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worldwidebt7 · 5 years ago

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Hell(L)ing || 01

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,160

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: Seokjin’s ego...? This chapter is as clean as Jungkookie’s vocals.

§ — A/N: So, this was originally supposed to be for @bang-tan-bitches “Monster Mash Challenge,” but I’ve clearly failed to make deadline for that… There’s just so much more to this story than I had originally anticipated, I even decided to make it multi-chapter! I’ve been in such a writing mood the last couple of weeks. I got like this last year too around this time, which is how this blog even got started. I know you guys are waiting on the next chapter of “Black or White,” but I’ve got a couple commissions I need to get out and I really need to get some of this writing itch out of my system. I know I’m not the best writer, but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less! The first couple of chapters are kind of slow, but I’m trying to build suspense, so bear with me!

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

The lake house was your sanctuary.

The little house stood within walking distance of the largest lake near your city, and while it was a man-made lake, nothing about the surrounding woodlands was artificial in anyway. Tall trees and greenery stretched as far as the eye could see to the south, east, and west of your home. The north, however, was reserved for the brilliant view of the lake.

From the large wall of windows in your modest A-frame style cottage, each morning you watched the sun flood light over the waters from the east, warming you as you sat in your plush, circular lounge chair with your morning coffee. Each night, the moon sprinkled diamonds across its surface, sending you to sleep with stars in your dreams. Yes, this place was ideal for you in every way— quiet, surrounded by the calm of nature, and, most importantly, secluded. You couldn’t be near people, not because you particularly disliked others of your species, but because it physically hurt you to be among them in large throngs. Some would ask why; why push others away, why live by yourself in the middle of the woods?

It was because you were an empath; a decidedly difficult thing to live with from your experience.

It hadn’t always been as unbearable as it has in your recent years— when you were younger you embraced your gift, loved it even. You enjoyed how special it made you feel and you wanted to share it with others. So much so, that you graduated college and opened up what some would call a ‘spiritual business.’ And, at first, it was wonderful. You were able to help and entertain people with something that came so naturally to you, and many sought you out almost like a therapist. Of course, you were far more successful giving them insights to themselves, as you could read their emotions as clearly as watching television.

Well, of course it wasn’t as simple as that— it was more like feeling an electrical current through your body that was connected to a person’s emotions, and each emotion was laced with a color that would flash across your eyes like pulse. It was honing in on other’s emotions that caused you to shut yourself away as you did. The more you did it, the stronger your gift had become and the more in tune you became with others’ emotional states. When you first began, you would have to hug a person or hold their hand in order to access your ability. Soon, anyone within close vicinity of you was enough to get a read on them.

Now, it was anyone within nearly a 500-foot radius of you would bombard you with their happiness, sorrow, anger, and affection. You had tried your best to manage it— only taking a handful of appointments a day and heading straight home when they were complete. You no longer visited your favorite cafes, went to see a film in theaters, and it had become impossible for you to even go grocery shopping. It was at this revelation, and one too many nights suffering through the spikes of passion during your neighbors’ love-making sessions, that you were forced to move out of the city and into the wilderness.

And, finally, with some peace, you were able to live semi-normally. You missed people, more often than not as it seemed, but you have come to terms with your life. You were no longer using your abilities to do readings or holding technically unlicensed therapy sessions, and instead had somehow picked up writing. You were told that the way you described human emotion was ‘far beyond what a singular-introspect should be able to accomplish’ and you supposed it was because of your once adored gift. And while you were content living in solitude, you relished in the days when you had visitors.

It may not be frequent, but you still had friends that came to visit with you, as well as your editor and a cute delivery guy who brings you your groceries every two weeks. The grocery boy, Jungkook, who’s name you finally managed to pull out of him after three months of seeing his round nervous eyes in awkward silence, was the person you saw most often. At first, you thought it was sad, seeing as he didn’t talk to you at all besides a quick “thank you, have a good day” at the end of his visits before scurrying away, making the only person you saw on a regular basis someone you didn’t even talk to, not that you didn’t try. You could tell he was nervous, uncomfortable around strangers, but there was something else more pungent beneath that kept him wary— fear.

Once he had become comfortable enough to talk to you, he had confided that there were quite a few rumors spreading around about you— the most prominent being that you were a witch. You laughed, though it was not totally far from the truth. He seemed a bit unnerved by your laughter, so you smiled at him and told him that you had once owned a spiritual business and, for the first time in months, offered to give him a reading. He accepted, suddenly less afraid and more curious of you, and the two of you have been friends ever since.

You weren’t supposed to see Jungkook for another week or so, his deliveries come on every first and third Friday of the month, and you normally impatiently wait for his company until then, however, this coming Monday, you were to see your editor, Kim Namjoon, who works for Big Hit Publishing. He was an excellent writer himself, but that never caused any imposition of his own style onto his clients’, which you appreciated greatly.

Now, as you had said before, you were supposed to be getting a visit from Namjoon on Monday, and today was currently Wednesday, so imagine your surprise when a series of emotions enter your senses just after midday, signaling the approach of another human being approaching your door. Brows furrowed, you pluck yourself out of your plush chair and set down the book you were currently engrossed in. You were expecting to have a relaxing, empty day today, but the universe seems to have other plans for you.

The first waves you pick up are timid and non-threatening, so you assumed they were a friendly stranger in need of something. You stood by the door and waited your guest to knock, as you had learned that it was quite abnormal to open the door for someone before they announced themselves. When the rapping at the door finally came, you still postponed opening the door for a beat to make it appear as if you had walked away from whatever you were doing.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you opened the door, coming face-to-face with a tall stranger with plush lips and broad shoulders. You blinked, giving him a once-over. Long legs, toned, from what you could see. A slim, yet sturdy middle that branched out to his wide shoulders which were the perfect podium for the long neck that lead to his perfect face. Dark eyes, straight nose, and, oddly, appealing purple hair. Why purple? You wonder to yourself, but before you can delve any further into that thought a charming smile spreads across his lips.

“Hello!” He chirps in a light tone. You return the greeting, finally broken from the stupor the attractive man had put you in. “I’m Kim Seokjin! I just moved into a house just a-ways up the lake.” He introduced himself as he held out his hand for you to shake. You looked at it warily for a moment before taking it lightly. You have to stop yourself from flinching as another wave of electric emotions filled your senses. Nervousness— from meeting someone new? Fear— perhaps he has heard the rumors about you. And something else… something you don’t have much experience with, so you can’t pinpoint what it is. Over all, nothing too peculiar about this man besides his hair color.

“Y/N,” you managed after you pushed through his sensation of your powers. Seokjin nodded at you as if confirming that he’s learned your name and released your hand, slipping his own into the pocket of his trousers. You shifted a bit, your own discomfort becoming apparent. You weren’t used to dealing with people anymore, let alone strangers. It’s been just over a year since you separated yourself from society, so your social skills were rather impaired now.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” He said cheerfully, and you felt his nervousness fade fractionally. “I just wanted to come meet the only neighbor I have for miles and offer my services!” You gave him an incredulous look, but his enthusiasm didn’t waiver.

“Your services?” You couldn’t help the playful hint that leaked its way into your voice. The man was rather… boisterous, to put it kindly, and he had an air of confidence around him that made you believe he knew how good-looking he was.

“Yes!” He chirped, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding a small business card out to you. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call!” He grinned down at you and you returned with a pleasant smile, taking the card from him carefully to avoid brushing his fingers with yours. “After all, it’s not often you’ll get a neighbor as attractive as me!” At that, your smile fell and you blinked at him once more with wide eyes. His laughter filled your ears, obviously amused with himself and your reaction, and you couldn’t help the awkward chuckle that escaped you too. How were you supposed to respond to that?

“Uh, yes, well… thank you, Mr. Kim.” You held up his card, forcing a smile his way. You had no idea how to deal with such a man— he wasn’t like anyone you’ve met before. Your friends were confident, yes, but this guys just set a new standard.

“Seokjin, or Jin, please,” he corrected. “Mr. Kim is my father. Or that crazy old guy who’s constantly yelling at youths about laziness and too much PDA. Ah, no, that’s still my father….” At that you gave a sincere chuckle. Giant Narcissistic complex aside, he seemed like a relatively good guy, and with your constant loneliness perhaps it was time you became friendly with one neighbor. It doesn’t hurt that he is, unfortunately, as good looking as he implies. You fiddled with the card in your fingers.

“Seokjin, then,” You looked at the floor shyly. “Thank you.” His grin widens and he nods, putting his hand back in his pocket.

“Of course!” He tilted his head to look around your form and into your home and gave a low whistle. “Nice place! You should invite me over to dinner sometime!” Ah, that ego again. Of course, you could only be so ‘honored’ to have someone as good-looking as him come to your place for dinner. Seokjin’s personality has seemed to break through your walls as you snort at his comment.

“It’s rather impolite to invite yourself to dinner. Maybe I’ll just show up at your place next time,” you joked, giggling a bit, when the air around you turned sour. Panic— panic— panic— he was panicking. Why? It was so strong; why was he panicked? Oh, god it was everywhere, it was suffocating. But as you looked at his face, it was as calm and charming as ever, a kind smile still gracing his pillow-y lips.

