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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter one: october 2019

summary: the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you: carmy, the recently promoted chef du cuisine at the best restaurant in the world, has no idea what he's in for when he accidentally spills his drink on the recently hired patissiere. (prequel to make my heart surrender)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language. eventual smut.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: dover beach part 2 - baby queen | alaska - maggie rogers | less than i do - the band camino | 2 / 14 - the band camino

a/n: i'm back back back again! this is six part series will be a snapshot of carmy x reader's relationship in nyc that span across a three year period. i'm really looking forward to writing their friendship & so much repressed sexual tension it's not even funny. this is the first story i've published without it being almost or fully written so updates will maybe be more sporadic this time.

October 2019

“i was hoping somehow we'd end up together, outside, past midnight, and smoking cigarettes. the wallpaper inside my brain is decorated with your face. i'm lonely for you only, and i'm trying to convince you that i'm something you could love.” – dover beach (pt 2)

He hates you.

You’re absolutely sure of it.

You can see it in the way his body stiffens as you walk by – in the way he hasn’t stopped sending you long, piercing glares across the kitchen – in just how bright red his face turns when you catch him doing it.

And for what? For being excellent? For being good enough to get a job after staging that one night?

Fuck that, you think to yourself.

You find Carmen Berzatto infuriating, and it begins to dawn on you that you may have had one too many gin cocktails to stomach the fact that you have to be here tonight.

Here, at his promotion party.

Here, at this stupid fucking bar that you hate.

Here, because he’s sort of everyone’s boss now… and it’s something you’re just going to have to live with.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise. There’d been talk of a leadership change (and Carmy filling the CDC position) when you had first started working here, but having a head’s up didn’t really help you now. You just hadn’t pictured having to go out for drinks to celebrate the man that seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as you. But your friend Liz, one of the chef de parties at the restaurant, had insisted you come with, since she hadn’t wanted to go alone. You understood why you both had to go, so you’d invited your other best friend to help the both of you get through.

You thank your lucky stars that your direct report is the head pastry chef and not Carmy. Using your boss as a buffer, you had used every excuse in the book to avoid interacting with him.

Sure, he was brilliant.

Sure, he was a wunderkind who had just gotten back from a three month stage at noma right before he was hired here.

Sure, he was kind of a total asshole.

“Fuck that, man! C’mon. Just one shot. It’s your big night, motherfucker!” Nate calls out, practically shoving a shot into Carmy’s hand.

“Oh, I- uh, I’m good, man,” Carmy stutters, trying to find an excuse not to take the shot.

Truthfully, he hates shots… and he’s not much of a vodka drinker either.

He’s just not in the mood to get hammered either, his thoughts consumed with tomorrow, his first day as chef du cuisine, going perfectly.

You watch the uncomfortable interaction, almost feeling bad for the guy. Nate and the most recently promoted sous, Tim, are trying their best to corral Carmy into taking the shot as you walk by. You can see the uncomfortable look on Carmy’s face as he declines Nate’s offer for a second time.

In fact, he seems like a different person tonight. He’s… boyishly awkward, almost, and you wonder if he’s maybe not so great in social situations. As you pass by, drink in hand, you hear a cacophony of sound. Carmy’s trying his best to dodge his friends’ next attempt, and before you know it, Nate’s practically pushing him towards Tim, sending Carmy backwards, tumbling right into you.

You feel the wet liquid of your gin and tonic, along with the shot of vodka that’s flown out of Carmy’s hand spill all over your shirt. The shot glass shatters as it hits the floor, and the sobering feeling of ice cold liquid soaking through your shirt causes you to shriek.

“Shit! What the fuck, Carmy!” you yell, angrily, as you push him off of you.

At this point, you could care less that he’s everyone’s new boss, and the drama of it all has caught the attention of almost all of the other restaurant staff that have come out tonight. Your friends rush towards you, searching for as many napkins as they can grab.

“Fffffuck,” is all he says back and you can’t believe he’s yelling at you right now. You watch as his face changes quickly, from angry, to thoroughly shocked as he begins to stammer through an apology.

“I-. I’m sorry I-. I didn’t mean to-.”

He scrambles to help you, with one cocktail napkin as you push him away, your friends rushing to your side.

“No! I don’t want your help,” you grit through a clenched jaw.

“Shit, your shirt is ruined… C’mon,” Liz says, as she ushers you away shooting a glare in Carmy’s direction.

“Damn, man. You could just ask her out,” you can hear Nate say, even though you’re too preoccupied with examining the damage of your totally soaked through t-shirt.

So much for a chill evening.

“Oh shut up, Nate,” Maya snaps at the sous. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You nod, following her as she leads you away towards the bathroom.

Back at the bar, Liz is trying her best to remedy the situation, trying her best to clean up the mess you left behind. She watches Carmy closely, trying to figure out whether she’s going to pay for this tomorrow. But instead of being angry, he just seems embarrassed… remorseful, even. There’s a small part of her that feels bad for the guy as it becomes clearer that he may just not be great in social situations.

As soon as you get to the single-room bathroom, you're swearing loudly and stripping off your shirt. It’s completely see through and you know you’re going to smell like a distillery until you can get home to shower.

“I told you. He hates me,” you pout, examining your reflection in the mirror, a scowl glued to your face. You dap a few dry paper towels across your chest.

“I think it was just an accident, sweetie,” Maya says, sympathetically, as she tries her best to console you.

“Yeah, I know,” you admit in defeat.

As much as you’d like to blame this on him, you know it wasn’t his fault.

“Sorry I asked you to come tonight. If I knew it would be this much drama-,” you begin, before being promptly cut off.

“Oh no, I’m all here for this drama,” she laughs, causing you to shake your head and lighten up a little about the situation.

As angry as you’d like to be with Carmy, you know that the truth of the matter is that he hadn’t meant to spill his drink all over you. You should be mad at Nate and Tim… but it just feels easier to be mad at Carmy considering.

“Incoming!” you hear a voice say as Liz arrives. In her hands, she holds what looks like a white t-shirt, neatly folded up, that she hands to you. “Anyone in need of dry clothes?”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief, glady taking it.

“Good on you for having an extra,” Maya says.

“Well, it’s a restaurant. You never know when you’re gonna need a change of clothes,” Liz shrugs, a glimmer in her eyes that Maya notices, as she says it. You find it a little strange that she seems to be watching you for a reaction, but you brush off the look she sends you, as you slide the dry t-shirt over your head.

The t-shirt isn’t much bigger than an oversized fit you’d buy for yourself – which makes sense because Liz is a bit taller than you. The cotton fabric hangs loosely over your form as your eyes flicker over to your completely soaked through shirt that lays crumpled up on the bathroom sink.

“Well, ladies. We did our best,” you resign yourself, as you notice your still-very-wet bra begin soaking through the white t-shirt.

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can get some more paper towels. Or uh.. See if the kitchen has a towel we can use,” Liz says, nodding her head towards the door.

“We’ll be right back,” Maya reassures you, empathy in her eyes.

You watch as Liz follows her, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for the door to the bathroom to swing open again, which surprises you. You gasp as soon as you see who's come through the door, and you’re crossing your arms over your chest which may only make the wet bra, white t-shirt ordeal even worse. A very flustered Carmy stands in the doorway, his mouth hanging open as if he hadn’t expected you to be in here.

“There’s uh… someone in here,” you scoff, unable to hide the irritation in the sound of your voice. You hug your arms closer to yourself, almost as if to cover yourself up.

“No I-, yeah, I know I just-,” he stammers, his eyes shifting to the floor. He feels like he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have, and he can feel all the blood rushing to his face, instantly regretting his decision not to knock first.

“I actually, uh… I came to apologize,” he manages to get out, his words quiet. He says it as if there’s an unintentional question mark at the end of his sentence. You can see the way he runs his eyes back and forth, trailing over the fancy floor tile, searching for the right words.

“I didn’t mean to- I just-. Sorry…”

His demeanor surprises you. At work, Carmy’s this confident, commandeering, talented chef, but tonight, he seems anything but.

Nervous. Shy. Like a fish out of water, even.

You take a breath, trying your best to relax.

You can feel some of your guard coming down as you begin to accept he really hadn’t meant to spill his drink on you. But you’re not eager to forget the fact that he’s been kind of an asshole to you since you started working here. Unsure of how to respond, you give literal effort to replying with a:

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

He knows you don’t mean it.

In fact, he can hear how painful it is for you to get out those words.

You wait for him to leave, but Carmy continues to stand in the bathroom with you, awkwardly. But he doesn’t say anything, so you figure that the least you can do is deflect a little with humor.

“I’ll uh-, invoice you for the therapy session,” you say, trying to eliminate any malice in your tone so that he knows you’re joking. “Walking home in a wet shirt on the streets of NYC is gonna be… fun.”

“Oh uh…” he trails off, his face turning a darker shade of red.

“I’m kidding,” you state, searching his face for any kind of expression.

This man is impossible to read, you think to yourself.

His eyes are still glued to the floor as he begins to move, mumbling something you can’t quite hear in response to your failed joke. Carmy slides out of the denim jacket he’s wearing, before taking hold of it, extending an arm out to you.

“Sorry um-. Here,” he says nervously, and it’s the first time he’s allowed his eyes to meet yours. “You can uh-. You can wear this. For your walk home.”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

And had his eyes always been that blue?

Your face softens.

You take the jacket hesitantly, holding it in your hands. This time you mean it when you say:

“Thanks.”

“Least I could do,” he shrugs, daring to meet your eyes with his again.

You slip the jacket over your shoulders as the two of you stand a few feet apart. The air feels thick, and at this point, you’re not sure how to feel. Even though your bra has continued to soak through the white t-shirt, the way his denim jacket feels wrapped around your shoulders feels like an added layer of protection.

“After uh-. You know I-,” he stumbles through.

“Yeah. No I uh-. Thanks, again,” you repeat, cutting him off.

Might as well put the poor guy out of his misery.

“Anyways, I’ll make sure to get this back to you,” you interject, your voice much more reassuring this time.

“Yeah,” he nods.

You swear you can almost see the corner of his lips turn up, but you’ve never really seen him smile, so it’s not like you have much to compare it to. Carmy excuses himself, and you watch as he leaves, genuinely grateful for the peace offering.

The way that Carmy’s jacket hangs heavily around your shoulders makes you wonder if it’s real denim. You notice that it smells like him too: a faint scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, whatever scented laundry detergent he uses that feels familiar.

You and Carmy don’t speak again, save for a few short exchanges at work, but he’s been on your mind. Your interaction the other night had left an impression on you – albeit a strange one – and you’re not sure why you haven’t returned his jacket yet.

It’s not till a few days later that you speak again, leaving another strange impression on you. You head into the walk-in to get a few quarts of heavy cream and as you pull the door open, you find a flustered Carmy standing there. He’s got his hands on his hips and eyes glued to the floor with an exasperated look on his face as he watches the plastic storage containers he’s just thrown clamor across the floor. You gasp, shocked by the loud sounds, and Carmy knows he’s not alone.

As he turns to you with a glare on his face, you notice that Carmy’s eyes are puffy, his cheeks flushed red, and he looks sick as a dog.

His eyes are wide with embarrassment for a moment, before returning to their normal, stoic focus, hardened by a less than positive interaction with the exec chef.

“Sorry,” he mutters, uncomfortably. He gestures towards the storage containers on the floor, before running a hand through his neatly slicked back hair.

“It’s uh, you’re good, chef,” you say, trying your best to put your wall of professionalism up.

You had witnessed the demeaning encounter from the exec chef – everyone had. It had been impossible not to. He’d practically breathed down Carmy’s neck, taunting him for his lack of focus today, that he’s a little bitch for letting allergies get to him.

To say that the man was emotionally abusive would be an understatement.

You should leave – turn and go, and pretend that this never happened – that you’d seen nothing. But instead, you stay.

“You good, chef?” you ask softly, a hint of concern in your voice.

He sniffles again, the searing headache that robs him of his focus only burning brighter after what just happened.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine,” he snaps, refusing to look at you.

You wait for him to say something more, only he doesn’t. You can see he’s not feeling well and that he must be feeling worse after his metaphorical public stoning in the town square. He’s not sure what the hell it is you’re waiting for, and he just needs another fucking second to himself.

“Why are you still here?” he grits through teeth, his eyes fixed to the floor.

You open your mouth to say something, but you’re honestly not sure why you’re still in the walk-in with him either.

Maybe because you know that the exec chef is a total monster.

That he shouldn’t have talked to Carmy like that.

That you can understand why he’d be upset.

“Chef!” he says, raising his voice a little louder and flinging his hands towards the door. “Will you just-?”

You nod, a feeling of embarrassment filling your chest, as you realize he wants you to leave. You hurry out of the walk-in, closing the door behind you as you escape, your heavy cream quart containers in hand.

“You good?” Liz asks, as soon as she sees you come out of the walk-in. She’s passing by to bring a few deli containers over to the dish station.

“What?” you ask back in surprise, unaware that you look visibly shaken up.

