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jjngkook7 · 28 days

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Choices (7)

Werewolf Au! Jungkook x Reader / Enemies to Lovers [Angst and mature content. Not smut but almost smut.]

Summary: Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she’s a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

You groaned as you finally shut off your alarm. After hitting the snooze button four times, you only had 30 minutes to get ready for work. As you dragged yourself out of bed and into your washroom, you thought about your dream last night. It was still a nightmare but not as gruesome as it usually was. Entering your washroom, you grimaced at the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyebags were heavy and your skin flat and colorless. Due to your inability to get up on time, you could only afford to wash your face and brush your hair if you wanted to at least have a coffee before work. Oh, the joys of Monday’s.

It seemed like your morning really set a precedent on how the rest of your day was going to be. You were 15 minutes late to work because of traffic, you forgot about a meeting that you set up and lunch was a bag of chips because you forgot your wallet at home. Needing to leave the chaos of the office, you decided to eat your sad lunch at a park. You ignored how cold your bottom was getting against the park bench as you watched the people around you go about their day.

“Rough day at the office?” an all too familiar voice asked.

You looked up and locked eyes with Jungkook. Great, now I'm hallucinating. If having visions of Jungkook wasn’t bad enough already, he looked better than you remembered. His hair was a little longer now and his eyes bright amber.

“Hello?” Jungkook waved his hand in front of you.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. A jolt of electricity shoots through you.

“Oh you are real…oh my god! You’re-what are you doing here?!” it felt like you had just went through all five stages of grief in a nanosecond.

Jungkook watched in real time as the sleep vanishes from your eyes. He waits for you to collect yourself before taking a seat next to you on the bench. His body shivered not from the cold but from the sudden energy radiating between both of you. After being away for so long, he forgot just how strong the pull of a mate was.

“Aren't you cold?” you asked bewildered by how he was only in a long sleeve and jeans.

Jungkook wanted to laugh. He knew you were probably freezing from how pale your fingers were. He also noticed the tiredness on your face and wondered if you had been sleeping at all.

“How long do you have left for your lunch break?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“20 minutes.” you replied.

Jungkook nods and quickly tried to figure out how to tell you that your life was in danger and that the only way to save you was to live with him for a bit and let him mark you.

“I think we’re going to need more than 20 minutes,” he says.

Jungkook was able to explain the situation to you within 20 minutes, leaving out the part where he had to mark you. The argument that happened afterwards lasted 30 minutes. You couldn’t just move to the mountains when you had a job to show up to and who was going to pay rent for the unit you were already living in? In the same breath, Jungkook explained that it was dangerous to live so close to civilization in case there was an attack and shared how much he didn’t want to live with you.

“Do you not hear the absurdity of what you’re asking me to do?” you argued.

“Do you think I want to do this?” Jungkook sneered.

“Then don’t!” you exclaimed.

“Fine!” he shouted, matching the volume of your voice.

“Fine!” you shouted back before marching back to your office, your bag of chips forgotten on the bench.

__________________________________

Jungkook adjusted his cap as he waited for you to leave your house. He rolled his eyes when he heard your alarm ring for the third time signifying that you had no intention of getting up. You’re going to be late again idiot.

After your guys’ encounter at the park, Namjoon reamed Jungkook out for being stubborn and doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. They came up with a compromise that Jungkook hated even more than the original plan. Night and day, Jungkook would essentially watch you from afar in case a rogue decided to attack. He’d follow you to work, to the grocery store and home. At night, Jungkook would make rounds around your neighborhood until late and then head back to his own home before repeating it all again the next day. Before he knew it, Jungkook's life revolved around you now.

“One more snooze and you would’ve been screwed.” Jungkook grinned when you opened the door.

Biting your tongue, you locked the front door before making your way past him. You were already running on a couple hours of sleep and seeing Jungkook’s shit eating grin this early in the morning made you want to scream. Unbeknownst to Jungkook, your sleep schedule had gotten worse now that you knew your life was at risk. If you were lucky, you’d only wake up twice in the night. Despite the lack of privacy, knowing that Jungkook was around just in case anything happened did give you some sort of reassurance. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you kind of liked having him around. Sure, he’d make your anger spike anytime he spoke but his presence added some excitement to your daily mundane routine. When you were out and about, you’d try to spot him in a crowd like a game of “Where’s Waldo”. It was getting harder for Jungkook to hide his amusement anytime you would find him because when you did, you’d stick out your tongue at him. He did noticed that you continued to look more and more tired than before. He had wondered what was causing you so much stress but pushed the thought away because that wasn’t part of the job description.

As you stood in front of your office building, you turned your head to see where Jungkook was. Scanning through the crowd of people on their way to work, you finally locked eyes with him and inhaled sharply. It was always a sensation overload whenever you looked at him because his amber eyes would pierce right through you. After the initial shock, a smile crept onto your face. Jungkook was trying to keep a low profile with his all black outfit and baseball cap but he didn’t realize how much he stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone bustling through were clad in thick winter coats and layers upon layers just to keep warm yet there he was standing at the end of the block with nothing but a black flannel button up and jeans. With one more glance, you made your way into your building excited to see him again later. Once you were out of sight, Jungkook immediately made a quick dash back to your house. Last night, Jungkook picked up the faintest scent of a rogue, but this morning the smell strong and near.

As he approached your home, he slowed down and tried to process what he was smelling and sensing carefully. Fortunately, he only picked up the scent of one rogue but the claw marks on the side of your house and fresh tracks in the snow meant that Jungkook was a little too late.

Usually, Jungkook kept his distance when he would follow you around but something must’ve happened between the morning and now because he was walking right beside you. It wasn’t the brushing of your bodies when you bumped into each other that formed the butterflies in your stomach but his hand on your lower back leading you home that did it. Jungkook kept you almost right up against him and you felt embarrassed for relishing in both his touch and smell. It was concerning how much you didn’t care about your safety when being this close to him felt so good. On the flipside, Jungkook could not afford to have his attention waver for even a second. He had to somehow cut through all the sounds and smells of the city just to pick up a stray whiff of any rogues. Jungkook was glad to have his attention focused elsewhere than on how your body was reacting to him. If he thought about it too much, his ego would grow too large for him to handle. You were usually so difficult to deal with and so stubborn but all he had was one hand on your lower back and you were compliant to his every word. Would you still be such a pain in the ass if you were under him? Could you possibly talk back if you were writhing from his touch? And what could you possibly say when he’s shoved down your throat?

“Do not open the door unless it’s me.” Jungkook ordered before pushing you into your house and slamming the door shut.

You take a moment to calm your heart. All you could think about was how his hand eventually wrapped around your waist and how strong his grip was. Once the high wore off, you dragged yourself upstairs to get ready for your night feeling less scared than you should. If Jungkook could muster through his hatred for you to keep you safe on the way home, you knew that you were in good hands.

You stirred awake and checked the time on your phone. 2:05am. You plopped your head back onto your pillow and tried to get back to sleep. You tried to still your mind but the heavy pitter patter against your window made it hard to do. Guess I'm awake now. Luckily, you didn't have work tomorrow so you and your insomnia could be friends for a night. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair as you stared out the window. You wondered if Jungkook was still outside or if he went home. If he was still here, he'd be soaked to the bone. Do werewolves catch colds? Putting on your slippers, you made your way to the front door and opened it. You scanned the driveway and sidewalk but with how heavy the rain was falling, it was hard to see. You took a step outside to see if he was around the corner but before you could turn your head, Jungkook himself appeared from the other side of where you were looking.

"I thought I told you not to open this door." he sighed annoyingly.

You felt your throat go dry when you saw him. He was dripping from head to toe and you envied the way his shirt clung onto his body.

"It's raining really hard and I didn't know if you were still outside." you said after prying your eyes away from his body.

"I told you to keep the door closed unless it's for me." he argued.

"Yeah well it is for you because I wanted to check up on you, god." you bite back. Jungkook had such a sour attitude but he truly was such a sight for your sore tired eyes.

You look over his shoulder and see that the rain was pouring even harder with no plans to stop. Had he just been patrolling your place since you finished work? Supernatural or not, Jungkook shouldn't be standing around in this weather.

"You should come in and rest." you said, after much consideration.

Jungkook immediately shook his head and backed away from you, "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're soaking wet! And besides, you've been roaming around for hours and if my neighbours get suspicious they might call the cops." you challenged.

Jungkook falls silent and you see his eyes shift from side to side, trying to look for something that wasn't there.

"Jungkook you've been out here since I got home. Whatever's out there would've gotten you by now. Please, just come inside and dry off for a little bit," you plead, "I won't be able to sleep knowing you're just out in the rain for no reason."

I'm out here for you. You're the fucking reason. Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheeks in thought. The invitation was tempting. He was absolutely exhausted and after staring at the dark day in and day out, his mind was starting to play tricks on him. Protecting you was one thing but his pride was bruised. All he did for the past few hours was ruminate on how he didn't see or smell the rogue. He wanted to crush the thing and kill it with his bare hands to make up for his inattentiveness, but he was tired. You took his silence as compliance and stepped aside so he could come in. Before Jungkook could mentally brace himself, the overwhelming smell of you sent his senses into overdrive. He placed a hand against the wall and took deep breaths. Every time he inhaled, it felt like his brain was going to pop out of his skull. The lights were too bright, the sound of the rain too loud and your scent was so strong he could almost taste you.

"Are you okay...?" you asked as you slowly closed the door.

Jungkook's back and the tension throughout his body brought you back to when you found him in that abandoned shed. You mentally cursed wondering if tonight was going to be another repeat. To your surprise, Jungkook managed to compose himself and turned around to face you. From how his usual amber eyes were now maroon, you knew he still wasn't quite back.

"W-where is your washroom? I'm going to clean up." he asked, his voice strained.

You direct him to your washroom and watch as he staggered away. When you heard the sink turn on, you quickly ran to your room to grab what you could to prepare the sofa for him. As you searched through your closet for an extra blanket, it quickly dawned on you that Jungkook was in your house and was going to stay the night. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of all the embarrassing things you owned. When you finally found your extra blanket, you suppressed a groan at the Sanrio characters decorating the duvet. He's here to rest not judge your choice of home decor. You grab a pillow from your bed and made your way back to the living room. As you were setting up the couch, you noticed the mess of cups and candy wrappers on the coffee table. If you knew that you would house a werewolf that was supposedly your soulmate, you would've cleaned up a bit more. Pushing the thought away, you made your way towards the bathroom where Jungkook hadn't made a sound. He's not dead is he? You took a deep breath before bravely poking your head through the door to check on him. The sight before you literally stole the inhale you had just taken away. You had imagined Jungkook shirtless many times before but your imagination was truly nothing compared to what he looked like in real life. Jungkook was leaned over the sink, his wet shirt by his feet as he wiped his chest with your towel with one hand. Every time he brushed his hand against his body, the muscles in his arms flexed. The raindrops cascading down the curves of his shoulder blades and back polluted your mind with lewd scenarios.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Jungkook scoffed.

You mumbled a pathetic apology as your eyes continued trailing down his body. The deep gash on his arm reeled you out of your perverted psyche. Without thinking, you quickly approached him and inspected his wound.

"Jungkook, you need to go to the hospital." you gasp at how torn up his arm looked.

"Please." Jungkook almost laughed.

You shoot him a look and push him aside to grab the first aid kit under the sink. Jungkook watched in amusement as you rummaged through your kit to find something to treat his wound. You seemed to forget that he was not of this world. This injury would heal in a week and a bandaid was not going to help.

"Give me you arm." you demanded setting a tube of polysporin and bandage wraps on the counter.

Jungkook raised his brow, "Are you going to make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup and put on my favourite cartoon as well?"

How this asshole was your soulmate was beyond you by how quickly he was able to bring you to anger within seconds. Jungkook could hate you all he wanted, but he didn't have to make you feel useless while doing so. For the past week and a half, he was literally supervising you like you were a child and it made you feel so foolish.

"Can you just let me do something for once? Just let me-" you exhaled with closed eyes, "let me feel like I'm helping for once."

Jungkook let out a sarcastic "ok" and surrendered his arm to you. You unscrewed the cap from the polysporin and wanted to kick yourself for dropping it during the process. It was really hard to focus when he was staring at you in his shirtless glory. Ignoring the fallen cap, you pushed out the ointment onto your finger and reached for his arm. The jolt you usually received whenever you guys touched made you flinch.

"You're okay." Jungkook encouraged after feeling the power from the shock himself.

Biting your lower lip, you gently grabbed his arm again and waited a few seconds for the sensation to pass before rubbing the medicine onto his cut. Jungkook watched are you carefully tended to him. In his absorption of your actions, he couldn't feel the corner of his lip turning upwards and the silencing of his mind. All he could hear was your breathing and if he focused a little more, the fluttering of your eyelashes as you blinked. It was endearing watching you meticulously layer the bandage perfectly on his arm. The treatment you were giving Jungkook was going to do absolutely nothing for him besides make him itchy. His species didn't heal like humans. They were able to heal on their own and if they were mated, their healing time was even quicker. You released the bite you had on your lower lip once you successfully wrapped him up.

"I'll let you do your own thing now," you laughed awkwardly stepping away from him, "There are extra towels under the sink and the sofa is all set up for you."

Jungkook holds your eyes for a few seconds and you see that they're back to their usual amber colour.

"Goodnight," he nods.

"Goodnight," you repeat before retreating back to your room.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you slept through the night.

You woke up a lot earlier than you intended to but you felt refreshed. You didn't have any nightmares, in fact, you didn't dream at all. You graciously welcomed the daylight that usually disturbed your already horrible sleep shining through your window. As you put on your slippers, the butterflies in your stomach swarmed when you remembered that Jungkook had slept over. You sat on the edge of your bed and slapped your cheeks from how hard you were grinning. He was probably gone by now but you were going to spend the whole weekend replaying last night in privacy. You giddily swing your bedroom door open and immediately froze. You held your breath and didn't move a single muscle as to not wake the sleeping Jungkook on your couch. After an agonizing minute, you quietly approached him with pursed lips. He was sound asleep with his mouth slightly agape. When Jungkook wasn't speaking or awake in general, he sure looked like an angel. The skittish grin you had on earlier crept back at the sight of him all curled up in your Sanrio blanket. Jungkook rarely let his guard down yet here he was sleeping so peacefully in your home. He had to ability to hear a pin drop in a crowded room so judging by how he didn't wake up from the slight noises you made, poor guy was probably drained. You desperately fought the desire to brush his bangs away from his eyes and left to go wash up instead.