“Spare me the embarrassment, please— you wouldn’t believe it with how put-together and beautiful I am, but my home is an absolute disaster!” He laughed, and it was such a stark difference from the emotions radiating off of him that it made your head spin. You schooled your expression though, making it seem as if nothing was off.

“A-ah, I see,” You cleared your throat, trying to extinguish the panic he was pouring into you. “Well, then, if I ever make too much food…” You trailed off slightly, causing him to hum.

“Give me a call! I’ll be happy to eat whatever you have extra!” He took that moment to smoothly end the conversation. “Well, I should head home! Maybe try to get my house into presentable condition.” Seokjin gave a light chuckle before stepped back away from your door and began backtracking. “It was nice to meet you Miss Y/N!” He waved, and you strained a smile before returning the gesture with a small wave of your own.

“You as well, Seokjin,” And with that, he turned on his heel and headed down your driveway to where you finally noticed his sporty little white Hyundai is parked. You watched him get into his vehicle and begin backing out of your dirt driveway before you closed your front door and leaned against it, breathing in your first lungful of unencumbered air now that Seokjin is driving away and taking his heavy emotions with him.

What was that? The moment you suggested visiting his home he put off wave after wave of terror. Was he uncomfortable with people entering his home? No, even if it were a mess, there’s no reason to get that worked up about visitors. Especially since it didn’t seem like he had anxiety. No, it seemed more like… like he had something to hide?

Ah.

You pushed away from your door and made your way back to your chair overlooking the lake, more focused now with your clarity. That ‘something else’ that you hadn’t been able to identify earlier when you first saw him standing in front of your house.

It was deception.

The next two days pass without incident. Seokjin had not stopped by again, nor did you attempt to contact him. After your first meeting, you figured rushing to get to know him may not be in your best interests considering the electric negative emotions he had bombarded you with. Panic, fear, anxiety— all leading to the revelation that he was hiding something from you. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad person.

This was one of the rare times where you were getting two very different readings and felt as if you couldn’t completely rely on your gift. Usually you were able to weed people out easily— both a blessing and a curse— which is why you only have a handful of people you actually trusted. This one, however, was quite confusing…

“Kim Seokjin…” You muttered to yourself, tapping your pen against your notepad. You had been trying to jot down notes for the next book you were planning, but all you could think about was Kim-fucking-Seokjin.

You groaned and tossed your pen onto the kitchen table. You had decided to work there today since you couldn’t seem to get anything done in your office yesterday, but as it turns out it wasn’t the setting that was bothering you, but your mind. Of all the times to have writers block, it had to be now— the weekend before your meeting with Namjoon to discuss the proposal for your next book. You had just about everything you needed, except how to start it. Endings were always your strength; your novels always started with the ending and you worked your story backwards. Beginnings were always slow and uneventful; they were so tedious to get through with character introductions and setting descriptions. Ugh. Torture.

With a huff, you gave up, pushing away from the table and standing up. Your gaze drifted over to the lake; maybe some time out of the house would help clear your head. Taking your socks off before you can have second thoughts, you tread to the glass door leading out to your backyard. You quickly make your way across your patio and on to the lush green lawn, the blades of grass tickling your feet as you strolled down, down, further down until the grass ended and sand began. Your stride didn’t stop until your toes touched the cool water and you bend over to roll the sweatpants you’re wearing up to your knees in order to take a further step into the lake.

A relieved sigh slipped through your lips as you tilted your face towards the sky and let the warm breeze caress your troubled body while you thought. You hadn’t had an issue with reading someone like you were having with Seokjin in quite some time, and it was bothering you more than a little bit. Your instincts were telling you that he was good: kind, silly, and a little [read: a fuckton] egotistical. But your readings… they were throwing you off entirely. Your gut or your abilities— which one do you rely on in this situation?

Splashing in the water to your right breaks through your thoughts and you whip your head around to see what it is. At first, you didn’t see anything; the splashing sounded a bit further away from your current location, but the serene quiet that lays over the lake like a delicate shroud allows sound to travel. You focused, straining your eyes to try and pick out any detail that doesn’t belong to the scenery, until a small figure appears in the distance.

‘It’s… a boy?’ Curious. Seokjin said he moved in just up the lake, but, to you, this doesn’t look like your new neighbor. To start, this man had dark hair, and while Seokjin’s purple hair wasn’t particularly bright, you’d still be able to differentiate the splash of color against the natural scenery. Another thing was he was staring right at you, and yet made no move to greet you in any way. You shifted under his stare— it was unnerving to say the least, and it didn’t help that he was far enough away that your empath capabilities couldn’t pick up on his intentions.

So, deciding to end the uncomfortable stare-down, you lifted a hand to wave at him silently. The boy did nothing in return; in fact, if you had to guess, he hadn’t even blinked either. You slowly retracted your hand and began chewing on your bottom lip as another revelation hit you. Seokjin didn’t mention anything about a roommate, and everything on this stretch of lakeside property was private property. You certainly hadn’t seen him before, and so begs the question: who is this man and where did he come from?

Suddenly, the man’s attention was caught by something else, his head snapping towards the trees. For a moment, he did nothing else as you continued to scrutinize his every move. However, he only looked at you once more before turning fully to the trees and striding quickly into them with purpose. You stared in unrestricted wonder at the spot he had just been standing, before turning and walking back inside your house, locking all of your doors for safe measure.

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mybeautifulbeautifuleternal · 5 years ago

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I'd never want once from the cherry tree

rating: still as fluffy as i can make it

words: 1.2k

Post season 2 oneshot

warnings: this is full of season 2 spoilers but it is an au of it

AO3

a/n: this came from a conversation i was having with @amaninthemaking on discord so if it gives you cavities blame them

summary: post season 2 au - its finally a nice day in the city and the entire family has a BBQ

Raymond paused in the doorway leading outside. He let the chaos of the moment and the family - his family, what a world - roll over him.

It was the height of the summer months but the heatwave that had been battering the state finally relented and cooler winds, literally, prevailed.

But the nice weather prompted the disasters happening in the backyard. Sissy and his new mother-in-law Grace had decided that because the weather finally allowed for it, they were going to have a family BBQ.

This wouldn’t have changed anything but his amazing Allison had been doing so well in her court-mandated therapy sessions that her therapist encouraged her to reach out to her ex-husband and ask if he and their daughter Claire would like to visit for a week - meet the family, see the sights.

Raymond was cautiously excited. He had met Claire before, soon after they arrived in 2019, but it was for a very short court-approved and monitored session. This was going to be longer and probably fraught with more tension.

This time, instead of having a therapist on hand to calm words and guide the meeting, it was only going to be his new siblings-in-law and their respective partners. Of which, only a few were calm beings.

Most of them brought chaos into his life just by being who they were. Klaus was still quoting what he now knew were song lyrics, still holding onto his cult leader persona, mostly by accident - he usually made a face at himself after he said something particularly cringey. Dave was helping him with that by distracting him.

Diego and Lila were either found in some dark corner, not presentable, or were arguing with each other or with Five, usually about something small like shoes left in the wrong place, but sometimes they’d be arguing about the Commission. Those days usually ended up with weapons being drawn.

Five, when not being distracted by those two, could be seen popping up here and there and when and where. Raymond had decided early on to not worry too much about the kid that wasn’t. It usually went better for his sanity when he wasn’t trying to figure out the time travel nonsense that went hand in hand with the oldest of the siblings.

A lot of stuff relating to siblings-in-law went that way. He wasn’t too hung up about the powers or even the superhero stuff but he still couldn’t believe he had so many white boys as family.

Only for his marvelous Allison…

But for the most part, he was settled into his new life. He picked up where he left off in the ‘60s, working on bringing actual equality into the country. He and lovely Allison had made the decision to stay in the mansion where she had grown up, not seeing a real reason to buy their own place when it was so big and mostly empty.

He watched as Luther (still the biggest white boy he’d ever seen), Klaus (still the biggest personality he’d ever seen), and Dave (a piece of a more familiar but long distant time) work their way steadily through the huge house, painting it lighter colors, repairing the damage old age and disuse had heaped on the building.

Diego and Lila were always down to help police events that he was organizing, helping protect those that wanted to protest peacefully, helping get supplies through to where they needed to go, and helping remove those that were there to cause trouble.

His darling Allison was working extremely hard to get through all of her therapy sessions so she might have a chance to raise her daughter. When not there, she was either helping him in his little office or volunteering elsewhere in the city.

Klaus and Dave, when not helping Luther, were going to either AA meetings or Veterans meetings. Raymond was still so surprised at how much help was available nowadays to people who needed it. They were also trying to find jobs that they would actually like to do. Apparently none of them ever needed to work again, Reginald having left the entire Hargreeves fortune to them, but the two of them wanting something else in their life but fixing the house and their meetings.

Five was in and out so often, Raymond had a hard time keeping track of him. And when they were in the same vicinity, he had a hard time keeping up with the old young man. He felt better though seeing the glazed eyes of his siblings - at least it wasn’t just him.

