#ftwc

[hardlyinteresting]

love's never lost when perspective is earned

Jake Seresin x Reader

“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.” Peter Pan, J.M Barrie

Peter by Taylor Swift S P E Y S I D E by Bon Iver Big Black Car by Gregory Alan Isakov Smother by Daughter

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, Parentification of eldest siblings, bad first date experience, gets a little spicy towards the end (no smut), (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please)

This one shot was written for @arcane-vagabond Fairy Tale writing challenge with the inspiration of Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, and the use of the word Scintilla.

Word Count: 6.7K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

She remembers that summer wrapped in a golden glow. Back when hot, humid days were spent bathed in the sun’s vivid orange. Their fingers were sticky with jammy pie fillings, stolen from his mama’s kitchen. Cold water from the garden hose always tasted better after a day of chasing themselves around the properties. 

What do you want to be when you grow up?” Jake had asked her as they lay in the grass behind his house. 

“I haven't decided yet,” she told him matter of factly, “But, I’m gonna have a nice house, and I’m going to go far away from here”. 

“I'm gonna be a pilot,” Jake said, “And I’ll fly wherever I want”.

She knew he was entirely serious, even as a little boy he’d never failed to accomplish what he put his mind to. The gentle waiver is his voice as his statement teetered around the edges of his true feelings and fears. “I wish I could fly away,” She told him, watching the clouds shift across the bright blue sky above them. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you with me,” Jake promised. And back then, a promise had felt like enough. 

They were seven; her shins were always bruised from climbing trees and tackling the Seresin boy during their daily football scrambles; his cheeks were always sunburnt, and he lied every time his mother asked if he had put sunscreen on. In many ways, she thinks those two months running after Jake Seresin had been both the peak and the plateau of her childhood wonder. 

September meant returning to school; finishing supper and homework before being allowed out to play, and with the autumnal turn crept in early sunsets and earlier curfews. In November, her stepdad moved in, and her mother told her to expect a little brother in the spring. The days of scraped knees and make-believe slipped away before the winter frost set in. 

When he thinks about her now, he pictures her laughing like she did when they were ten years old. He misses the days when she had the freedom to forget herself. 

At ten years old Jake Seresin couldn’t understand why his friend wasn’t as fun as she used to be. He watched from his kitchen window as she sat on the front porch with her little brother, settling next to her and feeding him from tiny jars of baby food. At a distance, it'd be easy to mistake her for any other girl playing make-believe with one of her dolls. But Jackson wasn't a doll, he was fussy and gassy, and he needed to be fed and put down for his naps before she had a moment of spare time to spend with her pal Jake. 

Her little brother had been followed by a new baby girl two years later. Tire marks on the dirt driveway highlighted where her stepfather’s truck should have been most days. Jackson had finally gone down for a nap but Olivia had been teething and her wailing could be heard from a mile away. 

“What do you want to do today?” Jake asked her as he made his way up her porch steps to sit next to her on the stoop. “I want to fly away,” she told him. 

Without a second thought, he grabbed her hand as he took off running, down the stairs, across the lawn and into the field behind the house. The long grass tickled at their ribs as they ran as fast as possible, their arms outstretched on either side of them. 

Circling, and jumping, hooting and hollering they made their way across the flat land with boisterous laughter bubbling from their lips. By the time they stumbled to a stop at the fence line their breath came to them in quiet gasps, their cheeks warmed by the exertion of their activity. 

The sound of his pulse fell in time with her carefree giggles as she twirled around mimicking some kind of bird. Had it not been for the physical boundary of the wire fence he thinks they could have kept running forever, the promise of freedom they didn’t yet understand beneath their wings. In that moment he knew he’d chase that feeling for the rest of his life. 

At sixteen she felt more like a substitute parent than she did a teenage girl. Her mind and her soul had aged beyond her years and stayed wrapped in a youthful vessel. School had become an escape from the responsibility she felt at home. While Olivia and Jackson clambered onto the school bus excited for first and second grade, she climbed into the passenger seat of Jake Seresin’s restored F-150. Each morning he'd pass her a wrapped sandwich made in his kitchen with his mother's fresh-baked bread. A replacement for the meal he knew she sacrificed to divide the last of the breakfast cereal between her siblings. He filled her with servings of farm butter and homemade jam, or ham and cheese. Their silent dialogue in brushing their knuckles during the exchange, as he always chose to ignore how she saved half for her lunch later in the day. 

Pulling into the parking lot at school she had been keenly aware of the way the other girls looked at her as she walked hand in hand with Jake; the glares shot her way when he kissed her cheek as they parted ways to head to their classes.

Their jealousy rolled off them in waves, and she heard how they spoke about her in the locker room after gym class. Whispers about his gorgeous green eyes and boyish charm. What could the hottest guy in school possibly want from the strange girl in her secondhand clothes and studious persona? Surely he'd have more fun with a girl who wanted to party. 

It was true. In the span of one summer, he'd grown 6 inches, towering over her now. His shoulders broadened. The lanky awkward limbed boy she'd known in her childhood grew stronger and more defined as he learned better how to pull his weight on his family’s farm. His masculine stature and maturity softened only by his flushed cheeks, and childlike grin. 

And yes, he snuck beers from his father’s garage fridge and did handstands for ovations at parties hosted by the school football team. An absolute joy to be around. To know Jake Seresin was to love Jake Seresin, but didn't know him the way she did.

 They didn't know he was terrified of thunderstorms until he was 12. They weren't there when he split his pants open trying to climb over a fence when they were 9. They had never had the privilege of listening to him read aloud from all his books about aircraft; his 11-year-old fingers tracing the letters as he sounded out the big words, the fear of being held back in 5th grade hanging over his head. 

