#will be updated as new fics and chapters appear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morallyinept · 2 months

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For anyone who needs to hear this today...

Dieter and I are just weighing in on some of the conversations floating around where people are feeling like they're not wanted here, or who feel like they might want to leave...

You ARE absolutely wanted here.

Whether you're a creator, reader, silent lurker. It doesn't matter if you have 1 follower or 10k. Whether you write one chapter every few weeks, or churn out fics on the daily.

This is a fandom, not a competition.

You. Are. All. Wanted. Here.

Tumblr, for want of a better analogy, is a crap factory of a website. 😝 It's gone down the pan in the last decade massively, and it's the complete opposite of what other social media platforms do, (in terms of likes and algorithims etc... you have to re-blog everything - not like it - here to get any traction) you get out of Tumblr what you put in, effectively.

No-one here is better than anyone else, we're all part of that big Pedro table and continuously squish up to make room for everyone. And if anyone isn't doing that, then they should be the one's to leave, not you.

I get it. I feel it too. I've contemplated leaving several times. Yeah. It's a hard place sometimes to try and make a tiny space of it your own.

☝🏻But remember, even the biggest blogs on here started off with zero followers and had to build their niche from scratch. Rome wasn't built in a day.

It takes time and effort. It might look like it's easy for others, but it really isn't. And I'm in no way a "big blog" in the slightest.

But I stay here doing my own thing, because ultimately, I love writing and creating - it makes me happy, and I love the sense of community here.

I get immense joy out of making my silly banners and posts, and having a giggle with like-minded people when Pedro shaves his beard off (🫠). I ignore the drama and focus on having a positive time here.

But I get that doesn't work for everybody. Sometimes it's hard to tune all the fuzz out, right? It's massively overwhelming some days on here - I feel ya, bub.

The level of talent in this fandom is incredible, but it often leaves you feeling like "where do I begin?" Or "who do I talk to?" And "how do I talk to someone without coming across as weird?" And "how the hell do I re-blog everything and reply to comments and remember to answer DM's and Asks, whilst remembering to update my WIP and see what my fav blogs have posted, and catch up on that fic I like..? 🤯

In short, you can't.

You simply can't do everything.

And you shouldn't try to either as that's when you'll burn out and when things start feeling overwhelming. Then your enjoyment wanes and then that's when you feel like you want to give it all in.

Just breathe.

The best advice I can give (and I'm no expert!) is to curate your own experience here as best as you can.

Eliminate that overwhelming feeling to make your Tumblr time and space enjoyable.

Make it work for you and your needs.

Some easy things you can do that might help:

Update your notifications - I personally filter out the likes, otherwise I find I miss notifs like new followers or comments etc... Tumblr can be glitchy as hell too, so by removing the likes, you can see all the stuff you don't wanna miss. To turn them off, go into your activity (app version) and hit custom, scroll down to custom again and then untick likes:

There's a new option now to subscribe to specific blogs you like and adjust your home feed settings to that. You click on the blogs themselves and add them to get notifications and then they'll appear under Blog Subs on your feed. You can then switch through feeds to just see the blogs you've added, rather than everyone you follow. It's then easy to switch between feeds:

Limit your time here - if it starts to feel overwhelming, take a break! That's your brain telling you that you might need it. We'll all still be here when you come back. Don't compromise your peace of mind or happiness for the sake of scrolling for hours.

If you're a creator and have writer's block etc... again, take that break! Whether it's a day or a week, or a year. Take as long as you need. Those that are worth it will still be here and will wait patiently for you. Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourself. And if anyone does pressure you, block them.

Forget the numbers. I know, I know, it's easier said than done. Of course we want re-blogs and engagement, it's why we're here and putting our work out there. We wouldn't do it if we didn't want that engagement. But don't let the numbers be the main reason why you do it, otherwise your expectation can often be met with a harsh reality when it doesn't go how you think it will. Do it because it makes you happy, first and foremost. There will always be someone who looks forward to what you put out there.

If you want engagement, you need to engage back. This community survives and thrives on sharing. Re-blog everything you like. Re-blogging is the number one must on Tumblr. It's how the site works. Likes are lovely, but it's simply just a book marking feature here, which is essentially useless as your likes get pushed to the bottom of your like pile the more you like things. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING. By re-blogging you can also use tags so you can easily find things again. Liked that Frankie Morales fic you read last week? Re-blog it with the tag 'Frankie Morales' for example, and then you can search your own blog to find everything you've ever tagged with 'Frankie Morales'. You can even schedule re-blogs in advance too. You can't do any of that with likes. You'd have to scroll through every single like you've ever liked to find it again... and ain't no-one got time for that. If you're someone who is asking for engagement, you need to be prepared to give it back. I repeat, RE-BLOG EVERYTHING!

"Yeah, but if I re-blog everything, my aesthetic will be compromised, or my blog will be bulky and I might annoy everyone by appearing on their feed too much..." These are all valid concerns, but you can simply make a side blog specific for re-blogging things if you want. Whatever way you choose to do it, re-blog, re-blog, re-blog!

Be bold and reach out using DM's and ASK's. I don' think there's a single writer or artist out there who doesn't like getting a comment or a message complimenting their work. And we all love to chat about it, and that's an easy way in and to make friends too! It can be daunting, but I assure you if you're polite and kind, people will want to engage back with you. We all have one thing in common here at least - Pedro! 🥰

Sometimes, it can feel like everyone has their own friend groups or cliques and it can be hard to find your own community within a community. Almost everyone I engage with on a daily basis here, new and old users, are some of the nicest, kindest people I've spoken to. You really have nothing to be afraid of. They're just like you - they want to talk and make friends.

These are just some tips that I've found have worked for me on my own Tumblr journey with quelling that overwhelming feeling. And I hope they can help you in some way, especially if you're contemplating being here right now.

You might feel that what you put out there isn't appreciated because it doesn't get the notes or engagement you want, but I promise you, there is always someone who you have touched with your words and work.

Be kind to yourself and know that you really are a valued part of this fandom.

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

Self-Care With Dieter & Jett

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #you are stronger than you think #do you #then do dieter

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mangowillow · 1 month

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last to know | ch. 2: as always, even now

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst, hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: mentions of weight loss and a hospital, jeongguk has a panic attack (semi-detailed), problematic parent-child dynamics. let me know if i miss anything and please be kind!

word count: 5.3k

author's note: *peeks into the void* why hello there! let's pretend i didn't disappear off the face of the earth. earlier this year i went to see The Rose live for their dawn to dusk tour and it was so much fun! there's just a lot of things that have happened and continue to do so; please accept my sincerest apologies for being inconsistent! BUT. know that i haven't forgotten about this story. heh.

also a few more things: ♡ to put things into perspective: jeongguk, OC/reader, and woosung are all the same age; that also means they're as old as seokjin and yoongi in this fic. all the other members maintain their age. honorifics may or may not appear at times. if that bothers you, well, can't please everybody! ♡ this fic isn't beta'd nor proofread by anyone. we go rogue, always.

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

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Woosung plants a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggles.

Looking at him, you ask, “What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?” Woosung teases as he chews on his jjajangmyeon. You chuckle at his candidness and reach out to wipe the sauce that landed on the corner of his lip. The both of you resorted to sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes, using one of them as a makeshift table to place the food.

“I’m really happy you got to come today,” you muse, enjoying Woosung’s calming presence as he delicately places a piece of chicken karaage on your noodle bowl before setting his own down. You haven’t seen him for a few days because he needed to get some new music done in preparation for his application to a recording agency as a performer and a producer. You were more than happy to support him in any way you could, including giving him his space to figure things out. It was also who Woosung was— a quiet soul who liked working in solitude.

You and Woosung are so much alike.

“Why? Did you think I’d forget?” Woosung teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No, I just thought… maybe you needed more time to prepare for your application. That’s important.”

Woosung gently shakes his head, ready to disagree— “Nothing will ever be as important to me as you.”

A slight pink dusted your cheeks. You didn’t expect him to be this cheesy so early in the morning so you smile and cast your eyes back down to your meal.

“... I do have news for you, babe.” Woosung starts. He turns his body to face you. Giving your hundred percent attention, you cut the noodles with your teeth and place the bowl down. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you hum at his statement, “What is it?”

Woosung smiles and looks at you lovingly. You feel a bit self-conscious every time he stares at you so intensely and like clockwork, you feel your cheeks heat up.

“I got the job, sweetheart.”

Hearing the news leave his lips leaves you surprised— your hands fly to your mouth and your eyes start to water. “R-really?” Woosung nods and chuckles through his own teary eyes, you throw yourself at him to give him a tight hug. “Woosung, oh my god— this is— “ you hold him by the shoulders, explore every inch of his face, elation in both of your hearts— “this is great, oh gosh I am so happy for you,” you hug him again.

You feel Woosung’s body relax instantly in your hold; it has been a journey, walking with Woosung through his own painful moments struggling with his art and passion. Two years ago, he came to Seoul desperately needing a break from life and music after many unsuccessful attempts to make it into the music industry back home in the United States. Although he and his bandmates have put out several songs in the past, they never really gained as much traction with an audience as they had hoped. Going back home to his roots in South Korea also meant leaving his bandmates behind— they have been nothing but supportive of him and his time as they also needed to re-assess their own lives and figure out what they truly wanted.

Two years ago, Woosung also met you. Both your lives changed ever since.

“Thank you for all your support, ____… you know I wouldn’t have been able to get through all this if it weren’t for you.” Woosung whispers, tightening his hold on your waist. You feel this, you feel everything when it comes to him— so you wrap your arms tighter around him, too. “This is all you, babe. This is all your hard work.”

You both stay that way for a while. Unspoken words are left hanging, as well. You both know well what might become of all this as you always try to communicate. You believe it is what has sustained your relationship for so long.

Both of you know that Woosung will always belong to music— it’s his dream and the reason why he took so many risks along the way. It was only a matter of when. The possibilities have always been there— should there be a moment where Woosung would return to his career, to his band, to becoming a global star. The fears that come along with those possibilities were also ever-present: what you and Woosung’s future would look like.

All of these thoughts come rushing to the both of you, but neither of you said anything.

For now, the both of you are happy. And that is enough.

When you parted from each other, you pushed away some of the hair that fell over Woosung’s eyes. “When do you start?”

Woosung takes a deep breath, “As soon as the higher-ups get settled in. I’ve been told they’ve recently landed in Seoul so it shouldn’t be too long now. I’ll be meeting with the owners and one of them is the lead producer. I heard he was a genius, but also a bit scary. They’ve also given me a signing bonus and a potential collaboration with him… that was new… he said they liked my work so much…”

“Wow, that… that sounds so exciting, baby. How are you feeling about all of this?”

“I’m nervous, for the most part,” Woosung murmurs, readjusting the collar of his shirt. It’s been a while since I talked to someone else about music professionally and… this company— I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. For one, it was built by musicians, too. So I’m hoping they’re not just doing all of it for the business.”

You smile warmly at Woosung and hold his hands. “You’re going to do great, you know that, right?”

Woosung draws in a breath and nods before meeting your eyes.

That night, Woosung couldn’t sleep. He watches over you as you dream and when a strand of your hair falls on your face after moving a bit, he tucks it behind your ear. His fingers lightly dance while grazing the side of your face. Woosung sighs as a feeling of anxiety starts to creep into his heart. He loves change, but he cannot help but feel somewhat scared about it anyway. He gets so lost in his thoughts about you that he doesn’t notice you wake up.

“Baby, hey… you’re still awake.”

Your voice brings Woosung back to the present. Seeing your sleepy eyes under the sliver of moonlight that passes through your window makes his heart do a mini somersault— it always does.

“Hmm… I couldn’t sleep,” Woosung says. You scoot closer to him, his arm going under your shoulders to support your body in an embrace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” you whisper, eyes closed, inhaling his scent— him.

“Just… things. I’m not sure how to articulate them yet…”

You hum, “Then I’ll just stay like this with you to keep you warm… warmth helps you sleep, right?”

Woosung nods, bringing your body closer to his. “Hm… especially your warmth.” Seconds later, he feels you breathe deeper, letting him know that you’re about to let yourself succumb to sleep once more. “I love you.”

When no response came from you, Woosung closed his eyes. Then suddenly, in the stillness of the night, he feels your hand squeeze his ever so lightly.

“I love you, too.”

“Hyung, I think that’s the salt—” Jimin starts.

Seokjin snorts, stopping with the shaker in his hand mid-air, “What do you mean, Jimin-ah, I think I know the difference between salt and sugar.” He was about to potentially put salt on the croffle in front of him, leaving Jimin feeling both very nervous and distressed.

“Last time, I remember you put the sugar in a different container because a customer accidentally broke the original shaker. The color of the cap was blue, not red. This—” he pointed at the shaker Seokjin was holding, “— is obviously not blue.”

“Yah, that happened last week, but I already switched them out two days ago—” Seokjin tries to argue.

They didn’t notice Woosung enter the cafe until he spoke, “Why don’t you just taste it?”

“Oh hey, Woosung-hyung,” Jimin greets.

