yer bloody business an' leave him alone, yeah?”

“Think he’d show us a picture of her if we asked nice?” Soap wondered aloud, undeterred. "I bet she's a right bonnie lass, aye? Have t'be t'get the LT all hot an' bothered." He waggled his eyebrows.

Price dragged a hand over his face and groaned.

-

Simon ended up parking behind the Dog when he finally made into to the village. Coming through the alley, he could see the crowd milling about the green and vendor booths, the smell of fried food and sweets wafting down the ginnel on the breeze. His stomach growled and he cursed himself for not eating something before leaving the base, but he'd been in a hurry to get home.

He usually stayed on base if he wasn't deployed when events like this were going on in Banfield. He hated dealing with the extra traffic and large crowds that descended on the village, but he could suck it up and deal with it just this once, since it was for you.

Apparently, he'd made it back just in time. Most of the crowd had gathered near the back of the green around the maypole, Margie's familiar voice loud and clear over the PA system as she announced that the maypole dance was about to begin.

Simon pressed through the throng of people, ignoring the looks and startled gasps as they shuffled out of his way. His eyes scanned over the dancers, searching for you, his eyes going a little wide when he spotted you standing with your back to him.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he felt like he'd been poleaxed, his dazed eyes roving over your figure. You were dressed like the other dancers, wearing a pastel satin undress covered in layers of wispy, see-through tulle, but the underdress clung to your breasts and hips, the swell of your bum accentuated by the slippery material. When you shifted your weight to pose in the starting position, a split in the underdress revealed the length of your thigh, the layered tulle separating to expose it.

Simon's mouth fell open under his surgical mask, eyes avid as the music began to play. He watched with rapt attention as you skipped and dipped and twirled, weaving in and out with the other dancers to braid the colored ribbons around the pole. Your hair had been left loose, a crown of flowers on your head, makeup done to give your features an ethereal cast. You looked like a fairy, flitting around, he mused. A really curvaceous, sultry, sexy fairy...

A familiar feeling tingled low in his abdomen and the front of jeans were suddenly too tight. He shook his head, grunting at his base reaction, but now that he'd seen you this way, he knew there was no denying it. You were stunning, the prettiest bird he'd ever seen. His pretty doll. Possessive pride welled up in his chest, straightening his spine and lifting his chin. That was his beautiful doll out there dancing; his.

When the dance ended, all the performers took a bow and then the crowd surrounded them. Simon hung back, waiting, wanting to see your expression when you finally spotted him.

So worth the wait.

It was Fiona that saw him first, nudging your shoulder and whispering at your ear as she pointed him out. The slight frown of confusion on your face transformed into a look of joyous surprise, your smile wide and beaming as you rushed to meet him, crying out, "Oh, my God! Ri!" as you leapt up to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

It stunned him at first, being greeted that way. Anyone else would have found themselves thrown to the ground with a knee in their back, but you? You he caught up in his arms and held on tight, breathing you in as his hands molded to your back and waist like he had done this a thousand times. It was instinctive and felt so right.

You pulled back to gaze into his eyes, your smile becoming something softer, more intimate. "I'm so glad you made it, Ri. Can't believe you're finally home. I've missed you."

His chest went tight, a pleased flush warming his face. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Missed ya, too, doll. 'S good t'be home."

He had a sudden, intense urge to pull down his mask and kiss you. His fingers twitched on your back, muscles spasming in his arms. He couldn't recall the last time he'd kissed a woman on the lips, but damn if he wasn't gaggin' to bloody do it now. From the soft, hazy look in your eyes, he didn't think you would mind it, either, which only made the temptation worse.

You both turned your heads, startled, when Fiona giggled. She was already lowering her cellphone to look at the pic she had just taken. Simon tensed, his first instinct being to bark at her to delete the photo, but then another idea popped into his head.

He lowered you to the ground, stepping behind you before planting his hands firmly on your hips and pulling you back against his chest. "Take another one, Fi. Want t'send one t'my team."

She dutifully took the picture, smiling as she stepped forward to show you both how well it had turned out. "That one's a keeper."

Simon stared down at the picture, liking the way the two of you looked together. A rush of heat coursed through his veins at the sight of his hands on your hips, your hands covering his. He glanced over at your face as you studied the photo, and he could only describe your expression as incandescent; you were bloody glowing.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his side as his eyes met yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Definitely a keeper."

-

Simon ended up with dozens of photos saved on his phone by the time the festival was over. His favorite was the one Fiona had first taken, the one where he was holding you up in his arms, your heads together. He set that one as his screensaver.

However, the one he viewed the most was the one he took at the bonfire the last night of the festival.

He took it during the bonfire dance, you and the other dancers circling the high flames as you swayed and undulated in a jaw-dropping, frenzied dance that had wrecked his world. His heart had been beating as hard as the drums, his eyes fixated on you with a predatory intensity.

Then you had looked at him.

You had seen him in the crowd, a teasing, open-mouthed smile directed his way as your arms lifted over your head and you rolled your hips in a move that punched the air out of his lungs. He had lifted his phone and snapped the photo, capturing the moment.

He captured your sultry smile, that hooded gaze that was meant just for him. Your body's curves stood out in stark relief against the dark, your silken skin aglow from the flames. Every time he looked at it, he ended up in the loo with his cock in his hand, choking back his groans as he desperately fisted himself to completion.

It was bloody torture watching you disappear into your own bedroom later that night, every cell of his body on fire with the need to follow you. He didn't, but he wanted to. It was the fear of losing you that finally had him shuffling off to his own room, settling for your photo and his calloused hand.

It was on Sunday afternoon that he got a notification that the team was in their private group chat. You and Fi were gone to the shops, and he was sitting on the patio, drinking a Stella and enjoying the garden. Might as well join in, he thought; he had nothing better to do at the moment.

As soon as he entered the chat, Soap and Gaz started asking for details about the festival and, of course, you. Feeling a bit sadistic, the first photos he shared were of the green, the bonfire, the pub.

[SOAP]: Come on LT. U ken what we want! Show us a pic of ur doll. 😏 [GHOST]: No [GAZ]: Pleeeeaaaase!!! 🙏🏿🥺 [PRICE]: Bloody hell. Ignore them, lad. [GAZ]: We just want to see her Cap... [SOAP]: Is she ugly? I bet shes ugly. [PRICE]: SOAP! [GHOST]: Far from it johnny [SOAP]: Ur killn us LT! Just 1 pic pls pls pls!!! [PRICE]: Stand down, Sgts! Jesus Christ!

Simon couldn't help himself. He wanted to show you off. There was a smug smile on his face when he forwarded them the photos of you in a zip file.

There was a minute of inactivity, then the messages began to ping in rapid fire succession.

[GAZ]: That's ur doll?! She's bloody gorgeous, m8! 👍🏿 [SOAP]: sTEAMn fUKnJESUS!!!! [SOAP]: Insta-chub 👀🍆 [PRICE]: Well done, lad! She's a beauty. [SOAP]: Shes ded bonnie. U should introduce me 😈 [GAZ]: When can we meet her??? Is her friend single? 😏 [PRICE]: Behave, lads...

Simon huffed in amusement, feeling rather cocky as he began typing.

[GHOST]: Thx cap. [GHOST]: Her friend is single gaz. [GHOST]: U can suck it johnny. She's MY doll [GAZ]: Yeah. Suck it Soap! 😅 [SOAP]: Fair enough but... [SOAP]: Can I keep the pic of her @ the bonfire? [PRICE]: Christ. I need bloody a drink. Congrats, Simon. *(PRICE has left the chat.) [GHOST]: Hm. Just the one pic? [SOAP]: 🙏🥺 PLS??? [GHOST]: LOL [GHOST]: Hell NO [SOAP]: 😭 [GAZ]: 🤣🤣🤣

-

Prev. >> Next

-

@stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha @igotmajordaddyissues

-

[crowdeerdire]

Incredibly stupid Our Life AU - Ribfest

Background: Where I live there's an event going on called "Ribfest" where a ton of vendors come out, selling, as you can guess: ribs! It's really good! But... to get people interested in their stalls, they have 'conventionally attractive' people standing out front, wearing tank tops and shorts and handing out samples (mostly BBQ sauce to get you interested in their products). Because I'm a silly little goose, my mind went to: 'what if the OLBA boys were those conventionally attractive people standing out front to get people to try their BBQ'... Synopise: OLBA boys volunteer their time to help a friend in a rib competition by attracting customers to their stands with samples. (would take place in Step 4 after all the events for the sake of y'all being friends!)

Cove

Would be generally comfortable in the outfit (reminder: tank tops and shorts because it's hot af outside, but also designed to attract the customers ;) ), but trying to persuade passer-bys to try the sample would be hard at first

We know he can do that kind of stuff because he volunteers for ORCA and he's done it in the past for the funraising event

BUT

this time he knows the concept around why he was choosen and is dressed up like this

he's eye candy to get people to try BBQ

If he got to do it with someone else (i.e. Derek or MC) I think he would relax a bit more and maybe get into it, especially by Step 4 I see him a lot more comfortable in his own skin

If he was working with Baxter, I think he would still be awkward af (you'll see in a minute)

but if he's left on the front lines all by himself, he would be blushing and awkwardly standing there as people check him out and the booth he's working at

might be sweating bullets

get this man some WATER before he passes out

but since he did volunteer he would try his best and be geninuely friendly, I think? 'No pressure if you don't wanna try! But you should!! It's really good!!' *smiles*

btw would go 10x as red and be 10x as awkward if MC whistles and cat calls him (as a joke)

in the end he would try his best!