They had never held him as he tore into himself. The golden boy, raised in the shadow of an older brother who hadn’t lived long enough for him to remember; so deeply loved, but not enough to fill the ache in his parent’s hearts. 

No one in those school halls would ever be able to tell the difference between his happiest days, and the smirk he plastered on always aiming to be better than what he believed himself to be. 

He was so stubborn and far more clever than he ever let himself sound; she scolded him almost daily as he tried to shrug off his homework. “You'll need math and science if you ever want to fly a jet,” she would remind him, accepting the glass of sweet tea he offered her. Their textbooks and notes would lay spread across his kitchen table while Jackson and Olivia occupied themselves with blank paper and wax crayons, offering Jake scribbled drawings of airplanes, “wow! That's amazing, thank you,” he'd say every time. 

She hadn't asked Jake to worm his way into her soul, and yet even now she knows some part of her soul belongs deeply to him. Their games of tag had slowly become time spent talking about their parents and watching the clouds; their hands intertwined between them as they listened to each other's dreams and desires for the future. 

And on the nights when his life just didn’t seem to fit quite right, he’d tap on her window, willing her to join him in the bed of his truck a couple of miles from their homes; and she’d remind him who he was. The bright boy with a heart of gold, and a laugh that reminded her of everything good in the world. She’d rest her head on his chest, his fingertips tracing aimless shapes across her back, as she convinced him he was more than a collection of hand-me-down dreams. 

His eighteenth birthday crept up to him before passing in a blur of candlelight and buttercream icing. His mother cried in the kitchen when she excused herself to ‘take care of the dishes’. His father clapped him on the shoulder. Their two sets of hazel-green eyes met as the older man offered a nod.  The action itself did not speak to a relationship of closeness or specific affection, but still, it managed to convey a message of approval, apology, and love too difficult to speak. 

She had knocked on the door shortly after dinner had been cleared from the table, the remaining half of his birthday cake being ushered into the refrigerator under a cling wrap film. Shivering in the night air, her hands clutched a package of brown paper with a shiny blue ribbon, his name scribbled in her careful writing. Quickly, he’d pulled her into the house greeting her with a kiss as deeply passionate as she deserved. “Happy birthday,” she’d whispered, pressing the gift she’d brought into his hands. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he’d told her. “I wanted to,” she insisted. With steady hands, he unwrapped the box. His question was silent, but the shocked expression on his face must’ve conveyed enough for her to be able to answer him anyway. “It’s the one from the antique store,” she grinned, “Mister Abbot let me pay for it in instalments”. He tipped the brass nautical compass into the palm of his hand, staid in his evaluation of both the physical and emotional weight of the gift. “This is too much,” he spoke after a moment. 

Her eyes went wide, her smile dropping. “I love it,” he was immediate in his attempt at reassurance, “but, you’re saving for school. I don’t want you spending your money on me, darlin’”. He tried to pass the compass back to her, a woebegone ponderosity settling in his stomach at the very idea of rejecting any part of her. Insistent, yet patient, she curled her finger over his. The digits were so much smaller than his own, cracked and raw from washing dishes and cleaning tables at the local diner. The painful reminder of how hard she’d been working to climb her way out of her own life. “I want you to keep it. Selfishly,” she said, “I want you to always be able to find your way back to me”. How could he have argued with that? 

Politely, she’d popped into the kitchen to see his mama, accepting a Tupperware of cake slices to take home for the kids to enjoy. His father met them at the door as Jake shrugged on his denim jacket. “Where are you kids off to?” he asked out of curiosity more than any concern. “Just going for a drive,” Jake told him, slipping his keys into his pocket. “Don’t let him get you into any trouble, ya hear?” he warned her with a teasing grin, the humour evident in his voice. “Yes sir,” she had agreed easily, knowing Mr Seresin’s penchant for faux sternness in the moments between his genuine stoicism. Seemly satisfied to see her smile grow, he had turned to Jake with an immediate pivot back to his natural sternness, “You make sure you get her home at a reasonable time. It’s a school night”. Jake’s compliance echoed her own, with no room for jest, “Yes sir”. 

Parked in their usual spot, at the edge of a cleared field he wrapped layers of blankets around her shoulders, before settling down next to her. Their biggest dreams breathed between them and the night stars. “I love you,” he said. The statement was resolute, and immovable in its honesty. “I love you too, Jake,” she told him. Her words were spoken like a promise she desperately wanted to keep. 

“When we graduate, I'll drive us across the country,” he tells her, “I'll buy us a house. You can go to school and I'll fly”. 

“It’s a nice dream, baby,” she says. 

Their drive home is silent. 

She spent her nineteenth birthday sleeping in his childhood bedroom. He hadn't been home in months but the sheet still smelt like him. She scraped her knees climbing up the trellis to his window, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She’d laughed to herself examining the superficial wounds, enjoying the familiar bite of nostalgia. Memories of her childhood long since passed left tears at the corners of her eyes. Near manic laughter faded into a melancholy exhaustion. 

Her eyes focused on the small book collection Jake had managed over the years. They had all been perfectly aligned in their homes on his bookshelf; set in alphabetical order by author. His need for structure despite his free spirit had been amusing until it became mildly concerning. Routine, crafted to satisfy the need to stay completely distracted from an overwhelm of feelings he had always been sure he didn’t have the capacity to express. The hope in her heart had always been that he might learn to hone his particular brand of presentiment. He’d always been so rough-and-tumble, so hard to worry after; determined to never let the mask slip as he raced through life with a smile. 