You rolled your eyes when you see the bandage you so caringly put on Jungkook last night in the garbage next to your toilet. You couldn't at least flush it down or hide it? Ass. Still, he let you tend to him and that was good enough for you. Jungkook was still asleep by the time you finished your morning routine. You crept back into your room and decided to clean up. You had completely ignored the state of your home with the little sleep you were getting every night. You looked over to your laundry basket by the window that had been taunting you for weeks and decided to finally tackle it. Sitting down in front of it, you began to sort your white and coloured clothes. As you thought about the things you wanted to get done today, you began to feel excited about the prospect of having a productive weekend when your bedroom door suddenly swung open, the hinges breaking in the process. A frantic looking Jungkook entered followed by a curse when he saw where you positioned.

"Get behind me right now!" he shouted.

Your body and brain freezes from the sudden shock, "W-what?"

"Can you fucking listen to me for once and just-"

Your bedroom window shatters and a black mass breaks through. A scream emits from you when the rogue snaps at your arms. You scramble backwards as the creature attempts to wedge its body through the fracture it created. If you were any closer, you would've been a goner. The absolute depravity of the monster fills your entire body up with fear as flashbacks from the first time you ever encountered a rogue replay in your mind. You couldn't feel your legs and all you could do was scramble back as far as you could go. Tears immediately flood your eyes when the creature snarls and breaks free of the glass that was holding it back. There was absolutely nothing you could do as the creature lunges towards you, the smile it has on it's face seared into your brain. Another scream escapes from you as Jungkook grabs its neck and slams it onto your bedroom floor. Your stomach turns when you see it squirm abnormally under his grasp. The rogue produces high pitched cackling as Jungkook delivers blow after blow to its face.

"Close your eyes." Jungkook orders and you do as you're told.

You choke out a sob when you hear the sick animal laugh as Jungkook tears its flesh apart and breaks its bones. Eventually, the room falls silent but you keep your eyes shut afraid of what you might see. You jump when Jungkook places his hands on your arms.

"Hey it's just me, it's me. It's okay, it's over now." he attempts to soothe you while grabbing your hands, halting your useless attempts to push him away.

When you finally come to, you grab onto him and push your face into his chest. Jungkook tells you to keep your eyes closed as he carries you into the living room, not wanting you to see the aftermath of what he did. He holds your trembling body as tightly as he can and waits for your sobbing to subside. Once he hears your sobs turn into sniffles, he lifts your face from your hands and through your teary vision, you see an apologetic expression plastered on his face.

"I'm packing a bag for you. Tell me what you need, we leave in 20 minutes." he says.

You try to fight against his hold, but he's much stronger than you.

"Jungkook! I can't leave-I can't-"

"We don't have a choice now," he says, his voice soft as ever, "this is the only way I can protect you."

#bts fanfic #jungkook werewolf #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts werewolf au #bts smut #bts #jungkook smut #yoongi #jimin #namjoon #taehyung #hoseok #jin #bts x reader #jungkook werewolf au #choices

320 notes · View notes

fragileheartbeats · 6 days

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶ㅤ۫ㅤ𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘓𝘦𝘦, 𝘏𝘢𝘭, 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦, 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘴 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

Her skin, a canvas where perfection resides, Her hair, a cascade of silken tides. Her eyes, a mirror reflecting boundless depths, A universe of emotions, where love intercepts. Her voice, a symphony that soothes the soul, Its melody enchanting, making his spirit whole. Her laughter, a tinkling bell's sweet refrain, A melody that chases away all pain. He worships her as a deity of love, His heart surrenders, soaring like a dove. Her presence fills him with a sacred light, Guiding his path through life's murky night. With every breath he takes, her image lingers, An ethereal vision that sets his heart aflutter. Her existence a gift, beyond compare, A masterpiece of beauty, forever to share. He gazes at her with eyes filled with awe, Lost in her radiance, his soul in tow. Her smile, a beacon of hope and cheer, Dispelling darkness, casting out fear. In her embrace, he finds solace and peace, A sanctuary where his worries cease. Her touch, a gentle caress that sets him free, Healing wounds with its tender alchemy. He cherishes her laughter, prizes her tears, For in her presence, his world fills with cheers. She is his goddess, his guiding star, The love of his life, forever near and far. Through life's trials, he vows to stand by her side, His unwavering devotion, a constant guide. For in her love, he finds his greatest worth, A treasure he'll protect with all his heart's girth.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐀 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬

In his heart's embrace, a tender soul resides, A confectioner's dream, sweetened with love's tides. His eyes behold a goddess, radiant and bright, Her every smile, a beacon that banishes the night. Like chocolate's rich aroma, his love fills the air, A fragrant symphony that conquers all care. Each glance from her eyes, a sip of pure delight, Melts his being to a state of dreamy flight. Her voice, a cascade of notes that dance in his ear, A sweet serenade that fills him with cheer. Her laughter echoes, as if bells ring with glee, A celestial chorus, etching her image in his memory. Her skin is as smooth as velvet, so soft to the touch, As if crafted from petals, untouched and unsmirched. Her hair cascades like a stream of molten gold, Ensnaring his heart in its shimmering hold. Her lips, a confection of sweetness, tempt his desire, A tantalizing treat that sets his soul afire. In her embrace, he finds solace and relief, His sugary paradise, banishing all grief. He worships the ground she treads upon with grace, Her every step a dance, a mesmerizing chase. Her smile, a beacon that guides him through the darkest night, Illuminating his path with its radiant light. Her mind is a treasure trove, wisdom flows unbound, Her words like honey, healing every wound. Her intellect captivates, her spirit soars, A paragon of beauty, unmatched in all time's doors. With every beat of his heart, his love grows stronger still, A tapestry of emotions, vibrant and true to fill. He's her devoted knight, ready to conquer all, His love for her, an unquenchable, eternal call. He envisions their future, a sugary delight, Filled with laughter, adventures, and love's gentle might. Together, they'll create memories as sweet as chocolate dreams, A lifetime of indulgence, fulfilling all their whims. Oh, sweet chocolatier, forever under her spell, His heart's desire, a goddess who captivates his soul so well. In her presence, he finds joy, contentment, and grace, An eternal love story, written on time's sweet embrace.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬

Her every movement, a symphony of grace, Her laughter, a melody that fills his space. He watches from afar, his hunger gnawing, Yearning to possess her, her essence craving. But as reverence turns to possession's lust, He succumbs to a sin, a sacrifice unjust. With each morsel he consumes, her flesh so sweet, His love becomes a horror, a ravenous retreat. He whispers words of adoration as he feasts, His teeth sinking deep, a macabre release. Her eyes, once so radiant, now glazed with dread, As he feeds on her essence, leaving her for dead. In the aftermath, a hollow ache remains, A cruel mockery of the love he feigned. He mourns the goddess he created in his mind, His sorrow a bitter echo, his heart confined. Her bones, once pristine, now a grisly reminder, Of the depravity that love can hinder. He caresses them with trembling hands, a mournful plea, Seeking a connection, a memory to decree. The world judges harshly, their voices a condemning cry, But he remains unyielding, his madness soaring high. For in his eyes, she was not just a mere flesh, But a deity he loved beyond his own death. Haunted by her absence, his spirit wilts, Each passing day, his sanity tilts. He wanders the streets, a pariah outcast, Carrying the burden of his horrific repast. In the depths of his despair, a flicker of remorse, A realization that his actions were coarse. But forgiveness eludes him, his soul forever stained, By the love he destroyed, the life he profaned.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐋 ─ ♕ . ♡𝆬

Her touch, a gentle breeze caressing, Awakening dreams, with blessings blessing. Her laughter, music to his ears, Dispelling sorrows, quenching fears. He led her through the throne room's grace, Where tapestries depicted their embrace. A queen, a goddess, his heart's desire, He'd fallen for her with burning fire. Her virtues, pure as driven snow, Her kindness warmed him, made his soul glow. He worshipped her, not as a mortal maid, But as a celestial being, unafraid. He'd bow his head to gaze into her eyes, Seeing heaven's reflection, a paradise. Her hair, a silken waterfall so fine, Cascading gently, entwined like vines. He'd whisper sonnets filled with fervent praise, Exalting her beauty, a celestial maze. Her smile, a radiant dawn's embrace, A sight that stole his breath, a timeless trace. In hallowed halls, he held her close and dear, His love for her unwavering, crystal clear. He sought her pleasure, her utmost joy, Delighting in her presence, without alloy. The courtly whispers echoed through the halls, Of a king's devotion that shattered all walls. He'd consecrate his realm to her name, His love eternal, an unquenchable flame.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ─ ⛥ . ♡𝆬

Her presence, a perfume, sweet and ethereal, A celestial melody, soft and ethereal. Her voice, a symphony, enchanting and pure, A tender whisper that his every desire lures. Her eyes, a universe of dreams unfurled, Where constellations dance and stardust's whirled. Their gaze, a spell that binds him forevermore, A love profound that knows no bounds nor shore. Her touch, a brush of paradise on his skin, As if a seraph's touch had come to kin. It sparks a flame within, a fire that burns bright, An ardent devotion, day and darkest night. He marvels at her wisdom, deep and true, Her spirit, soaring like an eagle's view. Her grace and poise, a celestial art, A masterpiece of nature, a treasure from the start. He sees not flaws, but only radiant light, A goddess descended from celestial heights. His heart, her temple, where he offers his all, A sanctuary of devotion, an eternal thrall. In her embrace, he finds solace and rest, A sanctuary where his weary soul is blessed. Her laughter echoes through his world like a chime, Dispelling shadows, restoring hope sublime. With every glance, his love grows stronger yet, A tapestry woven with threads of pure delight. He sings her praises, a poet's soul unfurled, For she is his goddess, the jewel of his world.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 ─ ♬ . ♡𝆬

In his eyes, she was a goddess fair, Her presence graced his world beyond compare. Like a beacon in the darkest night, Her love ignited a flame so bright. He adored her every move, Her laughter filled his heart with glee. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, A reminder of her beauty, divine. His thoughts were filled with her allure, Each moment spent with her, he cherished pure. Her smile, a balm for weary eyes, Her presence, a solace, a gentle prize. He danced to her every whim, His heart her captive, forever dim. Her desires, his command, Her worship, his sacred brand. He painted her in vibrant hues,Her eyes twinkled like distant dews. Her skin, like velvet, soft and smooth, He loved her with a passion, uncouth. In his shrine, her image stood tall, A symbol of his devotion, his all. He whispered prayers to her at night, Begging for her constant, eternal light. Her every breath was like a song, Her voice carried melodies that danced along. He would listen for hours, transfixed, In her presence, his soul grew rich.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ─ ✉ . ♡𝆬

With each stolen glance, a symphony played, A melody woven from the threads of her gaze. Her ivory skin, a canvas for his desire, A tapestry adorned with embers of fire. Her voice, a celestial choir soaring high, Whispering truths that made his spirit fly. Her presence, a celestial balm, so sweet, A refuge from the storms that raged at his feet. In her eyes, he saw his own reflection, A mirror of his soul's hidden perfection. She held his broken pieces with gentle care, Rekindling a flame that had once burned bright. Her laughter, a sparkling cascade of bliss, Banishing shadows with its ethereal kiss. Her smile, a beacon that guided him through, A radiant sunrise illuminating the true. With trembling hands, he touched her silken hair, Like brushing petals, a touch beyond compare. Her every gesture, a masterpiece unfurled, An endless canvas where his love unfurled. He worshiped her beauty, an eternal vow, A sacred flame that forever would glow. Her body, a temple, a vessel divine, A haven where his soul would forever entwined. Lost in the labyrinth of her embrace, His heart found solace, a tranquil space. She was his muse, his inspiration eternal, His goddess, his guiding star, his celestial eternal.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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madeinparadis · 4 months

Text

NIGHTLY SORROWS | THOMAS SHELBY

pairing: thomas shelby × reader

tw: grief (reader is dead), angst

word count: 724

masterlist: all characters

a/n: this is more of a drabble, just a little something i wrote before bed. italics signal a flashback/memory.

Far into the winter, all of Birmingham was covered in fog and cold. The houses were dimly illuminated by the bleak sunshine during the day, then engulfed by darkness in the later hours, and Arrow House was no exception, looking and feeling particularly gloomy. Despite all efforts done by staff to make it warm and hospitable for its owner, the most important part of it was lost forever, and could never be replaced- you.

The clock on the bedside table read one o'clock. Tommy sat in what was once your shared bed, now only his. His mind was playing tricks on him yet again, clouding his conscience with visions of you, the feeling of longing and regret leaving a bad taste on his tongue.

No matter the circumstances, Thomas Shelby wouldn't ever say he is an emotional or sensitive man. With all the horrors he's seen, all the men he's brutally murdered, the business he leads, there was just no space in his life for feelings. Even so, that doesn't mean they didn't plague him- in fact, they took over his mind at every given chance. Every time he let himself breathe and relax his muscles, he was taken there, to a place where you exposed the thoughts and emotions buried the deepest in his consciousness.

"Tom?" you called, a smile painted on your face. Oh, this was one of his favourite memories. "Look, I want you to see this." your request caught his attention, making him glance up at you, taking notice of the new garments on your frame. "What do you think?" you gestured at your outfit. "The seamstress finished it earlier today. I'm thinking of wearing it the charity event next week."

If only he didn't take you to that ball...

"It looks perfect. you're always beautiful, love." Tommy replied, watching you change back into your nightgown, joining him in bed- back when it was still both his and yours to share.

"Fuck." he spoke in a low, tired tone. He had to get his shit together, stop reminiscing, he thought to himself. Well, perhaps later he would- for now, he wanted to keep you around, in whatever way possible.

The hours went by as Thomas drowned himself with work in the office, a poor attempt to drown out the thought of you. He got up from his chair, dragging his tired self to the cabinet and pouring himself a glass of whisky. Sitting behind the desk again, he drank up the contents of the glass in one uninterrupted take, setting it on the wooden desk quite harshly.

For a second, his head was empty. Then, there you were- the vision of your ghost like an oasis sighting to him. You took a step closer to him, standing behind the office desk as you rested your hands on his shoulders, earning a relieved sigh from Tommy, who leaned into your touch almost desperately.

"Did you miss me, darling?" Your voice was like medicine to his soul, making the pain drift away while he heard it- except it made his heart ache even more after, when he was reminded you weren't truly there anymore.

"Everyday, love." He replied with a tormented tone.

"You know you can't keep living like this, Tom. Our son needs a father." You spoke softly. "He needs you."

"There's no joy in this house without you, (y/n). Charlie misses you just like me, everyday."

You remained silent for some time, offering comfort with your touch rather than words. Tommy accepted every gesture of yours, taking every second he could get with you.

"It's not your fault, Tom. There was nothing you could do to prevent that bullet from reaching me." You spoke up again, kneeling down until your lips reached his ear. "Do you remember my last request to you, just before I died?"

"To be good to Charlie, take care of him." The expression on his face was pained as he answered your question, reminding him of your last moments on earth.

"Exactly. Have you gotten him a horse yet?"

"Yes. I bought him one for Christmas, a good breed."

