#and it's a very intense choice to make she raised this kid for 18 years

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

the way evanora possesses agatha again when she says "i can be good", like she wants to prove her own view that her daughter cant be. making alice attack her evanora, almost recreating what happened in the trial a little bit, making this new coven see what agatha will do (again, not on purpose), and making them turn on her

[kateandanthonyaremyparents]

"Choosing To Never Leave You"

link to ao3 version here (tw: mentions of sickness, death and intense grieve)

@stars-of-kyber thank you babes for the moodboard 😭

"If I had a choice, leaving you would never be one of them."

They were his last words, and Kate knew Anthony hadn't lied. He had no choice, he'd fought with everything that he had. And by the time it was over, his death was almost peaceful. He had suffered enough, battled the cancer for too long and gave up everything in the process. So, by the time he had to give up, it felt like the right thing. He deserved to find rest, gave up responsibility, hand over his self proclaimed duties to Kate.

But in hindsight, that first feeling of acceptance, it was one big, fat lie. 

Because of course it wasn't okay. It was the most unfair thing that ever took place. Kate still didn't know in what world would it be okay for four children to lose their father? In which universe would it make sense for Kate to raise them alone? Sure, she was glad he wasn't in pain, but that was as selfless as she could be. With Anthony closing his eyes for good, Kate lost sight of what made life truly worth it.

And it wasn't as if she wasn't grateful for everything they'd shared. She was, wholeheartedly and completely. They had shared 24 perfect years together, and Kate still couldn't decide what was her favorite part of it. It could very well be the beginning, filled with new love, bonding, opening up, meddling. It was the most carefree area of them all, but it didn't last long. Being oblivious and selfish wasn't a thing they were good at, and people in love have the tendency to act a certain way.

Maybe it had been the middle part? The part where their family grew. It had started with Edmund, then Miles. Their beautiful sons. Both completely different, loved entirely the same. Anthony was born to be a dad. He had made things so much easier. They did everything as a team, together and dedicated. Their early thirties were when they truly became steady and relaxed. It was then that they realised this was it, enough, and stopped trying to be someone they're not. Simply because it was already good. So by the time Charlotte came, she completed them in more ways than one.

Yes, the middle part had been good. And Kate knew she would never choose the last chapter, because it contained his death. But it also was a part of the area Mary was born. Their little surprise. Only announcing herself when Kate was already 6 months pregnant. 42 years old and about to be a mother of an infant again. It was Anthony who beamed with pride, who lightened up everything, who couldn't wait to do it all over again. He always made her happy, and when she wasn't, he knew what to do. Mary was the perfect example of his wisdom.

It was the first 5 perfect years in that last time period that weren't overshadowed by pain and devastating grief. The latter was downright difficult. First came the diagnosis, fighting a battle that couldn't be won, and then defeat. 

Kate tried to be a good parent. And she sufficed, in a way at least. She had Mary by her side, preventing her from spiralling the way she had. Violet was there to take over when she was too overwhelmed, allowing her to grieve without her kids seeing it 24/7, bringing them back home when she was cried out and ready to cuddle and love them. She talked to a therapist, and she went to a grieving group. 

Kate tried to get ready for life again, but on days like this, it was almost impossible.

It had been 1,5 years since he left her. 18 months in which she hadn't dared to enter his study. But she had to, today she had to, because Mary needed to renew her passport, and Edmund wasn't around to get the forms out of the drawer from his desk.

When Kate walked in, she gasped so loud it was more like a sob.

The overwhelming presence of her husband took her by surprise, and somehow, in all the devastating pain that ran through her, there was a sense of comfort in it as well.

"Oh, Anthony." She cried, letting the tears fall without caring. The room was perfect. Neat, warm, cool. Just like it always had been, "I'm so sorry." She still gasped for air, and Kate had no idea why she had made excuses, she just genuinely felt like she had to.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you, and for missing you so much." She whispered, "I love you." Kate seated herself in the brown leather chair, resting her arms on the big mahogany table and caressing the wood like she did a thousand times before. "I know I'm failing, our kids need me, but sometimes I just can't. I know we blame our mothers for doing just that, but it's like I'm missing the part of me that makes me function." Her hands grabbed a framed photo, it was from the last carefree holiday they took. All 6 faces screamed joy. It was bittersweet, because only 6 weeks later their world would collapse. Still, Kate understood why he framed it, why it was there. It was longing for how it was, it was craving for it to return, it was gratefulness for all that they had, and just the persons he had loved the most.

Kate wiped her cheeks dry, not because she wanted to stop crying, but because she needed her vision back, and her watery eyes had clotted it.

"For my dearest."

It startled Kate to see his neat handwriting, and it took her a few seconds to digest it was an envelope, and that it was addressed to her. It was strange she didn't notice it the second she walked in, because it was so present in the room, it practically screamed her name. And in a way it almost did, because it was laying in front of a framed photo of her.

How long had it been there? Has it always been there? Waiting for her to open it? It was a possibility, because Kate knew her eldest, the only one who dared to come in, wouldn't force her to. He was just as thoughtful as his dad. 

With shaky hands, Kate lifted up the envelope. Was she ready? Could she handle reading his written words? 

Maybe she wasn't, but there was no way Kate would ever walk away from a thing her husband created. Carefully she opened the envelope, and out she took two pieces of paper. 

"Oh my god." Kate shrieked, probably loud enough for everyone to hear, "Anthony Bridgerton, you awful, lovely man." She said after she read the first few lines.

"My love, my life, my heart,

If you read this, the worst has happened. I don't know if I'm 39, like my father was, or older. Maybe I've jinxed it, since I wrote it the night before I turned 39. But since I'm gone, there's really no way for me to know.

Hopefully, I'm older. I want to be older. I want to spend as much time with you as possible. You, my dearest Kate, have made it all worth it. 

You, my sweet, sexy, funny, and smart wife, are the reason I get up in the morning. You made me a father. You gave me three amazing children. And this is me thanking you. Or the universe for creating you. Because it feels deeper. It feels like we were meant to be. 

Me, as one person, didn't make sense. Me with you, was when I knew where I belonged. 

Don't be too sad. Please know that if I had a choice, I would've never left you. This is probably for the best. Even though the thought of leaving you kills me (yes, pun intended), I hope this makes it bearable. 

I love you, wherever I go.

Your Anthony."

Kate was shaking  dizzy, but also craving to read the second letter. She tried to contain herself, fought inside herself for a little shrink of courage to actually lift the paper.

"My dearest, my love, honey, Kate,

Well, we both know I survived my 39th, but I probably won't live to see 50. I forced Edmund to bring me to my study, and I'll regret it later, but I desperately need to add some notes to this letter.

I'm going to die, sooner rather than later. I hate it. I hate leaving you. I hate leaving our kids. I hate leaving our family. But sweetheart, and I know you won't believe me at first, but it's okay. It truly is okay.

I have zero regrets. I have loved so deeply, I have lived so full, I can say without remorse, that now that my days are over, I can go and still be happy. 

My mother was right, and maybe I needed my dad dying for me to realise it's no crime to go. It's simply out of our control, all we can do in the meantime is make the best of it. And my beautiful Kate, we did. 

You can mourn me, you can fall apart, you can be as broken as our mothers were. I wouldn't blame you. God, I know I would if I were you, and to be honest, I already miss you and I'm not even dead.

I just wish with every fiber of my being, when you start seeing the light again, you'll join me in my happiness. Share the feeling it was all worth it. 

Know that I would do it all over again.

Love couldn't fix me, but loving felt like it did.

I love you."

How long Kate spent in his study, she didn't know. She clung on to the letter like it was Anthony himself. She'd reread him so many times, that by the time a little knock on the door sounded, it was filled with tears.

"Amma?" It was Edmund, "Amma are you here?" 

Kate cleared her throat, but it didn't help, with a scratchy voice she answered him; "yes Neddy, I'm here."

"Can I come in?" He sounded hesitant.

"Yes, please do."

It took her son one glimpse to know what was going on, and with that, Kate had her answer; he was aware, he knew.

"You found it." Edmund said as he approached her, "Finally." He sighed.

"I did." 

"He has a way with words, hasn't he?" Edmund winked, her beautiful son lifted her up, he took away a bit of the pain with his cheeky smirk. He read her like her husband had. 

"You helped him." She concluded out loud.

"I did, and he made me promise not to tell you before you were ready." Edmund now stood next to her, and he rested her hand on her shoulder, "are you? Ready?

"I don't know." Kate leaned into his touch, his palm pressing against her wet cheek.

"That's okay."

"I miss him, Ned, so much."

"I know, I do too."

"He's perfect for leaving me the letters."

It was everything because, in all honesty, Kate knew he would never truly leave her. He couldn't, and this letter told her what she already knew deep inside.

In 29 years Anthony had become Kate and Kate was Anthony. He was there in their children, every day. He was present in his siblings, who checked up on her at least 3 times a week. He was there in all the pictures that were everywhere in the house.

He was there when she drove, switching to the next gear because he told her to do it sooner. He was there when she walked, looking at flowers everywhere, just like he did. He was there when she fell asleep, the memory of his scent still attached in her mind. He was there during dinner when they ate his favorite kind of pasta. He was there when Mary woke up screaming, because she missed her Appa, afraid to forget how he looked. He was there when Edmund told him he was becoming a father, looking just as proud as he had. He was there with Charlotte, when she dedicated her law degree to him at graduation. He was in Miles' music, in every note he wrote and played on the piano. 

He would be with Kate until the moment she died. Watching over her, completing her, being her. And as much as Kate cherished all of this, she just really really wished it would have been different.

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 7

This is a CHONKY BOI. THE BACHELOR 'PARTY' IS HERE PEOPLE.

This is by far my longest chapter and I had most of it written before I even posted the second chapter of this story. Makes me SOOO happy how pumped all of you are to read this, it has taken over my life. Keep messaging! Keep sending me asks! 💖

Would love to do little drabbles, memories - anything to do with these two (except spoilers of course)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: TW: INFIDELITY 👀 Angst, yearning, kissing, **18+ [no minors] SMUT** p in v (sex wrap it up) Oral, F & M receiving, language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

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Age 28:

“I just love her, I love her so much and there’s nothing I can do.” He was drunk and in a bad way.

“I know Fish, it’s tough from here but maybe when you get back you can talk to her.” He knew Pope was trying to make him feel better, but when he’d spoken to his mom earlier in the week and he’d heard that she was seeing someone- it had broken his heart.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting - she’d never promised anything but he had this hope that she’d wait for him. That she’d be there to greet him with the love he’d always craved from her.

“She’s with someone else, I just want her to want me.” If he kept going down this road he was going to cry. He couldn’t cry here. Not in this bar and not when it was crawling with other soldiers.

“I think you should just talk to her when you get home, Fish - things might change when you see her again. Or do the grown up thing, and move on.” He looked at him, regret and heartbreak on his face.

“There’s no one like her.” He said it more to himself than Pope but he heard it all the same.

There was a pretty girl walking over to him now, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi - I’m Claudia - can I buy you a drink?” She wasn’t Spills, but she was very pretty.

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

**Present Day**

The week leading up to the wedding was a blur. It simultaneously flew and crawled by. Schrodinger's week.

The dinner was coming up and with it a curious feeling was settling itself in your stomach. A strange mixture of desperation and acceptance. The acceptance told you that if Francis wanted to get married then you should keep your mouth shut and let him get on with his life.

The desperate, possessive part of you reminded you that he was your perfect match, that you shouldn’t let Claudia have him when he so obviously belonged to you. How would you accomplish that though? How could that be done without him hating you for ruining his wedding?

When you were sitting in the restaurant surrounded by the wedding party both those thoughts plagued you. They kept you quiet and pensive, present, but secluded within your own mind as they fought for dominance.

Benny sat next to you like always and you got the sense he was gearing up to make a move and you didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. Your mind was battling over that too.

Do I go out with him and try to get over Francis? Or do I turn him away, and keep pining over a soon to be married man? Choices.

Claudia was almost trembling with excitement, everything she said, everything she did was grating. It all irritated you and you felt the need to dampen her spirits. A malicious little part of you wanted to bring her down a peg. Maybe it was her attitude at the Bridal store. Maybe it was just plain old mean-spirited jealousy. With the dinner almost up, with the bachelor party still to come you couldn’t help it.

It was like a compulsion. The words crawled up your throat and the possessive, angry part of you had to spit them out.

“Oh my God Francis, remember our pact?” Your face was a mask of innocence - just reminiscing with an old friend.

Frankie’s expression changed then, from the same tentative joy he’d been wearing all night to something forced and fake.

“Barely.” His eyes were boring into you, the intensity seemed to be demanding you to shut up about it. While everyone else was still relaxed and unaware of the land mine you’d stepped on, you saw the look Pope was giving you, he knew.

“What pact?” Claudia asked with a breezy laugh.

“It’s silly really-” Frankie cut you off.

“It’s nothing, just bullshit we talked about when we were kids.” He tried to smooth it over with her but she didn’t like that. She sensed his hesitation and when Pope tried to engage them in conversation she challenged him.

“If it’s nothing, then Spills can tell me.” It was said with a bitter sweetness, she had seen through his avoidance and she wasn’t interested.

“Well, when we were in our early twenties - Francis and I decided to make a marriage pact.” You were smiling as though it was nothing and Claudia laughed along with you but you heard the edge in it. She wasn’t amused, and neither was Frankie.

“See honey? It was dumb. Just something dumb kids do when they don’t know any better.” He pulled her close but you could see the stiffness in the way she held herself. You didn’t expect his words to hurt you like that, and all of a sudden you regretted bringing it up.

What seemed like a good way to rile Frankie up was just a cruel little jab at a relationship that you didn’t belong in. A relationship that would go on despite you; in spite of you. You got quiet after that and you saw that he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The battle in your mind was over, and acceptance had won.

You quietly excused yourself to grab some fresh air, the shame at your ploy to ruin Claudia's night sat in your gut and you felt horrible. This wasn’t how you were raised, despite your feelings about her or Francis it was cruel to do this to her on the night before her wedding.

Fuck, now he’ll leave with her for sure. What have I done?

“Hey - thought I’d find you out here. You okay?” Benny had come out looking for you and you smiled at him.

“I’m okay - just needed a minute away you know?” He sat beside you and you tried to focus on him. On his handsome face, how tall he was. If you’d met him a few years ago you would have been all over him.

“Yeah I get that.” He scooted closer to you, until your legs touched and smiled at you. “Look, I know you’re close to Fish, but I’d really like to take you out.” He blurted out the words and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised oh!

He was smiling and he took your hand in his, he was looking at you intently now, making his move.

He was closing in and for a moment you forgot about your shame, about everything except Benny’s mouth. The kiss was soft, tentative. He was testing the waters with you and it was nice. His hand came up and rested on your face softly. Feather light touches on your cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

Objectively speaking, it was a lovely kiss, but it did nothing for you and he felt it.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your forehead on his and he sighed, the air moving the hair framing your face slightly.

“Don’t be, it was worth a shot.” he smiled sadly and you kissed him on the cheek. You both had your answer. The door slammed, breaking you out of your moment with Benny and you saw the back of Francis’ head as he stalked back inside.

----

He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to punch Benny, he wanted to knock his teeth out. He wanted to walk out there, grab Spills by the back of the head and kiss her until she finally understood what she meant to him.

When they walked in together his guts twisted up with rage, it clawed its way up his throat and instead of lashing out he ordered three shots of liquor to burn it away. He drank them quickly, one after the other.

“You and me, outside. Now.” Pope was dragging him away and he wanted to fight but Claudia was asking him what was wrong and he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one she’d want to hear so he let Pope drag him outside. He could see Spills staring at him and he couldn’t look at her.

“What the fuck are you doing right now?” Pope spoke calmly, but his voice had an edge.

“Drinking. It’s my bachelor party, I’m supposed to get drunk aren’t I?” He was pacing, the rage making him restless.

“Why are you marrying Claudia?” Pope stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” The question stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you think that no one can see it? It’s painfully obvious that you’re nowhere near as in love with her as you should be. You’re hung up on Spills and she’s obviously hung up on you.” He was trying to speak calmly and Frankie was pissed off all over again.

“It doesn’t fucking matter how I feel about her - she’s out here with Benny and I’m getting married tomorrow.” He was spiraling.

How the fuck did I get here?

“She’s out here with Benny, because you’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow. If you want to continue with Claudia I’m not going to get in your way, but get your fucking shit together and control your emotions. Figure out what the fuck you want and remember that Benny isn’t your enemy.” He approached him and clapped his arms onto Frankies shoulders. “Fish, you have to figure out what you want here, make it work with Claudia or let her go - stop this living in between shit. It’s not fair to anyone.” Frankie shook out of his grip, too upset to see reason.

He knew he was wrong, he knew he had no right to react this way but it was too much for him. All the little moments he’d thought they’d shared - what had they meant?

What does it matter? You’re getting married, she isn’t.

He ignored her gaze when he approached their table, Claudia was approaching him.

“You okay babe?” She was approaching him with open arms and he embraced her. Eyes closed - trying to feel something other than anger. He focused on the smell of her hair, on the feeling of being buried into the crook of her neck. She sighed loudly and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing and smoothing it out. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters babe, tomorrow everything will be perfect and we’ll be married.” She was whispering into his ear and it was meant to be reassuring.

He felt nothing.

You’re not her. No matter what you do, you’ll never be her and I have to be okay with that.

“I’m okay babe - see you tomorrow.” He kissed her, really kissed her. Tried to muster up whatever he thought he felt for her before and she responded but it was useless. All he felt was anger; she pulled away smiling and said her goodbyes. He glanced at Spills and the look on her face made him feel ashamed.

“Let’s get fucked up.” He said it with a fake smile plastered on his face and everyone except Pope and Spills cheered.

---

His hostility was astounding. He barely looked at you the whole night and you had a feeling it had to do with Benny’s kiss. You had to talk to him about it, a part of you hoped he’d be jealous and realize that you belonged together but maybe that was all in your head. Maybe he didn’t like his friends dating you, or you dating them but that didn’t make sense. Why would that bother him?