“Hey, Jimin. Good to see you,” Woosung replies as Jimin nods, his eyes turning into crescents as soon as he smiles.

Seokjin scoffs once more before greeting Woosung, but he relents and tastes whatever is inside the shaker. When he makes a funny face, Jimin and Woosung chuckle.

“Told ya, hyung. Tell us I saved your life.”

“I can’t believe this is salt, I knew I already switched it out—”

With possible disaster averted, Jimin doesn’t listen to Seokjin’s monologue anymore, “You’re here early today, hyung. Would you like to order the usual?”

“Actually, I am here to buy a mango parfait… ____’s fridge is crazy cold and the frozen mangoes are, well, too frozen. I might actually break the blender. I also forgot to make her usual overnight oats. We had to move a lot of things very quickly yesterday so she could have a bed to sleep on.”

“I got you, hyung. We just finished making a fresh batch of parfaits. Do you want one, too?” Jimin asks.

“Are there other flavors?”

“Blueberry and strawberry,” Seokjin adds.

“I’ll take one blueberry, then. Thanks.” Woosung gets ready to pay, but Seokjin waves him away. “It’s on the house.”

“You always give us free stuff, Seokjin—” Woosung tries to argue, but Seokjin shakes his head immediately.

“Taking care of my sister is more than enough, Woosung-ah.”

Woosung gives Seokjin a tight smile and nods. Seokjin then asks, albeit softer, “How is she doing lately?”

“She’s doing better,” Woosung reassures. “She has been painting more recently; not just because of her job at the university, but also at home. We’re going to set up her studio today so it should be fun.”

“That’s good to hear, right hyung?” Jimin turns to Seokjin, who nods. Jimin hands Woosung a paper bag with the parfaits. “I put some new desserts we’re experimenting with. Please give them a try.”

Woosung peeks at the paper bag and sees croissants and greenish muffins, presumably matcha-flavored. “Oh wow, thank you Jimin… I won’t take up too much of your time, guys. ____ is still sleeping and I need to clean up the mango disaster I left on her kitchen counter before she wakes up.”

Seokjin chuckles, “You really came all the way here for parfaits when you could have bought these anywhere near ____’s apartment.”

“Ah, but nothing beats your parfaits, Seokjin. A wise man once told me that,” Woosung smiles. He and Seokjin instantly formed a bond the moment they met two years ago, much to your relief. You’ve always been nervous to tell your brother anything remotely new about your love life— and you understand where he is coming from.

“Well whoever that wise man is must be pretty smart,” Seokjin replies. His eyes soften right afterward. “Go. Let’s have a drink sometime, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” Woosung waves goodbye to Seokjin and Jimin.

Jeongguk walks the hallway of the recording studio, still groggy from sleep. Hands in his pockets, he stood outside Yoongi’s door, staring at his peculiar mat: a cat with its middle finger raised, the words ‘fuck off’ glaring at him. Figures, he thought. A doormat won’t stop him from ringing Yoongi’s doorbell, though.

“Who is it?” he hears Yoongi call out.

“It’s your favorite person in the whole wide world,” Jeongguk says, sarcasm lacing his voice. He pinched the bridge of his nose; a habit he developed in college whenever he felt the exhaustion seep out of him. He hears scuffling from the other side of the door until the sound of the door’s automatic lock rings. Jeongguk sees Yoongi clad in a plaid shirt, ripped jeans, and a gray beanie— his signature style.

“Dumbass,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before turning his back to return to his equipment. “Good morning to you too,” Jeongguk teases as he closes the door behind him.

“How are you already set up? It’s barely a day since we arrived!”

Yoongi chooses not to respond.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Jeongguk asks in disbelief. “Please tell me you at least went home to get your shit sorted? Or maybe sleep like normal human beings do?”

“I did… for a brief moment, maybe?” Yoongi starts.

Jeongguk shakes his head, “You have to stop spreading yourself thin, Yoongi. It’ll be the death of you.”

Yoongi fiddles with a few knobs on the synthesizer before muttering, “That doesn’t seem so bad— spreading myself too thin, that is.”

Jeongguk throws his hands up in surrender and rolls his eyes.

“Have I succeeded in frustrating you to hell and back, yet?” Yoongi smirks while continuing to flit his eyes through the numerous screens in front of him.

Jeongguk was about to say something but then the door alarm clicked. Kim Namjoon’s head peeks out from behind the door.

“I came to say my welcome remarks,” Namjoon says as he lets himself in. Jeongguk’s mouth falls open because he couldn’t believe Namjoon could just easily waltz in without any resistance. What’s even more astounding was that he knew Yoongi’s passcode— while he, on the other hand, had to ring the fucking doorbell.

“Oh, great. So your boyfriend knows your passcode and I don’t?” Jeongguk asks.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Yoongi states, matter-of-factly. Jeongguk couldn’t help but glance at Namjoon’s way, who seemed unfazed.

“Right, and I’m Neil Armstrong,” Jeongguk plops down on the couch.

“You’re the CEO, Jeongguk, of course, you should know the passcode… right, Yoongi?” says Namjoon, ever the oblivious one.

Yoongi continues to do work on his computer, his fingers deftly flying across his keyboard, “Don’t encourage him, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks back at Jeongguk who has now taken an interest in the plant beside the couch. When they met each other’s eyes, Namjoon just shrugged, his dimples showing.

“How was your flight, you guys? I hope everything was easy peasy.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” Jeongguk responds. “Not sure about Yoongi here though. He looked like he was about to puke.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi retaliates.

“I can’t imagine the both of you tolerating each other while in another country. It’s a miracle this production company is still standing upright,” Namjoon says chuckling.

Namjoon met Jeongguk first in university while they studied in New York. Although Jeongguk was a business student and Namjoon double majored in music theory and composition, they ran into each other at a frat party-— with Jeongguk being drunk off his ass. He was about to fall into the pool full of piss (which the other frat members thought was funny) when Namjoon saved him in the nick of time.

Apart from Yoongi, Namjoon also served as Jeongguk’s confidant, especially after things went south between you and Jeongguk. When the dust settled and Jeongguk was sober enough to realize the gravity of his mistakes, Namjoon helped Yoongi pick up the pieces of Jeongguk’s brokenness. As with time passing by, Namjoon and Yoongi started to develop into something more, too. Much to Jeongguk’s delight and envy.

However, neither Yoongi nor Namjoon has admitted their feelings to the other. And truth be told, Jeongguk is sick of them dancing around each other.

But he also knows it’s none of his business.

“Hey, Jeongguk, is that family dinner of yours still happening tonight?” Yoongi decides to ask. Also probably to change the subject.

Jeongguk lets out a deep sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Ouch. Will you be alright?” Namjoon asks out of genuine concern.

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, Jeongguk-ah,” Yoongi inserts. “You just need to work on making the right ones.”

Jeongguk slacks his jaw and runs his tongue across his lip ring. He doesn’t really have an answer to that.

Because once again, Yoongi was right. Not just about the damn family dinner; Jeongguk also knows his best friend’s words run deeper and imply a whole lot more than just feeling forced to sit down with his parents over steak and champagne.

“See you on the other side, then,” Namjoon says as he pats Jeongguk on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Jeongguk mulled over bringing flowers to the family dinner but decided against it.

He knows that the house would be filled with them, anyway. And his efforts won’t matter, either.

As he got out of his car, a chauffeur was already by his side ready to take his keys for him. When the car drove off, Jeongguk took a moment to look at the house he hadn’t lived in for years. It feels odd to come home; it feels even odder to feel numb about all of it.

It took Jeongguk a few seconds to ring the doorbell; for god’s sake, it was his house too, he thought. Ringing the doorbell meant he was a stranger— which he felt was appropriate.

He was greeted by a new housekeeper. He gave her a nod before stepping inside. Almost instantly, his mother appeared at the top of the staircase. They look at one another for a moment, before his mother breaks the silence.

“You finally decide to show yourself.”

Jeongguk doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond, either. He was prepared for a stare-off match with his mother, but that was until his father showed up from the kitchen. With a dish towel in hand, Jeongguk’s father smiled at him as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

Jeongguk, once more, doesn’t have it in him to respond.

At the dinner table, the silence was so loud, that Jeongguk thought it could break glass.

“Did you settle in fine, Jeongguk?” his father asks.

“Yes, father, I did.”

“You should have chosen a place that was nearer to us, Jeongguk,” his mother chides.

“Honey…” Jeongguk’s father tries to put out a fire that is about to ignite. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was so tired from the flight and emotionally, that he felt a need to retaliate.

Because why not? Whether he speaks up or not wasn’t really up to him. Between him and his mother, he has nothing to lose.

“I don’t know, mother, I chose that place because I wanted to get away from here as much as possible.” Jeongguk remarks. He knows he hit a nerve because his mother downed her champagne rather than respond.

“How is the company going, son? Everything doing alright?” his father asks, trying to mitigate a conflict that neither of them could recover from.

“I guess. Yoongi and I haven’t managed to burn anything so that’s nice,” Jeongguk eats a spoonful of mashed potato. He knows he really needs to shut up and regulate his emotions, but he just can’t help but be sarcastic.

Once more, the silence won. However, Jeongguk’s mother is the type to not back down.

“You should think about getting married soon, Jeongguk—” she starts. Jeongguk feels himself grow cold as if on instinct.

“—and this time, we want you to marry someone your level,” she finishes. Jeongguk felt his heart twisting so painfully that he didn’t notice how tight he held on to his cutlery.

Jeongguk swallows the once-repressed pain that used to consume him whole. He knows this is futile because he never dares to face his regrets square in the face. Instead, he allows the pain to make him angry. He allows his resentment to consume him in ways he doesn’t know how to handle and in a pained effort to avoid causing further damage, he remains quiet. Unresponsive. Cold. Withdrawn.

But his own mother is even more cold-hearted than he is. She is the one who made him like this.

It’s her fault.

“You need to marry a good woman who can keep up with your social status. Remember you’re not just anyone, Jeongguk. You’re a Jeon. And you have a legacy to uphold,” his mother condescends.

Tears start to sting Jeongguk’s eyes, but he doesn’t want to let his mother win. So he keeps still.

“I have a few prospects for you, dear. We should set dates for them, don’t you think so? I chose the most refined and educated—” Jeongguk hates how his mother knows how to push his buttons and hurt him.

He knows that his mother knows his ultimate weakness.

You.

And because his mother cannot contain her insecurities and prejudice, she projects it all on her son. But most especially, you— whether you were in the room or not.

Jeongguk’s mother continues her monologue. His father miserably fails to become the referee (he always does). Heat starts to rise Jeongguk’s neck and he swears he could hear his own blood pumping through his ears. What almost immediately follows is the high-pitched ringing that only he can hear.

Jeongguk starts to feel dizzy; like he’s about to lose control.

But instead of releasing, instead of crying, instead of getting angry— he does none of them.

He finds himself standing up, his hands dragging the plate full of food to the ground. With all his might, Jeongguk tries to breathe deeply.

“That’s enough, mom.” Jeongguk croaks. A tear escapes his eye. “Please.”

Jeongguk rarely addresses her as “mom”. But in times of vulnerability and helplessness, it’s the term he ends up using.

“As I expected… you are still weak, Jeongguk.” his mother states with absolutely no remorse.

Jeongguk feels like he is about to throw up. To save himself, he drags his legs to leave the dining area. Housekeepers try to help him, but he brushes them aside. Security guards around the house up until the gate tried to support him, but Jeongguk just waved them all off.

He just needed to get away before his vision completely blurred. He needed to get out of this godforsaken house.

It was a miracle that Jeongguk got far away from the house as he had. But in doing so, he felt physically weaker and weaker. His mind isn’t done with him yet as thoughts of you start to resurface. His chest starts to tighten again. He feels cold and afraid and tired.

Jeongguk falls to his knees on the side of the road; he allows his body to go limp and fall to the ground.

He barely remembers what happened next.

When Jeongguk opens his eyes, bright, stale lights greet him.

He hears beeping, faint footsteps, a voice over an intercom.

He feels something brushing his leg so gently that it takes him a while before realizing that someone is standing over him, wiping the edge of his slacks.

Jeongguk squints his eyes to get a better look at the person touching his leg. When he tries to elevate his upper body, the person in front of him feels him moving.

Jeongguk couldn’t believe who he was seeing. His panic attack must still be happening because it was impossible.

It was you.

“Oh… hi,” you start. Jeongguk is at a loss for words so he continues to stare at you.

You immediately feel self-conscious so you start to wrangle the damp cloth you were holding.

“Are you okay? Hang on, I’ll call the nurse—”

You start to leave, but Jeongguk catches your wrist. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You look at his hand on your wrist before Jeongguk lets go of it.

“W-what happened?”

“You’re at the hospital… um, I– I got a call from them saying you were here,” you say.

Jeongguk’s eyebrows met. He is still confused as to how or why the hospital would call you. As he looks at you, in the flesh, in front of him, the familiar ache in his chest threatens to overwhelm him again.

You look as beautiful as ever, even more so than the last time he saw you. The last time he did, you were crying to him. He did that to you. That was his fault.