Baxter

Step 4 Baxter would get into it

Maybe a little embarrassed by the concept at first, knowing why he was choosen as eye candy to get people to try BBQ, but it wouldn't take him long to get into it

he understands a good business opportunity when he sees one

I think he would really get into it

like giving people a sly wink and a smirk

urging them to come over with his nice voice, almost purring

like I think this man is smooth when he's just playing

when he's not and genuinly likes someone, he's awkward af (but that's another story)

I think he would also be really good at remembering repeat customers??

like he would know why they're coming back, but would still play with them and be like 'Oh, how wonderful~ You came back for more?' with a smirk and a wink

making people giggle and blush

If he's working with the others I think he would play off them well, even try to help someone as nervous as Cove to relax a bit (or a nervous MC)

In the end I would think he would somehow find himself in the back, running the show rather then being up front. Somehow - even if he doesn't really know the friend he's helping. He just has good business sense

Derek

Derek is mister sunshine

If he's been asked to help, even if it's from a distant friend, he's putting 110% effort into it

Embarrassed by the concept of why he's dressed that way/put on display... BUT!!

he still tries REALLY hard

I think he would be the type that's kind of loud - cheering and getting people's attention?

But if that was getting a bad reaction (depending on the crowd) he would be calm and super nice, like Cove. Not wanting to pressure you into trying the BBQ, but SUPER excited when you do

If he got a sale because of his samples, he would high five who ever he's working with - or maybe a random stranger lol

he's just such a happy go lucky guy on the outside (although we all know the truth... but shush...)

working with others he would get really pumped up - especially with Cove and MC

Might be awkward with Baxter at first but I honestly see them getting along???

tbh Derek will just be a great sales person

big hype man

a/n: Hi, this is dumb but I couldn't get this out of my head and being really into Our Life lately has gotten me wanting to write again.. :))) Maybe I'll write more? Also I apologize if any of the characters seem OOC or anything. I was really trying to get them down right, but idk :))))

dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[jennaispunk]

Gift of a Friend

Summary: An unlikely meeting leads to something unexpected.

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (Talia)

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none. This is just fluff (sorry not sorry). A “This is how they met” story. It’s just two people who could use a friend finding each other. Maybe it might lead to more…..

Notes: I wrote this for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange. This is for you @sawymredfox!!! I hope you like this. Thank you for being brave and reaching out to me. Look at us, two introverts making a connection lol. You are too sweet and my world would be a little less bright without you in it. Love you. 💜💜

The title is from a Demi Levato song.

Thank you @fallingforthearch for being my beta.

graphics and support banners by the amazing @saradika-graphics

The sounds of the bazaar filled her ears: children laughing… vendors calling out sometimes in their native tongue and sometimes in basic, peddling their fruits and vegetables or homemade goods. The sun beat down on the dirt as she made her way through the bustle and cacophony, looking for a few things to make up her dinner for the evening.

Another long shift at the hospital had come and gone, mainly assisting with patching up drunken patrons from the cantina whose mouths had earned them a fist to the jaw or the nose.

Gathering the last things she needed, she headed to her small home, ready to finally relax and maybe start the new book she’d been dying to read. The sound of babbling behind her caught her attention. She looked down to see a small green creature looking up at her. His big dark eyes looked up at her curiously, almost as if he knew her. He babbled again and reached his arms out to her.

“Hey, little buddy…. Are you all alone? Where’s your mama?”

Her eyes darted, searching the crowd. He was an unusual looking creature. Not a species she had ever seen before, but so adorable. Surely, someone must be looking for him.

His ears twitched, and he made a sound that sounded almost like a whine. He instantly lifted his arms again, and she scooped him up. The little creature babbled happily in her arms. She stared at him, feeling a sense of comfort and peace with this little guy she hadn’t felt in a long time. She felt he was trying to communicate with her, even though all his sounds were only gibberish.

“Do you speak Basic?” Talia asked. “Can you tell me where your parents are?”

The little green creature babbled again, tilting his head. His little hand reached out to touch her face. She softly gasped at the unexpected contact but relaxed as she felt the warmth and comfort wash over her.

“There you are…”

Her eyes shot up to behold a broad man clad in armor and a helmet. She recognized his armor immediately; he was a Mandalorian. She blinked rapidly at him, her tongue briefly peeking out to wet her lips.

“He's yours?”

“Yes…he belongs to me.” His voice was devoid of emotion through the modulator. He stood rigid and tall, an unmoving statue. The sun created an almost halo-like ring around him, making him look like some ancient god she’d read about in a novel.  

“Friendly little guy, isn’t he?”

“He doesn’t usually like a lot of people.” His response was short and to the point.

A puff of air escaped her lips as the little green creature babbled in her arms. This mysterious Mandalorian was so hard to read and apparently not one for conversation.

“Come on, Grogu. It’s time to go home.”

Her brow ticked skyward. It was an interesting name. The little guy completely ignored him, continuing to coo and play with strands of her blonde hair swirling in the gentle breeze.

He exhaled loudly, his right knee jutting out slightly as his hands went to his hips.

“Grogu…”

The tone of his voice made Grogu’s ears droop slightly and he pouted for just a moment before leaping from her arms and returning to his Mandalorian.

He scooped Grogu into his arms and turned away without another word. She huffed. Was he just going to walk away without a word? She opened her mouth to insult him, but Grogu’s high-pitched noises stopped her. The Mandalorian stopped as well, keeping his back to her but turning his head to the side.

“Thank you…for looking out for him.”

She called out to his retreating form, her arms crossed tight across her chest. “You’re welcome.”

“Mudscuffer.” she added under her breath.

Din walked away with Grogu babbling in his arms, reaching back toward Talia. Din shook his head, a strange feeling in his chest. Something about that girl intrigued him. Maybe it was how sweet she was with Grogu. Perhaps it was the way she called him a Mudscuffer when she thought he couldn’t hear. She had spunk, and he found himself wanting to see her again.

Halfway through the bazaar, she realized her mistake. The shopkeeper offered his son to carry the packages home for her, but she refused, her pride overruling common sense. She’d been saving for months to buy this easel and canvases, and she didn’t want another set of hands all over it. Besides, she’d made it this long on her own, and she could do this too.

“Dank Farrik!”  she groaned, adjusting the packages in her hands, determined to make it back home without dropping them.

Din watched her from a distance as she struggled, silently chuckling to himself. She was a stubborn one, too damn prideful to ask for help. His heart stirred at the sight.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

Taking the packages into his arms with little effort, he looked down at her, his helmet hiding his smirk.

She stared at him, opening her mouth to speak then closing it again. She hadn’t expected to see him again, although he had managed to find a way into her thoughts over the last few days.

 Before she could speak, Grogu took the opportunity to jump into her arms.

“Hello, little friend.” She laughed as she booped his nose.

“Which way?” he asked. The glint of his armor caught her eye as he shifted his weight.

“Oh, uh…. this way.” Her hand jutted out in the direction of her place.

An awkward silence fell over them like a heavy fog as they walked toward her house, neither one willing to break the tension. His boots softly scuffed the dirt in a steady rhythm, lulling her into a strange sense of comfortability.

“Do you have a name?” Her voice cut through the silence. “Or should I just call you Mando?”

One of his shoulders raised slightly.

“I figured you’d just call me Mudscuffer.” His chuckle was like a soft whisper through the modulator.

She swallowed hard and fixed her eyes on the road. She couldn’t believe he’d heard her say that. She thought he was out of earshot when she let that slip.

“My name is Din.”  

“Talia,” she offered before he even had a chance to ask. His head turned slightly toward her, giving her an almost imperceptible nod.

He sat the package down in her living room and straightened, admiring the small space. It was sparsely decorated but cozy—like a home. A worn bookshelf stood tall in the corner, filled with books and a few small trinkets. He wondered what sort of books lined those shelves and if she imagined herself in those worlds as she read them.

She watched him standing in her living room, the sun beaming in and reflecting off his Beskar armor. She found herself wanting to know more about him…. anything about him, really.

“Thanks for your help.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. Grogu shuffled around on the floor, fascinated by the space.  His coos filled the air, punctuating the uneasiness between them.

“You’re welcome.”

She opened her packages and set up her easel by the window, adjusting it a few times to find the perfect angle to catch the light. The canvases were stacked neatly into the corner under the small shelving holding a small assortment of paints and brushes.

“You paint?”

Din could almost imagine her sitting by this window; tiny speckles of paint freckled across her cheek, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked. The sunlight streaming down, illuminating her golden locks, would have been breathtaking.

“I’m getting back into it again. I had to save for a while before I could afford a new easel and a few pieces of canvas.”

He quietly cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to talking to people. He couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual conversation with someone. Talking to her was…nice. His cheeks flushed under his armor, and he was grateful she couldn’t see his face. He was a bounty hunter and a trained warrior, not some little boy with a crush.

“Would you and Grogu like to stay and have dinner with me? It’d be nice to have some company for a change.” Her cheeks burned with heat as she asked the question. Her heartbeat quickened with every moment he was silent.