“You look… flustered is all,” she points out.

“Oh. Yeah. I just uh-, Carmy’s in there. Throwing a fit. He just uh… snapped at me is all. But what’s new?” you reply, trying your best to shake it off.

She rolls her eyes in response, “Yeah, he can be like that. Thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to work under him.”

You let out an annoyed exhale. It’s a funny feeling – one that leaves you a little confused: one minute he’s this chivalrous guy that’s handing you his jacket to wear home and the next he’s practically tearing your head off to get out of the walk-in. You can’t quite figure him out. He’s so hot and cold, you’re not sure what to expect from him anymore.

As you and Liz are about to part ways, you remember that you have to give her back her borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” you say, calling her attention before she returns to her station.

“I have your shirt, by the way,” you say. “From the other night.”

“Oh,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Okay weird timing considering he’s being such an asshole today but uh…. Yeah. The shirt’s... not mine. I forgot to tell you.”

You send her a puzzled look as she shrugs.

“I didn’t think you’d take it if I told you but… it’s Carmy’s. He pulled it out of his bag when he spilled the drink on you,” she informs, waiting to gauge your reaction.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You were so mad at him that I just figured-, it doesn't matter. He pulled it out of his bag to give to you. I think he felt really fucking bad, babe,” she interjects, revealing the truth.

Well now you’re really fucking confused.

And after your little interaction with him in the walk-in, there’s no way you’re going to bring it up to him today.

“Oh. Yeah um, got it,” you reply, feeling even more confused than when you started the day.

You show up to work the next day with the t-shirt and his jacket tucked into a canvas tote bag you plan on giving to Carmy. You’d decided to wait till you had them both, and you’re also hoping that he’s in a better mood today.

Only, Carmy’s not here today.

“Yeah, he’s out sick. Looks like those allergies turned out to be a nasty head cold,” your general manager had informed you when you’d asked about where Carmy was. “Looks like Tim’s filling in today for him.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kate” you’d replied.

Later on your mid-shift break, you’d then mustered up all the courage possible to ask if anyone had checked in on Carmy. Kate, your GM, had answered no, and had been more than happy to give you his address so that you could do so. You’re not sure why you feel like it’s the right thing to do, but between his act of kindness at the bar, and his outburst in the walk-in yesterday, you figure it wouldn’t hurt to show him a little kindness. Not that you feel like you owe him or anything.

Maybe you just want to give him his clothes back and be done with it.

Maybe you’re also deeply confused about who the hell Carmen Berzatto really is.

Maybe the mystery of it intrigues you a little more than you’d like to admit.

Dinner service flies by quickly – a string of non-stop orders helps the time go faster. Carmy’s apartment is on your way home, so it’s a no-brainer to make the trip. You stop on your way at a deli nearby, picking up a quart of matzo ball soup, before heading over to his apartment.

When you get there, you knock on the door three times, anxiety beginning to flood you.

What if he thinks this is totally creepy – that you just got his address from the general manager? What if he thinks you’re stalking him? What if he hates the fact that you’re even there in the first place?

You wonder if you should just leave the soup at the door and run as fast as you can so that, by the time he answers the door, you’re gone.

Just as you’re bending down to place the quart container down by his door, the door swings open to reveal a very congested Carmy. His curls seem wilder than normal as he looks genuinely surprised to see you crouching in the hall of his apartment.

“Hi!” you practically shout, taken off guard as you rise to your feet.

“Yo,” he says, blinking a few times to make sure he’s not dreaming. “What’s uh-, what’s going on?”

It’s weird – seeing Carmy outside of the restaurant, outside of his chef whites. His usually slicked back, out-of-his-face hair falls in the messiest most unruly curls around his face in a way that's surprisingly unkempt. He’s… almost human-like.

“This is for you,” is all you manage to say, handing him the quart container.

“Uh… thanks,” he trails off, taking it and checking out the matzo ball soup.

You’re not sure where to begin, how to explain why the hell you’re here, so you just start talking.

“I uh… your place was on the way home,” you begin. “I hope it’s okay but I got your address from Kate. I actually used to go to this deli all the time when I was a kid with my parents and I forgot that it was in your neighborhood so I just figured that I should pick something up on the way over since I heard you were sick and uh-.”

Carmy shoots you a look and he almost looks amused.

“... I’m rambling, aren’t I?” you ask, a light blush running across your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he nods, a dry laugh following.

You wait a beat, collecting yourself. You’re not sure why this is so weird, but it’s so weird.

“I came by because…” you start, digging through your canvas tote bag that’s draped across your right shoulder. “... I wanted to return these to you.”

You hold out the jacket and t-shirt folded up together to Carmy, his eyes following them.

“Liz told me that the shirt was yours too. I just-, I know we don’t always… that you don’t-, I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I know it’s kind of weird at work sometimes but… I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For these. Hence the soup,” you finally explain.

“No problem,” Carmy nods, taking them in his empty hand, before disappearing momentarily to place them somewhere inside of his apartment.

You’re only a little disappointed by his short response, yet you’re not sure you expected anything else. He returns only seconds later.

“It’s uh-, Cool jacket,” you say. You can’t tell whether you’re making small talk or just saying something out of discomfort, but it seems to pique Carmy’s interest.

“It actually reminds me of the denim jacket that John Lennon used to wear ”

“You know denim?” he asks, and you could swear that you see his eyes light up for a moment.

“No, but I know music,” you reply.

“Uh I mean. Yeah. It is…” he says, with a nod, a hint of excitement in the words that follow. “Not the actual one he wore but… it’s a 1950s selvedge Wrangler. Just like Lennon.”

So he wasn’t just a fine-dining robot.

“Wow I didn’t know you were into all that,” you say, feeling some of the tension between the two of you melt. “Denim, I mean.”

“Something I picked up from my brother, I guess,” he shrugs, shyly.

“That’s funny,” you chuckle.

“Hm?” he hums in response.

“Just… the thought of you having a brother,” you clarify, jokingly. “Thought you were like… grown in a lab at noma or something.”

And Carmy almost smiles, you think.

“Nope. Just Chicago,” he replies, enjoying the act of sharing something with you.

“Ahhh,” you sound, following it up with another small laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Enjoy the soup.”

“Yeah, uh. Thanks for this,” he says, holding up the brown bag.

“Of course,” you reply, turning to go.

But you don’t go yet, not ready to let go of the momentary connection you’ve built with Carmy

"You know it doesn’t have to be like this,” you say, turning back to him. He's staring at you, just like he does in the kitchen. It’s another long, languid look that makes you realize that maybe they haven’t been hate-glares after all.

“We don't have to do this... start over every time we see each other.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree with a nod. “I mean, I've already worn your clothes so… it’s a rather… intimate thing for us to just be strangers….”

He listens attentively.

"We could… coworkers… friends, even,” you suggest, hesitantly.

“Me and you?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by what you’ve said, or if he’s about to laugh in your face.

“If you want,” you nod in response.

He waits a beat, and you watch his facial expressions soften a little as he finally says, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You smile at him, the man you thought hated you, wants to be friends with you. You get a wicked idea, letting out a chuckle before continuing.

“Great. There’s just one thing,” you begin playfully.

You can’t help yourself.

“Hm?” he hums.

“It’s just… I haven’t made my mind up about you. So you should consider this your trial period, buddy,” you tease.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Like a stage?”

Of course it’s all kitchen-related for him.

You laugh in response, “Yeah, like a stage.”

“Heard, chef.”

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

Carmy’s never had someone joke with him so sweetly. Between his family and, well, Richie… it’s always been callous humor and insults thrown back and forth lovingly. This feels… different: lighter.

As he watches you walk away, he looks down at the deli quart container that he holds in his hand. He’s never had anyone take care of him before – not like this – someone who wasn’t Sugar or Mikey, and certainly not his Mom. Not like this. Not without asking for anything in return. He can’t seem to identify the warm feeling that rushes through him, and wonders, for a moment, if this is what it feels like to fall in love.

Not that he’s ever experienced that either.

By Saturday, he’s back to work and feeling much better (the soup definitely helps, he decides) but it’s not for another week that he musters up the courage to ask you what you’re doing between lunch and dinner service.

“Chef!” he calls out to you as you’re cleaning up your station.

“Yeah, what’s up?” you reply.

It’s not like you’ve been all buddy-buddy and friendly over the last week, but you’ve at least stopped thinking that he hates you. Sure you’ve decided to be friends, but it’s not like you’d expected wildly different behavior.

“You uh… wanna grab a cup of coffee? On the break, I mean,” he asks, his blue eyes seeming… more brilliant than you’ve ever noticed.

“I owe you one. You know. For the soup.”

You smile, “Yeah. I’d uh-, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

read: chapter two

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy #comfort and chaos

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brokebonewritings · 2 months

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Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

Navigation || Masterlist

You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown.

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you."

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me."

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

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qdbs-writes · 1 year

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May I have a slightly strange request? Raiden and Fujin's reaction to their crush suddenly saying "God save Johnny Cage" (the reader and Cage are friends and this phrase just escaped by chance and was not even intended for anyone in particular)

nonny, i promise you this is like the least strange thing i've had in my inbox lately

Fujin and Raiden React To Their Crush Saying "God Save Johnny Cage"

It was like any other day in the Sky Temple, or, as normal as the Sky Temple could be. In the last few weeks, you'd been setting up your friendly neighbourhood Shinto deities with some more modern Earthrealm technology, the latest edition being a TV. It was nothing fancy, an old Goodmans 1408 that you had lying around. The real challange was hooking it up to modern channels. After some percussive maintenance, you tune the CRT TV to a talk show featuring Johnny Cage. The storm brothers gathered behind you, enchanted by the flickering screen you had brought to life for them. The interview itself was relatively dull, with Johnny being asked about his latest movie or suspected liasions with other Hollywood actors. It was until the interviewer mentioned one of Johnny's costars, an actor who'd been publicly outed as transgender, and asked if Johnny could ever work with the 'dirty, immoral liar' again. The three of you watch as Johnny begins to shout at the interviewer, screaming that they had no right to say that about his costar. The arguement continues until Johnny punches the interviewer across the jaw, before turning to the camera crew and live audience to speak about the importance of trans rights. But he could only get a few words in before the program cuts off, with a 'We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties' message. The storm Gods share a look while you nod your head proudly. "God save Johnny Cage." you mutter. You didn't have time to think about the nuances of what you had said in front of the two Gods, but decided that it was more amusing to let them come to their own conclusions.

Fujin

Recently Fujin had been building up the courage to reveal his feelings towards you. He was sure of how he felt but painfully unsure of how to go about it. He had asked his brother, Raiden, who was little help. He had even asked other Earthrealmers, although he did his best to hide your identity as the object of his affections.

Fujin knew one thing, that if he couldn't tell you, then he absolutely couldn't tell any of your friends, what if they stepped in? What if they said something to you that gave you a bad opinion of him? What if someone stole your heart first?

There were far too many ways it could all go terribly wrong. And now he was even more confused. "God save Johnny Cage", what did those words mean? Well he knew what they meant, but why would you say them?

Fujin was a god, did you want him to save Johnny? If that were the case, Johnny didn't seem to be in any danger. If you really cared that much about Johnny, maybe it's time Fujin confessed his feelings for you before it's too late.

When the two of you are alone, Fujin will drop to his knee dramatically, "I vow to protect Johnny Cage for you, because since the day we met, I have loved you, and I will do all in my power to make you happy, even if you love another."

Fujin emotionally braces, expecting rejection, but instead hears your delighted squeals as you wrap your arms around him, saying how you love him too, pressing soft kisses to his cheek.

Raiden

For the last few months, Raiden had been delicately calculating how to best start a relationship with you. Part of that was navigating how you felt about others, and if he had any competition to worry about.

From what he had seen, your relationship with Johnny Cage was platonic at best. But Johnny was also more experienced in courting techniques and had succeeded in gaining many partners over his short, mortal lifetime.

Raiden's heart sinks at the idea that perhaps Cage's charm had reached you through the television, ensnaring you enough to make you say "God save Johnny Cage".

He knew the meaning behind that saying, he wasn't a complete fool. To ask a god to save someone was a verbal decleration of your devotion to someone, your pride in them, how you wish their lives to be long and happy.

Weren't all those things the sum of love? Those were certainly all the things Raiden wished for you. For you to suddenly feel this way towards Cage... The only explaination was the TV, clearly a cursed device that you must be protected from.

