#an after where those left can live and learn and grow

[hoarding-stories]

Going wild about how each chapter shows a different facet of horror

The circle of Vassal and Veil: horror in the environment.

A classical look at things, there are forces in this world beyond your understanding, they will chew you up and spit you out. See them, know them, survive them, adapt to them.

The circle of Needle and Thread: horror in humanity

Really powerfully done, a showing in how people can be horrifying, do horrible things to each other with the most human of reasons. Nothing beyond our ken is necessary for true horror to take place.

The circle of Tide and Bone: horror in the self

Rather complex and with a sprinkling of cosmic flavoring there but, where did you start? Where will you end? It is always a rough road and how will you change, be changed? What will you lose, what will you give up? What parts of yourself are worth the losing if it means you get a step closer to what you want, what you need. Who are you, if not for the people and things you care about, what happens to you when they're gone, how far will you go in their absence? Will you look back and see the person you were as someone entirely different, something in you twisted, lost? Will it have been worth it? The horror in change and the fact that you cannot go backwards to the way things once were.

Cannot wait to see what the Circle of the Crimson Mirror has to offer

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I promised you some lions! Let's talk about manes, males, and management.

This is Tandie, the current male lion at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Notice anything odd about him? He's got one of those hilarious awkward teenager manes. Except... this cat is nine years old.

I was, of course, immediately curious.

Manes serve a lot of purposes for male lions, including being an indicator of health and fitness - it's actually a sexually selected trait and a social signal. Mane texture / hair quality / length is dependent on nutrition and the body having energy to grow (and carry around!) that much hair! The color is also a signal: males with darker manes have been found to have higher testosterone levels.

In one research report, wild males were much more likely to avoid a lion decoy when it had a longer or darker mane - but the girls really loved a dark mane. It's thought this is because a long, dark mane is an indicator of mate quality. Males with longer, darker manes have higher testosterone and were pretty healthy: meaning they had more energy for fighting, had a better chance of recovering if they got injured, and generally had a higher rate of offspring survival. Manes matter!

So, back to Tandie. He was actually born at the Woodland Park Zoo in 2014 alongside two brothers, to dad Xerxes and mother Adia.

This was Xerxes (rip).

Obviously, a very large, dark, lush mane on Xerxes here. So where did these blond muttonchops come from on his son?

I asked the zoo docents and got an answer that didn't make a lot of sense. They told me that after the three cubs grew into adolescents, they were moved to the Oakland Zoo together. But living together suppressed his testosterone, and he never grew a mane.

Hmmmm.

Here's a photo from 2016, when the brothers debuted at Oakland. They're a year and a half old in this photo.

(Photo Credit: Oakland Zoo)

And here's from an announcement for their third birthday.

(Photo credit: Oakland Zoo)

Okay, so these dudes obviously all were growing manes as of 2017. I think Tandie is the one on the left in the first photo, and laying down in the middle on the second. What happened?

I was just in the Bay Area for a zoo road trip, of course I went to Oakland and tracked down a docent to ask some questions.

It turns out that shortly after the brothers turned three, they started acting like adult male lions: they started scuffling regularly. It's a normal social thing for male lions to live in groups, called coalitions, but according to my lion experts there's generally a baseline level of some social jostling within them. It wasn't quite clear from what the docent said if they couldn't manage the boys together, or if they just wanted to avoid the scratches and small wounds that result from normal lion behavior. Regardless, they put all three of the boys on testosterone blockers in order to be able to keep them together as a social group.

Now, I don't know a lot about the use of hormone alteration as a form of captive animal management, except in the case of birth control. I don't think it's something that's unethical - there was just a webinar on it that I saw go by - but I don't think it's commonly done with big cats. Lions have kind of complicated reproductive cycles, and for instance, we've been learning that female lions can take much longer to come into estrus again than expected after coming off hormonal birth control.

In males, testosterone blockers (or being neutered) means they lose their manes. This is why a lot of rescues will do a vasectomy on their males instead of a neuter - it allows them to keep their mane and the social signals that accompany it.

Tandie returned home to Woodland Park Zoo after Xerxes passed in early 2022, and the docent told me all of the lions had been off their blockers "for while." I'd guess those things happened around the same time, since bringing the trio down to a duo at Oakland would reduce some of the social tensions.

Hormones are such interesting things, though. One of Tandie's brothers has a full mane again, and the other is still totally mane-less.

As for Tandie, his mane is growing back in, and it looks like he might rival his dad for length and coloration.

He started here, in February:

Yesterday:

What a difference four months (and maybe proximity to a girl) makes!

[giamee]

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ DO YOU WANT SOMEBODY LIKE I WANT SOMEBODY?

ಇ roommate!jing yuan, roommate!sampo, roommate!gepard x reader ︴wordcount :: 1.7k ︴contains :: nothing crazy, sampo with tattoos, in gepard's part reader drinks wine like a White Woman TM ︴part one ︴requested by @elsy34 @sydneyy-l @fairiesdobesparklin @w9vyy

ఌ︎. | JING YUAN

you've quickly come to realise that your roommate is a workaholic

his punctuality, his strict regime of getting up at 6 and coming back at 6 seems to be the only constant in your life

the little mumbled apologies to inanimate objects as his too-large frame squeezes into your dingy shared bathroom causes you to roll over in your bed, a little smile growing at his sweet antics

then after about the 20 minutes it took him to shower and get ready, as well as fix himself - and you, you've noticed recently- breakfast before he's out the door as quietly as he can manage

then you're out of bed a bit after he leaves, yawning idly as you make your way out of your room, smiling fondly at the intricarely prepared fruit and yoghurt bowl that jing yuan had left you, along with a little smily face drawn on a post-it note

you eat it slowly, savouring the taste of it as you slowly wake up, before naking your way into the bathroom to freshen up

it's warm from the shower jing yuan had taken earlier, and the combination of his products and cologne that he had also sprayed almost envelopes you in a hug as you brush your teeth, your eyes noticing the little doodles left by the steam on the mirror

"out of milk" - :( is what jing yuan had decided to write this time, along with his attempt of a drawing of a milk carton

you giggle at the wonkiness of it, making a mental note to add it to the shopping list later

and you do your own little routine too, leaving a little later than him and coming back a little sooner on account of the fact that your job was a lot closer to your apartment than his was

and this next part- when the work day was over- was your most favourite part of the shared little routine that had been forged over the weeks you've spent living with jing yuan

you hear the key turn in the lock as your roommate lets himself in, a teasing "honey, i'm home" accompanying the slight shuffle of him taking off his coat and shoes

you cast him a wave from what you're doing tonight - this time, it's your turn to cook dinner - and you turn your attention back to the stove as you hear jing yuan pad over to you , peering over your shoulder and humming in approval at the choice of food

that brief closeness in proximity tantalised you with the same warmth and smells of his cologne that had been so comforting in the morning, and you felt some of your own stress melt away as you kept stirring the contents of the pan

and in this pseudo domesticity, you found comfort in your roommate, as he began to set the table for just the two of you

ఌ︎. | SAMPO

where to start with him omg

you don't know what to think when you first move in

he seems so scary with his hair and his tattoos and his cigarettes

but he's sweet, too, and his face lights up a little every time he manages to make you laugh

and hey, maybe he wouldn't be too bad as a roommate

after he figured out that you aren't a smoker yourself, he makes sure to always smoke either before he came back to your shared space, or out on the balcony far away from you

"those things will kill you, y'know"

your protest is lighthearted, and sampo smirks as he brings his lighter to the end of the cig dangling from his lips

"it's not like i'm gonna live forever"

it was the little things, after all

and little by little, your differing lifestyles began to integrate

you come to learn that sampo had a knack for remembering the details

you had been called to cover a coworker's shift at the last minute, one that would end a lot later than you're accustomed to

and since you took the bus to and from work, you were really not looking forward to taking it on the way back, when it would be pitch black outside with mostly drunkards to keep you company on it

and that dreadful thought had been put off for the time being

but with your shift drawing to a close, you stop your work momentarily to check what the buzz from your phone was

hey

i'm outside

come out when you're ready

-sampo

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion

you had told sampo when you would get off work, but you definitely hadn't asked him to pick you up after it had ended

but you were never one to turn down such an offer

you finished closing up, before leaving the building

you spotted a couple cars left parked on the side of the road, though all were empty with the headlights off

you clutched your phone, about to text sampo and ask exactly where he was l, before you heard a shout of your name from somewhere to your left that had you spinning on your heel

and you didn't know what to expect when sampo said he was here to pick you up, but it certainly wasn't this

you approached sampo, eyeing the motorbike that he was leaned against dubiously, mentally cursing yourself for assuming that he would drive a car, because of course sampo just had to do something more dangerous than that

sampo straightened up as you drew close, smiling and handing you a spare helmet, laughing at the uncertainty on your face

"if you hold on to me, you'll be fine, c'mon"

ఌ︎. | GEPARD (PT. 2)

it was hard to tell where you and gepard stood right now, ever since that night

on the one hand, you were still friendly around each other, and nothing had really changed behaviour-wise in either of you

yet on the other, your brain was constantly plaguing you with the memories of how his fingers had felt against your thighs, fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp as he melted against you

it wasn't technically romantic, but it sure as hell had felt like it

and maybe it was just the wine that you had been drinking that night, but there's certain moments where you catch a certain hungered look in his eyes that makes you think that maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same inner turmoil that you were

but life goes on

work was getting busier for gepard, and much to your chagrin you were seeing less and less of him

maybe that was for the best, to give you the space and time to get over the silly little crush that you had on your roommate

"but you don't want to," that little pesky voice in the back of your head whispered to you

you shook your head a little violently to clear it, deciding that a distraction was in order

you had an unopened bottle of wine and a new series to binge screaming your name right now

and so you settle on your couch, putting on the show, letting yourself sigh into the cushions and welcoming the little headache that would ensue after you finish your first couple glasses

you noticed, with some amusement, that this was basically the position that you were in when gepard had laid on your thighs

these thoughts would be harder to avoid than you realise

you managed to immerse yourself into the show somewhat, too engrossed to hear the front door open, much like how it had happened that night

but your attention is transfixed to the screen, not to the sight of gepard as he walks in, yawning and practically making a beeline to where you sat on the couch

and then you realised he was there, when the cushions dipped underneath his weight, his arms thrown against the back of the sofa, one resting behind you

there's a pang of ... disappointment? that you feel when you realise that he hadn't sat in front of you once again, but you push that aside, scanning your roommate's face ij concern

he looks paler than usual, deep eyebags underneath his dulled eyes, and a glance at the time has you double taking as you see that it's past eleven

"your overtime pay must be through the roof," you try to joke, and you get the feeling that the half smile gepard responds with is the most that he can muster right now

and again, like there is some other being urging you to do so, you find yourself acting without thinking about consequences or what it might imply

"do you want a massage?"

gepard doesn't even have the energy to look surprised, merely nodding

you motion for him to lie flat on the couch, and he does so a little too quickly, not giving your tipsy self enough time to stand up before his head falls onto your thighs

oh, you think

he looks really pretty like this

his feet are dangling a little off the end due to his too-tall stature meeting the too-small couch, but you do your best to make him otherwise comfortable

he's on his front, arms now snaking their way around your hips and legs like he's done this so many tines before, and you could have sworn that the man even nuzzled his cheek against your soft skin before lying still

your hands hover for a second, unsure of how exactly to start and not expecting it to even get this far, butterflies in your stomach be damned

your fingers gingerly meet the junction where his neck joins his shoulder, immediately prodding a knot of tension

you do your best to rub circles into his skin, feeling out the muscle underneath to target

you were no professional, but the way that gepard was sighing contentedly from your touch made you think that you were doing something right

it was a few minutes of this silence, his breaths beginnign to even as you wirked your way down his back, doing the best that you could over the material of his shirt stretched thin across his back

the slight loll of his head alerted you that he was asleep, along with the softest puffs of air from his mouth that blew against your thigh

you continued for a bit more, wanting to do your best to get the knots out, before you felt the tug of sleep at yourself as well

the rhythm of gepard's breathing was constant and soothing, and you dismissed the worries of what to do about you and him and this predicament tomorrow- when you both wake up on the couch

gia's notes :: much anticipated continuation of the roommate hsr series yippeee ^_^ gepard is back 💯💯 also i only realised like... near the end of jing yuan's part that his ass is NOT a workaholic but... whats done is done ig 😔 shoutout to me not having played the 2.0 update yet,, or the game at all recently tbh ,,,

-‘๑’- honkai star rail masterlist

[azullumi]

“there’s so many fishes in the sea but i never learned how to swim” ; aventurine

summary — a guide to pining presented by yours truly, aventurine.

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, secret pining but like aventurine can be too obvious, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

tagging — @toorurs (sorry boo i forgot to tag 😭)

note — i know i could have done better with this one, my brain wasn’t just working and im also on a trip. this is day 6 and 7 of writing for him until i get him !!

Aventurine yearns for connection yet he erects tall walls of self-preservation, fearing vulnerability, attachment, and betrayals (the shadow of his fear of losing someone dear to him all over again will haunt and follow his steps). He’s always distant, seemingly detached to the people around him like a leaf that never touches the ground as the wind carries it away; his only drive for relationships is due to mutual-benefit or a give-and-take situation. So what happens to him when he falls and yearns for someone?

Love is violence, he knows that but his eyes would stumble after your shadow and he wonders what it feels like to live in it. He’ll lie under your gaze and he’ll dream what it feels like to be seen, what it feels like to be loved by you. He will seek ways to be close to you but not close enough that you’ll know the rhythm of his heart spells out the letters of your name. In each moment of longing, it is all tinged with a taste of bitterness as this yearning, though desired, is a precarious precipice—everything will crumble and fall once he speaks about it.

So he settles with stolen looks with wishful thinking that you’ll cast a glance at his direction, he settles with the small things at first before he begins to become selfish—he’ll make up reasons just to see and talk to you, think of excuses just so he could linger a little longer in your presence. He’ll make up games and initiates bets where he knows he’ll always win but would let himself lose anyways; winning or losing didn’t matter to him in those moments with you.

“Go ahead, guess.”

You fell into a deep thought, staring at the two hands balled into fist that are in front of you. Your eyebrows were scrunched, trying to listen to the voice of your instinct but everything was silent inside your head.

“Take your time. After all, whoever loses has to follow what the winner wants.” Aventurine spoke and you could discern the hint of amusement in his tone as he watched you fall into some sort of predicament—all you had to do was to choose which one of his hands was the coin in. It was just one of the simple games you’ll play with him every time you see each other. Come to think of it, his visits to your department have been quite frequent despite having no particular business, official or not.

“Shh. I’m thinking.” You answer, lifting your index finger to your mouth in a hush gesture. It took you a few moments of silence and thoughtful humming before you pointed at his left hand, “That one.”

But he opens his left hand to show nothing on his palm, his right hand revealing the coin at the same time, and you are hit with a wave of disappointment. A chuckle slips past his lips and you just sighed—there was nothing you could do but to admit defeat. “Well then, what do you want me to do?”