“Thank you for the offer, but Grogu and I should be going.”  He didn’t know how to explain to her that his creed forbade him from revealing his face to anyone but his riduur. That was a conversation for another time. He’d broken that vow once and endured too much to redeem himself to risk it again.

Her chin briefly tilted toward the floor before she returned her gaze to his helmet with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

 “Sure…. maybe another time.”

His chest tightened as he collected Grogu. This feeling was strange to him—this feeling of wanting to connect with someone. He’d spent his whole life without any real attachment to anyone until Grogu. Now, he found himself wanting to be in her presence, wanting something with her that he always longed for but denied himself: a friend…and maybe something more.

Without thinking, he stopped in the doorway and turned back to her.

“Our home is just outside the city. If you’re ever interested, there’s plenty of good lighting and landscape to paint.”

The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

“I’m sure Grogu would like it if you came to visit sometime when you’re free. He seems to like you.”

Her smile could have lit up the deepest mines of Mandalore. This mysterious stranger had her completely captivated. She’d realized how much she missed having someone to just be with… someone to fill that void of loneliness she tried to ignore for so long.

“I’d like to visit Grogu sometime, too.”

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Four on AO3

Contents

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Note: a lot of this chapter is texting which I struggled to format on Tumblr's goddawful limited HTML. I've opted to display them as chats, but because Reader chapters are second person, I didn't want John's texts to appear as if they are coming from 'you.' So apparently he has himself saved on his phone as 'Price.' Bear with me. Do definitely recommend reading on AO3, it just looks a little better. okay anyway, hope you enjoy!

Unknown Number

Unknown number: Good morning. Thanks for last night, I had a lot of fun!

Unknown number: Also, wanted to ask, as a seasonal local and therefore, I assume, an expert in local fauna, would you say this bear is insanely big or is that normal?

John smirks at the attached photo of himself, docile and friendly as he stares blankly back at the camera; big stupid animal eyes deceptively sweet. It had been hard to behave in that form, but it had been a cold night and he'd wanted to be sure she wasn't frozen stiff in her pathetic little den. He was coming to hate that thing, simultaneously teasing him with its threateningly mobile nature and infuriatingly abysmal quality. He wanted to bring her back to his own den, bury her in thick, warm blankets. Maybe tie her to the posts so he could sleep easy knowing she wasn't going to slip away the moment he closed his eyes. But he couldn't (yet), so he stalks her in his animal form and tells himself it's for her own good and he's satisfied with that.

But now.

Now.

John's eyes shift around the small distillery office, as if he somehow missed Simon lurking behind the door (he may have. Silent as the grave, that one) before he gives into the urge to tap the number at the top of his screen, letting his touch linger as he adds the contact. Even this - even just this - makes his tongue feel heavy in his mouth, his palms big and clumsy. He wants to lick his phone, is pissed when he can't smell her. It feels like snuffling for mushrooms and finding only arid dust and dirt. It is so much more than he had even just an hour ago, but it is not enough.

Bunny: Also is it normal that it just chilled in the parking lot all morning, or should I maybe be worried it's rabid?

Price: Never seen a grizzly that close before so I'm not sure, but I think that's a big one! That's awesome.

Probably not rabid. Some of them have gotten a little too comfortable with humans. Good thing you were in your car, though!

And then, because he's greedy:

Price: Hiking this morning?

Bunny: Well, not anymore 😂

John is antsy, whole body restless. He wants to shift into his other form, or maybe pull a tooth out of his head. He's not hard, but the urge to stroke his cock is there regardless, an ingrained stress relief that won't help him here, he knows. Not without her, at least.

Bunny: What are you up to today?

He wants to spend all day deciding if he likes her better as a fleshlight or a chew toy. Unfortunately…

Price: Interviews all morning and then meeting with a potential vendor later. Boring shite.

Price: You?

Bunny: Probably just reading or something. Boring shit.

He imagines her cozied up in her cute little den: soft, worn quilts and a soft, warm girl. He wants to crawl in with her, change the chemical makeup of the very air until she has to breath him in, too; let her deal with the torture of his scent same as he's done for her. His fingers are heavy on his screen again. He hopes she's kept his coaster. He hopes he's tainting her phone. He hopes the aggression with which he's digging his big greedy claws into her life is enough to make her stay.

Price: Sounds lovely.

Price: Trade you?

Bunny: Haha! Sure, I can definitely handle vendor meetings. No problem.

Price: Cute thing like you, I'm sure you'd be a natural.

Bunny: Well if that's all it takes, I'm sure you'll do great 😉

John can't help the happy chuff that escapes him. It's not an entirely human sound but he doesn't particularly care if Simon is lurking right this moment.

Price: Thanks, honey.

Price: What are you doing tomorrow?

Bunny: Hmm. Don't know. You tell me?

Price: Let's square up, yeah? Get you that coffee.

Price: There's a place over on Nucleus that's pretty good.

Bunny: Sounds great! What time?

Price: Early okay? I'll have to be back to work by 1400

Bunny: Sure. 10?

Price: See you then, bunny.

He finds Simon in the brewery. John held off investing in the equipment for years, refusing to tank the 141 just because Americans thought IPAs were good beers. Blessedly, the last year or so had shown people coming to their senses, ordering porters, lagers, and shandies more often than not. Simon had been elated (or rather, quite stoic but the mask had raised about a half inch on his face which meant the cheeks underneath were slightly dimpled) and had been obsessively perfecting a house ale ever since.

"Need you to take the lunch shift tomorrow." John would feel bad for the last minute schedule change if it were anyone else, but Simon doesn't really have a life outside of work or the gym, so he can deal.

As predicted, Simon just nods in acceptance. "Coffee?"

"Affirm. Also want you to sit in on the barkeep interview."

That gets a rise. "Why?"

"Distracted," John shrugs.

Simon's sigh is a full body thing. "This better not become a normal thing."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thirteen hundred, corner booth reservation." John may take some small pleasure in the other man's grunt of acknowledgement.

***

John hires the first three interviewees on the spot. One's a wait staff vet who he's confident can handle her own on the floor. The other two are young but seem competent and need to start their careers somewhere. Between them and his returning staff, he feels confident in the floor team but with Gaz back in uni, he needs a new barkeep which could make or break their season. They'll get tourists either way, but John prides himself on being one of the few seasonal shops that attracts a fair amount of locals which he knows he owes to Gaz's amiable and experienced presence. Without him, John's anxious to pick a suitable replacement, especially if he'll be busy wooing a mate all season.

He's prescreened a fair few, but only scheduled two interviews. He's hoping he'll be able to call the other lady tonight to tell her no need. It's a dick move but he's busy. Besides, she's very professional and he's confident she'll get another position soon - she's just a little too serious for his place.

Simon comes in through the kitchen and slides into the booth ahead of schedule. John is still waiting by the entry to let the man in when he shows up. The two men nod in greeting.

"Wot's the bloke's name, then?" Simon asks after a few moments.

"John MacTavish. Said to call him Soap."

"That's stupid." A pause while Simon's fingers thud against his phone screen. "'e a Scott?"

John isn't sure how Simon can always find people's social media, given he doesn't have any of his own. "Problem?"

"Not so long as he speaks the King's. How'd you manage to find another Brit anyway?"

"At this point I think they're finding me."

As if on queue, John spots the man in question ambling down the sidewalk. He's larger than John had expected, not quite as tall as John himself but decently muscled. Sharp blue eyes and a confident, charming grin. And a fucking mohawk of all things. His first instinct, oddly, is to keep this man away from his bunny, but close on its heels is the urge to make Simon deal with this smarmy bastard every day and he can't quite fight the grin creeping onto his face as he unlocks the door for the man.

Thankfully, Soap seems to take it for a welcoming smile, which he returns brightly as he extends a hand in greeting. "Price, I assume? Good to meet ye."

"Likewise, always nice to put a face to a name." John locks the door behind them again and ushers Soap to the big booth with a practiced, 'Please, step into my office.'

Simon, predictably, does not rise to greet the interviewee, instead choosing to stare Soap down balefully without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.

"Soap, my head brewer, Simon. Simon, this is John MacTavish."

To John's surprise - and, apparently, more so to Simon's surprise (which is a whole new surprise in itself because Simon is never caught off guard) - Soap slides into the opposite booth and extends his hand to Simon in one smooth move, face the very image of 'I see what you're doing here but I'm not entertaining it so play nice.'

Simon continues to stare for a beat longer, two, before accepting Soap's hand in a singular, gruff, suitably manly shake. When they separate, Soap is grinning like an idiot as he informs Simon about his preferred nickname.

"Not calling you that."

Soap shrugs, completely unaffected. "Well, 'bout to get real confusin' in here, then," he smiles at John.

"No worries, he calls me captain."

"Only when you've earned it." Despite the words, the insult is clear enough that even Soap smirks conspiratorially, eager to be let in on the joke.

John allows some more banter. It's useful in that it draws both the other men out of their respective shells. Simon becomes ever so slightly more professional, while Soap becomes quite a bit less. It's good, though, to see him relaxed in this space. This is the side that John had wanted to see, considering this is the side the customers would be dealing with. It's a good fit, and he's already feeling confident in his choice when they move onto drink choices. He knows he's got his man when Simon nods exactly once at an answer regarding crawfish of all things.

There's more handshakes, promises to be in touch. John locks up behind Soap and turns to find Simon staring after the man. "Well?"