“Are you hurt, anywhere, Jeongguk? I think I need to call your doctor, just give me a second—”

“No… please. I’m okay. I don’t feel any pain.” Except for my broken heart.

“Oh… okay.”

Jeongguk observes you, more particularly your hands. You still have that habit of fiddling with your fingers when you didn’t know what to do, he thinks.

“H-how did the hospital call you? You didn’t change your number?” Jeongguk is a hundred percent sure his choice of questions was dumb, but he doesn’t have any idea as to why you’re here.

“The hospital told me I was your emergency contact… they uh– they only found your wallet on you and found this,” you explain as you handed him his wallet. Inside was an old piece of paper with your emergency contact number and e-mail address.

“The e-mail address is now defunct, but my number is still the same because I had it reactivated when I came back here…”

When I came back here, Jeongguk repeated to himself.

Jeongguk wanted to ask you a million questions, but his throat feels dry and he is unable to speak.

“I um, I also called Yoongi. He should be here any minute,” you continue. When Jeongguk looks at you funny, you give him a small smile— the first one you’ve given him since he woke up. “We talk sometimes.”

There is a lot of information that Jeongguk needs to process but his head hurts a lot and he makes a mental note to interrogate his friend later.

You move to grab and open the plastic bag that is on the bedside table. You pull out a pair of black socks. Jeongguk sees you hesitate a bit before speaking again.

“I got these across the street… your socks got wet from the rain.”

“Oh.” Jeongguk feels really dumb.

“May I?” you tentatively ask. “Your feet will get cold if we don’t—and you have the IV on so you won’t be able to use your hands—”

“It’s okay…” Jeongguk’s response startles you. “Thank you.”

You nod and sit by his feet to put on the new socks. Jeongguk feels the tears again but he tries to hold them back as he feels your touch and your warm fingers graze his bare, cold skin. When you’re done putting them on him, you smile to yourself.

“Does that feel better?” you ask.

Jeongguk nods and hums. He took his time to look at you and to his mild surprise, you reciprocated. A sense of stillness seemed to occur like time stopped just so Jeongguk could fully take in the sight of you.

He hurriedly tries his best to memorize all your features—old and new. Your face is smaller, your cheekbones higher; both indicative of you losing a bit of weight since he saw you last. Your eyes are softer, but also more tired. You also grew out your hair.

To Jeongguk, you are still so beautiful.

And he missed you so much that his heart hurt again at the thought of losing you.

“How are y—” Jeongguk tries to ask, but the door to his hospital room slid open, revealing a disheveled Yoongi.

“Jeongguk, are you okay? What happened?”

Jeongguk notices you quickly moving aside to give Yoongi room.

“I’m fine, Yoongi. I guess I just passed out and—”

“You had another panic attack, Jeongguk. That’s the second time this week. Have you taken your medication?”

Yoongi’s string of questions had Jeongguk feeling anxious. He just had the unexpected chance of seeing you again but under the most dire circumstances. Surely, it wasn’t the time for you to hear about his mental health issues.

“Yoongi, can we—” Jeongguk tried to save face, but Yoongi was faster.

Yoongi turns to you and hugs you. “I’m sorry, ____, you must have been so confused.”

“No, not at all, I’m… I’m glad I could be of help,” you reassure. More so for Jeongguk because you know this must be very awkward for him.

A bit of awkwardness did happen because none of you spoke for a bit. Your phone ringing was the only saving grace.

“Hello? Oh, okay. I’ll be right out,” you answer the other person on the line. Hanging up, you say, “Um… I should get going.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Yoongi asks.

“Yes, Taehyung’s just a few minutes away,” you answer.

Yoongi nods and pulls you in for another hug. He whispers his thanks and you respond by hugging him tighter.

You also approach Jeongguk a little closer. “Take care of yourself, Jeongguk.” You see the pain in his eyes, but you refuse to acknowledge it to yourself, even if Jeongguk’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears and his nose was already pink.

Jeongguk doesn’t want you to go. But again, he has no choice but to let you.

“You too, ____.”

As soon as you close the door, Jeongguk allows his tears to fall.

As soon as you get into the car, Taehyung asks his questions.

“Why the hell did you just come out of a hospital?”

“Tae—”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You’re the only one there? What happened?” You can feel the panic rising in Taehyung as he inspects you, but you just chuckle.

“Yah—you laugh?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung,” you tell him but he doesn’t look convinced. “I really am.”

“Then why were you in there?”

“I saw Jeongguk again, Tae,” you calmly respond.

Taehyung freezes. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not,” you answer.

“And you’re… are you okay?”

“I am.”

Taehyung knows you better than that but he gives you a pass because he could also tell you were tired and your short answers mean that you didn’t want to talk just yet.

“Do you want to talk about it over ice cream and fries?”

For a second, you felt tempted, but you just also wanted to go home. “Maybe some other time, Taehyung.”

Taehyung understands immediately and nods. “Should I take you to Woosung hyung or do I take you home?”

You do want to see Woosung because you know he is what you need, but you also don’t want to burden him with a bombshell of an event so you opt to be alone for the night. “Take me home, please.”

“Okay, ____,” Taehyung answers.

The rest of the car ride was a quiet one.

The short walk in the hallway leading to your home is a heavy one. As you punch in your passcode, you deeply sigh. You want nothing more than to collapse on the bed and ruminate on what just happened over the past few hours.

However, the moment you open the door, a wave of delicious scents welcomes you home. As you take off your shoes, you see a familiar pair. You smile to yourself as you place yours beside it.

You enter your home further and see Woosung with his back to you, working his way in the kitchen. As if on cue, Woosung turns around and walks toward you.

“Hey you,” you say with a smile.

“Hi,” Woosung responds, gathering you in his arms and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Did you have a good day, today?”

You feel yourself swallow once before nodding. Woosung, ever the sensitive boyfriend, holds you tighter.

You know you can’t hide from him. So you hold on to him tighter, too.

And you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Woosung feels your body shake and he runs his hand across your back to soothe you.

He may not know what’s going on right now, but he also knows you will talk to him when you’re ready. So he continues to embrace you; kissing the side of your head after a while.

Woosung whispers against your ear, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

taglist: @whoa-jo @nays2112 @junecat18 @jk97bam @butterymin @smdnai

tags for interested readers will be open for as long as this fic is ongoing! let me know in the comments or message me, whatever fits your preference!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #bts au #bts au fanfic #woosung x reader #jungkook divorce au #divorce au

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marigoldenblooms · 2 months

Text

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 1

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, canon-level violence, use of medieval weapons, body horror description in transformation, magic use, slight dissociation/self harm, restraint, fluff (for five seconds), R is a simp, so is W, N is not here to play, etc.

A/N: I’ve been working on this next chapter ever since the previous. Chapter two is coming along quickly as well! I want to keep a bit of a backlog for my longer fics, so updates will be as frequent as I can manage. The name established in this chapter for R will be used sparingly, but I loved what Missmonsters2 did with Between the Lines when I read it months ago, and thought it’d be pertinent until nicknames/pet names are established (and for as long as I can avoid conversation where names are necessary).

R’s monster form brought to you by bearded vulture inspiration! Feel free to imagine your own version of avian horror to your heart’s content. Enjoy, y’all!

Word Count: 3.1k - Read Length: 11 minutes, 18 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ The healer’s home was nothing short of overwhelming.

Multi-colored knick-knacks were strewn on every surface, perched below gatherings of drying, braided flowers which hung from the rafters. Beneath your feet, woven rugs of alternating sizes dotted the cabin’s cool wooden floors, like islands between a chilled sea of timber. The front door lead further into a sitting room, offering glimpses into a small, quaint looking kitchen, adorned with a single well-worn table and chair. Within that same place, a large pot was held still on the counter by wisps of scarlet magic, another more opaque plume coaxing a wooden spoon to stir whatever was inside.

Paintings hung along every wall, although you could never get a full glance at one, as though they’d subtly shift and change muses whenever you’d look away. The sound of a shutting door would heighten your senses enough to break from the scenery, turning on your heels to face the home’s owner once again. She’d pry at you with a half-smile, and you’d solidify your gaze at the floor before her eyes could have the chance to meet yours.

“What brings you to my home?” She’d question evenly, her words a pleasing rasp- smooth molasses which could easily cloud your senses if you allowed her to. You’d see her form move to the side of you in your peripheral, yet you’d remain still, your stare continuing to bore a hole into her carpet.

Wordlessly, you’d tug at your shawled sleeve to show the back of your arm. Running along the skin’s expanse were thin ridges, pin feathers prickling beneath taut flesh. A light down speckled your skin in odd patches, consolidated mostly on your neck and shoulders for now. Your hair had begun to fleck and grow waxy and silkish, akin to dense ostrich feathers, tousled from your trek to her abode. You’d watch the ground as her shadow would shift around you, a curious tsk showcasing her intrigue.

You wouldn’t see her raised expression, eyebrows furrowed as she’d take your wrist without warning, raising it up so she could see the indentation better in the light. She’d drop your arm as soon as she’d grabbed it, falling limply to your side, and her smooth voice would threaten to carry you off again. “Fascinating..your affliction isn’t something I’ve seen recently.”

“Can you help?” You’d mumble, the few phrases coming to you sounding choked from lack of use, and you could hear the healer’s grunt at your lackluster response. You’d swallow thickly, trying to find the words to explain all that you were, but none arrived. She’d circle around you once more, and before you could flinch away, would capture your chin between her thumb and forefinger, wrenching it to make you look at her- green irises narrowing as you’d shut yours, unwilling to look her in the eye. You’d half expect her grip to be cold like the Matron’s, but her touch’s pleasant warmth was something you almost missed as she’d let go of you, the shuffle of her arms crossing heightened behind your closed eyelids.

“I can’t help a patient I can’t trust,” She’d muse with a teasing lilt, rolling her r’s in a way that made your chest flutter. Was this another symptom of your molt? It had been a long time since you’d been with another and the thought made your heart ache, albeit not more than your bones. “Why won’t you look at me?”

The scoff that came in response to her was almost too easy, opening your eyes after directing your head to the floor again, “Because I am no threat to you.” “And why would I assume that?” She’d retort immediately, and you’d glare into the ground. Why was talking so easy for her? Why couldn’t she understand that you weren’t like her? You’d raise your arm aloft again, the skin burning now as you’d twist the plumage under your flesh for her view. The rage that had been festering in you for days unlocked a torrent of your words, finally finding purchase in your mouth- frustration evident in how each phrase was ripped from your throat. Your larynx would be useless beyond a breathing tool soon, so you better use it now. Your nails clawed at your arms, doubling into yourself, “Because you are human and I am not, healer- is that not something you’re able to understand-?!”

“Relax for me-” she’d grit, and you’d feel your stomach plummet at her words. Something in them begged obedience, and for a second you felt as though you were back in your nightmare. You’d twitch, glance immediately circling the ceiling as something would restrain you- thin tendrils of crimson magic, keeping your arms from flaring out at your sides. As if seeing your frustration, your panic, the healer’s sorcery would calm, soothing both your body and your mind into an unnatural lull. “You’re…using-” you’d begin, yet words would evade you once again, no longer fueled by anger. There was only a different feeling- regret, and uncomfortable stone in your stomach that you shied away from, wanting to cower from its weight. You didn’t like yelling at this woman, even as she cradled you with her witchcraft.

You’d feel her heat again, warm hands placing tentative touches to your shoulders, slowly coaxing your glance to hers. “I’m sorry,” she’d breathe, shallow as you’d feel her palms shake against you, “I didn’t want you… to hurt yourself-” Her irises, blooming with clouds of red, would drain into green as you’d feel her magic loosen around your body like unraveling ropes. You wouldn’t shy away from her this time, panting as her gaze would share her soul with you. She, too, held that stone in her gut. Perhaps she didn’t fear you.

You’d part as her back would stiffen, adding a few feet between the two of you. “What is your name?” She’d ask, and you saw the way her head tilted since you looked at her face. Your words came easier now that you were less tense, muscles losing their rigidity, and yet you didn’t have an answer for her. You still pried into her windows, eyes flicking across the expanse of her garden from the view you could get from her living room, but it was a start. “I met your gaze, healer..I’ve done my part, you first.”

You’d see the way her nose crinkled at your response, flecks of mirth illuminating her expression, a grin finding its place there, “Talking now, are we? I’m Wanda.” “I’m..Margo.” In truth, you hadn’t had a name in years, the few decades you’d been alive focused more on survival than memory, especially when your molts made it difficult to discern who you really were- humanoid or avian. You’d forgotten your birth name ages ago, and it was a blessing that your words left your mouth as cleanly as they did. She’d tut at your response, taking it in as satisfactory, “Sure…Margo. Would you like to sit down?”

Wanda would guide you to her kitchen table without much fanfare, settling you on her single chair. With a focused look and a wave of her hand, however- a duplicate would reveal itself from a cloud of scarlet mist. “Your magic is red?” You’d inquire, tilting your head as you’d seen her do, “It’s a violent color. Why is that?”