"That's good. Be patient with him, Tom. He's got a strong-willed spirit like yours."

Tommy felt your lips on his cheek, looking up to see your face. But just like that, you were gone once more.

#madeinlisbon #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy x reader #peaky blinders #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #charlie shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #grace shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #winter #angst #drabble #my writing

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jeannineee · 10 months

Note

Hi! could you please do #3, #12, B and D for Rhys (with a happy ending)?

Thank you!

Solace

Rhysand x Reader

a/n: each of these angst drabbles are destroying me lolol. I have like 5 more angst requests for Lucien, Azriel, and Cassian, so I’m gonna close it there for now!! You guys can still request other things, just not angst please lmao.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, near death experience

B: character death/near death experience

D: Confession of love

3: “Please don’t leave me alone.”

12: “Who did this to you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The searing pain in your gut was unlike anything you had ever felt.

You’d heard stories, of what it felt like to be stabbed.

Hot. Burning. Throbbing. Like a punch to the gut.

But for some reason, you didn’t feel any pain.

You felt a bit cold, perhaps. But that’s because your blood was running down your stomach, and it was freezing outside.

Dizziness, for sure. But the tree you leaned against helped keep you upright.

Nausea. That was a big one. Your knees screamed at you as you collided with the ground, hurling the contents of your stomach.

Not the contents of your stomach. Blood.

You spit on the ground. More blood.

You stared at the blood on the ground, as though it were some foreign substance you’d never seen in your life.

Was this shock? It had to be. You were far too calm—

“Y/n? Fuck! Oh, shit…Mor! I need help!”

You turned lazily to find a horrified Rhys standing a foot away from you.

“Rhys,” you slurred, trying and failing to pick yourself up from the ground.

Rhys fell to his knees, laying you back against the tree.

The delirium waned, and the agony kicked in as he held pressure on your wound.

Tears stung your eyes, and you bit back a cry of pain as your blood gathered around Rhys’s hands.

“Who did this to you?” Rhys questioned, sheer terror in his voice.

You shook your head, unable to bring yourself to speak. You didn’t get a good look at the man. You’d been scouting the Illyrian Steppes for Hybern’s spies. You weren’t expecting to actually find one.

Exhaustion nestled through your bones, heavy and unrelenting. You’d never felt so tired.

Rhys grabbed your chin, eyes wide with fear. “Hey! Do not fall asleep. Do you hear me? Stay awake.”

“‘M trying…” you reply, yelping slightly as Rhys continued assessing your wound. “I’m scared, Rhys. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will never leave you,” Rhys said, his words even and sure. “Just—stay awake. Please.”

Tears streamed down Rhys’s face as you began to lose consciousness.

“I need you. I need you more than anything. I cannot live without you. Stay awake,” he begged.

Rhys’s voice was little more than a whisper in the back of your mind as darkness swept you into its peaceful embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A single, silvery thread came into vision amidst the blackness that engulfed your very being.

At one end: nothingness. Though you didn’t fear it. It seemed…warm. Gentle. Simple.

At the other end…that was complicated. There was fear and grief and hatred and uncertainty.

But there was joy. And compassion. And love.

And Rhysand.

So you grasped for that thread. You heaved and pulled and tugged until—

“Y/n, darling,” Rhys murmured, his eyes red, face wet with tears.

You tried to sit up from the infirmary bed, but Rhys’s strong hands kept you down.

“I couldn’t feel you anymore. The bond. I couldn’t feel you,” his voice cracked as he wept.

You met his eyes as your own tears began to fall, placing his hand over your chest. You knew there weren’t any words that would bring solace to him in this moment.

Rhys kept his hand over your heart as he brushed his lips on your forehead. His voice was soft as he pulled back.

“My mate.”

#acotar #acotar headcanon #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acosf #Rhys x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #Rhys angst #high lord of the night court #acotar angst #Rhysand #angst

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railroad-migraine · 7 months

Note

Hey Poet ♥️ I had to put my bird and companion of 12 years to sleep earlier today... I was hoping it would be okay to request Molly, Kingsley, Ashton and Caduceus comforting a Ranger SO (friend in Cad’s case) who had their beast companion pass away? I hope it’s not too grim of a prompt, thanks a lot either way! And thank you for what you do, your lovely writing brings joy to many people :)

Oh darling I'm so sorry. We also recently had a family pet put to sleep and it is very hard, but know that you provided your lil friend a wonderful life and that's something to make it easier as time passes 🩶

Comforting Ranger!GN!Reader

Ashton 💚

Is the shoulder to cry on that you've always needed. They're a strong presence, someone reliable to lean on, something physical and real to keep you grounded and help you not lose yourself in feelings.

They say they have difficulty with words, but Ashton surprises even himself with the soft tone and even softer things he offers you. Little phrases of encouragement, of how things will get better, and how you're not going to carry this alone. You have him and friends who care about you - he ignores the hot feeling in his face when your teary eyes meet his upon the confession - and pulls you into their side with a soft "I got you."

Caduceus 💜

Arguably the best person on the list to console you after losing someone you held dear. If it's something you'd like, he'll organise a little ceremony - allow memories of the good and fun moments shared with your companion to take centre stage. It's a happy occasion, with friends in attendance, a celebration of their life, their love, and how they made a home in your heart.

Cad takes time out of his day to sit with you, share tea and treats and the quiet tranquility of his porch, content to give you silent support but even more eager to offer counsel if that's what you seek. He understands how you're feeling, and guides you through them with careful, attentive ease.

Molly 💜

He knows what it's like to mourn a life, be that of a friend's or the past that he will never truly know. He makes sure that as you're processing this change in your life, that you continue to look after yourself. He ensures that you eat, even if you don't feel hungry. He washes your hair and cleans your face, helps you change into fresh clothes, coaxes you outdoors to feel warm sunlight on your skin. He wants to remind you to keep living, to enjoy it just as your pet beast did.

Life moves on. It always will. Your animal came into your life unexpectedly, just as you came into Molly's life. He's there for you, to get you through the day, the week, the month, and beyond. It happens gradually, as all wounds heal, but eventually he sees you smile at him more and he knows it hurts a little less. He smiles back, all teeth and pride for you.

Kingsley 💜

He's still discovering the big emotions that come with experiencing life. Grief is one of them. He fumbles in the beginning, and is scared to say anything in the fear of hurting you further, but he feels more confident after you melt into his arms and let him hold you for who knows how long. He realises later that a distraction can help further along healing.

So that's what Kingsley does. He spends more time with you, takes you sailing and has you steer the ship (with his professional supervision of course). He drags you into dances along the desk and sings you songs before bed. He holds your hand as you fall asleep, and tells you how grateful he is that you're there with him. Thanks you for giving him that - just as you have your familiar that.

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thebottomfromhell · 4 months

Note

I read your Hantengu smut post from a while ago and I love the dynamic of him being with a teasing partner!!!! Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!

I can just imagine the grief reader would give him. Oops, undergarment flash! Oh, that’s my chest pressing against you! Woah, my hand slipped and gave you a little spank!

Welcome to a new episode of let's bully Hantengu (main body)! On the other hand, I'm glad you liked the post (even if idk which Hantengu smut post is 😅), I hope you also like this one.

Dynamic of Hantengu with a teasing/bully GN reader

Warnings: Slight bullying, Hantengu's... everything (+exagerating some things), Slight exposure of underwear, Implied sexual content and a Non-consented spank (ask for consent irl, people, ask if the other party is ok with it first).

Hantengu loves you, he loves you a lot. You are a spark of joy in his scary, miserable life, with your playful attitude and genuine, shameless, soul, how could he not? The problem is that, sometimes you get too playful, to the point he can keep up with it. Hantengu easily gets nervious, overwhealmed, anxious, scared or embarrassed, so maybe you could tone it down a bit? ....

Nah, what for? Honestly speaking, you like to see him startled, to hear him whine, sob and whimper, for him to tremble at the same time he holds into something or someone for comfort. He is so cute when he does, and so easy to tease you just have to. Just some words or touches are enough for hin to become a sweet mess only for you. Seriously, it's amazing this guy is supposed to be the fourth most dangerous demon after his king, because for you he is "My little crybaby. Do you want some cuddles, huh? Would you like me to make you feel better because everythin is swo scawy for Hantengu?"

He sobs again, burrying his face in your neck as his ears and face becomes each time more red, embarrased but not wanting to let go as you are both a source of comfort and grief. He doesn't even phantom how you can do it so easily, Karaku and Urogi he can get, they are an emotion so they can't really care about anything than enjoying things or do stuff they consider pleasurable. He doesn't know what is worse, when you use words or when you use your body to tease him.

It can be little things, like showing the side wings of the fudonshi over the pants, when you use them, having them showing off more the V line on your lower body. The first time it happened he made a little jump and a gasp, thankfuly none of the clones where there at the time, but it didn't help that you laughed about it, smirking. "Is something wrong? Did you see something?" In that second he couldn't move his eyes away as he started to tear up, you were still putting something on top, so he didn't know where to look.

"No, nothing!" And he looked away... for about an hour as he blushed violently and trembled, eyes closed hard and not a single breath coming out of his body. You laughed about it as you pressed yoursef against the back of his head, since he was sitting. "C'mon, love. Talk to me." He can feel your chest against him, and he starts sweating cold. "Y-Y-Y/N... Y/N your-" he stopped himself, not knowing how to call that body part in a way that is appropiate. "My... what? Tell me." Oh, you knew exactly what, but making Hantengu say it is way funnier. He stumbles in his own mouth, not managing to make out a single word as he blushes even harder and tears come out his eyes.

He is clearly overthinking. "What if I say it? Will it make me look like a pervert? Will Y/N accuse me of being one? I'm not a pervert! I didn't want to look! I didn't! I'm innocent!" And so on as he started breathing hard until you decided to have enough and started to comfort him, making him forget about it. Not that you didn't do it again, the exposed underwear was easily dealt with, he just stopped looking, moving his head everytime you were not using top or kimono. The body pressing was harder to get over from, but he just stays still when you do until you let him be or spice things up.

But then, it happened. Hantengu still has scars from when it happened, he never saw it comming. A normal night, he was just helping with something in the house, can't even remember what, and he was walking besides you, and the second he passed you... he felt it. Your hand hiting one of his buttlocks, making a loud noice as he feels the impact, tensing the second you make contact, face and ears heating up as an unnatural and miserable expresion takes over his face, throwing in the air the towels he was carrying as he lets a high pitched and even louder "EEEEEEEEEEAAAACK!! WHAT WAS THAT?!" feeling everything speeding up as he turns around to look at you, who was looking somewhere else, almost innocently.

"Hm? "What was" what?" He blushes harder as he doesn't know what to say. "You-you know... that." You try to keep your laugh to yourself, some choked chuckles scape, but you only smirk, face hurting in the process, as you ask again. "What?" You really want to laugh as tears start to form in his eyes, he just looks so lost, so cute and it's really hard to pretend you didn't do it when you both know you just spanked him. Hantengu starts to hug hinself as he starts subbing in confusion, a little inner though making him question if you may be actually telling the truth...

That though spirals as he breaks down into your arms. "I-I-I hat-hate you!" He days crying and you just had to tease more... leading to the current state. "Ok, shhh~ it's ok, I'm sorry. I am so sorry baby, I won't do it again, promise." He is having the grief of his life and you are having fun... he really hates you. It's always the same, you tease him and end up also comforting him. Why?! "A love you." You kiss the tumour in the top os his head as he calms down... that is why. He is trapoed like this, can't stand you but also can't have enough of you... he really hates you...

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #top reader #hantengu x reader #hantengu

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all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 11 months

Text

One Day, I’ll Say Hello

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: It keeps happening. Whenever he goes, Dean seems to bump into the same girl. Every time, he finds himself unable to speak to her. When he meets her again at the beach, everything finally makes sense.

Warning: Mention of grief, a bit of angst, crying, car accident, but also fluff, crack, and lots of sun bathing

Pairing: Dean x F!Reader

Word Count: 2869

A/n: Hello everyone! So this is the first fic I’m posting after my long hiatus! This is for @smellingofpoetry writing challenge, with the prompt “Feeling the warmth on your naked skin”. Big thank you to @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior for helping with correction, the title, and cheering me up!

"I'm starting to believe you're following me."

The voice startled him instantly, and his first instinct was to put his hand on his belt. But he found it empty, he left his gun in the car. Regardless, he didn't need it, not after he recognized who the voice belonged to.

"Well," a smirk drew across his face as he walked over to the source of the voice. "Looks like even fate wants us to stay together." Giving a wink he thought was devastating, Dean quickly lost his smile when he noticed the girl's expression. It clearly wasn’t the time to bother her, not again. "Oh, uhm, sorry, I think my flirting skills are rusty, I'll leave you be."

"No!" She sounded rushed, scared, even, of being left alone. "You're not bothering me. Stay, I'd love to have some company.”

The big, seductive smile back on his face, Dean took a few steps towards the girl. The sand was warm under his bare feet, and he accepted the feel of the grains sliding between his toes with joy. With each step, he felt like he was sinking deeper into the sand. But the closer he got to her, the warmer he felt.

Close enough but leaving a respectable distance between them, he dropped down to the ground, and set his shoes next to him. Then, in silence, they just enjoyed the moment.

It was very nice. The sun was beating down hard on their heads, but neither of them minded. It was a feeling he craved, and he laid on his back in the sand to let the warm rays settle on to the bit of exposed skin he offered up. The sounds of the waves moving in the distance, brought a calm sensation in his body.

“You know,” her voice finally broke the silence. “You would enjoy the sun a lot more if you were in a swimsuit.”

At these words, Dean smiled. "If you wanna see me naked, you can just say."

A laugh followed his comment. "Of course. My first desire when I meet someone is to see them naked. Nice try."

"For the record," he turned his head towards her, ignoring her last statement, "you're not really dressed for the beach either.”

The girl turned her head to stare at him, then lifted her sunglasses up to contemplate what she was wearing. Her shorts ended a little above the knee, and she had her tank top pulled up a bit, so she could feel the heat of the sun on her stomach.

"At least I'm getting more sun than you, with all those clothes and layers you've got on," she smiled, then rolled back into position, lying on her back with both arms extended to either side of her body. She sighed, content.

Dean couldn't help but study her; he didn't usually stare at people like that, but something about her made him curious in a way he hadn't been in a while. There was something special about her, and it wasn't only her stunning beauty.

He didn't know her that well, but…

As he continued to stare at her, the memories of their first meeting came flooding back to him.

Before

“Coffee for Y/n!”

Distracted by the current hunt he was dealing with - the apocalypse coming just around the corner, and his brother off god knew where - Dean wasn’t paying attention to the name being called flby the barista, or to the name written on the cup. Completely absorbed in his thoughts, he grabbed the coffee and headed for the exit, sipping on it.