Aventurine, without a single second of hesitation, answered. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

The thing is you could have laid yourself bare to him, you could tell him all of the sins that taint your skin, the words left unspoken in your mouth, the growing mold in your lungs. He’ll see the rot and will choose to stay, he’ll see the cobwebs and dusty bookshelves, and he’ll love you still, he’ll see the torn wallpapers and ruined floors and he’ll still adore you (he’ll find you where you are most ruined and he will love you there).

(His hand would gently tug and hold at the cuffs of your sleeves, letting the warmth and closeness of his touch linger in hopes that you’ll see him in the sun that holds you gently.)

Many people claim that they love you but do they adore you the same way as he does? Would they cross bridges for you when he’ll swim oceans just to see the way your eyes catch the light? Would they traverse the stars just to listen to the sound of your laughter? 

(He’ll see the dirt in your hands and will help you wash it off when others would simply walk away.)

He’ll think of you as he laid in his bed, satin sheets all wrinkled and messy as his pillows scattered around his form, and he wondered how nice it would be to have your things among his. to have the smell of your perfume mixed with his, to have you in his arms before he sleeps (he has dreams of his dreams and you’re always in it).

All this yearning, longing, and adoration will turn into a sword that will make him bleed the more he holds on to it and you’ll stay in his thoughts as the blood will run dry on his being. He simply hopes he crosses your mind once in a while so that he won’t feel pathetic for thinking of you all the time.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[livwritesstuff]

Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school. 

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah). 

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it. 

He would have known. 

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page. 

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book. 

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that. 

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it). 

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older. 

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him. 

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white. 

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.  

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect. 

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

[catelyngrant]

So I'm thinking about the Fourteenth Doctor, and the bi-generation, and how he may have come to an end. What happened to him after those years he spent with Donna and her family, and with so many other friends on Earth (oh, I am headcanon-ing, friends), existing day-to-day and beginning to heal? After he learned how to let himself be loved, and shown compassion, and forgiven—and, eventually, learned to love, forgive, and care for himself? What happened when, at the end of this journey, his regeneration energy (I assume?) traveled back (in some hand-wavey fashion) to become the Fifteenth Doctor, who is born out of that love and forgiveness and compassion and is ready to move forward in the universe?

Fourteen becomes Fifteen—but what about the TARDIS?

Fourteen's TARDIS was created for the same reason Fourteen was: they needed to slow down, to be gentle. They needed to find a home that wasn't moving at the speed of light. So maybe this TARDIS is a little gentler, too. Maybe she's a little more careful of herself and her charges.

When Fourteen takes Rose to Mars, they land right where they're supposed to, and Rose sees wonders. Nothing bad happens, and they return home five minutes after they left.

When Shaun wants to see a football match from 1988, he opens the TARDIS door and she takes him right there, flying all by herself, to Fourteen's chagrin.

When Fourteen takes Mel to New York, they have adventures that don't involve running, or hiding, or screaming with anything but laughter. When Fourteen takes Jo, Ace, and Tegan to the Jurassic era, the only danger he faces is when he makes an age joke.

When, after Sarah Jane dies (yeeeears in the future, tyvm), Fourteen takes Luke, Maria, Clyde, and Rani to see Florana—the place he promised to take Sarah Jane all those years ago—the TARDIS chooses the safest, most beautiful moment in time for them to honor her memory.

When Donna and Martha and Yaz and Shirley sneak in for a joyride, they have the time of their lives, and the TARDIS covers for them. (Fourteen suspects, but can't prove it.)

When Fourteen is struggling, and chafing at life on Earth, and just needs to run, to fix things, to solve puzzles, to get away from the day-to-day of it all, the TARDIS lets him. She takes him so many places he's never been before, and they're all beautiful and wild and remind him what he loves about the universe.

(He tries, a few times, to go places that might bring him pain, and she gently refuses.)

And every now and then, someone will try to get in. This TARDIS doesn't have a key; she just opens to those in her care, and refuses entry to those she doesn't trust. She is safe, and so are they.

When Donna's in her eighties and can't get around as easily, the TARDIS takes her where she can manage. When Rose is overwhelmed with the pain of the world, the TARDIS takes her to places where none of that pain exists, and lets her stay as long as she needs to.

They live magnificent lives, and the TARDIS takes care of them. And then, at the end of it, Fourteen is ready for what comes next, and he becomes Fifteen. There's only one Doctor again.

But this TARDIS...

I think she stays, right in the corner of that yard. She leaves and then lands so precisely that roots and ivy grow over her. The Doctor is gone, and eventually Mel and Sarah Jane and Jo and Donna and Martha and everyone that traveled with the Doctor once upon a time in a different TARDIS are gone too.

But Rose is still there. Luke, Maria, Rani, and Clyde are still there. Their families, their kids. The TARDIS opens to them, and shows them the universe. She takes them only where she chooses to, and it's always exactly where they need to go.

She always takes them home, to the garden that once belonged to Donna Noble.

The Doctor finds new companions. Some of them come home to Earth after awhile, but they're not stuck dreaming of the universe. You showed me the furthest reaches of the galaxy, Sarah Jane said. You showed me supernovas, intergalactic battles, and then you just dropped me back on Earth. How could anything compare to that? We get a taste of that splendor, but then we have to go back.

These new companions, they return to Earth and their lives there, but every now and then, they swing by that old house that the Noble family has lived in for generations. They say hello to this old/new box, and she invites them in.

They don't have to say goodbye to the universe. She's right there in Chiswick, waiting for them.

And sometimes—on rare occasions, when they need it, or when he (or she, or they) does—she takes them to the Doctor.

[iifoundjoy]

BEAR WITH ME.

warning: spoilers for ep 75

i was just scrolling through tiktok and then the thought occurred to me that everyone grew up together (minus ben and aiden) and basically never interacted until the group project. yeah, duh, that's the whole premise of their strange group at first, but it just strikes a cord to think that these kids who have become so inseparable were so close to each other this whole time without even knowing it, without even knowing that they needed each other.

because why now, after all these years, would they? after all, they were just strangers who occasionally saw each other in the hall or during class, strangers that they could never understand, right? they were just too different.

i mean, just think about how taylor says she's always noticed ashlyn since they were kids and how she was always on her own. she didnt understand how ash could be content with that, isn't it lonely?

tyler is most likely, lets face it, pretty popular. when we're introduced to him and taylor they're in this huge group of typical jocks due to tyler being on the baseball team. ashlyn and logan must've known him before due to that, seen them parading through the halls. and seeing as how neither logan nor ash like loud noises or crowds very much they probably wrote him off as a loud jock and went about their day. maybe saw how cold and angry he was with everyone but his sister and thought he must be unpleasant to be around.

as for logan, he, like ash, is pretty obviously very much a background character in everyone else's lives. most likely a loner just like ashlyn, very shy. if the rest of the gang ever noticed him it was probably nothing more than a glance. because logan at the time was nothing more than barrons stereotypical nerd that does his homework because he's scared of what will happen if he doesn't.

it just makes me ILL that these people who would grow to care so much about each other were all so close without knowing it, hell, they probably passed each other in their towns grocery store multiple times before. maybe seen tyler play in one of his games with taylor yelling above everyone else because that's her brother, saw ashlyn perform and dance, saw logan reading in the astronomy section in the library.

and yet they didn't know they'd ever learn to trust these strangers with their lives every night. that they would learn that tyler is more than just a loud, angry jock. he loves and cares about his sister, took up being basically a parent from a very young age, and doesn't truly have any friends because they are just a distraction.

that taylor is every bit as friendly as she let's others believe, but if you mess with her brother or her friends that sun can cloud over so quick.

that ashlyn likes to be alone but given the time and patience, she would love to be alone with you. that she doesn't want to, but if she's needed, she will step up and be the leader you need. sure, she isn't good at "friends" and she'll make mistakes, but she owns up to them because she tries and she cares.

and finally, logan, who at first is so shy and unsure, yet is quick-witted and brave enough to make hard choices and learn where he fits in with a group. to stand up against someone who bullied him and threatened him daily and help someone else from going down the same path he did.

AND PLEASE don't even get me started on ben and aiden.

those two have been practically alone their whole lives until they met each other. all aiden had was the dark room that reeked of molding food and people he hung around just to pass the time because he knew they weren't permanent, nothing ever was with his parents.

and ben's only friend before aiden being the music he could create before it was taken away from him, and all he had left was the broken melodies that he tried to find in every punch he threw.

they were both so, so alone and seeking something that would stay, something that would last because everything else that made them happy seemed to fall just out of reach now.

but just one move away, one final move to a small town in georgia held everything that could hurt and heal them all in one. they were all what everyone needed, even if they didn't know it and it drives me insane that if these kids hadn't been put through hell, they never would have found each other.

and they're more than willing to claw their way out together, not because they have to to survive, but because they want to so that they can live.

red what have you dooone 😭/pos

[scar-lie]

No One's Savior [Natasha]

Summary : Life is cruel, God gives you the life you wonder if you deserve, a life were you have no one and have to stand up by your own feet

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Being tortured, blood, death, crying

World Count : 2,777

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Please, Nat, let's go play around,” you beg her while following her down the stairs. Their mom adopted you a year ago, seeing you in the street trying to make amends to feed yourself and survive another day in the street.

“Your mom said we could play or bike around, please? ”You give her puppy eyes that you know she can't say no to.

"Fine, fine,” she groans, but you jump on happiness and quickly drag her to the garage to get yours and her bike around the neighborhood.

You smile while biking side by side; you never imagine your life will be like this. I mean, you grow up on the street with no one, stealing people’s food, money, clothes, or anything else you can use to exchange for some money.

You were 6 years old when you learned how to steal things, but when you reach the age of 9, you steal something from Melina, but she catches you. She's hesitant at first to get you arrested or put you in the system, but you beg her to let you go, and that's when she decided to adopt you right there and then, and now it's been a year since that day.

Sure, you try to run away after a few days of staying with them, but after a few days away from them, you realize that it's much better to live with them and their strict rules, and you push yourself to adapt to their lifestyle. 

At first, Melina's daughters disagree, but with the command of their father, they don't have a choice but to accept it, so they try to get to know you until they accept you and become friends with them.

Even though Melina didn't get the papers for you to be their legal daughter by law, they still treat you like family, and you're happy to be a part of their family.

But Yelena’s sister, Natalia, is the one who makes you stay with them; she's kind, caring, and looking out for you, even if she tries to hide it.

She also catches your eyes, which makes you want to look at those emerald eyes forever. It's mesmerizing you where you sometimes zone out.

But the happy life quickly washed away when Melina and Alexei took the three of you to the Red Room. You thought it would be fine, but once they took you away, you knew that the happy life you had was now over.

“I don't want to be here, Nat,” you whisper, whimpering in the middle of the night, where only you and Nat are awake. Yelena, beside your bed, is sound asleep.

“It's ok, shh,” Nat whispers to you and reaches out to touch your face and wipe your tears. She wants to hug you and cradle you, but the handcuffs on her right hand are preventing her from doing it.

“We will get out, I promise. I’ll get you out of here. Now stop crying,” she whispered, and you nodded and made yourself comfortable.

“Promise? ”She nodded, smiling at you while she squeezed your hand.

“I promise,” she whispers, then kisses the back of your hand.

You sigh in relief, finding a safe place and comfort in the Red Room after everything you've been through for over 9 years. She still provides you comfort and a safe place, and you already fall for her, and so does she. Even though she won't admit it, she still loves you deep inside.

As long as she's here with you, you'll be okay at the end of the day. Even if your foot will bleed again from ballet, you killed someone, or they give you a punishment, you know you will be okay, and you've been holding on to Nat’s promise over the years that someday you three will be free.

But again, you should have learned the first time that not everything will stay the way it is and that promises—as someone says—are meant to be broken, and they are right.

Promise really meant to be broken, like how Natalia broke hers, how she just left you behind those bars, locked up, begging her to let you come with her.

"Natalia, please don't…don't leave me here.” You begged her when she turned around to leave this place and start her new life.

"Nat, please, I don't want to be here anymore. Please let me come with you, please.” You cry out for her, so she turns around again and puts her hands on your cheeks while she tries not to cry like you, and she smiles at you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise... I will be back, ok? ”She whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“No, no, please, Nat.” You grip her wrist, not letting her go, but she forces herself to get her wrist back and turns around.

“NAT NO…PLEASE….YOU PROMISED…NATALIA,” you scream, bagging the metal bars and watching her walk away from your sight until she's gone, so you drop on your knees and cry to yourself.

You just wish that you didn't make a little mistake on your ballet so you wouldn't be here in this cell alone, that maybe you're now with Natasha getting out of here.

But you still hold on to another promise, the promise she didn't—again—fulfill, and you're so stupid to believe that she will come back for you.

If you have a thought past in the RedRoom, now your life in there is hell. Since Natalia escaped, they put more security, they doubled the training, and you—your life has become hell.

Why? Since she escaped, you've become the target of everyone. When you were sleeping, they tried to suffocate you. Since the handcuffs are now gone, they can do whatever they want.

They even beat you up, and for the high staff of the Red Room, gosh, they also give you a hard time. They believe that you know the whereabouts of Natalia, so they tortured you.

Drown you, beat you up, hand you up with your hands tied up on your back, and do everything they can to break you, but since you didn't say anything, they turned you into one of the greatest black widows on your program.

And since then, you hate Natalia; you blame her for everything that had happened to you, so you become, though, a cold-hearted person and a killer machine. Dreykov wants

“Uhuh…you're ready! ”He smirked, standing on his chair behind his long table, where you were standing in front of him, emotionless. 

“You've become the greatest widow I can imagine! ”He then lights up his tobacco and goes around his table and to your back, whispering in your ear.

“One of my pride and joy,” he giggled to himself, then went in front of you and sat on his table. 

“What do you think about a mission—a highly top mission, huh? ”He then took a folder, looking inside to see if it's the file he's talking about.

“I’m gladly accepting whatever mission needs to be done, sir,” you said in monotone, so he gave you the folder, and you took it.

“That's what I wanted about you; no second guessing,” he says, smirking and urging you to open up and take a look at the mission he's given you.

When you read what it is, your heart stops for a few seconds, a feeling you didn't know you would be feeling again, but thanks to the training you had, you cover it up pretty well, and then you close the folder and look at Dreykov.

“I will not let you down, sir.” 

“That's what I wanted to do here; no, go and prepare.” With that, you get out of his office and go get the things you need for the mission, to kill Natalia.

“Update to everybody? ”Steve said on the coms while he brought down four guards of the Red Room.

“Clint, east wing”

“Tony, east sky.”

“Thor, at the Helipad.”

“Lower ground in the north, Wanda.”

“Top south, Clint.”

Everybody took their update, but Nat and Steve's hearing nothing makes him worried about the redhead—not that he didn't trust her and her abilities, but still, that's his teammates in the field, fighting. 

“Nat, update? ”He reminded her, and after a few minutes, she replied.

"Underground.” Then Steve nodded to himself and went back to fighting the enemy.

“Augh! ”Natasha then coughs up the dust when she tries to open the locked gate of one of the cells in the underground. 

“I think there's no one here,” she mumbles to herself, and when she turns around and walks a few steps to go back up, there's a sound, coming to the end of the hallway, a cough. It's not audible since she's far from the source, but she's a spy, and her senses are highly activated every time.