You’re the one getting married to someone else here, you dick.

Will and Benny were keeping up with him but as the night wore on everyone came to the realization that tomorrow would be a very long day if they didn’t quit now but Frankie wanted to keep the party going. He wasn’t belligerent, but he was being more aggressive than you’d ever seen. He told the boys that he wanted to continue drinking when they all got back to his house and they agreed but when you all got there it was obvious that Benny and Will were down for the count.

“I’m going to get these two into bed, can you make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t get too fucked up?” Pope was herding the brothers into the basement where they’d been staying. He gave you a curious look then, a narrowing of the eyes that screamed talk to him.

---

When you walked into his old bedroom he was sitting on his bed, bottle of alcohol to his lips and you’d had enough.

“Francis that’s enough, you’ve had too much and you’re going to be sick.” You were trying to take the bottle away from him but he was stronger than you and he was in a foul mood.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull that shit and then baby me.” His tone was vicious and you pulled back.

“I’m not trying to baby you, you asshole- I'm trying to make sure you’re not hungover for your wedding tomorrow.” He scoffed loudly at your words. “You got something to say Francisco?” You were angry now, his attitude was pissing you off big time. Your question set him off and he unloaded onto you.

“Oh I got plenty to say.” He put the bottle down and towered over you. “You fucked up Spills, you knew how I felt about you this whole fucking time and YOU were the one who shut it down. Making this stupid pact so you would be guaranteed someone who was crazy about you while you went off and did whatever and whoever you wanted and then bring it up in front of everyone like it was a joke.” The anger was burning away the alcohol in his system and there was nothing but raw honesty left. “And now what, you’re going to date my friend? So is it anyone who shows you attention except me?”

The expression on his face was angry, but there was a raw hurt in his voice. An old wound that he was blaming you for opening up.

“I have loved you since I was fucking fourteen, and you never gave a shit. You used me and you kept me dangling on a string but guess what, I am not a last resort. I have found a woman who loves me and you’re going to have to live with that.” The words were knives to your heart because for the most part they were true.

You couldn’t stop the tears at his onslaught of painful truths but underneath the hurt his words caused, you were fucking angry.

“You want to tear into me because I’ve been a fucking idiot fine, have at it, but you do not get to shame me for having a moment with someone who likes me. You’re getting married! Am I supposed to stay celibate and alone for the rest of my life because you gave up on me? I was waiting at the airport to tell you that I love you. That I know I’ve wasted time and that I want you.”

“Gave up on you? Are you fucking kidding me right now? So when I call to see how everyone is doing and I find out that you’re seeing someone - I'm supposed to just know that you’ll figure it out? I have been putting off finding someone in hopes that you’ll finally see how devoted I’ve always been to you. I am so fucking pissed off at you and you want to know what the worst part of it is? The fact that I still fucking love you. Even though I’m hurt and so goddamn angry. Even though I have her and I know she’s head over heels for me, you’re the one in my head. I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my fucking heart Spills. It should be you I’m marrying tomorrow. It should have always been you.” You could see the tears in his eyes now and that hurt even more.

Every single fibre of your being screamed at you to run to him, to wrap your arms around him. Instead you responded with your own truth.

“I wish it was me tomorrow. I know I couldn’t expect you to wait for me forever but I don’t want anyone else. Benny is sweet but he’s not you Francis.” You were well and truly crying now. Everything you’d been holding in came bubbling up, spilling out of you and there was nothing you could do to stop it, it had to come out.

“I should have kissed you back like I wanted to. I shouldn’t have been afraid, I should have seen it and dealt with my own feelings for you. I’m sorry Francis. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize how perfect we are for each other. I’m sorry I was too late and I’m terrified that you’ll leave me behind and marry her, and that I’ll be here waiting for you forever.” Your voice was cracking and high, barely a whisper at certain points with how hard you were crying.

His legs brought themselves to you in three long strides and then his mouth was on yours. Your tears mixing where your faces touched; pure adrenaline coursing through your veins when his hands buried themselves into your hair. It was nothing compared to the inexperienced albeit enthusiastic kiss you’d shared as teenagers. This was all-consuming. His mouth trapping your bottom lip roughly and biting softly to draw out a whimper. His tongue using the sound as the invitation to plunder the inside of your mouth.

He tasted like honey and alcohol, like the gum he chewed and tiramisu. He tasted like all the things you loved in this world and you never wanted him to stop kissing you.

He trailed his kisses down to the line of your jaw, the long column of your neck and up to the place beneath your ear and all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair.

“We’ve been so stupid Spills, driving me crazy.” He was whispering the words into your neck, his hands a vice grip around your waist.

“I’m sorry Francis, I love you - I love you so much.” The both of you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, fervent breathes as you kissed; both trying to make up for lost time. His wedding in a few hours was forgotten, his fiancé didn’t exist. It was just the two of you in his old bedroom where his first kiss had been denied.

You were rewriting that now.

His hands lowered and grabbed at the flesh of your ass roughly and you moaned into his mouth. He brought his kisses to your neck as he decisively pulled your dress up.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for half my life Spills, it was you I thought about while I was away. I would fuck my fist every single fucking night thinking about you letting me taste your pussy.” His eyes were dark with want and you gasped at his words, the alcohol and the honesty making him braver; the words were shooting directly into your cunt, making you weep for him.

“It’s always been you, look at what you do to me, what you’ve always fucking done to me.” He grabbed at your hand roughly and pressed into the sizeable bulge at his crotch. It was hard to form words. It was hard to articulate how you felt now that this was finally happening.

“Will you let me baby? Will you let me bury my tongue in your cunt? I want you to cum all over my face.” He was rubbing at your clit through your panties and it was like you were suspended in amber. Dumbstruck at his words, his confidence - his need for you.

“Yes Francisco, please.” You were gripping his hair frantically as he pushed you onto his bed. His big strong hands pulling your underwear down and tossing it over his shoulder. The same hands pulling your thighs apart to find your slick seeping out of you, all glossy and wet. He moaned at the sight.

“Look at that- so fucking pretty for me.” He made himself comfortable between your legs, grinding into the mattress as he studied your body. He kissed your thighs as he brought his face closer and closer to your clenching core. His facial hair tickling you as he trailed them up up up. You watched him propped up on your elbows, your hands automatically reaching out to run through his hair.

“Bet you taste so fucking good, like peaches.” He ran his finger along your seam, smearing your slick all over your lower lips. He was going too slow. You tried to move your cunt closer to his face but he smiled almost cruelly and held your hips down.

“My greedy girl.” He spread your lips apart and spit into your clit, you felt it sliding down towards your opening but he dove in cat-quick to lap it up before it went further.

His tongue was heaven. You threw your head back as he licked from your opening up towards your clit, over and over. “Eyes on me, I want you to watch me.” It was too much and you whimpered as he let the saliva drip from his mouth and into your clit. Focusing his tongue there, moving it up and down over and over and over. The wet glide of it too much and the string holding your sanity together was too tight, it would surely snap and let you float away soon.

He groaned onto your skin, his eyes steady on you as he slid two thick fingers inside you. Curling them in a way that had you tensing up. He could feel your thighs clenching as he scissored them inside you, stretching you open while his tongue pushed you over the edge. It was too much and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and gave it a long steady suck, you shattered.

He held you down and licked you through it. Lapping up the waves of arousal, drinking you down deep while his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a wet squelch.

You had to push him away.

“You taste so good honey, I wanna eat you for days, until you’re a wet little puddle in my bed.” He crawled up towards your limp body and kissed you roughly, his facial hair irritating your skin but it didn’t matter. Not when you could taste yourself in his mouth, not when he’d made you cum harder than anyone had any right to.

His hands were a blur as he tried to get his jeans down and you helped him. You could see your slick on his fingers, then his jeans and your hip where he held onto you. A little trail of you wherever he touched.

You frantically pulled both his jeans and his boxers down, his cock freed and bobbing between your thighs. You could see the sticky tip of him, angry and red with how hard he was and your mouth watered. You had to taste.

He was surprised when you flipped him over, the startled look on his face quickly replaced with a hungry smile. You took off his jeans and his boxes fully to lay between his legs. You rested your head on the strong muscle of his thigh as you lazily stroked him, the velvety skin of his cock encasing the iron beneath. He watched you with a look of rapture and his breath hitched when you pulled away to scoop some of your own slick from between your legs to make your strokes more fluid.

“You can’t possibly know how many times I’ve imagined this - fuck - give me your mouth baby, please.” He was thrusting up into your hand. You licked a wide stripe from the base of his dick up to the tip, circling it with your tongue. He groaned at the sight of you and he grabbed at the hair at the base of your skull to guide your movements.

You took the tip into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks prettily while he watched you, taking a bit more each time you lowered your head. You were ravenous for him, the soft sounds he was making, the control you had at this moment was intoxicating and it pushed you to take him further.

You took him as far as you could, swallowing around him as your nose brushed up against his curls and the tears leaked out when you let go to take a breath.

“Holy fuck baby, yes - look so fucking hot with my dick in your throat. Let me see you do it again.” He guided you down and you held there as long as you could before you sputtered and coughed, spit and his precum connecting your mouth to his cock.

“Fuck baby - so fucking good, if you do it again I’ll cum…” he left it up to you, taking his hand away from your hair and as tempted as you were to watch him come apart in your mouth your cunt was achingly empty and you needed him inside you.

“Next time you can cum in my mouth or on my face, wherever you want, right now I need you to fuck me.” You crawled up and he kissed you, he was frantic and he licked the spit off your lips and it was so primal you moaned. You found yourself on your back again and he was holding your thighs open while he rubbed his length through your folds.

“I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to pump you full of me, fuck it into you. I wanna see it dripping out of you when I’m done.” He was lining himself up and when he slid in all the way, everything was right in the world. This was how it was supposed to be, the thick stretch of him was perfect, you were so fucking full - your cunt, your heart - every part of you.

“God baby, you’re so tight and wet - feels so fucking good.” He was speaking into your mouth and all you could do was wrap your arms and legs around him. Incoherent whimpers and sounds spilling out of your mouth with his movements. Sweat was beading on his brow, his fingers traced your hairline almost tenderly. His movements are equal parts filthy and loving.

His thrusts were hard and fast, not being able to control himself. You heard the wet, obscene sound of them and it made you wetter. You raised your legs higher, bracketing his ribs while he snapped his hips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, love you - let me love you.” His words were curt and he wasn’t going to last long so you yanked the straps of your dress down. He leaned onto one arm, reaching down to rub perfect circles onto your clit while he took your nipple into his mouth. Your orgasm crashed into you out of nowhere and he groaned when he felt you clenching.

He brought his hand back up to grab at your hip roughly for more leverage while he fucked into you two, three - four more times before he was spilling into you.

He made good on his promise. He fucked his cum into you. A couple more shallow thrusts even though he was too sensitive and he watched himself do it.

“Look so fucking pretty like that, all puffy and full of my cum.” He watched as it slid out of you and down your ass onto the bedding.

Is this what I’ve been missing out on? Francisco Morales; sex god.

You were too blissed out to move but he went to work, taking off the rest of his clothes and then stripping you of yours. It was difficult to articulate how you felt in that moment, on the one hand this was everything you had wanted. The sex had been amazing, he didn’t just fill your body - he filled every single ounce of you. Your heart swelled when he tucked you into his side and covered the two of you with his blanket.

On the other hand, the postcoital bliss was wearing off and the implications of what had transpired was a weight growing in the pit of your stomach.

Your body and heart wanted to soar; a kite flying higher and higher. Your conscience was the string, and it was being shortened fast. He loved you, he still loved you even though he was engaged and he’d been thinking of you the whole time. You wanted to cry with happiness; with guilt as well.

The guilt was present, reminding you consistently that this man was supposed to be getting a good night’s rest for his wedding tomorrow. Instead the two of you were laying in bed, curled around each other. His spend slowly seeping out of you.

It was hard to focus on it though, especially when his skin was so warm under your cheek. When his hand rubbed at your arm and your legs were a tangle underneath the blanket. You couldn’t help but reach up and run your fingers through the hair matted on his forehead and he made it even harder when he captured the same hand and pressed kisses to your fingers. He broke the silence before you could though.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” He had a dreamy look on his face despite his words.

“I know. I’m pissed off at me too.” You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The scent of his body-wash mixing with his own sweat. You couldn’t get enough and he curled himself into you as you ran your fingers through his hair. Your hands are constantly moving, touching every bit of each other you could.

“We’ve wasted so much fucking time Spills.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, it sliced into you because you knew he was right.

“I know Francis, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You were scratching at the wiry hairs on his cheek, trying to map out the face you loved so much. He sighed loudly. “What's going to happen tomorrow?”

“I don’t know - part of me thinks I should pack up the truck, throw you in the back and drive away. Another part of me wants to forget this whole thing happened and follow through on the commitment I made.” He wasn’t holding back with his words or feelings and although they hurt you couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You kept quiet, at the end of the day the decision was his. “I have to tell her the truth. I have to tell her that we did this, I cannot show up there tomorrow and pretend like I didn’t.”

You could see the guilt on his face now, the implications dawning on him a little later than they had for you. He scrubbed at his face with his hand and groaned.

“How can I just break her heart like this?” He was spiralling. “She doesn’t deserve this.” You felt like an intruder then, suddenly the closeness wasn’t there, he was pulling away from you emotionally if not yet physically.

“What do you want to do Francisco?” The use of his full name snapped him out of his train of thought and he looked at you then.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you in confusion, as you pulled away from him reluctantly.

“I know it took me way too long to get to this point, and you have every fucking right to hate me. If you tell me now that you want to make it work with her I’ll support your decision. I’ll keep my mouth shut and we can pretend this never happened. I would do that for you because I love you, and I will no matter what. You tell me what you want to do.” The tears were coming down your face as you said the words and as much as it hurt to get them out you meant them.

You couldn’t stay here - you wanted him to make his choice without influence and he said nothing as you quickly dressed and walked out of his room, instead you lay on the couch in the living room, crying softly to yourself. Sleep was nowhere in sight and in a few hours, you’d know for sure what would happen.

----

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[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18 

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes. 

“2914.9 miles,” she answers. 

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head. 

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her. 

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk. 

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him. 

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing. 

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face. 

 “I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint. 

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars. 

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare. 

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her. 

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker. 

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly. 

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze. 

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly. 

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.  

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left. 

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple. 

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones. 

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends. 

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth. 

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave. 

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms. 

He’s going to miss this. 

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment. 

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier. 

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head. 

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy. 

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him. 

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this. 

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time. 

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow. 

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks. 

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out. 

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules. 

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them. 

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders. 

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him. 

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. 

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again. 

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands. 

She stands up and brushes her pants. 

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?” 

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them. 

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment. 

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up. 

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years. 

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand. 

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.  

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back. 

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours. 

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.” 

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets. 

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake. 

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand. 

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal. 

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down. 

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. 

“It was worth the wait.” 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

[bibbykins]

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her. 

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile. 

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son. 

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you." 

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine." 

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?" 

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter. 

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

 "If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?" 

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?" 

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!" 

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you." 

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-" 

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time." 

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?" 

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me." 

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me." 

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences. 

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that. 

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded. 

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

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[feverdreamfantasies]

The Birthday Gift

Pairing: Human!Hoseok x Human!Yoongi x Human!Reader, Snow Leopard Shifter!Jimin x Human!Reader

Featuring: German Shepherd Hybrid!Taehyung, Doberman Hybrid!Namjoon, Neighbor!Jungkook, (Jin to make an appearance later)

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Angst, Poly AU, eventual Smut, Producer!Yoongi, Scientist!Hoseok

Warnings: Brief mention of blood, Mention of Hybrid abuse, Some adult language, Mentions of a poly relationship between M x M x F

Summary:  “Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay.  I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

Author’s Notes:   This was an idea I’ve had in my head for a little while and I thought I would go ahead and start writing it. Also since this is the first chapter there’s a lot of background information in this one but moving forward there will be less filler and hopefully more story line progression. Hope you enjoy!

Next

Chapter One:  The ultimate Birthday gift             

Sometimes I wonder how I got here in my life. 

After nearly 5 years of being with Yoongi, I thought I was prepared for anything, but standing here in our neighbor Jungkook’s living room watching his sweet arctic fox hybrid, Sooyun, turn into the vicious predator she truly is; I began to question the choices I’d made that lead me here.

Let me backup a little bit to how I came to witness the scene before me. I was quietly having breakfast earlier this morning when Hoseok made his way loudly down the staircase that led into the kitchen. 

“Have you seen your boyfriend?” He asked with an emphasis on “your”, clearly perturbed with the man in question.

“What’s he done now that makes him ‘my’ boyfriend?” I say while taking a bite of my toast. 

For all the time I have been in a relationship with Yoongi, Hoseok has been with him longer.  The two met in their first year at university and began dating shortly there after.  I came along about four years later, back when I was a shy, young intern for the music company Yoongi was—and is still— a big time producer for.  

I had heard rumors when I first started there that he had a bit of a different romantic life than most. Everyone loved to whisper about the open relationship he and his boyfriend supposedly had. I tried not to listen to the rumors, but I couldn’t deny the big fat crush I had developed on Yoongi either.  I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest every time he walked into the same room as me.  And when he asked me out for drinks one day, all I could do was nod in response because I didn’t have the courage to give a verbal yes. 

I was nervous and apprehensive about possibly going on a date with an already taken man.  But my curiosity got the best of me and I showed up to the bar he had suggested.  He was sweet and kind to me. Being patient with my quietness until I warmed up enough to be able to contribute to our conversation.  

He was also very straightforward and honest with me.  

“I know there are rumors about my personal life in the office.” He stated matter-of-factly, taking a sip of his jack and coke before continuing. “So I’ll admit that I’m kind of surprised you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

I brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear, a nervous habit of mine that brings me an artificial level of comfort.  “To be honest” I swallow “I’m not really sure I was even going to show up.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” He said with his adorable gummy smile.