“Blerg!” He immediately spat out the much too sweet drink. “Disgusting!”

"Uhm, sorry."

Too busy trying to come up with a stronger word than "disgusting" for the sugary concoction, Dean wasn't paying attention to the voice that spoke behind him; he simply continued on his way towards a trash can, ready to throw away the foul liquid.

“Hey!”

Suddenly, a hand entered his sight to grab the cup before he could throw it away.

"What's wrong with you!" He exclaimed, turning to the person who had just interrupted him. A multitude of insults were ready to cross his lips, but he forgot them all when he saw the person in front of him.

"What's wrong with me? Well, tell me - what's your name?"

He couldn't believe his eyes or ears. Not only had they made a mistake on his order, but now a stranger, who was far too charming, was stealing it from him when he was about to put it in the garbage? And now she was asking his name?

“Funny way to flirt, but okay, I'll bite. It’s Dean.” The hunter crossed his arms over his chest, puffing it out in an attempt to look more buff. But that only made the girl laugh as she took a sip of the sweet coffee. "Hey, that's mine!" he chastised.

“Next time you order a coffee, Dean, make sure it’s your name on the cup.”

Completely taken aback, Dean didn't have time to react or reply before the stranger was leaving. He only caught a quick glimpse of the name written on the cup before she was gone.

It definitely wasn’t Dean.

“Son of a bitch.”

It was not the only time he crossed paths with the woman. The same day, a few hours later, he was back at the motel doing research on his computer for the current hunt when suddenly everything went black.

The power was out.

“Son of a bitch!!!”

It really wasn't his day.

Dean ran his hands over his face, sighing. Usually it was Sam who did the research on hunts. But after what he told him… Sam was gone. A simple fight had quickly turned into a shouting mess, and although he was still angry with his brother, Dean regretted some of the things he said.

Sighing once again, Dean got up and left his room. As it was late at night, it was dark and it took him a while to find the front desk of the motel.

There was no one.

"Of course."

Dean jumped over the counter. Since he didn’t have the key or the permission to be there, he had to act quickly. Luckily, he knew where the breaker was, all he had to do was open the door to his right, walk a little in the hallway, and then, the electrical room was there. After turning the power back on, Dean walked back to the counter again and on the other side...

“You’re kidding right, you’re telling me you work here?”

The girl from the cafe was in front of him, her arms folded across her chest. Taken aback, Dean didn't know how to react, once again. It was twice in one day that he ran into her, and both times he was at a loss for words.

When he didn't answer, the girl turned to leave, but luckily the hunter's body worked faster than his mouth. “Wait!”

He eventually caught up with her as she stopped in front of a door. Raising an eyebrow, she waited for him to speak.

Come on Dean, say something! Speak, why can't you say anything to her!

"They are all the same," she mumbled to herself as she turned to the door to unlock it. It was her room.

"I don't work here."

Stopping in her tracks, she turned her head to signal she heard him. “Okay. But I think I would have preferred you did. Because now, explaining your presence there is suddenly very complicated.”

There was a simple, easy-to-share explanation for his presence there. But yet, when he tried to say it, Dean once again found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. Why was he having so much trouble talking to this girl?

“Anyway, not my business, just glad the lights are on again.” She opened the door and took a step inside, then another, and as he finally found his voice, the door closed right in his face.

"Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

And it was like that every time they met. And they seemed to meet all the time and everywhere. At the grocery store. On the sidewalk, walking the same direction. Even at a red light where she crossed the street. Wherever he went in the days following their first meeting, Dean seemed to bump into her.

A few days later, the hunt was over and the bones burned. The ghost turned out to be a girl that died in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. She was targeting drivers who exceeded the speed limit on the city's main street, causing fatal accidents. One victim died, the others only suffered injuries.

And luckily for Dean, both him and Baby came out of this hunt without a scratch.

But that was just from the outside. Because inside of him, the wounds didn’t want to heal.

Now

Lying on this beach, next to the girl he had spent the last couple of days constantly walking into, Dean's thoughts were lost again.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her voice pulled him out of his head, and he noticed he was still staring at her. After clearing his throat, Dean turned his attention back to the sky and the blinding sun.

"Just… Um…" A sudden shadow soothed the burning rays of the sun in his eyes, and he blinked a few times to see the girl sitting beside him, one hand placed perfectly in front of him to shade his eyes. He swallowed with difficulty, like there was a ball in his throat and got up on his elbows.

“I didn't pay attention back at the café, that’s why I picked up the wrong order. I don't work at the motel, I just wanted the power to be back on, but since there was no one there, I fixed it myself. And I swear, I wasn't following you. It was all just weird coincidences that I can't explain."

Finally, he managed to say all the things he'd wanted to tell her every time he ran into her. It felt good to finally have control over his voice again.

"Mm hmm," she nodded, and Dean wished she didn't have her sunglasses on so he could admire her eyes. "I noticed you didn't seem very focused. Want to talk about it?"

Since he was unable to see her eyes, Dean focused on her lips. "Why would I want to talk about my problems to someone whose name I don't even know?" He replied, hoping it would prompt her to reveal her identity.

A smile tugged at her perfect lips. “Oh, but you know my name. It was written on my coffee.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Also, after all our encounters, don't you think fate would like us to get to know each other?”

At her words, Dean sat up completely. It didn't matter if he was covered in sand or that now, the sun was beating down on his face again. He liked the warmth it gave to his skin. “Fate is a bitch.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused, then took off her glasses. “Fuck fate, then. Why were you stealing other people's coffee, Dean?"

A small laugh escaped him as he thought for a moment. "My brother."

The words then seemed to come out all on their own. One after the other. He told her everything, well, apart from the supernatural aspect of his life. He told her about his fight with his brother, the only family he had left. How hard his job was, that he hadn't taken a moment for himself in so long; he couldn't even remember the last time he just laid down to feel the heat of the sun on his skin. And he told her about the regrets he had for some of the things he'd said and done.

She listened carefully without interruption. And when he was done telling her everything that was on his mind, he waited nervously for her to call him crazy and selfish. After all, it was the truth.

But that didn't happen.

“I’m sorry life sucks so much right now.” Her gaze wandered to the horizon. “You seem to really love your brother.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You should call him,” she turned her head towards him. As the sun went down, leaving with its warmth and light, he could see all the sadness of the world shining in her eyes. “Don't add more regrets to the ones you already have.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

She laughed softly. It was the saddest laugh Dean had ever heard, like she was accepting the truth, and the truth was that she'd never be happy again. One of her hands wiped her cheeks and left small grains of sand on her skin.

“That's the worst that could happen if you call him; what's the worst that could happen if you don't?”

Dean nodded. It made a lot of sense. Sam could refuse to talk to him…hang…never forgive him. But if he didn’t try… He had no idea how much worse it could get.

“And you," he asked, "why are you here?”

She was likely expecting that question from him, because her gaze once again fell on the vast ocean before them. “Regrets, just like you.”

Her body language changed then. She started playing with her hair, her feet sinking into the sand as though to feel something, anything, other than the pain she was feeling right now as memories flooded back into her head. "But for me, it's too late."

She had listened to him and been there for him, so obviously Dean wanted to do the same. "I'm sure it's not."

Shaking her head, she sighed. “It is. She passed away last month. A month already…” The sun was almost completely gone and the cold had settled onto the beach. Dean had no idea if she was shaking because she was cold or because she was in pain.

“We had a fight. You know, even best friends can disagree on things. I said mean things to her, the only person that ever stayed by my side… She was my everything. And I ruined everything.” Passing her hand over her cheeks again, Dean noticed the silent tears that had started to flow a while ago.“It was about speeding. I told her she was driving too fast. Well, I was right in the end.”

A sob broke her words.

And Dean understood.

The ghost he had to take care of… Was her best friend. Even after death, she remembered what they talked about, and wanted to do good. In the worst possible way. Causing people that were speeding to crash on that same road where she lost her life.

His heart sank as the pain she was feeling mingled with his own. And without noticing, he had his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him while she cried. Her body was shaking so much, her warm tears quickly soaking through his shirt. But he didn’t mind.

They stayed like that until the sun disappeared completely, and then, they stayed longer. Finally, he drove them back to the motel and walked her to her room.

“I don’t need your number,” she said as she stepped backwards into her room. “I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.”

“You bet,” Dean winked, a smile stretching his lips. They said goodnight, and he walked back to his own room. The conversations they'd had wouldn’t leave his mind. So he got his phone out, scrolled through his contacts, and stopped at the letter S, staring at Sam's name.

It wasn’t too late. But it could be if he didn’t do anything.

Without further hesitation, Dean pressed the call button.

It took a day for Sam to come back. When he finally arrived at the motel Dean was staying in, he was expecting a lot of things. Apologies from his big brother, hugs, anger, and probably more fighting. But he definitely hadn't expected to walk in on the scene he did.

“Ouch! Son of a bitch!”

“Hello?” Sam pushed the door open, looking everywhere but not finding his brother. “Dean?”

“Bathroom,” Dean answered and Sam followed his voice. What he found there was definitely more than unexpected.

Sam couldn’t help bursting into laughter as he was met with a very red faced Dean.

“What happened? Did you forget protection?”

His brother's whole face was burnt, and when Sam looked down, he could see that Dean's feet had suffered the same fate.

“Ha. Ha.” Dean laughed sarcastically as he looked at himself in the mirror again. It was bound to happen, spending the day outside, under the sun, with no sunscreen on…

He looked like a tomato.

But it was worth it.

“I’m glad you came back, little brother,” Dean said as he met Sam’s eyes in the mirror.

Sam stopped laughing and nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m glad you called. But I need to know, what did you do while I was gone?”

To that, Dean just smiled. “I ran into someone. More than once.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Supernatural Tag List: @peachyaliien @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl @this-is-me19

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @siospins2 @kazsrm67 @wtrpxrks @deanwanddamons @thoughts-and-funnies @charred-angelwings @jensendreamland @deanswaywardgirl @happyt0exist @waynes-multiverse @djs8891@mimaria420 @this-is-me19 @syrma-sensei

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netherfeildren · 8 months

Text

Joel

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

A/N: this was only written for myself, but i’ve decided to share with you, as well. if you’re a fear of god reader please know that this isn’t part of my official story line, and again — only an exercise for myself, but as this is written about birdie i’ve decided to include it as a part of the birdie’s house anthology. i apologize for any confusion or emotional turmoil this might cause, but rest assured that i’m desperately hoping to have something else up for birdie and joel for his birthday and that i plan to continue to write for them after that as well.

Content Warnings: Character death; Grief/Mourning; Description of death/injury; Unreliable narrators

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.1K

Read on AO3

JOEL

The billboard said “The End Is Near”

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

Phoebe Bridgers, I Know the End

The week before it happened, you watched a pack of wolves take down a moose. Old and stalwart and with a sort of strength only an animal that stands apart from all others in the hierarchy of nature can hold. Something unrelenting about a creature like that, that was made all the more shocking for the way the wolves had surrounded the old thing, tricked and felled the beast that for so long had stood solitary and unmoving.

There were so many things you knew about Joel after all these years. He was a father, a husband, a brother, a friend. Once he’d been a monster. Everything about him had been red. He’d tried not to cause harm. He’d failed more than he’d succeeded.

He had loved you. You think, more than any creature had loved another in all of man’s history. Or… at least sometimes it had felt like that. He had made you feel like that.

He is killed in the seventh year of your life together. Only seven little years which seem like nothing in the face of everything. Nothing in the face of the destruction of the whole world, and then the rebirth of it right here in this farm house in Wyoming, but which you know, no matter what they might seem like in the aftermath, were really everything, the only time that has ever mattered.

You remember that sometimes when you’d look around the kitchen table, the girls sitting around laughing and screeching and raucous with so much joy it seemed imaginary and untouchable, it felt like the whole world was sat existing around that oak table he’d made for you. The whole world right here at our kitchen table, Joel.

You remember the last time you heard his voice, right before he went out into the frigid snow to look for Ellie: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Oh, shut up. And then whispered right into the reddened sea shell of his ear, Here is what I see in your eyes right now: myself, reflected back at me – more love than has ever existed before in all history. And then his laugh – you’re laughing and when you laugh I want to carve the face of the world in your image. Lena zooming by your legs as you kiss for the last time, a blue ribbon in her hair.

Half a century from now, no one will remember us, but I will never forget you.

Remember the first time we met? Bated breath and racing heart, and the sound of the rest of your life ringing in your ears.

Remember the stitches in your palm? The first time I took you inside of me and all the times thereafter? When you pulled our first daughter from my body – and then the two others? Her first birthday? The countless birthdays after that? Remember the endless happiness so intense it was almost painful sometimes? Remember how much I love you?

But of course, he cannot. He’s not here anymore, and nothing hurts worse than the memory of joy when you’re living through grief. The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

They’d hurt him so badly. Fractured him in a way that not even your hands could mend, your years of study and practice futile in the face of such destruction. He’d fought hard, he’d tried to get away. This is the least comforting thing you could ever imagine.

What does it do to a person to be confronted with the inequity of their purpose? To have worked tirelessly for so many years only to fail when the moment was most dire.

Fracture of a different but equally devastating nature. And that moment of final realization, that there was nothing to be done – his bones had carried him for so long, you rest now, we’ll be okay, whispered into his mangled ear, half a chunk missing, savaged. You did good, Joel. You did good, my love.

The sound of Ellie’s voice telling herself over and over and over again that he was okay; he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

And she’d said to you: I wasted so much time being angry at him, for what? For loving me too much? For keeping me alive? For making a decision that now, with the clarity of age and a child of my own, I would have made exactly the same way? I wish I could walk in his shoes through that hospital all those years ago. I’d take his exact same steps – not a single pace different. And now he’s dead. And all that anger was for nothing. And our reconciliation feels so fraught, so meaningless in the face of all that time now. No matter that we’d had years after to be together, to be a family. All I can focus on now is the time lost, the sight of his crushed skull, the night I pushed him away before you, his face full of pain and regret. And the sound of his screams at the end.

Ellie tells you: I remember the sound of his screams better than anything else. The sound of him screaming out for me, for you Birdie – Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie. Begging for help, but actually, I’m not sure, she says. I’m not sure if that really happened or if my nightmares imagined it.

[I still think of you on your birthday. I’m sorry for everything, she thinks, when she lays in the grass with her sisters and looks for shapes in the clouds without him now. I only see you in the spaces between them. And she asks God why He didn’t work harder to save him. And He spits in her face and asks why she didn’t do the same.]

So, there are still our children. There is still Ellie. This family you’ve gifted me. The whole world abandoned here at our kitchen table. How can death exist when that exists? How can your death exist when they’re still here?

Don’t stop to think. Don’t interrupt the scream.