So she quickly took her gun out, pointed to the hallway in case someone suddenly jumped on her, and slowly and carefully walked towards the sound.

Then she pointed her gun inside when she finally got to the last cell at the end of the hallway, seeing a woman tied up in the chair, blood and deep, superficial wounds littering all over her body.

She quickly put her gun down and slowly but surely walked closer, but once she's close enough to see her body up close, she freezes, seeing the birthmark on her shoulder. 

“Y/N? ”You then scoff, recognizing her voice—the same voice you've despise the most, the same voice you wanted to get revenge on.

"Natalia,” you look up at her eyes—the same eyes you've adored for years, the same eyes that gave you comfort and a safe place before, but now? Now all you see and feel is her broken promises and the betrayal she has done.

When you look into those eyes for the past few months, all you see is you being tortured over and over again. You wanted her to feel the same way you felt.

You wanted to kill her with your bare hands, but every time you tried to, she dodged it. She always fought back. She will always be greater than you.

That's why you're here now, bleeding to death because you can't kill her, so Dreykov chooses to slowly kill you, making sure to make you feel how unworthy and a failure you are that you couldn't kill the black widow herself.

“What are you waiting for, huh? ...You can now kill me,” you snarl at her. Your left eye is blurry because of the swelling and bruise, and your eyes are bleeding, making it harder to open your eye.

“No, don't say that…” Natasha quickly put her gun to her holster and kneeled in front of you, inspecting every inch of your body, making her shudder in horror.

“What have they done to you? ”She looks up at your eyes; her eyes are glistening with tears, not wanting to cry in front of you, but once you see the pity in her eyes, you scoff.

“Don’t act like you don't like what you're seeing.” You then cough up blood, making you feel even weaker than before.

“Wh-what? What are you talking about? ”She's worried that seeing coughing up blood makes her blood run cold.

“It breaks me seeing you like this,” she then proceeds to untie you while, deep inside her, she's panicking.

“You don't have to pretend like you fucking care! ”You weakly growl, getting angry at the moment.

“I do, I do care, my love, I do,” she firmly said, looking up at you. Her eyes say it all, and now tears run down her cheek, but you don't have anything in you to believe her, maybe because you already learned your lesson and don't want to be fooled once again.

“Really? Then why did you leave me here? Huh? ”Natasha, swallow the lump on her throat and go back, untying you to avoid the question.

“Why didn't you come back like you promised? ”And since your body weight is all forward, Natasha caught you when your limp body got freed from the restraint.

“I waited for you, like a fucking dog waiting for their master to come back! You betrayed me! ”She then put you down, taking you on her lap.

“And don't you fucking dare call me'my love'? I’m not the same person you once knew! ”You spat; you wanted to push her or get out of her arm—the same arms that calm you down—but now it feels like burning.

“Shhh…. You'll be OK. I promise. I’m here now…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sniffs and wipes away her tears while she caresses your cheek, and then again you cough more blood.

“No, you're not fucking sorry, and we both know your promise meant nothing! If it's not, you should have gotten me out of here the first time, like you promised! ”She hugged you while tears streamed down her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry,” she keeps chanting while your breathing is shallow and you're slowly losing consciousness, and Natasha notices it.

“No, Y/N, don't close your eyes... Please...” She quickly taps her intercoms to send someone to her.

“Wanda, Tony, Steve, anybody, I need back up ASAP.” She then keeps tapping your cheeks to keep you awake.

“Hang on, my love... You're going to be okay; just keep your eyes open, please. I'm not going to leave you. Again, just please...keep your eyes open,” she whispered, beg caressing your cheek like she did before.

“You know that I fucking hate you?”She gasped, hearing it from your own mouth.

“I fucking want to hurt you…..I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I want to make you feel what they have done to me! ”You look up at her eyes, tears streaming down both sides of your faces.

“Because you fucking left me here alone! ....I begged you…I called out for you. I even waited for you to come back…but you never came…you didn't fulfill your promises. Instead, you turned your back on me. You left and left me here alone, suffering.” You put your hand on top of her cheek and squeezed it the best you could.

“I was scared, Natalia. I’m scared, and you're not there anymore…I’m always scared” You put all of your strength on your hand to take her hand, move it to your lips, kiss her palm, and put it back on your cheek, squeezing it.

“I know… I know, and I’m sorry, my love….I’m sorry I left you behind….I’m sorry. I didn't mean to leave you, I didn't mean to.” She cries out, and you smile at her, a genuine smile you never did for over a year, but Natasha quickly panics when you close your eyes and your hand drops.

“No…no no no…please dekta…open your eyes…please I’m begging you…open your eyes” she tried…she tried to wake you up but you didn't show any sign of waking up, and now every second the warmth of your body is fading and thinking of them makes her wanna die too, instead she hugged and rocked you back and forth while she cried, savoring the warmth of your body that she knows she'll never feel again.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers, putting her cheek on yours, and that's when Wanda barges into the room, worried.

“Nat? ”Wanda stopped on her track, hearing and seeing Nat cry.

“What happened? ”She slowly walks towards her and keeps a distance to give Natasha some space.

It broke Wanda seeing her like this; she knows her as a tough, wise, and smart woman who never shows any weaknesses or lowers her ground, but now that Wanda sees her at her lowest, it breaks her.

“She's gone,” Natasha chokes at her own words. It hurts to admit it and get it out of her own mouth that you're gone. She knows she has to accept it whether she likes it or not

A.N : guys I made a video of this one shot, anyone wants to see it?

[i4oba]

nct 127 as… / fanfiction aus!? 🏡…

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ TAEYONG — street racer!au

you hated that taeyong’s hobby has never changed: it was rather infuriating how he couldn’t have stopped with those stupid street races which he couldn’t even miss once; you had known lee taeyong ever since from elementary school, and you knew all too well how his biggest dream was to take part in formula 1, but a poor boy, living on the countryside can only dream of achieving such heights, he would never be able to reach that. you don’t even know how the two of you got to befriend each other, it might have been that chemistry project where you two were assigned to work together in that old fashioned “the breakfast club” way on saturdays, as you couldn’t properly behave. you two slowly became good friends, and then… something you weren’t able to describe, it was way too confusing, and growing up you two realised that the period of time when you were together, as a couple, was more than just toxic, pretty much unhealthy. you left him for good finally, leaving behind this mess of a relationship when you got accepted to the university of your dreams, after taking one year off of studies because of whatever reason you foolishly came up with. since taeyong’s name was pretty well known by then in the world of street racing, you knew fully well that he wouldn’t just quit for school which he despised anyways. after breaking up, you left everything unsolved between the two of you, leaving behind the memories as well, trying to make it easier for the both of you, after all. you weren’t mean. but that’s the first word in taeyong’s mind when he spotted you standing there at the track: it seemed as if your face became skinnier, your eyes were teary, hair somewhat shorter than what he was used to. you had changed, he decided, when you took a step closer to his car, which he couldn’t bring himself to change up. but he hadn’t changed in your eyes: he was still that little boy filled with enthusiasm, absolutely crazy for race cars, the taste of speed and you. especially you. “please, be careful” you whispered gently, as he drove away way too fast, as soon as the flag fell down. and then he disappeared in the night, loud and swift.

✰ TAEIL — teacher!au

when you applied for a job at the elementary school of the new town you’d moved to, you made a resolution in mind, learning from previous mistakes: you won’t be so forgiving with your students, you won’t let the parents tell you how to do your job and most importantly, you will NOT fall in love with someone at work ever again (it seemed fatal by then, since you had to leave your previous job because of that). you didn’t have that much of experience as a teacher, your diploma was pretty fresh, gathering dust on the drawer, but you would never let that make you feel less: you were enthusiastic, very thoughtful, as you brought cupcakes for your class, for example! i mean, on the previous night, while decorating the cupcakes with that pinkish icing, you wouldn’t have thought this would be the first step of the chain reaction – you fucked up a few times before when it was time for the first impressions, and let’s be real, that’s exactly what happened on your first day too: you clumsily dropped the whole tray of sweet treats in the entrance of the teacher’s lounge, half of the cupcakes actually ending up on one of your colleagues, who you had tons of gossips going around in the hallways following shortly. and you couldn’t even deny the obvious attraction you felt towards moon taeil, who you fell in love with on the first sight. he was a biology teacher which… well, made place for a few inappropriate biological jokes (well, yeah, sex-ed) coming from the sixth graders, or! the silly theories coming from the youngest of students, telling their parents that you are for sure pregnant (which would’ve made you furious if it wasn’t for their undeniable cuteness).

✰ JOHNNY — high school reunion!au

the first high school reunion of yours was arranged by the student who used to be the council president of your class, who even sent out handmade invitations to everyone, hoping that most of the class would go, not holding grudges against each other anymore, no matter how the bond between everyone of you was pretty much terrible. you were not that big of a persona amongst your peers, you were rather quiet, much like an outcast during your high school years, sometimes addressed with the ominous word “weird”, so you weren’t even planning on going, since you knew very well: no one would bother to notice you being there, or your absence either. it was in the last possible moment when your mother persuaded you finally, after a very big fight between the two of you, offering a ride as well, because (whether it’s a shame or not) you failed your traffic exam once again. focusing on this mainly, you were afraid you would come off as a total loser, as you always fail no matter what. but, after not much of thinking, you decided that you can simply lie, since you live very far away from this dusty little town anyways, no one could actually fact check what’s actually true from what you tell. even on the ride to your old school, you were thinking of false fun facts you could say when someone asks something, telling yourself that it’s not that big of a deal, not that big of a lie – as soon as you stepped into the school itself, though, the damn nostalgia reminded you how much of a loser you had always been. plus, the sight of johnny seo made the situation even worse. your throat felt dry, palm sweaty as your courage left your body slowly, evaporating suddenly, as a fully random girl from your class showed something on his phone to you, laughing loudly in your ear, adding something witty too; you were in love with johnny for a long time, and everyone who got to find this out sooner or later, decided to turn it against you as soon as they got the chance, like those mean, little girls in elementary. you never knew how johnny felt about you, since he never actually told you, or brought it up either, because he was simply understanding. well, in the dimly lit bathroom of the school, pressed against the cold tiles, you knew exactly what he might have felt, kissing you messily, like someone who had been starving. you two were cowards to tell the truth to each other, afraid of making steps forward.

✰ YUTA — rockstar!au

it was pretty much a cliché to hear the “i’m with the band” sentence over and over again, but when you started using it… no one could ever stop you. you were proud that your boyfriend reached his goals and his biggest dream, and every time you saw the ever growing audience at their concerts, a certain, really warm feeling appeared in your chest, slowly filling the whole of your body, which, let’s be real, got to your head a few times. the band had been a thing ever since you were high schoolers, really active ever since the first practice in that musty basement, not too intense back then, but really consistent, persistence paying off in the end, resulting in concerts, albums, and whatnot, including interviews – both of your worlds turned upside down, and nakamoto yuta, as the front man of the group became a star, bringing you with himself everywhere they had to go, like a lucky charm. he felt at ease whenever he could spot you in the crowd, maybe in the first row, dancing and singing along to their songs, or at times when you gave an intense, adrenaline driven kiss on his lips before their performances, rewarding him with something more after… somehow it all worked out, since you two were insanely, madly in love with each other. but how long is this going to be the norm? you’re afraid of guessing.

✰ DOYOUNG — royalty!au

it felt a little chaotic as you spent your time in the spacious library of the palace, dressed in your newly made red velvet dress and a crimson coloured mask on your face, far from the ball room, and even further from the musicians, the aristocrats and young men, ready to ask for your hand in marriage. you were only able to stay for one dance, not having the patience to talk to complete strangers, to dance with heirs you didn’t even know of, and to let them get the best of you, waiting for the right time to use you for their own good. no, you’re not suitable for such things, even if it sounded a little selfish at that moment. it bothered you anyway, that you had to look for The One you could marry – you didn’t want to decide during one night only, whether they could enjoy your company for the rest of their lives, or not. to decide who’s the richer man, you could envision yourself with. you sneaked out in a second, when no one actually paid attention to you anymore. you only found the library purely out of accident, but it was such a pleasant accident since you felt like you were home there. it was quiet, the room filled with the scent of old books, and you were left alone with your own feelings and wandering thoughts. or so you thought at first, until someone stormed inside the library, following you shortly (you wanted to guess how much time you spent there, completely lost in the world of books but you lost your sense of time soon after entering). you didn’t even pay attention to the new guest, you simply continued with the intriguing, dusty book in your hands. the newcomer, however, decided to take a seat right next to you, with his own novel he got from one of the closer shelves. he didn’t say a word, but you could feel the smirk playing on his face, angrily closing your book, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. he didn’t have a mask on, which made you recoil a little, your breath hitching at the sight of such handsome young man, turning the pages of his poem anthology with a smile on his face. his gaze met yours when he looked up, winking at you mischievously. and that funny, unfamiliar feeling you felt at that moment, couldn’t have been described in any of those books laying around, although there was at least a thousand of them. only the boy next to you would be able to do so: kim doyoung, the prince of the kingdom, the heir of the throne.

✰ JAEHYUN — forbidden love!au

you hated hearing the word “forbidden”, although you had heard it several times growing up. you’re not a monarch, you bear no wealth and you basically have nothing else either, but the always so kind and warmhearted heir, jaehyun, couldn’t stop spending his precious time with you, since he enjoyed your company to the extent that you were ashamed of it. you had been selling flowers on the street ever since you were a little girl, mind filled with dreams and false hope. jaehyun always made you feel important, never getting in your way of achieving what you’d always been dreaming of. he was always following your steps, much like the shadow of you, not wanting to leave you any time soon. you could’ve thought it was because of the close friendship between the two of you, and you had always been a little oblivious of recognizing such hidden signs. you let him hug you, smile the brightest whenever he looks at you, and you let him waste your time which you were keen on sacrificing for him, not once hesitating whether what you’re doing is right or not. maybe it was a waste of time to spend your time at the flower field together, smelling the sweet scent of flowers, gazing at the sky endlessly. the stupid feelings were so blind and deaf, they couldn’t hear the obvious alarms of “forbidden” being shouted time to time – when he kissed you for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty. you deserved that. guilt only arrived when it was too late already.

✰ JUNGWOO — fake dating!au

you were actually serious about that contract and the paperwork, as an all too practical person you had always been, but jungwoo shook his head, declining your offer every time, saying how stupid it actually was… since you two are friends, right, and this is a one time only thing. it’s just one night, where you can surprise your family, to let them know that you’re not suffering from relationship problems or anything. you got bored of them always bringing it up, and jungwoo had enough of hearing you complaining about it, so he came up with this whole “fake dating” idea. you weren’t too optimistic, especially since your whole family knew about him, which could make you both seem a little suspicious. he calmed you down, though, telling you that you’re just paranoid, and you can say, after a good two or three months, that you two broke up through tears. little did jungwoo know, that you were afraid of a different thing… which involves the feeling of love you had been feeling towards him for years. you didn’t want to let him know about this silly crush you had on him, but you clearly knew that this night will change everything, as you two will have to act like a real couple for the whole night, and you weren’t sure whether you would be able to leave it all behind, once you get used to it. selfish or not, you were afraid that after a night where you two have to hold each other’s hand, kiss each other here and there (in the name of pure acting), you won’t be able to resist the confession. well, it’s such a rookie mistake to forget about the reason why jungwoo offered this whole thing, right?