Simon shrugs. "'e'll do."

John nods, eyes his right hand man critically. He knows Simon well enough to spot the difference between natural and affected stoicism. "We planning on selling crawfish this year?"

Simon shrugs again. An obvious tell; the man doesn't make inefficient movements more than twice an hour. "Wanted to stump him." John waits for him to elaborate, a venture he would lose any other day but… "'e's solid."

Well. He'd hoped the Scott would rile Simon's temper, but this might be better.

"Settled, then. I'll have him start next week."

Whether or not this pleases Simon, he doesn't say, simply turns and walks back out through the kitchen. Sighing, John checks the time and is glad to find he's running right on schedule, but upset there are no text notifications. It's probably unreasonable considering she only just gave him her number this morning, but good mates check in on each other and the lack of questions about his interviews leaves him a bit bereft. Still, he follows her lead and pockets his phone without sending any prompts of his own. It's difficult to keep his human suit on whenever she's involved, but he doesn't want to scare her away so he'll behave, even if it makes him want to eat a whole beehive, stingers and all.

***

The trip out to Whitefish is easy enough. John drives the company van to look more professional, but the smell bothers him and he's slightly agitated the whole meeting. The woman doesn't seem to mind. He's fairly certain she's flirting. It would probably be in his best interest to return fire a bit, but the thought makes his stomach roll and his teeth clench. In the end it doesn't really matter. They set up a small supply and she asks if he'd be interested in them featuring one of the blends in a house special. Bourbon ginger with orange. Very basic but the blend she chooses for it isn't right and it's a struggle not to bite her head off over it. He gives his input and she accepts which appeases him, but as he's leaving she winks and asks if he'd like to stay and give the drink a taste test. The rumbling noise he makes at that is a growl, technically, but he plays it off like a groan. Which isn't much better, probably, but at least it's human.

"No thanks. Gotta make it back for the dinner rush."

"Your place, then?" She's smirking, proud of herself. She smells like cleaning supplies.

It's out before he can think about it, "Sure, if you'd like to meet the missus."

The vendor splutters, surreptitiously inspects his hand. "I - I'm so sorry, I didn't realize -."

"Unofficial," Price quickly recovers. "Still committed." Christ, they haven't even been on a date yet, he needs to get his bloody act together.

"Well. She's a very lucky woman," the vendor simpers and John tries not to snort as he collects his things. Yeah, lucky rabbit, caught in his jowls while he assesses exactly how hard he can squeeze without losing her.

Attempting a warm smile, John thanks her for her time and hurries out the door. In the van, he checks his phone and scowls when his rabbit still hasn't initiated a conversation. He can't help it this time, shoots her something about the meeting with the vendor going well but he'd still rather have traded places. He doesn't take it personally when she doesn't respond right away, and then very much does take it personally when she still hasn't responded by the time he returns to the bar. He's surprised to find it open, Simon scowling at him from behind the counter. "You're late," the man accuses and John just smirks at him.

"And you still opened on time?" Simon doesn't react. Unfortunately, the alone time seems to have done him good. Still, John tries a little harder because he's antsy and wants a rise out of someone. "Angling for a good review?"

Not even so much as a 'well someone has to care about this place.' Damn.

"You staying on in the kitchen or heading out?"

"Seen enough of this place," Simon grumbles and slips out the back.

John spends a long boring shift talking with a pair of locals about fishing. He doesn't really go fishing in this form, but he knows his fair share about where to find what fish. It's the quiet sort of night he would have savored even just a few weeks ago, but every hour that goes by without a response from his rabbit has him growing more and more restless. He's not worried about her deciding to hike even with that bear around, of course, but there are plenty of other fates that could have befallen her. Poor rabbit, alone in the woods. Even her den was a dangerous thing, prone to crashes and gas poisoning depending on how she kept it heated. Or worse, if she kept it heated. He swears to all that's holy if he ends up losing her to hypothermia even though he's big and furry and feverish and right bloody here, he's going to lose it.

It's late when she finally deigns to respond. Like, 2300 late. He can't decide if he's more relieved or annoyed so he chooses to be excited instead.

Bunny

Price: For the record, I did win over the vendor.

Price: Still wish I could've been doing boring shite like reading all day.

Bunny: I never doubted you

Bunny: Howd the interview go?

Price: Good. Got some new waitstaff. Happy with the bartender.

Price: How'd not-hiking go?

Bunny: Boring as predicted. Put a good dent in this blanket though!

She sends a photo of a beautiful crocheted blanket, the rows zigzagging in a strange psychedelic pattern which is toned down by the easy earthy tones she's chosen.

Good mate, staying warm. Now all she needs is someone to snuggle up with.

Price: You made that?

Price: That's brilliant.

Bunny: Thank you! 😁

Bunny: I'm about to go cuddle up under it though so goodnight! Glad everything went well today

Bunny: I'll see you tomorrow

Price: Sleep well honey.

Next>>

[beanibon]

Play Me

Context: reader is a performer, often singing in bars with hired bands.

TW: Mentions of stalking, reader getting harassed be sleazy patrons, Virgin!Knives (man does not know how to fuck to save his life), oral (both receiving), breeding kink, creampie, overstimulation, knife play, rough sex, marking

JuLai was as lively as ever once night fell, the streets were packed with food vendors, the occasional stall still open for browsing, and streets filled to the brim of people. It was like any other night really, except for the additional drunks that roamed a little longer.

You wouldn't have it any other way, this was the JuLai you had become accustomed to. As you walked to your gig, heels clacking against the walkway, you smiled brightly. You thrived as performer in such a busy city, drinking in the fame and fortune it brought every night.

As you rounded a familiar corner, greeting the bouncer at the 'Staff Only' entrance, you slipped inside giving friendly 'hellos' to the band. Another perk of the job was the constant chance to communicate with people, whether it be employers, patrons, or personal clients, you adored the opportunity to make new friends and employers that would hire you again.

You lingered a little longer around the pianist, engaging in an extended greeting with him as you admired the instrument. A giddy excitement bubbled inside your heart, the beautiful instrument was by far a favourite, the music carrying each performance. This bar had an especially beautiful piano, the silver laced keys glistened in the stage lights, it was a favourite among the bars who had more simple designs.

When it came to your scheduled performance, you smiled brightly as it began, looking out into the sea of bar patrons. Some you recognised, others new, yet there was one that caught your attention more than the rest.

The hooded man seemed to prefer the quieter corners of the bar, he'd never order anything, no drinks, food or anything. He'd simply sit alone, watching you from his secluded corner.

Each time you attempted to approach the man after your performances, he'd disappear. It was as if he never existed, just a shadow in a pitch black room.

Tonight you swore, that you'd finally catch him before he left, you were determined.

At the end of your last song, you draped your body over the piano, the dress you were revealing a significant portion of your legs. It seemed to have gained the attention of your mysterious admirer, who tensed at the sight, averting his gaze soon after. It was reaction you wanted, a sly smirk crawling it's way onto you face.

However what you didn't expect was the abrupt way he left, sliding the chair back, leaving without a single word to anyone. You couldn't show your disappointment, curtseying to your admiring onslaught of applause, staring at the empty space that held your mysterious man.

Exhaustion pulled at every muscle, mostly your face at this point. The constant smiling, laughing and singing made your cheeks burn, hands rubbing gently at them to relieve some of the strain.

Red heels swung from your manicured fingers, finding walking without them eased the ache in your feet. Plus it didn't mean limping all the way home, wishing you could afford some kind of massage to relieve their aches.

"Lady Y/N, what a fine specimen, say maybe you could use that mouth of yours for something other than singing." You ignored the men, use to sexual harassment at this point, normally they didn't act on anything other than the odd innuendo.

Except for tonight it appeared.

A rough hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back against a wall, your head slamming into the concrete. Heels clattered to the ground, eyes filled with uneven black dots from the impact of the collision.

"Pretensious whore, you can't get a man hard without fixing the problem. I'm gonna make you sing my name, all while I fu-"

The taste of iron filled your panting mouth, mind not computing the headless man before you as he collapsed to the ground. Screams of panic sounded all around you, but you couldn't focus on any of it, legs giving out.

Two arms captured you, hoisting you effortlessly into his arms as he carried you off, leaving behind those he slaughtered.

Pain was what woke you, groaning as your head was swarmed with an agonising headache. You slowly rose to sit up, yelping as two hands pulled you back. . . Except those hands weren't hands, they were blades.

Fear seized your heart, shaking as you remembered the men from before, legs instinctively crossed. But the blades retreated instantly upon your reaction, noticing how they whipped back like tentacles. You followed where they disappeared, noticing a hooded figure a few feet away, back turned to you as he flipped through the pages of an old book.

"You shouldn't move, something as weak as your species would only make it worse." His words stung almost, but it mostly confused you. Wasn't he human too?

Reluctantly you uncrossed your legs, wincing as you turned over. Again those blades lashed out, causing you to faceplant on the thin pillow as they pushed you down.

You mumbled something against its surface, the blades retreating again.

"What?"

"I said, you don't have to force me down so roughly, it hurts." You repeated, small droplets of blood slipped down your shoulders.

Silence.

"I apologise."

Silence returned, your fingers tapped against the bed, watching the strangers muscles flex. You didn't recognise him, but you would be lying if you didn't find him attractive.

Yet despite that, he held a familiar aura to him.