1400 miles away she ached to be beside him; so lonely in her knowledge of him. She worked to comfort herself by tracing the titles on the spines of the books he’d left behind. Over and over. Over and over. With blurring vision and an unfocused mind, she slipped into a well-deserved sleep. The sun streamed so gently through the window of Jake’s room. A touch of light tugging her from her slummer had been a welcome change from the jarring wake-up call she had at home. Two siblings who had yet to figure out how to make themselves breakfast without bickering or clattering plates. The smell of fresh coffee and pancake batter wafted up from downstairs. 

The bedroom door squeaked as she opened it, and underfoot the floorboards in the old farmhouse creaked, each step down the staircase punctuated with the sonance of more than a hundred years of life. In the Seresin house, the noises reminded her of the generations who had come and gone, it was easy to imagine the lives that had been lived within the walls. Across the yard, the similar shifts and groans of her childhood home echoed like ghostly calls; the whispers warning of a life liable to be wasted if she stuck around. 

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” Mrs Seresin smiled, setting an extra spot at the kitchen table. His mother had always been the kindest person she’d known. Despite the undisputable reality that her son’s girlfriend had all but broken into her home, she welcomed her with open arms, asking if she wanted blueberries in her pancakes. 

The longer they went without mentioning the elephant in the room the easier it became for her to slouch a bit in her seat, appreciating each bite of the breakfast that had been offered to her. Nineteen years of being in rooms out of necessity rather than desire had made it difficult to trust other’s interest in her well-being.

 Feeling her shoulders drop in relief left her feeling something like a stray cat brought in to shelter from the storm; glad to accept Mrs Seresin’s kindness, but uneasy all the same. She had grown used to being weary of tenderness and generosity; always waiting to hear the conditions of the beneficence. 

Sipping her coffee, Mrs Seresin smiled over the lip of the mug. “If you want to stay a little longer, you could help me go through some of Jake’s old clothes. Some of them would probably fit Jackson now”. Her words reached like an olive branch across the table, and for a moment she understood that perhaps the older woman wasn’t just benevolent for the sake of it, not on this day at least. With her only living child out of the house she had been lonely in her need to mother someone, and glad just for the company as unorthodox as the circumstances may have been. She’d been glad to learn that some glint of selfishness lingered in everyone, and in a strange turn, it only made her trust the woman more. 

She hadn't expected a pile of folded sweatshirts to make her cry, and yet in a blink of an eye, she found herself sobbing. A flicker of hurt rushed through her with the realization that some things will always matter more to her than they do to anyone else. Just another piece of clothing to Jake, another part of her task for the day to his mother. But she was holding the world in her hands. 

She remembers that sweatshirt well, red and worn out by time, always just a bit too tight in the shoulders, the seams stretching at the sleeves. He was wearing it the night he picked her up from her first date.

Bobby Dunbar had been two years older than her, and had no idea of the meaning of the word ‘no'. She left him alone in the movie theatre after he'd tried to creep a hand up her skirt for the second time. With a quick call from the closest payphone, Jake was on his way to pick her up without questions. 

Together, they drove out of town and past their homes the sun dipping down below the seemingly endless horizon. Overhead the stars had begun to make themselves appreciable against the backdrop of the darkening sky. Parked, they lay in the bed of the truck looking up at the sky ahead. He took care to trace the constellations for her, naming them as he went. In the meantime, her fingertips copied the shapes with invisible lines across his chest. The well-loved red sweatshirt was soft beneath her cheek. 

He kissed her for the first time that night. Not her first kiss, but the first one that mattered. Jake always had this ability to make her world stop spinning, even if just for a moment. Sitting on the edge of his bed sobbing into the sweater she wanted nothing more than to be near him, to hear him tell her everything was going to work out for them in the end.

“I got my scholarship,” she told Mrs. Seresin, “I'll start in the fall, and I'll be able to live on campus”. 

“That's amazing news sweetheart,” her affirmation, so much like her son’s. 

“It's a lot farther for Jake to drive. I won't be here to check on Jackson and Olivia. My mo--”

“They'll be alright. It's high time you live your dream, honey”. 

At nineteen years old, she struggled to understand that sometimes the beginning feels like the end. A pit growing in her stomach, she clutched the bags of hand-me-down clothes as she headed home. The sky above was dotted with the same stars Jake had taught her about years ago, she stood still for a moment trying to remember the feel of his lips, or the comfort of his hand in hers, but only felt the cool evening breeze.

Twenty-one felt like wearing a costume. Joining the Navy. Getting good grades. Helping on the farm whenever he had an ounce of free time. Being a good son, being a good boyfriend. He was playing dress-up in a life that wasn’t built for him, and yet he found himself so desperate to play the part. 

The first few months away had been excruciating. Most nights he chugged Pepto-Bismol before going to bed, hoping that the tearing feeling in his chest was just heartburn, and not just his soul stretching across four states. It had been the longest they’d ever been separated; smashing the previous record of the one week he spent with his aunt and uncle when he was ten. 

He won’t blame her for the divide that grew between them, but he knows that the ache in his chest cracked into a chasm sometime after she moved onto her college campus. 

The commute to see her was longer, his back was stiff, and his eyes were tired after driving hours, and crisscrossing state lines. The time they spent together was almost exclusively spent sleeping or skipping around their desperate need to return to what they once were, all while refusing to give up their dreams.