“And to be upfront about everything, the rumors are true. I do have a boyfriend, and we are in a serious, committed relationship.”

I raise my eyebrows at this. 

“I know what you're thinking.  So then why would I ask a beautiful woman like you out on a date if I’m already spoken for?” 

My heart speeds up when I hear him use the word beautiful.  He leans across the high top table we are sat at, so he can speak lower and not have the other customers at the bar listen in.  

“Hobi and I have always been open to the concept of a polymorphic relationship. We’ve tried in the past with potential romantic partners; but they usually ended up ghosting on one of us, once they figured out what we were looking for.”

“So why do you think I’ll be different?” I question finding some confidence in my voice.  Afterall, it isn’t like Yoongi is talking about some small, trivial thing.  He’s openly discussing with me the potential of starting a romantic journey with him and his boyfriend.  Journey being the only way I can truly describe it because honestly what if this actually became something, what do I say to my parents then? “Mom. Dad.  Meet my boyfriend Yoongi and his boyfriend--slash my other boyfriend--Hoseok.” 

Yeah...this was most certainly going to be a journey.

“Honestly, I’m not sure you will be.  But I like you, Y/N. And from what I’ve told Hoseok so far, he’s interested too.”

I snort at this response.  What possibly could I have done to get Yoongi’s attention that he’d like me, let alone know anything about me enough to want to tell his boyfriend.

“Up until tonight, I’ve barely said anything to you.” I state to the dark haired man across from me.

Yoongi shrugs at this like it doesn’t matter.  “People speak louder with their actions than with their words.”

“Yeah?  And what do my actions say about me?” I ask genuinely.

He doesn’t miss a beat with his response.

 “You’re smart without being pretentious.  You have confidence without arrogance.  And most importantly you’re kind.”

“I’m kind?”

Yoongi nods. 

“A couple of weekends ago I saw you inside the hybrid rescue downtown.  I was going to go in and say hi, but thought that might intimidate you a little bit.” 

He says this last part with a laugh, as my cheeks turn red from the fact I know that would have been true.

“I asked one of your fellow interns, Ilsung, about it.  He said you volunteer there whenever you can.  That you have a real soft spot for hybrids and their rights. Not many people are as compassionate to their causes.  And as someone who has had the honor to adopt two myself, I’m really drawn to others who want to make a difference for them.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m making a difference.” I say sheepishly. “But when I was a kid we had a family cat hybrid named Wendy.  She and I did everything together until they came and took her away when we were both 12.  And let’s just say that made an impact on me.”

When my parents were kids, hybrids were just starting to be introduced to society.  But years prior to that, governments and militaries had been creating and breeding hybrids for years as an experiment to get a defensive edge when it came to warfare. It proved not to be as promising as they had hoped and what ended up happening is they sold their hybrids and hybrid secrets to the highest bidder, which turned out to be a large corporatation.  This corporation in turn introduced cat and dog hybrids to the rest of the world.  Claiming that they were a step above your average household pet and could provide a more fulfilling companion experience.  Hybrids quickly became a hot commodity.  And the black market was soon taking off with their own hybrid creations of more exotic and “dangerous” hybrid breeds.  Soon the hybrids were beginning to outnumber humans 2 to 1 and fear of who they are and what they can do began to take over.

Laws were passed as a means to protect humans. Rather than create laws that stopped the unethical treatment and breeding of hybrids, they were created to limit their rights.  Not completely human but also not completely an animal either, hybrids fell in a category with many blurbed lines.  The laws state all hybrids must have an owner and must either be accompanied by that owner at all times or have a microchip implanted within the back of their necks that can be scanned to indicate they belong to someone.  Any strays were in extreme cases euthanized and in less extreme cases placed in overcrowded shelters and rescue centers, where they would more than likely spend the rest of their lives.  

For those who did get adopted or were bought by breeders, their lives may not be as lucky as those who did not.  It isn’t uncommon for those hybrids adopted to end up in underground hybrid clubs.  These clubs offer humans all sorts of sick fantasies to play out with hybrids.  This can be anything from deadly hybrid fight rings to hybrid brothels where they can use and abuse any female and male hybrids of their choosing. In my time volunteering at the rescue center, I have listened to stories I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemies to have to endure. 

“Wendy came into my life when on my 5th birthday.  My Mom and Dad had decided I needed a companion.  As an only child with parents who weren't able to have any more kids, my parents thought adopting a hybrid could be the next best thing.  But the year we both turned 12, is the year Wendy started to go through her changes.”

Yoongi listened to my story with great intensity.  

“Of course as humans we all go through puberty between the ages of 11 and 18.  This isn’t uncommon for hybrids either except their changes aren’t typically of the reproductive kind until later in their late teens and early twenties, but what they do change in is behavior.  Their animal instincts can have the potential to become more dominant, leading to aggressiveness and in some cases violence.

When Wendy and I were playing outside one day, a neighbor's hybrid wandered into our backyard where we were.  He looked to be some small wild cat hybrid, probably bought in some shady back room of an outdoor market.  He was around our age if not a little bit older.  He’s name was Yongho and he could hear our laughs from inside his house.  He asked if he could play with us, saying he was lonely being cooped up inside all day.  I was glad to have another person to play with so I said yes immediately without noticing that Wendy was apprehensive.  Her tail was flicking side to side and ears were slightly pinned back, but I thought that was only because she may be jealous of having some of my attention shared with another hybrid.  I chose to ignore her warning signs and suggested a game of tag.

It all seemed to be going fine.  At first I was ‘it’ and although they were both faster than me, Yongho decided to slow down so I could catch him.  But once he was ‘it’ that’s when everything would change to become one of the worst days of my life.”

I paused so I could take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself down.  I hadn’t thought of this day in a really long time and I was struck by the fact that I was so easily sharing it with Yoongi when not even most of my close friends knew what had happened.  Yoongi reached across the table and gently rubbed his thumb over my hand to encourage me to keep going.  

I cleared my throat.

“Because Yongho was a predator hybrid, a game of tag can quickly turn into a dangerous game of cat and mouse.  When Wendy and I ran off in opposite directions after getting a 10-second head start that’s when Yongho’s animal instincts kicked in.  As a slow and small human girl, I became easy prey to the hunter and Yongho began to come after me.  Naive to noticing that anything had changed, I giggled as I tried to dodge around the trees in our backyard to create obstacles between us.  And when I turned around to see how close he was that’s when I saw the predatory look in his eyes.  I gave a small but effective scream which in turn caught the attention of Wendy.  She halted in the direction she was going before quickly turning around.  I in the meantime froze out of fear.  Yongho slowed but didn’t stop moving toward me.  He staked his way closer in the same way you would see a lioness do through the brush on a nature show before she pounced on an antelope.  And unfortunately for me, I was that antelope.  Just as Yongho pounced with claws out, Wendy intercepted him and they both tumbled to the ground, rolling around and making animalistic noises I had never heard before.  

This got the attention of my mother.  Who once she came outside to see what was happening began yelling for my dad.  He ran out and grabbed me.  Easily picking me up and throwing me inside the house ordering me to lock the door and telling my mother to call HES (hybrid emergency services).  My dad tried to get Yongho off of Wendy when he had managed to pin her to the ground while I burst into tears once the adrenaline started to wear off.  HES showed up quickly, but not fast enough to stop Wendy from accidentally scratching my dad.  She was aiming for Yongho when my father’s arm got in the way and left a deep wound along his forearm which instantly began to bleed.  Because hybrid laws take all cases of violence toward a human seriously, HES not only took Yongho away but they also took Wendy.  My father spent the next several weeks in court trying to get her back saying she had scratched him with no ill intention but they wouldn’t listen.  The only thing they could offer was for us to send her off to a reform facility, where she would spend the next three years, in hopes that maybe once she had gone through the proper reform training then she would be able to come home.  My parents agreed to send her off, but 6 months after she arrived they claimed she had ran away, only to find out in the news a few years later that this reform facility was secretly selling desirable hybrids off to private sellers and the black market.  I haven’t seen her since.”

Things between us got really quiet after I told my story.  Yoongi continued to rub my hand before noticing that my eyes were watery.  Tears threatening to come cascading down.  He sprung into action and leapt off his stool scooping me up into a hug. 

“I’m so sorry” he whispered.  

I could hear the sincerity in his voice and felt overwhelmingly comforted within his embrace.  I thought right then and there that I never wanted him to let me go.  And I didn’t care if that meant I had to share him with someone else because at that moment it felt like I was always supposed to be his.

Shortly thereafter I met Hoseok face to face.  The three of us went on a date to a nice restaurant to see how we would all get along.  The date went exceptionally well, as did the next one, and the one after that.  After a couple months, the three of us went away for the weekend and discussed the next steps for our future.  It was decided that we would all move in together and start a relationship that would define my next five years. 

Looking over at Hobi now with his brows crossed and a mild look of exhaustion on his face.  I couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“He promised me he would come home last night so he could be here for your birthday this morning.”

“Yoongi is here.” I say. “Also nice of you to wish me a Happy Birthday.”

He rolled his eyes before walking over to me and kissing me on the forehead. “He didn’t come to bed last night.” He responds as he releases me.

“That’s because he came to my bed,” I say with a teasing grin.

Once we moved into this house, it was decided that Yoongi and Hoseok would share a room while I had my own.  I didn’t mind it much because Yoongi would often sneak into my bed once Hobi fell asleep.  Or if Yoongi was at the studio all night then one of our hybrids would cuddle up with me, especially Taehyung.

Speaking of which, the German Shepherd hybrid came bounding through the backdoor.  A smile on his face and a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hand.

“Happy Birthday Y/N!”

“I got you these!” He thrust the wildflowers toward me.  Tail wagging rapidly behind him.

“Thank you Tae.” I take the flowers from him smelling them in the process. “These are beautiful.”

He’s smile grows wider.  Taehyung was one of the two hybrids Hoseok and Yoongi had adopted before I joined their family. Well adopted was not really the correct term to use.  Hoseok worked as a scientist for the government.  And though they had supposedly moved on from the hybrid world, the three of us knew that wasn’t true.  Hoseok started working there right out of college.  Initially he was told he was there for human medical purposes, specifically in terms of medicine and vaccine studies.  However, while that was mostly true, Hoseok discovered one day by accident that there were also medical experiments being done on hybrids in ways that they would never imagine doing to humans.

From that moment on, Hoseok took it upon himself to make changes but he’d have to climb his way to the top in order to make any real change.  Now being the second in command to the head of the medical research team, Hobi had more privileges to know what happened in the hybrid labs but still didn’t have full command of what went on in there.  But that didn’t stop him from managing to rescue a couple in the process.

I didn’t really know all that had happened to Taehyung and Namjoon--our Doberman hybrid--while they were in that lab, but I knew that it made them respond to things in opposite ways.  Taehyung was clingy and loveable.  Namjoon was a little standoffish at first but if I played my cards right he could be putty in my hands.

“Where do you want to eat tonight?” Hobi asked.

“You guys aren’t going to make me a homemade meal.” I whine.

“If you want food poisoning then I would be more than happy to make you whatever you would like.  Or if you don’t mind eating until almost 2 in the morning then I’ll ask Yoongi what he wants to make tonight.”

I stick my tongue out at him.  I hate his reasoning sometimes.

“In that case, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“We all know that you’ll choose the same place you always do.” A sleepy Yoongi says with a yawn.  His hair slightly sticking up in the back indicating he had just climbed out of bed. 

He walks over to me, sliding into the booth of our breakfast nook and kisses me gently. 

“Happy Birthday Princess.” He says in his deep groggy voice.

“I’m surprised you're up already.” I state as I fed him some of my breakfast.  He takes a bite and swallows before responding.  

“Someone made a pretty severe threat of laundry duty if I didn’t show up this morning. And we all know if I’m on laundry duty for a full month, we will all be deeply sorry.”

We enjoy the rest of our morning with happy banter and cuddles on the couch.  With a momentary appearance from Namjoon with a quick Birthday greeting before he went on his jog.

As I flipped through the options on Netflix with Tae asleep with his head in my lap, Hoseok’s phone rang which he picked up and answered in his office down the hall.  Yoongi and I gave a brief glance at each other figuring it was probably from work before Hoseok quickly ran out of his office and out the front door as though the house was on fire.  

We look at each other again before quickly getting off the couch to follow him.  Taehyung whines in protest as he loses the warmth of my lap before climbing back onto the couch and quickly falling back asleep.  

Hoseok goes over to our neighbor’s house, lifting his arm up to knock on the door when Jungkook opens it with a “Thank God!”

“I thought you said he’d be fine here.” Hoseok says as he follows Jungkook into his living space noticing the low growls of Sooyun coming from within.  He hesitates a moment before seeing why Sooyun is making that noise.

He quickly gets his answer as he sees Sooyun with teeth bared at a cowering figure in the corner.  He realizes her aggression is toward his Birthday gift for Y/N.  While he knew that Y/N was easily loved by Taehyung and Namjoon, they weren’t necessarily her hybrids.  Tae belonged to Yoongi and Namjoon was Hoseok’s, who he adopted at the first chance after that fateful day he walked into the hybrid lab by accident.  So he figured Y/N needed her own companion and it gave him an excuse to bring home another rescue.

“Well aren’t you going to do something.” He says to Jungkook, calmer than he felt. 

“Me?  He’s your hybrid.” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Technically he isn’t a hybrid.” 

“Then what is he?”  Yoongi says behind Hobi, scaring his younger boyfriend in the process.  I stand beyond them watching Jungkook’s normally sweet hybrid looking like the true predator she is before moving my eyes to the other hybrid--or rather not hybrid--sitting in the corner with his knees up to his chest.  My heart instantly breaks at the sight in front of me and I feel the need to protect him.

“Hey! Enough.” 

My voice is loud and clear.  Commanding but not violent, just enough to get Sooyun’s attention.  A skill I learned at all my years volunteering at the rescue. She backs away and hides behind Jungkook as though she hadn’t done anything wrong to be treated this way.  Jungkook pats the hand she rests on his arm, clutching onto his shirt sleeve. White ears pinned back to her equally pure white hair.

I take that time to move to her victim. Taking slow movements making sure not to scare him even more. “Hello.” I say getting him to look up at me with his light grey eyes.  He has soft features but an intense gaze.  I reach my hand out to help him off the floor.  He hesitates before deciding to trust me and stands up into his full height.  He isn’t large but he is taller than me, about the same size as Yoongi. 

“Hobi! What is he?” Yoongi repeats himself looking from me in the corner over to his boyfriend.

“He’s a shifter.” Hoseok mumbles, hand rising to scratch the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“He’s a shifter! Okay.  I adopted our girlfriend a shifter for her birthday.”

It gets suddenly very quiet. I look back over at the shifter in question, his hand still in mine.  Yoongi is visibly getting angry, but still trying to remain somewhat calm.

“What the fuck is a shifter, Hobi?  Like a werewolf.  Did you bring home a werewolf?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Werewolves aren’t real.  He’s a snow leopard shifter.”

For the genius Hoseok actually was he could really do some dumb things, I think as Yoongi comes towards us and pulls me away but not with some resistance from the other person holding my hand. Yoongi drags me aways while also grabbing Hoseok by the shoulder to guide us outside.

Once we step into the front yard, Yoongi turns Hobi around to look at him but doesn’t let me go.

“You know you’ve done some stupid shit in the 9 years we’ve been together, but this might easily top the list.  I mean what the hell were you thinking!  Where do you even get a snow leopard shifter?”

“The same place I got Taehyung and Namjoon.  Just there was more paperwork involved and lots of background checks.  And possibly some surveillance on the house for a week or two.”  He throws the last part in quickly as though we won’t notice that he agreed to have us be watched by a government entity without getting our consent first.

“He’s going back.” 

“What?! No!”  This protest comes from me this time.  I don’t know what a shifter is, but I do know some of what happens in the labs and he isn’t going back if I have anything to say about it.

“Yes. He. Is.” Yoongi states, as though the decision is final and begins to walk back toward the house only to stop halfway when he realizes none of us are following.

“We can’t keep him.” He states again.

“But why not?” Hobi and I pout at the same time.

Usually if one of us goes against Yoongi we don’t stand a chance at winning, but if we team up together then things inevitably go our way.

“He’s probably dangerous. I mean I still don’t know what he really is.” He stares at Hoseok on this last point.

“Shifters are what the military attempted after the hybrid experiment failed.  Essentially, through their research they found that though hybrids are stronger than humans they still aren’t as strong as a real true animal.  But you can’t fully control or command an animal, especially not a predatory animal like a tiger or lion…”

“Or a snow leopard.” Yoongi offered.

“Right.  Anyways, there was a researcher about thirty years ago who thought what if you could create a breed of human that could, when needed, shift into full animal form.  Lots of people laughed at him for this, but that didn’t stop him from running experiments on his own before a top personnel in the government decided to back him on his research.  It didn’t take him long, about five years before he got his first successful generation of shifters. Listen, I know you don’t like it Yoongi and you probably think he’s dangerous.  But he’s been kept in that lab his whole life.  And I promise you that we have nothing to fear with him.  In fact, shifters are much safer than hybrids.”  Hoseok added as a last minute plea.

Yoongi  slowly let out a sigh.  “Fine. But…” he quickly adds before Hobi and I get too excited. “If anything happens to a member of our household because of him, then he has to go somewhere else.”

“You have my word that nothing will happen.”

I grab Yoongi and Hobi into a hug in my excitement.  “So what’s his name?”

“Jimin.”

[thevolturiarejustbetter]

quotidian- alec volturixswandumbasshumanyoungersister

so the reader is 16 (Bella's younger sister) and Alec was turned at 17 but looks older because back in his day everyone was nasty and barely bathed- not to mention stress and the labor-intensive shit kids did back in the 600 A.D

WARNING: Includes a made-up heart blood disease- it's literally bullshit so if ur a med student- go away

her ability is similar to Bellas. She's also human btw and this is taken place after breaking dawn. She's a shield but with Carlisle's help she's able to control herself to be seen or not seen in memories.