Que Raiden launching the TV over the nearest balcony when you aren't looking, if you ask where it went, Raiden will feign ignorance and instead invite you for a walk in the gardens, offering his arm for you to take.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat headcanons #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #fujin #fujin x reader #raiden #raiden x reader #qdbs writing #queuedbs #johnny cage #this long ass post is brought to you by my adhd medication

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jewishvitya · 5 months

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I just wanted to thank you so much for all of your insight and generosity with your perspective as an anti-zionist israeli, something you absolutely don't owe us but I feel immense amounts of respect and admiration for. from an American jew, it's been so valuable to know there are people like you out there, it's made everything feel much less hopeless despite all the hopelessness. I've felt very alone recently, surrounded by all the Jewish people in my life who are pro-israel and don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation and my pro-palestine gentile friends, and I've felt very alone in my grief as I've only really started to unpack and dismantle my own biases very recently. reading your posts and your perspective on everything has just made me feel very seen as a jew in this situation, especially as I try to reconcile my feelings about everything going on with my own feelings about my faith and my identity.

you've probably seen that I've gone through a lot of your posts and that I've followed you. i just want you to know that I'm not necessarily following you just for that, I know you're just a fandom blog, it's just that after looking through your posts I feel like you're just a really nice person and seeing yoi on my dash from you would be endearing coming from you even though im not into it myself.

just. thank you again for sharing your story and continuing to share. you have no idea how much it's helped me.

I'm in tears. I've been crying way more than usual over the past couple of months, but it's nice for a change to have those tears to come from being touched instead of grief. I apologize if I'm going to ramble.

You say I didn't owe you all this, but I do feel responsible. I'm watching so much destruction and seeing how comfortable people around me are with the loss of life. This is why I've been talking about what we do and not as much about the impact of October 7 on me or people I know. I did a bit of that in the beginning, but pretending it was the start of everything to keep going back to that one day, after two months of horror, as if I can't count past 7... I didn't choose to be born where I am, I didn't choose to grow up in the most extremist community this place has to offer. But since I'm here, since I'm comfortable at the expense of Palestinians and violence is being done in my name and I have the tools to highlight issues within my society, I think it's a moral obligation.

I know how I talk about things here, and that's genuinely because I don't want to minimize the severity of the racism and the nationalism in Israel. And someone perceived my words as showing hatred for Israelis. But... I love my people. I don't expect those who see or experience our violence to feel the same or even understand me, but I do. It's my neighbors and my childhood friends and my family. It's children I see playing outside and getting excited when they see I have a cat, and the random people who stop me in the street and give me directions if they think I look lost.

Even growing up in the West Bank settlements, the people were very good to me. I needed years to internalize the fact that this kindness doesn't get extended to you if you're not part of the in-group. It broke my heart. It still does. Seeing people who I know are capable of kindness and compassion, hardening themselves against the pain of other human beings. Closing their eyes and telling themselves it isn't real. It's all an act.

I told a friend I feel like I'm betraying my mom, who was deeply bigoted, but also a wonderful mother. She taught me a lot of the principles that are guiding me now - I just took down the walls she put around who deserves to be considered. She'd be horrified with seeing the things I'm saying if she was still alive. But she taught me to care about people, I just decided it means all people.

Everyone should be prioritizing Palestinian liberation, and at the same time, I care about this too. I care about the morality of my people. I need us to be better than this. I want to dismantle the nationalism that teaches us hate and violence so we can start to heal and come to terms with what we did (and still do) here. I want us to fix what we can and hold ourselves accountable. I want us to reimagine safety in a way that doesn't cause harm, and build good relationships with the rest of humanity. Every marginalized community is experiencing bigotry in interactions with every other community, that's just how these things work. But I believe healing the world, and healing my society, is possible.

And it's hard, because so much of what we learn is rooted in truth. Antisemitism is real. Millennia of persecution are real. The trauma we carry is real. If the idea of an ethnostate makes us feel safe, and the idea of losing it makes us scared, how do we differentiate between fear as a natural reaction to antisemitic violence and fear that was taught to us for the sake of nationalism? Especially those of us living in Israel, immersed in the propaganda. It doesn't matter in practice, our feelings of safety or fear don't justify an ethnostate, especially not one built on top of another nation, but it matters for the conversations I have with people.

And I said that the violence I'm seeing feels like an attack on my identity. Seeing a giant hannukiyah in Gaza, when Hannukah tells the story of occupied people fighting off their oppressors. Seeing images that echo so much of the horrors that were done to us. The Magen David being used with hate and spite. It's all so painful. And I love this land, it's the only home I've known, so seeing us destroying nature and soaking it with blood and calling that connection?

Judaism does guide me here. The concept of tikkun olam. The idea of לא עליך המלאכה לגמור ולא אתה בין חורין לבטל ממנה - doing what I can, even if what I'm able to do isn't some decisive blow that entirely turns the tide. The idea that every human being is a whole entire world, to me it means that every single person alive is worth fighting for. So no matter how much death I see, there's still worlds more to save.

And Jewitches had this post that felt just healing to read. Nationalism hijacked our culture, and it will always leave a mark for centuries into the future. But I'm not letting go, and I'm not letting that create a rift between me and thousands of years full of history I can be proud of.

I feel your grief. And I'm grateful for the anti-zionist Jews I met by talking about this, because honestly, I need you people in my life. The pain and the anger are both easier to hold together.

So, thank you for following. I might follow back, just to see you around on my feed. And thank you for sending this. Feel free to message me anytime for any reason (I promise it won't result in a lecture every time).

Also, your url gave me pjo nostalgia

#riki babbles

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someplace-darker · 7 months

Text

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum.

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover.

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.”

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway.

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away.

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him.

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.”

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle. Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes.

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man.

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in.

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out.

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist.

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words.

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability.

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder.

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw.

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle.

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door.

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow.

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words.

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”

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eggedbellies · 8 months

Note

Imagine a dating app but for people who need to lay egg(s) in someone and people who want to carry said egg(s). You can put in preferences as to whether you want to carry a clutch of eggs that gradually fill you and become so heavy that you can barely move until you lay them, or possible a dragon egg that makes you full from the beginning and only gets heavier and lower in your gravid belly.

You hear a knock at your door. That must be them, you think so yourself as you get up, trying to restrain your excitement. You had recently discovered a new dating app called Egger. It was basically Tinder but for people and creatures with niche desires and kinks. You weren't sure yet if you were one of those people yet, but it had always been a tantalizing idea to you; being pumped full of cum and a clutch of eggs. So you decided to give it a try. You had nothing else to do to pass the time this weekend, so why not?

You open the door of your apartment and see the date you'd been chatting with only an hour prior. You grin and subtly look them over, noticing a sheen of sweat across their brow, a hand low on their stomach and that their belly is noticeably bloated, nearing the edge of swollen. They greet you with a mild wince and you guide them inside immediately.

It doesn't take long before things get going between the two of you. Before you are even aware, you find yourself on all fours, hole spread wide open by your date's girthy length. You gasp as they thrust into you, increasing the pace with fervor. You feel something expand against your inner walls, preventing your date from pulling out any further. The sensation makes you moan with pleasure. Then you feel it. Some pressing against the the knot, making it even bigger on the inside. You think you can't possibly take anything wider when it breaches the knot and slides deep into your belly. You moan in delight at the feeling as more follow en suit. You lose count of how many your date has pumped into you but you can feel your belly expanding from the sheer amount of eggs inside you. You reach a hand down and rub your growing abdomen. You cum just from the sensation of being so full and your belly being swollen with eggs.

Finally the last egg is pumped into you and the knot decreases before your date pulls out. You both collapse, enervated from it all. You look at your date, whose belly is now flat. They give you a look of exhaustion but also joy. You finally look down at your swollen belly, unable to keep your hands off of it. Your date isn't able to either because as you lounge together they rub your gravid belly that seems to be growing by the minute. You feel like you started out looking only a few months pregnant, but you definitely look like you are closer to seven or eight months along now.

"How much bigger am I going to get?" You ask your date.

"It varies. Though this is the biggest clutch I've had in a while..." They say with a proud look as they continue rubbing your swollen mound. You nearly come again just from the touch. "I hope that isn't a problem."

"Tha-that's fine. I don't mind, really." And truly, you didn't. You were absolutely relishing the feeling of being so full and heavy. Your belly growing ever larger. "How long will this continue?"

"It should not be much longer."

That was only somewhat true. You lounged together for quite some time, continuing to feel your belly expand and rubbing your heavy mound. By the time you finally felt the need to lay, your belly looked overdue with twins. You came merely from seeing your swollen reflection.

You barely had to push and one by one the eggs began to slip out of your hole. The sensation was incredible as you gently pushed each one out. Although you watched as your belly slowly deflated, returning to its previous state.

At the end of it call, you and your date counted the unfertilized eggs that were now if your bathtub. Forty-seven. There had been forty-seven eggs pumped into you that grew and then you laid. Just remembering it all made you want more.

You would definitely be using this dating app again.

Thoughts, feedback, further ideas? Feel free to expand (see what I did there?) On this if you'd like 😜

This is a fucking great idea and man I love it. I'm sure you'd end up with occasionally re-meeting, maybe liking someone, and, well, it's all just a benefit that you can also end up with a heavy belly every time... I'd definitely sign up lol

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missingn000 · 1 month

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a note about tpg's hiatus

hi everyone!! i've missed y'all <33 i want to share a quick note on tpg's hiatus, and how long it will last.

first and foremost, the tl;dr: i will not abandon tpg. the story remains incredibly important to me, and this hiatus is only that: a hiatus. i will return eventually, and while i am not exactly sure when "eventually" is, i hope to begin updating again soon.

now the long explanation. tpg's hiatus has lasted much, much longer than i expected. it wasn't until i took a break that i realized how mentally and emotionally drained i was after writing 600k+ in 2 years, along with being an engineering master's student then starting a job in aerospace. especially after writing sukuna's backstory (75k+ words in one month), my brain was utterly fried. all in all, it's been a lot.

as some of you may know, i started watching one piece in september. and i love it! it's an incredibly fun, well-written feel-good series. it's been a refreshing mental break to engage with a new series, especially since jjk canon has been so disappointing in both content and writing quality.

if you check my ao3, you'll notice i took a break from jjk with other series in the past: namely dr. stone, sxf, and natsume yuujinchou. this is necessary for me to remain creative and explore narrative themes that i bring back to tpg when i return to it. but by the time my recent hiatus started, it had been well over a year since i engaged with any other series than jjk, and it was starting to take its toll on me. i'm almost caught up on one piece now, which means i'll be able to focus on tpg again soon.

when i return from tpg's hiatus, updates may be slower. releasing 15k+ word chapters every 2-4 weeks was incredibly mentally taxing and required much of my time and focus to constantly be on the story. it wasn't healthy, and other areas of my life were impacted negatively. it can be easy to forget that i'm a real person with real-life responsibilities writing this story in my spare time for free -- even i sometimes forgot this.

another note on why taking a break has been so necessary is my mental health. when season 2 released and toji + satosugu was animated, the fandom exploded and tpg's readership drastically increased. while this meant an influx of amazing love and support, i also started to receive rude and hateful comments and messages.

don't get me wrong: not everyone has to like tpg. that's totally fine! but as a very sensitive person, receiving hate took a huge toll on my mental health and motivation, and i have needed time to recover from it. i've been doing better mentally lately, and have taken some measures to reduce unkind interactions. i'm working on becoming less sensitive in the meantime so i can handle it better if/when it happens again.

since i've been feeling guilty about not posting jjk content, i haven't been on tumblr quite as much, but i'm still around online on both discord and instagram. mutuals can request my priv @chiidoriii on IG, and my discord is @MissingN000 -- just shoot me a message with who you are when you request! i'll still post fic updates on both new stories as well as tpg content and previews on tumblr, so please stick around :)

thank you so much for your patience with me! i love you all so much, and truly appreciate your support. love, chi <333

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asexual-but · 8 months

Note

Hello if you dont have a problem with it coud you write something about the reader in crepus fic being younger like a teen and another fic about the reader having mental health problems and needing medication ( I have recently been diagnosed with depression and severe anxiety its been thought)and the acolytes and parental crepus freaking out cos they don’t know what to do and then comes albeido and recreates the medicine

Abyss anon🌌

Diluc, for all the horrors he had seen, could not remember a darker day.

His father had been hidden away in the room belonging to the Divine Creator, Diluc's beloved younger sibling. For quite some time now...

The skies of Teyvat were a deep purple, shrouded with dark clouds which collected near Mondstadt most prominently. The plants were beginning to wither and the animals were all more flighty than one might expect.

The Divine Creator was in distress, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Diluc watched from the window as clouds swirled and crawled across the sky, hoping that somehow this would all end.

Crepus' heart ached.

Disheveled and more than disheartened, was his child. Creator or not, an innocent creature who did not deserve the suffering they had been through. Crepus comfortingly smoothed out their hair.

It had been a few weeks now. Sometimes their Grace hardly had energy to eat, other times they were near hysterics. Going over possibilities of doom over and over again, clinging to him as though Crepus would disappear if they let go. Two such afflictions didn't fit together, but this child suffered all the same.

After the initial confusion and excitement of getting settled in Teyvat, a small capsule was found, and The Creator scooped it up in recognition. This was medicine, meant to help them regulate their mood.

It only lasted about a week, unfortunately, as some of the greatest scientific minds were dipping their hands in, taking more and more in an attempt to understand and recreate the compound.

Chief Alchemist Albedo of the Knights of Favonius, Forest Watcher Tighnari, Second of the Fatui Harbingers, Doctor Baizhu of Bubu Pharmacy. Each and every one searching for the answer. Teyvat may not have all the same compounds, but surely their could make an equivalent.