Ben and Jill were steadily working on the garden - it was looking amazing out there, he couldn’t lie. It had only taken them a week to remove the concrete blocking a majority of the yard and the large wall separating the main section from the rest of the yard. Raymond thought that Vanya might have had a little too much fun bringing down the wall but he wasn’t going to say anything to the woman capable of that kind of destruction.

But the garden now looked extremely different. The strange people who apparently worked at the Commission were true to their word when they said they could speed up a tree life cycle. Now there was a giant willow tree dominating the back yard next to a lovely pond. Luther had filled it with koi fish and had taken to caring for the fish along with the 5 cats, 3 dogs, and the large fish tank that now filled the main entry room.

Vanya had gone back to teaching the violin - her students really loved coming to the mansion with its multitude of rooms available for use. Sissy, after getting Harlan used to their new normal and creating a routine with Grace for the day, had gotten a job at Macy’s. She really seemed to like that work though. Harlan had seemingly adjusted better than all the others combined.

And now all these people were filling up their backyard. Luther, Diego, and Patrick were manning the grill - the smoke coming from that direction was not particularly promising. He was glad that Grace, Sissy, Dave, and Jill were working on all the non-meat food. Ben and Klaus were supposed to be blowing up some balloons and setting up some games for later - and were instead rolling about on the ground. Claire and Harlan were carefully playing together under the watchful eyes of Vanya and the stunning Allison. Lila and Five were fighting each other but they were setting up tables under the willow tree. Herb and Dot were considered guests and were allowed to just relax - they were sitting in some of the hammocks placed closer to the willow tree than the tables Five and Lila were setting up. Pogo (and wild was that? He married into a family with a chimpanzee uncle? Butler? He wasn’t too sure on the exact relationship) was sitting near them, reading some new book Ben had suggested to him. He was tasked with bringing out the dishes and condiments.

Raymond had no idea how this had become his life but he didn’t think he’d change it for the world.

Why would he? He had married the best woman in the world, his job was making a visible difference in the world, somehow his family (crazy white people, mostly) were amazing, their home was better than any hope he’d ever had, and Allison had told him earlier today that their family was going to be just a little bit bigger in only a couple of months.

How could he be anything other than deliriously happy?

#the umbrella academy imagine #spoilers #tua season 2 #season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #the umbrella academy #tua #tua imagine #raymond chestnut #allison hargreeves #my stuff #m's fics #hargreeves children #I'd never want once from the cherry tree

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alarriefantasy · 5 years ago

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hello lovely, hope you’re well. can you rec some forbidden love fics? not picky about anything really. just maybe not too much angst? like i don’t mind when it’s there just don’t like it when the fic revolves around it...if that makes sense. thank you!

I THOUGHT I HAD ONE AND I DO NOT AND I AM SO STUNNED YOU HAVE NO IDEA. LIKE I WAS SOOOOOOOO SURE I HAD THE LIST ALREADY! WOWOOWWO! Anyway, yes darling I will make a list for you! Hope you enjoy!

Forbidden Love

We Gotta Get Away From Here by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 4k

Or a Royal AU where Prince Harold needs saving and Louis is his Knight in shining armor...sort of.

Mew for me, pretty kitten. by justgotowisharder

Words: 9k

(or Harry is a kitten without owner and Louis is a boy with a kitten. They shouldn't be together but who cares)

The Ballerina Boy by justgotowisharder

Words: 10k

(Or the one where the boys work in a circus, Harry is the pretty ballerina locked in a cage and Louis loves him more than anything in this world.)

Don't Let the Tide Come by SadaVeniren

Words: 14k

aka King Louis of the fire tribe has a week to find his water tribe soulmate. This would be infinitely easier if the four tribes on the continent were not isolated from one another.

I Can Change What You See by devon, Larrygustavsson

Words: 23k

Louis works in a small coffee shop, his life changes when Prince Harry walks in

You're the Light by allwaswell16

Words: 31k

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

I could use somebody by Samcgrath

Words: 41k

Louis comes to stay at Liam's place while he's on a business trip. Liam's boyfriend Harry is the last person Louis should be dreaming about or lusting after. But what do you do when you fall for your little brother's boyfriend? Louis tries to stay away. He does.

My Sweetest Downfall by kiwikero

Words: 42k

Louis is a retired guardian angel. After the death of his last charge, he became jaded. Humans die—what use is prolonging the inevitable?

He's more than happy to forget about humanity altogether until one day, when Louis is pulled from his desk job for a new assignment: protect One Direction's Harry Styles. It doesn't help that there's something about Harry that Louis can't resist, and it's making him question everything he's ever known. Humans are strictly off limits, and breaking that rule means risking everything, but Harry just might be worth it.

This is a story about forgiveness and discovery, featuring an angel who wants to be a little more human and a human who is so much more than he seems.

Even Angels Have Their Demons by AFangirlFantasy

Words: 53k

Or... an Angel/Demon AU where Angel Louis hates Demon Harry, but somewhere along the way that stops being so true.

The Bachelor by Snowy38

Words: 53k

Or the one where Harry dates six other guys and still falls in love with Louis Tomlinson ;)

And I'll Be Yours To Keep by sweetly_disposed

Words: 58k

Moving from a rough school to a private performing arts college is a culture shock for Louis. He's trying to settle in the best he can, establish himself as a respectable teacher when the kids he's teaching are only a few years younger than himself. One student in particular, quiet Harry Styles, catches Louis' attention from the word go.

It soon becomes apparent that Harry has talent, is one of the best ballet dancers Louis has ever seen. Louis has a responsibility to keep Harry at arm's length, but with every day that goes by, he feels his control slip a little more. It's risky for everyone involved, but somehow...Harry seems worth it.

("That's Harry Styles," Zayn said. "He's been at the school since he was eleven. Hands down the best male ballet dancer here, I swear.")

Don't Think About The Consequences by selflovelouis

Words: 70k

“Can you shut up, for once?” Styles asks, and Louis’ eyes widen in shock. He opens his mouth, and Styles can tell he’s going to start yelling again about something absurd that Styles really doesn’t want to listen to. Professor Styles keeps talking instead, not giving Louis the chance to yell. “How…. how do you go from flirting with me in the middle of class to these annoying outbursts of anger? Can’t you just, can’t you just…” Fuck it.

He leans in, and molds his lips against Louis’ open mouth. The wind gets knocked out of him when their lips finally meet, and he can finally feel Louis’ softness against his own lips. His hands reach up to cup Louis’ face, as Louis leans closer to Styles and he finally relaxes into Styles’ embrace. Styles doesn’t deepen the kiss, instead he pulls away and ghosts his lips across Louis’ while he comprehends what he just did fully. Fuck.

Hate Me To The Moon by harrystylesandstuff

Words: 83k

AU where Harry is a sexy nerd, Louis is a great actor, and they both pretend to hate each other's guts to convince themselves they're not feeling things future step-brothers shouldn't feel...

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

"You belong to nobody else but me, asphodel."

Therapy by harrystylesandstuff

Words: 111k

Or AU where Harry’s depressed and Louis’ the therapist who will try to help him find a reason to keep going

The Note by lovemylarry

Words: 131k

Louis is new in Holmes Chapel. After his dad left without a trace he moved there with his family. When he gets detention on a Friday afternoon he isn’t aware of the fact that this day will change his life forever. Besides school, new friends and parties, Louis struggles with his sexuality. Why is his young teacher Mr. Styles affecting him that much? Louis isn’t gay, definitely not. The student is convinced about that until the day his heart finally tells him he has been wrong all the time.

As You Are by zarah5

Words: 139k

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

#ask

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firesofdainix · 6 years ago

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I Learn to Live Half-Alive

AO3 Version

PREQUEL: LONG ROAD to SUCCESS

Everyone emerging from the simulation, all changed. And they hate it.

the former ultimate adventurer celebrates the day he dies.

Amami is happy that he dies the first in the game.

Rantaro remembered the time he was in love with Danganronpa. But that was a long time ago, before he goes in that virtual world. He hates it in there. Despair crawling on his back, and hoping it'd end soon. And it honestly did, after Chapter 6 of the fifty-second game. No, that wasn't the end. Since the Danganronpa fans 'loved' him so much, Team Danganronpa decided to bring him back to the virtual world. To bring him back to the place he hates so much.

Tsumugi Shirogane.

He knows she's the mastermind of v3, but of course, his avatar from the virtual world didn't know that, and ended up getting killed. And he enjoyed it.

Rantaro can't wait to just go back to the world where he was friends with Angie, Maki, Himiko, Shuichi, and, of course, Kokichi. Rantaro knows Kokichi loves him, and the feeling is mutual. Even confessed his love to him before the boy gets into the audition. He just wished he spent more time with the boy before they go inside the virtual world. But seeing each other was prohibited.

Rantaro is escorted out of the simulation room. The hallways, corridors, and doors were all familiar to him, because he's already been in here before. A Chapter One victim, huh? Very ironic, since in this season, he's the Ultimate Survivor, replacing his old Ultimate Adventurer talent. He can't help a smile creep up his face because he is already free from the hands of Danganronpa. He must be assuming all his fans are in an uproar because he was killed of so early in the game. But, you can't satisfy audiences with anything.