So obviously she spent time with Edward- who is not immune to aro's power- so aro can still see everything Edward has ever thought of EXCEPT for the things he experienced/thought of Luna. I know it's confusing so if u got any questions here the fuck I am. So basically Aro doesn't know Luna exists because girlie is trying to hide from him, but girlie is also only human so there's a big chance of her dumb sick-ass slipping and failing.

growing up was hard

having divorced parents was hard for everyone

but being stuck with a delusional neglecting mother, who did love them a lot, but acted like a lovestruck teenager all the time instead of raising her kids was very hard

Luna and Bella Swan stuck together- and are still sticking together- through thick and thin.

the two-year age gap was irrelevant because Luna looked out for her older sister in ways a mother should.

They both knew their mother loved them but it was obvious that she was not content with her life.

And her desired dream life would be just spending the rest of her life traveling with her boyfriend who made a living by playing with a ball and a stick. without being a mom.

Although Renee had never taken out her discontent in life on her daughters and loved them very much, it was clear to Luna that her life would be more satisfactory if she wasn't a mother.

So when Luna was diagnosed with the disease that would take her life away, she had decided that it was best to give her mother what she wanted.

Because the last thing any mom- who despises motherhood- would want was not only to be stuck with two teenage girls but also with one of them being sick.

When Luna was first diagnosed she was thankful that the disease wouldn't cause her to look lethargic all the time.

Yes, she looked sick sometimes when it got really bad, but it was just paleness, purplish heavy dark circles, and colorless cheeks.

That sometimes did the job of helping her older sister forget about the fact that her younger sister- whom she very much loved- was going to be dead even before by the time she turns 18.

Bella Swan loved her sister to death, as much as she loved Edward. But she couldn't help but force the Cullens to tell her sister about the choice of being immortal and living with her for the rest of eternity.

Then they would be sisters forever and ever right?

Wrong

Luna Swan did not want to be immortal.

What the fuck would she even live for?

If her sister were to be alone then sure she would happily oblige turning into an immortal oversized mosquito. But her sister had a family.

So even if she was going to die in the next coming month or even maybe a year tops- her sister would eventually get over her death because Bella Swan had a daughter and a mate.

So while her sister was in Italy, she ran away.

and the fact that she was also a shield, both mentally and physically, meaning that unlike her sister she wouldn't show up in anyone's thoughts unless she wanted to, giving her immunity to Aro and Edward's abilities.

She was human

a very sick human with an even more limited life span

but she was more powerful than her, now, vampire sister, who had forgotten basic sex ed which was now sparking a war.

The only reason she knew of the oversized child spawn of the two most awkward people in existence, was because of Rosalie Cullen.

Rosalie and Luna secretly kept in contact since her disappearance/runaway to NYC.

Edward thankfully didn't know about their activities since Luna was trying her best to keep herself hidden from Rose's thoughts and it was working.

No one knew where she was.

She never really liked the city and preferred to live in a more secluded area but just in case of her ability ever started faltering, because she is after all only a human, she would be around people and no vampire would ever expose themselves to a dying human living in one of the most crowded populated cities on earth.

While everyone was relieved, Bella Swan was irritated.

She missed her sister.

She wanted her sister to live the rest of eternity with her.

But she knew that no matter how hard she tries, her sister would never choose an immortal life.

So when the Volturi was gone.

And hearing from Alice after the clearing, about her younger dying sister being the soulmate AND the blood singer of Alec Volturi, she was determined to go to Italy, alone, and make them aware of Luna Swan's existence.

Renesmee and the Cullens would stay in Forks, but she needed to go to Volterra.

Alec Volturi would never let his soulmate just die.

And a soulmate- no matter who they were- had the ability to give eternal happiness to her sister.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT-"

"Bells are you crazy-"

"She lost her damn mind after giving birth to the next loch ness monster-"

Bella was now confronted by a living room full of vampires in disbelief.

They had just done all this for her and her family, and she was going to go back to Italy?

The Cullens were already walking on very thin ice and one more mistake would result in an entire execution of their whole coven even including Alic and Edward.

But Carlisle and Esma understood.

Luna was also like a daughter to them and they were exhausted from worrying about her well being 24/7 ever since her disappearance

They knew the Volturi did not have a care for individual humans, but they also knew that THE soulmate of THE Alec Volturi would be treated like royalty, human or not.

The only vampire they didn't trust was jane.

If Luna let her guard down she could easily be tortured by the sadistic witch twin who would refuse to acknowledge a human.

Not to mention she wasn't used to sharing her brother.

After all, it was always like this for the past millenias since they were apart. But if there was anyone in the world to make Luna Swan switch to immortality and keep her happy

everyone in the room, whether they wanted to acknowledge it or not, knew that there was only one person who had the capability

and that was Alec Volturi

they quickly came up with a plan

Renesmee would be staying in La Push, while Bella, Edward, Alice, and Jasper would be tracking Luna down.

Carlisle and Esme were on their way to Italy, but they would meet up with the other in France so Demetri wouldn't be able to get to them before they had Luna with them.

It was a risky plan

but Bella had enough

she was not going to let her sister just die

Luna was pissed. She had come back to her apartment after a grocery store run, only to come back and find her living room full of 4 vampires.

4 vampires with a mission to convince her to become immortal.

her annoying ass sister who wouldn't just leave her alone.

Her sister was even more pissed when she found letter exchanges between her and Rosalie.

She wasn't mad at her of course, but it was clear Bella was pissed at Rosalie for not letting her know about the updates she had been getting from her younger sister.

She was Luna's older sister, not Rosalie.

She quickly shook off the feeling of hurt and jealousy as she faced her now very frustrated and furious sister- who she hadn’t seen in months

If y’all like this I’ll continue this series instead

Also doesn’t the girl below vaguely match the description of Bella swan from the books? So if Bella had a sister I feel like she would look something like the gurl below-

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

[speedylightpeach]

A Decade and a bit

*Trigger warnings*

*18+ content*

It’s been about 12 years since I met a guy and ended up pregnant. I wanna say it was a choice, but it most certainly was not on purpose. I remember finding out, and being so afraid he would leave; telling my mom the same, just to have her blow up at him. Funny because now, I look back, wishing he’d have left right then and there. For the next 11 years it was bound to be hell; and all I can think is, how did I do this to myself? How did I allow this all to happen to me? How was I too blind to know I deserved better? I don’t know but still to this day, it haunts me, and unfortunately 60% of the time, I still don't believe I deserve better. February 2010 my daughter was conceived, honestly I was so happy, excited even. I remember hearing her first heartbeat, he wasn't there. I remember walking home with the biggest smile on my face, and feeling so stupid at the same time, walking around with this big weird smile on my face. She was a blessing. In the very beginning I decided I would raise her right, and try my best to build her up and make her strong. My mom always put me down, told me I couldn’t do anything. Well, she, that’s another whole different fricking story. Being pregnant was amazing, feeling baby move and just patiently waiting. I got lucky and didn’t even have bad morning sickness or pains or anything. Months roll around and these little red flags popped up but for some reason I was blind to them till later. I guess I just can handle a lot of shit. 6 maybe 7 months pregnant and we were walking somewhere, and i remember him like pulling me along and rushing me, and I was just so pregnant that I was getting stitches and it hurt, but he didn’t care cuz we had somewhere to be. I don’t even remember where, but the red flags came more and more, and I ignored them all. Not wanting to feel like I was an ass for thinking he was being an ass. He was an ass, and it only got worse and maybe I was an ass too, I don't think I'm innocent here, maybe we are both victims. I remember the day my daughter was born. I remember staying in Edmonton at his dad’s, doing the waiting game. November 23 2011, at 4:30 am, I remember waking him up and telling him that I was counting my contractions and I thought it was time. Now, after previously wishing he’d have left at the very beginning, this here is the next moment I wish we’d have separated and never turned back. Okay and first I have to say, this wasn’t one of those pregnancies where u end up going into the hospital ten times and just unsure. I went in once, around my due date to get induced, a week later, here we are. he looks at me, half asleep, and says “okay, well you go, and call me from the hospital if it’s time.” I wish i had walked out the door and let him miss it, sure seems like he didn’t even wanna be there. I have heard a lot of pregnancy stories, and I for one, had it easy. I went in at 4:30 am and had her by noon, with no complications. And while in the state I was in I sure would have liked to sleep, but here I’m looking over and he’s sleeping on the cot. Not enduring this with me, sleeping up to the very last moment. Just feels like the majority of these moments I look back and he wasn’t there. I thought the first couple years were good with the three of us, but I keep remembering things. Within the first year and a half of having her, I remember getting into an fight, and I remember him throwing a chair and being so afraid every time he would come near me. I’m pretty passive, until someone comes at me all aggressive. Honestly, this isn’t even the worst. Well, I’m not going to lie, in the first year or two with my daughter I spent a lot of nights going out to the bar, and he was pretty good about staying home with her, I mean even if he was just gunna sit and play video games all night anyways. I loved the bar. I loved the music, the way I felt so free and so good. Unfortunately, it got out of control. Maybe it had been so long since I felt the sparks of someone just simply touching a shoulder. A touch that didn't make me cringe, and I will tell you, if it makes you

cringe, I swear to god, go with your gut. Anyways, so I ended up way to drunk, and I ended up making out with the wrong guy. I remember feeling so good but so bad. I have a pretty good conscience, so I came clean. And boy did I eat shit. Well deserved I know, I crossed a line, maybe broke him, I'm not sure. I have never been more sorry in my life. And from that day on I basically quit drinking, we split up, kind of. I wanted that attachment so at this point I was basically willing to do whatever it took to get him back. To get him to see that I could change and i could be better. After a few months of doing these things I absolutely hated doing, he left and called me name after name after name. Letting me in just enough to get the good feels, then shoving my down in the ditch to drown, because for all i knew, that's what i deserved after what i did. 6 months apart, he’s living in Edmonton with his brother, unfortunately his brother was quite a mess at times too. Couldn't hold up his end, the bills were too much and my ex, well he needed help. So, he finally decided to let me back in. I remember the day we drove to Edmonton, it was February 2014, it was still winter and the winds were so bad, my mom didn't even wanna drive. It was like sign after sign after sign. The winds were like 100km winds, semi’s were blowing off the roads, and yet, I went. It was fine for a while, the three of us all living in one room, until one night my ex is at work, and his brother gets wasted and just starts getting so mad, clearly I just don't deal with aggression well. My ex came home and we ended up having to leave cuz his brother was on house arrest. He lost his job too for leaving to deal with our family crisis. We ended up grabbing everything we could from this place, losing a lot because all we could take was what we could take on the train with us. We managed to find another place, again all three of us living in one room sharing a house with a few Filipino people, they were pretty cool. The fighting never dulled or stopped. It was always something. I remember once being shown a Facebook account, with a Latino name and being assured that i had a fake Facebook account. The only thing was, it wasn't me. I will tell you another thing, a really shitty feeling, is when you're defending yourself persistently for something you didn't even do. Being told over and over again that your wrong when you know you're right. Being told I cheated with someone I never had. The landlord ended up selling the place so we found some roommates to move in with, another couple who had kids. These people were, intense to say lightly. Some what the same though, She couldn't leave without being harassed to come back home and deal with the kids. At this point I couldn't even see my best friend, because she had guys with her. I remember her coming to town and asking me to go to Red’s or something, and it was just such a fight to let me go. Are there guys? He didn't want me to go, and i remember swearing up and down that it wasn't his fault that I wouldn't go. He eventually did let me go, but when i came home it was assumptions and accusations. Seems like after this point every time i left the house, to go to work, to anything, I always walked back in to assumptions and accusations. I remember getting phone calls at work, with him screaming at me, and my coworkers just looking at me like I'm fucked. I wish I knew why I put up with it all. At this point I've probably been solely providing for my family for at least 4 years, since he lost that job. It was so hard to make ends meet with 13 dollars an hour and i just wore myself out. Sadly those were the days, i would ask my boss if i could stay longer, just so I didn't have to go home. This is where things really took a turn, because it wasn't just things I was doing anymore. Now its things someone else is doing, some stranger logging into his games and apps with convenient names to harass and make him feel bad. Which, I don’t know, I still to this day see as coincidences. Maybe I was wrong for not supporting him, I

honestly didn't know how. After all the times, I honestly felt like I would be lying if I said I believed it, and I had no one to talk to. I had already lost touch with reality. One day, the fight got so bad, I will never forget this day, it severely haunts me, and I pray I never get treated this way again. I don't even remember what we were fighting about, but it was bad, there were things thrown everywhere, glass smashed all over the place, my favorite things all broken. I remember standing in the kitchen while he picked up the weeks worth of garbage in the can and dumped it on me, and called me trash. And people wonder why I have no self worth, because I dealt with shit like this for too long. I broke. After the trash it was bong water, all over my Chili Peppers shirt stained with resin for life. I remember this was close to my daughters birthday. I was making her a cake and he threw that everywhere. I still have the video of the way the house looked. Whore, cunt, bitch, stupid. I pray that no one ever gets put down in this way. And fuck me, I still went back to him. Still allowed him another chance for what I don't know. With my mom and my best friend telling to leave, I justified it. Relationships are hard they take work, but hun not this much. Her birthday comes and he sits in his room the whole day. I don't remember the fight after that, the only thing I do remember was my daughter and niece in the living room probably only 4 and5 and he picked up my PlayStation and just threw it flat down right in front of them, and they looked so scared. At this point I’m yelling at him to get the fuck out. Do something to me that's one thing, I can take it a lot better than those poor little kids, whom had done nothing. As he was walking up the stairs I said his name and he turned around. I punched him in the face, and that was the first time I had ever hit anyone in the face ever. Its weird, I get to a point where I've had enough but then I'm okay and decide I guess I can handle a little more I don't know maybe it will be better, they say things get better… they didn't. I think it was 2017 when he finally moved back to our old town. Not long after I followed, I guess I just couldn't give myself the time to find something better, someone better. Ended up moving back in with him. This time, was the last time. This argument was horrid. Not as bad as having bong water and garbage dumped on you, but words have a way of sticking in the brain. Another fight i don't remember at all what I did, but I remember sitting on the deck begging my friend to come get me, when he throws a bag of roast beef sandwich meat at me and says my cunt smells. This guy has torn me down in every way possible. I honestly don't even have a clue as to how to rebuild myself. I wanted to leave the meat behind on the bed, with a note “ For when you start to miss me” I wish I had, but I guess I just didn't want to sink that low. I didn't realize how low I was already sinking. When he wanted sex that was it, he was either gunna belittle me until I just laid there and took it or he’d go watch porn and grope me while I tried to ignore it all. Honestly this is my biggest pain. I never want to feel what that feels like ever again. Lets be clear, he never once actually hit me, before he had pushed the back of the rocking chair and basically thrown me out of it, and this last time, he put his hand on my face and he shoved me. And I don't know why, but that's when I really broke. I walked out that door and never came back. We tried to be friends later, but it was too hard. He would try to kiss me and honestly cringe, to having to turn away to block a kiss u don't want. I so nicely explained how hard we tried and that we just had to let go. Spent a few months doing a lot of molly together. Before I realized I was sinking again, this time to molly. She felt so good. Gave me that feeling I wanted. Peace in my heart. No worries. No anger. Nothing. Peace. Just over two years separated and I honestly hope he leaves our lives and doesn't come back. I am sorry, that he misses

out on his kid, but I cannot fathom the idea of her going through the same tragedies I have. Today, I have anxiety, severe depression, mostly likely BPD, 60% of the time I feel like I'm drowning, or wish I was. I cant work, I hate going out for fear of people thinking and seeing me the way he did. All of those things he said have shaped the way I see myself and its so sad. One day, I hope I find my worth. And you, remember to love yourself more than anything else. I didn’t and it destroyed me. I had all the chances in the world to turn my life around, don’t miss yours.