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love – you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

[skolworthy]

Time Knows No Bounds - Part Five

Warnings: Finally, the sexual tension you have been waiting for! Some NSFW parts are present, so please read responsibly and don't get caught. ;)

Info: When the font is like this, it means Ragnar is speaking in his native tongue. When he is speaking English it will just be italicized. The reader's text is just normal and anyone other than Ragnar or the reader will be in bold.

Spoilers: None, because this is completely my creation (apart from the character/legend of Ragnar Lothbrok and other historical names) it has nothing to really do with the tv series.

Plot: Ragnar, in this series, is unattached to anyone romantically. No Lagertha or Aslaug or any other baby momma's out there. No children. He has met and learned with Athelstan, because that contributes to his ability to speak with the reader. Other than that, he's just a simple gorgeous viking that lives on his farm in Kattegat, dreaming of adventure.

Summary: This will be in Ragnar's POV again. -A rude interruption leads to your freedom from the utility closet, but will the opportunity to get this close ever present itself again? Time will only tell.

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Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

It seemed that there was destined to be an interruption at every time that he attempted to get closer to y/n. First the 'phone' that she had in her pocket back in the bedroom she had given him, chiming when the two of them had just started to lean into one another. Now to the door flying open when he had actually began to make contact with her lips. Those lips that had long been on his mind from the moment she first gave him a smirk back at him in return to his. Ragnar had been enthralled with y/n from the moment his eyes landed upon her after arriving to this time period, even more so than the advanced world around him. Y/n was by far the most breathtaking woman he had ever seen and her sassy personality and humor caused him to grow even more attracted to her as the hours flew by. What really drew him to her, was her sense of nobility: she was willing to do what she could to help him even though she had no real reason to. She could have left him there and been on her way and who knew what sort of trouble he would have found himself in. Ragnar was quite good at getting himself into trouble, and being here alone, he had no one to get him out of it. Yet y/n was adamant in helping him to fit in, and learn the way of things in this time, while also doing what she could to figure out just how he got there and how he could get back. Perhaps it was a good thing that they had been interrupted from their kiss? If he was to end up going home one day...would it not be better to avoid the temptation that y/n presented? Ragnar knew that it was silly to believe this, for they had just met, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he ended up falling madly in love with her.

The small balding man from earlier was standing there with raised eyebrows, though the two of you had pulled apart quickly when the door had opened. The look in the man's eye told them that he had still seen their close proximity and their flushed faces no doubt gave away what had been about to happen. Y/n began to explain the situation and the man just smiled and held up his hand. "No need for explanation, this is honestly the most tame thing I have come across when opening this door." he said, as his eyes cast elsewhere, a vacant and disturbed expression on his face. "I will have maintenance fix it tonight during their shift, mark my words. It's only a matter of time before I end up getting myself locked in here and I can tell you, no one would come looking for the boss." he said with a chuckle. Y/n gave a small smile and then glanced at Ragnar before she grabbed the broom and headed out, to which he followed after her, giving a nod of thanks to the man, even though he was not 100% thankful for the interruption. He followed her back to the exhibit where he watched y/n begin to sweep up the little bits of paper, pottery and other things that were scattered across the floor. He watched her silently for a moment before he began to open his mouth to say something, but she stopped him by handing him the broom. "I need to go and find the dust pan, can you finish up for me?" she asked with a small smile on her lips. How could he say no? He gave a nod of his head and then watched her walk away, his eyes slowly roaming down her body to her backside before he sighed and looked down at the bits that still needed to be swept into a pile.

When she came back they helped one another finish sweeping and dumping the dust pan into the trash before finally they were finished and the exhibit, hopefully, looked good as new. He watched as she went around one final time to each part of the exhibit and adjusted it slightly, before she finally gave a nod and came back over to him. "That's better." she said. Ragnar smirked at her and then set the broom down against the wall. "What is next?" Y/n smirked back at him and then said that they were free to do whatever for the day, since it was still technically her day off. "This is a whole new world for you, what would you like to do?" Ragnar's mind thought back to the moment in the closet, where he had y/n pressed up against the wall with his body, his lips so close to capturing hers as he had been longing for. Yeah, there was no denying that that was what he wanted to explore right now. Yet as he looked at y/n as she stood there smiling at him with a tilted head, the way that the sunlight from the skylights above danced across her hair and lit up her eyes some, he knew that there was something more he wanted. He gestured for them to head out of the museum and as they did, his eyes searching around him at the vast city and all of its massive structures of metal and brick and...noise. So. Much. Noise. Ragnar suddenly felt overwhelmed and he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily before he felt y/n place a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked down at her. He gave a smile and then slid his hands into the pockets of his pants...er...jeans, he believed she called them? "What is your most favorite place to go in the city?" he asked. "That is what I would like to see." he said, his smile forming into his trademark smirk.

This seemed to take y/n by surprise, her eyebrows lifting to the heaven's ever so slightly before coming back down and a smile played upon her lips. "Oh." she said before she pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "Alright, but we will need to grab some provisions first." she said, which altogether confused him. Provisions for what? She lifted her finger and wagged it in motion for him to follow her, he did not hesitate. They soon found themselves back inside her home, where he watched as she went to the kitchen and began to rummage around in the refrigerator, setting things onto the counter before diving back in again. "What are you doing?" Ragnar asked as he finally began to make his way toward the kitchen. "Do me a favor and go grab that blanket that's on the back of the couch." She said while still halfway within the box. He paused, his eyes scanning the room until they caught sight of the large blanket that was draped over the dark blue three cushioned piece of furniture and he picked it up, folding it a bit. He brought it into the kitchen and stood there as she began to put together some sort of food, that contained meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato and placed between two slices of bread. Huh. Ragnar leaned forward some, looking over her shoulder as she cut them in half and placed the pieces into a container and closed the lid. Then she grabbed a bottle of something yellow and a jar of something white, to which she placed it within a large basket. She then grabbed some bottles of water and put them inside as well, along with plates that appeared to be made out of paper and some cutlery too and then she stood there thinking for a moment before she turned and looked at him. "I think that is all we will need." "For what?" "You'll see." He groaned, letting his head fall back a bit as he did and she chuckled, hoisting the basket to him for him to carry and he lifted his head back up, stared down at her silently before pursing his lips and taking the basket from her. "Fine."

Once again he found himself within one of those so called 'cars' and they were on their way to wherever y/n had planned on taking him. The trip did not take as long as he had thought it would, still, he was just as mesmerized by the surroundings they passed as he was the first time he had been in a 'car'. They came down a path that wound a little way, trees on either side in neat rows, flowers at full bloom within their thick foliage. Ragnar leaned closer to the window in hopes of seeing exactly where they were going until the car then came to a stop and he blinked, turning to look over at y/n as she began to open the door. "We will have to walk from here." she said with a smile, a dimple forming at the corner of her mouth that he had not noticed before but oh how he was enamored by it. He swatted her hand away from the basket when she reached for it as it sat between them, taking it in his own hand and gave her a smirk as he exited the car and walked around to where she stood waiting for him. He followed after her as they continued on to a smaller path that branched off from where the car had left them and he couldn't help but let his gaze wander from his surroundings, to roaming up and down y/n's body slowly as she walked ahead of him. From the way that her hair blew slightly in the breeze causing it to dance around her shoulders, to the way that her hips would sway as she walked. Ragnar's eyes couldn't keep from focusing on her backside longer than what was probably appropriate, but he just simply could not help himself. When she turned to look at him over her shoulder, his eyes quickly averted elsewhere before she could catch on, though when she looked back ahead, his eyes would trail right back and a smirk would form on his face.

They finally stepped off of the pathway that she had been leading them down and began a climb uphill until they reached the very top, where she then took the blanket from on top of the basket and threw it outward, allowing it to settle upon the grass. Then she lowered herself down to smooth it out, then she took the basket from his hand and set it off to the side of the blanket before standing back up. Ragnar had been about to sit down upon the blanket, thinking that was what she was aiming to do as well, but she had stopped him with a hand to his shoulder and gestured for him to look in a direction off ahead of them. He turned his gaze and she smiled at his reaction as his mouth parted ever so slightly at the sight of their view. Vast gardens and mazes lined the way below them, colorful blooms of almost every shade all intricately positioned within the maze and walkways. What truly caused Ragnar's mouth to part was the castle that was at the end of the mazes and gardens, perfectly placed like it had hopped off of the pages of a storybook. "Rosenborg Castle and gardens. One of my most favorite places." she said softly as she stood a little closer to him, tilting her head a bit as she looked up at him and then out toward the scenery. "With my love for history, this place never disappoints to fill my head with wonder." Y/n gave a soft sigh and Ragnar finally turned and looked down at her, a smile upon his face instead of his trademark smirk. "It is...quite amazing. There are not many castles back home." He lowered himself down to the blanket as she did, bringing his knees up and letting his arms drape over them lazily as he watched her begin to fish out the items from within her basket and set them out upon the blanket. "What do you call all of...this?" he said, gesturing before him at all of the food, plates, bottles of water and other things. Y/n smiled and opened the container and pulled out the bread with meat and cheese between it and set it upon a plate, handing it to him. "A picnic. That's a sandwich." she added, when he opened his mouth and pointed at the unfamiliar food item before him. His eyes lifted to hers for a moment, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly in question and he began to open his mouth once more. "No, not that kind of witch." Again, beating him to the punch.

Ragnar eyed the sandwich with suspicion at first, then watched as y/n pulled out the jar of white stuff and the bottle of yellow and pointed them to the sandwich. "Lift the bread up and I will add some of both. Mustard. Mayonnaise." she said, holding up each of the items as she named them and he just stared at them before finally doing as she said. "Something the vikings didn't get to experience. A world of flavorful food." she said, clicking her tongue in sadness. When she was finished applying the mustard and mayonnaise, Ragnar let the bread fall back down and then brought the sandwich up to his mouth and bit into it. The moment everything hit his tongue, he paused and his eyes drifted to the basket that sat behind y/n. "Is...there more in there?" he asked, after having swallowed the bite he had in his mouth. Y/n chuckled and nodded, stating she had packed several sandwiches. She then pulled out a small and rather noisy bag and he watched as she opened it, leaning forward and looking into the back as she then pulled out a flat piece of..something, and then popped it in her mouth and he could hear the sound of her crunching it. He raised an eyebrow as she continued to crunch on that piece, from what he had seen it did not look at all hard, but yet the sound was quite...loud. He smirked and then she allowed him to grab one from the bag as well and when he placed it within his mouth, he was blown away from the flavor and when he bit down on it, it would have startled him with how crunchy it was, had he not already known from overhearing y/n earlier. "What is this thing?" he asked, still crunching which made her laugh out loud. "It's called a potato chip and there are so many flavors out there." This intrigued him greatly, the fact that this delicious and crunchy form of heaven was made out of a potato and he then asked y/n exactly how they were made and what these other flavors would be. The fact that the list of flavors went on, and he literally had no idea what more than half of them were, blew his mind though she did promise to help him form a quest to try every flavor possible.

Eventually all of the food was gone and now the two of them were left with just sitting upon the quilt she had brought and watching the shadows grow longer as the day grew ever onward. Y/n told Ragnar the history of the castle that was before them as they sat upon the hill and watched people come and go across the grounds before them. How they would venture inside of it and y/n explained how it was open to the public, everyone able to tour the palace and all of its wonders. This intrigued Ragnar greatly, especially the fact that people could just waltz into the castle like that and this caused y/n to laugh. "Well, there are not that many monarchies still around anymore and even then, their power is nothing like it once was. The average person has more power these days than royalty, honestly. Governments were created, people can vote and choose how they want things to be. It's a very different world now." she said as she leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out before her as she looked at the castle while the sun cast down upon it in a way that made it almost look like it was glowing. Ragnar glanced over at her, not being able to help himself from doing so, his own hands holding him upright as he leaned back upon them as well. He took in just how she was looking at the castle and the grounds that lay out before them, how her eyes showed just how much she admired the history that she knew, the architecture that the castle boasted even after the centuries that it had been standing there. His chest swelled a little as he gazed at her, the way the light would dance across her face as sun hit against the surface of the small lake that was in front of the castle. He finally cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. "Why are you helping me?" he asked finally after a few minutes of silence.

Y/n was silent for awhile after that question, but as he watched, he could see her face showing signs of deep thought. "Because there is a reason behind all of this happening: you suddenly coming into the future and us meeting." she paused for a moment and then looked over at him. "I want to know what that reason is." Their eyes locked for a moment, Ragnar's heart suddenly skipping at beat just from that and then y/n smirked at him. "Plus, you seem like a trouble maker. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you." At this point, Ragnar could not help himself. He leaned toward her, his left hand reaching up and placing itself against the back of her neck gently and with it he brought her toward him. The soft gasp she gave in response silencing as his mouth captured it, his lips softly pressing against hers at first before they began to guide hers in a subtly sensual dance. He could feel her hesitation in the beginning, from the way her body went stiff but after a few moments he felt her relax, give in and she began to move her lips against his as well. The sensation of her lips moving against his caused that low burning heat he had within his lower stomach to engulf into a raging inferno, escalating as her hand made its' way to the side of his face and cupped it for a moment before moving behind his head, to the back of his neck, her fingers digging slightly into the base of his hairline. Ragnar continued the kiss, slowly deepening it as he then moved his body closer to hers and began to maneuver her downward toward the blanket they were seated upon, his hand cradling her neck to guide the way. He moved so that way he was somewhat on top of her, his lips dancing against hers until they began to venture along her jawline and behind her ear, his mind and body reeling from the soft sounds of agreement that came from her mouth as he did.

The hand that he had been using to keep himself from putting all of his weight upon her, slid around her waist and then began to travel toward one of her breasts when suddenly he felt her hand catch hold of his wrist, stopping his movement. Ragnar paused and then slowly pulled his face away slightly, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow. "We should stop before someone sees." she said, which caused him to lift his had further and scan the area with his eyes before looking back down at her. "No one is watching." he said with a smirk, starting to lean back down toward her mouth, but she put a hand against his chest, once again stopping him. Y/n gave a soft chuckle and began to sit up, pushing him upward as well with the hand that was upon his chest. "I'm sure where you are from, people just fuck in the middle of the village and no one spares a passing glance, but here it is quite different. We don't need to end up in jail." Now sitting up, she began to pack up the items around her and put them into the basket. "Perhaps it's time to head back home?" she said, her eyes lifting to meet his. Ragnar quickly stood up and began to carefully roll up the blanket as she gave a soft laugh and moved from on top of it so that he could place it into the basket as well. Soon a taxi was hailed and the two of them were riding along in silence that was so thick that the tension could be cut with a knife. Glances were stolen. Lips were chewed upon slightly. Ragnar's knee was bouncing uncontrollably as he let hand rest there, fingers gripping into his flesh, his mind imagining that his hand was kneading one of those impressive mounds she had for breasts. Could this taxi possibly move any slower?