You sat up, sliding from the thin sheets as you stood, shakily as your legs protested against the action. You approached the stranger, craning your neck to get a look at his face, only for thousands of tendrils to appear. The blades clattered against each other, moving like serpents attracted to the sound of a flute, it shocked you.

"You should think twice before startling me, you may end up a pile of bleeding limbs." You swallowed nervously, yet you outstretched a hand, running it along blade filled vine.

The stranger shuddered, retracting it away from your touch, except you turned to another once you noticed the reaction. Teasing a hand along them until it run along the muscles of his back, tracing them with a feathery touch as your confidence returned.

"Who may I thank for rescuing me, surely you have a name?" You quipped, standing on your tippytoes to drape your arms around his neck.

The stranger panted, teeth grinding at your antics. He feigned irritation, yet you could recognise his flight instincts.

"May you perhaps be my mystery man? The one who watches my performances with such reserved admiration?" A grunt sounded, the book tumbling to the floor. "How can I ever repay you for your service, what is it that you wish?"

Suddenly a hand wrapped itself around your throat, squeezing as your body was hoisted in the air.

"Shut up witch! Tell me what you're doing to me? Why do you make me burn with desire!?" He yelled, throwing you roughly onto the mattress. His ears were red, eyes clouded with what you knew as lust. It was kind of adorable.

Rubbing your throat, a sweet smile graced your red stained lips, hands coming up to caress your mystery man's face. "Do you find me beautiful?"

He scoffed, averting his gaze. "Why would I find a human beautiful? You're all pathetic, disgusting creatures."

A gentle laugh.

"Then why are you hard?"

Teeth ground, as his brows knotted together in a frown. "Fix it."

"Pardon?" You teased, giggling at his pout.

"He-. . . Help me fix it," Silence. "Please."

A teasing laugh made him tense, growling as you brought him closer, sitting him besides you. Hands trailed his muscles, tracing the abs shown from the tight embrace of his suit.

"If you want me to help you, you need to do two things for me."

"What is that?"

Fingers pinched his inner thighs, earning a drawled out groan. "Firstly I need you strip, secondly I need a name to sing."

Reluctantly, the stranger peeled the suit from his body, revealing an inhuman member. Four petals opened to reveal a pointed, girthy cock with ridges underneath the tip, along with four glowing tendrils sparking around it's base.

Your eyes felt mesmerised by the sight, kneeling between his legs, tracing the alien cock as the tendrils wrapped around your finger.

"Knives."

"I'm sorry, may you please repeat that?" You asked politely, looking at him.

"Knives, don't make me repeat myself another time." He scoffed.

"Knives, such a handsome name." The name on your tongue sent a shiver up his spine, cock twitching.

Before Knives could say anything, you placed a kiss against his cock, leaving a red stain from your lipstick. The sight of it had Knives biting his lips, containing the disgusting sounds threatening to spill from them. But you were relentless, leaving red lipstick all along his pulsating cock.

Eventually you kissed the tip, mixing the red pigment with his leaking precum. Then you took his cock, tongue circling his tip.

Knives grunted, whimpering pathetically against his hand. You felt so perfect, the way your throat opened around his cock, bobbing your head as you sucked him off. It was heavenly, especially seeing your lipstick smear against the base of his dick.

What was embarrassing was how quickly he came, filling your cheeks with what tasted like nectar, you couldn't resist swallowing. And that's what drove Knives to the breaking point, pulling you up to smash his lips against yours.

"Someone's needy," You smiled against his lips, feeling the scowl form on his once gentle features. "Do I get the pleasure of knowing what my handsome Knives is?"

"No, you will eventually but I dont care for explaining right now." Knives teeth grazed your shoulder, peeling the red spaghetti strip from your shoulder.

"Eventually? Does that imply you want to keep me around?" You heard a groan, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck, causing you to yelp.

Knives wanted to engage in intercourse, to impregnate you with his seed. But there one problem, that being he's never had sex before.

Why would he when his primary goal was to free his brethen? That was until your sirens song dragged him from his goal, capturing his heart as you lured him to you.

Now he could fuck you, to pump you full with his seed until you were ready to burst. The very thought had Knives clawing your dress from your body, breasts bouncing slightly at the freedom of their restraints.

"What's the matter? Never seen a woman before?" Knives growled, slamming your body against the bed.

"Don't tease me woman, I don't have the patience." Knives hovered over you, knees spreading your legs open as he stared at your clothed cunt. It was evident he didn't know what to do, shifting his weight from side to side. "What do I do?"

A patient smile was all you gave him, pulling the panties off, revealing your dripping cunt to cold atmosphere. The sight had Knives licking his lips, head tilted as he awaited your instructions.

"Like I did with you, you can use your mouth to prepare me," You pointed to your pussy, slightly spreading it open before pointing at the clit. "This is important, you want to stimulate it while you eat me out, think you can manage?"

The platinum blonde nodded stiffly, leaning down to drag his tongue over your dripping flaps, suckling at your clit. The action had you bucking, fingers buried in his soft locks as he was desperately tugged deeper. Without anytime to comprehend, Knives stuffed two fingers in you, sinking them down to the knuckle as he gently nibbled your clit, smirking as your thighs quivered. His fingers felt so soft inside you, despite how they curled so roughly, plowing into your pussy with force and inexperience.

Knives was grunting against your swollen clit, moaning lowly into you. The sound was pure bliss, and you couldn't help but shower him in sweet praises. From calling him a 'good boy', to 'my angel', you could tell Knives was getting desperate by the way his nails dug into your thighs. Fingers thrusted faster, needing you to hurry up and cum so he could fuck you into the sheets, mold his body with yours to imprint you to him.

You cried out his name, spasming around his digits as you orgasmed, cum dripping off his chin. His tongue savoured the taste of you, chuckling to himself.

"You make quite a mess, don't you?" The teasing in his tone caused you to huff, squeezing his head between your thighs. Knives gave you a fanged grin, sinking his teeth into your thighs, a bladed hand running along its soft flesh.

The hairs raised along your neck, goosebumps forming on your arms. The cool touch of the blade had your body going into fight or flight, yet there was something oddly arousing about having those soft hands trail such a deadly weapon over your supple skin. Or the way those tendrils wrapped around your body, their blades pressing against you, not hard enough to pierce through but enough to know they could. It had you reeling, loving how such a dangerous man could be so gentle despite his threatening aura.

Concealed inside those deadly blades, Knives loomed over you, trapping you within his arms. Hovering his cock over your entrance, he quirked a brow your way, silently asking if this was what he was suppose to do.

It still humoured you the way he was so unsure, giggling at the way his lip jutted out in pout, or how his brows furrowed in such concentration. None of this was natural for Knives, and it showed in every small detail.

"Relax, sex isn't suppose to be a chore," You brought his eyes to you, Knives leaning into your touch. "Take it slow, savour every moment."

Knives frowned, that's the last thing he wanted, taking it agonisingly slow that is. Of course he'd savour the moment, but he wanted you fucked until you couldn't form a coherent sentence, dribbling out malformed versions of his name. Being soft was something his humanity loving brother would do, Knives hated the thought, he needed you to be claimed, mated to him.

Hesitation no longer present, Knives surged forward earning a startled gasp from your lips, the lipstick smudged beautifully across them. He didn't even allow your body to adjust to the foreign cock, ruthlessly pounding into.

The Independent didn't care who heard you, in fact he wanted his subordinates to hear you, to know you were his. It drove him to move faster, bodies pressed together as your legs were brought above your head.

"Kn-Knives! Please, slow down!" You cried out, blades prickling your skin dangerously as they wrapped tighter around you.

The only response you got was a dark chuckle and a wicked grin from the man above you, those gorgeous blue eyes filled with crazed lust. Then Knives started marking you, teeth sinking into every inch of bare skin, sucking until it turned a subtle purple.

Months of watching you, stalking you, heeding your calls and after months he finally was rewarded with the fruits of his labour. Your beautiful form beneath him, fashioning his marks like they were made for you, lips whimpering his name just like the songs you sung. If only he could fuck you in his piano room, making a song he was sure he'd never forget.

You had lost count of how many times Knives made you orgasm, arms hanging loosely around his neck, showing no signs of stopping. He may be inexperienced, sloppy even, but by the gods he had stamina and his inhuman cock only made it all the more heavenly.

By the time Knives began to falter, tiring himself, the sun had already crept above the horizon. You were a crying, drooling, blabbering mess, cum leaking from your cunt as you were stuffed over and over again. It inhuman for certain, being able to fuck you for hours without any evidence of tiring, Knives probably could've gone for longer.

Cumming one last time, Knives collapsed on you, panting heavily against your sweating skin. You looked absolutely perfect, just how he wanted you.

A shaky hand found its way into his dishevelled hair, massaging it gently. A sound akin to a purr rumbled from his throat, relaxing into your touch.

"You're perfect."

You smiled, exhaustion eating away the remainder of your strength. But you managed a few simple words, pulling your sweet admirer closing until he was nuzzled into your neck.

"And so are you, my beautiful angel."

Knives sighed at the name, it was sufficient enough, he'd allow it if you were to only called him it. Which he already knew you would.

With the last bit of his own strength, two blades protruded from his knuckles, pressed into your skin. With quick precision and a pained yelp from you, he made a mark that was sure to never disappear.