And you tell yourself, no this wasn’t supposed to happen, but the universe laughs and grips you by the throat; the gladiator scream goes on. Salt the earth, there’s nothing to return to.

And yet… that isn’t true either. Four little faces look up at you. Three sets of his eyes.

You were furious at the sun the day after he died. How could it just continue to rise as if nothing had happened?

And after all that, it is like this: You scream for seven days and seven nights.

You don’t get out of bed for thirty days.

You cry every single night for a year.

This is different. A strange and terrified sort of place. What does it mean to lose the basis of your entire existence?

And Ellie? Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. What is Ellie going to do without him? How is she going to be okay? The sound of her cries: Don’t let me be alone. Please, God, don’t let me be alone. I never wanted to end up alone. You need to make sure she’s okay, you need to take care of her the way that he would, the way that he’d want you to.

Ellie loses her mind for a little bit. After your thirty days in bed, she calls her turn, tells you and Dina that she’s leaving, that she’s going. That she’ll bring you back a vengeance you could never want and lay it at your feet, and you cup her chin gentle in your palm, and ask, What does it matter now, honey? Connie’s voice ringing in your memory. He’s gone now, what difference would it make?

She tells you that he would have done it for her, and you cannot refute such a claim. He would. He’d do much worse. He’d turn himself back into that monster we both know he had inside of him.

“So I need to do this.”

And you tell her: “I’m begging you not to. Me, who belonged to him, who knew him in a way no one else in the whole world did. I’m asking you not to. I’m still here. The girls are still here. We need you. We need you as a reminder of him.”

“You’ll remember him anyways,” she tells you, which is true.

“But you’ll make the memory all the better,” And so she does not go, for a time.

Ellie stays, and you have a funeral surrounded by the people of Jackson who respected a man who was good. A man who took himself for a monster for so long, even though he never said it out loud, but you knew, you saw. All that time apart, all that fear, fear, fear, the very fear of God struck into his heart, afraid of what he was, of what the world and a little girl with green eyes more than thirty years ago had made him into, but then, look at what we’d turned around and made together.

And you whisper to the apparition of him in your dreams: Joel if you were a monster, surely it was some sort of divine monstrosity.

So many people leave remembrances at the gate of the farm, the whole of Jackson. His brother, holding you up gripped beneath the elbows so as to not frighten your children, and Ellie is crying but trying to pretend she’s not, which somehow makes it worse than if she were to throw herself at the base of his coffin and howl.

You give her his jacket after that, and she smells like him all the time until the day she doesn't. Until the day it’s been so long since the last time that he was alive that his scent fades and leaves forever. She wears that jacket everywhere, to work, to hunt, to bed. Leaving her wife, leaving her family, leaving her sisters, leaving you because eventually she does – leave, and she wears his jacket. An inevitability like so many other things in life, you’re unable to keep her forever, and for a time she does go.

And you will never forget him, you will never move on, you will never stop telling your daughters about him. He lives on in them. And you wonder why it is that no one ever talks about the physically intimate aspect of grief? Of missing your person and wanting them and needing them, and your body physically craving relief from that singular person and never being able to achieve it fully ever again to completion like he could give it to you because he’s just not here.

He was, in every way, all that anyone could ever be.

I cried every single day for a year. The day I stopped, I put him inside of a drawer within myself and was never able to move myself to tears again.

Seven years since then, and you go to his grave for what you tell yourself will be the last time, recognize the lie for what it is, a single slab of carved stone, and you think, he doesn’t belong here, even still after all these years, and yet this is the only place he will ever be again.

He should have been made into a redwood, the tallest thing in the entire world. Let him be a tree. You’d climb and climb and climb, like that night with Beth, so long ago you can barely remember the sound of her voice most days. You’d climb, and he’d protect you one more time like he had so many times before.

Joel, years ago, when we were first married, I had a strange dream: I’d had to walk down a staircase that led far beneath the earth. As I traversed it, I had to move through all of our happiest memories, the births of our daughters, the birthdays and celebrations and the long nights together, dinners, breakfasts and laughter, lazy afternoons at the lake, in bed together, still endlessly fascinated with each other despite all the times we’d found ourselves in that exact position. But when I reached the end, I’d be able to come upon our worst moment, see what it was in preparation, perhaps, for what would come to pass.

I feel as though I have finally reached the bottom of that staircase, and part of me would like nothing more than to have never begun the journey down, but had I not, then I would have not lived through all the rest of it. And in the end, that was worth everything else.

That last night again, in my memory: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Close your eyes, he whispers, it’ll be worth it, the last taste of his mouth.

My eyes are still closed.

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haechvn · 1 year

Text

Beach Day

Pairing: Shuri x F!Reader

Warning: Fluff and Anxiety at the end

Summary/Request: Shuri and reader spend the day at the beach with Prince T'Challa

Word Count: 0.8k+

Author’s Note: It's crazy how much the actor for Prince T'Challa actually looks like Chad.

Taglist : @melodykisses @blackhottie25 @tonakings @coalmistyy @szalipcombo @prettyluhlaiiii @yelenabelovasgf @callmeoncette @clqrosmgc @beautybyfire @homelessmicechild @theblacksuccubus @cherios @killmongerskeeper @shuris-whore @topshottad0ll

The waves crash against the shore of Cap-Haïtien as the air fills with the sound of Prince T’Challa’s giggles, sending warmth and peace to Shuri’s heart. The sweet smell of the ocean breeze whipped all around the three of you as you watched the young child entertain himself by trying to build a snowman. With sand. T’Challa was the exact same oh my goodness, she thinks to herself, not being able to hide the toothy smile that forms on her face.

Leaning back, Shuri rests her head on your shoulder and takes your hand into hers, cherishing the present moment Bast has blessed her with. She was never able to see past her grief and could not fathom a time when she would be feeling content, let alone happy, without feeling guilty. In a very healthy way, Prince T’Challa allowed Shuri to heal her wounds in ways she never imagined. He is truly his fathers child; wide eyes and adorable little cheeks, the constant need to be helpful to others and clear cut speeches.

She could not have asked for more. Upon hearing about her brothers’ passing, her heart was torn beyond measure but now she can feel those pieces coming back into realignment. Of course some days are harder than others but she feels lucky knowing that T’Challa left a book and a child for her to get a sense of closure. She was grateful for the days she was able to be a part of more and more because it reminded her to continue living the life that her family would have wanted for her.

You landed in Haiti last week and ever since, you and Shuri have been experiencing some of the most peaceful days of your entire relationship. Waking up in bed to the rays of the Caribbean sun pouring through the room windows. Long early morning and late night strolls on the beach is how most of your days were filled in between building connections with many of the locals. Prince T’Challa had even attempted to start teaching Shuri Creole but his little lisp made it a little difficult to understand but nevertheless he still tried.

From the outside looking in, the Princess mirrored the previous version of herself that never endured all the pain she had been through. She had started to eat more regularly and opened herself to others more. Her skin was glowing at every second, eyes bright as the night stars and her smile. That smile of hers never seemed to leave her face.

Being in a foreign place with those she was familiar with allowed her mind to expand past all that she had endured back home, bringing back that sense of tranquility and letting her ground herself in the most important thing she tried to push away: love.

Having so much taken from her made it hard to appreciate those that still surrounded her. As everyday passed, she found herself believing in the words her late mother once spoke to her. “Your brother may be dead, but he is not gone.” Some days, she swears she can hear T’Challa laugh alongside his son’s. Shuri is finally able to properly move on without having to say goodbye.

Turning her attention back to the boy, she calls him over so that she can sandwich from the picnic basket that his mother had put together for the three of you. Watching him bite into his meal with crumbs littering his chubby cheeks, Shuri felt as though her heart would explode with joy as she played with his beautiful natural curls. Even Griot let her know that her heart rate was accelerating.

Joining him, the two of you enjoy your sandwiches and juice boxes because what is a picnic without a juice box. The glorious sun begins to set on you all, casting a vibrant purple and orange sky as Prince scurries back to the shoreline. He was able to entertain himself with absolutely anything around him. Taking a quick glance at you, Shuri’s mind can’t help but travel to the future, envisioning what it would be like if the two of you had children you would call your own. Waking up at the middle of the night to screeching cries, having to change countless diapers and the possibility of one of your many children looking just like you, is something Shuri would surely die for.

Prince had insisted that he didn’t need any help with any sand castle or artistic creations so it was a bit off putting when he rushed over to you two, interrupting a sweet kiss that you shared.

“Aunties! I said he needs help!”

He? Who is he? Maybe he was feeling connected to his father again or something but his father passed peacefully. Scanning around the area, there was nothing and no one else in sight.

“Prince,” Shuri called to her cousin, beckoning him closer because based on his body language, the young boy was extremely uncomfortable. “Who needs help? Do you want us to help you with your—.”

“The water man. The water man needs Aunty Shuri!”

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weasley-wizard-writes · 1 year

Text

Beautiful Ruiner, Damn My Ashes

George Weasley x Reader Smut 18+

A standalone fic from the We Stood In the Sun (Before It Exploded) series.

Genre: Smut, Angst(?)

Content Warnings:

NSFW

Grief

Word Count: 1,296

He panted heavily, his chest heaving as he groaned out in both anguish and pleasure, the feeling of your nails raking down his back somehow splintering him and bringing him to life all at once.

God, you were ruinous.

The way you looked up at him when he touched you like this, filled you like this, it was addictive, life altering, something he could not live with nor without.

You would be the end of him,

And oh what a cruel and beautiful fate that would be.

The crescents of your nails stamped permanently into his skin, your voice the last thing to play before his ears, and your body beneath his the final thing his eyes would ever see,

How could he dare to argue with such a lecherous end to his life? Such a fruitful lust, as long as it culminated in him seeing the stars that played behind your eyelids when you finally came undone for him.

So beautiful,

So heartbreaking,

So necessary,

So incredibly ruinous in Every. Single. Way.

The end of all ends,

The beginning of all beginnings,

Your body, your pleasure, you.

He felt guilt begin to build in his chest as he watched you, brushed the hair out of your face and behind your ear as you whimpered pitifully beneath his body, helpless to his never ending barrage of fulfilling thrusts as he penetrated you to the hilt

over and

over

and

over

again.

He growled harshly at his own uncontrollable thoughts,

His own uncontrollable needs,

And quickly took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, watching as you opened your eyes to meet his familiar, cold gaze.

But he was so struck at what he saw within those eyes that his hip-bruising voracity waned, and his own orbs widened in surprise,

There was hope there, pride, joy, and something else he could not put his finger on,

Or rather, something that he did not want to put his finger on,

But, no matter,

They were rather occupied at the moment anyhow.

But those eyes,

So beautiful, so shiny even in the dimmed light of his bedroom, where only the dying bulb of his bedside lamp and the moon could light his path to salvation,

(to you).

He was awestruck.

There was silence in his mind for a few moments, as he stared down at your body, at the place where the two of you were connected as one, despite everything he had done, and everything that he had not.

But then, noting his slowed thrusts and sudden lack of urgency, you mewled for him in a way that made his mind race, those claws of yours moving from his back to his hips to pull and scratch at them, causing them to stutter before speeding up once more.

Surely you would kill him like this, oh beautiful ruiner, damn far more than his soul, but even his ashes to Hell for the thoughts you caused him to have.

He was ruined for anyone save for this woman who laid before him, that was for certain.

And all of his feelings for you, the hatred, the annoyance, the fondness, the admiration, and that one other thing he had seen in your eyes...

They made it so hard to focus, so hard to forget, and he couldn’t help but wonder what else he was doing this for if not that.

Why was he buried within you, gasping for air, pressing his sweaty forehead against your own and almost smiling, if not to forget?

He could not bring himself to answer the question, but he could bring himself to push it away, and drown himself in you,

And so he did.

George began to thrust his hips into yours even harder, his finger tips digging into your ass and hips with a bruising force as he lifted you towards him for better access, desperate to be connected, and desperate to be whole again.

You gave him all that he could ask for and more, and he hissed when he felt you press closer, your ankles locking around his hips as you squeezed your thighs tighter to his body, your head falling back in what he prayed was bliss.

You were a perfect sight to behold, such beautiful damnation, as if you were made solely for his eyes to see.

Suddenly,

Cursing, gasping, growling, George came deep inside of you, his hands shaky as he lowered you to the bed completely, slowly severing the connection between your bodies.

It was cold all alone, so cold when he couldn’t feel you, that he had half a mind to bury himself inside your heat once more, and just forget about the outside world.

But before he could, you spoke, confusion in your voice as you raised your hand to his face to brush some of his over-grown ginger locks away from his eyes.

“George?”

You asked softly, and your voice made him shiver far more than the coldness of this lonely world outside of you ever could.

“Yes?”

He replied quietly, as if afraid he would frighten you away if he spoke too loudly.

“Why wont you kiss me again?”

George felt his eyes widen at your words, and they swept over your form slowly as his mouth began to form a response,

“I can’t, it wasn’t fair when I did before. It wasn’t real, it was just hungry, and cruel, and I won’t do that to you again. I’m not a monster, Y/n. I’m not.”

His words were spoken more to reassure himself than you, and he knew that, but even so he looked towards you once more to see your reaction, and the sorrow and everything else, unchanged from before, that could be found within your eyes was very nearly too much for him to bear.

Especially that unnamed emotion, the one that made his stomach clench in fear.

You raised your fingers, adept and nimble, familiar and haunting, to his face once more, this time framing his cheek and stroking it gently with your thumb as you spoke, sympathy so evident within your tone that it should’ve made George angry,

But this time it only hurt.

“Oh but George,”

You murmured, and he panicked as your familiarity started to fade, and that emotion he could not, would not, name, began to bleed away from your gaze,

“If that’s true, then why are you here?”

Ice cold fear clutched at George’s chest as your body beneath him vanished, your warmth replaced with an oh so familiar nothingness that made him want to weep for not just what he had lost, but for what he had never even had the opportunity to lose in the first place.

He was so lost in the darkness, with nothing and no one there, and he called out your name for what felt like hours with absolutely no response but his own voice echoing back at him, reminding him of his sins, and his atrocities born from grief.

He awoke in his bed gasping for air, his heart pounding in his chest as he sat up quickly, looking around for someone in his darkened bedroom, the only light being that of the moon, which poured in past his open curtains.

Fred was not there,

You were not there,

He was completely alone, and the world was cold again, outside of you.

And there was nothing to do now but lay awake and remember your warmth while ignoring that feeling of guilt as it grew stronger and stronger inside of him, because he knew

He would never find that emotion in your eyes anywhere outside of his dreams,

And you were not his to dream of in the first place.

“Beautiful ruiner, what have you done to me?”

MASTERLIST

Here is where I keep my tag lists, whether they’re permanent or just for a specific series or character. If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know and I’ll add you :)

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 9 months

Note

May I please request Daemon Blackfyre with the prompt: Summer Wine? (Feel free to delete this.)