Finally back at y/n's apartment, they worked together to put away any left overs and other items before y/n stated that she was going to take a shower and Ragnar gave a nod, figuring that he would just lie down upon his bed since he still did not really understand how to work the 'TV'. He followed after her down the hallway and as he did, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her as she was before him. The way her back curved, down to that luscious backside...the feelings from earlier began to swell back up within him with a vengeance. Ragnar's pace quickened by a few steps and he then took hold of y/n's waist and turned her toward him suddenly. He moved her against the wall, pushing her up against it as he leaned down and claimed her lips with his once again. Any gasps or noise she may have made in reaction to this sudden movement was swallowed down by Ragnar as he pressed himself against her, his hands sliding down her sides and squeezing lightly. Y/n gave a soft moan against his mouth and this caused him to give a bit of a growl as he then moved his lips to her neck, one of his hands sliding down to cup against her bottom and giving it a hardy squeeze. Ragnar felt her fingers curl a bit into his hair and grip hard, which made him suddenly move his hand from her bottom down to that thigh and he lifted her leg up and wrapped it around his hip as he pressed his growing excitement against her. When he felt her grind against him slightly, Ragnar all but lost control and began to bite and suck against the skin of her collarbone as he used his other hand to move up under her shirt and cupped one of her breasts, giving it a firm squeeze after. Y/n's hand took hold of his braid and pulled his head back up to where she began to kiss him fervently, her tongue even darting across his bottom lip. Ragnar groaned, pressing himself more against her as his body pinned her against the wall, giving his hips a roll while holding there and then grinning against her mouth when she let out an involuntary moan. He then removed his hand from under her shirt and slid it behind her to where he cupped her other thigh and brought it up around his hip as well. He held her like that for a moment against the wall, devouring her lips, biting and sucking against that bottom lip of hers until he then moved away from the wall, carrying her down the hallway and through the doorway of his room.

Their lips never parted as he carried her, not even as he came over to the bed and lowered her down onto it, moving to hover over her. Ragnar took the time to lift her shirt up and over her head, letting his eyes roam over her flawless skin, his eyes hesitating on the odd looking bodice that was clasped around her perfect breasts (he made a mental note to ask about this later). He then began to kiss down the side of her neck, letting his lips dance across her collarbone once more before he moved them further down until he came to the tops of her breasts. He placed light kisses there at first...then he began to lick, moving the piece of fabric that kept her sensitive bud hidden from him. Once it was revealed, he took it into his mouth gently and sucked on it lightly, his eyes lifting toward y/n's face as she gasped. Her back arched upward from the bed and he let one of his arms wrap around her waist to keep her in that position as he then let his other hand begin to slide down the front of her pants, now that there was room with the angle she was in. Ragnar moaned against her skin as he swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucking and gently biting down as his fingers descended toward his objective. His index finger had just brushed against her ready clit when the sound of numerous chimes echoed around them. He paused, lifting his eyes toward her as she gave a groan. "Someone's at the door." she said, breathless. He felt her body begin to tense with the movement of trying to sit herself up, but he held her down with his palm against her pelvic bone and his mouth quickly moving to the other breast as his hand moved away the fabric from that nipple as well. She gasped, arching upward again and gave quick and eager attention to this breast for a moment before lifting his face up some and looking at her. "They can come back another day." he said with smirk, before he began to move his fingers back to her clit...when the chiming began again, this time more frequently. Ragnar gave a loud groan and let his forehead rest against her chest for a moment, before he felt her hand gently begin to push against his chest and he reluctantly rolled off of her and onto his back upon the bed, staring at the ceiling with annoyance.

Y/n gave him an apologetic look before she slipped her shirt back on over her head and adjusted her hair before heading out into the hallway and toward the front door. Ragnar waited for a moment, allowing certain body parts to adjust to the unwelcome interruption, before he pushed himself off of the bed and headed to the living room. He stopped in the doorway of the hall when he found y/n standing by the front door, now closed, with a young man standing beside her. The man cast him a look with a raised eyebrow, to which Ragnar did not hesitate to give back until his eyes moved to y/n as she spoke. "Ragnar, this is my older brother, Kyle."

Gif Credit: @captainalicen

Tag List: @cullenswife @hypocritic-trash-baby @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huskyhunnyny @wolfy1712 @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @mssbridgerton @menari @kcd15

(If I have forgotten anyone in the tag list, please let me know and I will fix it! <3 )

[atinystraynstay]

My Flower - Park Seonghwa

Synopsis: Seonghwa saw you as his world, his everything. You're always the person he can go to when he has to make a tough decision. You are always eagerly listening to the new tracks and watching the dance practices for upcoming performances. Even after long days, you were there to welcome him with open arms. What happens when his whole universe is left feeling like the world is against them?

Pairing: Idol! Park Seonghwa x reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2k

Warning: does describe anxiety and a bit of depression. If you ever do need a place to vent, always feel free to send a message. You're never alone 🩷

You couldn’t shake how you were feeling. From the moment you woke up, you felt like clouds were hanging over your head. You tried your best to shake off the feeling by actually getting out of bed and getting in the shower.

Growing up, you used to be more shy about expressing your emotions. People used to comment how much they loved your smile when you were younger. It even got you the title of “the kid who always smiles.” You had a genuinely happy childhood, but the title and comments from people taught you that negative emotions such as sadness or anger should never be expressed.

Those bad days became intense because you got into the bad habit of allowing emotions build inside of you to the point you would burst. Those intense moments would cause you to cry until your chest hurts, not knowing why exactly you were upset because they were a cultivation of numerous events that occurred - some fairly recent to things that happened weeks ago. You would describe your younger self as a volcano waiting to erupt. You gave off the illusion that you were calm, put together. That was until the emotions bubbled up and overflowed. The severity of the eruption dependent on what triggered it.

It is part of the reason why you started therapy at a young age. Realizing you were struggling, your mom took it upon herself to get you set up with a therapist so you could begin to learn how to regulate your emotions. You’re thankful your mom was that proactive.

Of course, the way you handled your emotions at 15 is not the same being in your 20s. Going to college was a time that tested your development, your way of being but also helped you grow. You discovered more ways to help you calm down, how to communicate more efficiently when you were frustrated or upset, and learned to accept the bad days as life lessons. Truth be told, you felt more in control once you were living independent and finding who you really were meant to be.

Since getting with Seonghwa, you could say you’ve had more good days than bad. He was the person who offered a safe refuge to feel out and express your emotions. One of your favorite ways to unwind was to just watching Seonghwa build his lego sets. He just looked so at peace as his focused on which pieces go where. It made you feel content seeing him so relaxed which ultimately helped you, knowing that he was taking care of himself.

It was hard for Seonghwa to show his true colours sometimes. Being the oldest member, he felt the pressure to put on a brave face, strong aura especially for his younger members. Like you, he thrived on being the person people could depend on. With you though, he didn’t have to pretend everything was ok. He could cry, vent, scream if he needed to. You guys balanced each other out, or at least that’s what he thought.

He didn’t know over the past few months, you’ve begun to harbor your emotions again. You were so focused on providing for Seonghwa, attending to your job and other responsibilities that you were beginning to slip again. Yet, you didn’t want to show any signs of it. You were positive that you were strong enough to weather any storm.

Lately, life felt like you were trapped in a hurricane. Your job was severely understaffed, which meant your workload doubled than what it was supposed to be. It didn’t help that you didn’t get much joy out of your job either. You worked longer hours, and over time, you’ve had to give up going to the gym. You sometimes weren’t coming home until 7 or 8pm, completely drained from having to be at work at 7am. Your boss promised it was temporary, that they were actively searching for new employees, but it’s been months at this rate.

It didn’t help that Seonghwa hasn’t been home often. His attention was needed at the studio most days. ATEEZ were preparing for their new comeback, and you were so proud of all of them. You just hated being separated from your partner for so long, especially when nothing in life was going your way. Seonghwa always did a good job at reminding you what was going right when you were having difficulty seeing it for yourself. And right now, everything seemed so bleak.

After work, you found yourself just sitting on the couch. Your jacket was hung up but purse was left by the side of the couch. Despite how little energy you felt like you had, you somehow were able to make your way to the living room. You were stationary, leaning against the back of the couch but doing not much else. You were staring at her TV, staring at the reflection of yourself on the black screen. Your mind was racing with ideas as you were trying to steady your heart. Anxiety and depression can be nasty monsters, and when they are both working in unison, they felt like an unstoppable duo.

You didn’t even register the sound of the front door opening and closing. The thoughts that were occurring in your head were deafening, the only thing you can focus on. You closed your eyes to get to pick through and silence the loud voices in your head.

Am I doing enough at my job? Is my job even worth it? I’m supposed to love what I do but why do I hate myself so much for doing it? When will I be done?

“Baby? Come back to me, angel. Please.”

A gentle, warm touch started to bring you back to reality. It caused you to jump because it was a sudden touch but you completely relaxed staring into the eyes of your lover in front of you.

Seonghwa was crouching in front of you. One hand was on your knee, the other gently cradling your face after brushing a few strands of hair being your ear. His eyes bouncing all over your face to try to piece together what might be troubling you.

You noticed the concerned expression on his face which caused you to frown. You hated letting him down. You were meant to be his source of strength, but here you were doing the complete opposite.

"I'm sorry, Hwa. I didn't even hear you come in. Have you eaten? I didn't get started on cooking but I can do that now," you offered. Your voice was a bit weaker than you wanted it to be.

Your boyfriend just stared at you. His lips pulled into a small frown. You wanted to just sink into the couch at this point. It felt like you were digging a hole and it was only getting deeper.

"Y/n, there its something wrong. You need to tell me what's going on in that pretty mind of yours, so I can help you." "Why?" He looked stunned at your response. He leaned back quite a bit, which made you pray the floor gave out at this point and took you and the couch with it. At that moment, you wanted to take back every word you said to cause such an alarm. His eyes traveled your body. Not in a suggestive way, but you could see the gears in his head were starting to turn. What was he looking for?

"How long?" "What?" "How long have you been feeling this way without letting me in?"

You hung your head low, almost in shame. You weren't shocked that Seonghwa cracked your code, but you thought you could put this little act on longer. Until work settled down, until your mind settled down, and until your mind felt better. Then you were planning on unleashing your realm to him, so he didn't have to save you from it. You didn't want to drag him down when your own personal demons were trying to do that.

"Oh, my love. Come here," he whispered. He then stood up to sit on the couch, cradling his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. With your body turned sideways, your leg were sprawled out across his lap and onto the couch. He rested on hand gently on your knee, letting his thumb run over it. His other hand supported your back, allowing you to rest comfortably.

"If I could take some of your sadness away from you, I would do it in a heartbeat," he whispered. He leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. "But for now, I think we need to get you in the bath or shower because you're practically cold to the touch."

You nodded your head, gazing up at him. For the first time in the past few days, you felt like you let yourself give a genuine smile. It was a start for Seonghwa. With ease, Seonghwa lifted you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs to your shared bathroom.

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

You felt your back fully relax against the porcelain white tub. Your body was surrounded by bubbles that were scented like rose water. The water was also a nice warm temperature, almost as if you were being wrapped in a blanket.

Seonghwa sat right beside the tub, facing you. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, occasionally running his fingertips along the water or across your leg underneath. You were grateful for a gentle lover like Seonghwa. He maintained a soft gaze on you, ready to jump and get you whatever you desired.

You reached one hand to run through his soft black hair. You pushed it back slightly to expose his face more, causing you to smile. You always felt the need to pinch yourself that you landed someone as handsome as Seonghwa. But he also felt the same. He was the happiest man with you, he was in love with you.

"One of the things I've always adored about you, darling, is how generous you are to other people," Seonghwa began. Your hand moved gently from his hair to his cheek. His voice was gently, leaning slightly into your touch. You found yourself smiling lightly at the compliment, about to open your mouth and give one back but he cut you off.

"But I wished you let me give back. I wish you would allow me to help replenish your heart, replenish your being, or even give you extra love when you clearly need it the most."

You sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "I know. I've been doing pretty well, believe me. I think with how hectic things have been lately, I just found myself slipping into old habits. I didn't want to burden you with my own problems." "But that's the thing, my love. It is never a burden. I am your partner, I am here to help you through the hard times like you help me."

Seonghwa took your hand gently from his face. He cradled your smaller hand in both of his. You watched him intently, intrigued by what he might have up his sleeve. His lips pressed gently to your knuckles before resting his chin against the edge of the tub.

"It's you and me in this universe, babe. You take care of me, but I want to be able to take care of you. You just have to let me in, especially when it gets tough."

It was then you spilled your heart, or more so your mind and its never-ending thoughts, out to Seonghwa. You told him about work, about your progress in your mental health journey, and why it is difficult for you to open up. You explained your rationale for why you kept things suppressed, despite being ashamed of yourself for your poor judgement.

Yet, Seonghwa listened intently. He was quick to remind you everything you've been forgetting.

"I knew my y/n was strong. I understand where you're coming from. You can handle most things on your own and it truly is admirable. However, I'm always going to be here to pick up the extra weight. I'm here to support you," he reaffirmed.

For the first time in your life, you're experiencing a love so genuine and authentic. Seonghwa was everything you could've asked for and so much more. You truly won the jackpot. You felt nurtured, like a flower being watered and placed in direct sunlight for the best outcomes. Seonghwa truly was your source of light, energy, and love.

"I love you so much," you whispered. "And I love you today, tomorrow, and forever," he whispered back.

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Hello!!! Can you please write a Seo Moonjo fic, where he becomes possessive/obsessed with Jongwoo's gf or with a female who works with him?

Overcompensate

Absolutely lovely! Here's a bit of a drabble for you!

Pairing: Seo Moon-Jo X Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore & possessiveness, Moon-Jo shows very yandere tendencies, cannibalism allegories

Moon-jo was a simple man.

Not necessarily in theory, but in practice. He knew what it was he aspired to obtain in his lifetime and with the amount of work and dedication he put into those aspirations, it makes sense that he would achieve them. Simple.

But as to what he wanted and the lengths he would go to, stopping at nothing...that was a little more complicated.

To his surprise, he had found himself in a situation where the goal wasn't in relation to dentistry or murder. He was having a bit of an issue sorting out just exactly why the new tenant of Eden Residence was so captivating, so enthralling to him. What was it about the boy who lived next door that led Moon-Jo to believing that his existence was some sort of spiritual awakening he would have to come to discover? Why was he suddenly so fascinated in the idea of pulling back his brain and picking out all of his thoughts, consuming them in their entirety until there was nothing left of poor Jongwoo but a vessel of the human being he once was? It was Kafka-esque, a metamorphosis of his character; to watch him succumb to the ravaging animalistic qualities that Moon-Jo believed all humans to possess. It was strange and it was beautiful.

And oh, was it something Moon-Jo wanted.

So he put in the work. Day after day he spent trying to get under Jongwoo's flesh, tearing open another layer piece by piece to truly understand his newfound obsession. But with every step closer to his goal he got, the more confused he became. There was nothing he was learning that he had hoped for. Jongwoo was buckling under the weight of his neighbor's madness, yes. But he wasn't the right image of Moon-Jo's work. This frustrated him to no end.