But the process was taking a long time. Even with as great of minds as theirs, there just wasn't anything to speed along the process.

The Creator insisted that it would be fine, that they could go a little while without their meds. But a little while turned into a month, a month turned to two, and they simply couldn't hold out any longer.

Their Grace whispered an apology to Crepus, hardly noticing the shaky breath their father took before he took their hand in his.

"Don't apologize, this isn't your fault, none of this is your fault."

Albedo burst through the doors of The Angel's Share, his frazzled state an odd sight to the staff who had volunteered to keep the space clean whilst the tavern remained closed to the public. Diluc whirled to face him.

"I've done it, hurry, bring me to-" Albedo hadn't even finished his sentence before Diluc had grabbed his arm and started dragging him away. The two men running frantically towards the gates of the city. The few citizens who were out and about watching with curious gazes.

In what felt like hours of non stop running, Albedo was stood in front of the Ragnvindr Manor, it felt especially cold there. Nervously he glances at Diluc who nodded and gave him a quick shove to usher him inside. Albedo followed closely as Diluc led him to The Creator's room.

"Your Grace?" Albedo asked, hardly receiving any reaction. Crepus fixed his eyes on Albedo, and the little bundle he had in his hand.

"Your Grace, I have brought you some medicine... It should be just like the one from before. I..." Albedo found himself at a loss for words when Diluc gave him another rough shove.

He approached the bed, seeing his god bundled under the blankets with a look that could only be described as exhausted on their face. Crepus stood and went to fetch water.

Crepus leaving caught their full attention, and they sat up, watching after him. "Dad?"

The voice they called him with broke each heart in the room. Small and vulnerable. Crepus didn't want to leave their side. He didn't want them to be afraid or alone. This wasn't just his god. It was his child. His baby. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get you some water." Crepus soothed, though it took everything in him to stop his voice from wobbling with anxiety. His footsteps echoed throughout the halls as he retreated into the vast home.

Albedo hadn't ever been in the Ragnvindr Manor. He assumed it wasn't usually this dreary. Or... maybe it was considering how Diluc usually was. But the deep pit in his stomach was artificial. It was just an extension of the pain that Their Grace was in. How could one being feel anything so deeply? Albedo's mouth felt dry as he and Diluc waited in silence for Crepus to return. "Your Grace... how are you feeling?" Diluc was reluctant to ask. He knew how they were feeling, he could feel it too. It dragged at his very soul, calling him to lay in the abyss and never emerge again.

And usually, they would correct him. They didn't much like being called by such a respectful name by him or Kaeya. But when they spoke it was not to chastise him.

"Fine." They lied. They lied and it broke Diluc's heart. Did they know how much their misery was torturing him? Should they know? There weren't any words spoken as Crepus returned with the water, he guided The Creator to take the medicine. Diluc and Albedo waiting on baited breath. This had to be it. This had to fix it. And it didn't. That heavy, suffocating feeling remained. Diluc was about to turn to Albedo. Bark something or other about his incompetency. But Albedo just closed his eyes and nodded. "It will take a few weeks of consistent doses for this to clear up... but their body isn't rejecting the compound so far..." Albedo trailed off, mumbling something under his breath as Crepus and Diluc watched The Divine One closely. It was going to take some time... But Crepus was going to be there along the whole way.

I'm sorry this is so late, Abyss Anon!

#sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x you #crepus x reader #crepus ragnvindr #sagau albedo #albedo x reader #sagau diluc #sagau crepus

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ohgodnotagainn · 10 months

Text

closing time

summary → another night closing the shop at top brews

warnings → swearing, probably some typos in there, coffee shop au, everyone is like 28ish in this

length → 1.1K (a short lil guy)

pairing → robert "bob" floyd x fem reader

a/n → before you ask, yes, i did change the name of the coffee shop from "daily brews" to "top brews." nobody question me, i like this name better moving forward in this universe. i've had a hard time writing recently but i'm excited to dig down and get back into this ever expanding coffee shop au. i love, adore, and appreciate feedback, but as always, be nice or be gone. if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist let me know.

this takes place in the same universe as my other fic "girl in a coffee shop". i recommend reading that first, but it isn't necessary to understand this one.

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Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world. You heard the opening lyrics begin to fill the space as you took notice of the time - 5:57. It was a nightly tradition at Top Brews for Closing Time to carry over the speakers, acting as a little nudge to the last few stragglers.

As you slowly packed up your laptop case, you got a kick out of watching Rooster plead with old Ms. Johnson in a losing battle to get her out the door. Finally, he got her to agree to leave, but not without promising that they’d chat about her cats the following day. Offering his elbow, he helped her up and escorted her to the door - waving her off with a bright smile before locking the door.

When he turned back around his eyes found yours, “Well, well, well,” he began, clicking his tongue at you, “What do we have here? Don’t you know what time it is?”

Just as you were about to respond, Bob came walking out of the backroom lugging a bin of ice in each hand, “Leave her alone, Rooster.”

“Oh, c’mon, man! Bean knows I’m just messing around,” Rooster gestured to you, “Tell him!”

Your heart lit up at the nickname. The last six months had been a whirlwind and you finally felt like you had earned your place in the squad when you got your own silly name to match the rest of them. It was Bob who initially called you Bean, often reminiscing on the day you two finally owned up to your growing feelings and the trail of coffee beans that lead you there. It wasn’t long before the rest of the team adopted the name and you had the growing suspicion that Fanboy had forgotten your legal name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

With a laugh, you stood up and linked your arm through Rooster’s, “No need to worry this time Robby, Tweedle Dum here was only joking.” This time Bob did let out a laugh, shaking his head and beginning to dump the ice into the cooler, “Alright, alright, let’s close this son of a bitch down so we can go home.”

A satisfied grin now sat on your face, only growing wider when you saw the deep frown etching it’s way onto Rooster’s. You unlinked your arms and slapped him on the shoulder, “Oof, better luck next time! I’ll go get the mop while you get started on sweeping - I’ll help you with the lobby since I’m feeling extra nice tonight.”

As you were walking towards the backroom, you could hear Rooster grumbling, “Oh, sure, I see how it is. I can’t bully Bean but Bean can bully me?” You were tempted to turn around and continue poking the bear, but you thought better of it - the more time you wasted now, the less time you’d have later with Bob. So, you just giggled to yourself and kept on walking.

You were watching the water filling the mop bin when suddenly you were hit with all the forgotten things you still had to get done tonight. The smile that was on your face dropped off with the realization that you probably wouldn’t have time to stop by Bob’s house as you had originally planned - your to-do list filling up just as fast as the mop bin. You gripped the mop handle a little tighter with a scowl on your face.

Coming back from filling up the cooler, Bob quietly set the ice bins on top of the machine and took in your tense disposition for a moment before softly asking, “What did that mop ever do to you?” Your eyes met his, the stress slipping from your frame and your vice grip easing up. With a straight face and a blunt tone, you quipped back, “It killed my father.”

The sound of Bob laughing filled the kitchen as he set the mop aside and wrapped you in his arms, letting his chin rest on your head, “God, I love you, Bean.” It was silent between you two for a moment before he continued, “Now do you want to tell me what’s really going on? I helped your dad fix his truck this morning so I’m pretty sure this mop is innocent,” he prodded.

His heart was thrumming against your ear, reminding you that you wouldn’t be falling asleep on his chest to the same sound later that evening. Your heart sank lower as you answered quietly, “I forgot I have a bunch of laundry and other chores I need to do tonight,” with a sigh you continued, “I think I’m going to have to raincheck coming over tonight.”

Bob was silent again, his eyes fixed on the handwashing signage behind your head.

“Move in with me.”

His head didn’t move from it’s spot on yours - the nonchalance of it all catching you off guard.

You pulled back to look him in the eyes, desperate to know if he was being serious or not, “What?”

“Move in with me. Move in with me so that we don’t have to waste anymore nights doing laundry alone when we could’ve been doing it together,” he said, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ears and running his thumbs along your cheekbones.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Yeah?” he asked, his own smile growing rapidly.

“I’d love to, if you’re absolutely sure, I’d love to,” you responded, feeling more sure about the decision with every passing second.

“I’m absolutely, 100%, sure,” he continued, “In this life, I would really like doing laundry and taxes with you.” You felt butterflies swarm as you responded through a fuzzybrain, “You need to stop watching Everything Everywhere All at Once so much.“

“Not a chance,” he said, before closing the gap between you and letting his lips melt into yours.

“Bean are you going to help me with the lobby or wha- woah there! Talk about something the health inspector wouldn’t appreciate,” Rooster said as he dramatically threw his hands over his eyes and walked backwards out of the kitchen.

“I guess we better get back out there, huh?” Bob said.

“I guess we better, Mr. Boss Man,” you winked at him, “We’ll talk more about the details later - but I’m really looking forward to doing laundry and taxes with you too.” Without another word, you grabbed the mop bucket and began wheeling it out of the kitchen.

As Bob began counting down the till he couldn’t help but watch as you used the mop handle as a microphone to serenade Rooster - he didn’t even care when he lost his count. Starting from the pennies yet again, he sang under his breath, “I know who I want to take me home.”

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tags:

@wkndwlff @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @starlightstories @aviatorobsessed @accioprocrastination @shanimallina87 @waklman @roosterbruiser @mayhemmanaged @genius2050 @dempy @dakotakazansky @purplevortexx

#robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #dagger squad #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch

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americaswritings · 1 year

Text

When we fall | Part 1

Warnings (for all parts): Fluff, angst!!, description of injuries, blood, violence, use of guns, mentions of death, probably unaccurate policing/medicine

Summary: You moved to Chicago to start a new life. Working as a doctor alongside your brother Connor you make new friends and although you swore to yourself not to let any man in your life at least for a while, your promises fail when you lock eyes with a handsome stranger in a bar.

Words: 6k

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Doctor!Rhodes!reader

A/N: I just started watching Chicago PD (I'm on season 3 now) after I've been watching Fire and Med for years now. I just can't stand Voight so I only began watching for Jay and Burzek! And I am so in love with Jay. Please, this man is perfect. Just look at that handsome face!!

This is going to be a 3 part series I wrote on a whim. Originally I only planned on writing one scene, but then I figured it needed a backstory so this happened...

I have to say I am really proud how it turned out. I was just in such a flow when I wrote it that the story basically wrote itsself. I hope you enjoy and that the characters feel true to themselves :)

You had only began working at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center a few months ago, hesitant to work alongside your brother but knowing it was an opportunity, which would be stupid not to take.

Having moved to Chicago recently to be close with your brother after a messy break-up, you were still adjusting to your new life.

It was why you were more than relieved when you got along well with your co-workers, especially Natalie and her boyfriend Will.

They were understanding of your situation, were never bothered to show you where to find something at the hospital and made you feel welcome from the beginning as they invited you in on their group plans and joked like you were old friends.

Although you still felt a little uncertain at times to work with your brother, who had made himself a name as a brilliant trauma and cardiothoracic surgeon, he had been supportive since your decision to leave your old town behind and start a new life in Chicago.

Maybe, you thought, coming here had been exactly what you needed. A fresh start, a new beginning with new friends and no men to mess with your heart. At least for now.

“I told you I have sworn off men”, you sighed, shaking your head in amusement at Natalie’s try to play matchmaker. “They’re trouble. I don’t need that in my life right now.”

“Hey!” Will send you a look, though you knew he wasn’t mad. “She’s not wrong though”, April stated and Ethan next to her grinned. “I mean it though”, you said directed at Natalie. “I just want to focus on myself right now. My job. No dating for now.”

Everyone at the table nodded and you relaxed, glad you had found these people, who respected and supported you. “Cheers to that!” April raised her glass and you did the same when you noticed yours was empty.

With a groan you pushed yourself out of your seat and up, gesturing towards the bar. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone want something?” They all shook their heads, already moving onto another topic.

As you made your way over to the counter you studied the people around you, trying to determine who was a cop, a firefighter and who a regular. Right in the beginning the others had introduced you to Mollys, claiming it was Chicago’s bar where first responders spend their time after shift.

Figuring it might come in handy to memorize some faces you let your gaze drift over the sea of people, recognizing a few men that Connor had once told you worked at the CFD. They were laughing loudly, beers in hand as they seemed to be talking enthusiastically about something.

At the table next to theirs your gaze came to a hold, your eyes caught by a man you had never seen before but looked slightly familiar. Your brows furrowed as you rummaged in your head for something that connected you to him, but you couldn’t find anything.

The people who sat with him didn’t look familiar either, consisting of men and one woman with chestnut hair. Your eyes drifted back to the man, who had caught your attention, his brown hair styled neatly and his hands wrapped around a bottle of beer that he just raised to his lips.

You didn’t meant to stare, but you were mesmerized, torn between trying to determine why he looked so familiar and captured by his effortless handsomeness.

He wore a green shirt, making you think his eyes were the same shade, although it was hard to know with the distance between you.