“Do you really want to toe that line?” Her phrase were humorous, yet you swear a flash of indignation peppered her visage. You were not going to mess with that line, whatever she meant by that. “No, Wanda.” She smiled at that, her name seemingly pleasing in your mouth. You felt the flutter in your chest again, heart drumming a little faster against your shifting ribcage. If this was a sign of your incoming succession, then you had to finish this fast- to return before you transformed in Wanda’s house. And yet, why was the feeling almost pleasant?

“You said you haven’t seen my ‘affliction’ in a while,” You’d recount, finding her term for your molt unremarkable. You’d offer her a glimpse of your arm again, hesitating to touch the quills beneath. It was always tender before a lunation, and you didn’t want to aggravate the transformation further, “It doesn’t normally happen so soon. In hours before the new moon, maybe- not over days.”

“And what happens after those hours?” She’d coax your arm down with a gentle wave, seeing how your movements grew stiff as your skeleton hollowed out. You shrug, “I transform.” Wanda’s expression would sour, yet curiosity prickled underneath. Why did she look at you like that? “Can you help me? You said you're familiar with my kind.”

“..In truth, I’ve never met someone like you,” She’d murmur, expression bashful, and if the circumstances were different you would’ve taken it as a compliment. Instead, spiked embers of dread seared in your stomach, heart beginning to thrum in your ears. She didn’t know. Could she even help you? Her voice would raise a little louder, “However, if you tell me about yourself, perhaps I could figure it out.” With a twirl of her fingers, two cups of..something floated towards the table. Her gaze was an offer, “Thirsty?”

You’d nod, your throat suddenly dry. The drink was smooth and warm, with a bite of something fresh and crisp. It was much better than your rainwater. Gulping more of it down, you notice how she’d smile at your eagerness, careful not to spill as you’d raise the cup from its saucer. “Cider,” she’d mention, motioning to her mug, “Where are you from?” “My cavern is far from here. About half a day’s walk.” Wanda’s eyebrows would raise. “Cavern? You live in a cave?” Her interest was a delight, and you wanted to keep it for as long as you could. You didn’t answer her question, instead throwing one back at her, “Why do you live far from your town?”

“Bellmoor?” Amusement would blanket Wanda’s expression, snorting as she’d shake her head, twisting in her chair so she could lean forward towards you, “Because I like my peace and quiet. I assume the same for you, Птичка?”

“What does that mean?” You’d ask, and she’d tut again. “Now now, that can be your next question, but it’s my turn.” She’d scrunch her nose at your grumbling acquiesce, and you couldn’t help but smile with her. You liked this game. Wanda rested her hands on her table, and your eyes were caught on the shimmer of her rings as she’d speak, “Can you control your transformation?” That one was easy. “Fuckin’ wish I could...” Wanda’s brows would reach her hairline at your curse, but you wouldn’t give her time to comment as yours would stream from your maw, though it’d stop early, “No Aegypius can. What does..”

“‘Птичка’ mean?” She’d grin, rasping her knuckles on the wooden grain at each syllable, “Little bird, birdie, you have feathers underneath your skin, yes?” You’d send her a taunting look, one that she met in equal measure. You’d smile back at her, “Is that your question?”

Wanda would balk, gotten so caught up in teasing you that her words just tumbled out with no direction. You’d see her cheeks grow pink, clearing her throat with a stuttered breath, and you swear she felt like you did when you felt that flutter. “No, it isn’t-” She’d respond smoothly, but you caught how her eyes shimmered, and you took another sip of cider. You knew why when her words made your mind double-take, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

You almost spit out your drink, coughing on it as you’d sputter, blush alighting your face. You felt it warm and you tried to hide it away, your flustered reaction seemingly pleasing Wanda. She certainly didn’t know what that meant to you, “I..you want me to stay with you- I’m going to molt tonight, Wanda.”

“And if I am to help your transformation, then I must see it in person,” She’d respond, never losing her smile. It soothed you, that richness in her tone and that calm in her expression, and you’d feel a new pull in your heart. One you hated.

Your instincts wanted you to ruin her. Wanted her vulnerable as she was, to splinter her bones into shards you didn’t even have to chew.

To take advantage of her weakness, your hunger eating you alive unless you picked her clean, consumed-

You’d swallow, a shaky breath leaving you. Wanda had blinked, and your voice acted quicker than your mind would comprehend, “I don’t want it helped, Wanda. I want it gone.” You’d feel your skin itch at that, and a cold dread filled your gut, like the Matron’s chill held you once again. Your words were a whisper. “But I don’t think my body will let me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay. Do you have anything that helps you calm down?” She’d ask, leaning forward with a gentle lilt. Her hand would’ve come across the table, offering her palm to yours. It was calloused, warm skin juxtaposed with smooth metal, and you took it in yours gratefully. You were starting to really like her company.

------------------------------------------

The hours would’ve floated by you, a subtle bliss filling you as you and Wanda would’ve enjoyed the rest of your evening together. You could feel your body shift by the hour, and yet a part of you didn’t care if you were with her. You’d show her your chains, mentioning their unknown inscription and how they’d keep your form….distracted. You would be kept in the barn once the moonless night had begun, the sky within a period of tranquil dusk. She ghosted her hand across the rim of your shackles, and you were surprised they didn’t burn her like they did you. An Aegypius trait, you supposed.

Wanda had made you stew using that pot from earlier, while you hovered in the vicinity, chopping up carrot and onion into more manageable pieces. The meal was finished after it had boiled for a long time, and it was only when you sat down to enjoy it with her that a blink of movement would catch your eye. The bay windows curved in a beautiful shape that let the last vestiges of light in, and you’d register the sight of silver metal piercing into the glass before you heard it smash.

A figure leapt through its shattered remains, thick cloak blanketing their form to protect them from the glass. Their armor and longsword was polished beautifully, and they would be regal if it wasn’t for their war shout and barred teeth. You could see their face beneath their hood, just before the glint of their weapon as it’d slice down towards your chest.

You’d dodge, rushing backwards until your back hit the other end of the wall. As the longsword would finish its downward arc, Wanda’s magic would cradle its blade, her hands outstretched and bent as if trying to push it up. Her voice was strangled and thin, heard between the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears, “run, Margo- go!”

Turning to bolt, you’d hear the clatter of boots against wood as a rougher hand would grab you by the scruff of your neck. Writhing in their hold, you’d shove your elbow into the ribs of your attacker, before grabbing their hand from your nape to sink your teeth into it. “Fuck, you гриф-” The knight’s heavy breath was audible from behind your back. You’d bite harder, feeling their skin break beneath your jaw as you’d thrash, trying to cleave flesh off. They’d tear their hand from you, kicking your legs with a force that sent you barreling down.

Your head would hit the hardwood floor, and you could hear the ringing in your ears as you’d look up, vision swimming as everything looked double. Your hooded attacker brandished their longsword with two hands above you, although it looked like they had four. Before they could stab the blade downward, Wanda’s hand would lurch out to their neck- pressing the kitchen knife into their throat as her other palm would scratch towards the knight’s eyes, the pair barreling backwards which left you an outside view that made your pupils retract into pinpricks.

The sky was dark, illuminated with bright swaths of stars. Tears pricked at your eyes. The few treetops you saw couldn’t even reach its height, blanketing the world in an awaiting gloom. You knew the moon was out there, but you couldn’t see it. Your mind reeled, thoughts growing famished as you’d stare into its expanse. You licked your lips. The sky offered you reprieve, and who were you to deny its feast?

The wheezing pop of bone into stronger sockets would startle Wanda and her assailant into a tense standoff, your witch pinning the stranger to the floorboards while the knight tried in vain to grasp at their longsword that had been kicked many feet away. Your breath heaved with strength you hadn’t felt before, seizing as the voice that came from you was no more than a guttural hiss. Your skull would reshape, mouth widening into a curved beak, hooking into serrated edges, while your skull would become angular, bird like. Anything but human, you were no longer recognizable. Feathers would blanket the creature’s shifting musculature, tearing from roughened skin as they’d fan into shape. Its arms and legs grow as its fingers would lengthen, bat-like wings creaking before they’d be covered in plumage; ivory white on it’s neck and shoulders, cascading into darker blacks and blues elsewhere. The monster’s feathers wouldn’t remain unpigmented for long, as they’d begin to warm on its skin- sparks flying from where they touched, growing into a burnt umber. The beast would groan as its wings crashed to the floor- bipedalism was no longer an option, the force cracking the wooden boards. Horns would thunder from shaking its monstrous head, the beast’s eyes blinking into pale gold with a crimson ring surrounding them. A black line of feathers ran down the side of its face and to its gaping maw, tufted at its chin. Its feathers had heated into shades of orange, flecked with flame- while cyan speckled where its temperature had reached an apex.

Silence would still the room, the shaky inhale of breath marking the presence of living beings in it’s fray. The demon would blink again, a gnashing sound emanating from inside its cavernous beak. It’d then raise itself on its haunches, spread its twelve meter wingspan (shattering the walls in its wake), and echo a deafening, reverberating call into the night.