He still remembers when everything finally clicked into place. The night had just fallen and the stars crept up in the sky, illuminating the long path to the Residence. Although the lights were dim, one could still make out the small cats darting back and forth as they played with one another in the underbrush. The air was crisp and still with no wind, a perfect temperature to end an outrageously hot summer day. Moon-Jo awaited on the rooftop with two beers, as he usually did, watching the path below for his Jongwoo to arrive back home with his furrowed expression of displeasure and overly large backpack slung over his shoulders from an excruciatingly long day at the office. He would be lucky to convince Jongwoo up to the roof where he sat and even luckier if he could manage to get him to drink his beer. He knew Jongwoo was onto him and his...stranger tendencies, but he would receive the fruits of his labor. He always did.

The beer can was cold under his grasp, the condensation slipping from his fingertips and falling beneath him as the drops pattered onto the cracked concrete. He was starting to grow slightly warm, however, he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or the growing anticipation he felt as he awaited the boy's arrival. His eyes didn't leave the road once.

As he looked beneath him towards the winding street, he finally saw his neighbor trudging up the path, same expression on his face Moon-Jo had expected him to be wearing. But, to his surprise, walking beside the man he'd so desperately tried his best to court 24/7 was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life.

It shocked him-almost-his hand immediately dropping the beer he was holding as he lost his composure for the first time in many years. It was sudden, as though he'd been impaled by sword, piercing through his lungs and stopping his breath as his heart skipped a beat. He had never been so hungry, so devout for human meat. He didn't want to cannibalize you, no. But he so desperately wanted to consume you and your being which is almost the same thing...right? He knew what Jongwoo had meant to him now, it was almost so clear in the way it presented itself; Jongwoo was never meant to be the product of his manipulation. It had always had to have been you.

Your eyes looked up towards Eden, missing the strange man on the roof entirely. Moon-Jo found himself entranced by them, watching the way they shone under the stars and the soft light from the windows of the Residence. They were like Bosch's paintings of the divine, absolutely encapsulating the beauty of the gods. Your hair fell slightly past your shoulders and framed a face he could only assume belonged to heavens itself. Your body swayed with the movement of your feet as you followed your boyfriend's suit, duffel bag in hand.

Moon-Jo thought he had died and been met with the face of a deity.

On your end, the only thing you were thinking about was Jongwoo's warnings from earlier. Once he had moved to Seoul and started living in this dingy place, he had instantly been met with strange roommates whom he'd talk about often. You were worried about his dwindling sleep schedule and his overall safety, residing in a place like this on the outskirts of town. If something terrible were to happen here, you weren't even sure police would show up in this precinct. For Jongwoo's sake, however, you swallowed down your nervousness preparing to have that conversation with him later.

Collecting himself, Moon-Jo practically sprinted towards the stairs and made his way down to Mrs. Eom's desk, leaning against the dilapidated building's walls, forcing himself to contain the sparks flying through his veins. He had to keep himself together, make the most impeccable first impression and swoon you over, whoever you might be. He needed you to like him, to trust him. If he ruined his image right off the bat by voicing his true inner monologue, it would be so much harder to mold you to his image and sway you into his grasp.

"Jongwoo, are you sure this is something you want to do? We could always sleep at my place if you're as uncomfortable by this place as you say." You said, closing the heavy door behind you and setting down your duffel bag for a moment to regain your breath.

Jongwoo shrugged and picked up your things containing all your overnight clothes and whatever else you'd brought to work that day. He had just simple given you a "yeah, this is fine" before turning around to be met face-to-face with the one person he didn't want to see or have the imposition of introducing to his girlfriend at all. He had hoped he might be able to sneak you past and into his room before anyone even noticed he was there; as he usually did. He'd presumed Moon-Jo to be on the roof for his nightly drink, whenever he stayed at the residence and not in his own apartment.

Beside the wall-almost eerily so-Moon-Jo stood, ignoring Jongwoo completely. His eyes were trained on you as you gathered yourself enough to take him in, watching the man before you breathe in the very fiber of your being. He was tall and dark haired with extraordinary cheekbones. With a face card like that, you were sure he'd have had to be a model or do side-gigs of the sort. His smile was a pleasant one as it seemed inviting, but upon staring at it for a few moments, something about it felt off to you. His black button-up was loose around his collarbones and neatly tucked into his slacks. He was fairly handsome, you thought, forgetting that Jongwoo had warned you of this 'crazy neighbor' before inviting you to stay at his place to catch the train back home tomorrow.

A piercing feeling of nervousness took over your body and shocked you instantly. There was something extremely peculiar about this man and you wanted nothing to do with finding out what it was. There was something haunting about the depth of his cold, dark gaze, contrasting Jongwoo's warm and inviting one. You swore to yourself in that moment not to walk anywhere on these premises without Jongwoo for fear of running into this man alone.

However uncomfortable you may have felt, Moon-Jo was in love, if that's what you would call it. He wanted this-you, so intensely and so immediately that his entire body felt as though it were shaking with tremors. He would stop at absolutely nothing to have you, to own you. You were what he had been unknowingly waiting for his entire existence and Jongwoo had only been the key. Smiling, he shook his hand out towards yours, ignoring the complaints from your boyfriend from beside you.

"My name is Seo Moon-Jo. The pleasure is all mine."

"(Y/N)." You replied.

[peachesofteal]

Hey Peach!!

I just read the ultimate angst post you made and I'm literally not ok but I absolutely love your writing. You write angst so so well it's astonishing and I strive to write at your level one day.

But I can't get all these possible scenarios out of my head about that au so I thought I might share them with you.

So I'm thinking Darling is going to the motions of grief and anger as the boys leave and so decides to ignore them completely. Like she goes ghost mode on them. They text her their apologies on the day their leaving and for obvious reasons can't keep in touch after that.

Darling is a complete mess for the first couple of months after their departure. Living in that apartment alone would become too much for her. Every nook every coner holding precious memories of their times together. She would cry looking at the knick knacks they'd left behind accidentally. Fantasizing about what could have been if she had told them, If they hadn't decided to break up on the spot without consulting her, if they had communicated better. But it's too late now, their gone and she can't even let them know she's pregnant, not that she wants to anymore after being dumped like that.

She decides eventually to pull herself together for herself and her growing child. An apartment move was very necessary for her mental well-being so she decides to move somewhere her child can have a fulfilling upbringing. A fresh start somewhere where she isn't consumed by their memories. Somewhere that doesn't remind her of them when she's walking through the park where she would pick wild flowers together with Johnny to put in pretty vases on the dinning table or going to their favourite grocery store and shops looking for ingredients to try new recipes together which might not always turn out great. Or when the local pub owners ask where her pretty men are when their away on ops. Those little things would chip away at her if she had to think about them constantly.

So she moves and begins her difficult and lonely journey as a single parent but still trying to enjoy all her first milestone of her pregnancy. She goes to these wellness classes for expecting mothers where she has to watch couples enjoying their pregnancy together while she sits there all alone. It's difficult to attend these check-ups and classes but she manages for the sake of her child. She might have a little gender reveal by herself or with some friends but in my head darling might go to a bakery with the little slip of paper the maternity nurse had given her and asks them if they could make a cupcake with the adjacent colour filling on the inside so she can celebrate at home, probably with some nice food and her favourite movie. Deciding the name of the child, painting and decorating a nursery, going clothes shopping she wishes she had them there with her as much as she doesn't want to admit missing them, she also might cry alot along her journey but she is constantly learning as she goes along to give her child the best possible life she can provide. But as her mental health fluctuates she finds it increasingly difficult to take care of herself as she nears the due date to give birth.

All this is happening while the boys are on their very difficult and taxing mission. Trying their best to stay alive for each other while dealing with the guilt of hurting darling the way they did . They try to rationalize their decision to break up with her to dissipate their growing guilt but to no avail. They're constantly thinking about her, wondering how she's faring, if she's eating well, if she's recovering from the hurt they caused. They hope to come back alive to talk to explain their reasoning for their decision and try to make it up to her again. Not realising the darling they had left behind was long gone by the time they would get back.

Sorry for going off on a tangent I hope you enjoy my little take on your au. The real angsty parts comes when they get back a realize she's gone for good. Thanks again for blessing us with your writing 💗

I am throwing writing tools at you! Books! Notebooks! Pens! Paper! Laptops! Disco baby au 18+ Mature themes.

I love all of this, but one thing that really sticks with me is the image of Darling, sitting at the kitchen table, alone with a cupcake. You don't have a party, don't have friends over, you just go to the bakery and get this one, singular cupcake, made for yourself.

And then, when you finally get home, after a way too long day at work, your body sore and back tired, you sit down in front of it.

You always thought, that if you were to have a baby, this is something you'd do with your partners, if you even chose to do it at all. You always envisioned not finding out, leaving it for a surprise when the time comes, but this... none of it feels right. None of it feels like it should, and you think that means you shouldn't wait. You should get to know, right now, since there's no one else to share it with, no one else who even cares.

So, when you finally cut into it, and finally see that stupid color on the inside (because also, screw this whole concept to begin with) you don't feel joy. Or excitement. You feel crippling sadness, and you rest your head on the table as you start to cry, cradling your belly with a hand when the baby starts to move.

This was supposed to be good. We were supposed to be happy. You can't not think about the way Johnny would whoop and cause such a ruckus at the news, the way his eyes would light up and how he would pull you in for a devastating kiss. You think about Simon, and the way his eyes would grow wet, even though he swore he wasn't crying, how he would hold you and tell you how happy he is, how much he loves all three of you now. You, Johnny, and little baby girl.

You can almost see them, in the flat, almost hear them, and if you close you eyes, you can picture them sitting on either side of you, holding your hand, kissing your skin slowly. Making you feel loved. Making you feel safe.

But they're not there. You're alone. You, and little baby girl, doing it on your own.

[circeyoru]

The Boy & The Witch _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Witch!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 (here)

The boy, now named Alastor, came often to your little home in the forest. His attitude could be described as excited, eager, and twisted. You’d say that it was near your level and perhaps over as time goes by. You weren’t wrong

Alastor was more adapt in learning darker arts. While you can heal, Alastor shows no talent in such. Though as if to make up for it, he was extremely talented in shadows. A form of magic you have trouble with due to your abilities in the purer magic. Soon, his shadow came to life with glowing eyes and a crescent moon as its smile

You told him that he needs to control his shadow as it started doing it own thing when it came to life. It was harmless to you, but if anyone were to find out, there’d be hell to pay. It took a while but Alastor and his shadow got used to each other. When dealing with sentile beings, it takes time, you told him while he mediated, if he wants more control, he must be of sound mind and body first

Once, you were in town again, gathering on some supplies to stock up and saw Alastor. You were going to greet him, but you saw a women step into the frame. You figured it was his mother, but you were conflicted, his smile was genuine, familiar to how happy you saw him when he was learning and mastering the darker arts of voodoo magic

Thinking back, he never mentioned his mother to you, only his father that he loathed and seeked revenge on. The conclusion you came to was that he was doing it for his mother too, the mistreatment included her

You left, reminding yourself to talk with Alastor the next time he visited

“You know you can’t go to Heaven now that you meddle in voodoo magic, right?” You leaned against the door frame of your little experiment room, your arms crossed over your chest while you looked at the back of Alastor’s form. You noticed his shadow’s smile turned to a frown and shivered, but Alastor reminded focus on his task “What brought this along?” Alastor questioned as he grind down some animal bones accounting to one of your many books “The other day, I saw you with your mother I presume. She’s a nice lady that will go to Heaven and you’re damned for Hell.” You continued “You’ll be there with me, right?”  “Well, of course, I’m the one that brought you into this, so naturally. I think my family and relatives made some sort of clan down there. They living the life ther.” You chuckled, “And Hell is supposed to be a punishment too.” “If you’ll be in Hell as well, I can live without my mother there, she belongs in Heaven. I’ll treasure my time here now while I’m alive.” Alastor spoke softly Your eyes narrowed, a small frown on your face, you turned to leave but not before saying, “Then you shouldn’t be there with me. Go back home, boy.”

Like Alastor was listening to you, he didn’t come back the next day, or the day after. For a while, your home was void of the apprentice you took in and given the name of Alastor to. You’ll admit that you felt lonely and thought if you were being too cruel to him

You waited for a week longer to see if there was any change in Alastor’s visit to the forest. Oddly enough, there was no sighting of him. Why you say that because when he was younger, he’d play disappearance for a few days to catch your attention. You found him hiding within the tree branches when you went to look for him

But now it was a teenager, nearly adult. Some can say you two grow up together, you’re not shy to admit that he has grown to be quite the lady’s killer. He has gonna popular in school and town. Getting a nice internship at the radio station to prepare him for his future career

You knew that under his perfect front, how painful and cruel his life behind closed doors was. Not to mention his cruelty and heinous thoughts he habour to those that do him wrong. So you left your home when the sun was about to set to where Alastor’s home was. You peeked inside from one of the uncovered windows. It was all quiet. Too quiet

Securing your cloak and the deep hood over head, you went to the back door. Using your own shorted staff, you tapped the lock and unlocked the door as it opened on its own and closed when you entered into the house

You wandered around, coming to a stop when you passed the living room with a body laid on the carpet and another on the couch. You cautiously stepped forward, checking the mother to see if she was breathing, when she was, despite the blood from her head. You turned to the man, father of Alastor’s due to the resemblance, and checked his breathing. He was sleeping

Kneeling down, you hovered your hand over the mother’s injured head and healed her a bit. Then you turned your attention to the staircase and slowly made your way up. When you made it up, you scanned the doors that were all opened, except one. You stood before it, trying the handle first, locked. You did the same thing to the back door and unlocked it with ease

The door creeked with a whine, you eyes pierced into the room, bathed in the light from the setting sun. You noticed the motionless body on the bed and made your way over. You sat on the edge of the head, facing away from Alastor. “You know, your mother’s in a dying state. But I healed her enough to get through the night.”

Alastor merely flinched, enough of a sign to show you he was awake and listening

“I wonder though, still you let this father, this man, to rule over your life any longer. You’re not the only one suffering.” You spoke

You sat there playing with your shortened staff when you left Alastor get up and left the room. You waited for a while before you followed suit and went down. You weren’t surprised to see Alastor standing over the now dead body of his father and the blood staff in his hands

With a snap of your fingers, the living room was in a worst wreck. You walked over to Alastor, pausing to let him lean over you. “Don’t worry, this would be like your family was attacked by armed robbers. You’re going to sleep for a while and your neighbours will find out then alert the police. I honoured your revenge, now let me handle the aftermath.”

As if your words were what he needed, his eyes closed shut and his full weight crashed into yours. You carefully kneeled down to set him on the floor. Making sure he was just sleeping. You eyed his shadow and pushed the staff to it so that it was hidden when the neighbours and officers come

You stood on the branch of a nearby tree, its leaves hiding you while you watched concerned and nosy individuals crowd around Alastor’s house. The police set up the perimeter and medical officers brought Alastor and his mother’s unconscious bodies to the hospital

“Glad it wasn’t the young boy or the mother that’s killed.” “Yeah, would have been unjust.” “Now they can live peacefully.” “That’s good.”

So the father wasn’t well-liked already. You thought to yourself, your staff elongated to its original form. You tapped the end of it to the tree branch. All the better. You stared down as the deceased body was brought out. Makes for an easier target. I have to ask my family to catch his soul.