 Two years into her degree he was exhausted. On base, his bed was assembled for practicality, not for comfort. Hard, uneven mattress and nights spent cold beneath the covers without the warmth of her body tucked against him. His bunkmates all snored, and the hustle and bustle of those still working during his allotted sleeping hours kept his mind alert even as his body dosed. In her dorm room, her duvet was plush and cozy, her pillows smelt like her shampoo, and she snuggled as close to him as physically possible on the nights he managed to make it to her. But her roommate was nosy and made it almost impossible for him to love on his girlfriend. Unable to touch her as freely as he yearned to-- and even worse, unable to speak as freely as he needed to, his feelings threatened to choke him. Lost without the level of communication that had become their life preserver for years, he felt as though he was drowning. 

At twenty one he asked his father for his grandmother’s engagement ring. A family heirloom he’d always known he’d propose with one day. He would make good on the promises he made. They would get married and he’d buy them a house-- he had already managed to save quite a bit. It was not a lack of love that broke them, but perhaps an excess of it. A shared desperation to do more, and be better; both of them hell-bent on clawing their way out of the ruts they’d found themselves stuck in. And with so much to prove it had been impossible to climb without letting go of each other. 

He was down on one knee when his heart was ripped from his chest. For a moment he felt it was impossible to breathe. His mind was silent, too stunned to think and too confused to speak. She was still shaking her head when he finally found the strength to look up at her again. “No,” she said. “I thought--”

“I’m sorry-- I can’t. I won’t. It’s not fair,” she told him. Certainly not fair, he thought desperate to understand. But when had life ever been fair? “I can’t,” she repeated. He watched, hopeless, as she shrunk in on herself. The bright, brilliant girl he’d spent more than half his life loving shied away from him, hiding behind a shame he couldn’t find a source for.

As he slowly made his way back to his feet, with the ring box shoved back into his coat pocket, she spoke again. “I think it would be better if we spent some time apart”. That he had not been expecting, and the words nearly had him keeling over; a brutal blow that knocked the air from his lungs. He found himself helpless, unable to do anything but nod. All his fight sat on the tip of his tongue, pinched between his teeth, betrayed by his pain, and misunderstanding. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. For anything. For everything. But the words never came out. “I’m sorry,” she wept as she ushered him out of her dorm room. 

With one hand, and no force he held the door frame for a moment, one last longing look at the girl he knew he’d love forever. “One day we’ll be enough for each other again”. He hoped that was true. 

She carries a spark of regret in her chest, it grows when she thinks of him, and it shrinks when she remembers she freed him too. She thinks now that her denial of Jake Seresin may have been hasty. Fifteen years older, and with more perspective than she had at twenty-one, she thinks their lives could have been different if she had been brave enough to talk things out. 

Her fear of stagnation had been her only motivation for so much of her life. His proposal had been on the surface a desperate attempt to cling to a bond they had begun to outgrow. And while his intentions at their core had been pure, getting married would not have saved their relationship. She had only begun to live for herself, and he still didn’t understand that his life was his own. Their marriage would have only served as a new way to masquerade and play pretend; years of running away from the fears that kept them both up at night. He would have grown to resent her inability to live without planning, and she would have hated his unintended absenteeism. Being married would not have kept his side of the bed warm, nor would it have given him any new ability to quell her anxieties. 

She still thinks of him often. From her apartment on a clear day her view of the sky seems to span for miles and miles. She pictures him up there, carving through the clouds with the dedication and precision she’s always known he’d be capable of. She imagines him happy, living his dream. She hopes he’s proud of himself, and she prays that he knows that she’s proud of him too. 

Sometimes, she lets herself wonder if he ever settled down; offered his grandmother’s ring and his heart on his sleeve to some other lucky girl. She’s tried to move on herself a few times, but never made it close to feeling like she was in love. The last guy had been a year ago now, he was nice enough, handsome, had a good job, and a good sense of humour. On paper he was flawless. He’d take her out for dinner, and walk her to her door. Sometimes he spent the night. He bought her flowers, and held her hand. But on one too many occasions she felt inexplicably lonely sitting next to him. He complained that she wasn’t any fun. She struggled to explain the sense of responsibility she’d never been able to shake. She asked him about his dreams. He never seemed to have any. 

And so the hint of any spark that had been there fizzled away into nothing. 

She tells herself she’s happier on her own and decides to keep moving forward, ignoring the cracking of her heart. She uncorks a bottle of wine, dancing alone in her kitchen, looking out at the vast evening sky and the setting sun. As much as she enjoys the view from her rental, she’s been in California long enough that it might be worth buying into the housing market. Nothing fancy, but something she can truly call her own. She’s been making good money for a while now, and her siblings have made it through college themselves. Jackson moved to New York with his sights set on being an architect. Olivia moved to Austin and became a nurse. Her mother hasn’t bothered to call in ages. Her shoulders relax without the added pressure of caring for others. For the first time in a very long time, her mind is quiet--it’s finally time to write the last chapters in her own story and stop running. 

He keeps an old photograph of her in the inside of his flight suit, right over his heart. He’s living his dream, and he won’t allow himself to forget that she’s the reason why. Driving home from base at night he passes houses much larger than the bungalow he’s been renting. He wonders where she went after she graduated, and what kind of job she has now. 

He chooses to picture her happy even at the expense of his feelings; a devoted husband coming to wrap his arms around her while she stirs a pot on the stove. A scintilla of guilt makes itself known as he grows somewhat jealous of this life he's envisioned for her. The truth is that he knows she was right for turning him down. They were too young, too naive, and too frightened. Breaking up with him may have been the first time he had seen her truly put herself first, and in hindsight, he’s glad she did. He knows he’d never have been able to live with himself if he had been what stood in the way of her making her dreams come true. It took him a while to understand the gift she had given him when she sent him away. The freedom to be the man he wanted to be, and not the man anyone else needed him to be. 