"Now you are mine forever, my darling Songbird."

A/N: sorry for the delay in finishing this! I was in-between a few things such as work, visiting my boyfriend and my grandparents and writing some new chapters for my book.

But it now complete and I'm in love with it, need some more Knives content, especially the possessive kind. Hope you all enjoy! 💜

[bepisbee]

A Mini sh date!

read on ao3

A tiny voice talked to the hero in purple from his shoulder. It was almost too soft to hear and in a different language entirely. He tilted his head towards the small black dot on his tunic and listened before nodding. He held a wood weave basket on his elbow as he went through town on the opposite side. As they went through town, actually.

Sitting on his shoulder, holding on with tiny black claws, was Shadow in a minish form. Since the town was still wary of him, they had the idea to hide him like this when it was less than two heroes to one Shadow. Less stress and stares. He looked like a tiny version of Minish Link, in black and purple. His eyes were red and blue and he was adorable. The bustling early evening was peaceful, despite the bodies and rush. It felt nice to just be apart of the crowd.

At a vendor stall Vio picked out some fruit Shadow had just requested. It was his new favorite thing since becoming a real tangible being. He had a sweet tooth like no other. Instead of dealing with him having toothaches ans scaring the local dentist with his fangs, suoer sweet fruits came in handy. He looked over the options. Mostly apples, being mid fall of course. He chose a few of those but some way overripe plums and peaches. Those had to be shipments from out of the city, since that was an odd choice for the orchards around here. He hummed and also added cherries.

“Are you sure you want those? It’s awfully ripe, won’t last the week!” The woman wasn’t being subtle in her admiration and favoritism. Vio’s eyes glinted in amusement. It wasn’t his first time being subject to the locals. Esepcially now that they had reached their late twenties.

“Aha,” he chuckled warmly, thinking of Shadow’s little fangs biting the giant soft peach. “Thank you, but yes. I’m sure it won’t even last the evening. The overripe ones are sweeter, and a favorite in the household.” He placed the goods in the basket after handing over a red and blue rupee. Shadow chirped to him a thank you.

“Oh I see! You’re so smart dear!” She handed back the change and held his hand for too long. “Have a lovely day now, and come back soon!”

“You as well,” he stepped away to find the next vendor they needed. Humming as he went over their list again.

“She was totally flirting with you,” Shadow teased. He pinched his cheek with his tiny hand. “How cute. Too bad for her! You’re mine.”

Vio smiled, but unable to answer without seeming strange in public, he gave a quiet “Mmhm.” He should stop at Pita’s, he decided. They could share a croissant and maybe get a kinstone prize.

He continued to gather their list, wordlessly greeting any Minish they saw as they went. Shadow gave a friendly wave to the ones that spotted him. 

Vio stopped for a nice conversation with Librari who was dusting the shelf outside his book house when he was returning something to the library. Shadow hopped off and helped while they chatted. He’d really made some good friends in town with the local Minish while hiding from angry townsfolk a few nights. 

Shadow climbed back up his arm and onto the shoulder spot as they left. The list was done,  but he headed in the direction of the bakery. Shadow made a questioning noise at him. He just smiled and kept going. It smelled like fresh baking bread and yeast as he opened the door. Warm delicious air hit their faces. Shadow stood up, using Vio’s collar for balance.

He bought them some treats and waved to the hard working couple as they left.

“You sneak! You said no sweets!”

“Bread doesn’t count,” Vio defends, sitting in a park under the shade of a large tree. He held out his hand for Shadow to hop onto and put him on his criss crossed knee. “I know you slept all morning and didn’t eat yet.” he put the croissant on a napkin next to him.

“Aww.” He tore off some and sat with him as a chill breeze rolled in, rattling the orange and red trees. A leaf flew by and smacked him in the tiny face. Vio’s laugh is sudden and warm. It was the best kind.

“Fuck! stupid nature.” he didn’t mean it. he crossed his arms and huffed. Vio ruffled his hair with a finger. Shadow gave him a mock glare and chomped his fingertip.

“Ow! Shit your teeth are sharp!”

Shadow cackled and climbed back up to his spot. “That's what you get!

The sun was starting to set, they really needed to start heading home. It was only around six, but mid fall could get surprisingly cold at night.

They made their way to the Castle Town entrance. Vio packed the basket goods in the horse saddle bags and secured the basket before hopping up. He took out a light scarf and wrapped it around for a bit of warmth but also for something to secure Shadow better as he horse jostled them around.

“It’s really nice out,” Shadow was snug and close enough to his ear he could properly hear him. “This was kinda like a date.”

“Mm. Yeah, duh. It is a date love.” He snorted. “It’s a bit chilly now.” He knows that's what Shadow prefers. After spending so long on a hot mountain, he started enjoying fall and winter the most. “Especially for you, tiny mouse Shadow.” he snickered.

“That’s cute tiny mouse Shadow to you!” he corrected. Vio felt the poke of his tiny claw on his neck. “Annnd don’t you forget it.”

“Haha, of course.” he brought a hand up and felt Shadow grab onto his finger and playfully bite again. “Ow! haha hey! You’re more of a cat than a mouse honestly.” He scolded but kept it there for their sort of hand hold. It was also an assurance he wasn’t falling off from the movement, it was another hour to get home after all. The dark grew around them as a peaceful night rolled over. The lantern on his hip and the crescent moon their only light as they entered the forest path.

They had taken it enough times though, and had no problems. Soon enough they emerged to their shared house, lights on a muffled talking.  They were home.

[lilliaace]

Live PRIDE LGBTQ Advice

This post is intended for people who are brand new to the LGBTQ Live PRIDE events. I've been to a handful of live events in person of various sizes in different USA states.

"I am nervous around large crowds!" If you are uneasy around crowded events, I strongly recommend looking up "lgbtq pride events" on Google or join local LGBTQ groups on Facebook. Meetup.com is hit or miss. You can find smaller, local LGBTQ live events that often have fairly low density crowd events (It's often just basically an outdoor artist alley/vendor with maybe 1-2 live music).

"I am worried about safety." Generally speaking, well run events have a handful of staff floating about the event, will have a handful of cops around the perimeter of the event, and/or 'worst' case scenario, approach a tent and tell them about what and/or who is making you nervous. The cops WILL NOT bother you unless you give them a reason to (throwing punches at people, being drunk and causing problems, purposefully being creepy around people, etc.).

"What about counter protestors?" If you see church related anti-LGBTQ crowds gathered, you can frankly just stay away from them. They lose their confidence when you have a crowd of people around you willing to throw hands for you. I know some people will purposefully taunt them via finding someone and kissing them right in front and similar. DO NOT physically attack them. MANY of them wear some kind of recording device so they can then turn around and sue you to get money (even though common sense says they provoked the attack).

"What do I bring to these events?" Aside from fashionable LGBTQ accessories, clothing, flags, etc. I recommend a small backpack or over the shoulder bag to bring at least....

1-2 bottles of water, snacks (food and drink tends to be more expensive at these events)

a first aid kit (wound dressing like bandaids and wraps, antiseptic wipes and/or alcohol wipes, glow sticks if it gets dark, tournaquit scissors, non-latex gloves if you don't want to buy a pre-made kits)

1-2 extra shirts and/or pants (get these cheap at a second hand store if you don't have extra shirts you're okay with getting dirty)

narcan (if possible, it's to help any overdose cases you might happen upon)

A handful of those blue single use masks in case people come up to you and ask for a mask (I've had this happen to me before)

CPR license (if you have it)

Wallet that holds all your personal ID and money (cards or physical cash)

1-2 permanent markers in case shit hits the fan to write down important phone numbers (lawyer, emergency contact, etc.)

MOST events will be relatively uneventful in regards to bad things happening, but in case something does happen, that's why I recommend these extra things (narcan, extra shirts, basic first aid kit, phone numbers of important people, etc.)

"I don't have a lot of money" That's okay! A lot of tents have free stuff you can grab (stickers, wrist bands, pins, etc.). Some tents also have "spin to win" type things. Last pride event I went to, I got a LOT of free stickers and wrist bands.

"Are they accessibility friendly?" This depends on where it is. Some events are due to low crowd density, wide sidewalks, and/or staff that's willing to help you move around. I use a walking staff to help my bad hip and haven't had an issue with getting around (wheelchair users are really dependent on the individual venue). There tends to be some sitting areas setup around the venues (benches, chairs, big lawns to sit on, etc.).

Last words - DO NOT touch and/or camera someone without their permission. This is basic respect/ethics. Many people are happy to take photos with you or video or give you a hug, BUT ASK FIRST!

[millersdjarin]

in these trying times

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: G (all audiences, but my blog is always 18+)

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags/Warnings: diabetes, hypoglycaemia, almost-fainting, protective!din, secrets, food

Masterlist & Request Info

Based on this request! ❤️

It’s reckless, and you know it. Din would be furious if he knew what you were keeping from him; you’d be furious with him if he kept something so important about his health from you. Something that, as his partner, you should definitely know.

But it’s for the best. It was hard enough for Din to open himself up to the possibility of having a partner, both romantically and in the field, and he doesn’t need a reason to worry about you, not after he’s finally gotten over his anxieties. You’ve had this for years, and it’s under control; it has been for a long time. There’s no need to worry him unnecessarily. It doesn’t get in the way or change how you work, how well you fight. 