Note: Long overdue part 2. Since things have slowed down, I'm working on the requests meant for longer writing. The ones where I can rant or is just a short answers will be posted quicker~

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron@mistpurpl3

[yournecessaryevil]

🥀 Scream For Me 🥀

💀GHOSTFACE! CHRIS X READER ONESHOT💀

He's the one with the dark secret you were never meant to discover. And you're the one who almost got away....

• smut; language; TW dark themes of death, violence, blood/gore, and a knifeplay kink

You were never meant to find out.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

How had things become such a fucking mess?

"You guys leave to come home soon, right?"

You stared down at the sleeves of your sweater, your fingers toying with the edges of the fabric as you waited for Chris's response.

Him and his bandmates had gone on their tour about four to five months ago, and while you knew they were due to come home soon, it still wouldn't be soon enough.

Why, exactly?

About a month or so before Chris and his band were supposed to go on tour, there had been headlines in the news of a sudden string of murders a few cities away, with the location of each murder growing closer and closer still, up until the most recent one.

That one had occurred only within a two hour's drive away from the city you lived in. A month or so had passed without any news after that, everything seeming to calm down a little.

But while you were trying to remain positive, deep down, you knew it would only be a matter of time before the one responsible for the murders would strike again, maybe this time choosing your own hometown as their next target.

"Baby, I promise, we only have one week left, and then we're home," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. Your wide eyes locked with his as you nodded, though the traces of a frown still marred your face.

Almost like he knew where your thoughts lay, Chris spoke up again.

"Y/N, sweetheart. I know you're worried about what's been happening in the news, but I promise, I'm gonna be home so soon, and then I can keep you safe," he tried to assure you.

"They got really close before you left, Chris," you mumbled, your gaze dropping to land once more on your sweater. "They won't this time, don't worry," he immediately answered.

There seemed to be something almost unintentionally dark about the way he said it, like he somehow knew. Then again, maybe you were just imagining it.

"Hey, so I know Halloween's coming up soon..." Chris began, trying subtly to change the subject. You couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way onto your face.

He knew, he always did.

Ever since the two of you had started dating and he'd learned that Halloween was a favorite holiday of yours, he'd made it his personal mission to go all out for you, every single year.

And each year somehow seemed to top the last, if that was even possible.

You nodded, grinning as your fingers began to toy with the edges of your sleeve again.

"Only one more week," you echoed his earlier statement.

"Any plans? Just- please, don't do any of the haunted fairs or anything without me. I want to be there to do that with you," Chris said with a grin.

"Nah, she's gonna go get possessed in a haunted house or some shit!" you heard Vinny chime in from the background.

You were unable to keep from laughing as you nodded, answering with a "Yeah, just for you, buddy," much to Chris's disapproval.

"You guys are the worst," he grumbled.

You grinned at him, offering an apologetic "I love you?"

He stuck his tongue out at you, before calling you a brat and returning your heartfelt sentiments.

"Also, to answer your earlier question, yes, I do in fact have plans. Might catch up on the Scream franchise," you said with a grin.

Chris raised an eyebrow at you, shaking his head. "Those old movies? Haven't you seen all of them already, babe?"

You shrugged in response.

"I dunno, can't beat the classics. It's like you with the entire Halloween franchise," you pointed out.

Chris shook his head, making a face of disgust. "Nope, not all of em. Halloween H²O was the worst one of the franchise, and everyone knows it," he countered.

"Agree to disagree. Anyway, you know why I like watching all those horror movies," you said with a smirk.

Chris did indeed know why you liked horror movies so much.

There was just something about the fear and the adrenaline that kind of got you going, and when he'd found out your little secret, he'd been more than happy to indulge and explore in it with you.

If you were being honest with yourself, it had led to some of the dirtiest, (and sometimes borderline dangerous) sex you and Chris had ever had.

You could feel your thighs clench together now as your thoughts drifted back to some of those nights, when he'd had you trapped beneath him during sessions involving knifeplay...

The way you'd been so willing for him, craving his touch and the touch of the blade, the way Chris was always so careful and his intentions nothing short of pure, even if the act itself definitely said otherwise...

"Pretty baby, penny for those thoughts?" Chris teased you, startling you out of your brief daydreams.

The smallest of gasps slid from between your lips as you met his eyes, noting the way a smirk now rested on his perfect face, making him very much resemble the cat that ate the canary.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you stared back at him, unable to form words. His smirk only grew as he stared back at you, those warm brown eyes seeming to darken a shade or two.

"Oh, I bet I know where my pretty little baby's thoughts went..." he said with a wink, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before letting it go.

Your eyes locked onto the minute little movement, and you swear, you could feel your heart stop for a second or two.

"O-only a week left before y-you get home?" you asked him, your words stumbling over one another in their rush to get out.

Chris nodded, a familiar look settling in his eyes. It was a look you knew well, one that never failed to excite you.

"One more week, baby, and then I'm coming home to have my way with you," he confirmed.

"O-okay," you breathed, your thighs clenching together once more. One week, that wouldn't be so bad, right? Still...

Your mind once again started to conjure up the images you'd seen in the news, crime scenes and death tolls and pure horror...

Shaking your head, you bit back a frown, quickly masking it with a smile that you hoped would fool even Chris himself. And by some miracle, it seemed to work.

"Hey, Y/N, baby, I gotta go. We have to start getting ready soon, but I'll text you the minute we get back in that break room, okay?"

You nodded, exchanging farewells with Chris and the rest of his bandmates, before the video call ended, leaving you sitting there in silence.

One week...

Why did that suddenly feel like an eternity?

Only two more days.

He could make it that long, right?

Part of him felt incredibly guilty for not texting you to let you know him and his bandmates were already back in LA, had been for the past three days, actually.

But right now, there was an entirely different emotion taking over everything else, a much darker emotion, one he had grown quite familiar with.

There was just something so thrilling about all of it, about the fact that nobody, not even LAPD's finest themselves, had caught onto it yet, had caught onto him yet.

Not even his bandmates knew, although he could have sworn that his guitarist and closest friend, Rick, was slowly starting to suspect.

But how could he?

He'd been incredibly careful, very meticulous with the way he'd gone about it, never leaving any evidence to suggest that he'd been the one to commit such horrendous acts.

No blood, no foul, right?

Except there'd been plenty of blood, exactly the kind of thing you just couldn't seem to avoid with these types of situations.

The faintest of smirks pulled at the corner of Chris's mouth as he recalled the most recent of atrocities he'd committed.

The way the light had slowly left the man's eyes, the way he'd begged and pleaded before he'd been slaughtered like an animal...

It was always one of the best parts, hearing them beg, seeing the fear in their eyes when they realized that no, in fact, it wasn't a game, it wasn't just a movie, it was actually happening.

It was kind of ironic, really.

His sweet, adorable little Y/N wasn't the only one who got off on horror...

And now, as he donned that familiar mask, another smirk crossed his features, concealed by that ever silent, eternally screaming face he wore so proudly.

Tonight was gonna be such a fucking scream...

Tomorrow.

Chris and his bandmates would be coming home tomorrow, and then you'd have him home with you for another several months, maybe even a year, before he'd have to leave again.

The thought made you smile, although unbeknownst to you, your good mood wouldn't last. Your phone pinged on the bedside table, and in a hurry, you snatched it up, expecting to see a message from Chris.

But what you were most definitely not expecting was a panicked text from his bandmate and closest friend, Rick Olson.

'Y/N. News channel, now. You need to see this, it's... bad.'

With a frown passing across your features, you slowly reached for the TV remote, switching the set on and flipping to the local news station.

And as you sat there watching, your heart slowly sank, an odd sort of cold settling deep within your bones.

Splashed across the bottom of the screen, a single news headline: 'DEATH TOLL RISES AS LA LOCAL IS FOUND MURDERED'.

You sat there, listening with an anxious sort of desperation, your heart thundering in your chest. LA, that was... here. Had it finally come to this, had the person responsible for the slaughter finally made their way to your hometown?

You continued to watch the ongoing news with rapt attention, until something the news anchor said caught your attention, something about how they had given the suspect a new moniker, "the Ghostface killer".

No... this had to be a joke, right?

It had to be a mistake, right?

Surely there wasn't actually some sick fuck out there taking inspiration from a movie franchise... right?

Your phone pinged once more in your hand, startling you, and as you glanced down at the text, your heart dropped as far as it could possibly go.

'There's something else. Chris is gone. He left an hour ago and hasn't been back since. And he's been acting... weird... lately.'

What exactly was Rick implying here?

Wait a minute... was he assuming Chris had something to do with all of this?

You typed out a response, your fingers working quickly, almost in desperation.

'Are you saying you think Chris has something to do with the murders?'

Almost immediately, Rick's reply came through.

'I don't know yet. But something isn't right. I think- I think I know what's going on, but I really hope I'm wrong...'

You were about to respond when there was a muffled clatter from downstairs, sending your heart into a frantic staccato within your ribcage.

Phone in hand, you slowly got up off the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. You stopped near the bedroom door, glancing down to send a quick text to Chris.

'Babe, when do you guys get in tomorrow? Are you able to come home early tonight?'

You waited anxiously, but five minutes went by without a reply, so you sent another text.

'Please, I really need you right now... 😰'

Another five minutes went by, and still no response from him. Rick was right earlier, something was very wrong about all of this...

Slowly opening the door, you crept out and down the hall as silently as you could, your breath trembling as you carefully leaned over the banister to sneak a look downstairs.

Several seconds went by, until you heard footsteps, accompanied a moment later by a dark shadow cast on the floor.

You scrambled back from the railing, your heart pounding, each beat sounding rather loud in the silence of that dark hallway.

Back pressed against the wall, you stood there, waiting, hoping anxiously that your little intruder would give up and leave.

But to your horror, you heard footsteps ascending the stairs.

Trying not to panic, you made a beeline for your bedroom, and that's when you heard those footsteps behind you, growing louder before they suddenly stopped.

You cast an anxious look over your shoulder, immediately wishing you hadn't.

Behind you, standing at the end of the hall, was a black-cloaked figure, their face concealed by none other than... a Ghostface mask.

Fuck, they were here-!

You stood frozen in fear, watching as the figure stared at you, their head slowly tilting first to the left and then the right, almost like a hunter regarding their prey.

And then they were running towards you, before you had time to react.

A cry of fear left your mouth as you turned and ran into the bedroom, trying desperately to close the door, a struggle ensuing between you and the intruder.

Your phone clattered to the ground as you pushed against the door with all your strength, trying hard to get it to latch shut so you could lock it.

There was a loud thump from the other side of the door, and you staggered back a little, another cry leaving your mouth.

Abandoning the door, you ran over to the window, trying desperately to throw it open so you could escape, but you had only gotten it up maybe an inch or so before you felt strong arms close around your waist, yanking you away from the window.

Several pleading screams clawed their way up your throat, echoing off the walls of the bedroom, and you kicked your legs, fighting as hard as you could to get free.

Tears streamed down your face as you were slammed down onto the bed, your breath nearly knocked out of you. As gasping sobs slipped free from your parted lips, you stared up at the masked killer with wide eyes, your body numb with fear.

Is this really how it would end for you, dying at the hands of a masked murderer-?

Fuck-!

He had made sure to be as quiet as possible, and it still hadn't been enough.

Y/N...

You'd heard him.

As he made his way towards the stairs, he cast a glance upwards, and he could have sworn he saw you for a second, leaning over the railing.

But when he'd started ascending those stairs, all hell had broken loose.

You'd ran from him, actually ran from him-!

Why the fuck did they always have to run??

He stood there at the end of the hallway, staring you down, noting the fear in your eyes.

And you'd stood there, staring back at him like a little deer caught in the headlights.

His little deer...

In that moment, he wanted so badly to unmask and show you that it was okay, it was just him, nothing and nobody would ever hurt you.

He wanted to stand there and scream at you to move, fucking run, do something-

But it was too late. That familiar look of fear had already settled in your eyes, and Chris needed this, as sick as it sounded.

He needed you to feel that fear, he needed you scared for him, his frightened little bunny.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he took a running start towards you, and that's when you'd finally moved, running into the bedroom and throwing the door closed.

Or you'd tried, at least. He was faster.

He leaned heavily against the door, trying to push it open, to get inside and get to you, but you fought back, pushing harder against the door.

Under any other circumstances, he'd have been impressed, even a little proud of you.

You were fighting back so well for him, such a good girl. He'd have to reward you for that later.

But right now, all he felt was irritation.

If you'd just let him in, let him explain himself-!

Gritting his teeth, he threw all of his weight against the door, hearing you cry out in response, the noise igniting something deep within him.

God, you were so fucking good-!

But once more, the irritation flared up, drowning out any other emotion he may have felt in that moment. Jaw clenching, he slammed his weight against the door one more time, the wood easily giving way beneath him.

For a moment, he stood there in stunned silence, watching as you tried desperately to open a window, to get away from him.

That wouldn't do, he couldn't have you ruining everything for him just like that-

In three large strides, he was behind you, arms circling around your waist and yanking you away from that damned window, your screams echoing out into the night.

Again, something ignited deep within him, and he was unable to keep the tiny smirk from making its way onto his face.

Little Y/N.... you'd always been quite the screamer for him, hadn't you?

A soft groan left his mouth, too quiet for the voice modifier hidden within his mask to pick up on.

He threw you down onto the bed, leaning over you and pinning both of your wrists beneath one gloved hand.

You opened your mouth to call out for help, but before even he knew what was happening, he had drawn his knife, the blade toying with the delicate skin of your throat, your cries dying out into silence.

And as he stared down at you, taking in everything about you, his former irritation and arousal was slowly replaced by something more potent... a shred of remorse, perhaps.

Fuck.... what was he doing??

You weren't supposed to find out, it wasn't supposed to end like this. Something in your eyes made Chris briefly suspect that perhaps you already knew it was him beneath that mask, and that's why you were so terrified.

Because you'd trusted him and he'd gone and done terrible things in return.

He'd worked so hard to keep all of it from you, everything. And now, here you both were.

Him, towering over you, his anxiety and nerves and all that stress concealed ever so easily behind that familiar mask, his blade at your throat.

And you, lying prone and helpless beneath him, those eyes wide with fear.

He hated it, hated himself.

He hated how sick he'd become, getting off on this, getting off on you like this.

How had things become such a fucking mess??

Chris swallowed hard, staring down at you, and before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, modified to sound exactly like the character he'd been masking behind this entire time.

"Hello, Y/N... This horror enough for you?"

The answering look in your eyes, the way you swallowed nervously beneath his blade, the way you clenched your eyes shut tight, tears streaming down your face as you just lay there...

It was like you were giving up, accepting the possibility that you might die tonight.

He hated that.

Where was your fight from earlier, where was his feral little thing from a few minutes ago?

It's like all the fight had gone out of you the minute he'd had you pinned beneath him.

"Y/N..." he breathed, leaning closer, his face inches from yours.

You stared up at him, unresponsive and numb with fear. This wouldn't do at all, he missed the excitement and the way you'd look at him when he'd play on your fear during all those knifeplay sessions, times that now seemed to be a millennia ago.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..." he tried again, his nicknames for you a last-ditch effort to get through to you.

And at last, his words triggered a response.

"Little mouse, pretty baby..."