Hello!Thank you for the request! I confess I have not yet reached the part of Daemon Blackfyre in Fire and Blood, but I will try to do my best. I hope you like this!

"Redgrass field"

Pairing: Daemon Blackfyre x Fem. Reader

Themes: Secret love / Lost love / Angst

Warnings: Alcohol use | Brief mention of kissing and intimate activities (very very brief and very very mild)

Word count: 600 approximately.

Summary: It is not everyone who captures Daemon Blackfyre's especial attention. But what happens after that?

Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here

You could still remember the first time you saw him.

The bastard son of Daena the Defiant, the one known to all as Blackfyre, rode up to the lists, all proud and tall and fierce, with his beaten silver hair and bewitching lavender eyes that could beckon even the most resolute of maidens like a siren's call. His silver spurs jingled sweetly even as they glinted wickedly in the brilliant summer sun. His milky white courser had been resplendent in red and black silks that swirled around it whenever it broke into a run.

It was the most beautiful of days, all bright and golden and glorious. The crowd roared every time Daemon broke his lance and unhorsed his opponent. They would gasp when his foe fell to the earth with a sickening clangor. They would applaud when the fallen knight struggled to his feet. Daena would cheer louder than all the rest, her eyes filled with unbridled pride. Daemon was her child, her light, her life, and her joy. And yet, it was not her he sought out, but you. Out of all the ladies present, Daemon sought you out.

"Victory would be all but assured, sweet lady," he had declared, "if I had the great honor of wearing a token of your esteem."

You honored him, bestowing upon him not just a bejeweled token but a great many other things even as the days melted into each other. It was you he came to for companionship; it was you he turned to in the dances. He would tenderly lead you, his feet as light as air, his touch as gentle as a feather. His laughter would ring across the grounds, as clear as dawn bells. There was magic as light and sweet as summer wine, and the two of you drank deeply during those heady nights.

Oh, how heady indeed were those nights. Daemon wooed you and courted you, his kisses tasting like strawberries and cherries and bright spring mornings. His hair smelled like warm summer nights. His skin tasted of sunlight. You both knew it would never last, for he was the son of a Targaryen princess, and you were of little consequence to be considered a worthy consort for one such as him. Still, the two of you made the most of what the Gods gave you that season, delighting in summer days and summer nights and sweet, sweet summer wine. And when he left, you wept not, content to hold onto the memories that kept you warm many a cold autumn night, thinking that perhaps, some day, he would come for you and take you for his own.

That would never be. He wed another, quarreled, and warred, and now you were here, in this faraway field, standing before the great winged warhelm that was all that remained of his grave marker. The wonder and terror of his age, your summer love, snuffed out in the blink of an eye. If you did not weep then, you wept now, your eyes filling and stinging with uncontrollable tears. Did he think of you, of those glorious days and nights the two of you shared? Had he ever considered seeking you out, even for a moment? Unspeakable grief welled up and spilled over like a mighty flood. The lady he would go on to marry had his children. You had nothing of him, save for his winged warhelm, and, of course, the memories of summer days and summer nights and sweet, sweet summer wine.

#daemon blackfyre #Daemon blackfyre imagine #Daemon blackfyre x reader #x reader #reader insert #house targaryen #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf x reader

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abysskeeper · 2 months

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The thing I was losing my mind over earlier. This fic probably won't see the light of day in full for a while because I'm about 6 fics back in terms of proper context...but one day. And what the hell? I spit out a little over 1k of it today and I'm proud of it...so into the tag it goes.

Rated M. Ultimately not explicit, but highly suggestive. Some mentions of death that will be much more explicit in the first chapter I've yet to write.

***

“My most precious treasure beating just under the palm of my hand.”

“If that’s your most precious treasure then—”

“Don’t.” His voice was low but harsh, and the word would have bordered on a threat if it wasn’t tinged with the desperation of a plea. “Do not joke. Do not minimize yourself or what happened, please.”

Her breath stuttered at the intensity of his brown gaze, and she was certain he felt her heart skip several beats under the breadth of his palm. No jokes, no minimization, no trying to ease what happened, he wanted to sit with it and let it rest heavy between them when all she wanted to do was forget and move on. Gale was right though, a part of her knew that. They both needed to acknowledge it, though the longer the silence stretched on, the heavier it hung around them. And the heavier the weight became, the tighter her throat constricted and the hotter her eyes burned.

“Am I…am I truly?” Nox forced out, blinking the tears back.

“Oh, my love,” Gale sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

She was still hyper-aware of every movement he made. His hand slid the rest of the way down her sternum and then around to her back, the tips of his fingers leaving hot trails in their wake and the side of his pinky lightly grazing her breast. His palm flattened across her spine, fingers splayed against her upper back before he pressed her close to him. Their bodies flush against each other, he tilted his head to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss was soft and slow but purposeful, and he delicately took her top lip between his for a moment, before moving to her bottom lip with a light graze of his teeth, and then finally covering them both with his own. His tongue slid out languidly and outlined over the curves of her lips, as much an act of idle worship as it was a request.

She parted readily for him, moaning against him as his tongue slipped over hers and started exploring her mouth. She steadied herself for a moment, both hands splayed over his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers through his hair. Without thought, one leg rose and wrapped around his hip, yanking him even closer. He responded favorably, moaning into her mouth and wrapping his arms under her to hoist her up against him. She sighed, utterly content as she wrapped her legs around his waist and sunk further into his embrace.

Any other night, and Nox knew she would have been begging him to slip inside her and exhibit how he’d drive them both to new heights of physical pleasure. After their success, it was the celebration that should have been happening tonight. Instead, the closeness that they shared—bodies pressed against one another as tightly as possible, heavy breaths mingling as they kissed each other senseless, hands caressing over hair and skin and scars—finally broke the dam, and the first few tears started spilling over from the corners of her eyes.

She needed this, the closeness. She needed to be wrapped in his arms, just as much as she needed him to be wrapped up in hers. She needed the proof they were both still alive.

Despite everything, they were still alive.

It was overwhelming, and when it became too much bursting in her chest, she pulled away. Despite being rosy and kiss-swollen, her bottom lip still trembled, and she bit down hard in an attempt to keep herself contained. Her vision grew cloudier with tears though, and her heart beat erratically in her chest, overcome with a sense of joy and a sense of grief. A sense of relief that they were both still standing here. Anger that they were both still standing here. And love.

Overwhelming, all-encompassing love. A love she almost sacrificed everything for.

Gale opened his eyes, his heated brown gaze falling intently down on her. He softened immediately upon seeing her tears though, and he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, arm braced against her back while he pressed her head back against his.

“Gods above…you are everything to me, Nox’ani,” he breathed out. “And I believed I lost everything once; I survived it, though only just barely and with the help of my dearest friend. But losing you?” He gave a rough swallow and shook his head lightly against hers. “I would not survive losing you.”

“I’m sorry,” Nox croaked, choking on her tears and left near breathless at the sentiment he was speaking. “I didn’t mean…I…I didn’t want…”

She swallowed hard, trying to clear her throat enough to speak. Instead, she swallowed her voice altogether as what little words she had left her. With speaking no longer an option, one hand untangled itself from his hair and trailed down his chest, traveling to settle over his heart. She applied a little more pressure and felt his heart beating just as erratically under her palm as her own did under his.

“I promised,” she whispered, gaze finally lifting to meet his.

Recognition flashed in his pretty eyes before they closed altogether with a sigh. He shook his head again, grimacing with a mixture of pain and understanding. “Nox…”

“I promised,” she repeated. “I promised you that you would live through this day and we’d figure out the rest together after.”

“That’s hardly a promise kept if you aren’t by my side,” Gale pointed out softly.

“I know,” she agreed. She did know, in the aftermath of the fight, she recognized the hypocrisy. “But that didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was you. What mattered was not losing you, not losing…” Her voice broke off as a small sob shook through her, her tears falling harder.

“Nox,” he mumbled. His one hand slipped forward to cup her cheek as his thumb brushed away a few tears. “I understand.”

She shook her head, silencing anything else he might have said. He did understand, she didn’t doubt that, he knew her enough by now to understand exactly her thought process leading up to her decision to jump in front of that blade. It didn’t matter, it was something she still had to say.

“I…I’ve lost many. You know this,” Nox whispered. “And I’ve survived too. But you?” She shook her head, another, small cry pushing past her lips. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You? Gale, I wouldn’t survive losing you, either.”

#don't mind me #my writing #bg3 #bg3 tav #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #I am having a completely normal time with these two clearly #this will be a two-shot at one point exploring nox dying and being resurrected against myrkul #after convincing gale to not blow himself up she just goes and dies...the audacity #gale gave up his scroll for to bring her back and everything #high drama high hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending...all that jazz #because apparently that's what I live for with these two #time gremlin #moon mage of elturel

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

all’s faire - chapter nine

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,902

Notes: The final chapter. I’m in a bit of disbelief that this story is over already. I’m also floored by the reception that this series has gotten, and I’m touched that so many people have found such joy in Pero and Florecita’s love story. I’m going to be writing another modern!au with Pero Tovar at some point. All my love and appreciation goes to @ezrasbirdie for beta-reading and being such a cheerleader for this story from the very beginning when it was in early stages. And as always a massive thank you to @lowlights for being such a massive supporter of this story and also yelling at me in the DM’s. I adore you both ❤️

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, kissing, minor argument/disagreement that is quickly resolved, grief, non-explicit sexual content (including semi-public sex/needing to be quiet), proposals

previous chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (pero tovar)

The penultimate weekend of Faire comes and goes. You spend time with Sarah, catching up and chit-chatting in between customers.

The Westport Faire is starting this weekend so most people are attending that one. It makes for a long two days. “Is it always this slow?” you ask Sarah halfway through Sunday afternoon. “The last couple of weekends?”

Sarah ponders for a minute. “Yeah. Typically,” she replies. “It would be a lot less stressful for everyone involved if Lockwood’s was four weeks instead of six. Free up more of the summer, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But I’d like to actually do something with my summer weekends too. I think the kids would love having more of their summer, too.” You’re sure that Cassie wouldn’t mind doing it the entire year. But she’s an outlier in many ways.

The tavern is dead. Your volunteers are busy wiping down the tables and counting the money from what sales you and Sarah have made today.

Your mind wanders to Pero. If you have the schedule correctly, the next duel is in fifteen minutes. Would he come in?

“Next weekend should be fun, though,” Sarah continues.

You look up from the piece of wood on the bar that you’ve been absently staring at. “Hm?”

Sarah adjusts her corset a little bit. “That’s another thing that would be great about only four weekends instead of six. Less damage to the girls and the internal organs. Anyway. Yeah, the last weekend of faire is always…” She smiles softly with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she searches for the word. “...Special. Hey, you should see if your sister wants to come next weekend. She hasn’t been out yet, has she?”

You have no idea what she is talking about. Wasn’t the first weekend typically the special weekend if there was going to be one? It was special to you, anyway. Or at least to your character. It was the weekend that your handfasting had happened. The weekend that had changed everything and truly set things between you and Pero into motion. Had it only been a month ago? How quickly things change.

Clearing your throat, you say, “No. She hasn’t. I’ll see if she wants to next weekend.”

As if summoned by your thoughts, Pero enters the tavern. His hair is slightly rumpled, sweat beading on his forehead. Automatically, you pour him a glass of water and bring it over to him. “My captain,” you say, curtsying as he takes the glass from you.

He downs it in two sips, setting the glass down on the table. Gathering you in his arms, he kisses you. “Florecita.” It’s a chaste kiss. It always has to be at Faire. Or almost always. You reach up and smooth his hair. “Might you accompany me to the duel?” he asks. “If Matilda will give you leave?” He glances at Sarah.

She quickly reassumes her Faire accent. “Oh, aye. Just so long as you return her to me.”

Pero’s look of mischief settles against you, low in your belly. “I make no promises, Señorita Matilda. I may steal her away.”

Sarah stifles a giggle, trying to stay in character. “Very well. Do with her as you will.”

Pero gives you a searing look that only adds to the feeling low in your stomach. He’s doing this on purpose. “Oh, I intend to.”

Taking your hand in his, he leads you out of the tavern and into the hot, sunny afternoon. You lean close, dropping your Faire accent. “I have something to tell you tonight,” you murmur into his ear. To an outsider it looks like you’re sharing a moment with your captain. And in a way you are.

Lin-Mae had given you the go-ahead to tell people about your promotion this morning when you arrived at Faire, the paperwork finally having gone through. Now you can tell people. And the person you’re most excited to tell is standing right beside you.

They’re close, Pero and Lin-Mae. The two people that love William the most and the two people that were loved by him the most. You think back to what Lin-Mae said about you being family. William and Pero were like brothers. And you can’t help but wonder if Pero already knows what you have to tell him.

Pero squints at you in the hot sun, curiosity piqued. “I await your news with eager anticipation,” he says, a million thoughts going through his head. He lifts your joined hands to his mouth and kisses them, right where your palm meets his.

Yeah, you’re excited to tell him.

- - - -

You tell him as you chop the tomatoes for the pasta he’s cooking that night. Both freshly showered, your overdress and chemise are in the washing machine with some of Pero’s clothes. You’ve stolen another one of his shirts, not wanting to get dressed again since you’re only going to be taking your clothes off in a matter of a few hours. Clementine weaves herself between your legs and you stoop down to give her some scritches behind her ears that she loves getting so much. “What did you want to tell me, cielito?” Pero asks.

You resume your chopping. “I got a bit of a promotion,” you start. “The paperwork just got finished on Friday but Lin-Mae didn’t want me to tell anyone until it was finalized.”

Pero just smiles at you. “Is this what you were buzzing about on Tuesday night?” he asks. He doesn’t sound surprised. Pleased and excited for you, yes. Surprised, no.

You grin back at him. “Yeah,” you reply. “Lin-Mae wants me to take over as store manager so she can go and help with her parents.”

Pero leaves the onion and the garlic that he’s sauteing in the frying pan, comes over to you. “I knew it,” he murmurs. “Well, I didn’t know. But I had my suspicions.” You look up at him, setting the knife down next to the cutting board as he embraces you. “I knew that Lin-Mae was looking to step back so that she could pursue other things. It was me that made the suggestion. But I didn’t know she had given it any thought.”

This piece of information startles you and you pull away from his warm embrace to better look at him. “Wh — you suggested me?” you ask. “When?”

Pero thinks for a minute. “The second weekend of Faire,” he shrugs.

This revelation stuns you. “That was before — what?” Pero picks up the cutting board with the tomatoes on it, brings it over to the frying pan to add to the garlic and onions. They sizzle in the frying pan and Pero reduces the heat before turning back to you.