He seemed relaxed, leant back in his seat but listening to the others conversation attentively. Having sensed someone’s eyes on him he suddenly looked up, his eyes searching the room for a split second before they fell onto you.

Your face heat up as a blush crept up your cheeks, knowing you had missed your chance to turn away. The man raised his brows slightly, in confusion just as much as amusement it seemed, before he lightly lifted his bottle, as if he was saying cheers.

You clutched your glass a little tighter, glad that it had been refilled in the time you had spent gawking at him, and copied the movement, an unstable smile on your lips. Then you turned away, meeting Stella’s gaze from the other side of the bar.

The two of you had met when she had been at the hospital for smoke inhaling a while ago and you had clicked almost instantly, connected by your determination to hold your own in a field still dominated by men. And by your past with toxic relationships as you found out later.

“What was that?”, she asked, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of her lips as her eyes flickered between you and the man behind you. A part of you wanted to ask if he was still watching you, the other longed to forget it had ever happened.

“I don’t know.” You let out a dramatic sigh. “Can we just forget it ever happened?”

Stella’s face lit up, her curls dancing around her face as she shook her head. “Yeah, you wish. But that was definitely something.”

You exhaled, pinching your nose. “Thank you for the drink.” You saw Stella open her mouth in protest at your ignoration of her words, but before she could say anything else you send her an apologetical smile and hurried off.

No one seemed to have noticed your encounter and you slipped into the booth with ease, trying hard not to steal another glance at the unknown man a few tables away.

No men, you reminded yourself. Right now you needed to focus on getting your life together, not getting your heart broken by a handsome stranger.

“Dr. (Y/l/n)?” “Yeah?”, your head shot up from where you had filled out paper work. Because Connor and you were only half-sibling, you didn’t share the same last name, something you had been more than glad over when stepping foot in this hospital for the first time.

No one knew where you came from and that you shared genes with the successful Dr. Rhodes and you had left it at that at first, wanting to make your own impression first before dropping the information.

You could still remember their shocked faces, the questions, but most of all the excitement as they asked what Connor had been like growing up. If you had any embarrassing stories to tell or photos to show.

You didn’t, keeping them to yourself for now, because you hadn’t come here to make fun of your brother. He had been your rock through your breakup and your move here, something you were so grateful for you feared you would never be able to show him just how much.

“We have someone hit bit a bullet waiting in the three.” Your eyes widened. “Why didn’t they come with an ambulance?”, you asked, grabbing your iPad along the way.

Maggie waved off your comment, chuckling. “Cops. You know how they are.”

Actually, you didn’t. Coming from a small town you had no experience with shootings and gangs and many of the other trauma causes that were common here in Chicago. It was why you had been so excited about your job offer at the hospital.

Although you were still adjusting to the changes of living in a city and there were downsides you hadn’t considered before, you liked it. It felt so different, giving you the sense that in this city everything could be possible.

So many options and so many possibilities, as if you could completely reinvent yourself. It was thrilling, making you wonder how you had ever lived without the adrenaline rush of stepping into a busy ER.

Quickly scanning the information on your tablet you pulled open the curtain, clamping the iPad under your arm as you disinfected your hands.

“Hi, I’m doctor (y/l/n) and you are?” You glanced up, startled as you met the eyes of a familiar stranger. The man in front of you grinned, seemingly better at covering up his surprise. “Shouldn’t it say my name on your tablet?”

He didn’t sound rude, only a little sarcastic and perhaps even teasing. You gulped, trying to recompose yourself. “Right. I just prefer getting to know my patients myself than just relying on numbers and letters.”

You didn’t see his reaction when you grabbed your iPad again, glancing down at it. “So your name is Jay Hal-” “Halstead”, he finished for you and you looked up at him again.

It made sense now, why he had seemed so familiar to you nights ago at Mollys. “You’re Will’s brother.” The man in front of you, Jay, as you knew now, raised a brow. “Have you considered becoming a detective?”

He was mocking you, again, and you were tempted to smack him with your iPad. “So-”, he paused, letting his eyes drift over you. You felt your body tense under his gaze, cop’s eyes, and stood a little straighter.

“You were watching me at Mollys.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, biting your tongue. You could only hope the embarrassment that began to sink in didn’t show.

“I was not watching you”, you stated and he raised a brow, daring you to explain yourself. “I just thought you looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now it makes sense.”

You turned halfway towards the door, gesturing to the halls where somewhere his brother was treating another patient.

“I don’t think that’s the whole truth.”

You almost gasped at the confidence in his voice, instead blowing out a breath. “It definitely was.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I don’t buy it.”

There were many things you wanted to say to him, but you swallowed them, knowing it was no use. He clearly enjoyed teasing you, so you wouldn’t give him more fuel.

Instead you let out a sigh, shifting into professionality. “So, Mr. Halstead”, you began. “Jay is fine.” You tried not to let his interruption let you lose your string again and nodded. “Jay, you’re here for a bullet wound on your left upper arm?”

Jay nodded, his eyes- they really were green- bright. Pulling on your gloves you decided it was time to reclaim your own position a little. “And you decided to just walk in here instead of coming with an ambulance? Seems a little reckless, don’t you think?”

He raised one brow at your question. “It’s just a graze. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my boss.” He rolled his eyes, making you wonder what his boss was like.

“Seems like your boss is a lot smarter than you”, you muttered, but to your surprise Jay grinned. “You’re new here, right? At least I’ve never seen you here before. Do you always talk to patients like that?”

You shrugged, unbothered by his words as you stepped close to him to take a look at his arm. You didn’t know what had gotten into you to talk to him like that, but you had the feeling with him it was fine. That he could take it, perhaps even enjoyed it over your dry professionalism.

“Only to the ones I like best”, you said with sarcasm in your voice, too focused on inspecting his wound to check his expression.

Jay didn’t move under your touch, allowing you to move his arm before you let it go again. He had done this before, probably multiple times. It was why he was so unbothered, perhaps even annoyed to waste his time here on something that seemed unsignificant to him.

For a moment you were tempted to ask him how he could choose a job that demanded such sacrifice, but you didn’t know him and you doubted he would give you an honest answer. Not that you could blame him. You were practically strangers.

And was your job much different? Although you had never been hurt and doubted it would ever happen, you were still making countless of sacrifices for it. Taking on extra shifts, working through the nights, staying longer to take more time for your patients and putting their health over your own sometimes.

“It’s just a graze shot”, you said when you were done inspecting the wound, ignoring his look that seemed to say “told you”.

“But you still need to be careful with it. Give it rest, avoid any rapid movements, don’t lift too heavy with it…I think you know.”

Jay nodded, watching you remove your gloves. “Does that happen often?” He tilted his head in question and you bit your lip. “I mean, you- getting shot on the job.”

“Are you asking if I come here often?” His lips were curled into a lopsided grin, looking way too handsome on his features. You rolled your eyes at his teasing, ignoring the way your heart beat a little faster in your chest. “Forget it”, you stated, throwing your gloves into the bin.

“I am going to tell one of the residents to come and bandage the wound. Then you’re free to go.”

But before you could move the curtain again and leave the room you heard Jay’s voice behind you. “Wait.”

You paused, turning back to him slowly. For the first time he wore a serious expression, his jaw twitching.

“I’m with the Intelligence”, he stated, in a way that told you the name should ring a bell. It didn’t. You were too new to know much about it.

Jay seemed to sense it by your lack of a reaction to his words. “We’re…very involved in the City.”

Whatever that meant. You tilted your head in question. “You mean with the gangs?”

Jay shifted. “Voight, my boss, he can be very- intense.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his guarded expression. It was a topic you wouldn’t pry at. “And you’re okay with it? I mean- you’re just so…casual about this.”

You bit your lip, hesitant to ask him but curious as well. The cops in your home town had barely ever used their weapon to the point you sometimes even doubted they were able to.

Jay shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I worked for the CPD I was in the army. I’ve been through a lot worse than a graze. Getting shot at is just another part of my job.”

A veteran.

In such a short amount of time Jay had revealed so much to you. Suddenly you had a lot more respect for the man in front of you and you wondered if that was his way of coping, covering up his battle wounds and scars with sarcasm and wit.

You swallowed, trying to find words. But none seemed fitting. “Sounds like I will be seeing you here often then.” You kept your voice emotionless, although the thought of seeing Jay regularly made your heart speed up a little. Of course you would prefer different circumstances.

Damn his handsome face and wit.

He grinned slightly, shifting the atmosphere back to something lighter. “Don’t get too excited. I prefer staying bullet free.” “As you should.”

Typing something into your iPad you gave Jay a final nod. “Stay safe out there.” Then you turned to the door, already halfway out when you heard his voice again.

“I don’t even know your name.”

You froze, smiling to yourself when you tried not to put too much weight into the fact that he had called you back a second time. It seemed almost as if he didn’t want you to leave just yet.

But you pushed the thought aside, knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t let yourself get distracted so easily.

Turning back to him you put on a polite smile.

“You’re a detective, figure it out.”

You were surprised by your own confidence, but with Jay you didn’t feel shy or insecure. He made you feel like you could say anything and he wouldn’t mind. The type of man that didn’t get upset easily, so comfortable with who he was that it took a lot to get him to lose his temper.

“I could just ask my brother, you know.”

You shrugged, unimpressed. “If that lets you sleep at night, sure.”

You left the room smiling to yourself and it took you another few minutes to calm your rapid heart and collect yourself.

“You didn’t tell me you have a brother!” “What?” Will looked up from the computer, startled by the way you had barged into the break room.

Your shift was over and you couldn’t wait to get home and relax on the couch, but before that you needed to talk to Will. Because after encountering the other Halstead your mind hadn’t been able to let go of what had happened between the two of you. The way he had looked at you, teased you. How he had made you feel nervous and confident in just a matter of moments.

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a brother?” You leaned on the desk, sure that you had Will’s full attention now. “You didn’t tell us you had a brother the first few weeks either.”

“That’s different.” You shook your head. “And I did tell you. So…?”

Will leaned back in his chair, stretching his back. “I didn’t think it mattered. I would have introduced you eventually but- wait, is Jay here?”

You bit your tongue, feeling a little caught. You hadn’t thought that maybe Jay didn’t want his brother to know what had happened. But it was too late now, and anyway, how should you have known?“

"He was. He is fine though.” You kept your words vague, aware that you weren’t allowed to share personal information with Will. Even if they were brothers.

Will let out a sigh. “That idiot. Probably got himself in trouble again.” He reached for his phone across the desk and you quickly got up, straightening.

“You didn’t get it from me”, you threw in before Will could drag you into it and he looked up at you with curiosity in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to mention you.”

“Oh.” You nodded, feeling relieved yet a little flustered. Will studied you with attentive eyes, reminding you of his brother for a second before his expression shifted into suspicion.

“So you met Jay.” He said it in a way that proposed something meaningful behind his words, but you couldn’t figure out why. “I did.” You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet before swaying forward again. A nervous habit. “I bet he’s the younger one.”

“He is, yeah.”

You suppressed a grin. It made so much sense. “So I should probably head home now. I got the early shift tomorrow.”

“Right.” Will nodded, the phone in his hands seemingly forgotten as his eyes were still fixed on you. “Did something happen between you and my brother?”

Your heart sank a little. Were you really so obvious? “I told you I’ve sworn off men. And your brother is- annoying.”

You wished the last part didn’t sound like it came straight from a five year old’s mouth, but it was too late to take back.

“Trust me, I know that.” Will let out a sigh, but you could see the fondness in his eyes. The gesture alone told you they had a close relationship.

A cop and a doctor. What a pair.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Weeks had passed since you had last seen Jay. He hadn’t shown up in the hospital again, which you were both glad for and disappointed at, and since you had been taking on extra shifts for a sick co-worker, you had spent almost all your time at the hospital or passed out in your bed.

“You haven’t gone out with us in weeks!” Sylvie was currently trying to convince you to come to Mollys. You had gotten to know her through Stella and the two of you had gotten along well, her sweet and kind nature something that made you feel comfortable around her instantly.

Although you had quickly learned not to underestimate the girl. She was working with a bunch of guys after all and had learned to stand her ground with them.

Sylvie could be very persistent, you realized again when she had called you to invite you to a girl’s night out. “Stella won’t be working today, so it’s our chance to spend the night as just us girls.”

You gnawed your lip, thinking. You were tired, craving your couch and tv more than going out again, but Sylvie wasn’t wrong, you had been mostly on your own the past days. Being a little social and getting out of your own apartment would probably be good.

“Urgh, fine”, you groaned. “But you’re paying my first drink.” You knew Sylvie was smiling triumphantly on the other end of the line. “Deal.” “Now get your ass over here!” It was Stella’s voice in the background and you chuckled. “You are the worst!”

“And you love us anyway”, she chirped and you hung up, shaking your head with a smile on your face.

You hadn’t thought about impressing anyone when getting ready, but you were more than glad you had put a little effort into your outfit and make-up when you stepped into Molly’s that night, your getup like a wall build around you.