Those words, spoken in the masked killer's rasping voice...

Your eyes went wide at the familiar nicknames.

There was no fucking way-

Chris??

He wouldn't really do all of this, would he?

Except... you cast a look down at the blade held against your throat, and that's when it dawned on you.

Though it may have been spattered with blood, probably from the most recent of murders, it was still familiar, nonetheless.

You recognized the engravings along the dark handle, the way the blade curved ever so slightly near the tip.

It was the same knife.

It was the exact same knife Chris had used on you countless times before, his hands steady and his focus only on you, always on you.

Even now, with your wrists confined beneath one gloved hand and his face inches from yours, the focus was entirely on you.

And you swore if you looked hard enough, you could see those familiar dark brown irises behind the mesh eye-holes of the mask.

You sniffed, blinking away more tears as you inhaled a shaky breath.

"C-chris?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

The grip on your wrists subtly loosened, just enough for you to feel the difference, to gauge the current mood in the room.

"No more tears, little mouse..." the voice rasped again, and the cloaked figure raised the knife, waving it back and forth once, twice, almost as an imitation of scolding you.

And then lightning fast, before you knew what was happening, he was bringing the knife down towards you, making easy and immediate work of shredding your thin nightwear like it was nothing, until you were laid bare before him.

You visibly flinched, and you could swear you heard a soft groan emit from behind the mask. "Now that's much better, isn't it?" the voice rasped, taking on a rather condescending tone. You couldn't help the spark of indignation that flared up within you, despite the lingering fear.

And the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

"Fuck you."

The masked figure tilted his head to the side a little, his blade once again inches from your throat.

"Are you asking me or telling me, little mouse?" he teased.

And before you could stop it from happening, he had reached down towards your thighs, dropping his blade for a moment to wedge one gloved hand between your legs, prying them apart and exposing everything for the world to see.

You watched as he dipped one gloved finger down along the spot between your thighs, looking on in silent, horrified shame as he brought that now-glistening fingertip towards the mask, slipping his hand underneath to taste your essence on his tongue.

"Fuckkk..." the voice groaned, the single word almost a growl.

"Still as wet for me as always, pretty baby..." he continued. With that, his grip on your wrists loosened just a bit more, but the gloved hand that had been between your legs was now wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly in warning.

"You gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?" he asked.

This was wrong, all of it, it was so wrong, on so many levels.

You knew that, you had already wasted so many tears on it tonight.

And yet...

No. No, no, no.

You had to know why, first.

"Chris, why?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you watched a sort of change come over the masked figure kneeling above you.

His grip on your wrists and throat loosened, a soft sigh coming from behind the mask. A moment or two of silence ticked by, and you almost didn't think he'd answer you... until he did.

"You don't get it, do you?"

The figure heaved another sigh, before he abruptly reached up and yanked the mask off, revealing a familiar head of purple hair.

Chris looked ragged beneath the mask, which he now let fall to the floor beside the bed.

"They all deserved it. Every... every single one of them," he said, a weary expression on his face. "Every single one of those greedy, self-centered, fucking narcissistic assholes-" he ground out through gritted teeth, reaching up to run one gloved hand through his hair, "they all deserved what they got. All of them."

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing. All those times you had told Chris how you were worried, how you wanted him to come home, and the whole time... he knew.

Of course he knew, he'd been the one committing the murders in the first place.

Despite the fact that it was your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- or maybe it was because of your boyfriend sitting here in front of you- anger flared up within you, hot and quick.

"So all those times I begged you to come home, to stay with me, to be careful on tour... none of it fucking mattered, did it?" you ground out through clenched teeth.

Chris heaved a sigh, releasing his grip on your throat to push back the few sweat-drenched purple locks of hair clinging to his face. "Baby, I-" he began, but you cut him off.

"No! You don't get to justify this! Instead of coming home and spending time with your girlfriend, you'd rather get your fucking kicks murdering people!" you spat.

Chris immediately went on the defensive, grabbing the knife from where he'd dropped it and pointing it towards the spot at the base of your throat, his face contorting into a snarl.

"Do not be a fucking brat!" he hissed, leaning closer to you, those brown eyes like dark embers scorching through to your soul. The way he said it, the dark inflections in his voice, something about the way he was glaring down at you right now- you hated it, hated him.

And yet... it ignited a spark of arousal in you, starting from deep in your lower belly and spreading all the way to the tips of your toes.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue before they slipped out.

"Fuck you."

An irritated growl rumbled deep within Chris's chest before his mouth was suddenly on yours, silencing any further sharp words and choking them out on your tongue.

"Gladly, little mouse," he hissed, his mouth working furiously against your own, his tongue and teeth working in unison to send you down, so far down, into that familiar spiral, unraveling so easily beneath him.

With another irritated growl, Chris broke the kiss for a moment to sit up, yanking off the glove on his left hand with his teeth, tossing it aside before he grabbed you by the jaw, forcing you to look at him and only him, always him.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled, glaring down at you. You stared defiantly back up at him for a moment, drawing it out as long as you could before he raised a brow at you.

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him, just how he liked it. "Good fucking girl," Chris muttered, before he shoved two inked fingers into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"Suck. Now," he growled, staring down at you with narrowed eyes, that knife once again pointed towards the base of your throat.

You glared up at him through narrowed eyes before reluctantly doing as you were told, but not without biting down softly once, twice.

Chris let out a hiss, gripping the sides of your jaw with his few free remaining fingers, his eyes darkening. "Don't you dare bite, you little fucking brat!" he warned you, his tone firm. With that, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, but the minute you went to close it, he shook his head at you.

"No. Mouth open, now," he ordered. You rolled your eyes at him, but complied, opening your mouth for him once more.

And Chris leaned over you with a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he spit into your mouth, the taste of him lingering on your tongue.

"Fucking swallow."

You did just that, glaring him down the entire time, your former hatred for him flaring up again, along with that delicious little spark of arousal.

Chris offered you a smirk, though there wasn't a single trace of humor within it. "Good girl," he muttered, the words of praise only adding further fuel to the steady blaze slowly burning away in your lower belly.

And yet that hatred was still there...

"I hate you-" you started on a hiss, but Chris shook his head at you, his gaze softening the tiniest bit.

"No. You don't. You love me, Y/N, you always have," he argued, before leaning down to kiss you.

And it was true.

You hated it, but he was right.

There was a small part of you that refused to be silenced, refused to die out.

You still loved him.

You hated him and you loved him, all at once.

You know what he'd done, the atrocities he'd committed, all of it was an unspeakable sort of horror. What he'd done to you tonight, was another horror entirely. And despite all of that...

You couldn't bring yourself to hate him, to truly hate him. At the end of the day, he was still Chris.

Chris, the sweet man with a heart of gold for those he cared about.

Chris, the goofball of his friends, the one who could make anyone smile, even on the worst of days.

Chris... the man you'd fallen hopelessly and endlessly in love with, who you'd given your entire heart and soul to.

You knew you'd always love him, you knew it in the way you kissed him back right now, in the way your leg slid up just enough to rest against his thigh, in the way his touch left you wanting more.

And he knew it too.

A soft groan left his throat, followed by a mumbled expletive, his mouth working urgently against your own. "Shh, baby, that's my good girl," he whispered, his tone less harsh than before. Your hatred slowly ebbing and fading into nothing, you let natural instinct take over, too exhausted to keep fighting, to keep trying.

You loved him too much.

Your leg hitched up a little further against Chris's thigh, a groan leaving his throat as he set the knife aside to grip tightly on your outer thigh, keeping you pinned against him as he kissed you.

"Such a good fucking girl for me..." he breathed against your lips, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. You arched up into his touch, wanting more of him, all of him.

"Need..." your breath was coming out in soft pants as you stared up at him, silently begging him to take control, to give you what you needed, what you always desperately craved from him.

"What, pretty baby, what do you need?" Chris murmured, leaning back to smirk down at you, a knowing look in those warm brown eyes. He knew exactly what it was you wanted, the smug little fucker. You glared at him, your breathing heavy as you waited.

"Don't look at me like that, use your words, Y/N," Chris told you, his eyes narrowing for a split second. You huffed, your gaze softening and turning into a pleading look, begging him again.

"Please?"

That one word seemed to set something off inside of him, because in one second, you'd been silently begging him, and now here in the next second, he was leaning down over you, his inked fingers reaching down to toy with your clit.

Then before you could even blink, you felt him push two, three of his fingers inside of you, curling perfectly against that sweet spot deep within. Your back arched up off the bed, a soft cry leaving your throat as Chris slowly worked his fingers to bring you closer and closer to that edge, ready to fall at any moment's notice.

And then all too soon, right as you could feel that warmth blaze deep in your belly, he was withdrawing his fingers from you, eliciting a noise of disappointment from deep in your throat.

"Shh, little mouse. Don't worry, I'm not fucking done with you yet," Chris murmured, his eyes darkening a shade or two as he stared down at you. "On all fours, now. Turn around," he added, leaning down to kiss you once, twice, before releasing you.

Your thighs trembling, you got up on all fours, turning to face away from him. "Head down, eyes closed. I want you to fucking feel this, all of it," Chris's voice was in your ear, all dark seduction.

And how easily you obeyed him.

A satisfied growl rumbled from deep within Chris's chest, and you had maybe all but five seconds before you heard the sound of a zipper being undone, followed by the feel of Chris pushing into you, burying himself deep inside, his hips settling against yours.

"Fuck... You're so fucking wet for me, you don't even need lube, little mouse..."

His words brought back that fire in your lower belly, a groan leaving your throat as you tilted your head back. His hand was on your throat in an instant, his fingers curling to grip just tight enough, exactly how you loved it.

All of this felt so familiar, so easy...

He had you exactly where he wanted you, and you didn't mind in the least.

Your thoughts were suddenly disturbed, your mind going deliriously blank as Chris's hips met yours repeatedly, each thrust seemingly rougher than the last, his hand holding ever steady to your throat like it was his own personal lifeline, his salvation.

And then he pulled you up by the throat, your back meeting his chest, the new angle causing little stars and dots to splash across your vision, soft cries to rise up from your throat.

Looking back over your shoulder, you saw him use his teeth to rid his other hand of its glove, before those inked fingers grabbed ahold of your jaw, tilting your head back far enough for Chris's mouth to meet your own in a harsh, unforgiving kiss.

"Still... fucking... hate me?" he gasped, in between kisses. You inhaled a sharp breath, your eyes meeting his as he waited. "No..." you finally breathed. And you could see it in his eyes, the way he knew you were speaking the truth.

Sure, you'd probably come to regret this a little the next morning, but here? Now? Right in this very moment? You still didn't hate him, you couldn't.

How could you hate someone who, despite having a near god complex this evening, despite committing horrendous atrocities, even despite hunting you down like nothing more than weak prey, still somehow had your best interests at heart..?

How could you hate the one person who had been there for you from the beginning, who had loved you more than you loved yourself at times?

"Say it," Chris's voice cut through your thoughts, his words firm.

"I... I love you," your answer was immediate, your breath coming out in soft pants.

"Mm... of course you do, pretty baby..." Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little kisses and bites along the skin there, bruises sure to form the next morning.

The hand on your throat moved down to rest between your thighs, his fingers toying with your clit and drawing you closer and closer to that sweet high, the blaze in your lower belly burning brighter than ever.

"Hah... fuck... m'close..." you groaned, leaning your head back to rest it on Chris's shoulder. He nodded, his grip on your jaw tightening a little as he bent down to kiss you softly on the mouth. "I know, baby... come on, Y/N..." he gently coaxed you, his words only adding fuel to the fire.

And then his next words had you tipping over the edge, falling blissfully down into that delicious darkness, his name leaving your mouth in a garbled shout.

"Scream for me, little mouse..."

Scream you did; your throat felt raw as your hands rose to claw at his, clinging on tightly almost out of fear of losing him, your first climax only working to bring on a second, more powerful one in its wake.

Somewhere in the white noise filtering in through your brain, you could hear Chris groan from behind you as he reached his own high, finishing inside of you, your name leaving his mouth like a swear word.

"Y/N, fuck, that's my good girl..."

His words of praise had you going completely stupid and sick in the head, your thighs trembling beneath you, and had he not been holding you tightly to him, you're sure you would have collapsed under your own weight.

As the two of you slowly came down from your unified high, Chris gently pulled out, tugging you down to lie next to him on the bed, shoving the earlier discarded knife to the side until it clattered to the floor, where it would most likely remain until the next morning.

Your heart thundered in your chest, the white noise gradually fading as you curled into Chris's side, your hand resting atop his still-clothed chest, your fingers tracing the collar of his robes, before a frown marred your features.

"Off.." you murmured, earning a deep chuckle from Chris as he sat up, tugging the black fabric over his head before discarding it on the floor, next to the knife.

"C'mere, lay down. Is this what you wanted, mouse?" he asked, pulling you closer to him. You nodded, your hand resting atop his chest again, your fingertips tracing over the ink there.

"Subby as shit, look at you, Y/N..." he teased you. Trying to hide a yawn, you lightly swatted at him, grumbling to yourself. "Shut up, I could kick your ass, you know..." you sleepily mumbled. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

"Says you, who wouldn't even have survived in her own horror movie," came his lighthearted response. "That's 'cause the villain is always hot..." you mumbled in response, yawning again.

That earned you another laugh, followed by a soft kiss on the forehead. "Hard to argue with that. Here, stay here a second. Let me clean you up, baby..." you heard Chris murmur, before you felt the bed dip under his weight.

You could hear his footsteps fading away, followed by the distinct sound of the tap running in the bathroom, before he came back.

And despite you trying your hardest to stay awake, there was just something so soothing about the warmth of the cloth down your back, in between your thighs, along the back of your neck...

"Stop fighting it, mouse. Get some sleep for me..." Chris gently chastised you, before you felt him lean over the bed to kiss you gently on the cheek. You mumbled a response before your eyes grew heavy, sleep waiting to overtake you.

And as his footsteps faded again, you finally gave in, letting your eyes fall closed, succumbing to the welcoming darkness of sleep...

You had done... surprisingly good.

Not even that, you had done exceptionally well for him. Better than he'd thought you would.

He had expected you to put up a bigger fight, sure, but... he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You loved him, you always had, always would.

The way you'd surrendered so easily to him after putting up quite the little fight... he had rewarded you decently enough for that.

At least he thought he had.

Either way, judging by the way you were currently passed out on your bed, tucked under the blanket he had taken great care to drape over you so you wouldn't get cold, he had worked you over pretty good.

God, the fucking noises you'd made for him tonight-! Always a good girl for him...

A gentle smile passed over his face as he leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching you sleep for a moment or two.

And then he noticed your phone lying there on the floor, completely forgotten from when you'd dropped it earlier.

Crossing the room to lean down and retrieve it, he glanced down at the screen, a small smirk settling over his features as he read the most recent text, from his bandmate and closest friend.

'Y/N!! Where the fuck are you??'

Ah, so that's who you'd been texting earlier...

Unable to help himself, he opened the chat, snapping a quick photo of you asleep in your bed, before hitting send and typing a reply, his smirk still in place.

'Little mice asleep in their beds... Y/N is safe with me now, she sends her love...

XO, Ghostface'

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