Life has been busy. There are always people after Din; people who haven’t got the memo yet that the kid is no longer wanted by the Empire. And, on top of that, you’re working for the New Republic, and there are always jobs that need done. 

Meals get skipped. Snacks are the last thing on Din’s mind. Not on yours; you sneak ration bars to missions and munch them down whenever you get chance. 

Din catches you eating one when you’re rushing down an alleyway back towards the ship, Imperials on your heels. 

He looks at you and almost stops in his tracks, confusion evident in his body language even though you can’t see his face. “Where did you get that?” He asks. “Why are you eating it now?” 

You shove the last mouthful in your mouth and grimace at the feeling of your partially-full stomach jostling around as you run. It’s better than the feeling of a low blood sugar, but still, not exactly pleasant. A needs must, you suppose. “I’m hungry,” you say to him, like that should be enough of an excuse. 

It’s not. “We don’t have time to have a picnic right now,” Din protests gruffly. The two of you reach the end of the alleyway, and as you stop at the opening to the street, Din turns back, shoots the two Imps on your tail in two quick blasts, sending them to the floor. “We can eat later.” 

You’re five klicks from the ship. You won’t make it ’til later. He doesn’t need to know that. 

Shoving the wrapper into your pants pocket, you shoot him a confident grin. “It’s not like these Imps are making it difficult,” you say with a shrug of a shoulder, “they’re making it a picnic for us.” 

More footsteps approach from behind you. Three stormtroopers are rushing forwards, lifting their blasters. 

So, not so much of a picnic. 

But it’s fine. Din drops it; maybe because he’s too busy fighting off the enemies dropping down from the surrounding roofs to question why you felt the need for a little snack mid-fight. 

-

It happens again when you’re trying to lay low in a market town as you hunt for your target. Din is on a nearby roof, watching you through his rifle scope. You’re trying to sift through the crowd unnoticed, a piece of beige fabric covering your head, helping you blend in with the residents, when you notice your hands start to shake. 

It’s been a few hours since you last ate. There wasn’t time on the way here to stop and grab something. 

You don’t have to test your blood to know you’re getting low; you need some sugar right kriffing now or this is going to go South pretty fast. 

There are some credits in your pocket and a fruit stand across the street. Casually, you head over, reaching for the credits and handing them over as you approach the vendor. 

“What are you doing?” Din’s voice in your ear asks, doubly modulated through the comms. 

You don’t answer him; you can’t without blowing your cover. Instead you just select some produce—a handful of berries that you know are good for sudden lows, and a bottle of pure juice—and offer the vendor a friendly smile. You open the bottle straight away, take several gulps before starting on the berries, holding them out in the palm of your hand.

“Is this part of your cover?” Din asks. He knows you can’t answer him. “You’re supposed to be blending in.” 

Stop asking me fucking questions and maybe I will, you think to yourself as you drink up half the bottle of juice in ten seconds. 

“The target’s here for limited time,” Din reminds you, sounding impatient and confused as to your sudden interest in snacking in the midst of a hunt. “We have to move.” 

It’s fine, you want to tell him. I’m still headed in the right direction. 

You get the target just fine despite your close brush with a low. Din doesn’t ask you about it later. 

So, it’s never really got in the way.

Except, now it is.

Dank fucking farrik, now it is. 

Despite the fact that you’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking in extra shots or ration bars in the midst of battles, today, you haven’t had chance to stop for even a second. 

And now your vision is blurring, your head is spinning, and your legs are starting to give out beneath you. 

Right when a bunch of syndicate soldiers are closing in on both of you in the middle of a forest clearing. Right when Din needs you to be on your shit, to be there for him; right when he puts the most trust in you. 

The last thing you remember thinking before falling to your knees is that you’ve let him down. 

He calls your name from across the clearing, concern and confusion evident in his voice. There’s a mercenary headed straight for you; you can only just see through the black, blurry tunnel around your vision, can barely focus on anything other than the racing of your heart and the cold sweat beading on your forehead. Din is fighting off his own group of enemies and you can’t lift your arms, can’t reach for your blaster. You can barely hear anything, but you vaguely register the shot of a blaster headed your way, the bright shine of a Beskar-covered man diving in front of you, a blaster bolt hitting the metal with a loud clang. 

Din’s saying your name once all the bodies have dropped. There’s no more threat from enemies, but he sounds more worried than ever, breathing fast through his modulator as he pulls you into his lap. He’s asking what’s wrong, if you can hear him, if you’re hurt. 

You try to pull yourself up, but the weakness is too much. 

“Sugar,” you say breathily, feeling like your throat is shaking with your hands. “I need—food. It’s—blood sugar.” 

“What?” Din questions, sounding more confused. He presses something on his vambrace, then holds it up to scan your body. Something shines red on your vitals. “I don’t—we don’t have any rations. The ship is a few klicks away, can you walk—?” 

You shake your head. “I—I need it faster, if we walk back…”

Din’s concern is only growing as he nods with understanding. He puts his arm under your leg, the other around your back, and lifts you up. “Can you hold on?” 

“I’m—” Lifting your arms around his neck, you manage to grasp your hands together over his back, just barely hanging on with trembling fingers. “So weak, Din…” 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m gonna fly us back, just hold on as much as you can.” 

You’re too tired and breathless to respond. All you can do is hold on and close your weak eyes as Din’s jetpack activates and the two of you are lifting off the ground and into the sky. 

He gets you back to the ship in a minute. The weakness is going to your very core, down to your bones, and it’s been a long fucking time since you’ve had a low this bad. But, then again, it’s been a long time since you’ve gone without food for this long, too.

“Fast sugar,” Din says as he hands you a bar of chocolate and pours a packet of juice into a glass. You reach out for them, but your hands are shaking so much that it’s hard to hold the glass without the juice just spilling everywhere. “Here,” Din offers, lifting the glass up to your mouth and helping you take a sip. Once you’ve had a little, he puts it down and gets to work breaking the chocolate into little bite-sized pieces. 

“Under my bunk, I’ve got a blood sugar monitor,” you tell him after your fifth piece. “In my medpack.” The symptoms aren’t fading yet, but it’s not usually long until you start to feel the sugar kick in. 

Din hesitates, probably confused as to why you have that, but then he nods and heads off into your bunk, leaving you with the chocolate and juice. 

You manage to finish the rest of it alone. The shaking is subsiding slowly but surely, the sensation of chocolate in your mouth distracting you for a little while. 

He’s back in a few minutes carrying your medpack. It’s got your meds and your monitor; you fish them both out and prick your finger immediately. Sure enough, it’s dangerously low. There’s a timer on the side of it, so you set it for ten minutes, making sure you don’t forget to test it again. 

Din just stands there, watching. You tip your head back against the sofa but you can feel his eyes on you, even though his visor; can picture it in your mind, him just standing there with his hands hanging at his sides, studying you as if just staring will help him to understand what’s happening. 

He’s entirely silent for ten minutes. He checks your vitals with his vambrace a few more times, but doesn’t say a word. 

The timer goes off. When you test your blood again, it’s back to safe levels, and you breathe a sigh of relief. As always after a low, you feel fucking exhausted and washed-out, and definitely need a proper meal as soon as possible. But you don’t feel like you’re about to pass out any second anymore, so there’s that. 

The next sigh that you let out is one of nerves. You breathe in deep, bracing yourself to look back at Din and face the inevitable questions. 

When your eyes meet his visor, your stomach twists a little in guilt. “I can explain,” you say, not needing to see his face to know that he’s probably raising an expectant eyebrow at you. 

“How do you feel?” He asks instead of What the fuck?

You swallow heavily. “Better,” you say. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?”

“For…making you finish the mission alone. For being a useless partner.” 

“That’s what you’re sorry about?” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, swallowing yet again in the hopes it will dampen some of the guilt rising up your throat. (It doesn’t). You put the mission in severe jeopardy; you put the both of you in danger. Din trusted you to be his partner, to get the mission done effectively, to not almost die in the middle of it. And you let him down. “Well…yeah,” you answer, like it should be obvious. “I let you down. I was a bad partner.” 

“Yes, you were.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I’ll be more helpful—”

“You weren’t a bad partner because you almost passed out,” Din interrupts you. He doesn’t sound angry, which you make note of and let calm your nerves. “You were a bad partner because you didn’t tell me about…this,” he gestures to your med kit, your machines and your medicines. 

Oh. Right. 

Of course he’s upset you kept this from him. 

He sighs. Stepping closer, he sits beside you on the couch, leaving just inches between you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is softer than you’d expected; not a trace of accusation or anger. Just…concern. Disappointment.

You can’t look at him. “I didn’t want you to worry. Or…to think that I couldn’t do my job.” 

“I am always going to worry about you, Riduur,” he says. 

“Exactly. I didn’t want to give you another reason to worry.” 

“Is this why you’ve been stopping mid-mission to eat so often?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“I just thought…” he fades off, then shrugs. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe I should have asked.” He sounds thoughtful. You shake your head in response. Then, he turns to look at you, and asks, “How long have you…been sick?” 

“I got diagnosed with diabetes when I was nineteen. I’ve had it a long time now. And I’m usually much better at controlling it than this, but I…we’ve been so busy.” 

Din sighs softly and hangs his head. His hands clench into fists on his lap. “I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes snap up to look at him. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have let you neglect your health.” 