“You came!” Stella crossed the room, her voice loud enough for a couple of heads to turn towards you. You could kill her for drawing attention to you, but you forced a smile onto your lips instead, trying not to look at anyone except her.

“Hey”, you muttered, shrugging out of your coat and hugging her. “Wow, girl you look stunning!” Stella’s eyes flashed up and down your body as she let go, a smirk on her face.

“A little quieter, please?”, you almost whispered, aware that you still had the attention of the people around you. Stella seemed either completely oblivious to it all or unbothered, because she grinned at you. “Looking like that you will draw attention to you whether you like it or not!”

You felt your cheeks heat up a little, glad when you spied Sylvie making her way over. “I told her not to make a scene, but she wouldn’t listen. You know how she is!”

You hugged her too, smiling as Stella let out a breath. “I did not make a scene. And I’m standing right here, you know?”

Laughing, the three of you made your way to the back, where you slipped into a booth, your drink already waiting for you. “You know me so well”, you told Stella as you took your first sip, relaxing a little now that the attention had mostly vanished.

“I got you, girl!” Stella winked at you, before launching into a story about their newest rescue. Soon you were enveloped in laughter and smiles, the stress of the last days forgotten for the night.

Only when Stella declared it was time for another round of drinks you felt the exhaustion return to your body. “I think I’m going to head home”, you told them, stretching a little in your seat. “Early shift tomorrow?”, Sylvie asked and you nodded.

“You’re way too selfless, taking on all these extra shifts”, Stella pointed out, but you waved her off. “I’m the new one, so it’s fine. Helps me get to know everyone and everything better and it’s not like I have much to do in this city yet. I only got my gym membership, but I didn’t really have time to look for anything else.”

“See? That’s exactly why you need time off! You should be out exploring the city!” You smiled at Stella’s enthusiasm. “It’s not like it won’t be here tomorrow. I’m planning on staying here, so there’s plenty of time to get to know it all.”

Sylvie offered you a smile. “I’m glad you do. I know it can be quite an adjustment to move to a big city like Chicago, but it will feel like your home in no time.”

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest as you thought back to the past months, which had been filled with nothing but heartbreak, loss and a turmoil of emotions. Even as you had decided to start a new life in Chicago, you had been filled with fear and uncertainty, scared to make the wrong call yet again.

Never could you have imagined to find a job, that was so challenging, but gave you a sense of purpose and a group of friends, that felt like you had met them long ago.

“It already kind of does”, you admitted, your eyes fixed on the empty glass in front of you before you looked up at them again. They both looked at you with big smiles on their faces and you almost felt tears fill your eyes. It had been a long day.

“We should do this more often”, you told them as you got up and grabbed your coat. “That’s what I said!” Stella nodded.

“And I still need to show you that spinning class. You would love it!” Sylvie sounded so excited that you couldn’t help but chuckle. “I am sure. Just text me and we’ll find something.”

“And you’re sure you can’t stay longer?”

Your eyes drifted to the counter as you considered staying for another drink, but your body felt heavy and almost sore from the day’s work. “Next time. But you two have fun and don’t drink too much”, you winked at them.

As you excited the bar you waved towards a few familiar faces before pulling your coat closer around your body to prepare yourself for Chicago’s cold.

Still you shivered as you stepped outside, pulling out your phone to order an Uber. Something you had only done once before, on your way here, but was an easy and quick way of getting around the city.

It would take a few minutes for your driver to arrive and you realized it would have been a lot smarter to wait inside, but you hadn’t thought of it then and you felt too proud to step inside again.

Pressing your hands together you rubbed them against each other a few times to create heat, before slinging your arms around your torso. Chicago’s harsh winters wasn’t something you hadn’t gotten used to yet, but the promise of snow lingering in the air made it almost worth it.

You heard the faint sound of the door opening and closing behind you so you took a step to the side of the building, not wanting to stand in the way of whoever had just left the bar.

To your surprise the person came to stand beside you, his presence alarming you until you glanced up to find none other than Jay Halstead standing next to you.

Immediately your body relaxed again, as if it knew by instinct his presence meant safety. “That was quite an entrance”, he greeted you, referring to the moment you had stepped into Molly’s.

You felt your cheeks flush at the memory, hoping he couldn’t see it in the dim light of the streetlamp. “I didn’t know you were here.” You kept your eyes trained at the empty street in front of you, willing and dreading the moment your driver came to pick you up.

“I was with the unit”, he said and you turned your head towards him. “Are you here often?” He shrugged, his eyes darting to the building. “I guess so, yeah. It’s the place where everyone comes.”

You nodded silently, contemplating his words. “But if I want to be alone, I go to the bar at the corner North Milwaukee Avenue.” You met his eyes curiously. Was he making recommendations, because you were new in the city or did he have another intention?

“So bars and hospitals. Everywhere else I can expect to run into Jay Halstead?” You didn’t know why you asked, but a part of you wanted to know. Wanted to know more about him, what his life was like, what made him who he was.

Jay grinned faintly. “You make it sound like I’ve got issues.” “Do you? Have issues?” You were teasing and he smirked. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t think I have.” Even as you said it you knew your words couldn’t be farer from the truth. Hadn’t your issues been what had led you here?

Jay watched you for a moment, seemingly picking up on your change of mood, but sensing you weren’t ready to talk about it. You appreciated it, welcoming the silence to sort your thoughts again.

“So what led you here to Chicago?” His question was innocent and something you had been asked countless of times since your move here, but for some reason you felt the urge to be open with him. No lies or excuses.

And even if Jay barely knew you, you thought he would be able to pick up on it. He must be an excellent detective.

“There were some…things I needed to leave behind.” It was vague, but more than you had told most who had asked. Only the girls knew about your breakup, but even with them you hadn’t shared many details.

Jay didn’t ask further, his grave expression suggesting he understood you better than you might have thought. “Why Chicago?” You glanced away from him, taking in the empty road, the skyline with its lights in the background. “I needed a fresh start, somewhere where no one knew who I am. And I got family here, so it made sense.”

You could feel his eyes on you and you swallowed before facing him again. For a moment your eyes locked, none of you saying anything as you started at each other. Jay was the first one to break the heavy atmosphere, a smile dancing at his lips.

“But you’re not a criminal on the run, are you? Because I would have to arrest you, if you were.” The tension that had risen in your body at the mention of your past vanished and you grinned, relieved about his ability to lighten the atmosphere. “What gave it away?”

Jay leaned a little closer, his eyes glistening. “Maybe the way you always look over your shoulder-” You inhaled. Was that really something you did? “-or that you’re nervous around me, a cop.”

The air you had held escaped you in a surprised sound and you hugged your torso a little tighter. “I’m not nervous around you”, you huffed, shaking your head. Jay grinned.

“How is your arm by the way?” You weren’t interested in talking about yourself any longer, shifting the topic onto him. Your gazes travelled down his arm where his jacket was covering the wound you had inspected. It seemed like forever ago and like yesterday at once.

“It’s good. Voight’s keeping me at a leash, make sure I’m 100% before I get into the field again.” He said it like it wasn’t a big deal, but you could hear the strain in his voice. He missed it, being out there on the streets.

“Sounds reasonable to me.” “Yeah.” Jay nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. It seemed like you weren’t the only one with secrets.

You looked up at the sound of a car nearing, a black car approaching the two of you. Checking your phone you held it up. “That’s my ride.”

But you only managed one step towards it before Jay pulled you back, his hand wrapped around your lower arm. You gazed at it, confused and startled by his reaction and he loosened his grip, his hand falling to his side after a moment.

“You know the guy?”, he asked, pointing to the man that was sitting behind the wheel, an impatient expression on his face.

Slowly you shook your head, your eyes flickering between the car and Jay. “But he’s my ride. See-” you held up your phone to him, but Jay paid it little attention.

“Yeah, no, you’re not climbing into that car”, he stated, his voice firm but not unfriendly. “Wait, what?”

Surprised you watched Jay walk towards the car, waiting for the driver to pull down the window before leaning in. You couldn’t hear what was said, only watched the two speak for a minute.

Their conversation ended with Jay handing the man money, before walking back towards you as the car sped away in the darkness.

“What the hell was that?”, you asked as Jay came to stand beside you again, his body just as relaxed as before. “You’re new in Chicago, right?” You didn’t say anything, knowing it was a question he didn’t expect an answer to.

“You should not be climbing into a car with a stranger. And not in the dark.”

Your head spun as you tried to process what he was implying. “It was just an uber! Everyone does that around here.”

You sounded clueless and defensive, shocked about the sudden change of events. Jay eyed you. “Well, then take it from me to never do that again. At least not alone. Chicago’s not a good place, especially for women, trust me on that one.”

You didn’t know what to say, blinking at him as the impact of it sank in. What if Jay hadn’t stepped outside? You doubted anything would have happened, but what if he was right and you had been reckless? Naive?

“So how am I supposed to get around the city then? Because driving in this traffic is madness.”

For the first time since your interruption Jay smiled again. “You can just ask me. I am much cheaper anyway. And on top you will get to see my face.”

You rolled your eyes over his confidence. “Now that’s a deal I can’t decline”, you muttered, fighting the grin that threatened to spread over your face and failing. Damn it.

“But for real, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just call you all the time I want to go somewhere.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if we went together.”

Your eyes widened as you almost choked on the air. “You mean a date?”

Jay shrugged, his eyes not meeting yours for only a second. “You can pay me back for saving your ass twice.”

“Twice?”

“Getting into that car for one and saving you from freezing here on the street by driving you home.”

Smooth. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “Does that work with every woman you’re trying to impress?”

Jay shrugged, fiddling for something in his pocket before pulling out his car keys. You watched a car light up at the other side of the street, following Jay towards it.

“I wouldn’t know. And who says I’m trying to impress you?”

“Maybe because of this whole I’m-a-cop-and-I’m-so-tough-thing.”

Now it was Jay’s turn to chuckle. “That’s not just a thing. So, what are you saying?”

Oh. You bit your lip, considering the thought of going on a date with Jay. Hadn’t you just recently decided not to date and focus on yourself for a while?

But you couldn’t deny you wanted to say yes. To spend more time around him and enjoy the feeling of ease he gave you.

“Maybe.”

You said it with a teasing smile, scared Jay might take your answer in a bad way, but he sent you a confident grin. “I can work with that.”

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beatrixstonehill2 · 4 months

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"Thank you to all my amazing TikTok fans who talked me into detransitioning! ❤️ You guys are incredible. My sister's been encouraging me to detrans for a while, but from her it just sounded like innocent teasing. But seeing hundreds of you guys comment and send me messages telling me to stop taking estrogen, get my boobs removed, and just embrace being male. I know I should've just listened to my sister a long time ago and stopped living as some big-breasted porn fantasy of being female. I can't believe what a slut I was.... I've probably been fucked by hundreds of guys, and sucked twice as much cock. It was so affirming to be a sorority slut, but in the background every time I posted on TikTok or Insta you guys would be there to call me male, tell me I need to give up on playing make believe and finally go through male puberty.

I'm not gonna lie, I'd masturbate to all your wonderful comments, misgendering me, telling me I'm obviously just a guy with fat man-boobs. My sister would like and agree with so many of those comments. And so would my parents.... and my college professors. I got home one night after getting passed around by like five or six guys, my boobs bruised and swollen, my cock the same way.... I looked at my bottle of estrogen and dumped it out. The very next morning I went to the university's medical department and requested to be put on testosterone. I'm only six months into my detransition but the effects are so noticeable. My face is getting more masculine--not that I ever looked much like a girl to begin with!

And of course my college encouraged me to get my breasts removed asap, when I got my T prescription, they practically pushed me straight into the surgery wing. I went in, took off my clothes, and one of the guys who fucked me only a couple nights ago was the surgery student who was going to work on me. He smiled when he saw me and said he knew I was going to detrans sooner or later. I sat there as the surgery students watched, many of whom I've been fucked by, whistling and cheering me on to detransition. I sat there jerking off my five-inch cock as the guy wrote his guidelines on my breasts to remove them, telling me how much fun he was going to have destroying my breasts in front of the class, tossing them in the trash, having just grabbed and played with them so recently. He said he was hoping the whole time he'd get the chance to remove them. As I sat there listening, jerking off, I told him I hoped he'd have fun....

Now I'm living as a femboy. Still presenting like a girl, but embracing being a boy as my facial hair starts to come in and my body gradually masculinizes at long last. My sister couldn't be more pleased with me. The same with the rest of my family, although I'm still just a college slut.... The main difference is I now live at the frat house, with the other detrans boys. We all sleep together, and share the responsibility of keeping all the jocks other guys satisfied, when they aren't fucking their curvy pregnant girlfriends, or other trans girls, telling them to detrans and stop being delusional fake girls as they fuck them. I hope lots more trans girls get their big fat boobs chopped off and join us here at the frat house, it's so much more fun being a boy. ❤️"

#detrans kink #mtf detrans kink #mtftm kink #sissi femboi #femboy kink

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

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Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter 2)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 3K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, soft!Joel (He needs his own warning I swear), slow burn but nothing else

Authors Note / I AM SO OVERWHELMED FOR THE LOVE FOR CHAPTER ONE. I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed it so far. This fic is incredibly personal to me. I've not lost a husband or a boyfriend (apart from a typical breakup) but over the recent years I've lost several family members so grief is close to me. I hope you enjoy chapter two - if you like it then comments, reblogs and asks are always helpful - thanks as always for your support of my writing.