[lavenderek]

So you're saying you don't think "underage" fic is gross. Is that what youre saying?

well, no. yuck. what i’m saying is, what exactly and specifically do we want to happen?

there should not be explicit fic about underage characters, got it. so what age can they not be under? 18? 16? what country’s laws regarding the age of consent do we prioritize? like, i think it’s gross that the age of consent is 16 in some places, but i’m an american, so i would, wouldn’t i? so ok, what if we hedged it a bit and put the age as like, 14? that way it’s not little kids, it’s all teenagers. but no, gross, 14-year-olds are children. fun fact: so are 16-year-olds. they are also children.

what about fic about two teenagers having a consensual encounter? should all romantic or sexual fic have to be about adults only? your answer to this may very well be “yes,” and that’s completely valid. a teenager writing fic might disagree. somebody who’s a big fan of a show that’s about a bunch of teenagers might disagree. should there be an adults-only section on the site? there’s already a “stop, you have to be 18″ box to check before you can access explicit fic, so how do we verify a user’s age? they can just lie about their age and click through anyway. you have to be 18 to make a youtube account and i’ve had one since i was 13. i remember very deliberately choosing a new birth year when it asked for my birthdate.

then you get to slightly greyer areas like large age gaps, or heavy role play between consenting adults. i have absolutely witnessed fic that’s clearly written to be CP, but it’s tagged as age play. so like, for all intents and purposes this is CP, but if you roll in like “hey, this is fucked up,” they can be like, “oh, so you read this picturing actual children, sicko?? you have a problem with two adults doing shit in the bedroom??? how dare you!!! don’t like don’t read!!!”

it’s kind of like on porn sites, how they make like nasty inc*st stuff but call it “stepmom” or whatever, like oh, they’re not actually related! sure, joseph, thanks for covering all your bases

so we can’t ban kinks. or can we? should we limit depictions of serious addictions or domestic abuse too? torture, or even body horror? these are generally accepted to be dark content.

i’m not trying to engage in whataboutism, i’m naming actual, relevant questions about shit that’s disturbing in real life (no offense to kink people who follow codes of consent and conduct) and can be incredibly upsetting to encounter online. shit that i can’t imagine wanting to read, let alone write.

these are the questions that we, you, i, people pro-a*3 and people anti-a*3, are all asking, and not a single one of us can or should answer them unilaterally.

so it’s like, oh, okay, so there should be no oversight at all? should there be no rules? no, obviously, that would be horrible, i don’t trust any of these fuckers to conduct themselves civilly. so there should be some rules, but not too many rules. that’s what we have now, and clearly the way things are now isn’t working because a lot of users are reasonably very upset.

should there be a voting system, and rules are set by a popular vote? should certain words be flagged and you can’t post the fic with that word in it? should there be a thing where when you post a fic, you have to select the ages of each character and that’s listed at the top of the fic? what if they age during the fic? should there be a flagging function, where you report someone for not using sufficient tags? users will find workarounds for all of this. you know they will. so mods will have to be very specific about the rules and introduce, like, a vetting system for it. which is a lot more manpower and a lot more chances for subjective judgments.

all of the above is why it operates on a tagging system instead. i’m gonna be real, i only go on a*3 to read comments on my own shit lmao, and even when i did go on there more often i never went in the tags searching for fic. so is there a blacklist function? is there a flagging function?

if there is a flagging function, maybe they make it so that if the flagged user has violated the rules, their account is suspended and their fic made private for the duration and until they add necessary tags.

cool, a compromise. but uh-oh, it turns out Mod A agrees that this fic is n*ncon, but Mod B thinks it’s just vague, not n*nconsensual, and doesn’t feel comfortable banning the fic. or it turns out User didn’t post anything flaggable, they were reported by somebody who is targeting them for some reason, or by someone who is more stringent about n*ncon than somebody else would be, like, it’s gotta be enthusiastic and verbal consent or else it’s skirting the edges too much.

it’s like, we’ve already witnessed censorship (please take this word usage gently, i know it’s touchy but it’s the word to use here) being a problem here on tumblr with their stupid nipple ban. there’s a double standard regarding whose nipples are explicit and whose are kosher for public consumption. people have to appeal their shit getting flagged and sometimes nothing gets fixed regardless. i’m sure other people are pleased that there’s less of a chance of them accidentally scrolling past a picture of a hard dick at work.

so you get it, this is a problem that’s more complicated than “all of x should be banned and if you post it there’s something wrong with you,” a belief you’re more than entitled to hold but can’t base, like, fanfic legislation off of. you get it you get it.

you get it, but like, what is the fucking deal with those “fandom moms” who go off on soliloquies about the days of old or whatever the fuck whenever this topic comes up? what about the weirdos who are like, “what’s next, banning gay fic????” yeah, if we allow gay marriage you can marry a tree, that’s how it works, thanks tiffany.

but no, the reason they do this is NOT that they think lgbtq content is comparable in any way to CP. the reason they do this is that this exact problem has taken place on every site that has ever hosted fic. and many previous sites did think lgbtq content was comparable to CP. it was categorized as adult content and hidden.

that’s why a*3 exists in the first place. it was to avoid godmodding and absolutism. it’s supposed to be more or less self-governed. i don’t want there to be CP on a*3 any more than you do, but i also don’t trust randos to decide what is and isn’t acceptable content. this topic is not new.

i’m in support of stronger government regulation in real life because it can be argued that certain actions and systems violate human rights. everybody deserves food and shelter, for example. the same can’t be argued in this case because some creep writing CP doesn’t violate my rights. i find it offensive and i don’t think they should be writing it, but my right to click the back button is intact. there is no institution making it impossible or even difficult for me to not read fanfiction. the creep could just as reasonably argue that their right to post what they want is being affected.

why is this response so long? is it because i can’t shut up? yes, but also because this is a complex issue and that’s why nobody has taken significant action on it.

people are also big mad.

i’ve never understood this impulse to see somebody not doing a thing you want them to do and assume it’s out of malice or incompetence, anyway. i don’t know anybody who volunteers for a*3 but it’s my assumption that given the choice to have us all pissed at them, or have us all not pissed at them, they would choose to have us not be pissed at them. it just seems like the reasonable reaction to have. and like, i’d be pretty shocked to part the kimono and find out they’re all CP-loving gargoyles and a*3 actually stands for A lot Of child abus3. that is the reason i have not been like, “fuck a*3.” because what are they supposed to do, you know?

there’s no simple or inarguably morally right solution here. the princess is in another castle. just post fic on tumblr, i guess? make another hosting site that’s exactly like a*3 but romantic characters can only be like, 21?

i actually think the legal age in the US should be raised to 21, not joking. your brain literally and biologically isn’t finished developing at 18. teenagers lack the world experience to make decisions that adults make.

somewhere there is an 18-year-old or a person who moved out and became self sufficient at 18 who hates this sentiment. there’s a teenager in an abusive home who would be intensely demoralized by the prospect of having to remain beholden to these people for three more years.

and there’s a parent who is relieved to know that their kid can’t be preyed on by army recruiters for three more years. there’s a person who got into a car crash with a teenager who misjudged whether or not they could make a turn who’s like, yeah, she could probably have benefited from a few more years.

nothing is as simple as it should be. i agree with you, but i’m not willing to pass blanket judgments with regards to actions that should be taken. and honestly, given how little i actually go on the site, i don’t even have a dog in this fight. so all my opinions on it are moot anyway.

(side note, if you are in an abusive home and you can’t make your own bank account, or if your bank account is monitored by your abusive parents, maybe try venmo? you can get a debit card that pulls directly from your venmo balance. a surprising number of places accept venmo payments, and this way you can save up money in secret.)

anyway uhhhhh seeya

[streets-in-paradise]

The Greek of New York

American Gods and Percy Jackson crossover - Part 2

Word Count: 2794

Characters: Zeus, Eira ( Vanir demigoddess OC), Wednesday, Shadow.

Pairings: Zeus x Eira. Platonical relationships of Wednesday's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption. Heavy flirting, no smut but some sexy teasing and sexual tension. Zeus being a classy hot shameless asshole. Mentions of cheating. There is age difference because she is statted to be young . Of course, she is +18.

Summary: The crew's expectations get crushed in their meeting with the misterious man while Wednesday struggles in his goal to make him join their side.

Disclaimers: Please, don’t take this nonsense seriously. It’s just a fun piece i wrote to satisfy my needs for Sean Bean as Zeus. @yerevasunclair​ is my big inspiration for this and encouraged me to post it. Otherwise i would had never done it because of my total lack of faith in my attempts of writing fiction. This is a translation to english so, i apologise for any mistakes. 

Thanks for reading and i hope you’ll enjoy it. 

The trip ended on the facade of an imposing New York City skyscraper. Whoever this Theo was, Shadow got the impression that they were messing with someone really powerful. He was surprised to consider Mr. Wednesday's vast network of contacts and the variety of strange places he was taking them. Within minutes they were inside a luxurious apartment on the top floor.

The man for whom they were received was exactly the opposite of what they expected.

" Wednesday!! I was waiting for you. I knew you were going to come since the first rumours started spreading. What took you so long? " he welcomed in a tone equally playful and imponent. 

" I had other concerns to attend to. I didn't wanted to come to you with empty hands, my friend" Wednesday replied

Shadow and Eira were stunned. Theo was not at all the old stranger they had imagined. He was a mature man, but not exactly old. Blond, tall, elegant, of a distinguished royal bearing and very attractive. They realized that they had been tricked again. 

" I see you didn't" they heard him reply as he looked at them with a playful smirk. He didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to any of them yet Eira couldn't help to get the feeling of his stare all over her. It was the first trait she noticed in him, the charming ways of his beautiful green eyes. Shadow was seriously regretting the bet he did with their boss. 

They were barely paying attention to Wednesday's attempts of formality. 

" Allow me to introduce you. These are my servants, Shadow and Eira. " 

Theo saluted Shadow with a strong, confident  handshake and kissed Eira's hand without losing eye contact with her for a single instant during the action.

 All she could focus on was the intensity of his gaze and she quickly forgot about Wednesday's warnings. 

" We know who you are. You don't need introduction." 

He was perfectly capable of noticing the strong impression he left on her and it pleased him. 

" Surprised, little one? I understand it.  You must have been expecting to see an eldery man of long curly white hair and a matching beard. That damn Disney movie keeps ruining the general perception of most people. It's a price I have to pay for refusing to join the new paradigm. Although, my wife likes it. It portrays her in a far better light. The motherly way in which she always wanted to be seen, it also does wonders for our relationship. Of course, it's not because Media wanted to be softer with us... Marketing choice. Disfunctional families, half blood bastards and murder in divine induced crazyness is not Disney s style. Not exactly kids friendly fun" he joked, trying to come out as friendly so she would be able to calm her nerves around him.

" She is one of my special maidens" Wednesday replied, taking away any chance for her to keep the previous conversation. “ I don’t have the original upline anymore but I had been thinking in rebuilding a new one for modern times. She’s the first I got so far but i’m making plans for more additions.” 

" Those beautiful horse rider angels, right? Your best idea regarding orders of servants. " 

Eira wanted to keep talking to him. Not only because he was handsome, a strange push made her feel unable to shut up. 

" Actually it was my mother's invention. She was the founder of the institution and it represents her partnership with Wednesday. That's why I got selected"  she told, adding more details to her boss's simple explanation. 

Theo seemed to be even more interested in her after hearing that. 

" I knew there was something special about you. At first i thought it was just your radiant beauty but now everything makes sense. You are a halfblood. " 

Shadow wasn't able to understand most of the conversation but the sweet, friendly attitude of that man towards her was pretty easy to get , as well as his intentions. 

Getting excited, Eira kept telling him details about her. 

" My mother's fields are love, fertility, beauty, witchcraft and she shares war with Wednesday." she told him like if it meant something for someone. 

"Interesting.... very interesting" he stated, looking at her in the eyes with a thoughtful expression. Since he didn't wanted to intimidate her, he changed his tone quickly " It looks like the nordics finally started to follow our business model... and they had amazing results" 

Wednesday was so annoyed that he didn't took a lot of consideration in his answer 

" Her mother decided to keep her at her side. It's not a common choice between our kind but what can you expect from a Vanir? It's the softer side of the family. The rest of us aren't opening summer camps" 

" You should. It ‘s  a wonderful business that keeps growing. Nothing is stronger than the blind faith of a child and it gets particularly better when a parent is involved. I don't even need to have my own, all the cabins of the camp have to put their faith in me before their parents because i'm their leader. Every year more and more keep joining and we have entire generations raised in our ancient ways." 

Shadow started to wonder if Theo was a cult leader instead of a mob boss. 

" Did you make a fortune with summer camps for children? How? " he asked. 

" It's a surprisingly profitable business, i told your boss long ago that it was the solution to all his problems but he still stands in disbelief. You can even adapt the format to your particular cultural tastes. Want some advice? Replace the whole “giant palace with thousands of rooms” thing with a hotel. It fits better to your tale than a camp. '' he replied in a very relaxed mood. He sat on a small , fancy couch like a king would sit on his throne and gave Wednesday a condescending  smile while lighting up a cigarette.  

" I don't have intentions of converting to the touristic industry. My business is war. " he stated, proudfully. 

"it's a shame. Time should have made you more pragmatic. "  Theo teased him after exhaling the smoke of his cigarette.  

Both of Wednesday's assistants were thinking about how different his way of smoking was to Czernobog . Instead of the usual disgusting smell and creepy vibe this man was classy, smooth and the smoke he left behind felt like a different perfume to each one of them. Both cases being pleasant smells they enjoyed. 

He offered a cigarette to Shadow first. He got used to that sort of socialization code in prison so it wasn't a problem to him. When Eira received the same offer she seemed to hesitate. 

" I don't smoke. I never got interested in the habit despite, or maybe because, I have a fríend who is a heavy smoker. " she said, slightly embarrassed. She feared her reply would upset him but he was smiling at her.

 It was like her answer was exactly what he was expecting. 

" There is always a first time for everything"  he teased her,  seductively. " Come here and let me show you"

The girl stared doubtfully at Wednesday, but she understood she wasn't able to deny his request even despite her boss's disapproval. As courtesy, she had to obey. She sat on the dangerously close spot the man indicated for her,  the arm of his couch. She had the impression that, if it wasn't for the presence of Wednesday and Shadow, she would had been on his lap. The idea didn't seem so bad. 

Meanwhile they sat in another less magnificent couch, they had to stand the whole thing. 

Theo put the cigarette between Eira's lips, he lit it , and told her how to smoke it. He wouldn't stop looking at her and he smiled pleasantly when she exhaled , laughing a bit when she coughed briefly. 

Nerves made her laugh as well and he caressed her cheek and jaw with one hand, reaching her lips and tracing them with his index finger. It was his way to show her how pleased he was. 

" Good, you did it so good. Not bad at all to be your first time, eh?" he told her, in a sweet but sinful tone. " You must understand, dear. I made you do it for a reason. Some like alcohol, some meat, others prefer blood. What pleases me is smoke. Since you are in my house, or at least one I like to use temporarily, you must smoke at least a little bit for me." he explained as he reached her waist with his arm. 

Shadow couldn't believe what he was watching. Eira seemed entranced by that man. 

"You are such a sweet girl, soo well behaved. Your boss must adore you. " he kept saying to her in the same casual and calm but lust driven way. For such an elegant man, that behaviour was openly shameful yet he didn't seem to lose his royal vibe. He was like a shameless king seducing the unmarried daughter of a noble friend in a feast. 

" Not really, I'm a disappointment. He picked me because there was no one else willing to do the job. " she admitted to him. 

" Don't say that, you are such a good girl" he emphasized the last two words. " Do you want to know something more? You have really pretty lips, it makes the gesture of the offering even better. Why don't you keep trying with that cigarette? I like the sight as much as I like the feeling. " 

Eira rushed to pick it again and keep smoking.

 Wednesday was done with their bullshit and interrupted them. 

" I would like to discuss our common problem instead of watching you degrading my servant." 

" She is a lovely creature. Is she entirely yours?" Theo asked as he played with the girl's hair. 

" She doesn't serve me in the ways you are suggesting. Our bond is only professional with hints of familiar feelings on her part. Her mother is an important member of my family. She sees me as an old uncle because of this , i really don’t care. "  Wednesday explained. 

Theo seemed even happier. 

" That's so sweet. You are adorable! " he said to her. " Aren't you more comfortable now? I don' t want you to shy away from me, pretty thing. This feels so much better"

" I had never seen her like that. Is she alright?" Shadow asked

" She is a bit overwhelmed. That's all. She is enjoying herself, you don't need to worry. I think she likes me as much as I like her"  Theo answered. He was in a good mood, ready to hear whatever they were bringing to him. " So, going back to our business. What do you want from me?" 

" War is upon us, sooner or later it will affect every single one of us. I expect to count with you and your family on our side. "  Wednesday stated. 

" We live in perfect balance with the new people. They don't touch our worshippers" 

" For how long? Can you trust in an impulsive, unstable young brat like the Technical Boy? Your children would be his if you weren't in the way. How much do you think he would be willing to wait if he hears about the existence of a camp full of bored kids untouched by his toys? " the norse insisted 

" Mr World knows we have territories they shouldn't trespass" the greek pointed out. 

" With all the respect, sir. No one is able to predict what the boy is capable of doing if he is angry or offended enough. " Shadow added. " I had been there, you don't want to be his target." 

" What do you think, darling?" Theo asked Eira. " Should i trust in their advice? " 

" The boy lynched Shadow on his first day of work because he wasn't able to get information out of him. He is unpredictable and he doesn't tolerate when things don't go his way. Based on what we know he can see the system you had created to deny him access to your kids as a personal challenge to him. Young people are his biggest fans after all, specially little kids and teens in the age range of your lands' ' she answered. 

" Thanks for your honesty. You sound genuine in your concern and your observation is fair. Still, it is not enough to convince me. The young brat doesn't scare me. He is nothing without my electricity, his wifi goes around my sky and his phones don't do well in bad weather. Your boss will have to do better. "  he mocked him, making her a participant of it. 

" If you don't join us now they will come for you later and you will not have a backup. Once they end with us you are the next one. They want the whole market. They don't care who they are stealing from " warned Wednesday

" I'll not risk my family in a preventive war against an enemy that hasn't offended me yet. All I can offer you for now is a team of our halfblood heros as a  contribution." 

" We don't have Donar. We need the strength of the thunder with us and you are the only one who can replace him. Even if the rest of your people doesn't join we could use the help of your bolt. "  

" You are asking too much and I don't see a benefit. I'm sorry, my friend, but i can't help you this time." 

Shadow was pretty lost but he had a small fear regarding the route the conversation was heading. 

" Please, don't tell me you are thinking of trading Eira for his acceptance of the deal." 

" Don't be ridiculous. Of course i don't."  his boss denied. " She is not enough. The minimum he would accept is the mother. " 

" That is so rude. Are you always so demeaning to her? She is a servant you should be proud of." Theo complained. " Actually, i got the feeling that she is the only one who really likes to be here. Don't you, Eira?" 

" I do. You are very kind "  she agreed

" Well, if he keeps being so mean with you consider leaving him to serve me. I will value you a lot more, I can assure you that." 

The girl smiled while hearing his sweet talking. 

“ I give you two months before your wife finds out and kills her. She knows better. We taught her better” Wednesday teased him 

“Don’t scare her off like that. We are starting to know each other!” the greek replicated.” Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. She is not aware of my every step and she will not bother us if i don’t want us to be bothered.” 

“I don’t wish to bring troubles on a married man, or to enrage his wife.It’s not my style. I don’t have the experience required to deal with that sort of situation.” she declined politely. 

“ So naive, my shy girl. I have plenty of experience. I would love to keep teaching you stuff.” he replied, losing the few glimpses of shame he could had left. “ If the Vanir lady is your mother  i’m sure you must be like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. All you need is a push in the right direction to make the wilder side come out” he assured. 