Before he goes home, he has to rest for some time in the Waiting Area. His father never cares about him, and only cares about his reputation. He sighs, knowing it can't be helped if his father has no interest in him. And Rantaro has no interest in keeping the Amami Family's name. Just give it to one of his sisters or something.

"You're Rantaro Amami, right?", a soft voice in front of him asks. He nods and looks up, seeing a face he never seen in real life ever: Kyoko Kirigiri.

"K-Kirigiri?", he says in disbelief. Why is a fictional character standing in front of him? Is he going mental?

"I see you don't believe me being alive", Kyoko says, sitting down next to Rantaro, who scoots away, with confusion in his eyes. "Don't worry. Eleven years ago, along with the Super Danganronpa Two cast, we were also in the virtual world."

"So... does that mean...?"

"Every Danganronpa show is from the virtual world." Kyoko sighs. "And we still carry the burden of being in those games."

"Um, not to be nosy, why are you here?", Rantaro asks.

Kyoko looks at a black television screen with sad eyes. "My daughter... is participating in that show."

Rantaro blinks. "May I ask... who is it?"

"Kaede", Kyoko replies, looking at her gloved hands.

Rantaro tilts his head. Kyoko, the first Ultimate Detective in the very first show of Danganronpa, is the mother of Kaede? This doesn't make any sense at all. First, he meets a character that is not fictional, and now, they're related to someone he hates? He has to get a grip of himself.

"May I ask who her father is?", Rantaro asks.

"Oh, I just adopted Kaede and her twin, along with Celeste."

And... she's married to Celeste. Rantaro sighs, and slouches on the chair he's sitting in.

"Who killed you?", Kyoko asks bluntly.

"The mastermind", Rantaro replies, feeling a little uncomfortable on talking about how his avatar died.

"Oh, then the mystery will be solved", Kyoko says.

Rantaro shakes his head. "No, knowing Tsumugi... she can frame someone anytime. But don't worry, the trials won't start until the next day."

Kyoko looks at him with something called... worry. "You've been in there... for two days."

Wait. Rantaro looks at his hands. They look to be a sickly pale color. And it looks skinny too.

"But... doesn't Team Danganronpa give them breaks?"

Kyoko shakes her head. "Sadly, not anymore. The fans wanted none stop Danganronpa v3."

That's... messed up. The reason why Team Danganronpa provided breaks is to (somehow) regain their sanity and make themselves comfortable with how they're living now. After all, they will gain their many riches in life. But remembering the traumatizing events in the simulation, and bringing it to the real world was making him mentally unstable, to the point of trying to kill someone before it was time to go back to the world of madness.

Without those breaks, each and every single one of those people in the simulation will be mentally unstable, to the point of attacking people in variety of ways. It made Rantaro mad because Team Danganronpa are filling their fans in for what they wanted, rather than what the participants want. He grits his teeth, controlling the anger inside him.

"Will Kaede be okay?", Kyoko says to herself.

Rantaro hates Kaede for being a bitch in the real world. Blackmailing people is her best hobby. Maybe she's the one who convinced Kokichi to go audition for Danganronpa. But in the actual show, she's a very positive, kind and caring students. He can feel his feelings mixing because of Kaede in that simulation.

"I think so..."

"If she comes back, I'll give her a scolding", Kyoko says. "But, you don't need to know that."

Rantaro nods. "Hey, don't you and Kaede have different surnames though?"

Instead of telling him to mind his own business, the purple woman just shrugs. "I told her she can pick any name... Anyway, as much as I like to tell you more, but I need to go to work. There is no point in watching their investigation if the television screen is black."

With only one wave of her hand, she dismisses their conversations. Her virtual self and real self are almost the same, except this Kyoko is a bit more open into sharing her experience while the virtual Kyoko doesn't. Maybe that's why he likes Kyoko when he watched Danganronpa for the first time. That hint of hype in the many shows of it made Rantaro love Danganronpa. But his favorite Danganronpa show was Super Danganronpa 2.

Well, it used to be, now he just can't seem to like Danganronpa anymore. It's really weird how people are changed so easily after discovering the dark side of everything you love. Like, becoming infatuated with this one person, but when they reveal their true colors, your affection for them lowers, until you have nothing to feel anymore. That's what Rantaro feels.

"You're giving up that easily?", a voice in his mind says. He looks around. The Waiting Area was empty. Maybe he's just hearing things. And he is.

"Hey, at least you'd still get the money", the voice speaks again.

Rantaro just lowers his head, ignoring his inner subconscious speaking inside of him. There's no way of refuting some imaginary voice inside his head. Until Team Danganronpa gives him therapy. But their only therapy is Tsumugi, and, as Rantaro recalled his therapy lessons with her, they were all pieces of shit, with her acting like nothing happened. The real therapist who pursued him was Keebo. Yet, he's also participating in Danganronpa, because he wants to be with his sister or some bullshit like that.

Apparently, they still haven't called his family, which was nice. He doesn't want to get back home yet. Hey, at least he has tons of cash he'll give to his family once he gets back. He doesn't really know what time it is, but he knows his been sitting in the Waiting Area for hours, until one of the Team Danganronpa staff comes in.

"Mr. Amami", she says politely. "It's time for your dinner."

Rantaro nods, and stands up, his legs shaking a little since he hadn't used it other than doing movements. It's nighttime already. Does this mean the trial is over? If so, who did Tsumugi frame?

"Excuse me, but is the first class trial done?", he asks the Danganronpa staff. She nods.

"Yes, but she needs some rest after her execution", she replies as they walk to the dining hall.

She. It must be a girl whom Tsumugi framed, then. But he wonders who it could be until he and the staff finally reaches the dining hall.

Rantaro realized he hadn't eaten for two days, so his stomach rumbles at the sight of the food on the table. He sits across from the Danganronpa staff, taking as much food as he wants, eyes shining and mouth drooling. When was the last time he ate real food than canned goods at the dark rooms of the building? Oh yeah, Tsumugi's mansion. He can't afford to think of his bad memories now when he starts to eat. He doesn't want to spoil his appetite.

Eating away his problems is basically what he did after the many trials of Danganronpa 52. And he's so damn skinny... he just needs food. That's it.

After getting his stomach full, he returns to the waiting room, to sit again on a seat at the Waiting Area. And no one was around. He sighs. He needs someone to talk to. He scratches the back of his head. He then suddenly remembers his death. He dodges that memory. He doesn't want to think about his death when he's this full.

It all started with the contract. He unwittingly signed it, because he was desperate for fame and attention. He wants to become a champion, someone who will win, someone who will be everyone's fan favorite. He did all this so he can be famous, not thinking of consequences, looking back now, he wouldn't have gone mental if he hadn't signed that contract.

"R-Rantaro?", a sad, yet familiar voice snaps him back to reality. He looks up, to see...

"Kaede?", he says. She looks like she's been crying, but there are still tears streaming down her face.

"I-I thought I was alone here, and y-you left", she says, hesitating to sit down next to him.

"Nah, my parents didn't know I fucking died and some shit."

He pats a chair next to him. "Sit. We have a lot to talk about."

Hesitantly, she sits down next to him. No one says anything for about ten minutes.

"Look, let's cut to the chase, okay?", Rantaro says, seemingly comforting the girl beside him. "You're the one Tsumugi framed to be my killer?"

Kaede looks up to meet Rantaro's eyes. "Yeah... wait, you mean the girl from 52?"

Rantaro nods. "Yes, her. She killed me."

Kaede facepalms. "And I thought I killed you..."

"Meh, your ball missed me."

Kaede's eyes widen. "It missed you? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, thanks to you, I got distracted by it, so Tsumugi can hit me with her own shot put ball."

"O-okay, so it's my fault you got killed?"

Rantaro shrugs. "Eh, kinda. By the way, your mom was here."

Kaede fidgets with her hands. "What? Did you know what she said?"

"Yeah, she missed you. Also, she said that she'll give you a scolding later."

"Well, Kyoko tends to do that. Goddamn, my neck is itchy." She starts to scratch it, then Rantaro catches a glimpse of her neck. It has red scratch marks on it, some obviously a little too deep.

"Death by strangulation?", he says out loud.

Kaede looks back at him, then attempts to hide her scars. She looks down again. "Actually, death by hanging..."

Rantaro fakes a cough. "O-Oh, I see..."

So, Kaede got executed by hanging. Well, this is off to a pretty brutal start, but he hopes the others don't actually get executed like Kaede. But, this is Danganronpa. They'll always get brutally executed, no matter how much you do or don't deserve it. He looks at Kaede, who's scratching her neck again. He wants to tell her to stop, but... she seems to be entranced by scratching her neck. So he minds his own business.

"Ms. Akamatsu, there you are!", a Team Danganronpa staff calls from the front of the Waiting Area. Ms. Kirigiri and Ms. Ludenberg are here to pick you up."