Main Masterlist / Series Masterlist

The sun is only starting to colour the sky when you wake that morning. It’s already warm in your bedroom, sheets pushed to one side and that’s when you realise why you’ve woken. Leg draped over the mound of sheets, hand resting on the empty side of the bed, head rested on the pillow that isn’t yours. Because it feels like him. You roll over onto your back and drape your arm over your eyes, letting the pressure bring you back to the real world.

Once you were sure your breathing was somewhere close to normal, you push yourself off the bed and pad down the hallway to the bathroom. You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before you step under the spray. There’s something about this routine that helps ground you too. Counting the steps in your mind, ticking them off the to-do list. Shampoo hair. Done. Condition ends. Done. Scrub skin. Done. Brush teeth. Done.

By the time you’re setting the coffee to filter, you’ve already made it to sunrise, and you haven’t cried. It’s not healthy, and you know it, but this little competition with yourself helps, seeing how far you can make it through the day without thoughts so deep you have to pack yourself back to bed to try again tomorrow.

Sitting on the bench on the front porch, it’s still quiet. The only people milling about the street were the people heading out on patrol, swapping with those who were coming back. No-one paid you much mind, sitting by yourself, mug cradled in your hands, which was the way you preferred it. You sat there, watching the sky changing colour as the sun rose in earnest, until you could see Maria in the distance, walking towards you. You gave her a small wave, taking your mug inside before grabbing what you needed. Ration cards. Yes. Keys. Yes. Shopping bag. Yes.

“Good morning, honey.” She greets, kiss pressed to your cheek and arms pulling you into a hug.

You wish her a good morning whilst you wrap your arms around her. She’d been your strength this past year. Never pushing you more than she thought you could take, always there when you needed her shoulder to cry on. She’d fed you for the first few months when you couldn’t bear to cook yourself. She truly was the best friend you’d ever had.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you made your way to the market hall. At one point, you wouldn’t have let go of Maria’s arm, but now, you were happy to walk alongside her, hands shoved into the pockets of your jeans. They were small steps, but steps in the right direction none-the-less.

Halfway to the market hall, you could see Joel walking towards you from the other direction. Gun slung over his shoulder, he looks as though he’s just coming back from patrol.

“Good mornin’, ladies,” He greets, “Going anywhere nice?”

“Just to the market,” Maria replies, “Good patrol?”

“Uneventful, so I guess you could say so,” He turns to you now, “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come by and sort that table out for you, I’m off tomorrow, how about I swing by then?”

You smile and nod, “Of course, whenever is good for you.”

He bids you both goodbye, he’d been up all night patrolling the walls and was ready to collapse, and when you began walking again, you could feel Maria’s eyes on you and the slight smirk on her mouth. It wasn’t until you were picking up a bowl of tomatoes that she decided to press the subject.

“Joel making himself at home then?”

“He just fixed one of my steps is all,” You replied, refusing to meet her eyes, “And then I asked him to build the table and chairs I wanted, and he agreed.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, but the smirk was still across her lips, “I know what you’re thinking!” You exclaim, moving to walk down the aisle from her, she jogs to catch up, “It’s nothing Maria, and it’s shameful of you to suggest otherwise, it’s barely been a year.”

“I’m sorry,” She speaks softly, taking hold of your arm, “That was wrong of me, what I really meant was that it’s nice that you’re getting back out there, making friends, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

“No, I’m sorry for snapping,” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair.

Maria presses a hand to your shoulder in comfort, “Let’s finish up here and get you home.”

You nod and spend the rest of your time in the market in silence. You pick up more fresh strawberries, along with the rest of your essentials. Maria helps you drop everything in your kitchen when you return and gives you another strong hug, “I’m sorry honey, about earlier, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was assuming anything.”

“It’s honestly fine Maria,” You reassured, putting the flour and honey you’d bought in one of your cupboards, “I’m trying,” You sighed, “Just trying to get back to living, and he was nice to me, I’m not interested in anything else but it sure would be nice to have another friend.”

She nods in understanding, “You know, for the longest time I hated him,” She speaks quietly, “When I met Tommy, the stories he told me, the things they’d both done to get to where they were, I thought he was a terrible person, but the more time I’ve spent with him, I know deep down he has a good heart, I think he might be good for you,” She says, “As a friend, of course.” She adds finally.

She leaves you then and suddenly it feels empty in your home. It always does. There is no sound of warm laughter, no sound of another pair of boots on the wooden floor. It’s the quiet that really tightens your chest these days. You look to the stairs; it would be so easy to climb them and collapse into bed right now. Ignore your feelings for a while. Maybe fall into a dreamless sleep and just try again tomorrow. Your feet are almost carrying you before you stop yourself. Not today, you think. It’s not going to get the better of you today. Your eyes fall to the fresh box of strawberries on your counter and you’re moving before you realise what you’re doing.

An hour later, there’s a fresh strawberry pie cooling on the side. It was a frivolous use of your flour and butter ration, but the smell of the pastry reminds you of your mother. She always had some kind of fresh pie cooling on the side when you came home from school. Always served it with ice cream after dinner. Mark was always pragmatic with rations; he would have never let you use your feeble allowance on such a thing. You’d always used the flour for bread, butter was saved for making sandwiches, or spreading on the last slices on the weekend when you toasted it as a treat.

Looking at the pie, you know you should feel silly, but you don’t. You feel proud of yourself. You can almost hear Mark’s voice in your head, he’d call you a silly girl, but he wouldn’t mean it. He’d chastise you for wasting your resources, but with a smile on his face. And then he would gladly take the slice you offered him. He’d kiss you with sugary lips and wipe the flour from your cheeks. Doing something he wouldn’t approve of was good, surely? Moving on, in a tiny step, to making your own life.

There’s a feeling of guilt beneath you though, looking at the pie. You can’t bring yourself to cut a slice. Can’t bring yourself to feel the joy of the fruit in your mouth. How silly to think that one simple thing could fix you. You shake your head and leave it cooling on the side, curling into the couch, reading the same page of the same book you’ve had on the coffee table for months.

Joel knocks on your door at 11am the next morning. He’s alone again, toolbox in hand, letting you know that he’s given Ellie to Maria and Tommy for the day, something about teaching her to ride horses. You lead him through the house and out back, leaving him to set himself up for the day.

You make two cups of coffee, remembering he likes his black. You add a splash of milk to yours. The milk is so fresh from the cows on the farm that you must scoop a layer of cream off the top. You would normally scoop it off and eat it straight from the spoon, but there’s too much today, so you scoop it into a small glass, taking the mugs to the back porch where Joel is measuring up the wood. You set his mug down on the porch railing, taking your own in your hands as you sit down on the floor, back against the wall just to the left of the back door.

The sun is shining again, warming your arms. You lean your head back and close your eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

You open your eyes and look at him without moving your head, “Depends how exciting your conversation is going to be today.” You tease.

He smiles and turns his attention back to sawing a piece of wood to size, “What did you do before all this?”

You scoff a little, “I was about to start my second year at college, seems like a huge waste of fucking time now, the inheritance money wasted on half a degree.”

“Well, that money would still be pretty useless now anyway,” He shrugs, “What did you study?”

You have to hand it to him, he’s not wrong, “Drama,” You laugh, “Thought I was going to be a big star, already had that Oscars acceptance speech written up here.” You tap one of your temples.

“Who were you going to thank?”

“My parents mainly, although they were already both gone by the time I’d started studying, all the usuals, my agent, the academy, everyone who ever told me I couldn’t do it.”

He chuckles, “You definitely had it all figured out.”

A comfortable silence falls between you as you finish up your coffee. The wood of the decking is hard on your back and you shift uncomfortably, moaning a little in pain when you sit further to one side than the other, your lower back aching slightly, “You know you don’t have to sit out here with me if it’s uncomfortable right?”

“I know,” You respond simply, “It’s just nice to have company.”

“You don’t have other friends here?” He asks, hammering some nails into a piece of wood.

You shake your head, “I guess I did when we first came here, but Mark was always the more likeable of us, people gravitated towards him and I guess when you spend a year wallowing in your own self-pity, people get pretty tired of telling you the same things over and over again in the hopes you’ll snap out of it.”

He nods, “When I lost Sarah, I remember the overwhelming feeling of pointlessness,” He’s not looking at you as he’s speaking, focusing his attention on what you think is becoming a chair, “She’d been my whole life for so long that I just didn’t know what the point was without here, especially in this new world,” You hum in agreement, “And the fact that the healing is never linear, you know?” You hum again, “It’s been twenty years and I still have days where it’s overwhelming, but they become few and far between – I’ll never forget her, but remembering her gets easier, and I bet it will for you as well.”

You lean your head back against the siding of your house, “You sound just like my therapist,” You point out, “She keeps telling me that I need to find something new to keep living for, but how do I do that was he was the only family I ever really had?”

Joel stops for a moment, picking up his mug of coffee to drain it, “Family is a strange old thing,” He finally speaks, “Sure, Tommy is my brother, but Maria? Ellie? I found them; you’ve just got to find your new family.”

“You’re a very wise man, Joel Miller.”

“I think I’ve just lived a longer life, sweet pea.”

The rest of the day continues in much the same way. Snippets of conversation, moments of silence, at one point you get up to water the plants as the midday sun makes way for the dip in temperature for the early afternoon. Joel is a fast but competent worker and as the sun is beginning to set, you have four new chairs dotted around the decking.

“You wanna test them out?” He asked, dropping the last of his tools into the box.

You nod, walking the one that’s closest to you, before gingerly setting yourself down on it as if it might collapse under you, “Come on, I’m a professional, have some faith in me.” Joel murmurs as he watches you slowly lower yourself onto it.

He’s right, it doesn’t collapse. The way he’s built them mean there’s a slight slant to the backrest, meaning you can lean your head back and fully relax when you sit. You can’t deny that he’s done a fantastic job.

“These are great Joel, thank you,” You say, standing back up, “Sit down, I’ve got something to say thank you.”

You disappear into the kitchen as Joel lowers himself onto one of the chairs. He can’t deny he’s done a good job either, maybe he’ll have to make something similar for him and Ellie. He’s already trying to figure out where he might find the wood for his own project when you’re back on the decking with two plates in your hand.

“Is that pie?” He asks as you hand him a plate.

“It is indeed,” You confirm, sitting in the chair next to him with your own plate, “I made it yesterday in an attempt to avoid going to bed at 12pm, you’re lucky that there was cream on the milk too.” You smile, pointing a finger to the sliver of cream you’d divided onto each slice.

“I can’t remember the last time I had anything like this,” He muses, sliding his fork through the end of his slice before eating it, “Jesus Christ, that’s good.”

You chuckle, doing the same to your slice. You had to admit it was pretty good for a rudimentary baking job, the fruit was sweet and you’d managed to make the pastry pretty well too, “I actually can’t remember the last time I had anything like this either,” You take another bite, “I was thinking yesterday as I was making it that Mark would have been cross that I’d used our butter and flour ration to make pastry.”

“I bet once he tried it though he would have forgiven you,” Joel replies, “No-one can be mad for long when it tastes this good.”

You smile to yourself and spend the rest of the time it takes to eat in silence. You sit for a while before Joel’s hand comes into view, he gently takes the plate from your hand and stands, “I better go and get Ellie, she’s probably driving Tommy and Maria up the wall with questions,” He chuckles, “Let me wash these first though.”

You follow him through to the kitchen and cut another slice of pie whilst he rinses the dishes, “Take this for Ellie,” You implore as he’s stood in your kitchen with his toolbox about to leave, “I bet she’s never had something like this.”

He takes the plate gratefully in his other hand, “Listen, I don’t want to step over a line, but I was wonderin’ if you maybe wanted to join me for a drink sometime?”

Almost immediately there’s a sense of panic rising in your throat as you imagine what he’s asking for in your mind. If he’s asking you to The Tipsy Bison, you can already feel the eyes boring into you and the whispers from everyone else. If he’s asking you to go to his place for a drink does that mean he’s asking you on a date? You wring your hands together in front of you and you can tell he can sense your internal battle.

“Just as a friend,” He reassures, “I hope you don’t mind but Tommy told me you don’t really like goin’ anywhere anymore, and well, I just don’t think it’s right, for you to feel like you have to stay here all the time, I promise I won’t let anythin’ bad happen to you, sweet pea.”

You think back to the conversation with your therapist from last week. She’d ask you what you’d done to challenge yourself recently and you had nothing to offer her. She’s suggested that you really did need to try to start ‘reintegrating’ yourself back into the community, or there would come a time where you simply couldn’t. She’d challenged you to try going to the market on your own one day without Maria, or to go for a walk through the town on your own, just one thing before you met her next that would push you out of your comfort zone and make you realise that you could do it.