The hunt had truly begun. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

~~~

192 notes · View notes

seravphs · 1 year

Text

drabbles:

✧ modern intimacy | 200 fluff

Gojo watches you get ready for your anniversary date.

✧ all roads lead home | 600 fluff

Gojo “my girl is mad at me I hope I die” Satoru, companion piece to modern intimacy

✧ all the rumors are true | 450 fluff

He’s an idol. You’re a hairstylist.

short/long fic:

✧ dinner plans | 1k fluff

Gojo's a brat.

✧ spoil | 1k fluff

Gojo Satoru likes his girls clingy.

✧ sweetheart, psychopathic crush | 1.5k fluff and mild angst

“What I want from the river is what I always want: / to be held by a stronger thing that, in the end, chooses mercy.” - Advantages of Being Evergreen by Oliver Baez Bendorf

✧ starboy | 1.6k fluff

Your job description entails taking care of one (1) astronaut on his way to Mars. It doesn’t say anything about falling in love with him.

✧ arrive through obliteration | 3.5k smut

Gojo deserves a trophy for winning his fight against Sukuna. You’re happy to deliver.

✧ you get me closer to god | 3.7k fluff

Kneeling by your bed, rosary wrapped around your knuckles, lips pressed to the burnished rosewood, you pray. God, please send me another guardian angel. A blast of static from the TV behind you. The one you sent me- “Hey, how does the thing work?” Gojo says, accompanied by loud thumps. You cringe in silence. He’s strange.

✧ graveyard shift | 4.5k fluff | (not really a) mafia au

When you took the job, you knew working the night shift at your local convenience store would be boring. That’s fine; you’re here to make enough to pay rent, not to smile for strangers who don’t care anyways.The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all.

✧ the commutative property of relationships | 4.5k smut

Gojo and you have little to nothing in common besides a friend group and a shared crush on Nanami Kento. However, as befitting the sorcerer to end all sorcerers, of course Gojo has one up on you - he’s actually made a move on Nanami. If he offers to give you a taste through him, who are you to turn down such a golden opportunity?

✧ star power | 6.8k fluff

Gojo loves the untouchable. You’re an off limits rockstar who thinks he’s an idiot. The only thing he can do is take that as a challenge, right?

universes:

✧ cruel summer

✧ teen dad gojo

series:

✧ let your hand become a blade so I may take it | royal au | 1/7 chapters

Updated knight! gojo x princess! reader

✧ the hand which holds the knife | royal au | 2 chapters

OLD DRAFT of knight! gojo x princess! reader

✧ spring in hell and everything’s blooming | 2/5 chapters | estimated 12k

There is before-Getou and after-Getou. In both spaces, Gojo exists.

✧ beating hearts promised to bared teeth | 1/2 chapters | estimated 20k

When a kind stranger offers you his home because your gambling addict of a father can’t pay rent, you’re left in charge of a shrine - with a catch. Once you arrive at your new home, you learn a crucial fact that he conveniently left out. You’re the new god in charge, and his familiar, who now belongs to you, does not like you. What’s a new god to do, especially when she finds herself slowly falling for the fox spirit?

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bellaxgiornata · 3 months

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Neighbors [Prologue]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Between running Common Grounds, chasing after your escape artist husky, and helping your financially struggling brother out by watching your niece, your days are always busy. But shortly after a new neighbor moves into the other side of your duplex, you start receiving mysterious threats. Surprisingly, you eventually find safety and comfort in the reclusive neighbor whom your niece and dog have both come to befriend.

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: This is just a short prologue to this little fic and unfortunately there's only mentions of Frank, he doesn't make an appearance until the first chapter. Also yes, Reader has a family, but I try my best to keep physical descriptions nonexistent and allow for y'all reading to either view Reader as biologically related to her brother, or to view her as adopted at birth. Feedback is always appreciated and the chapter list for future updates can be found here!

Tag list: @danzer8705

“Alright, coffee bean,” you said, opening the back door of your car, “what’s first on the agenda for this afternoon?”

A bright smile lit up Lily’s face as you leaned into the backseat, beginning to unbuckle her from the carseat. Her feet swung back and forth in her pink shoes as she waited for you to undo the restraints, a thoughtful ‘hmm’ coming from her as you undid each buckle. Though you already knew what she was going to say, because it was the same answer every time.

“First we need a snack,” she answered.

“Oh we do, do we?” you asked with a grin.

“We always start with snack time, Nini,” she stated matter-of-factly in her small voice.

Your grin grew wider at the nickname she still called you after all these years. When she was younger, she'd struggled to properly say ‘auntie,’ instead the word coming out as ‘nini.’ So Nini you happily became.

Finished with undoing her buckles, Lily slid out of her seat, grabbing her backpack and stuffed husky–the plush that was almost an exact replica of your dog that she carried absolutely everywhere with her–from the seat beside her. While she began to climb her way out of the car, your attention was drawn away by the sound of your neighbor’s front door closing. Glancing over your shoulder and past your driveway over to the duplex beside yours, you spotted your landlord, Cora. Her back was to you as she continued to lock up the duplex next door to yours.

You’d been wondering why her car had been parked in the neighboring driveway when you’d first pulled up. She hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by for anything today to you, so you figured her visit had something to do with the neighboring unit. Curiously you wondered if she had finally gotten a tenant for that duplex, because you knew it had been empty for the past couple of months. Not many people wanted to move to a small town in Michigan. Though it wasn’t like you’d been complaining about the lack of noisy neighbors for the past couple of months. The peaceful silence of not sharing a wall with someone had been great, and so had been having the entire shared backyard to yourself.

Lily’s small hand grabbing onto yours broke you from your thoughts, your focus shifting back down to her now standing at your side. She was grinning up at you, her purple backpack on her back and her husky clutched tight to her chest with her other arm.

She’d just finished preschool for the day today, and as usual, you’d picked her up afterwards. She attended preschool three days a week for only half a day–paid for by you, because your brother was struggling to make ends meet as it was being a single dad in debt. He sometimes even worked a second job at a bar in town at night, and on those nights Lily stayed with you.

Your brother Jamie was truthfully a great father, but he had been struggling financially even before Lily came into the picture. It didn't help that Lily’s mother had bailed on the pair of them almost immediately after giving birth, leaving Jamie all alone to figure everything out.

All alone except for you, of course. Because there was no way in hell you'd let your brother and his poor little baby girl suffer. Since Jamie couldn’t afford traditional daycare, you had offered to watch your niece whenever he was working. And it had been that way for years. Nowadays that meant sometimes you’d take her down to Common Grounds, the coffee shop you owned downtown, and let her help you out or work on her own activities while you finished whatever you needed to. Other days you’d find ways to keep the pair of you entertained at your place or around town. It was an arrangement you didn’t truthfully mind because Lily was a fairly well behaved four year old and you genuinely loved spending time with her. You knew you'd miss her constant company when she finally started kindergarten in the fall.

“And what do you think we should have for a snack?” you asked her.

“Apple cookies!” she exclaimed instantly. “You make them better than daddy!”

“Well you're in luck,” you told her, closing the car door, “because I just bought fresh strawberries yesterday.”

Beside you, Lily happily jumped up and down, emitting a squeal of delight. The sight of her had you laughing as she began pulling at your hand, beginning to drag you up the length of the driveway. But the pair of you didn't get far before you heard your name being called out. Turning towards the voice, you spotted your landlord Cora. You sent her a smile and a wave in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Phillips!” Lily cheerfully called out, waving her stuffed husky enthusiastically at Cora.

“And good afternoon to you, Lily!” Cora said, stopping at the edge of the neighboring driveway and leaning down towards the girl. “How was preschool today?”

“Good!” Lily exclaimed. “Nini and I are going to make apple cookies for snack now!”

“Oh you are? Well those sound yummy,” Cora told her. Her eyes returned to you, a warm smile on her face as she straightened back up. “And how're you doing, dear?”

Laughing lightly, you shrugged your shoulders. “About as busy as always,” you replied. “But that's better than being bored, I suppose.” You gestured your head towards the duplex she just left. “Did you finally find someone for the unit?”

Cora nodded as she said, “I did, actually. So it seems you'll finally be getting a neighbor. Just one, though. But he seemed to be a very polite gentlemen from the few times we have spoken at least.”

Your heart sank at the news, but you did your best to refrain from letting the disappointment show on your face. So not only were you getting a neighbor again, but it was a single man. Probably a bachelor of some sort. You only hoped he wouldn't be bringing many dates back to his place. Not just because you didn't want to hear anything through that shared wall, but you didn't want Lily to overhear anything on the nights she stayed over, either.

“Oh?” you asked. “When uh, when is he moving in?”

“He moves in tomorrow actually,” Cora told you. “He seemed eager to get settled in as soon as possible and I couldn't quite complain. I've been needing to fill that place for a while now.”

Lily began to tug impatiently at your hand. Glancing down at her, you saw the slight frown on her face. She was tired of the ‘adult talk’ already, you could see it on her face.

“I suppose I'll be meeting him soon then,” you said, focusing back on Cora. “But I should probably get Lily inside and get going on those apple cookies of hers.”

Lily resumed enthusiastically hopping from one foot to the other at the mention of her favorite snack. “Yes please, Nini!”

“Alright dear,” Cora said, that warm smile still on her face. “You girls take care. And let me know if there's any problems with the new neighbor, okay? You know I worry about you two.”

Taking a step back in the direction of your front door, you nodded. “I'm sure everything will be just fine, Cora,” you told her. “But I'll be sure to let you know if anything comes up.”

You sent her a final wave before turning around and continuing up towards your own front door, Lily once again tugging at your hand. As the pair of you neared the front window of your duplex, you could hear the distinct happy barks of greeting from your husky. She was standing at the front window, her tail wagging enthusiastically as faint whines penetrated through the glass in between her impatient barks.

“Penny! Penny!” Lily cried out.

The little girl released your hand, bolting over towards the window. Penny's whining only increased in response to your niece as you finished making your way to the front door, searching for the correct key on your keyring. Placing your key into the lock, you twisted it just before the sound of Penny's feet frantically racing over towards the door met your ears. Seconds later Lily was back at your side, excitedly bursting into your place in front of you the moment the door was opened. Her arms were wrapped around Penny's neck in a hug by the time you stepped inside, giggling as your dog began to happily lick the side of her face.

“Lily, shoes off please!” you called out to her.

Reluctantly breaking away from Penny, Lily made her way back over to where you were taking off your shoes in the entryway. As she sat down to take hers off, you placed yours in the entry closet.

“So what should we do after snack time today?” you asked her, turning around and helping her remove her shoes. “We have a couple of hours before your dad comes to pick you up. Should we watch a movie? Color? Find a craft to do?”

You grabbed Lily’s shoes from her, turning back around to place them in the closet beside yours before closing the door. When you focused back on her, she was contentedly scratching Penny's ears and watching as the dog's tongue lolled out of her mouth in sheer bliss, Penny’s eyes partially closing.

“No, I don't want to do those today,” Lily told you, shaking her head. “I want to…bake!”

“Okay,” you said, making your way through the living room and towards your kitchen. “What do you want to bake? Brownies? Cookies?”

“Cookies!” she replied. “For your new neighbor!”

You paused at the entrance of your kitchen, your back to your niece as you heard her little footsteps and Penny's following after you. You hadn't expected that to be her answer.

“Alright,” you said slowly, dragging the word out. “So…you want to make cookies for the new neighbor moving in tomorrow?”

“Yep!” she answered. “It’s nice to bring people cookies, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied. “So should we make chocolate chip cookies after snack time, then?”

“Uh uh,” she immediately replied. “Heart cookies.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further onto your forehead. She wanted you to make heart shaped cookies for your new, single male neighbor?

“Coffee bean,” you began carefully, turning around to face her, “it's not February anymore. We don't–”

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, stomping one foot down in defiance as she stared up at you. “I want to make him heart cookies with pink frosting and sprinkles, Nini.”

You stood there for a moment dumbfounded, your gaze holding her unwavering one. When she didn't back down, your eyes shifted over to Penny who was standing beside her. The dog's head only tilted to the side as she sat down, somehow seemingly mimicking your niece's defiant posture. With a sigh you turned back around, heading over to your fridge and feeling outnumbered.

“Okay, okay,” you relented. “After snack time we can make my new neighbor heart shaped cookies with pink frosting and sprinkles.”

“Yay!” Lily cheered, running over to sit at the kitchen table, Penny darting off just behind her. “They're going to be so beautiful! He’s going to love them!”

And hopefully this new neighbor is truly as nice and polite as Cora said , you thought as you grabbed an apple from out of the fruit drawer of your fridge. Because I don't know how a grown single man is going to react to receiving heart shaped cookies with sprinkles as a welcome gift…but so help me he better not hurt her feelings.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher

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asumofwords · 10 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello sweeties, now that I have fed you, the next update may be a little spaced out, but I couldn't resist posting this shorter chapter for you all. I cannot wait hehe <3

Chapter 88: Three Dragons

It was no easy thing to juggle expectations and reality. Especially in a time of war.

It was as never ending cycle of do's and don’ts. Can’s and can’t’s. The questioning yourself constantly for every little move that you have made, every step you may have taken.

A piece forward on the carefully crafted board you had created in your mind. Questioning yourself for the things you hadn’t done, or what you would have done differently. The only consolation being that time would tell, and the Gods were surely, hopefully, on your side.

You had of course expected to most likely fall pregnant to Aemond, your mother asking you if you knew what was really expected of you, the terrible truth of it all, the expectations of cruelty and misuse, and you knowing. Those you had expected, and in some cases welcomed his temper and flickering devotion, for it was something you knew and expected, and it was the unknowing that was most torturous of all.

However, you had not expected how much it would have surprised you.

You had especially not expected to notice the changes so suddenly.

Days pass, and you became aware of the changes in your body more than ever, now that your attention was drawn to it. Your breasts were becoming swollen and sore, nipples growing more, and more sensitive. Gowns became slightly tight around your chest and waist, and the grazes of your stiffened peaks on the silks of your dresses causing you to gasp.