He’d fucked it up more than once along the way. At work, he had become too brash, too cocky, too full of himself. He put his walls up and wore the self-assured mask he thought people wanted to see. Unwavering confidence, and determination. His return to Top Gun had been a wake-up call. He’d been forced to adapt, to let his guard down and learn how to let people in again. And for the first time since he was a teenager he appreciated the difference between being valued and being important. The realization had come with a sense of belonging and camaraderie that he hadn’t expected but couldn't afford to forget.

In his personal life, he had failed time and time again to form long-term bonds. One-night stands didn’t hurt, but the idea of waking up next to someone left him nauseous. But the truth is he yearns for that connection. He wants to be seen. He wants to be understood. He stopped going home to visit his parents two years ago, the weight of self-placed expectation chewed through him and left him hollow; guilt filled its place. 

Last week he stood back straight, with his heart full of pride as he accepted his promotion. The new rank came with a new role, and a new more permanent position. He'd be stationed in San Diego for at least five more years. He called his mother. He booked a flight home for his next break. He started browsing real estate pages. It’s time to stop running. 

She’s only made it to a couple of open houses so far but she hasn’t been able to find anything she likes yet. Most of the houses she’s seen are out of her price range. Others have been too modern, some too outdated. 

She remembers the Seresin’s kitchen, the buttery yellow walls and linoleum tiles. Their house wasn’t flashy, nor had it been renovated anytime in 1980, but it was cozy. She can remember the smell of Mrs. Seresin’s baking. In her mind's eye, she recalls the feel of the cabinet doors that Mr. Seresin had built himself when they moved in, and his wife’s initials carved into the bottom corner of the cupboard over the sink. In every way possible they had made that ordinary farmhouse a home, and she wants the same for herself now. Like everything in her life, she decided her house has to be perfect. She’ll know it when she sees it. 

The house is a two-story craftsman, built circa 1935. The siding is a garish kind of coral colour, faded by the sun, and the trims stand out in a soft vanilla colour, chipped at the edges. She’s driving home from work when she sees the sign for the open house standing proudly on the front lawn. Without a thought she pulls over, throwing the car into park. Inside, it smells like freshly baked cookies-- a real estate trick she’s learned over the last few weeks. It’s easy to imagine a house is your own when it smells so inviting. She's come to expect this, and won't let it blind her. 

Her heels click across the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the empty house. She moves past the stairs into the surprisingly spacious living room. A large window looks out onto the quiet cul-de-sac, and the room sits bathed in the soft glow of the street lights outside. She imagines the room furnished, with soft drapery, a plush sofa, tv hung above the fireplace, and she can imagine herself unwinding here. The dining room is a fair size, and the kitchen has a sliding door that opens up to the backyard. The cabinets are brand new, and the owners have spent time renovating while staying true to the charm of the house. On the countertop, she picks up the real estate agent’s pamphlets about the home, amenities and nearby schools are listed, and she wonders if she might have the chance to raise a family here. 

Overhead the sound of steady footsteps, and a pair of heels make their way down the hall and then the stairs. “If you decide to put in an offer, do not hesitate to call, in this market the early bird gets the worm,” a woman speaks. “I appreciate it, thank you,” a man replies in a low southern drawl, “do you mind if I take a look at the backyard before I head out?” “Not at all! Take your time, I’ll be out front just getting my signs if you need anything else”. 

He’s barely stepped into the kitchen when he hears his name. “Jake?” a familiar voice wonders, her arms coming immediately to wrap around him. She hits his chest with a thud, but it does move him an inch. Her name is sighed into her hairline as he holds her close. “You made it-- all the way to California,” He smiles, pulling back to get a good look at her. She’s as gorgeous as he remembers, if not more so. Her features have sharpened over time, and he thinks her hair might be darker now, but she’s glowing. Her grin is wide and her shoulders relaxed as she reaches to trace his name and rank on his uniform. “You’re flying, Jake,” she all but whispers. He nods, his eyes softening as his hand comes to rest over hers, his heart racing beneath her palm. “Turns out I’m pretty good at it,” he jokes, and is rewarded with his favourite laugh. 

His free hand lowers to rest on her hip and she steps closer, familiarity allows them to skip out on formality. He’s missed this; a shared closeness loud enough for them to speak without saying anything. He knows her like he knows the back of his own hand, and even with years passed between them, he’s able to fill in the gaps. Her clothes are well made, and well fitted. Office wear. Her shoes leave her standing tall, reminding him of senior prom and the time they spent slow dancing. He knows what she’s overcome, and he’s never had any doubt about where she would end up. Clearly successful, and if the way her smile meets her eyes is any indicator, she’s happy too. 

In all honesty, she’s not sure who leans in first, but she knows she’s kissing Jake Seresin for the first time in fifteen years. He kisses with hesitation at first but allows himself to give in to a passion grown with time. He’s more skilled than he was the first time they kissed, and she tries her best not to flush with jealousy. His cropped hair is soft where her hand reaches up to hold at the back of his head willing him closer. 

One step at a time he backs her across the room until her back meets the wall. With fingers gripping the collar of his shirt she begs him to crowd her space. She swears he’s taller now. His shoulders are broader, his arms far more defined. He’s always been handsome but the boyish charm has been replaced by something far more deadly, and she’s convinced she’d die happy if it was him stealing her breath away. 

She melts beneath him. His hand moves across her hip, down to feel the round of her ass, before his grip tightens at the flesh of her thigh, warm in her cute little dress slacks. Neither of them bothers to suppress the moans or sighs that leave them when begins to kiss down his neck. His knee slots between her legs, thudding when it makes contact with the wall, startling them both. 

“Careful. You break it you buy it, Jake”.

“I think homeownership will be good for me,” he grins catching his breath. 