“Okay,” You agree, “But if something bad does happen, you’re taking the blame, alright?”

“If I had a free hand, I would cross my heart,” He smiles, “How about tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night. Not quite enough time to convince yourself it was a bad idea and hide yourself away. The sooner you went, the sooner it would be over, so you nod in agreement. Joel arranges to drop by at six and pick you up and then he was gone, and your house yet again felt as empty as always. It was getting dark outside, an acceptable time to call it a night and crawl into bed.

PREV / NEXT

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x f!reader #GOY #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #The Last Of Us fic #The Last Of Us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction

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lovedianagrey · 4 months

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soukoku fics: recs and reviews

look, i really like fanfiction. and i've always felt people sometimes don't give good enough reasons to actually read a lot of it. if you scroll down enough, you'll see i did that too. so i thought i'd help out some people that don't know what to read tonight. you'll notice i took my reviewing seriously hgdsafvkhagsv i'll add more in my reblogs as i go on with this review style, but for now, here are three fanfics that pushed me to do this. fair warning, they're long ones.

A Lesson in Thorns by arkastadt

Word Count: 454,556

Tags: Arranged Marriage, BSD Beast!AU, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Happy Ending, Ghosts, So Much Smut

Review:

As one of the longest fics I’ve ever read, it took me three days to read it, and a lot of lost sleep. A Lesson in Thorns is a journey that no one is truly prepared for. It’s surprising, I think, how one only notices the slow burn in the beginning, and forget they didn’t start out together in the end. So many things happen in the span of those fifty chapters, and so many feelings arise alongside their events. The reader watches Chuuya grow into himself, despite the haunting (hehe) that surrounds him by the end. Dazai becomes a man wishing to live, despite becoming a ghost of who he used to be. It’s quite magical, the way the story builds upon itself. What is usually some home, this piece makes an empire.

This author appealed a lot to the wants and needs within these characters, making a paced build up to the challenges the characters face. Furthermore, there is a wonderful line of thought that is unwavering, consistent to the very end. The reader meets Chuuya getting ready to be married. A deal has been struck with the Port Mafia, and as the leader of the Sheep, Chuuya must marry their boss. A questionable and confusing task, but Chuuya has no more cards under his sleeve, and he has to save Shirase from the pending prison sentence. He walks into where he is to be married, looking to find a wrinkled, aging man. Instead, he faces the bandaged limbs and cunning eye of Dazai Osamu, and the story truly begins.

The reader already knows it’s not a choice left for random that Dazai takes Chuuya under his wing. It’s already stated that on the first day in his position as the boss, right after killing Mori and sixteen months before he and Chuuya marry, he finds the redhead. A search that is broken down as the story unravels, and an effort that builds them and breaks them apart and puts them back together.

This fanfic is clearly derived from a lot of the factors pointed in Bungou Stray Dogs’s BEAST light novel, which in my eyes makes it all the more interesting. I tried to give a short insight into the beginning with as much care as I could without creating any spoilers for the reading. I guess from me, all my notes just say it’s worth it. This fic really drags you through so many stages of feelings and excitements, and it builds off from them until you reach a new peak all over again.

On Deathless Feet by AbsoluteNegation

Word Count: 71,848

Tags: Caretaking, Controlling Arahabaki, Canon-Divergence, Port Mafia and Post-Port Mafia, Smut

Review:

There are some stories that find themselves tucked into a hidden corner. It does not make them any less, and it does not make them any better, it just makes them quiet. Which in turn, when they are finally found, makes them all the more surprising. That is how I feel about On Deathless Feet, tucked in a corner of Ao3, and all incredibly surprising.

Written with a nonlinear narrative, the reader meets the famed Double Black in different moments, recently met, in the middle of their rise through the ranks, at the brink of their end, after their disconnection with years of silence. AbsoluteNegation makes a wonderful story threaded in different moments, contextualizing their uncomfortable return to each other with interruptions back to their old lives before Dazai’s split from the Port Mafia. The author mainly focuses on Arahabaki, and Chuuya’s relationship with understanding the singularity as it slips out of control. Dazai is sent in to help counter it throughout their time together, and long stretches of contact are needed to get it down to normal.

With a state of constant carataking, the two are thrusted into communion, needing to learn to accept living with each other for the time being. It isn’t a foreign feeling, seeing the other there, but at the end of the day it’s hard for the two with all that past. A past the author explores in detail just as much, not holding back on making it layered and pretty and very intense. They are creatures of passion, that’s what drives this ship and makes it so loved, and the author doesn’t shy away from building on it. Just as well, however, does the author place their own touch to their relationship, with the care and devotion the two also experiment between them. This fanfic is a welcomed balance to the rockier roads often explored surrounding these two. It never lacks sharpness, but it definitely warms the heart.

music for our funeral by itotypes

Word Count: 67,723

Tags: No Smut, Angst, 70s, Musicians!AU, Drug Abuse, References to Child Neglect, Songwriting, Artistic Lyricism

Review:

Music for our funeral by itotypes is a breathtaking composition, and there is not much like it. Set in the 70s, the author explores the surrounding setting of the rock genre, and writes a story of struggle and connection. Starting out with a run-away teenager, we meet Dazai’s lackluster perfection, the narrative often picturing him as a clinical artist. After leaving home, we watch him make himself something, and see him survive until he looks to live. Meanwhile, the other side of the piece plays with a striving perfectionist, and a reckless guitarist, in the form of Chuuya. The man comes from a struggling family (a stark contrast to the origins of his partner), and finds himself lost in the music.

An interesting part of the story is that we get to know the characters before they meet. In a way, it allows the reader to explore the lives privy to the explosion, and before the pining and intensity that sparks between the two. One of the most appreciative factors that make this story one of my personal favorites is the usage of images throughout it. With beautiful lyrics exploring the essence of a character’s beliefs without them needing to admit it to themselves, there is a clear view into the conflicts and selfish needs that each character has.

This author’s work is best described as an ode to music. It comes as a surprise at times, the way words fit together in reverence to this branch of artistry. Yet the fact that it’s done through another form of storytelling, through the use of words on a screen instead of notes on one’s ear, makes it all the more captivating. There is no question this is a must read.

#i read and review and rant #i have no idea if anyone wants this #i have no regrets writing this tho #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #soukoku #skk #skk fanfiction #soukoku fanfiction #fanfic recs #fanfic recommendations #fanfic reviews

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readreactrant · 2 months

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"Love, or Something Ignites" might just be the best goyuu fic ever!!! let me explain!!! (Thoughts and Review)

Some quick context but cuz this review was already going to be pretty long without my flashback sequence so pls scroll down to the red text if you don't want to hear my history of opinions with JJK and its ships.

I've been deep in the goyuu tag since the beginning of the year, which I found kind of strange at first since I watched S1 way back in 2022 and did not give much of af about the whole show.

I kicked my feet a bit at SukuFushi, tried to like it more, and even searched out a couple of fics but they just weren't giving AT ALL.

At the start of 2023 I watched jjk 0 and I was kinda hyped to get back into the show, but my shipping heart still ached for something to latch onto so I went on AO3 and picked up the first fic I found. Surprise, surprise, it was a goyuu fic featuring role reversal. I wouldn't say I liked it but it did tickle something in my brain I would have explored if I wasn't neck deep in my bakudeku era at the time.

Then S2 happened and it all just sorta clicked for me. Before then I'd mainly been a SukuIta believer, I didn't frequent their fics but I DID gobble up their twincest doujins like I was starved when I had the time. 2nd cour of S2 coming out practically sealed Goyuu for me, I'd always felt there was a bit of something I saw between them but Yuuji screaming out for Gojo in that last frame...just...*chef's kiss*

I didn't go back to rewatch S1 where a majority of their reactions were like some diehard fans would but the clips and screencaps I've come across now and again are enough to solidify for me that yes! They are made for each other!! (Hope the wrong stsg fans don't find this ◉‿◉)

I'd really love to go on and on about their dynamic but this was supposed to be about my February fic of the month, "Love, or Something Ignites" by lainebee.

Like I said, I've been deep in the tags and the only others I think that come close to this one are "No Sanctuary" by eddie01 and both world's sequels.

Now I'm not saying there aren't other good ones, like I'm just halfway through the hundred and something AO3 pages of their ship tag, so there's a lot I've yet to see. Still, this is a sorta subjective review and I just hope to spread the word of this masterpiece and maybe meet others who've read it so we can fan together in the comments.

(Now that's all out of the way, there will be mild spoilers and also warnings for; omegaverse, mpreg, and voyeurism so let's hop to it (✿^‿^)

The fic is set in a historical Japan au where Yuuji and Sukuna are brothers, with Sukuna being much older and ruling over a kingdom in the south. Thing is, he's constantly at war with the Gojo clan cuz these two mfs are just built like that in every verse. Shit happens and they come to a truce and as a sign of goodwill Sukuna offers Yuuji, his recently presented omega brother, as a gift (I honestly thought Yuuji was like 16 or 17 but he's 19 so like whatever idc (╥﹏╥)

"So what's the problem?" you might ask, well aside from the obvious marriage of convenience plot, Gojo doesn't give a fuck, he's still hung up on Geto (kinda tho, it's complicated but they aren't in love) and he's pretty much intended to go through it for show.

But that's not the end; not only do our boys have no feelings for each other and have never even met, but THING IS... Sukuna has demanded a public consummation cuz he's a bastard like that and we love him for it. Worry not there's no fucking on a stage for everyone to watch...just fucking in a 'room' for a handful of witnesses to watch from behind those dresser screen things (vocab not working lol).

The fic is definitely kinda long and tho there are some slow-burn vibes a lot of it essentially takes place in ONE FUCKING DAY. My first assumptions going into this were, "pacing issues???" and "oh the author is going to either insta love them, make them fuck and spend the rest of the fic doing fluff, or they will fuck with some angst then spend the rest falling in love."

Color me surprised when yeah, they did fuck but that was one or two chapters from the last of about nine.

You expect this kind of shit to feel rushed as fuck but the writing is so fucking divine that you never feel like putting it down. There's always so much going on but time is never wasted dwelling on one subject for too long, it's fast, it's funny, and the characters and setting are constantly giving the energy you know and love from the original show but probably two times better.

One of the things I noticed a few GoYuu writers struggle with is accurately reflecting Gojo cuz he's actually an enigma and arguably one of the most complex characters in the show with a broad range of emotions. He doesn't particularly fit one kind of vibe whereas for everyone else you can pick one or something close to it. Gojo on the other hand goes from one end of the spectrum to the other pretty quickly and that's super hard to capture and explore, especially when it comes to the shorter smutty fics (Not complaining too much tho, I live for the E rating.)

I love the direction the author chose to go with him, and it feels so true to his character, his immature but his teasing doesn't feel over the top or come off as exaggerated. His status as the strongest is just told but shown to us with the way he behaves and I like that we get instances of him getting work done despite knowing he's a rebel. It reminds us that yeah, he's working to make the clan the way he wants but he's just going along with what he has to in true Gojo fashion.

Yuuji, is totally something else, it's implied that he actually killed people...and I don't think we got a paragraph of him feeling guilt over it but that's somewhere toward the end so forget it. Yuuji is the absolute sweetest here and I adore every scene he's in along with how bratty he tends to be with Gojo. It's not frequent and most of the time he's pretty respectful but when he's not...Yeah. His inner thoughts and his conversations with most of the other characters really bring life to the story and you literally feel you're right there with him through it all.

Then there's the smut...oh. my. fucking. GOD. It's absolutely delicious. If you were iffy about it being omegaverse, I beg you to actually consider it cuz all probably more than four thousand words of it are fucking precious.

I had no idea I'd be into sex with some commentary when I began reading but the conversation from the characters picked was spot on and even added to the spicyness.

My favorite part is when Yuuji moans like a fucking pornstar and the zenin guy (forgot his disgusting ass name) goes "The boy is a whore."

Like boohoo bitch just say you wish you were getting all that, I wish I was (╥﹏╥)

If you're still iffy about the Omegaverse trust me it's not that big of a deal, the focus is mainly on Gojo and Yuuji trying to find some mutual ground to get on so the consummation isn't fucking awkward but by talking, joking, and getting to know each other something even more starts to blossom.

There are definitely traces of insta love but I personally see it as a weird mixture of attraction and possessiveness but this book is just like the prelude to the main course which is the second part in the series which I'm not done with yet but fucking hell...all the intrigue and tension that you will find in Love, or Something Ignites, gets doubled with more angst and mystery in the second fic, along with goyuu being stupid as well as stupidly in love.

So give it a try, and if you have, let me know what you think. I'd usually say where the tiny flaws are but for this book there are none...unless you count Yuta being Maki's mate instead of Rika's but that's my personal hill to die on. Let me know if there's a fic you want me to write about and I'll maybe get to it

Well, that's all from me today, it's 3 am and I'm fucking exhausted.

#anime #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 struggles #jjk #writeblr #goyuu #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x itadori #fic rec #fic reviews #masterpiece

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