There was of course, another change that you had begun to notice.

Your stomach, despite still being early days, or what you assumed to be early days, had a small swell to it. Almost completely unnoticeable, unless to you.

It was when you were dressed or bathed did you notice it the most, or when you were wearing a gown Aemond had made from when you had first arrived to Kings Landing, thin and broken. Those gowns strained at your front, and pulled tightly against it, wrinkles in the fabric new to the usual pristine appearance that they usually held.

You and Aemond still danced around each other, unsure of how to move forward, uncertain on whether or not to look back. New to the situation you both found yourselves in.

Parenthood.

Or yours at least.

The Prince, despite his lingering irritation at your coldness, still doted on you, and each morning there were small and fresh lemon tarts brought to your chambers.

The smell was overwhelming, and you found your mouth watering as soon as they arrived. Your uncle had tried to speak to you, soft whispers, gentle touches of the arm or hand, and you had brushed him away, a false sadness to your eyes as you avoided him.

The rose by your bedside had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared, the remnants of a stem spotted in the hearth the next morning.

The Prince had tried, hopelessly, to initiate intimacy, curling around you in bed to place unsure kisses against the barest hint of skin on your shoulder. But you had wriggled away from him, curling up in a ball in cold rejection.

And Aemond had taken it.

That morning as you sat in the chambers, eating your second lemon tart with little haste, you thought of what was to come, and unconsciously tucked a hand around your middle. You thought of what it would look like. What it would be like.

Would it have his eyes? Or yours?

His temper? Or yours? Or an unfortunate and most disastrous mix of the two?

What would you even name it? Obviously a name of tradition, but what? You could not stomach the thought of naming it Aegon. Perhaps Viserys? Visenya? Rhaegar?

And then the excitement fizzled out, and was replaced with burning anxiety.

What would your mother say?

What would your father say?

You had not told them in that letter. And soon they would know.

Would they hate you now?

Would they try to kill the baby?

Or end the pregnancy?

You doubted it, knowing that they would always give you a choice, but you also knew that they would hate to know it was Aemond who sired it.

You tried to finish your breakfast of lemon tarts, reaching forward to nibble on some sliced tomato, yet a breeze moved through the window, curling the curtains behind them, and the pungent smell of pork wafted beneath your nose. Your stomach roiled, mouth gone dry.

The Maester had warned you that some women get sick when with child, and you knew that others had cravings. Perhaps you would now have more of an aversion to the pink-grey meat than ever, which was all well and good, considering that you were never too fond of it in the first place, and Aemond had an aversion to it.

When you had finished your breakfast, stomach struggling to settle after the pork had offended it, you had moved down to the Gardens, quietly excusing yourself, knowing that Aemond would be attending to his duties with the King all day.

You spent most of the day seated in the breeze, enjoying the way it settled your stomach and brought the fresh smell of lavender under your nose.

The sun rose to its peak, and soon enough, began to sink lower into the sky, the day moving by quickly.

As you sat and watched the waves below, thinking of your family, hoping that your letter had not frightened them, praying that they had been moved to action that would be disasterous, a small servant boy no older than ten came towards you.

You shifted from the pillow you were seated atop as he made his way confidently to you, a large silver tray in his hands with a teapot and bowl of fruit atop. You frowned, but stood anyway moving to the table that he placed it atop, skilfully pouring the tea without a drop spilt.

You looked at him oddly, not having asked for it, but as you gazed down at the bowl of fruit, you noticed it was only star fruit.

Aemond must have sent the boy to bring you some afternoon tea.

When he had finished serving the brew, he watched as you sat in the seat, giving you a small smile and bowing, before you watched him walk away, little brown head disappearing amongst the sea of plants and trees.

You picked up the small silver fork and stuck it into the bowl of cut up star fruit, lifting it to your lips to chew. The burst of flavour hit your tongue and you hummed in appreciation at it.

Perhaps you would forgive Aemond today, cease his begging and smothering gifts.

As you pressed the fork into the bowl again and lifted yet another neat square into your mouth, you looked at the tea. It was darker than what you had expected, and as you brought it up towards your eyes, you noted that it was almost completely black.

Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply.

Liquorice root and elderflower.

Your mothers favourite.

They had gotten your letter.

A wide smile pulled at your lips, and this time you did not fight it. You let yourself grin alone in the Gardens, surrounded by nobody but the various plants and bugs, the warmth of the sun behind you, and the knowing that they had received the raven.

You sipped the tea joyfully, enjoying the flavour as you thought of your mother Rhaenyra. She had sent you a sign. She had sent you a message. You wished to go home so terribly so that you could hug her. So that you could bury your head into the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent deeply. You wished to feel her lips pressed against your cheek thrice, and hear her sweet voice once more.

Tears welled in your eyes and you blinked them away.

Soon, you promised yourself.

It would be soon.

You sipped some more of the tea again, putting it down onto the table and reached back for the fork. The star fruit was most likely your father. And it warmed your chest with hope to know that they both sent little signs of themselves to you.

You spiked your fork down into the bowl, a little more forcefully than you should have.

The metal prongs hit something hard, and the object shifted beneath.

You blinked.

Using your fork, you looked into the bowl of yellow fruit, moving a cut up chunk to the side. Your eyes immediately being drawn to a subtle sparkle amongst the fruit.

Something that was not fruit.

There, hidden amongst the soft yellow flesh, was a silver chain.

Your fingers found the edge of the bowl and pulled it towards you, eyes darting across the yard to ensure no-one was watching. You dipped your fingers into the bowl of fruit, feeling the cool nectar spread amongst the skin, and pulled the chain.

Tucking it close to your lap, just above the napkin, you stared at it in a beat of confusion.

There, in your palm, was a necklace.

A gift?

It was thick silver chain that wound around itself in an intricate braid. Three green emeralds hanging delicately from its centre, coated in the nectar of the fruit it had lay hidden beneath.

And then it dawned on you.

‘A gift from a Targaryen Prince’ Larys’ voice rung in your head.

Alys Rivers was no more.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

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astrobei · 3 months

Note

hi i love your fics and I was wondering if you had any byler fic recs

thanks

hello there! in all honesty, i have not had the time to read a lot of byler fic as of late, but it’s been a while since i posted some recs so i’ll drop a few that i’ve enjoyed recently! as always, i do endorse every fic in my bookmarks to the highest possible degree, so always feel free to look through those for new reading as well <3

say it with your hands by pseudologia (@hellfiremike) — will is a new employee at the movie theater mike works at, and mike starts thirsting over will’s hands to a degree that’s downright detrimental to his employment status

GOD. this fic. i gushed in their dms immediately after finishing it because this might be my favorite modern will characterization of all time, and this is coming from someone who has a million and one takes on modern era will byers. this fic just checked all of my boxes — from the summertime romance to mike’s painfully in-character teenage angsting to will being a frequenter of star wars reddit threads and an enjoyer of sufjan stevens. and the TENSION. oh god the tension. i’ve read all their fics probably three times over each, and i also highly recommend like i am home again, a college au set during a halloween party which made me stare at my phone refreshing ao3 hourly until it updated, and can this be a real thing (can it?) wherein mike and will reunite in a gay bar. enough said

landslide by chamb3rs — the party’s senior year of high school

i don’t often reach for chaptered fics since i usually have such limited reading time, but i’m sooo so so happy i stumbled across this one. there have just been very few fics that have touched me like this one did. i blew through this in one sitting a few weekends ago and subsequently experienced the full range of human emotions (and then some) all in the span of a few hours. everything about this was perfect — the will pov, the weird liminality of transitional periods, the party and byhop family dynamics, down to my favorite portrayal of theeeee jennifer hayes in any fic ever. on top of all of that, this fic perfectly captures the heartbreaking euphoria of being in love with your best friend, and all the ups and downs that come with it. i crawled out of the ao3 tab covered in blood and my chest was hurting and i was shaking and i had damn near chewed my own arm off — and then i sent the link to my friend 10 minutes later and watched her experience the same exact thing like a train wreck in slow-mo HAHAHA

what a time to be alive by passerine_in_jade (@newlesbianprideflag) — will disappears and haunts mike from the upside down

i’m forever a total sucker for a good haunting metaphor, so it’s absolutely not a surprise that this fic is appearing on this list. the premise for this was so so so cool and interesting, and it’s another chaptered fic i’m glad i had a little extra time to read. the way the author had me rooting for mike and will the whole time even though half of the pairing was offscreen for a large majority of the fic is a highly commendable feat. mike’s unyielding loyalty to will and will’s constant faith in him felt so true to their canon selves, and there were so many moments that were so quiet and intimate and tender that i really felt like i was intruding on something. good good stuff

that’s what you get for falling in love by harriet_vane — will gets his first boyfriend in college, and mike, ever the ally, has very normal feelings about it

i want to preface this by saying that this fic is rated m, mostly just for mentions/allusions to sex, and one largely non-explicit portion of a scene in the last chapter. if that’s not your cup of tea, it’s easy to tell when it’s coming up and to skip past it without detracting from the plot, but i think it would be a greater detriment to not rec this fic at all, because it has quickly made the list of my favorite byler fics of all time. something about this take on jealous mike especially resonated with me — his inner monologue is simultaneously hilarious and depressing, and his obliviousness regarding his feelings for will feels so true to life without being overdone or cartoonish. you can tell just how much they really care for each other, and the conflict in this actually made me start crying because it felt so visceral and so fundamentally them. you can tell this author really understands their characters, and the love put into this fic is soooo palpable. it’s the kind of fic where you want to bonk their heads together to knock some sense into them, but you are helpless to do anything but hold on as you’re swung along for the ride.

finally, i try not to just rec fics written by my friends, but my recent reading list would be incomplete without these two wonderful additions:

the way you love me by strangeswift (@strangeswift) — byler exes (absolutely heartwrenching edition)

i’ve been hearing abby talk about her ideas for this fic for the better part of a year as she worked on it, and she actually edited and posted the first two chapters while i was visiting her! and by god is this world a better place with her byler exes concept in it, because if you want angst, you’ll never have to look further than her ao3 page. something about the way she writes will in this fic just makes my heart shrivel up and die in my chest — his quiet resignation, the bitterness (always love a good bitter will byers moment) and the Longing that never quite went away. mike’s characterization is also top notch, and you can really feel the chemistry between them during every interaction. at the time of me posting this list, chapter 4 is not yet up, but trust me when i tell you guys it’s going to soooooo be worth it. :-)

the end is here by bookinit (@bookinit02) — a speculative byler-centric season 5

if you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that haven’s canon rewrite series is hands-down my favorite series across any pairing and fandom. her creativity with her season 5 concepts never fails to astound me — from the scripts she’s been working on as an alternative to the episodes she rewrote for s1-4, to her ideas for possible plot lines, and just incredible writing all around. i’ve had the privilege of reading through her scripts before she posts them to her blog (definitely go check them out) but special privilege bias aside, it takes soooo much skill to create such a visually powerful story in a medium that allows for such little narration, and the corresponding chapters just totally pushes it over the edge. pre-s5 required reading for every byler, and 100000% my new canon if the show doesn’t pan out

this definitely is not an exhaustive list because i have a million and one fics on my to-read, and one day i will get around to reading them all, but i hope there is something on this list that strikes your fancy!!

#mutuals specifically there are so many fics i need to catch up on im sorry #once i’m done w school im coming for you all truly #anyways i hope there are some here you guys like! sorry it’s not the longest list and sorry i babbled #actually no i’m not #i have a lot of feelings abt fics i like.#these r all fics that likeeeeee. make me want to Write #which is the highest compliment i can personally bestow #byler #byler fic rec #suni reads

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 2 months

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The Pleasures of The Unknown | Kate Middleton x The Unknown (Glasgow Wonka Experience 2024)

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

When Kate Middleton mistakenly ends up at a magical chocolate factory in Glasgow, she finds herself drawn to a mysterious cloaked figure with a penchant for dark chocolate.

pairing: Kate Middleton x The Unknown (Glasgow Wonka 2024)

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.2k

tags: crack, crack treated seriously, crack fic, smut, mild smut, finger sucking, chocolate, sex and chocolate, light BDSM, choking, thigh riding, rpf, bald harry styles, balddry, infidelity, glasgow, willy wonka experience - freeform, glasgow willy wonka - freeform, Balmoral, british royal family, unhinged innuendo

chapter warnings: smut, infidelity

Kate Middleton stared at her bangs in the Buckingham Palace bathroom mirror.

"I can't go out like this," she complained to William. "The Sun will rip me a new one!"

"Kate, my dear," he kissed her on the cheek, turning to lean against the counter. She continued tugging at her botched fringe until he took her hand. "It's just hair. It'll grow back."

"That's rich, coming from you."

William looked down at his royal bunny slippers with a frown. Even they had more hair than he did. Perhaps he should have them fashioned into a wig. He'd have to ask his frenemy, Harry Styles, for wigmaker recommendations.

"I don't know what to do." Kate looked up at her husband with tears in her eyes. He wiped them away with his royal hanky.

"I do," he smiled. Sliding his hand into his back pocket, he produced the royal AmEx.

"Take a holiday, Kate. Go to Balmoral or Hollyrood for a few weeks. Grow them out. Maybe even get that BBL you've been talking about getting. Scotland is a great place to recover from surgery. What with all the free healthcare and all, innit?" he said Britishly.

"You're so right, William. I'll leave first thing tomorrow."

---

Kate double-checked the address her husband had given her as she stepped out of her royal Uber Black.

"This can't be the right place. Balmoral was never this colorful!"

The cabbie rolled down his window. "Don't worry, ma'am, this is Willy's place! Be quick and get inside, it's looking like rain."