“Not if I buy it first,” she quips, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she blinks up at him. He groans, his knees weak as her smile grows. “Let’s talk it out over dinner,” He manages his counteroffer. 

***

Their house smells like chocolate chip cookies, made from the recipe Jake’s mother passed down. The window in the master bedroom offers a gorgeous view of the San Diego sky. On weekends, she wakes up to the smell of coffee brewing, and Jake sliding back into bed, his hands greedy as he pulls her from her sleep with warm kisses and the promise of breakfast if they manage to make it down the stairs. 

The floorboard creaks when he comes home at night, the weight of his day shed at the door. He greets her as if he's been gone for months even when it’s only been a few hours. And he holds as if he’ll never see her again when he returns from a deployment. 

The gentle breeze that blows through the open windows of their little home carries away their lingering anxieties, and they allow themselves to soften in each other’s presence. 

They lay in the grass in their backyard, paint smeared across their clothes, brows sweaty from a hard day's work. The siding is now a fresh, pale green, the trims glow in a soft white. Above them, the stars shine. The same stars they watched as children, and loved as teens. He watches her, enamoured, as she points to the North Star tracing her way around the night sky, recalling the stories he told her about each constellation. He wonders how many lifetimes are painted in the sky above them, how many lovers have admired the stars as they have. 

She pulls him from his thoughts, rolling to settle with her knees at either side of his hips, her left hand resting on his heart. He looks at her as if he’s in awe of her, his wedding band cold on her back as his hand slides underneath her shirt. Leaning down to kiss him she’s certain this is the life she’s always been running towards. 

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within

Jake "Hangman" Serisin x Reader

He once had it all—riches, friends, fame—yet it was never enough. If only he’d seen the truth before it was too late. Now, everything has changed, and the blame lies squarely on his shoulders.

You’ve always lived with a quiet sense that something was missing, though you could never quite say what. When your father doesn’t return from a trip, concern drives you toward an unknown fate. What you find may be the adventure you’ve longed for—or the unravelling of secrets that were meant to stay forgotten.

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this or doing a challenge of the sorts, so please bear with me if it's not the best. Also, English is my second language and I speak 5, so if sometimes make mistakes or confuse words, please tell me respectfully so that I can improve. In addition, I'm still new to Tumblr, so I don't really know how to completely work it, so be patient with me. I am pretty excited to show you guys my take on my favourite fairy tale with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. I really hope you like it and enjoy it. Also, a small shoutout to @arcane-vagabond since she's the one that created this challenge and actually her work inspires me so much with how she writes and is able to transport you to other worlds. So yeah, without further outdo, thank you and hope you enjoy.

Juberous: adjective: Doubtful; undecided; hesitating.

Series;

Prologue (Published)

Chapter 1 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 2 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 3 (Published)

Chapter 4 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 5 (Published)

Chapter 6 (Published)

Chapter 7 (Published)

Chapter 8 (Published)

Chapter 9 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Published)

Chapter 10 (Published)

Chapter 11 (Published)

Chapter 12 (Coming Soon)

[arcane-vagabond]

Fairy Tale Writing Challenge

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Welcome one and all! If you know me, you know there are few things I love more than a good fairy tale! So, to commemorate 1,500 followers and the rebranding of my blog away from solely being a Top Gun: Maverick blog, I've decided to host a little writing challenge!

Rules:

You MUST be 18+ in order to participate (Your age must be listed somewhere on your blog, I will be checking.)

This writing challenge is open to all fandoms!

This challenge will run continuously.

Send me an ask/message to let me know that you're participating!

You MUST choose both a fairy tale and a word for this challenge! Only one person per word prompt. I will add more if I need to.

Tag/message me when you've posted!

Can be a one-shot, two-parter, or series!

Please use the "read more" feature if your fic is over 500 words.

Please use the hashtag "FTWC" so we can read and reblog your work!

You don't have to follow, but reblogging this post would be nice to get the word out there!

How does this work?

You will pick a fairy tale and then one word from the prompt list. You must incorporate that word somehow whether by using it in the prose itself, or by giving your fic that overall feeling.

If there is a fairy tale you would like to do that is not listed, shoot me a message and I will add it!

Message me if you have any questions!

Entries;

🧸 @arcane-vagabond w/ The Little Mermaid and Desiderium

Fathoms Below - Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @baezen w/ Jack and the beanstalk and Petrichor

A Perilous Place - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @sorchathered w/ Little Red Riding Hood and Apricity

Little Red and Her Wolf - Bucky Barnes (MCU)

🧸 @kissmecaitie w/ Beauty and the Beast and Acrimonious

🧸 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Cinderella and Sonder

🧸 @hardlyinteresting w/ Peter Pan and Scintilla

🧸 @goldenseresinretriever w/ The Steadfast Tin Soldier and Adust

🧸 @queenofvelaris w/ Sleeping Beauty and Labyrinth

🧸 @elizabeth-holland24 w/ Beauty and the Beast and Juberous

The Beast Within - Jake "Hangman" Seresin (TGM)

🧸 @devil-angel-winchester w/ Rapunzel and Avidulous

Fairy Tales;

👑 The Little Mermaid

👑 Cinderella

👑 Snow White

👑 Sleeping Beauty

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Little Red Riding Hood

👑 Jack and the Bean Stalk

👑 Goldilocks and the Three Bears

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Peter Pan

👑 The Ice Queen

👑 Beauty and the Beast

👑 Hansel and Gretel

👑 The Frog Prince

👑 Alice in Wonderland

👑 Pinocchio

👑 Rumpelstiltskin

👑 the Six Swans

👑 The White Snake

👑 The Princess and the Pea

Prompts;