"They're here already...?", Kaede says. The staff nods.

"They were actually watching your... um, your chapter."

Kaede nods. "Tell them I need a minute." The staff nods, and exits the Waiting Area.

"I have to ask you something. You're close friends with Shuichi, right?"

Kaede looks at him with sadness in her eyes. "Y-yeah..."

"How do you feel about him now?"

"I have mixed feelings. Some part of me still thinks he's some kind of pawn, but the other part of me thinks of him as a friend."

Rantaro smiles. It's kinda nice that Danganronpa is giving them a change of heart for how they feel. It's one of those things Danganronpa does to make them confused with feelings. And he absolutely hates feelings. Why does he have to have these conflicting feelings that handle him, that makes him decide what kind of feeling he's supposed to show to anyone.

"Hey, are you gonna be okay being alone here?", Kaede asks him, still scratching her neck.

"I'm always alone", Rantaro replies, and watches her go. It seems like their conversation started a century ago. And he wanted it back. Why isn't his father picking him up yet?

"Excuse me, Mr. Amami?", the Team Danganronpa staff comes back, bearing some kinds of pills and a key. "Since your father is not yet here, you can stay in one of our rooms."

Rantaro yawns. "Okay, lead the way, then."

They walk through twist and turns, his head aching a bit, remembering the Ultimate Academy. Once they reach the room he's going to stay in the night, the staff gives him the key and bows, waiting for him to go inside.

The room is decent, at least for him. Yet it gives off being stuck in the Ultimate Academy. He shudders at the thought, and tries to push it back into his mind. But his dorm in the simulation keeps getting in the way of his train of thoughts. He inhales, then exhales, and goes in the room, closing the door.

He looks at the bed. It's very well-made, and it still reminds him of the school. He needs a good night's sleep. Yeah, just one good sleep, and everything will go away. All of his bad thoughts, his memories of the Danganronpa v3, will all vanish once he goes to sleep.

As his head hits the pillow, he goes to his dreams. But this dreams are not normal dreams. He opens his eyes, to find himself floating on dark water. It must be water, after all, it sounds like one. But... is that a fin, coming to get him?

Rantaro's eyes widen. He paddles as fast as he can, but he can only see darkness. Darkness surrounding everything. He's so confused, he keeps on paddling. But he hears the roaring of a waterfall. And he falls. He falls and falls, falling to darker waters. He looks up, to see nothing but darkness. But he feels like he's floating. Suddenly, he can't breathe. Were is he?

His limbs feel like wood, and he feels strings lifting him, higher, higher. He feels pain, he feels the strings burning his wooden limbs. Then he finally sees the person lifting him up. And it was him, before everything started, before he knew what Danganronpa truly is, before he stopped believing Danganronpa. The other Rantaro smirks.

"You're useless." Then he feels his limbs going slack, the strings around him falling. He looks up to see himself, smiling and laughing as he falls. This was who he is before everything, after all. Of course he's that cruel, a side he never tells anyone.

Rantaro wakes up, cold sweat on his forehead. He looks around. Just ordinary darkness. He's in a blanket. Nothing scary here. He lowers his head. And he thought he can escape his thoughts by going into his dreams. But no, that'll never happen, in his case. He'll always be followed by his bad deeds, his thoughts, everything. He'll never escape them. He'll live with it forever.

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #fanfic #i learn to live half alive #rantaro amami #kaede akamatsu #kyoko kirigiri #celestia ludenberg #oumami #amabo #kiibouma #kiiboumami

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fantasticworldoffanfics · 7 years ago

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TOP FAVS (PETER/STILES)

Fandom: TeenWolf

Baby Boy

Author: SushiOwl

Summary: What the heck is FetLife? Stiles is too curious for his own good, and he can't help himself, so he joins a website advertising to be a good place for "kinksters." He just wants to be nosy and see what total strangers are up to. Then he meets Peter, who wants to be called Daddy.

Could Stiles be his baby boy?

Red String Verse Series

Author: gryvon

Part 1: Written In Red

Summary: Peter had given up hope of ever finding his soulmate until the red string on his finger leads him to a four-year-old. He's going to Hell. Or jail. Or both.

Part 2: Red Strings

Summary: A collection of scenes that fit in with Written in Red, in no particular order.

Cuddle Therapy

Author: TriscuitsandSoup

Summary: “Do not be alarmed; I am a cuddle therapist,” the omega said, continuing his shoulder nuzzles. His voice held all the authority of the police or an FBI Agent, not the cuddle therapist he claimed to be. Peter scoffed. Cuddly therapy was just an excuse for unmated alphas and omegas to go around throwing their musk and pheromones at anyone who looked twice in their direction.Where Peter is being grumpy in a museum and is interrupted by a very determined cuddle therapist.

Easement

Author: TriscuitsandSoup

Summary: It wasn't where Peter wanted to end up after finishing his medical training; he would have much preferred an emergency room or even a maternity ward, instead of a pain clinic. His most frequent patients were teenagers with hangovers, women too shy to admit they were cramping, and perhaps the strangest of all – pain drain addicts, the people who'd gotten so used to have every minor ache and pain leeched from their bones that they mistook merely being alive as a great discomfort.

Stiles is in pain, he goes to Peters office for relief.

Mile High Stiles

Author: AzulMountain

Summary: Flight attendant Stiles Stilinkski's day couldn't get any worse when he spots the smoldering gaze of the asshole who assaulted him earlier and claimed he was kidnapping the strawberry blonde toddler. Then the father of the toddler saunters through the plane's front door and says something about his good service a mile high. Really how could things get worse? Rival werewolves and a plane crash are just the beginning of Stiles horrible day.

Of Alphas and Werebunnies Series

Author: TriscuitsandSoup

Part 1: Peter’s Omega

Summary: After Peter declined the twentieth family supper on account of Stiles "not feeling well," Talia decided to send her eldest son to checkup on Peter and his omega, and remove him if necessary. Derek had expected to find the worst, and that's what he found, just not in the way he was expecting.

Part 2: Adventures With Werecoons

Summary: Laura didn't believe Derek when he said Stiles wasn't being abused. Her mean-spirited, cruel, dripping with sarcasm uncle could not love a weak, spastic human, like the one Derek described.Series

Part 3: Fangs Don’t Fix Things

Summary: "Do you resent me for not being a werewolf?" Might as well just be upfront about it, I guess.Stiles is feeling insecure about his relationship with Peter, and wonders if things might be better if he were a werewolf.

Part 4: Looking Forward To It

Summary: Stiles never wanted an Alpha, and Peter never considered taking another Omega. The two would never even have met if Talia Hale hadn't insisted Peter screen potential mating candidates for her son, Derek. Their first meeting was a tumultuous one. How Peter met Stiles, and how they subsequently became mates. This can be read without the other parts.

Sanctuary

Author: DiscontentedWinter

Summary: The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Alpha Peter and The Rag Tags Series

Author: Triangulum

Part 1: Alpha Peter and The Rag Tags

Summary: Derek has been one of Stiles' best friends for years, almost as long as Scott. They've been friends through Stiles' mom's death, and through Derek's ex trying to burn the Hales' house down. So Stiles only feels slightly badly for ogling Derek's hot uncle. He's covered in tattoos and easily the most attractive man Stiles has ever seen."Hello, Stiles," Peter says, his voice like silk."Peter?" Stiles stammers. "You're back.""Astute as ever," Peter says."Oh, fuck off," Stiles says. Peter just laughs.

The one where Peter is a tattoo artist and an alpha without a pack, and Stiles is college student and best friends with Derek. When Peter moves back from New York, there's immediately something between them.

Part 2: Ragtags Rising

Summary: Peter takes Stiles' hand and lets Stiles draw him into bed, immediately wrapping around Stiles like he's his favorite toy. He presses a kiss behind Stiles’ ear before whispering, "I love you."Stiles loves that about Peter. Peter won't give him useless platitudes or promise it'll all be okay. Peter doesn't pry. He can probably smell Stiles' sadness and will ask about it tomorrow, but he doesn't push tonight. Peter just supports him, reminds him that he's loved, and holds him tightly. That's what Stiles needs, not a pat on the head and a Hallmark movie heart-to-heart about people meaning well.Stiles snuggles into Peter's embrace and sighs, trying to let go of the hurt and betrayal and focus on the man he's with."I love you, too."

Peter's tattoo shop is doing well, Stiles is finally done with college, the pack is settling in, everyone's tattooed all over the place, and Stiles is ridiculously in love. The big question marks in Stiles' life are his future, if he should tell Scott about werewolves, and how to deal with the fact that the sheriff isn't a fan of Peter. Among other things.

Roommate Wanted: No Supernatural Creatures Allowed

Author: veterization

Summary: Stiles is in college, living in a pleasant apartment, and absolutely does not need a roommate. He ends up getting one anyway, and as luck would have it, his roommate turns out to be Peter.

Little Boy Blues

Author: Bam4Me

Summary: Stiles is tiny and cute, pack is protective, that's all you need in life.