With a soft 'innit', the driver pulled away, and Kate was left on Willy's doorstep.

She assumed 'Willy' was short for her husband 'William', but as she entered the foyer, she began to have her doubts. The place appeared to be some sort of magical chocolate factory.

Although sparsely decorated, the place maintained some air of whimsy. Well, less of an air, more of a spritz, but clamato, clamato.

"Soo la voo," Kate shrugged, walking beneath the sparkly, styrofoam rainbow and towards whatever fate awaited her here.

"Ahh, more guests! Welcome!" A depressed-looking woman in a green wig approached her.

"Here, compliments of Willy," she said, sliding a plastic cup containing a splash of what appeared to be sparkling lemonade into Kate's left hand. Into her right went a single jelly bean.

"What is this?" Kate asked.

"Our welcome gift to you! And only $40, such a deal."

Kate supposed $40 was a fair price for such splendor. After all, if bananas were $10, this was surely worth four times that. She popped the jelly bean and washed it down with the lemonade.

"Carry on down the hallway. Your future awaits."

Kate left her luggage and her empty cup with the so-called Oompa Loompa and proceeded down the bare linoleum hallway. That uncanny-valley candy landscape tapestry really ties the place together, she mused.

A voice greeted her at the end of the hall.

"What. Is. That?" A blonde man in a red top hat and coattails pointed towards an unassuming mirror.

Why, that's me! Kate Middleton! Kate Middleton thought to herself.

Kate nearly leaped out of her skin when the creature emerged from behind the looking glass.

"It's...THE UNKNOWN!!"

That's when Kate fainted.

When she awoke, her head was spinning. "Where am I?" She asked to the blackness that surrounded her.

A deep voice answered her. "You're in the walls. This is my home. My own dark chocolate factory."

"Your what?" Kate asked.

As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was in a small bedroom combined with a confectionary workspace, almost a studio apartment of sorts.

"My dark chocolate factory. You see, Willy Wonka seeks only to pump this world full of river-churned, high-fructose, milky delicious bullshit. What I aim to create is something far more sophisticated. Far more complex. And far, far darker."

"Oh? Might I try some?"

"Why of course," the silver-masked, black-hooded creature pulled back its sleeve to reveal long, nimble fingers.

He crossed to his chocolate worktable and dipped his index and middle fingers into a whirring chocolate fountain. The creature stalked towards her, extending the sample.

Kate leaned towards him, but froze. "Before I suck on your fingers, I should probably know your name."

The creature angled his head, as if considering her. "I have no name. I am only...The Unknown."

Kate's heart raced in her chest. That chocolate, those fingers, it all looked simply divine. And if William could be unfaithful, why couldn't she do the same? She deserved it, just this once. As a treat.

She opened her mouth, and The Unknown slid his fingers past her lips. She sucked deeply, the flavor sliding across her tongue and down her throat, the complex flavor and intensity of the delivery method sending shivers down her spine.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"A bit," Kate admitted.

"Well then," she could hear the smirk in his voice even if she couldn't see it on his face. "Perhaps I'll have to warm you up myself."

Kate bit her lip. "Would you...put your willy? In my chocolate factory?"

His fingers closed around her throat. She drew a sharp breath.

She could feel his breath as he whispered in her ear, "Forget willies. Forget chocolate factories. Allow yourself to submit, to embrace the pleasures of The Unknown."

Kate let out a shuddering breath as she gazed up at that shiny mask. She didn't know what lurked behind it. She didn't care.

She kissed him then, the plastic of his mask hard against her soft lips. And then she was sprawled on the bed, his knee between her legs, and she was grinding against him.

"Oh, The Unknown!" She moaned.

"Please, there's no need for formality. Call me The."

So Kate did. She sounded like the gilded first word of a sponge's term paper as she wailed his name over and over again, into the dark stillness of this secret room behind the walls.

"I'm close," Kate moaned.

"Good girl."

He leaned down to kiss at her neck. The rough edges of the cheap mask scratched at her sensitive skin, but she didn't care. She was lost in the pleasures of The Unknown.

It was the hair that brought her to the edge, something her husband could never give her. The chemical scent of his cheap, black wig filled her nostrils as she rode his thigh, dangling there on the precipice.

"Ohh!" Kate screamed as she came, her thighs shaking with pleasure as she clenched around nothing.

A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled at her throat, and she swooned. After all these years of marriage, William had never rocked her world like this masked stranger just had. As they lay there together, she slipped into the chocolatey darkness of slumber, utterly content.

---

When Kate returned home, butt bigger and bangs longer, William had wanted to hear about her experience in Scotland.

"What was your favorite part?" He asked.

"I learned a lot about myself on this trip," she told him. "But the most valuable lesson was in learning to embrace the pleasures of the unknown."

"See, a little uncertainty is good sometimes!" He teased, tugging on her much-improved bangs before giving her a soft kiss.

"Mm," he smacked his lips. "Tastes like chocolate."

#ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #crack fic #glasgow #glasgow willy wonka experience #willy wonka #the unknown #glasgow willy wonka #ai wonka #balddry #kate middleton #kate middleton conspiracy #kate middleton missing #kate middleton bangs #kate middleton bbl #kate middleton x the unknown

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

Text

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

#succession #succession writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!

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retellingthehobbit · 11 months

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Tolkien Webcomic Recommendations!

I know people here follow me for my webcomic adaptation of the Hobbit. So I thought I’d share recommendations for my favorite similar Tolkien comic projects, in case people are looking for other Tolkien webcomics to read! :D

My recs will be mainly Tolkien comics that adapt portions of the original books, just with their own unique spin on them.

1. Sam and Frodo Comics, by Molly Knox Ostertag

Ostertag is probably the most well known artist on this list! She is a professional graphic novel artist who does gorgeous adaptations of scenes from Lord of the Rings, read through a queer lens, in order to tell the story of Frodo and Sam’s love for each other. This is mixed in with comics based on her own Tolkien-inspired writing. I’m focusing on comics in this rec list, but I’ll add that Ostertag has also written a lot of engaging prose fanfic with illustrations.

“Sam and Frodo Comics”

“In All the Ways There Were” (illustrated prose fanfic adaptation)

2.Lord of the Rings Book Canon Comics, by @yambits

Yambits does beautiful adaptations of scenes from the original lord of the rings books that do not appear in the New Line Cinema films, hewing very close to the original prose, and focusing on the love between Frodo and Sam. I especially love the way they depict the magical temptation of the Ring.

“Ithilien,” an adaptation of Frodo & Sam’s encounter with Faramir

“In the Lair,” an adaptation of Sam & Frodo journeying together into Shelob’s lair

“The Tower,” an adaptation of Sam journeying to the tower of Cirith Ungol to rescue Frodo

“Escape from the Tower,” an adaptation of Sam and Frodo leaving Cirith Ungol to journey into Mordor

The Ringbearers, a comic about the One Ring reflecting on the resilience of hobbits

3. Sansukh the Webcomic, by @fishfingersandscarves and @determamfidd

Sansukh is a well-loved Bagginshield fanfiction that is now getting a webcomic adaptation co-created by the original author. The premise is that after his death, Thorin Oakenshield is not able to speak to his surviving loved ones, but can influence them in subtle ways; he uses this power to help inspire Gimli to join the Fellowship of the Ring and protect Bilbo’s nephew. From there the fic becomes an “adaptation” of Lord of the Rings, retelling the trilogy through its new lens until the very end.

This is a bit of an outlier on this list because it’s an adaptation of a fanfic that’s an adaptation of the books, rather than an adaptation of the book. However, if you’re into the Hobbit fandom/Bagginshield, I recommend checking it out! It’s also one of the few comics on this list that is currently updating. :)

@sansukhcomic (tumblr blog)

Chapter one

Original fanfic the comic is based on

4. The Ainulindalae from the Silmarillion, by Evan Palmer Comics

People who know me, know that I’m *usually* not a big Silmarillion person. However!

Comic artist Evan Palmer did a gorgeous adaptation of the Ainulindale. This section of the Silmarillion describes the elven myth of creation, the ancient years where the world was created through a divine magical song. Palmer’s Fantasia-inspired expressive watercolor art really helps bring this section of the story to life!

Full comic

5.The 1989 Hobbit Comic adaptation, by Chuck Dixon and David T Wenzel

This is another outlier because it’s a physical comic book, rather than a webcomic- and unlike all the other recs this is an “official” adaptation produced by an actual publishing company rather than a zero-budget work made by an indie creator working alone/with a partner. I’m unsure if it can be found online.

It’s an adaptation of the Hobbit that hews extremely close to the original book, making practically no changes at all. It has very gorgeous watercolor illustrations! ( It’s been a big inspiration for me on my own little comic adaptation of the hobbit shsjd.) This is also the only comic on the list I’ll offer critique of, because it’s the only one made by an actual company with a budget— so I’ll say that because of page limits imposed on the comic many of the pages can feel overcrowded with prose, and emotional beats/comedy beats sometimes aren’t given the time to properly land. At times it feels less like a comic adaptation and more like reading the original prose of the Hobbit accompanied by some very beautiful illustrations. But if that’s what you’re into it’s great!

It’s a fun well-illustrated read that I recommend. I’m not sure where people can find copies; I stumbled across it in my library, so they’re definitely still around.

If anyone has additional tolkien comic recommendations,especially ones that can be found easily online, feel free to add them to this list! : D

#the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr #the Silmarillion #Tolkien #sansukh #the hobbit comic #retelling the hobbit #webcomics #middle earth #webcomic recs #not chapters #misc #let me know if I’ve written anything incorrectly in this post and all correct it!#(if the comic authors see this)

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sugar-plum-writer · 3 months

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A Heian Era Affair

Paring: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader Text: Gojo ends up in the Heian Era through unknown reason (will be reveled later on) and meets reader and hence journey begins both of adventure and romance~ [If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

CHAPTER - 1

The bamboo trees rustled as the cool wind blew, almost hauntingly as if carrying a message from another side of the world. Wiping your sweat with a ragged cloth, you stumbled and walked while carrying a bucket of water to your old wooden house.

It was hard to make a living, the minister of your area was evil, exploiting the people to death, and raising taxes beyond what people could pay. It was a nightmare- no worse at least you could wake up from nightmares but what about reality? can you wake up from it?

Sometimes you wanted to barge in and rip his head off. Too bad you could not, the guards were too strong, and with your strength you doubt you could ever survive.

Sighing, you returned to the river to fill your bucket again.

You had just bent over when a strong gust of wind started blowing out from nowhere, the trees shrieked as the water rippled- throwing you back 10 feet away with a slam- making you hit a tree. The sharp pain made your back go numb. As you tried to get up staggering- the wind kicked up a notch increasing it's speed and power like a cyclone. Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at what was happening- a big black hole appeared in the middle of the river; with water distorting around it and floating up defying gravity.

"What on-"

Before your brain could comprehend what just happened, a white-haired man flew out of the hole towards you, slamming into you-

Bang

Opening your eyes, you tried to get up, but- found the man on top of you, your legs intertwined together, he groaned as he tried to stand

"Ugh"

His voice was deep causing you to freeze a moment, but you came back to your senses and pushed him off

"Who are you!? You demon!" you screamed as you looked at him

"Me? Ah I am Gojo Satoru and no I am no demon, it's the first someone has called me a demon! sure I might be tall but it does not mean I am a demon haha~" he smiled as he looked at you helping you stand up

"What-!? but you j-"

"Do you know where this is? I am a bit in a hurry"

"This is Mizushima village…."

He paused

"What?…. since when did we have a Mizushima village in Japan? Isn't Mizushima an Island!? which prefecture even is this?"

"Prefecture? Our village is part of the Minamoto Clan on the West side"

He paused longer this time

"Minamoto Clan?…"

"Yeah"

"eh?" he froze as he cocked his head to the side

"For real?"

"Yeah"

"I….what-what era is this?" his voice trembled a bit

"This is the Heian Era…the year is 1185…" You looked at him as he stood grounded on the spot contemplating the meaning of his life

Now that you observed him, he was wearing weird clothing the fabric was also very different from what you had ever seen, it was so smooth and very different from cotton- almost otherworldly

"Is he a noble? from Heian-kyo?", you thought to yourself and backed away a bit

"I am…1000 years in the past oh shit"

"Shit? What does it mean? which part are you from? your Japanese is very weird" You looked at him even more confused, even his accent was weird and some words he used were different

"Ah…." he looked at you struggling to explain

"You see…I am from the future more than 1000 years from the future, I know it sounds absurd but..it is the truth" he looked at you seriously meaning every word he said

"Huh? What-what bullshit are you saying? Are you a psycho? possessed?" you looked at him bewildered

"What is bullshit?" he looked at you confused

"I-I am leaving; good day to you, to ask what bullshit means I- you should find a priest" Picking up your bucket you hurried away wondering why you always met weirdos

"Wait-!" he yelled but you turned deaf to his words and ran as fast as your feet allowed you to.

You ran as fast as you could but he appeared in front of you almost like magic

"Please listen to me! I am not lying!!" he grabbed you by the shoulders frantically

"I really am from the future!"

"You freak let go of me!! AHHHHH!" you punched him doing little to no damage and screaming

This continued for some time, you running and him teleporting wherever you were it went on for a few hours and soon both of you sat panting on the ground

"Man…you sure got some stamina.." he wiped the sweat off his forehead simultaneously removing the blindfold

You froze- his eyes- were breathtaking; looking into them your heart exploded like fireworks, so serene, it felt like you were looking at the sky itself. You had never seen such eyes ever

How can someone be this good-looking?

"What? too captive by my looks~ Ah I guess even in the Heian Era I am attractive~" he leaned in with a smirk causing you to look away blushing crimson

"Who would!? you demon! Get away!"

He pouted a bit disappointed

"H…How do I believe you are from the future? And your powers? What are you?"

"I am a sorcerer from the Gojo Clan and…as for how I am from the future…" he scratched his head

"Got it!"

He smirked and took out a weird looking box and opened it

"Here try some, I bet you have never eaten something like this! It is a cheesecake that too from a very famous shop"

With swift movement from his hands, he put the cake in your hands, its scent was sweet, it was jiggly- even a bit liquid-y making you wonder if it was poison

"You...you sure humans can eat this?" your hands trembled as you held the plate

"Yes, it is! here~" he took the fork in his hands and ate a small bite of the cake- grinning

"Ah it really is good~"