⭐️ Acrimonious: Deeply or violently bitter

⭐️ Adust: Of a gloomy appearance or disposition

⭐️ Apricity: The warm rays of sun in the winter

⭐️ Avidulous: Somewhat greedy

⭐️ Desiderium: An ardent desire or longing; especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

⭐️ Dyspathy: Lack of sympathy

⭐️ Effervescent: Lively, full of energy, bubbly

⭐️ Epeolatry: Admiration of words

⭐️ Eudaemonia: The state of being lucky

⭐️ Futz: To pass time in idleness

⭐️ Graumangere: A great meal

⭐️ Hiebal: Of or relating to winter

⭐️ Hokum: Out-and-out nonsense

⭐️ Juberous: Doubtful and hesitating

⭐️ Labyrinth: A complex set of passageways

⭐️ Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness

⭐️ Peripatetic: A nomad; someone who travels from place to place

⭐️ Petrichor: The smell of earth after the rain

⭐️ Raconteur: Someone who's very good at telling stories

⭐️ Scintilla: A trace or spark of something

⭐️Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a full life of experiences, emotions, and problems just like you

⭐️ Sonorous: A deep and full sound

⭐️ Wassail: Mulled wine

[sorchathered]

Little Red and her White Wolf- part 1

Summary- There is a monster that lurks in the woods surrounding the tiny village of Jertfă, will hatred and prejudice bring it to ruin? Can love survive in such desolate times? James believes it can, no matter the price.

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings- Violence, language, 18+ content (maybe?), drinking.

Prompt- Little Red Riding Hood + Apricity

A/N-My contribution to @arcane-vagabond Fairytale Writing Challenge

James Barnes had lived on the outskirts of Jerftă his whole life, a small village of no consequence in comparison to the neighboring kingdom of Sluyocan but it was home and had been for generations. Lush dark forest surrounded them on all sides, beautiful but dangerous, not that it had ever stopped him from sneaking out into the thicket to explore. He’d tried to be good and listen to his father’s orders he really had but what teenage boy doesn’t go looking for trouble, especially when there’s a pretty girl to keep him company? Scarlet was the blacksmith’s daughter, long auburn hair and bright green eyes, a pint sized vessel of mischief if he’d ever seen one.

She had been his best friend since they were small, but somehow as the years went on a change sparked between them, she had always been beautiful but now there was something more. He longed for her, when she wasn’t around she consumed his every thought, sometimes of things that he knew he shouldn’t ever think of his best friend, let alone an unmarried woman. His family wasn’t considered respectable enough for him to ask for her hand, they were just woodsmen by trade, they provided a service but it wasn’t profitable enough to raise a family, let alone marry someone of her social standing. He dreaded the day when she would become betrothed, and the older they became the more that fear gnawed at him, well that and knowing his impending fate, the one all Barnes men succumbed to at the age of 18.

His family carried the curse of the wolf, every man in his bloodline for over a hundred years was taken by the fever on their 18th birthday, forced to turn on the full moon every month. The week of his birthday arrived and his nerves were shredded to ribbons, his parents continued to assure him that no one would be harmed and he would be protected but it did little to calm him.

The hits continued to beat him down when Scarlet showed up at his door before the sun had even risen, tear stained eyes shining at him as she told him the worst news either of you could ever hear. She was to be married to the preacher’s son, Jonathan Walker and it was to be finalized within a fortnight. James couldn’t bear her tears, she pulled him out to the edge of the woods and buried herself in his arms as she sobbed, wishing now more than ever that he could take her far away and make her his. She kissed him as the sky blazed orange with the sun's first rays, professing the love he’d always hoped she’d reciprocate and he felt his heart break even further, if he could just get past this first transformation perhaps he could control it and the two of you could make your escape, but even that was a fantasy because deep down he knew the moment she became privy to the truth she would run from him as fast as she could. He couldn’t blame her, he thought bitterly, how could she be expected to carry the weight of this curse? To know that one day your children would also carry it? It would be better to let her marry the Walker boy and suffer through the heartbreak knowing she would always be safe and taken care of.

The night of his 18th birthday came all too soon, the transformation excruciating as his bones shifted and stretched to become the wolf, his brothers and father tearing through the dark woods into the night as they roamed the damp earth in their beastly form, and when the sun came up and he became himself again it felt as though he was lighter somehow, like he’d always been missing a part of himself and the wolf had filled that void. They trudged back to the village all laughter and jubilation but when they reached the square something was amiss; everyone was gathered and two bodies lay in the center, the body of Preacher Walker’s youngest daughter Rebecca, and another he didn’t recognize. She was barely 16, apparently caught up in a scandal with a local boy in the woods when they were attacked by a powerful creature, ripping their insides to shreds and taking their hearts.

James looked to his father in fear; there was only one creature who could cause this kind of violence, the very kind he had become mere hours earlier. A hunting party was arranged immediately, the men at the tavern reciting old tales they’d heard for generations of a wolf-like creature that ate the hearts of the innocent, stirring up unrest in the townsfolk as they led the charge with torches and weapons. Scarlet had snuck from her home, looking for James through the throngs of villagers, pulling him into an alleyway when he crossed her path and holding him close. “You can’t be here, you know it’s unsafe! Get back home and lock your doors, dragostea, I mean it.” She looked up at him in desperation, she was scared for her brother and father of course, but if anything happened to James she would never be able to bear the loss. “Don’t go, please just stay here so I know you’re safe, if something happened to you-“ he kissed her quickly and squeezed her hand, if anyone was to see you both her honor would be destroyed. “Nothing is going to happen to me darling, we are going to find this creature and then you and I are going to run away from here. But I can’t protect you if you don’t protect yourself so please if you love me, go back home.”