Littlered And Alpha5

Author: Triangulum

Summary: Stiles could say that he's a grower not a shower, but that would be a lie. On a good day, fully erect, he's three inches long. Okay, two-and-a-half. Whatever, it works for him. It's what got him into camming in the first place. There's a very specific clientele out there that's looking for exactly what Stiles has. The lithe, gay guy with a small dick is a very niche market and Stiles has managed to carve out his own place in it. The fact that he's a virgin only helps.OrStiles is a camboy and Peter is his best client.

Uncle Peter Doesn’t Date Series

Author: Mellow (SweetCandy)

Part 1: Uncle Peter Has A Boyfriend...Wait, What?

Summary: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Part 2: Uncle Peter Has A Father In Law

Summary: Laura has to suffer through the weekly family dinner.

Part 3: Uncle Peter Is A Cheater

Summary: Peter Hale and his soon to be father in law have a deep dark secret. He can only hope Stiles never finds out about this.

Part 4: Uncle Peter Has A Double Date

Summary: Derek has dinner at his Uncle's house. Things turn out to be different than he expected.

Part 5: Uncle Peter Has Fallen In Love

Summary: A little piece about Peter and Stiles' first meeting.

Surprise, I’m Engaged?

Author: lavenderlotion

Summary: Stiles Stilinski has been dating Peter Hale for nearly 5 years. He proposed 8 months ago. Neither of their families know. Huh.

I’m Not Being Paid

Author: lavenderlotion

Summary: All Stiles wanted to do was meet his fiance's family. After being together for three years (engaged for one of them) Stiles thought it was time. And yeah, Peter had told him the stories. Told him that his family wasn't great, but Stiles never realized it could be this bad.

sidenote: sequel to Surprise, I’m Engaged? of sorts.

Where Do We Run? Series

Author: islandgirl_246

Part 1: Running...But Not Far Enough

Summary: When heartbreak almost shatters Stiles, he seeks refuge away from the pack, away from his friends and everyone he knows; away from anything supernatural - or so he thought. The chain reaction his 'escape' triggers proves he may not have run as far as he'd hoped, because he's about to find a new home but kick-start a war the fates had always planned.

Part 2: When Running Becomes A Pain

Summary: Stiles gave Derek some advice and a warning before he was sent off to Iowa to heal after his torture at the hands of Kate and Gerard Argent. Being partly responsible for hunters almost having access to exterminate your family is a bitter pill for anyone to swallow. Realising you are just as fucked up as your now dead mother is no better. He doesn’t want to be saved, he knows this. But then he meets a woman with an even darker and murkier past that he has. Could she be his way back? Does he even deserve one?

Part 3: I Run So You Won’t Have To

Summary: After everything the Hale Packs, both in Stanford and Beacon Hills have been through, Lydia and Maria thought why not give this thing a try. The interest and attraction is there, they are both strong women, they could do the distance thing, surely. The only problem is neither is sure that this is the right step for them, which leads to complications for the two Packs only now getting back on their feet. And it all gets even more complicated when Stiles encounters previously peaceful packs dying in weird brutal attacks.

Part 4: Maybe We Can Run Together

Summary: Parrish has somehow always felt like an outcast. He’s not let it show very much, but there it is. As a hell hound there are certain expectations and he carries a certain amount of guilt about what happened to the Stilinski family under his watch. Now he is about to be confronted by his family, a lineage that can be traced back to purebreds for more than 2000 years, about his relationship with a bitten wolf. Added to which, threats are moving closer to home.

Part 5: The Runaway

Summary: When a lost young girl turns up on the Hale’s doorstep in Beacon Hills, scared and with a photo of Peter, it seems like he has a daughter he’s never known of. Everything about her story seems so farfetched, yet Peter is inclined to believe it, something in him believes. Stiles isn’t so sure because when asked for details about her mother, the girl doesn’t remember, and interestingly enough, she’s the one person that’s totally unreadable to Stiles. Is her story true and does his mate have a teenaged daughter no one knew about? And how do they deal with it as more supernatural packs are being attacked and abducted by wolves they still can’t track and like this new girl – that Stiles can’t sense?

Alpha, Oh Alpha Series

Author: merkkat

Part 1: He Who Finds The Dead

Summary: Stiles finds himself alone. Peter changes that.Or the first meeting.

Part 2: Between The Dead And Living

Summary: The first meeting, from Peter's eyes

Part 3: The Sun, My Love, So Soft

Summary: The morning sun was soft on Stiles. His brave little human. So fragile yet braver than any wolf he knew.

Part 4: Bleed For You

Summary: Peter gets jealous. Stiles doesn't really try to stop him.

Part 5: More Dead Than Alive

Summary: The Sheriff looks back on his relationship with Stiles

Part 6: Hellos To The Goodbyes

Summary: Peter and Stiles visit each other's family.

Is Forever Enough?

Author: Green

Summary: Stiles probably doesn't even think they're friends. But labels don't matter to Peter — the boy is his, and his wolf agrees. So when a squalling baby girl is dropped off at his doorstep at the ungodly hour of ten in the morning, there's no one else Peter can think of to call.

Fame Is A Vapor

Author: Triangulum

Summary: Most people wouldn't assume Peter likes baseball. There are a lot of stereotypes that come with being a bisexual man in fashion, and one of them is that he must hate sports and typical 'manly' things. Such blind assumptions and gender roles are, of course, ridiculous, but he's not above using them to sneak off when his PR team gets a little too gung ho on his speaking events.He's wanted at various fashion schools and charity events, and he has the Project Runway team pestering him to guest judge again, as if he doesn't have his hands full with running Hale Fashion. It's taken years of hard work and maybe a little bit of blackmail, but he's the head of his own company, and he thinks he deserves an afternoon off.OrPeter, rich and famous fashion mogul, accidentally spills his beer on Stiles at a baseball game. Stiles has no clue who he is. That makes their first date so much better.

Rabbit Verse Series

Author: Bunnywest

Summary: Peter loves to hunt. Stiles is his (too willing )prey.

sidenote: there is literally 32 parts to this series so here is the first chpt. Run, Rabbit Run

Dahlia Emmeline Hale Series

Author: Triangulum

Part 1: Moonlight Dahlia

Summary: There, at the base of the trunk, nestled between two large roots, is a car seat and in it, a baby. Stiles and Peter both freeze, staring down in shock. The baby is asleep, bundled up tightly, a soft orange wool hat on its head and an envelope pinned to its blanket. Stiles stares at Peter incredulously, but he doesn't know what to say either. OR So it turns out Peter has a daughter.

Part 2: Halloween Traditions

Summary: Dahlia is dressed in a poufy orange pumpkin costume and Stiles thinks it's the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen. Dahlia had declared she'd wanted to be a pumpkin for Halloween and Kira had immediately made the costume for her. With her orange tights and bright green stem beret-style hat on top of her soft, brown hair, she's the best pumpkin ever. Considering she's his daughter, Stiles may be a little biased. OR Halloween with Peter, Stiles, and Dahlia.

Part 3: Peter In The Suburbs

Summary: "As much as I love seeing you in the shirt I bought you," Stiles says, nodding down the plaid button up Peter has on, "I thought I told you to stop making the neighbors cry?""He isn't crying," Peter says. "He'll probably wait until he's in the comfort of his own home to do that." OR Pointless fluff inspired by Ian's damn GMC commercial.

more top favourites

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

#teenwolf #fanfiction #fanfics #fanfic #peter hale #stiles stilinski #steter #topfavs

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thepdvblog · 6 years ago

Text

Dandelion - Chapter 2: Daffodil Bouquet

Dandelion Directory

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: She gives him a bouquet of daffodils before they drive off, telling him these are his favourite flowers and that he now needs to move on. Isn’t this the meaning of daffodils? I think you once told me that when you picked them as your symbol or something.

Notes: I should precise beforehand this story (just like all my original work) is set in an alternative France where technology and society are more advanced than their IRL counterparts. This is why Florian has access this early to hormone blockers and hormones, when this story is set in anno domini 2003 for the moment.

AO3 version available here.

Finding a name to refer to himself is a life changer. Roxanne calls him “Flo”, Juliette, who is still struggling coming to terms with this but is trying her hardest, calls him insists on “Florian” because she is still not used to it. And yet, she gives him some advice to look more masculine, basing herself off things she has seen among male soccer players: how to make his voice sound lower, how to present as confident and self-assured when he truly isn’t, somehow provides him with brand-new male clothing and underwear he could not have wished for more.

Juliette once told me, when visiting me in this hospital years later, that her mother was a cashier at a local Carrefour, and that she could easily access unsold products that way. Barely legal, but I doubt much of my early transition was condoned by most of societal conventions.

Mrs Flamand tells him, during a session where she finally realizes this has been illegal all along, that she will only give him the green light for the next step once he is an adult in the eyes of the law. This makes Florian realize a few things, starting with what legally being an adult is going to allow him to do. He will finally be able to change his name to the eye of the world, go on what seems to be a dangerous therapy, stop being himself only around Roxanne and Juliette, stop being “Catherine” around the teachers and the classmates who know he is supposed to be a girl.