“I—” Pero pauses for a second. “I knew your work ethic even then. You’re dedicated and committed and… you needed something that was just your own. I —”

Whatever else he has to say is cut off as you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him, your hands cradling his face. His hands rest on your waist. No one’s ever been this considerate, ever done something quite like this for you. Even if it was before you realized your feelings for each other, it was a romantic thing for Pero to do. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said or done for me.”

You stand like that for a minute, him holding you close. You love this man with everything you have. And this revelation is all but a declaration of love from him. You’re sure of it. Eventually, Pero turns back to the mixture in the frying pan. You follow close behind, embracing him from behind, your cheek resting against his back.

Over dinner, you talk about how you’ll have to find an employee to take over from what you’ve been doing.

“Perhaps Cassandra?” he suggests. It’s a small thing, but you kind of adore how he always calls her by her full name. It’s such a Pero-ism. You wonder if he’ll ever call her Cassie. Wonder if she’s ever told him that Cassie is fine.

With a smile, you consider asking Cassie. “Maybe. I don’t know if she would want to work with me as her boss.”

“That is true. I’ll think of someone if you like.”

Your fingers play with his. “That would be great. I want to avoid nepotism hiring too, at least for the time being.”

After dinner, he takes you up to his bedroom. He takes his time with you, pulls you apart piece by piece. First with his mouth and his fingers and then again with his body. He holds you close as you reach that high, his name a stifled cry from your mouth.

When you come back to yourself, it’s your turn to show him how he makes you feel. It’s never the same twice with Pero. Each time feels like the first time. You hope it never gets old. That it never feels rote or routine, like it’s something you have to do with him. It’s still such a new thing, what you have with Pero. But it also feels like you’ve known him for a lifetime. Have loved him for a lifetime. And that thought doesn’t frighten you.

As you fall asleep, Clementine resting next to you (she found her way into the bedroom as you and Pero were sharing in your afterglow), you snuggle closer to Pero. Hoping that you never know a life without him.

- - - -

“What does this mean for Faire planning?” asks Pero the next morning over breakfast, his tone suggesting it’s not the first time he’s thought of this.

You frown. “Ummm… not sure. But you know, I can help you. I might be a bit of a newbie, but I know how to plan events. I have some ideas.”

Pero takes a sip of his coffee. “I know you do, amor. And I want to hear them. But Lin-Mae has always been my co-planner.”

You’re not sure why, but this irks you a little bit. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lungs. “I know she has. But I’m going to tell you the same thing she told me. Phones exist. Computers, too. And don’t worry, it’s not like any of my ideas are terribly drastic.”

It’s Pero’s turn to sigh. “It won’t be the same.” His voice is a snap. Why is he being so pigheaded about this?

It’s then that you catch the look in Pero’s eyes. This has nothing to do with Faire. It’s the fact that a piece of William isn’t going to be around as much anymore. That it might be changing his legacy. This is one of the last things he has of William. And he doesn’t want to tarnish his best friend’s memory or goals. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I know it’s silly…”

You shake your head. “No it isn’t,” you reply, taking his hands in yours. “It’s important to you. But it’s too much to do all by yourself. Lin-Mae will still help where she can and I can help you, too. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to do everything all by yourself. I promise. You carry too much weight on your shoulders.” You pause. “I remember what you said to me a few weeks ago. That this is supposed to be fun,” you remind him.

He nods without a word. He’s quiet for a moment, save for a breathy, shaky exhale. “I know. I forget that sometimes. But this is important to me.”

“I know it is, Pero. And I can help you to make sure that it stays important. You’ve got me, now. Remember?”

Pero’s hands grip yours just a little bit tighter for a moment. “I don’t think I could forget that.” He presses his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs to you after a minute.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you tell him and you mean it. “Let me help you make this into the best Faire Lockwood Falls has ever seen.”

He presses his lips to your cheek and you close your eyes. “I’ll hold you to that, querida.”

A few hours later, he drops you back at Tess’s house. Tess is home, needing to be there for the plumber to fix the leaky shower.

The reason for him dropping you off is two-fold. One is to come over for dinner and meet your sister and niece in this new capacity — he already knows Cassie and Tess from school, but he hasn’t met your sister in any other capacity. Not really.

“Why don’t you go inside and unpack? Maybe make us all some tea?” Tess suggests to you. Cassie gets up from her seat to come and help you but at the last minute sits back down. Her mom must have shot her a look to stay where she is.

While you’re inside, Pero sits down on one of the porch chairs. “How are you, Ms. Miller?” he asks.

“Tess is fine, Pero. You know me well enough. Plus, you’re seeing my sister. And I’m fine.”

Pero knows exactly what this is. Your parents aren’t here to give the “what are your intentions with our daughter?” speech, so it falls to Tess, who’s stepped into the role of protective big sister with ease. “That’s good.”

Your sister doesn’t beat around the bush. It must be a genetic thing. “So you and my sister…” she starts. “How serious is it?”

He clears his throat. “Very serious. I love her. She makes me want to be a better man.” Tess nods, impressed with this answer. Pero fidgets for a second before continuing. “Um… Cassandra already knows this since she was there when I told Lin-Mae this plan, but I have something planned for the last weekend of Faire.”

Cassie’s eyes light up with excitement. “It’s why we want you to come this weekend. Well, also, I want you to see what we’ve been doing.”

Tess raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” she asks, listening intently as Pero, with the aid of Cassie, tells her what the plan is for the final weekend. She’s never heard him speak this much. He doesn’t think he’s ever said this amount in such a short timespan.

You return with a tray of tea and some cookies just as he’s finishing telling your sister what is planned for this weekend. It’s planned for Sunday, the final day of Faire.

There’s a weird energy in the air. Tess looks at you with a look that’s unreadable. Cassie is grinning. “Is everything… okay?” you ask, handing Pero his cup of tea.

The three of them nod. “Mmm-hmmm. Everything’s fine,” Cassie says.

Sitting down next to Pero, his free hand comes to rest on your thigh. “Never go into espionage, kid,” you tell Cassie.

Tess just takes a long sip of her tea.

After dinner, you and Tess clean the kitchen as Pero sits in the living room. You wonder if it’s a bit strange for him, to be spending time with one of his students. That he’s dating a relative of one of his students. “What was all that about this afternoon?” you ask.

Tess looks up from the dishwasher. “Hmm? Oh, nothing,” she says. “He and Cassie were just telling me about Faire.”

You nod, not without a healthy dose of skepticism. “Right. Okay.” Knowing that you’re not going to get anything else out of her, whatever it is, it’s a secret not for your ears yet. Maybe that’s why Sarah was acting squirrely on Sunday, too. Changing the subject, you say, “What do you think? Is he worthy?”

Tess nods. “Yeah. He’s a bit prickly but you’re good for each other. He said…No, I shouldn’t say it,” she says, thinking about how he told her that he loves you. It’s clear that those words haven’t been spoken out loud yet between the two of you. She doesn’t want to be the one that says it for either of you. “Do you love him?” she asks instead.

You look over at him where he’s having a discussion with Cassie about the upcoming school year, just what every teenager on summer vacation wants to talk about. You smile. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

Once the dishes are done, you find that Pero is gone from the living room. “Bathroom,” Cassie says, not looking up from her phone.

The bathroom door opens, but Pero doesn’t come back. You go to find him; he’s in your room. At the sound of you at the door, he turns from the bookshelf. Shutting the door, you walk over to him, your hands go to his sides, stroking up and down. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you ask. You know he was nervous about this.

Pero shakes his head. “No. This was lovely.” You lean up and kiss him.

The kiss turns heated. Pero pulls you closer to him, his need for you apparent very quickly. “Pero,” you murmur in between kisses. He moves his lips down your neck, asking the question without vocalizing it. “Yes. I want you. I need you.”

“We’ll need to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me, bebita?” His voice is pure sin. And you are no saint.

While you usually prefer the freedom of being able to vocalize your pleasure, there is something to be said about the urgency. About Pero’s big hand against your mouth as he presses kisses into your skin in between his growls of “that’s my good girl, taking me so well,” having his way with you against the wall of the guest room of your sister’s house. Something that you like very, very much.

If Tess and Cassie hear your muffled sounds, your hushed cries and moans of pleasure against Pero’s hand, or the sound of skin on skin, they don't mention it when you come out some time later for dessert and a game of Scrabble. Nor do they mention your rumpled clothes and the love marks that you and Pero left behind on each other or ask why the window is open when it’s starting to rain.

- - - -

The rest of the week passes with little fanfare. On Friday after work, Pero picks you up and takes you out for dinner. You’re spending more and more time at his place that it’s beginning to feel like home. Then again, it’s always felt like home.

Saturday’s Faire feels normal. It’s the final Saturday of the Faire so it feels a bit bittersweet. At the beginning of all this, you had no idea that it would play out quite like this. It plays out as it always has. You spend more time with Pero than you do at the tavern. It’s become a lot more loose and relaxed, you and he roaming the Faire grounds together between duels, you and Sarah meandering around at other points of the day. You’ve mentioned some of your ideas to him and he’s beginning to take them into consideration. There are forty-six weeks until the next Faire begins after all.

Sunday, however, is an entirely different story. Pero wakes you early, makes love to you as the sun rises. He whispers in your ear, “You’re my special girl. My florecita. I’m so happy I found you.”

Once you arrive at the grounds, Sarah ushers you away from Pero. You’re not sure why, since you’re both already laced up. She brandishes a flower crown. “Since it’s the last day and all,” she says with a wink, placing it on your head. “Perfect. A pirate captain’s queen.”

That’s not the first time she’s said that. “Is there something different about today?” you ask.

Sarah shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clearly she’s in on this, too.

If Saturday was lax, today is entirely laid-back. People come in and out and you stay in character. But you never see Pero all day. Not even when you and Sarah meander around the grounds, interacting with guests and taking in the last day of this year’s Faire.

Tess only shows up near the end of the day. She has a turkey leg in one hand, a map in the other. “You look nice,” she says. “Oh, yes. The flower crown is a perfect touch,” she says to Sarah. “I’ll admit, I didn’t know what to expect, but this is really something.”

At four-thirty, half an hour before the Faire is supposed to end, Pero finally comes into the tavern. “I do apologize, Captain, but we are no longer in service for this day,” Sarah says.

“I am not here for a drink,” replies Pero. “I am here to see my intended.”

You walk over to him, suddenly shy. Whatever Tess, Cassie and Sarah are in on, he’s got something to do with it. “My Captain,” you murmur. You go to curtsy as you always do, but he catches your chin before you can, lifting it with one finger, allowing you to look at him.

“Bonita. Mi amor.” He’s speaking as Pero, not as the captain and mercenary to your tavern maid. “Will you come with me?” he asks, looking shy.

With a nod, you take his hand and follow his lead, vaguely aware that you have an entourage trailing behind you. Sarah and Tess take up the rear, following you through the Faire grounds.

You recognize where you’re going as soon as you turn the bend that leads to the smithy. You haven’t been here since the first weekend. Not since —

Lin-Mae, Will Ballard and Cassie are standing there.

Oh. You turn to Pero. “What’s going on? We’re already handfasted. I think we’ve still got time.”

He smiles at you. “No we’re not. Captain Bastian is handfasted to the tavern wench. I am not handfasted to you.”

You’re suddenly very aware of your heartbeat and your breathing. “I see,” you hear yourself say.

Pero continues. “I never expected this summer to turn out the way it did. But I am so glad that it did. I am so glad it was you that Cassandra brought to me at the handfasting ceremony on the first weekend. I love you. And I wanted this last day to be a reflection of the first weekend. To celebrate how far we’ve come.”

Tears prick your eyes. “I love you too, Pero.” He bends to kiss you, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb as he leans his forehead against yours.

With a shivering breath, you and Pero turn to face Lin-Mae and Will Ballard, ready for the handfasting ceremony.

Like the first time, everything melts away except for you and Pero. Nothing else matters except for him and you and his hand around yours. The feeling that you had the first time around, the feeling about him protecting you and taking care of you, returns tenfold, because he has. He will. The faint sensation of the handfasting string being woven around your hands with each new vow as you and Pero look into each other’s eyes.

“You are bound for a year and a day. At the end of this time, should you wish to remain so, return to me and state your intention. Otherwise you are free to go your separate ways.” You and Pero seal your vows with a kiss, more tears streaming down your face.

“I love you. And I want you to move in with me. And I want to spend time with you,” Pero murmurs.

You nod against his forehead. “I love you. I want those things too. We can figure things out.”

You have a year and a day. You’ve got a lot of time to figure it out. You’ll figure things out together.

- - - -

One year and one day later

“How’s Chicago? How are your parents?” you ask as you open the door for Lin-Mae. It’s Monday so the store is closed. You’ve kept the same hours. Pero came through with finding you an employee in Delilah Patterson. She’s a good kid and a hard worker.

Lin-Mae is in town for a “staff meeting” or so she says. But really she’s here to see Dan, but used wanting to see how the store is going this summer as an excuse. Despite the fact that she’s been here for the last month and a half for Faire.

“It’s good. And they’re fine. The studio is almost ready to open, too.”

You sit down in the cafe part of the store, coffees already made for the both of you. It’s been an interesting year. You officially moved out of your sister’s guest room the third week of August last year into what is now Pero and your house. “It was already your home, mi amor,” he’d said to you. “You are home.” Clementine had agreed with that statement completely, settling in on the couch between you and Pero that night, purring loudly as you gave her pets and scritches. For a cat who doesn’t like strangers, she warmed up to you in no time flat. She almost always sleeps curled up beside you in the bed.

Since taking over in planning Faire with Pero from Lin-Mae for the most part (she is still involved in planning and gets final say for more questionable changes but you have taken over most of the more mundane and smaller things) most things have stayed the same. But there were also some changes as well. For starters, you’d bartered a shorter run time, reducing it from six weeks to four so it ran through the last weekend of June and the first three weekends of July. Giving everyone involved more time to plan and more time to enjoy the summer. Though you had met Pero’s parents at Christmas when they came to visit, you have plans to go to Mallorca in August with him to spend two weeks and meet the rest of his family. Another perk of cutting things a bit shorter at Faire, getting to do more things like this with Pero.

Speaking of Faire, you and Sarah also aren’t as tethered to the tavern as you had been last year. You had enlisted staff from Nick’s to come in and work the tavern so that you and Sarah could float around through the Faire grounds or be in the tavern if you so chose. The handfasting storyline between your tavern wench and Pero’s captain-slash-mercenary has stayed in place and everything was overall a lot more easygoing and relaxed while maintaining what William had wanted it to be.

It had been your idea to put a commemorative plaque at the entrance to the Faire grounds, honouring and remembering William Garin as the man who first came up with the idea. The best friend, brother figure and husband with a big heart.

The meeting doesn’t last long, not that you suspected it would. “Everything seems to be in order,” says Lin-Mae, handing your portfolio back to you.