“You had no idea,” you assure him, putting a hand on the armour over his thigh. “I’m the one who kept this from you. How were you supposed to know?” 

“With or without diabetes, I should be taking better care of you.” 

“No, that’s not the lesson we’re taking away from this.” 

He looks at you again. The black T of his visor is emotionless, but you can imagine the quirk of his eyebrow. “It’s not?” 

“No,” you almost laugh, because how is he suddenly making this his fault? 

“Then what is?”

“That I should’ve told you. That I put us in danger by not letting you know something that could’ve affected the mission. Something that could’ve…hurt us.” 

He stares at you. Unmoving, unreadable. 

“Did you make me say the lesson out loud on purpose by pretending you feel guilty?” You ask him.

“No,” he replies, deadpan, “I’d never.” 

“You would.” 

“I didn’t,” he says, this time with a slight smile in his voice. He reaches out, takes your hand. “I meant it when I said I should have noticed.” 

“I was actively hiding it,” you say. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault.” 

“You should have told me,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly. “But now that I know, we can make sure this never happens again.” 

“I’ll just be more careful, and always bring a snack, even if I think we’re not going to be out for long.” 

He squeezes your hand, still looking at you through the visor. “Will you tell me about it?” He asks earnestly. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“What you need, what to look out for,” he answers. “How you manage it. I want to make sure you’re safe. That at least one of us can be taking proper care of you.” 

Your heart swells with a sudden bloom of warmth. This isn’t how you expected this to go down: you thought he’d be angry with you for not telling him, and even more angry for almost ruining the mission. 

But, in hindsight, you should’ve known better. Better than to keep this from him, and better than to expect that kind of reaction. 

This is Din. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be safe. Any secret that you’ve told him has always been met with kindness, understanding. Even when you’ve kept it from him for a while. 

“What?” Din asks into the silence that you hadn’t even realised you’d created. You’re just staring at him, warmth in your chest and adoration in your eyes. 

You shake your head. “Nothing,” you say, finding your voice a little choked with tears in your throat, “just. I love you.” 

He softens. Leans in, presses the beskar over his forehead to yours. “I love you too, Cyar’ika.” 

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.” 

“I know. It’s alright. But please tell me how we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“I will,” you promise, pushing your nose into his helmet for a second before pulling away, giving him a sheepish smile. “But first, I need a proper meal.” 

notes: finally getting to one of yall's requests! i've been so busy but thank you for your patience, and thank you to this anon for this request. as a fellow diabetic, i can relate, and i would want din there for a low if i had to have one, lmao.

hope you enjoyed! reblogs & comments so so appreciated if you can ❤️

din taglist: @brokenghostgirl1 @astronymity

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market! 2. - Wager

Farmers Market! Joel Miller x Confident! Plus Sized F! Florist Reader

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist

Series Summary: What does a Contractor do in his spare time? Sell his wood carvings at the Saturday Farmers Market, of course! A Grumpy x Sunshine Joel Miller series collective of one shots, Updates every Saturday!

Rating: M

Warnings: Jealous! Joel Miller, Tommy is a meddling little shit, Reader likes to ogle her too-hot market neighbor (I mean, who wouldn't?!) no outbreak! Verse Joel Miller, Friendly wagers between vendors

Summary: When it's a slow day at the market, Tommy suggests a wager between Joel and Sunflower. Which of our two idiots makes a move first?

A/N: Another day in the life of Joel and Sunflower a few days early? YES PLEASE! Hope y'all enjoy!

This story takes place before the events of Pt. 1 - Jealousy, Jealousy.

Banner & Dividers by @saradika

"It's been real quiet today. How are you holding up, Miller?" you ask, your voice laced with genuine concern.

"Not great," he grumbles, his frustration almost tangible.

You gaze at your table of carefully arranged flowers, a hint of disappointment flickering across your face. "I was hoping to have sold at least half of these by now," you admit, absently tweaking a vase.

A scoff echoes from across the way. "That's a tad optimistic," he teases with a playful smirk.

You shoot back with a playful glare, your eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, like you're doing any better, Miller. I don't see your woodland critters flying off your table this morning."

Joel grumbles, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Well, they do eventually find their way home," he drawls, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "Today's just not our lucky day, that's all."

You can't help but laugh, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Right, keep telling yourself that, Miller. Maybe the critters need a bit more of your southern charm today."

"Right, it's not like you use your…" he gives you a pointed look, "assets to give you a leg up in sales," he replies, a playful glint in his eye. "I haven't seen someone wink so damn much at the farmers' market."

You roll your eyes dramatically, unable to suppress a teasing grin. "Oh, please, Miller. A little charm never hurt anyone. Besides, a wink here and there adds some flair to the whole flower-selling business. You should try it sometime."

He lets out a mock sigh, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "I'll leave the winking to you, flower whisperer. Maybe those woodland critters need a secret handshake."

You both share a laugh, the tension from the slow day momentarily forgotten as the playful banter lightens the mood in the market.

"Well, well, well," Tommy suddenly interjects, breaking through the tension as he puts his arm around your shoulders, casting a mischievous grin at his brother. "Seems like today's been a bit lackluster, huh? Sunflower's table barely made a dent, and she would have been mostly sold out by now."

You playfully nudge Tommy, a smile tugging at your lips. "Easy there, Tommy. We're all feeling the slow vibes today, aren't we?"

Joel grumbles in agreement, a hint of grumpiness in his voice. "Yeah, it's been unusually quiet. Even the critters seem to be taking a snooze on the job."

Tommy's eyes light up with an idea. "I've got it! How about a little friendly competition? A wager on who can sell out first—Sunflower's beautiful blooms or Joel's charming critters. Winner gets bragging rights and a week of free lattes on the loser!"

You exchange a knowing glance with Joel, a competitive spirit rising within you. "You're on, Tommy. Get ready to be buying those lattes," you declare, a playful determination in your voice.

Joel grumbles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You better start practicing your sales pitch, Sunflower. Those lattes are going to be mine."

As the challenge intensifies, you notice Joel maintaining his grumpy demeanor, even as he turns on his charm with the ladies passing by. A pang of jealousy tugs at your heart, but you can't help but find his attitude endearing.

Joel grumbles at Tommy's playful antics, shooting a grumpy glare at his brother. He then turns his attention back to you, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Seems like you're getting quite cozy with my brother there, Sunflower. I might have to step up my game."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you retort, "Oh please, Joel. You're the one who can't resist winking at every customer. I think you're just worried your charm might not work on everyone."

The banter continues as the friendly competition fuels a vibrant energy in the market, drawing more attention to both your stalls.

Joel grumbles playfully, a glint of competitiveness flickering in his eyes. However, as the day goes on, it becomes increasingly clear that Joel is not trying as hard as he could be. He finds himself unable to maintain his grumpy facade, particularly as he admires your dedication and passion. A sense of warmth grows inside him despite his best efforts.

As the afternoon sun begins to dip, your table starts to see more traffic, with customers drawn in by your infectious enthusiasm. Joel, on the other hand, has only managed to sell a few of his critters.

With a knowing smile, Joel arranges his remaining critters with a touch of playful annoyance, giving you an opportunity to shine. As the market comes to a close, you find your table nearly empty, a clear victory in sight.

"Congratulations, Sunflower. Looks like you've won," Joel says, offering you a genuine smile. "You deserve it. Seems like your… assets,” he motions to your unbuttoned flannel, a tease of your cleavage peeking out, you thank the stars god decided to bless you with your curves, “Really worked in your favor," he teases as he openly looks at your chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

You feel a rush of joy and relief, realizing Joel's subtle gesture. "Thank you, Joel. Your critters are amazing too, you know. We make quite the team, don't we?"

As the market comes to a close, the two of you share a quiet moment, the lingering warmth in Joel's gaze making your heart flutter with newfound hope. You notice a subtle shift in Joel's demeanor, as if he's holding onto something unsaid.

With a playful smile, you begin to pack up your remaining flowers, unable to shake off the feeling that Joel had been taking it easy on you. As you glance over at him, you raise an eyebrow and ask, "So, Joel, feeling generous today or just letting the lady have her moment of glory?"

Joel lets out a grumpy chuckle, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, Sunflower, a gentleman always knows when to let a lady shine. It's all in the spirit of chivalry, you see."

You feign a dramatic gasp, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, chivalry, huh? Well, I'll have you know, I'm not one to shy away from a fair competition. Next time, you won't be so lucky!"

Joel grins, a teasing glimmer in his gaze. "I'll be ready for you, Sunflower. No more Mr. Nice Guy. You'll have to earn that victory fair and square, just you wait."

You chuckle, a newfound lightness filling the air between you. "Oh, I'll be ready, Joel. And when I win, I expect you to be the one buying those celebratory lattes. Deal?"

Joel's grumpy laughter joins yours, the sound of it carrying a newfound sense of camaraderie and something more. "You've got yourself a deal, Sunflower. But don't be too confident. I might surprise you yet."

As the two of you pack up your stalls and the market starts to empty, Joel approaches you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Say, Sunflower, how about we celebrate your victory with a dinner at the barbecue joint in town? My treat, of course."

You can't help but grin at his invitation, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd love that, Joel. It'll be the perfect way to end this eventful day."

With a nod and a wider smile, Joel tips his hat and heads off to fetch his truck, leaving you with a fluttering heart and anticipation for the evening ahead.