Florian makes a third friend who does understand who he is, but he is an online buddy. He lives in the south of the country, kilometres upon kilometres away from Colombes, living under the Mediterranean heat, near the Rhône’s delta. Their friendship is unlikely, considering this friend is already in college, yet feels natural: Lilian is trying to understand his little sister, Florian is just trying to get his voice somewhere where he won’t be targeted by the crude remarks of people reminding him, “you looked better when you weren’t pretending to be a boy”.

Yet, anxiety remains in his veins. The more his birthday nears closer, Roxanne swearing to buy him the best she can for this important occasion, Lilian thinking of a thousand ideas for a drawn present, the worst it gets. His dysphoria is rushing him to finally take the goddamn hormones before it threatens the remainder of his mental health, so he focuses on books and flowers to pass the time until it gets better.

He remembers an old thing his eighth-grade Literature teacher said once during a class, that there are birth month flowers just like there are birthstones, albeit there is no universal version of it. Searching in the local library on a free Wednesday afternoon where he does not feel like going back “home”, he finds out his assigned flower would either be a narcissus or a daffodil. The latter resonates so much, once he looks into the symbolism behind it: new beginnings, unrequited love, respect. The daffodil quickly becomes his personal symbol, the flower he likes to draw on science lessons instead of actually listening.

It is every time he goes home from school that he remembers why there is still so much fear inside his heart. He is not afraid of the decision to start HRT: it only feels like the next step on his journey. However, he is terrified of the reactions he will get when he will have to eventually come clean about it, about the fact he is a he and not a she, about how his parents are going to disown him quicker than lightning. Considering their rampant racism and internalized classicism, there is no way they will accept their daughter to actually be a son.

Phrased like that, I almost sound like I’ve once enjoyed being born to them.

Even then, Florian presses on. He has no time to lose worrying about his parents’ reaction when he can spend said time researching where to live in case the worst happens and he gets kicked out from home. He has no real way to gain money until he is out of high school, but he still tries: he applies for holiday jobs for the Easter and summer breaks, he sells some old belongings like most of his female clothes, he still abuses of his parents’ lack of concern and constant arguing to steal a few bucks every week after school. All flats he could possibly get in at the last minute are too expensive for him to afford until his first jobs, so Roxanne finds a solution of him: he can live in an abandoned flat the owner, a man living in Calais named Norbert Leeht, has forgotten he was still paying for.

When she brings him there for the first time, he discovers why someone that guy has forgotten they he was paying for it until it was rented: it is incredibly small, just enough for one person with a ridiculously tiny bathroom and barely any other furniture than a bed that was left there years ago and a small kitchen. It is still much better than he expected to get: at least, he does not have to pay for anything not additional furniture or food.

The premise being this eerily advantageous, Florian looks more into it and into its owner. Norbert Leeht is known online for his abandoned flats people love to occupy illegally when in a pinch, flats he has forgotten he owned and had not rented, too busy counting the amounts of money he gets from villas he actually cares about. In order to receive his mail properly, he decides to make his address Roxanne’s, the easiest option he has considering this flat will never have his name on it.

Furnishing the flat is harder than he wishes it was. He needs to move most of his room’s furniture without being spotted by his parents, for which the ideal time is on Wednesday afternoons where his father is at work and where his mother is out shopping for groceries. Roxanne, Juliette and he always strike around his time and, soon enough, only the bed and a dresser he plans on replacing anyway are out of there. After a while, the flat feels more like home than his supposed house has ever done. Everything is in place for the final revelation.

On March 20th, 2003, a warm Thursday where spring is just around the corner, he decides to let his plans finally play out, hoping for the best like the young and optimistic boy he has been ever since seeing things go forward. His therapist hands him out a strange box after his session of the week. Upon opening it, he sees a small recipient and a syringe. He does not need to read the label on the former to have a smile invade his face and his eyes tear up.

“I figured you’d be mature enough to handle these by yourself, Florian,” she tells him as she looks at the box. “And since I know you’re rather shaky on your finances, I’ve paid you the first dose and the syringe with it. You told me you didn’t mind needles, right? I can provide you with pills if you do.”

His voice catches up in his throat, and even he wants to be a man and not cry, his thankfulness eventually explodes.

“I… Thank you so much, I… I don’t know what to say…”

Dr Flamand then spends some time explaining him how to inject himself, and even if his fingers are shaking around the syringe as if it could break under his touch, it feels like the best piece of news in the latest year. It is finally in his hands, the way to break away from womanhood even more, to provide his body with what he is missing: his facial hair, a lower voice, a better repartition of his body fat.

Of course, he does not go blind into hormone reassignment surgery. He has researched its symptoms, asked high-school science major Juliette if she can clear up things, eventually blesses Lilian for being a medical student in an internship. He knows he will look very… teenage-y for a while, with a lowering voice, potential skin issues, possible hair loss, a risk to get excessive body fat he does not really want. After all, he is wearing a binder to hide his chest, no need for it to get bigger. And yet, he feels more than ready for it, already eyeing the syringe in desire.

I remember being terrified of this decision, when I first found out about HRT and what it was about. I kept asking to the mirror, “What if this isn’t what I am? What’s going to happen to me?”. I have to say, I regret not having started it before, even if I know I had to be mature to handle it correctly.

Everything is set in stone in his eyes when his eighteenth birthday rolls around. It is a time of truth, his moment to come out, to tell everyone “Catherine” is dead, to welcome Florian, the one he has been all along. It is exciting, it is terrifying, like his first rush of injected testosterone, the fear of the needle and the euphoria from the hormone he has craved for years. He already thinks of all the pros and cons of coming out, having studied the matter for the past months and having talked about it with Roxanne and Juliette for days on end. He prepares himself for school, gazes into the mirror wishing for facial hair to come soon, puts on his needed outfit and heads to school, both terrified and ecstatic.

I’d define myself as a careful and prudent man, but it wasn’t the same when I was a boy. It’s difficult to see what discrimination you are about to face when it’s invisible to most people due to how rare this all is.

For the first time ever, Roxanne and Juliette call him out by his real name instead of “Cat” as they are used to around his class. They help the anxious, now tetanized boy to ask his homeroom teacher, the Literature one, if he can make an important announcement. Of course, this makes the old lady be suspicious, but she accepts nonetheless, and he mentally prepares himself to break Catherine’s shell once and for all, never to be seen again, so ready to reject her for the last time and never look back on it. Looking at his entire class, all there for once, taking his proudest stance despite the sheer terror stacking in his throat, he takes one deep breath in, one out, and stares at everyone though his clear, “enticing” irises.

I remember by heart what I said on that day, fifteen years later.

Everyone, listen. It’ll sound weird, I know, but I’ve never been a girl. I’m a boy, a boy in a girl’s body. It’s a rare case, a mental disorder if you want to call it that. Please, even if you don’t believe it…

Don’t call me Catherine.

Call me Florian.

The surprise it drops onto everyone’s shoulders is mind-blowing. Most of them stare at each other, bewildered, and the fear rises inside his chest at an alarming rate. Roxanne is not in his class, and so is Juliette, so he is all alone in a class who barely knows him anyway. Some start to laugh, others seem to remember some sex education lessons provided by Planned Parenthood during their earlier school years, or by that one Biology class from last year, and in the end he is torn between people not taking him seriously and others trying to understand. The teacher stares at him, at loss for words, so she gulps and just politely, almost quietly, tells him “please take your seat again, Ca…” and she stops herself.

Acceptance does not come easily after this announcement. The mockeries start even more, saying he is just “playing pretend” and “a tomboy who takes it too far”. The jokes are common and start almost immediately, but some classmates really show empathy and a will to understand, so it is all fine. Well, the mockery does remind him of the risks he has read about online all that time and how dysphoric they all are, but it is nothing compared to the last straw.

His parents.

For the first time in years, Florian goes up to his parents as he wants to be, rather than what they would have him rather be so they would have no more issues.

It may sound strange to the outside ears, but I was an undesired child. They were just against getting an abortion for me and too uneducated to know they could put me elsewhere, although I have to give them kudos for trying to raise me and always feeding me. I suppose routine and familial allocations helped me being more helpful than they had expected.

In fact, he almost shows it heavily on purpose, binder on, hair freshly cut by Roxanne’s sister Solange, dressed in all dark blues and men’s apparel, in a spirit of provocation and spite he did not think he had before this day and preparing it for it. His heart still tries to break out of his ribcage, smashing itself against the bones in his chest, but he keeps it together and mans up.

The reaction he gets from them as soon as he says “Mom, dad, I’m a boy” is baffling at best. They stare at him, asking him why he is saying that, how it is “just a phase” and how “he’ll see that he’s gonna know he’s a girl soon again”.

What a joke.

Florian arguments back, pulls together all the ideas and explanations he has ever done, while not even hoping to get their approval. It seems counterproductive, he knows how this is all going to play out. He has nothing to lose, so he puts between his parents and him the paper officially diagnosing him with gender dysphoria, another with all the actions he has taken to “fix” the issue. The eyes of his father shoot through his irises, rage burning in that stare, barking following.

“You’re no daughter of mine.”