Suddenly and without even being touched, the girl lost the balance in her seat spot. She wasn’t able to explain what made her do it. She ended up exactly where she imagined before, exactly where he wanted her: spreaded on his lap. In any regular circunstance she would have been extremely ashamed but the irresistable charm of the man was stronger than her shame. From her new point of view she had an even better access to contemplate the magnificence of the god’s face and she couldn’t help to feel entranced by him again. 

“ Shadow, go to my kitchen and get us some wine. You can pick whatever you like. I would do it myself but now i have this princess getting comfortable over here.”  she heard him requesting to her co worker. 

 During the rest of his excharge with Odin Zeus kept Eira on his lap, encouraging her to drink a few sips of wine from his own glass and keeping himself entertained messing with her without paying too much attention. He told him he was going to consider his idea just to get rid of him but he wasn’t on board with it. 

He would had kicked him out far sooner if he wouldn’t had picked an interest in his girl. 

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Playing With Fire

Summary: Sure Tom is twice the readers age, but she's tired of being treated as some naive little thing. When she finally confronts Tom she soon finds out that she's playing with fire.

Word Count: 2780

Rating: v spicy, deff 18+

Authors note: almost finished reposting all my tom stories! woohoo! 

♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡

The interviewer was nearly beaming, “So in the last trailer, there was quite the scene between you and Tom”. Instantly you smiled, knowing exactly what scene she was referencing. Without answering the question you teased, “That was in there for like a split second, how did you all pick up on it?”.

Anthony intervened, “Because it was you and Hiddleston getting it on...that’s all the world could ask for!”. The crowd ate up Anthony’s response, cheering wildly for him. Finally Tom spoke up, “I didn’t know our kiss had the ability to save an entire planet (y/n)”.

Turning to him you nodded your head, “I don’t know, it was a pretty good kiss”. While Tom tried to hide a blush, all the fans went wild again. Unable to resist you added, “I mean..am I wrong here or?”.

That caused you and all of your castmates to erupt with laughter. Evans shimmied a little bit, “Ohh (y/n) I think his inability to answer the question means it was”. You didn’t know who was more excited, the audience or the interviewer.

Quickly she added, “ I think the chemistry between your characters is quite prevolevent, we see sort of a build up in the last film and now it seems to be exploding”. Hoping you weren’t alone with the millions of dirty jokes filling your mind you turned to Sebastian, and the look on his face made you realize you weren’t the only one.

Anthony was more blunt, “Y’all are getting very creative with phrasing nowadays…”. The interviewer smiled, and she was nearly blushing herself. You laughed a little, “I was afraid I’d been the only one picking up on the double meanings here”.

Reeling you all back in as if you were children Tom finally spoke up. His voice was soft, “No other character has had an immediate effect on Loki in the way (y/n)’s character has. I think Taiki did a wonderful job in the last film not only introducing her, but almost showing her through Loki’s eyes at some points”.

He finished his sentence with a warm smile as he held your gaze. You smiled too, “Working with Taiki was amazing, I think he’s the reason why my character was able to flourish in the way she did. The response I’ve gotten from fans is just incredible”.

Evans made a face, “That was sweet, but neither of you answered the question. Let’s be real, Loki wants to smash”. Once again the entire room, the stage included, was filled with laughter.

Chris patted Tom’s shoulder, “I mean sorry bro but I’m right aren’t I?”. As if on cue the entire audience shouted back “yes” to Chris, only encouraging him. An eager hush fell over the room as everyone waited to see how you and Tom would respond.

Tom adjusted his glasses, “I mean..that’s one way to put it Chris. I’d much prefer to say that the desire from Loki’s side  is definitely there, but he’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s another internal battle Loki has with himself; to indulge in his feelings or remain closed off”.

Chris rolled his eyes at Tom’s nearly poetic response, but soon found himself smiling. All eyes turned to you, waiting to see your take on things. You saw hundreds of phones in the audience, all recording your next words.

“While I feel that my character is complex, and still developing on screen, I think she has more freedom. While she shares having a rough past with Loki, she uses hers as motivation to not waste any of her present. Chris put it beautifully, she wants to smash”.

It was so entertaining to see everyone's faces during your heartfelt answer, and the watch their reactions change completely. Tom was shaking his head but there was a clear smirk across his face.

The panel went on and you and your castmates continued to enjoy yourselves. With the movie coming out in a couple days, everyone was less stressed about having to keep secrets. You loved teasing Tom Holland about his spoiling, but you could relate to his stress.

After the panel had finally finished you were all moved to a waiting room. Instantly Evans asked, “So what are we all doing later?”. Everyone began throwing out different plans, naming certain bars and clubs, but Tom was silent.

Quietly you asked, “Are you seriously not going out with the group?”. He laughed softly before turning his head towards you. He whispered back, “Love I hate to disappoint but-”. Maybe it was because of his last breakup, but he’d been in a funk.

You didn’t even let him continue, “Fine if you’re not going out then I’m at least not letting you stay in alone”. Before he could protest Chris repeated over the final plans for tonight, the group reaching their consensus.

You smiled, “I’d love to see what drunk shenanigans you all get into, especially you Chris, but I think I’m tapping out tonight. Rain Check on making horrible decisions we’ll all regret in the morning?”.

Chris raised one of his eyebrows as he tried to figure out why you’d say no, sure you weren’t the biggest drinker but you’d always been down to come along. After finally putting things together he grinned, “Sure thing kid, I have a feeling you’re gonna enjoy yourself anyways”.

While the group continued to talk about what tonight would entail, you continued to hold Chris’s gaze. When he knew no one else was looking he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and mouthed, “finally”.

Knowing exactly what he’d meant you rolled your eyes overdramatically mouthing back, “Fuck off”. Chris laughed it off, knowing full well that you were just joking. He was one of your closest friends, and he knew nearly everything about you.

Mundane things like your favorite color and time of the year, but more interesting things like your turn offs’ and ons’, and especially the fact that you had a major crush on Tom Hiddleston.

Preparing for tonight everyone went their separate ways, different security guards escorting everyone to their rooms and such. As the room became empty Tom turned to you, “Love are you sure you don’t want to go out with the rest of the group?”.

You smiled, “One can always get drunk, but spending a night discovering what the Tom Hiddleston thinks is fun is a once in a lifetime opportunity”. Once again he tried to hold back a smirk, but couldn’t.

“Hate to disappoint but my night is going to begin in my hotel room”. You didn’t back down, infact Tom had no idea how that was all you’d ever wanted to hear. Boldly you teased, “Normally that's where a night ends”.

It felt good to see him laugh, especially if it was from something you’d said. As the guards let you both to the elevators he softly said, “Darling you are trouble”. You watched him bite his lip, and you thought you were going to explode right then and there.

Within a minute or two you were in his room, a huge fucking bundle of nerves but trying to mask it. As he closed the door you asked, “So let me guess, we start the night off with some tea?”.

He chuckled softly, “I was thinking wine”. You gasped while placing a hand over your heart, causing him to laugh once again from your teasing. Tom sat down on the bed and began calling room service.

While you waited you continued to look around the room, well really it was more of like a mini apartment. Something you’d never get used to was the rooms marvel put you all up in, it was much more luxurious than needed.

Tom’s drink choice only made your nerves only worse. He’d been acting as if this was going to be some boring night, but here you were dressed to the nines in his hotel room about to order a bottle of wine.

After you heard him hang up the phone you turned back around to face him. With fake casualness you asked, “What's next on the agenda?”. You were starting to think you had no idea where this night was going to go.

Tom began taking off his tie, “First I’m getting out of this bloody suit”. For a moment you blinked, pretty sure you were just dreaming at this point. After realizing you were staring you nodded your head.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it hun”. With that you stepped out of your heels and began taking off your jewelry. By now his button up was hanging loosely from his body, “Well you look ravishing”.

You were leaning against one of the bureaus, while he still sat down on the bed. You felt lighter now with most of your outfit off, “I’m on to you Tom, and your whole gentleman act”. He raised his eyebrows at you, still playing dumb.

“Anything leaving that pretty mouth of yours is trouble, but the word ravishing? Makes a girl feel all kinds of things”.

Slowly Tom’s tongue ran over his lips, before he bit his bottom lip altogether. You heard a knock on the door but before you answered it you repeated, “Trouble”. Tom never felt more connected to Loki than in this exact moment.

He was having his own internal struggle right now; to finally let you know how he feels, or to fight back the most intense feelings of desire he’s ever experienced. Throughout this entire night he’d slowly been losing; inviting you up to his room, ordering wine for you both, eyeing you like you were a meal, but he couldn’t help himself.

It didn’t help either that you’d been teasing him nonstop, it was like you were begging him to make a move. Leaning forward while taking off your shoes giving him a perfect look at your cleavage, teasing him about where a good night ends, it was all getting to him.

After tipping the hotel staff you entered back into the room, “Alright Hiddleston, let’s get down to it”. You’d pulled him out of his thoughts, causing him to finally look back up at you. Walking towards him you placed down the two glasses on the nightstand, still holding the bottle in your hands.

Tom was apprehensive, “And what exactly is it?”. You wiggled your eyebrows making him smile. After you both laughed you got serious, “This funk you’ve been in. Is it because your last rela-”.

He shook his head, his ex was the last thing he’d been thinking about. She’s left his mind months ago, and hadn’t entered his thoughts since. You on the other hand had nearly consumed him.

The only thing that stopped him was that he was nearly twice your age, you were only twenty-three. You were young, playful, a complete tease, but the worst part was that your qualities weren’t just skin deep.

You were also everything he’d ever wanted emotionally; always so concerned about your friends well being, empathetic, incredibly funny, so wonderful to your fans, and somehow much wiser than most people his age.

Getting up from the bed you began to pour yourself a glass, “Look, you can get tipsy and tell me what’s wrong or you can tell me when you’re sober and skip all the awkwardness of the morning after”. He shook his head, if you wanted honesty he’d give it to you.

“You sure you want the truth (y/n)?”. You nearly spit out your wine, was he being serious? Sarcastically you asked, “What can I not handle the truth?”. Your reaction caused Tom to shake his head.

“Darling, I think you’re being a little naive. You still have some-”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, he was playing the age card. Sure you were younger, but hey you were older than Tom Holland!

You shook your head, “Oh so I’m too young and innocent now? What could you possibly have to say that my fragile little ears can’t handle?”. You could feel the moment escalating, especially with the look in his eyes.

His voice was sultry, “Oh love you’d be surprised”. You wanted to doubt him but the current look on his face sent shivers down your spine. Trying to regain your confidence you said, “Then surprise me”.

Tom got off of the bed completely, and started walking around the room. His tie had been loosely hanging around his neck but now he’d gripped it in his hands. It was like a prop, “For starters, you’re too seductive for your own good”.

God how did he make sex sound like shakespeare? Your eyes widened, “Tom what does that even mean?”. Sighing he ran his hands through his hair, he was trying to find the words. He looked to you again, “Do you have any idea of your affect on me? How flustered you make me in front of thousands?”.

As he continued he groaned, “God it just makes me want too-”. He stopped himself mid-sentence, knowing that he was going to shift the entire mood if he continued. By now he was standing in front of you, only inches away physically by a sea away mentally.

You looked up at him, “Makes you want to want? What does it make you want to do to me?”. He’d told you that you were playing with fire but you were calling his bluff. His voice was deeper now, “Little girls shouldn't play with fire”.

That sentence went right to your core. The thing was that Tom looked like he was enjoying himself while saying it, it was the most blissful he’d been in months. You licked your lips, “Are you afraid you’re going to take advantage of me somehow? I’m twenty-three years old Tom”.

As you continued you let one of your hands trail up your body, “You treat me like I’m some innocent fragile little girl, but I’m not as vanilla as you think”. Your response only seemed to amuse him more.

“Have you ever considered that I like that you’re older than me? I don’t want some little boy, I want a man. I want someone to take control, and satisfy my needs”.

His breathing was deeper now, any control he’d been clinging on to had now vanished. Leaning forward he placed his hands on either side of you, almost trapping your body. His voice was much deeper now, “Why don’t you really tell me what you want me to do”.

You leaned forward, “What? That I want you to fuck me like a real man? Pin me down and take me? I don’t know Tom, I’m so fragile and innocent I might break”. Your smirk was the largest it had been all night.

He let his hand trail softly down your cheek before gripping your chin tightly. Tom used his grip to tilt your head up and hold it firmly in place, “You little minx”. You licked your lips, you desire showing now more than ever.

“Look at you now, licking your lips inches from my throbbing cock. Is that what you want love, my cock wrapped around those pretty lips?”.

You nodded your head, convinced that if you tried to speak you’d just moan. Shaking his head he groaned again, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked. He’d never had someone look up at him so intoxicated before, and he imagined he’d been looking the same way at you.

Tom was letting himself go, finally indulging in ways he’d wanted too ever since your first scene together. He clicked his tongue, “As much as I’d love to see that, I think some payback is in order”.

To your surprise Tom got down on his knees before you, his face now level with yours. Slowly his hands ran up your thighs and pushed back your skirt, “Well darling, let’s hope you’re not this quiete for much longer”.

As you watched the smirk form upon his lips you knew his whole gentlemen act had finally been through completely out the door. You started to pull your dress off completely, “Be careful what you wish for babe”.

Using his grip on your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth. His tongue darted out of his mouth and swept across his bottom lip, “And I’m trouble?”. Together you laughed for a moment, thankful for how effortless this all felt.

Tom was amazed how you could so easily flow from making him smile and laugh to wanting to rip your clothes off and pin you against the nearest wall. He decided that he didn’t want to waste anymore time thinking, and finally start doing.

♡ thank you for taking the time to read this, you’re a babe♡

Forever tags: aka some amazing people: @moonlessnight14 @sexyvixen7 @angieptt​ @painkiller80 @becca-dolan @team-heichou @thatpeachybandgirl​ @allthesesonsobitches @buckybarneshairpullingkink @couldabeenamermaid​ @taeeemin@littleredstarfish @nali67​ @only4wakingup​ @mcenziehughes​

*if there is a line through your name that means that for some reason it won’t allow me to tag you*

*forever tags are always open*

[saladejin]

Solace (M) | 01

4-part Jimin x Reader | fantasy au, school au, magic user!Jimin | Fluff, angst (basically unresolved), smut with some plot 

Summary: Why not spice up your high school life with a teleporting boy of your very own? You find yourself not having a choice in the matter.

While he figures out how to fix his mistakes, strap yourself in for an adventure to remember…

Warnings: Kat’s early ass writing, nothing smutty in the first chapter (bear with me, it gets there lol). 

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.7k - first chapter

A/N: Okay, okay. As much as I wanted to edit the absolute shit out of this, and make it 10x better, I stopped myself. This was one of the first smut pieces I ever wrote, and it’s quite old, but I really wanted to have some of my older/first-time writing on the blog so that I could have something to look back on and - better yet - improve from! 

I want to look back on it and just think ‘wow, this is absolute trash’, but in a good way. Ya know?

I apologise in advance, yet at the same time I’m hoping some of you out there might find some enjoyment :) 

»»————- << masterlist | next >> ————-««

  If someone had asked you if you believed in magic a year ago, you would have answered ‘no’ without batting an eyelid. It was simply illogical and plain wrong on so many levels to think greater forces out there actually existed. 

Children’s storybooks, fairy-tales, and fictional novels were already out there appealing to the fantasy-ridden minds of the human race, to name a few. So nope, you would never allow yourself to foolishly believe in such silly myths.

Or so you thought. 

Reader’s POV - 2nd Person

“As you can see, this historical movement meant…”

You sighed. Over time, drowning out your teacher’s monotonous voice had become much too easy for your liking. You listened to the whispers and soft giggles of your classmates as they all mucked around and paid little to no attention to the lesson taking place.

The year is only halfway done. Should I consider transferring schools?

This place had taught you nothing for the five years you had been here. High school was something that was originally meant to be an ocean of opportunities waiting to be discovered, but now it seemed like a mere wasteland holding no promise for the future; well for your future anyway.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Your teacher droned, looking at everyone over the rim of his glasses as if daring someone to waste his precious time.

Yeah, what’s the point of being here?

You tapped your pencil absent-mindedly against the lined paper in front of you.

“(Y/n),” Your class friend whispered to you from the seat beside yours. You raised an eyebrow at her with a bored eye roll as she pursed her lips guiltily and glanced at your tapping pencil.

“Do you know what he’s been talking about for the last half hour?”

You almost laughed. “Does anyone?” came the scoff from your lips almost instantly. Your friend stifled her smile with one hand so she didn’t draw any unwanted attention to the two of you.

“You’re right, but I also want to pass this exam coming up. How are we meant to do well here?” She asked with a light growl edging her tone. You could only shrug in response, because the answer was also lost on you and had been for as long as you could remember.

“Tell you what, we should get everyone together and come up with a plan to get him fired,” Your eyes lit up, hands suddenly clasping together as the brilliant idea blurted from your mouth. Your friend looked like she was about to whoop for joy and agree with you, but an obnoxious voice cut her off rudely.

“Miss (Y/n), do you have something to share?” The teacher wore his stern expression, eyes flashing with irritation as he stared you down with menace. You felt the anger burning hotter and hotter the more you looked at his punchable face.

Oh, I’m about to tell you exactly what we were talking about you piece of shit.

You were about to stand up and lay it on him, but something interrupted your outburst. Your classmates shifted their attention from you to the strangely flickering lights on the ceiling. Everyone fell silent as the excitement from seeing their teacher get sassed died down, the atmosphere was eerie as the room suddenly became very chillingly cold.

“Who’s playing a prank? Show yourselves before you get punished even worse,” The teacher shouted into the stagnant air. Nobody answered to him or his threat.

“What’s going on? Is it that kid from the other class messing with us again?” Your friend clicked her tongue while gradually moving to cling onto your arm. You barely felt her touch due to the intense amount of goosebumps travelling along your exposed skin. Students begun to question things loudly and the nerves shook their voices as the weird power outages continued.

“It’s probably just the building’s power. Can we get help from the office?” One boy asked your scowling teacher after a few minutes.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” The bald man shook his head and finally walked towards the closed door of the classroom to check for any tricksters.