The bell jingles as the door opens. “I thought I locked that,” you murmur, getting up to see who it is and to tell them that the store is closed. But then you see who it is. “Hey, love,” you greet your boyfriend with a kiss. “What’s up?”

Pero hugs you and then looks over your shoulder. “Your Majesty,” he says in a serious voice as Lin-Mae comes closer. Her shoulder bag is slung across her, she’s ready to go. You frown at him quizzically; Faire’s been over for a solid two weeks, why is he referring to Lin-Mae like this? She must be confused as well because she shares your look of slight bemused bewilderment. “It has been one year and one day since you have bound me to this woman. I am here to state my intentions.”

Lin-Mae looks puzzled for a second longer before realization dawns for her.

And then it dawns for you too.

With a knowing smile, Lin-Mae says, “By all means, go ahead. But I hardly think I need to be here.” To you she says, “I’ll see you and Sarah tomorrow night?”

Mutely, you nod and Lin-Mae sees herself out, locking the door behind her.

“Pero…” you start. When you turn around, he’s kneeling down on one knee. “Pero,” you repeat, your throat clogged all of a sudden.

He says your name. “I love you. You’re the love of my life. You’re mi florecita and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you marry me?” Pero pulls a ring box out of his pocket and opens it, revealing a simple diamond ring.

You sink down to your knees so you’re on his level when you answer, a breathless, “Yes, Pero. Yes!” Wrapping your arms around him, you meet his lips for a kiss. When you break apart, he takes the ring out and slides it on your finger. “It was my abuela's,” he tells you before he picks you both up off the floor and takes you in his arms and kisses you soundly.

Just over a year ago, you never expected that you would get along with this man—the man who is now your fiancé—let alone be in love with him and want to spend your life with him. You’ve never been so wrong, or so glad to be wrong, in your entire life.

The End

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #the great wall #the great wall movie #my writing #my fic #modern pero tovar

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yoosmekihyun · 4 months

Text

Conversations in the Dark (pt. 1)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (eventually), we run the spectrum of emotions here

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related), more possible warnings in the future

Author’s Note: This is pure wish fulfillment and written for my own joy. I haven’t put out anything in at least five years and this is the first time I’ve written something multi-part. I’m not sure how this will go, how long it will be, or how often I will post/update.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

The remnants of summer still lingered in the warm September afternoon as you stepped out of the cab in front of the coffee shop. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were still a little early but that’s how you preferred it. This would allow you to order your drink and calm your nerves a little before she arrived.

When your turn came at the counter, you took the barista’s suggestion of the monthly special and moved to wait for your drink. Looking around you noticed the little pieces of fall décor another employee was putting up around the shop giving it a cozier vibe. Once the barista called your name, you found a small empty table in a corner that would allow you to watch the door and enjoy the city street chaos through the large window next to you.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve racking as it was but while you had spoken with your half-sister several times over the last year, you hadn’t seen her in person since your father’s funeral a little over a year ago. You prayed this was a good idea. You needed a win after the heaviness you had dealt with over the last few years. You needed some joy and connection, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity but now you were second guessing yourself.

Just as you were beginning to spiral and doubt your decision for the umpteenth time that day, you heard the ding of the door and watched your half-sister, Karen Page, rush in searching for you. The moment she saw you, she broke into a huge smile and hurried over to envelop you in a hug.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it safely! I hope you weren’t waiting long; I told Matt and Foggy I needed to leave sooner but they’re drowning in a sea of paperwork for a case, and we lost track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it! I’m usually early and you’re only a couple minutes late. No harm, no foul.” You released her from the hug and in that instant, you knew you had made the right decision. You didn’t realize how much you needed a hug from family until that moment and you felt more settled than you had in weeks.

“Do we need to postpone so you can get back to the office? Are you on a time crunch?” you asked.

“Oh, hell no, we are not postponing! They’ll be fine without me for a little while. I want to caffeinate while I hear about how you’re feeling now that you’re here!”

-X-

Your biological father may have been a world class asshole, but at least he had the decency to tell you and Karen about each other before he died. It was weird growing up as an only child to find out as an adult that you had a sister, especially when you had so desperately wished for one when you were younger. For her part, Karen could have decided she didn’t want a sister, but she welcomed you into her life with open arms. Admittedly, you struggled some, not because you were unhappy to find out about her, but because the news came during one of the worst times of your life.

If you had a terrible biological father, then luckily, you had the most amazing mother you could have asked for. When you and Karen found out about each other, you had just received news that your mother had been diagnosed with cancer for the second time. This time, it was late-stage and had spread with abysmal survival rates. This news alone meant your plate was beyond full. The idea of figuring out how to grieve the parent who didn’t want you while struggling to accept the awful news about your mother was overwhelming. It was nothing to say of the struggles to cultivate a new relationship with your sister under your poorly hidden sorrow, but Karen had been lovely and understanding. She did so much of the early legwork to develop your relationship, checking on you when she knew you were focused on your mother and often reminding you to do basic tasks to take care of yourself.

When your mother passed in the late spring, you were understandably devastated. She had been your sounding board your entire life and, without her, you felt unmoored. Thankfully, Karen had been there. She hadn’t been able to come to the funeral, but she called you every day for the first couple weeks after to make sure you were eating, hydrating, and showering. She listened to your stories and cried with you when the grief threatened to eat you alive.

During a conversation expressing your untethered feelings, Karen raised the idea that led you to the coffee shop in the midst of Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey, I know you’re not sure what to do but…what if you moved here? Maybe a big change of pace and scenery will help you move forward.”

If you were being honest, moving to New York was an idea you had for a long time. You had applied to Columbia and NYU in your final year of high school but a full ride to a local university secured your undergrad path. Despite this decision, you never let go of the idea of New York. When Karen tentatively suggested the idea, it was like your mother was holding a huge neon sign for you, telling you to get off your ass and GO! A light burst into life within you, and you scrambled to make the arrangements so you could move as soon as possible.

-X-

Once Karen had her coffee and settled into her seat, you relayed some of your travel mishaps and your ideas and loose plans for her input.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe I’m here. It’s all still so surreal. But I’m hoping the apartment hunting will help ground me a little and once I can actually get my things here, it’ll start to sink in.”

“That makes sense. I imagine it’ll feel more like a vacation until you have your things around you. I’m so glad you’re here to experience fall in New York! I think you’ll love it,” Karen gushed, beaming at you.

As you grinned at Karen, you felt a peace and a warmth spread in your chest that you hadn’t felt since before your mom passed. You reached across the table and grasped her hand. “Thank you, Karen, for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you this last year. I’m so grateful you’re my sister.”

Karen’s eyes started to well up as she gripped your hand in return, “I’m grateful you’re my sister too.”

Shocking you both out of the moment, Karen’s phone buzzed, and she rolled her eyes once she saw the caller ID. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He knows I’m with you so I’m not sure why Foggy’s calling.” You waved her to answer it, unbothered by the interruption as it gave you a moment to reign in your emotions a little more. You didn’t need to start sobbing in the middle of a coffee shop; you’d have your bigger emotions in private later.

You took a sip of your coffee as you heard Karen’s exasperated tone, “Yes Foggy I know it’s a big deal. YES, I know we need the revenue. Okay, okay but you both know why I took an extended break and who I’m with…Seriously?? Now? Ugh, fine. You both owe me AND Y/N for interrupting.”

Karen sighed as she ended the call and looked at you apologetically. Before she could even say anything, you started, “Let me guess, they need you back ASAP because they don’t know how to function without you?”

She chuckled and confirmed, “Basically. He also asked me to bring back coffee. They’re losing steam fast. If you’re not too tired, do you want to walk back with me? You can meet them, so you know who to look for when we get drinks at Josie’s tonight!”

“Wait, what’s Josie’s?”

“It’s this local dive bar that Matt and Foggy love and they want to welcome you to the city! We planned on going tonight if you felt up to it, but we can do another night or somewhere else if that works better for you?”

You could tell Karen was a little nervous. Whether it was encouraging you to meet her co-workers and friends so quickly or having you go drinking your first night in an unfamiliar city, you didn’t know but you wanted to start living your life, not hide away in a hotel room.

“That all sounds great! I love a good dive bar, sounds like my kind of place.”

Fresh coffees in hand, you and Karen made your way back to her office making small talk about the neighborhood and places to consider when you went apartment hunting the following day with a recommended broker. You wanted to be near Karen, not necessarily in her building, but within walking distance so it would be easy to see each other when you wanted.

You nearly missed the sign “Nelson, Murdock, and Page” until Karen directed you to the door next to it. Once you made it to the interior door, you could hear the loud voices before Karen opened the office door.

“I come bearing caffeine. If you want it, stop arguing and get out here so you can meet my sister!”

You heard chairs scraping right before you saw a tall, blonde man with a huge smile step out of a side room. Holding out his hand for you to shake he said, “Hi! I’m Franklin Nelson but you can call me Foggy.”

Unable to hold back your grin, you took his hand for a quick shake and replied “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The sheer happiness and light that shone out of Foggy reminded you of your mother. You knew this man was going to be your friend, come hell or highwater.

Behind Foggy you could hear a shuffling sound and you peered around him. Once you saw the other man, you nearly forgot to breathe. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you gazed at easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen in person. Like Foggy, he had his sleeves rolled up to just under the elbow and the top button of his shirt was undone along with a loosened tie. His red reflective glasses did nothing to distract from the sharp jawline and days-old stubble. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he had recently been running a hand through it. As beautiful as he was standing before you, you were most distracted by his mouth. It was lush and soft while still looking deliciously male and it was quirked up on one side like he was in on some kind of joke you had missed.

Loudly, someone cleared their throat and shook you out of your stare. You realized you had missed something as Karen looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk and Foggy was shaking his head while rolling his eyes.

You gave a little embarrassed chuckle as your cheeks flushed, “Um, sorry, what did I miss? I’m a little out of it, all the excitement and travel today.”

The beautiful man gave a full smile and you nearly stopped breathing again. He stepped forward and with one hand extended, he repeated,

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Matt Murdock.”

#matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil fic #matthew murdock #conversations in the dark #miss pearl writes #yoosmekihyun

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thistle-and-thorn · 25 days

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Your fanfics live rent free in my head. Your manner of prose has made me so much more picky now though. Any recommendations for fic authors or book authors with similar styles?

Oh this is a very generous ask! And I'm going to be completely indulgent and give you lots and lots of very long answers.

A couple disclaimers: I'm not sure that these are really similar to my style, but these are writers/works that I find very inspirational/educational. Also, I will read pretty much any ship so some of these may not be to your taste. Apologies in advance! And I will fully admit that I do not read much fanfiction, especially Sansa/Tyrion fanfiction anymore, because reading similar content makes it a lot harder for me to write stories myself. If there's any oversights, fully on me.

Fanfic--There are so many good fics and incredible writers and if you ever have specific requests for ships or fandoms, I will happily continue to scream about stories I love but I am going to use the opportunity to tell you about my mutuals. Because I think the appreciation and love you have for the people you meet because you connect with their writing is a very special thing.

@attonitos-gloria--nonny, I am guessing that you know Her. The Undisputed Queen of Sanrion. However, it is frankly a moral obligation that I have to shout her out. Getting to beta for her is one of the joys of my life and has just given me the deepest appreciation for her craft. She has the best and quickest mind for plot and world-building I've truly ever encountered and a natural instinct for pacing and dialogue. She knows how to turn a phrase and she understands the cycle of how a character feeds into plot to construct a theme and how to leverage it for maximum effect (TBT to the TKC-fueled Spiritual Crisis of 2020). But really, really, really what makes her one of my favorite writers and one of my most re-read writers, fanfic or traditionally published, is how much she loves the characters. Every work is an act of love and compassion, and you can tell.

@coffeeandorange--The thing that I am always left with when I am done reading a Coffee StoryTM is a sense of clarity. Like, this is work that cuts through a lot of the fandom B.S to get to the heart and muscle of the thing (whatever it may be). Here is where you're going to find the perfect intersection of ingenuity, originality, and just really good writing. I am really struggling with how to adequately describe the writing without feeling reductive, but the word that keeps coming to mind is clean. But what I think I really mean is that I always have the sense that the language, that the use of language, is precise because it knows what it's saying. It is simply the form that best embodies that clarity. I have such an appreciation for the contrasts that coffee allows you to sit with: the joyful tragedy in The Way Home, the gruff intimacy in The Cat-king; the beggar boy, and the sharp tenderness in Shame Will Not Hold Down Your Eyes. They are stories that never shy away from the knots and complications in canon and I really, really, really admire that. I love when someone trusts their reader to sit in life's penumbras and coffee does just that.

@charmtion--being mutuals with charmtion is like being mutuals with a celebrity. I genuinely feel like I rediscover words, like literal words (fluted! why don't i use the word fluted!), when I read her stories. When I first started sharing my writing, I would study her sentence construction and try to figure out how I could be Like That. Reading charm feels like stepping into a fantasia, whether it's American high school or Irish mob house or Westeros. But beyond just sheer style, there is such a deep, dark, tender core to charm's writing. Her ability to mine small moments to show you what grief and desire looks like is something that I really admire.

Books: These are books, old favorites or new, that have inspired things that I've written, or thought about while writing, or just made have that Oh My God To Share Stories is the Greatest Gift:

Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis: Possibly how Attonitos and I became friends? That's the lore I'm going with. This is heavy on the Christian theology, but can be enjoyed just as a damn good novel. Lewis has had a huge influence on my spiritual and moral life, and he is at his best here. A perfect psychological portrait of Psyche and the single best myth retelling/revisioning I've ever read.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan: I just read this and it is a total favorite of mine now. A writer who explores the complications of kindness, rather than the banality of evil. CK doesn't tell you a thing but uses the small details of everyday life to force your examination of your own morality.

The Queen's Thief series by Meghan Whalen Turner: I'm a parody of myself. But like. They're really good, okay???????????

Literally Any book by Hilary Mantel--Probably my favorite traditionally published writer. Her books are tough--my favorite are the Cromwell books--and the language is tough to get into. But when you finally are immersed, it's magic. She changed how I thought about how to write permanently.

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter: This book is probably the one that has had the biggest, biggest influence on how I write. I can read her stories over and over and over again. Her use of language and image. Her eroticism. *chef's kiss*

Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente-- This was rec'd to me by tumblr's arbiter of good taste and curator of beauty @palominojacoby. I wrote an unhinged essay about this book on my secret sideblog that explains my feelings more but in short: this book is how you use fairytales and sex, my friends. The political is the personal. Very personal.

Say Nothing by Patrick Radden Keefe--I read a lot of non-fiction. I have a massive ethical issue with the way he deals with the end of the book but the questions he raises about the moral wound is seriously influencing crows + locusts. Particularly the as-yet unpublished fourth installment.

#asks #thistle simulations

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