“And I’m no girl,” he replies.

“Fuck off, get out of here, you fuckin’ crossdressing fuck!”

“I guessed you’d ask me to do just that.”

“Why did you tell us then?!” his mother asks him through tears he can tell are fake, the way to bribe her way out of divorce threats.

“Because I’m no dishonest man. I waited for this day for so long.”

“Fuck off.”

“Farewell.”

Taking the remainder of his bedroom’s things, Florian sets off, leaving nothing behind him but a few unsold girly clothes and a rotting flower which died before seeing spring come back. Roxanne is waiting for him outside, a warm smile and welcoming arms he still loves despite the split-up. Despite how ready he felt he was before, tears come to his eyes and he abandons himself in his best friend’s embrace.

Eighteen-year old me would have liked to know how painful being rejected by your own family can be painful, even if you know the end result isn’t going to be pretty.

Roxanne invites him to come in her car, saying she would drive him back home, putting the last of his belongings into the chest of the vehicle. She lied: minutes later, she tells him she is paying him a good dinner in a not-so-expensive restaurant, “because he deserves only good things when he’s been that brave with this”.

She gives him a bouquet of daffodils before they drive off, telling him these are his favourite flowers and that he now needs to move on. Isn’t this the meaning of daffodils? I think you once told me that when you picked them as your symbol or something.

“Thank you so much” escapes in a sob from his mouth before he takes off his glasses and wipes them with his arms. To all the preparation he has made for this day, and to all the better days to come.

#DCMC #RC #florian moinot #roxanne roturier #juliette soissons #dandelion

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twobitchesinheat · 8 years ago

Text

Dear Son

Dear Jake,

Mentally preparing to write this note to you has caused me panic and anxiety, but most of all, guilt. Always guilt. Dredging up sentiments of feeling terrorized by my own son is disheartening. Writing to you scares me, as I am full of fear, driven by it. It frightens me to admit to myself that I often hate you. I try to make sense of it, hating my own child, but it’s irrational, and there is no explanation for this impossible, un-mother-like emotion I feel toward you. I struggle with shame and embarrassment that I can’t keep my own offspring “under control”. I often desperately want you, this little jerk standing in front of me throwing yet another “tantrum”, to go as far away from me as possible, and in that moment when I feel so helpless, I want to cause you harm. I have imagined hitting you so hard with the back of my hand, the impact sending you flying across the room. That will stop him, that will break the tantrum, set him free, bring him back to himself. You have Bipolar Disorder. You terrible, awful, wonderful, loving, thoughtful, crazy, angry, beautiful little person.

I have grown a resentment toward you, we all have, and that is an uncomfortable feeling, an itch you can’t scratch. Every moment you are awake, presents itself with the possibility you may torment us. Every second of our day is dictated by your reactions to seemingly ordinary routines, which, if interrupted by the word No, might erupt into a two hour rage. I tense up, shoulders at my ears, when I have to give you instruction, say No, ask you to stop doing something, or ask you to perform a chore. The thought of having an interaction with you, any interaction, causes me to become nervous, as if I have just inhaled a puff of smoke. I have to prepare to have a simple conversation with you, my own son, anticipate possible outcomes and how I will manage if I am unsuccessful, all while pressure is rising in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

I needed a label for these recurring episodes, so I settled for “tantrum”. It always begins the same, something is not going your way, and it ensues. If you are finished in less than an hour, we call that a good day. Often your tantrums last two hours, and we, your cohabitants, are left to fend for ourselves, clambering about the house or yard seeking some mode of escape, searching for solace, mutely bargaining with our brains to focus on something else, anything else. You begin with yelling, the same phrase over and over, akin to a broken record, as if you are locked in a state of mind which is set to repeat. You follow me, stepping on my feet and jumping in my path as I try to ignore your tantrum, believing truly that if I don’t give it attention, it will stop, because, isn’t that what we are taught as parents to do? Ignore the bad and praise the good? You throw things, slam doors, push and pull on me, or whoever is trying to help you calm down. But there is nothing anyone can do to stop this tantrum, this rage, once it starts. It is a beast in motion that consumes you, takes over your body, and has a very slim vocabulary. It has a start and a finish, and cannot be interrupted. I always know when it’s finally over, because you abruptly quiet down, and after succumbing to staying in your room for the remainder of the tantrum, you emerge with a fresh attitude. And here is the part I don’t understand, the element of this disease that terrifies me, wakes me up in the middle of the night, my mind racing: You are over it. Like a lion from a cage, the tantrum has left you, and the demeanor that follows is pleasant, in fact, your most pleasant and lovely self. I wonder, is this some sort of chemical build-up, release, and recovery? Is this a “normal” cycle for a young man suffering from Bipolar Disorder? You, my sweet boy, have now gone full circle with your tantrum, and we are left recuperating from the tornado which has passed. This cruel thing that has just overcome you leaves a wake in which we are all drowning, but you are just fine.

I told my friends and family, I told the doctors, the therapists, I told my husband, I will never put you on medication. I will never purposely alter your true identity, your purest existence as an innocent little boy, a growing young man, by confusing your hormones and your mind with medication. But I have done just that. You are ten years old, and I have decided you need help that I cannot give you with my words or my love and affection. I cannot fight with you anymore, argue, negotiate, cry, hide, close doors on you, or wait it out. I am depleted. Do you remember the ride to school when you were having a tantrum? You were kicking my dashboard and the side of the door, you were screaming and crying, repeating your rants, whatever they were. You were angry because I asked you to put on your shoes. Your little brother sat in the back seat, and when I peeked behind my seat to see how he was handling the tantrum, I noticed a tear on his cheek. He was looking out the window in silence, as he always does in the car when you have a tantrum. When we arrived to campus, you were still in a rage, so I made what seems like a spiteful decision and rolled down your window, then locked the control. As we inched along through the school parking lot, you were swiftly compelled to tone yourself down. It seems impossible I didn’t have this revelation until then, but I understand now that you save these tantrums for me, and only me.

Son, since you were three, I have taken you to therapists, specialists, group parenting classes, ADHD testing, parent-child-interaction therapy, all because I knew this was somehow my fault, there was something you needed that I was not providing. I thought, I must be his trigger. The morning you threw that tantrum, we parked and you bolted from the car, your brother and I ambling along behind you, following through the fog of lunacy you seemed to be emitting. You stomped ahead, trying to put distance between us. Your brother trailed closely behind me, waiting for some indication of how he should be feeling. After walking your brother to class, kissing him goodbye, and offering a comforting hug, I came to find you sitting on a bench outside the cafeteria. You said Hi, and I began to cry. Blubbering sobs, nose running, tears spilling out between my fingers. You asked me what was wrong, you seemed bewildered, concerned, maybe a little embarrassed. I took a deep breath, put my arm around your shoulder, and said, “Have a great day, buddy. I love you.” Then I called the doctor who had told me four months ago you have Bipolar disorder, and told him I was ready.

I felt intense relief when I accepted the diagnosis and picked up the first batch of little blue pills from the pharmacy. I could inhale, a long deep breath of fresh air, and exhale the finality of this, cough out the end of an era. A new boy was about to emerge. With each blue pill you took, every day, a layer of that exterior monster who ambushes you and holds you hostage would be peeled away, ultimately revealing you, the raw, fantastic young man who none of has had the pleasure of loving enough. At last you would be able to make some friends, and harvest lasting relationships with classmates. Your tics and twitches might dissipate, and you would be more focused and engaged in class. Our home life would improve, and you would feel free of the sadness and anger that seems to consume you.

I predicted a transformation in you, an alleviation from this dense cloud that hovers and follows us everywhere we go. I guess that was hope, but with this illness, hope and expectation are persecution. You have been medicated for six months now, and for the most part, the tantrums have stopped. You have had a handful, but where there is often violence that accompanies the tantrum, you have refrained. You are much easier to approach now, I don’t feel afraid to ask something of you. But Jake, you are still you, you have not changed one bit. The blue pills chipped away at the monster who held you captive, revealing the young man who was there all along. You. Not a new boy who can make and keep friends, work harder in class or at sports, or hold still when you’re attacked by a series of tics. You are still you, it is me who has changed.

I am not afraid of you anymore. The looming threat of a conflict or tantrum has faded from our daily lives. Although we still have difficult moments, this makes room in our lives for healing and mending bonds which have long been broken. To assume life will continue this way is naive. I have only just discovered you have this disease. Going forward, as you become a teenager, and then a man, a husband, a father, your life may be difficult, impossible at times. I fear the worst but pray for you to be content. I pray you will not alter or quit your medication as often happens, from what I have read. But again, to forsee the future, to expect, hope, worry, is to torture myself. I can only stay in today, this moment, with you, my first boy. I can only remind you of how special you are. You have an incredible gift with animals, you are always the first at someone’s side if they are hurt, you open doors for people, you are thoughtful, generous, and incredibly smart. Most importantly, Jake, you forgive me my weaknesses in struggling with your moods. You allow me to navigate through this storm with you. You always come back to me and let me hold you, and for that reason, you are my hero.

I love you always. Mom.

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