Before the boy or anyone else could make a move to get help, the flickering stopped and the temperature seemed to return to normal. Everyone exchanged confused glances until the weirdest spectacle of all occurred right near the teacher’s desk.

A body appeared from literal thin air and landed heavily on the carpet below. There was a muffled groan from the figure and the room filled with gasps and shouts of alarm as the person sat up straighter. It was definitely male, seemingly Asian and probably the same age as you. You blinked your eyes rapidly as you tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“You! Were you playing this prank?” Your teacher screeched as he turned around. He hadn’t seen what had happened, but had heard everyone’s shock and responded immediately.

You watched in amazement as the randomly appearing boy lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion. When you looked closer, you could see his chocolate brown eyes gleaming with fear.

He knows just as much as we do…how did this happen?

You being the courageous person you were, got to your feet and stepped around the table tentatively. You didn’t want to approach him just yet because you didn’t know if he was dangerous. Your teacher continued to yell at the boy as you drank in his beautiful night-black hair and perfectly even complexion. You realised just how attractive this person was, but those thoughts had to be swept aside as you recognised the pure terror flooding his gaze.

“I don’t know what’s happening! Please help me, I don’t know where I am,” The boy finally spoke. Well, he spoke, but in flawlessly fluent Korean…

What the-

Your classmates threw even more concerned glances at one another while your teacher just stood still, fully stunned. They hadn’t understood a single word, but you had.

“(Y/n) sit back down, he could hurt you!” Your friend hissed, and you jumped when she grasped at the bottom of your school dress to bring you backwards. The movement caused the strange but beautiful boy to whip his head around in your direction. He was only wearing a casual white t-shirt and loose grey pants with no shoes, but everything looked a little dirtied. How exactly had he appeared here of all places? By what method?

“Hello,” You murmured shakily in his language and squatted down to seem less threatening. You had to muster up what scraps of Korean you knew, as you were known to be the language-centric person of your year level. It was one of your favourite things to do, learn languages, but you never thought it would come in handy for a situation such as this.

“Hello? Do you know Korean?” The boy breathed in a sudden gush of hope and relief. You could’ve sworn tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes, but you weren’t judging because he seemed so lost and scared. You stood up again as he hurriedly got to his feet, his hands trembling and gaze darting around the room from one student to the next.

“I’m calling the principal, we need to figure out what is going on!” Your teacher spluttered before racing from the room, a few pieces of paper from his desk fluttered to the ground as the air rushed past. A few students followed the teacher, and their gazes were terrified from the weird events. You tried to breathe deeply.

“H-how did this happen? I want to be home, argh why did I try that fucking spell?!” The boy cried angrily as he stumbled until his back hit the classroom wall. He buried his fingers painfully deep into his hair and keeled over. You raised your hands, not knowing what to do or how to act. You wanted to help him, but was that okay? Should you even be going near something so strange and unpredictable?

“(Y/n) do you know that language? Maybe you should say something else?” Your friend whimpered from behind you. She had gathered nearby with the other remaining students whose curiosity had gotten the best of them. You felt the overwhelming pressure envelop you whole as your eyes trailed from the group of familiar faces to the frustrated boy.

I have to help him. It’s not something evil, I can tell.

He looked so out of place here, you could see he didn’t have a single clue about what had happened. You carefully moved towards him while ignoring the loud warnings of your friends behind you. You had to know what was happening, and you had to make sure he was okay.

“Um, hello. Who are you?” You asked in Korean, standing in front of him but not too close. You could be as brave as you wanted, but you didn’t want to die just yet.

The boy looked up, his red-rimmed and puffy eyes were the only evidence left of his overpowering emotions. Now he just looked empty with disbelief and shaky with apprehension.

“I’m Park Jimin, just Jimin I guess,” He answered, voice broken and cracking. He seemed weary and emotionally exhausted after all the disorder. You felt seriously bad for him, but still didn’t know how to approach the situation. The only reason all of the responsibility dumped itself onto you was because of your particular skill with language.

“You? What’s your name?” He asked unexpectedly. You looked up from the ground with raised eyebrows, shocked to see that he had taken a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He even managed to smile for a solid second before his full lips pulled into a frown once more.

“Uh, (Y/n). I’m (Y/n), and this is my school,” You tried to explain with your musty skills. He seemed vaguely amused with you, but the humour was lost underneath his crushing anxiety and fear of the unknown. You caught the way he observed you as if he had just seen you for the first time. You could only hope your hair wasn’t too messy.

“This is (Y/c), but how did you get here?” You questioned while using one pointed finger to emphasise what you were asking. He started to explain something quickly, but you only managed to translate a few of the words in your head. He was growing agitated fast, and you regretted asking immediately.

“Hey, hey! Calm down Jimin,” You soothed to the best of your ability, reaching out to touch him but jerking your hands back when you thought about what you were doing. You took one step backwards and sighed, wishing this had never happened.

“Sorry,” He apologised softly.

Before you could protest, your teacher burst into the room with the principal hot on his heels. A few other members of the school’s authority followed, and you winced when you thought about how scary and intimidating the whole thing looked. You turned around just in time to see Jimin’s eyes flashing with more fear.

“It’s okay, they’re okay. They’re teachers, they’ll help you,” You comforted and actually brought one hand up to touch his shoulder. The contact was brief but it seemed to ease some of his worries. He flashed you such an immensely grateful look that your mind short-circuited suddenly. He was really, really handsome.

“Please come here,” Your principal commanded, and to your surprise Jimin looked like he understood to an extent. He pushed off the wall to obey, but looked back as if asking for you to come with him, to be his solace through this hell.

“Do you need someone to help translate and everything?” You piped up hopefully, but you completely expected to be met with the cold hardened stares of the teachers and principal.

“No, we’ll be fine,” The principal assured with a clipped tone, eyeing Jimin as if he were a dirty rag on the side of the street. You clenched your teeth in anger as the party of teachers left with the boy in tow. He saw your frustrated and guilty expression, but only flashed you an understanding smile before leaving the room.

He seems so kind-hearted, I wish he would be treated better. I hope he figures out his shit.

You felt upset, but didn’t know why since you had literally barely met the guy. In all honesty, you should still be scared of him just like everyone else was, but you just weren’t.

“Girl, are you okay? At least that weird person didn’t attack you,” Your friend shook her head in disbelief. The other students dispersed back to their seats and you only noticed then that the rest had returned when the teachers had arrived. Everyone was back and chatting about the strange happening animatedly.

“He wouldn’t. Didn’t you see him? He seemed so afraid, but he was kind,” You argued. You felt angry that nobody seemed to be feeling sorry for Jimin. He was the one that deserved to be scared, not any of you or the teachers.

“I don’t know how you got all that from the small conversation you had, but I guess whatever you say,” Your friend shrugged.

As things seemed to return to normal, you couldn’t push your concerns for the boy out of your mind. Was he okay? What if those cold-hearted teachers shipped him away somewhere just because he couldn’t properly explain how he’d appeared? He could quite easily be sent to the police, or eventually a random orphanage.

“Are you still thinking about him? I’ll admit he was pretty handsome, but that was way too weird! I mean didn’t he just randomly appear in this room?” Your friend grunted, her tone raising as she tried to convince you to think of something else.

“I don’t know!” You widened your eyes, feeling slightly irritated that you couldn’t know absolutely everything, yet you were still expected to. Maybe coming from a family of lawyers did that to you.

Everyone fell silent again and you jerked your head towards the door impatiently. The teachers filtered back in with Jimin, but you blinked firmly when you saw that the boy was dressed in the uniform of your school. His hair was a little neater than when he had appeared, and his eyes were now crinkling along with the striking smile he wore.

“Everyone, please welcome Jimin Park to your class. I’m sure you will all treat this new transfer student with care,” The principal eyed everyone pointedly, just as she usually did, but you sat further backwards in your chair in bewilderment.

“Why-”

“I’m glad to meet you…all. I am (Y/n)’s family friend,” Jimin cut you off and spoke with a broken accent, which in all honesty you and many others found to be adorable.

Wait, my family friend?

You widened your eyes and brought your brows together in sheer confusion. Did you just hear that right? You were about to open your mouth to question him when he flashed you a knowing look. It was a warning, a warning to keep your mouth shut.

“I’m…not good at English. I will try my best, thank you,” He finished and instinctively tried to bow, soon straightening as he remembered he wasn’t in Korea anymore.

“Oh, so this is the dad’s friend’s son you always talk about. Wow, he’s handsome!” Your friend whispered to you with a tiny giggle. You looked at her in shock, mouth hanging slightly open as you tried to grasp what was happening.

The principal left as Jimin moved forward to take the empty seat right next to you. You threw him a glare that demanded an explanation, but you knew it would need to wait for later because your asshole of a teacher was about to start class again.

“Sorry, when we get home I will talk,” Jimin muttered in Korean, leaning towards you so that no-one would overhear. Not that it would matter since you were the only one who could possibly understand him anyway.

“Um, ‘we’? I don’t remember my home being yours too,” You choked out, not even caring if he understood or not.

To sum it up, a random boy had landed in your classroom, caused the whole class and its teacher to freak out, and had then proceeded to alter everyone’s memories somehow.

You were in for one hell of a ride.

           Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[docholligay]

The Time Traveler’s Bullshit

@katrani comissioned me to write out my full review of The Time Traverler’s Wife, my most hated book of the year thus far, and I feel like it won’t be dethroned. nearly 3,000 words and I skipped a whole section I was going to write about, ENJOY

Three dollars and ninety nine cents will buy you a Big Mac. It will buy you four hours of downtown parking in my city. Three dollars and ninety-nine cents will buy you a latte made with burnt coffee at Starbucks. For Three dollars and ninety-nine cents, I can get a can of terrible beer and have a dollar left over for tip. All of which would have been a better choice than what I ultimately spent that three dollars and ninety-nine cents on, which was this book. 

I am careful to read hyped books out of their time, so that I’m not influenced by something that has been so lauded no book could ever hope to reach those heights. So when this first came around, and I saw many women talking about how much they had loved it, I figured I would just read it later. I buy books used, so this is generally what I do even outside of worrying about being affected. 

I finally picked this book up after a reader of mine told me it reminded them of my writing. 

After reading it, several years after all the hype, I have one question: Are women who fuck men okay? 

(“Why not just straight women, Doc?” you may rightly ask me, and I, unfortunately, am forced to answer that I know a number of bisexual women who also enjoyed this book, leading me to believe that the trouble is far worse than previously imagined.)

I found this book to be borderline insulting, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have claimed this book was written by a man. The entire way through I felt the constant assault of the idea that this reminded someone of ME. What have I been doing wrong all my life, I asked? I should probably give up writing. 

Let’s go into the book itself!

The core of the novel hinges around the idea that Henry goes through time without wanting to and with no consious conrol, and so in a sense lives his life out of order. This is a fascinating idea but for the fact that book’s main hinge is the relationship between Clare and Henry. 

Who Henry meets, as an adult out of time, when she is six. 

And proceeds to groom her to be his wife someday. 

Oh, it isn’t put that way, of course, it’s simply that they end up married and so, I suppose the author might say, it’s only natural that Henry interact with her when he comes the “the Meadow” nearby where she lives. But this sort of “things are already decided” that the author is extremely fond of does not remove this intensely squicky framework from their relationship. Henry begins with Clare when she is six years old, and it comes on VERY fast that they are supposed to get married. She is at a sleepover, still as a literal child, ELEVEN YEARS OLD, when the Ouija board spells out his name as the boy who likes her. 

The book takes pains to describe how he won;t have sex with her until she’s 18, but how difficult it is for a thirties to forties man not to have sex with her when she’s 15, 16, 17. I want to say there might be a part where he describes it when she’s 14, but I can’t find it in the book right now, so we’ll pretend it’s not there. “But they’re married in the furute!” one might say, listen if my wife had to resist having sex with sixteen year old me, and didn’t see me as a fucking child, I would think she was gross. It’s gross for a thirty-something to forty -something dde to struggle not to fuck a teenager, period, end of story. 

All of this is wrapped in the book’s idea that this is romantic, instead of the idea that Clare’s “date with destiny” is tragic. She doesn’t ever have a boyfriend, because she is “waiting for Henry”. She sleeps with one of Henry’s friends before he and Clare ever officially “meet” and bursts into tears because she feels as if she has been unfaithful. Meanwhile, Henry is out having girlfriends like no one’s business, and “Well Doc he doesn’t know” why is Clare the one who has to bear this arranged marriage? 

Clare herself even alludes to the way she’s being groomed to be the woman he wants in a way that I DO NOT THINK the author intended, as the author is desperately wrapped up in the idea that this is sexy and romantic and not deeply fucking unsettling. 

Pretentious-ass Henry is dropping German into a casual conversation with a thirteen year old so that you know he is learned and cool, and explain that it’s from Rilke, one of their (note: Not your, but OUR) favorite poets. 

Clare responds: “You’re doing it again!” 

“What?” 

“Telling me what I like.” Clare burrows into my lap with her feet. Without thinking I put my feet on her shoulders, but then that seems too sexual, somehow, and I quickly take Clare’s feet in my hands again and hold them together with one hand in the air as she lies on her back, innocent and angelic with her hair spread nimbus-like around her on the blanket. (Sidebar: I can only fucking imagine that the sort of people that are into this are the sort of people who think nothing at the idea of some Victorian gentleman marrying his attractive young ward, as apparently there’s no problem with having seen someone as a child and then having them marry you! It’s not deeply fucked up at all!)  …..

“Henry?” 

“Yes?”

“You are making me different.” 

“I know.” 

These brief asides are meant to make us feel that Henry has done enough to assuage his guilt, that we are meant to forget that what he is doing is wrong. The book goes so far as to have sixteen year old Clare be the aggressor with a 37 or so year old Henry, as a way of trying to tell us, “Oh look none of this can be Henry’s fault” and an absolutely cringeworthy section where Henry goes and beats up a kid who took Clare on a date and proceeded to assault her. (She dates him to prove she’s not a dyke wow what a great book and thank you for reminding us that Clare never wants to see anyone else for her own sake even as a teenager, very healthy)

All of which would make me a hell of a lot more mad if I managed to like Clare even a little bit. But it’s not at all surprising that I don't--Clare is hardly a character in this story so much as she’s a cardboard cutout that exists for Henry. 

Each of her desires and thoughts revolves around him, from the time she’s a child, save for minor pouting incidents when Henry either won’t tell her something, or disagrees with her. But she always caves, but for the exception of having a child, another horrible thing we’re meant to feel sorry for them in, but I, at least, never really do, as they know the problem, they know how horribly Henry’s life has been affected, and yet they persevere. I find myself asking why in the fuck they don’t use donor sperm, but I suppose that would not fulfill Clare’s real use as being Henry’s vessel. It might have been very touching to write about their experience of infertility if they were likeable at all, or the chapters were anything but flat and emotionless despite dealing with really high-emotion topics. It’s essentially Clare saying “I want a baby inside me” and having a series of miscarriages. I’ve read more compelling narratives on online message boards. 

Not to mention when Henry suggests adopting and Clare says “That would be pretending” bitch fuck ALL THE WAY OFF. I repeat: WE ARE MEANT TO LIKE THIS CHARACTER. NOTHING ABOUT HER IS SHOWN AS A NEGATIVE. 

A fair amount of time in the book is spent describing how hot Clare is, and it’s a bit cringey to read about a super hot redhead with great tits and also rich, who’s a visual artist, and then flip to the back and see a redheaded visual artist as the author. It’s not that I don’t believe that authors are ever allowed to find themselves in a character, quite the contrary, but one hopes that there would be a level of detachment or at least plausible deniability. But no, Clare is nothing but wish fulfillment for the author, but unfortunately cannot fulfill any of ours. I get the sense that these characters are far more complex and layered in Niffenegger’s head, but they fall completely flat on the page, sketches of annoying human beings. 

Clare seems to have been raised in an Austen novel, where the home is noted for its architecture and we ‘dress for dinner’ which could be intensely compelling if they ever went anywhere with it. But we don’t. Because of course Clare’s raising in a straightlaced, extremely wealthy family has no affect on her and she is a very cool girl who is laid back and likes the right music and poetry. (Sidebar: The name dropping in this novel is SO TIRESOME. Every band, artist, poet, etc has to be named and identified so your are aware of how absolutely well-read and smart and cool Niffenegger is) 

The we’re meant to feel for Henry when her family finds out that he is half-Jewish which I suppose is meant to be shocking when he doesn’t practice or isn’t different in any marked way from her family? The character has no Jewishness in him but as a side note and dare I say for shock value. Her family isn’t even written as believably against the union, as no one can resist super cool hipster protag Henry DeTamble (Even his name sounds INSUFFERABLE) 

The problem, of course, is that the very wealthy can buy their way out of many problems, meaning that an author has to have a particular deftness of hand in order to make you feel something for them. This is not that author. Any sympathy one might have for Clare goes immediately out the window when she’s complaining about having only a small room for a studio in which to create, while she’s living off the INTEREST from her trust fund, and hiring a cleaning service because neither of them is willing to vacuum. Not her trust fund. The INTEREST from her trust fund, which means there must be so much fucking money in there we all want to scream. 

Of course, Henry goes into the future and wins the lottery so they can give her a new studio, I shit you not this is a thing that happens in a novel where we are supposedly meant to identify with the characters and feel for them. They buy a nice house with a separate studio in the backyard, not even in the house, just a large brick edifice where Clare can do whatever she wants because these people don’t have consequences until Henry’s death, and by the time he dies, we’re all thanking God that at least there’s one thing they can’t weasel out of. The book has the audacity to have them, later, describe having a private box as one of their “little indulgences” friends a private box is the realm of $1,800 dollars for ONE showing of an opera, and while I am a believer in the good of occasionally saving up to do something that is an experience, there is no way I would describe that as an ‘indulgence” but these people have such wealth that they never need worry about anything at all, except the central point, which is that Henry drifts in and out of time and we would like to sentence a child to that. 