Seeing him eat it and look so elated you also wanted a bite- how bad could it be? with a gulp and sharp breath you took a bite- a bite so good it made your eyes light up-

The flavor was exploding in your mouth, it had a rich and creamy flavor with a slightly tangy and sweet taste. The texture was smooth and dense melting in your mouth it felt like heaven.

"It must be so expensive....even in death I doubt I could eat something like this.."

He paused for a moment but then a smile crept up his lips

"Eh it was nothing just enjoy~" he winked

"You should see your reaction~ now that's a nice expression! It makes me wonder what other reactions you can make if I gave you other things~" smirking he leaned in his breath inches away from yours

"So...Do you believe me now?"

"....Yeah" nodding you took another bite

"Yay! Thank you~ please look after me from now on~"

[Link to my master list~ enjoy!]

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writeforfandoms · 4 months

Text

Warrior Song 15

Find the series masterlist

Well, we made it to the end of this fic. This is not the last I'll write of Master Chief, but I may take a break for a bit. I think I managed to wrap up everything with this last chapter, but if you have any lingering questions, I'd love to hear them!

Now, let's get this lot squared away, shall we?

Warnings: Swearing, mention of injuries, little bit of politics, everything will be okay.

Word count: 2.7k

By the time you caught up to John, there were a group of Sangheili walking towards him. He didn't have a weapon in hand, so you figured it was safe enough.

“Master Chief,” the one in front greeted, silvery armor different from what you were used to seeing. “It has been a long time.”

“Arbiter.” Chief inclined his head, ever so slightly.

“You are a difficult man to find.”

Chief just shrugged. You held back your laughter.

“How did you find us?” Fernando joined you on your other side, subtly bracing you to help you get weight off your injured leg.

“There was unusual slipspace activity,” Arbiter said calmly. “Whoever was controlling the computer was sloppy - pieces fell through, and from them we were able to determine the coordinates of this weapon.”

You blinked. You’d gotten probably half of that, but you were also exhausted, so. Whatever.

“We have injured,” Chief cut in, fortunately not looking down at you. “Limited supplies.”

“I have enough to share,” Arbiter agreed easily. “I will summon aid as well from the nearest human ships. In the meantime, you must tell me what happened here.”

Chief nodded once, taking a step forward. Kelly (who had appeared from nowhere and nearly gave you a heart attack) ushered you and Fernando away, more or less gently.

“Kelly, what–?” You started to ask, frowning.

“You are supposed to be resting,” she reminded you. “I could always carry you.”

You huffed but didn’t object further. Okay. Fine. So she was right. But you wanted to know what was going on!

Somehow you ended up back in bed, pouting, a tray of food on your lap and Kelly making sure you and Fernando both ate. (Fernando opted to sit on the floor.)

After the third time you huffed at your food, Kelly huffed back at you.

“Keep that up and I won’t ask Fred for updates.”

You pouted harder but ate in silence.

Vaguely, you could hear the camp buzzing around you, excited voices and the stomp of feet and movement all combining into one continuous drone. You’d bet news of the Sangheili ships had spread fast. Or maybe they’d heard about the human ships coming to aid too? How long would that take? How long had you been asleep, even? Long enough for Arbiter to arrive, clearly, but how long had that taken?

“Stop thinking,” Kelly advised, poking your cheek.

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. And then paused.

Welp. You were dead.

Kelly huffed a tiny laugh. “So the explosion did knock the sense out of you,” she teased.

You had no defense for that, so you just hunkered down in your bed, ears burning. At least you weren’t as sore today, though probably still some level of dehydrated. Your thigh was definitely the worst of your injuries still.

“Why did you blow up Atriox?”

The sudden question from Fernando startled you, and you blinked rapidly as you refocused on him. “It seemed like a good idea at the time? And, I mean, it’s not like he was friendly.”

Fernando shook his head. “No, I know that, but why you?”

Oh. That was the issue. You swallowed, looking down at the blanket pulled up over your lap. “It’s not like I sat there and debated the pros and cons,” you started slowly, picking at a loose thread. “It just… happened. I was there. I had a grenade. Nobody else was close enough, and he was doing something, and I couldn’t think of any other way to stop him.”

Fernando perched next to you, taking one of your hands in his, ducking his head a little to meet your gaze. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you got out okay, yeah?”

You sniffled once, hands starting to shake. “Only because of John,” you whispered, shaking your head a little. “It was dumb, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

Fernando wordlessly pulled you into him, one hand patting your back gently but a little awkwardly as you fought back tears.

“Here. Tea.” Kelly nudged you, ever aware of her strength, holding a mug until you took it. Fernando looked a little relieved, honestly. You couldn’t blame him.

“Any idea how long things will take?” You took a sip of the tea. A little bland, but warm and soothing.

Kelly shrugged, a monumental shift of broad shoulders. “Arbiter is chatty. Could be a while. Longer for ships to arrive.”

Naturally. You made a face but didn’t protest, just drinking your tea. You still felt unsteady, like thinking too hard about anything might tip you out of balance again. Logically, you knew you shouldn’t be surprised - you’d had a harrowing experience that was going to stay with you for a long time.

But logic was hard to come by when you were busy wrestling your emotions back under control.

The quiet was almost too much, after the stress of the last few days. But it was good, too - at least it meant there wasn’t any further excitement. Against your will, your head started to dip, eyelids growing heavy. The quiet was also very good for making you sleepy, at least when you were running on so little sleep.

Fernando pushed you to take a nap, promising he’d wake you when something happened.

So when you did wake up, bleary and confused, to someone sitting next to you, you thought it was Fernando.

“Go back to sleep,” John murmured, voice low and rough. A heavy arm settled over your waist as John laid down behind you, already dressed down.

“What happened?” you asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“Nothing yet.” He breathed out slowly, tickling the back of your neck. “Sleep.”

You huffed half-heartedly. You wanted more answers. But the furnace-like heat of him was soothing, his even breathing lulling you back to sleep before you could voice a complaint.

You woke next time over-warm, restless and finally alert again. It took a bit of doing to get out from under John’s arm, but you did it.

Only to find him awake, lips twitching with the barest of smiles, eyes bright with amusement. You dropped your head, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.” He didn’t move, just watching you.

“Good, you can catch me up on everything that I missed yesterday.” You sat up carefully, mindful of your bruises and aches.

John shrugged, looking up at you while still reclined. “Nothing interesting.”

“Nothing interesting?” Your eyebrows shot up. “Somehow I doubt that.”

John shrugged again, though his lips twitched. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Arbiter has agreed to give us aid,” he said, either taking pity on you or deciding not to test your patience. “UNSC ships are on the way, but it’ll take time for them to get here.”

You nodded, not quite sure how you felt about that. You’d been away for so long, and then this Halo had become its own kind of existence. You didn’t know what would happen after this, anxiety rising at all the possibilities parading through your mind.

You breathed in slowly. You didn’t need to have all the answers right now. You were okay. You had time.

John was watching you, though he didn’t reach for you. He just watched.

You managed a little smile. “Breakfast?” Sure, you did both need to eat, but also you needed out of this conversation and out of your head.

That got him moving, and it wasn’t long until the two of you were walking to get food. Your thigh ached, forcing you to go slower than normal, but you grit your teeth and worked through it. John didn’t offer to carry you, which was good because you probably would have hurt yourself smacking him.

It was odd to see Sangheili around the base, standing taller than most everybody else. They kept out of the way, mostly, though a few of them had humans with them. You couldn’t hear the conversations, but you imagined mostly it was to do with supplies. Probably.

John still attracted stares, as always, and you could just hear murmurs rippling through camp about the encounter with the Endless. How anybody knew, you weren’t sure, and you weren’t sure you cared to find out. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Soldiers were terrible gossips, so the story was bound to get around and probably even grow.

But he wasn't the only one attracting stares.

You finally caught on when someone ahead of you in the chow line actually stopped and turned to look at you. Not at John. At you.

“John,” you whispered, gaze flitting from person to person, uncertain.

“Ignore them,” he muttered, gaze flicking down to yours before he gently nudged you forward.

You frowned but didn't say anything more, just getting your food and then finding an empty table. The stares bothered you though, in a way they never had when it was just John people stared at.

And then Fred plopped down next to you, making the bench shudder under his sudden weight, the bulk of him blocking most of the rest of the room from your view. The arm he threw over your shoulders helped.

“Good to see you awake,” he rumbled, flashing you a smile.

“Thanks.” You relaxed, finally doing more than just poking at your food. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, not much.” Fred smirked down at you. “Just that you became a legend.”

You choked on your bite of food. There were several moments of flurry as both Spartans tried to help, until you were no longer choking. “What?” You managed to ask, a little wheezy still.

Fred and John exchanged a look before Fred cleared his throat. “Well,” Fred started, unusually slowly. “Word has gotten around about your part in defeating Atriox.”

“I'm sorry, my what? My part?” You couldn't quite help the way your voice slowly went up in pitch.

“You did roll a grenade under him,” John pointed out, entirely too reasonably.

“That was hardly anything,” you pointed out, gaze darting between the two Spartans. “I was mostly useless.”

“You survived.” Fred spoke quietly, almost gently, his gaze fixed on you.

Your jaw dropped a little and you looked between the two rapidly, not sure how you felt. How you should feel. Your head throbbed, too much too soon, and you shoved away from the table abruptly. It felt like every eye in the mess was on you as you walked swiftly out, palms clammy, breathing fast.

You didn't want any of this. You hadn't done that for recognition, or anything like that. You'd just wanted to help.

A call of your name finally jerked you to a halt, and you blinked rapidly. You'd made it almost all the way to the edge of camp, the Pelican not far from you. Fernando watched from the open door, hair extra ruffled.

“You okay?” He asked, brow furrowing in his concern.

“Just…” You shrugged, hands flapping uselessly at your side as words failed you entirely.

Fernando didn't push. Instead he stepped down onto the grass, walking over to you. He looked at you, closely enough that you weren't sure what to think, before he nodded once.

“I see you learned part of why I avoid the mess.”

That startled a huff out of you. “I think so,” you agreed, dry but more settled.

“Come on, got some rations here.” Fernando dropped his arm over your shoulders, leading you into the Pelican. “Did Chief bother to catch you up on the actual news?”

“I think so,” you murmured, settling easily into the copilot seat and taking the bar that Fernando handed you. “We're getting supplies and stuff from the Sangheili, and human ships are on the way to us.”

“That's about it,” Fernando agreed. “Joy says it shouldn't be more than a week.”

“Right!” Joy popped to life between the two of you with an easy smile. “And then everybody will get to go home!”

Home. The thought filled your chest with an odd ache. You weren't ready to think about home yet. “But we've had so much fun here,” you snarked. “What are we doing about the remaining Endless?”

Joy shrugged, though the look she shot to Fernando was almost worried. “I don't think that's been decided yet.”

“You are doing nothing,” Fernando scolded, even as he held out a canteen to you. “You are staying where it is safe.”

You snorted. “I'm staying with John.”

Fernando eyed you, clearly debating if he could win an argument. His lips twitched. “Stubborn.”

You laughed quietly. “What's that old saying? Pot something kettle?”

Fernando just snickered at you. “Finish eating,” he ordered you. “And drink more water.”

You blinked at him, momentarily nonplussed. “Since when did you get bossy?” But you took another bite of the bar.

“Since things keep happening and you keep getting hurt.” Fernando watched you to make sure you ate and drank before he finally looked away, satisfied.

Silence settled between the two of you, comfortable after all this time together.

You wondered if you'd still be able to find this kind of quiet after the rescue ships arrived.

“You know you're not going to end up alone, right?”

You jerked your gaze to Fernando, who wasn't even looking at you, but out at the view ahead of you both. It looked deceptively peaceful, with only a few lingering marks of humanity around.

“I don't…” You swallowed, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Chief will follow you wherever you go,” Fernando continued. “And I'm with him. Pretty sure Blue Team follows him too, mostly. So you won't be alone.”

You breathed through the shock and revelation of that. You'd unpack that issue another day.

“Neither will you,” you pointed out, giving him the same courtesy of watching the long grass sway.

Both of you pretended not to notice signs of high emotion in the other.

Heavy boots coming up the ramp made you both turn, watching as John approached. He didn’t say anything, just stood calmly between the two of you, one hand resting on your shoulder.

He didn’t magically make things better. The panic still gnawed at your chest, the ache in your thigh hadn’t abated, and the dampness under your eyes hadn’t suddenly gone away.

But you felt better, anyway. Just having John at your side helped.

Things weren’t okay, and possibly never would be. But you were all alive.

That was enough.

–

It took a week for human ships to arrive.

Arbiter had led an assault against the remaining Endless, with Blue Team of course. You stayed behind, with Fernando threatening to sit on you. You did hear afterwards that there were fewer Endless than anticipated. Kelly seemed relaxed… except for the tap of her fingers against her thigh.

But there was nothing else to be done. If some Endless somehow managed to get off the Halo, nobody knew how, or where they had gone. There was nothing to be done.

It took a little time to arrange evacuation - the wounded went first, then everyone else. Chief, of course, insisted on being on the Pelican, along with Blue Team and yourself. Fernando, of course, was piloting.

You personally made sure Lindsay and Carter got on board a ship.

It was odd, seeing the base so empty. Not many were left beyond a few Sangheili and the last of the survivors of the Infinite.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Fernando murmured, unconsciously mirroring your thoughts, even as he stood next to you.

“It is.” Your lips twisted in some complicated expression. You wouldn’t miss life here. You’d never miss those months of fear and cold and survival. But all the same… “Just as strange to suddenly be going back.”

Fernando hummed soft understanding. “It’s not all bad,” he said with a little teasing nudge of his elbow to your ribs.

“No,” you agreed, hearing John coming up behind the two of you. “Not all.”

“These are the last to board,” John informed you, one big hand settling at your waist. “The Pelican is loaded.”

You breathed in deep, slowly. This Halo truly was beautiful.

Maybe someday you’d be able to look at long grass and flowers again.

“Let’s go,” you said, turning away from the view to look up at John, staring into the familiar gold of his visor.

Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you knew he smiled. Just a little. Just for you. “Together.”

#warrior song #master chief x reader #john-117 x reader #f!reader

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