Henry himself is a collection of traits rather than a person--it is so important to the author that we know he is a real punk with great musical taste, that he knows German and poetry and Chicago--it’s all rather a laundry list of the long-haired, tall, punkish but very classically learned boyfriend Niffenegger would like to have rather than someone who has a heart or a mind.  But the luck of it all is that she clearly cares about henry far more than she does Clare, and so he gets a bit of fleshing out with a tragic anime backstory and all that, and from time to time we see bursts of real humanity in his character. 

Their love, even if it were not burdened by the exceptional trouble of CLARE BEING GROOMED AS A CHILD, has the weight of air. Henry is a womanizer with a drug problem, but then he meets Clare, hot rich redhead who proves she’s known him her whole life, and suddenly the magic swelling violins are in the background, love has found its day, and no more is ever said about it.The book refuses to get anywhere deep into how they feel about things and why, it is only glancing blows that seem to suggest an emotion rather than allowing ourselves to get into their minds.  

The bulk of the description of their love is sex. Sex sex sex. I get it, they are hot for each other, I am trying very hard to get over the fact that they are married when Clare is 22 and Henry is thirty, but you’re giving me nothing to pin their relationship on but the fact that they enjoy railing each other and Henry has been around since Clare was a child. I don’t understand the why of their relationship even once, it all seems so accidental, and I wanted there to be a lesson, or something to be said about humanity and relationships, but I found nothing save for maybe the idea that women are fully engrossed in their relationships and men basically luck into them and then drop out from time to time? But even that is far far deeper than I think the novel deserves credit for. 

The side characters are somehow worse, mainly racist stereotypes or one note characters who ALSO exist to have their lives enhanced by the protagonists. Even their friends only exist so that Gomez can have the hots for Clare for years, because Everyone Wants To Bone Clare. 

The writing itself is terrible too, written in the style of a script, almost, rapidly shifting between first person narratives in a matter of one or two paragraphs, often, helpfully telling who is talking by, I shit you not, putting “CLARE:” or “HENRY:” before the paragraphs, so we can enjoy who it is that is navel gazing and picking over the conversation without saying anything really, save for how badly Henry wants to fuck his super hot wife, who may or may not currently be a teenager, and how desperately Clare loves him, and has loved him since she was a child, for reasons that remain unclear. 

It’s padded out and ridiculous and reads like some of the drafts when I am being a complete garbage pile, and thank you to the person online who had already typed this out so I didn’t have to:

Henry:

Clare is wearing a wine-colored velvet dress and pearls. She looks like a Botticelli by way of John Graham: huge gray eyes, long nose, tiny delicate mouth like a geisha. She has long red hair that covers her shoulders and falls to the middle of her back. Clare is so pale she looks like a waxwork in the candlelight. I thrust the roses at her. "For you."

Please try to read that with a straight face and get back to me, i could not manage it, and it was early on the book, and this sort of thing goes on for pages, if you don’t like hearing about how pale Clare is, and that she has red hair, her two most dominating character traits, you are in for a very, very rough time. 

The narrative voice of the characters is identical. I mean, I suppose I should thank whatever god is responsible for this clusterfuck for the CLARE and HENRY bits because otherwise I would have no clue who was talking from moment to moment. Does NIffenegger think all people think alike? That their internal monologues are the same? It seems to me she must because I can’t figure any other way that one could write two characters and have them, even when their opinions differ, sound like the exact same person. 

I did enjoy the letter at the end of this story--and this is where I saw where my reader connected me to this book--it almost seems as if it was written for a different novel, a novel about a doomed love between two people that truly loved each other and had rich inner lives. It’s beautiful, or it would be totally removed from this novel. 

This review has, in itself, gotten to be as rambling and listing as the novel, and so I will let it rest here. I read incredibly fast. This took me something like five or six hours to read. It was a waste of every single one of those hours and I wish I had gotten a Big Mac instead. Save yourself, save six hours, save three dollars and ninety-nine cents, and read literally anything else. 

[that1girloverthere]

Burning Sunflowers

Chapter 3

part one & part two

"Violet, sweety its time to get up," my father's voice carries throughout the house, surely coming from his regular place at our kitchen table. The smell of sweet syrup wafting up with it to meet my nose making my stomach turn sour. 

"Coming!" I'm not sure why I expect my answer to sound any different today as if the decision I must make would somehow change my very being. It feels as if it should. 

I force myself from my bed, turning back to glance at the bright red covers and yellow sheets, the colors always too bold to reside in a place to sleep in my opinion. 

Putting my thoughts aside, I mechanically get dressed, opting for a tank top, being persuaded by the first hint of warm sun peeking through my window in weeks. 

My window. 

My chair.

My bed. 

My dresser. 

Things I didn't think I could preemptively miss staring at me, creating a hole in my chest. Tears well in my eyes as I take one last survey of my room and close the door on my childhood. 

At some point last night I had made the decision that I must leave. 

"Vi-" I cut my father's call off short, pacing into the kitchen and giving him his customary hug. 

"Good morning, girly," he speaks into my ear. The smell of him envelops me, trees and grass and the plant-based detergent that all families in Amity use. 

"Morning, daddy." My response, in front of anyone but my family would make me feel childish, not at all the brash girl of 18 that I am to the world. But here, in the kitchen I've eaten in for all my years of life, in the arms of my father, it feels right. 

"Come on, the food will get cold if you two don't hurry up," my mother teases. 

At this we both let go, him flashing me a soft smile that I mirror. 

"Someone's just jealous," he whispers to me with a wink. 

"Come here," I turn and say, listening to the warmth of my mother's laugh as I give her a hug as well. I catch a glance at the clock from over her shoulder and a fresh wave of panic shoots over me, making me pull away too quick.

"Uh, did anyone notice the time?" 

At my comment, a harsh horn blares through the house three times. The signal from the trucks that they're about to leave. 

"Oh, shoot. You didn't even get to eat," concern laces the face in front of me, her hands still placed on my shoulders. 

"Its alright, Hazel, she can just eat when we return. We'll make it a family affair, maybe even invite over all the kids, I'm sure Violet will be wanting to ask them all questions on the initiation process considering how recent they went through it." My father's assurance, though calming to my mother, only brings me a new wave of guilt as we rush out of our house. 

Not our house anymore, but theirs. 

+ + +

People fill the large room quickly, forcing the bulk of Amity to take a seat sooner than they'd like. My parents and I lay claim to a set of seats towards the front, as customary for families of an ancestry such as ours. Our lineage has sat in these seats every year for as long as the ceremony has existed.  Most of my friends, Beck especially, are located near the back, left to work their way up with more and more faithful generations. 

If my blood is to land anywhere else but in the bowl of soil today, I will be a shun on this tradition, casting my family and their next offspring to the farthest most chairs from the center. 

My palms sweat as I watch Marcus Eaton make his way to the small raised platform, this year being Abnegation's to host. My mind trails off while he speaks of the formation of the factions, having heard this many times before. My parents sit at my right, leaving me the aisle seat so I may rise uninhibited when my name is called. 

This also leaves me with my left to the Abnegation and to their left the Dauntless. Even in the midst of a serious occasion, I see many them struggle to stay still, their legs bouncing and hands twitching, much like mine do now as well. 

Am I really to join them? Am I to cast aside my comfortable life for one of- what? Brutality? That is at least what my parents and peers whisper when the black-clad soldiers walk past us. My faction sees Dauntless as a group of overly pierced neanderthals with a killing streak. Not exactly the kindest view, but a long-held stereotype nonetheless; one that has stopped any transfers from our faction to theirs in the past 30 years. Even then, it's unsure if the Amity even made it through their initiation, some gossip saying as much as that the poor man died before he stepped foot into their compound. 

"Beck Forester." 

I'm ripped back into reality as I hear his name and turn to watch him rise from his seat. I feel his eyes land on me but can't allow myself to meet them, knowing their intensity with make me question my decision.  Nevertheless, his hand grips my shoulder gently as he walks past, making my stomach flip. 

He steps with confidence, his body well built, muscular from all his work on the farms. I hear feminine whispers around me, no doubt admiring what we can all see. I watch him take the knife, its place in his hand so foreign that even he seems taken aback by it. He hesitates for a moment, and I can tell that the weapon has managed to scare him. 

He cuts the skin on his palm, turning so I can no longer see the red puddle forming, and swiftly lets it fall into the bowl in front of him. 

Only, it makes a splash when it hits. 

The room goes still. 

"Erudite." 

What? No, no that's not right. The Beck I know is Amity incarnate.

Surely enough, he takes the bandage given to him and walks to a separate group than from which he came. One that is covered in blue. 

No, he was supposed to stay, to make up for my leaving. He was supposed to be the one to explain to my family that I did this out of nature, not hate. 

"Violet Fairweather." 

Oh, God. 

My mother squeezes my hand as I rise and a see a confident smile on her face. It makes my heart palpitate. 

I walk to the bowl on legs that would shake if I was any less shocked. Meeting Marcus' deep blue eyes, I feel myself take the knife from him but don't mentally comprehend what it is that I hold. So this is what a weapon feels like. 

The handle of the blade is one of polished wood, the metal a shining silver. Nothing like the butter knives my family uses at the dinner table. 

The Abnegation leader gives me a nod as if telling me to choose already, and with that, I slice my palm. A sting spreads its way up my arm, but I pay it no mind. I watch as the blood pools in my palm, only I can't do as Beck did, allowing my choice to be made with my backed turned and head down. 

No, the bowl I need sits in a direct line with the seats my faction takes.  

My arm doesn't wobble as I extend it and let my blood sizzle on hot coals. 

"Dauntless."

+ + +

thanks for reading! so sorry this took so long to update but i have been in such a slump recently.

Tag List: @slytherinintj13 @buried-in-books @marvelmenappreciation @insecureunicornn @katelinwrites @tazzclegane @kgurew @nohemi2500 @beenthroughalot @tobiasbebrave

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[paradisecost]

TIMELINE: ATTICUS

Are you ready for 1600 words of Atticus lore? Then BOY HOWDY do I have some good news for you. I ran out of steam by the time I hit the last few verses so they have way less detail, but whATEVER. I’ve also completely skimmed over so many details (like Atticus’ lingering issues with being cut off from his Indigenous heritage; his father’s disappearance; his relationships with various friends and lovers throughout his life; some of the shit he did and witnessed throughout his time with the gang and in order to escape them; etc) because otherwise the word count would be RIDICULOUS.

Note: There’s no set time period for this. A lot of Atticus’ mainverse is tagged as “v: age of sail” for the convenience of keeping most of my verses vaguely within the Black Sails timeline (1705-1720 usually) but realistically these are probably within the 1800s somewhere. The real question is: who gives a shit, it’s MY sandbox and history is what I say it is.

Under the cut for length. Warnings include talk of gangs, gang life, and so on.

Note: This is VERY much a work in progress and almost no detail has really been hammered out, especially regarding Atticus' time as an outlaw within the gang since I have a lot of research to do in that area (since I know more about modern gangs and cult dynamics than Ye Olde ones). Nonetheless, all of these verses are open for interaction/asks/etc - though verses marked as (intermission) or (segue) really exist more to bridge some verses together.

v: before it all (childhood) (0-13)

Atticus' early, pre-outlaw life, spanning from his birth to the age of about 12-13. He lives with his mother and sister in a small town in the middle of buckass nowhere; his father visits once a year or so up until Atticus is about 10, when he mysteriously stops coming. It isn't long after this that Atticus first becomes involved with the [redacted] gang, likely through befriending one of the younger members by accident. By the time he's about 12, he's built up a steadfast trust and codependence on the group - and his relationship with his mother has steeply declined, in part due to her reticence about his Native father and determination to erase any non-Whiteness from their children, and in part because of how vehemently she opposes his involvement with the gang.

v: drinking the water (gang member) (12-28)

Spans around eight years, from when Atticus is 12-13 to roughly 20-28. Atticus is ass-deep in the cult-like dynamic of the gang and has lost all contact with his mother, though he and his sister exchange letters here and there. He is extremely loyal to the group and considers them 'his people', is inherently distrustful of outsiders and has precisely no interest in living amongst them.

Grievances with the gang's behaviour towards both him and others start accumulating, however, when Atticus is about 18-20. They start off small, but as his sense of self develops and he starts to get more of a feel for who he is as a person, the problems start building up. This may be in part due to exposure to other dissenting members of the group who were swiftly either disposed of or, uh, re-educated; Atticus did not like seeing that shit At All despite his usual cognitive dissonance.

That isn't by any means the only factor; as he gets older, he's also granted significantly more freedom, which results in exposure to all kinds of people and places that he simply wasn't aware of as a kid. By the time he's about 25, he knows for sure that the life they're living now isn't one he wants to keep, but you don't simply leave a gang like that. It takes him a couple more years to a) figure out some kind of plan and b) gather the resources, courage, and knowledge he'll need to pull it off and live.

v: the aftermath (post gang) (28-30)

Somehow, Atticus finds his way out of cult-gang hell. There are no dramatics involved - he simply disappears during a hunt one day, to arouse the least suspicion. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone on the hunt- the gang's leader had sent someone along with him to keep an eye on him, as (unbeknownst to Atticus) his growing resentment and flightiness had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the group. It's likely that the person sent with him was someone Atticus liked a great deal, as the leader hoped that this would dissuade him from doing anything stupid to get away--

--but needless to say, they were later found dead in the woods, and Atticus was gone. He spent the next two years flitting around as much as possible, trying to get as far away as he could. The gang sent out hunts for him, of course- at first with the intention of simply talking to him and seeing if they could persuade him to come back. After Atticus started killing them off, they sent out searches for him with significantly less friendly intentions.

It's during this time that he takes on the name Atticus as his own. No forename/surname: just Atticus, or Mr. Atticus if folks are feeling polite. It's also during this time that he acquires Bad Jim, a black and white horse that accompanies him for the next several years, often as his sole companion. He buys Bad Jim (then unnamed) from a horse trader entirely legitimately, but pays an absurd amount for him because the trader--according to Atticus--had "clocked [him] as a wanted fella of some sort and wanted to capitalize on his desperation".

(The truth is a little different: the trader had, indeed, clocked him as a wanted man, but he raised the price of the horse to compensate himself for the risk of selling a horse to a possible felon).

It’s during this time that he meets The Captain--then called Amelia--for the first time; the two stay in contact for the remainer of Atticus’ life.

The gang stops actively searching for him about a year and a half in, though Atticus still doesn't let his guard down for a good couple of years afterwards. During this time, higher-ranking members of the gang begin to spread the story that Atticus is dead. In later years, this story will become that Atticus never existed - younger members who join later on have no idea who he is, as to their knowledge, no-one escapes the gang and lives.

v: solo outlaw (30-36)

No longer quite so intensely on the run from the gang, Atticus encounters a problem: he is definitely still wanted by various authorities for his involvement with them. Not only that, but he has no damn idea how to exist outside of them. He makes a few token attempts at honest work--tries taking odd jobs for people, herds cattle and has a brief stint as a stableboy--but in the end, he just can't take to it. Within a few months, he's more or less going off the rails: where before he'd at least tried to steer himself towards being what he thought of as a Good Man(TM), he repeatedly finds himself committing actions he would abhor from anyone else. He tries real hard to find some kind of moral balance between doing what he's good at and doing what he wants to be good at, but alas, the poor bastard's more or less on his own and having a shit time of it.

Other than that, no fucking idea about the details of this verse. He's an outlaw still - he's just on his own instead of with a gang, and more often than not, he takes on jobs from people who need someone killed or threatened.

It's during this time (when he’s about 32) that he meets the woman who eventually becomes Icarus' mother. There's no immediate spark, nothing like that; she neither trusts nor likes him at first. It's when he tells her--a half-Black, half-Indigenous woman--that his father was Indigenous that she first gives him the time of day, and it's long after that, when he talks about his feelings of inbetween-ness and his frustration at being cut off from half of his heritage that she starts to actually warm to him even platonically.

Icarus is born soon afterwards, but by then, Atticus and [I'll think of a name one day]'s relationship has already begun to... not deteriorate, exactly, but shift. They were never really in love to begin with so much as they were good friends who found a comfort in one another they couldn’t find elsewhere.

Anyway the point is, they separate when Icarus is still very small; Atticus is losing direction and feels as stuck as he did before, and his presence is causing more problems than it solves. He vows to stay in touch, though, and he does- and later in life, much of the money he makes from bounty-hunting goes back to his friend and their kid.

It's towards the end of this verse that Bad Jim is killed in combat, during a run-in with Atticus' old gang - specifically some newer, younger members of it that don't know him, but Atticus is able to recognise them. The horse falls atop Atticus as it dies and essentially crushes him to the ground- he's only saved from being completely crushed by the overturned wagon beside him that takes some of Bad Jim's weight. Despite still sustaining severe injuries from it, Bad Jim's death saves Atticus' life: he has no choice but to play dead until the shooting's over and the smoke clears. The gang members give him a cursory check to see if he's dead, but given that they have no idea who Atticus is, they have no reason to do anything but check and move on.

v: in recovery (intermission) (36-38)

It takes Atticus a long time to recover from the injuries sustained in the fight that took Bad Jim; he's essentially forced to find somewhere to lie low and recuperate, and has to rely on the kindness of strangers and mere acquaintances during it.

Towards the end of this time, he also acquires the dog that now accompanies him almost everywhere; an Anatolian Shepherd I still don’t have a name for.

v: bounty hunter (segue) (38-42)

TL;DR; Having recognised that he Fucking Hates being an outlaw but isn't much good at anything else, Atticus finds a compromise: he becomes a bounty hunter, straddling both sides of the law at once.

It's during this time that he he meets Isaiah, who helps him out of several rough patches.

v: bounty hunter (42+)

Just the previous verse but at the default ‘canon’ point in the timeline sdkfjnsdjfkn. All interactions take place in this verse by default, which is often also tagged as "v: age of sail (atticus)". Local cowboy is a sort of bounty hunter, blahblahblah.