She cried all the way back to her house, looking back as she watched the group fade into the night. She didn't know what creature had done this but she knew one thing for certain; someone in her family knew the answer. Diverting her path and crossing the square she made her way to another cabin on the outskirts of the village, the home of her grandmother, Corinna. Many claimed her to be a witch, her home covered in wards and trinkets to keep the evil at bay, but she was simply an apothecary, making salves and tonics of herbs to heal the sick and injured as her mother had done before her. Surely she could help, and Scarlet was desperate for a solution. If anyone could give her the guidance she sought, it would be her beloved grandmother.

Tagging- @arcane-vagabond @baezen

[aworldinsideaperson]

Derek Hale

“I’m not a beast, I’m a man. A man who’s lost everything, including his humanity.”

Fairytale Writing Challenge

[babeydollx]

Snuggles & Warmth

Warnings: cursing, smut, fluff, cockwarming, snuggles, some aftercare

Pairings: Riven x Female Fairy Reader

Summary: In which after Riven and Y/N have sex, they snuggle together and cockwarm.

© Maybanks-Luver 2023, please do not steal, copy, repost, or translate my work.

Riven finished using the warm cloth on your skin and he put it in the bathroom before coming back out and laying down beside you. You smiled and slowly crawled over to your boyfriend before laying down beside him. "Hey." Riven said with a smile. "Hi.." You said with a small giggle. You played with his fingers and then looked up at the brunette boy above you.

"Baby?" You asked softly. "Yeah?" He asked as he looked down at you. "I know we've done having sex for the night but, can I at least keep it warm for you?" You asked with a giggle and a small smirk as your hand slid down to the bulge in his sweatpants. Riven smirked a little as you did so. "Well, since you asked so nicely." He said with a smile as he leaned down and kissed you.

The two of you made out for a few minutes before you crawled onto your boyfriend. You pulled off your baggy night shirt before pulling off Riven's sweatpants. You positioned yourself on top of him before slowly sinking down onto his cock, causing both of you to sigh out in pleasure. Once his dick was all the way inside of your cunt, you laid down on top of Riven resting your head on his chest.

He smiled and gently played with your soft hair before kissing the top of your head making you smile and giggle softly. You always felt so lucky to have Riven in your life. You honestly didn't know what you would do without him. You needed him. Riven also didn't have much luck himself when it came to love but, when it came to you, you were the first women he truly felt in love with.

You used your fingers to gently draw invisible shapes on your boyfriend's chest. The feeling of Riven caressing your head was making you sleepy. You yawned softly and he smiled as you grew tired. Your eyes gently fluttered shut and you quietly fell asleep laying on top of Riven while he held you in his arms.

Author's Note: tysm for reading!

[baezen]

a perilous place masterlist

ISAAC LAHEY X OFC PRINCESS!ALEXIA

JACK THE GIANT SLAYER!AU

summary: in which the once sought after magic beans that the Dread Doctors of Beaconia once crafted have found their way into the hands of an orphaned peasant boy who opens a gateway between the worlds. warnings: violence, revenge, treachery, gruesome deaths, word count: [tbd]

prompt: jack and the beanstalk + petrichor for @arcane-vagabond fairytale writing challenge

author's note: this is basically a rewrite of the jack the giant slayer movie don't come for me

coming soon | masterlist

other content:

moodboard

[ao3feed-scackson]

FTWC: A New Purpose

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/FJ7VjS1 by DarkPlotBunnyFarm Jackson discovers some things about the True Alpha and finds himself two new toys in the process (rape warning due to dubious consent and complete disregard of the word "no"). This story is part of a collection that includes various filthy Teen Wolf stories, which are not connected to each other. Words: 1010, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Filthy Teen Wolf Collection (FTWC) Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Rafael McCall, Jackson Whittemore Relationships: Scott McCall/Jackson Whittemore, Rafael McCall/Scott McCall, Rafael McCall/Jackson Whittemore Additional Tags: Barebacking, Blackmail, Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Slut, Creampie, cum dump, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Facials, Father/Son Incest, Fingerfucking, Grooming, Humiliation, Implied Mpreg, Large Cock, Manipulation, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Prompt Fill, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Slut training, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Submission, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/FJ7VjS1

[lesbianologist]

i kind of want to write an angsty fic about saul being madly in love with andreas and them being two dads co-parenting sky (andreas being sky’s bio dad and saul being his adopted dad) and then saul feeling a lot of guilt over what he did but the only person who knows what he did is farah. suddenly farah is gone, andreas is alive, saul is arrested for the attempted murder, and saul can’t turn to the one woman who understood his remorse/guilt. that’s not to say that he loved farah in a romantic sense (in this hc) just that he and farah had a very unique understanding of each other and now that she’s gone/nowhere to be found and andreas is alive and he has a lot of complicated feelings and doesn’t know what to think. or how to act. like, imagine: his lover is alive, his adopted son can’t trust him, his best friend is missing, like, oUCH the angst. 

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a boy born for great things, cradled by golden light and praised by the lips of many. From the moment he took his first breath, the world seemed to expect greatness from him—a prince with the weight of his family’s legacy resting heavy on his young shoulders. He was destined to be perfect, to lead with grace and power. Yet, though he was admired by all, the one thing he was never shown was love.

His parents, noble and proud, were distant figures, preoccupied with the kingdom and their own ambitions. The boy grew up in a palace filled with treasures but devoid of warmth. When his parents died in a mysterious accident, that sense of duty became a suffocating burden. Left to rule in their absence, the boy had no choice but to wear the mask of strength. And so, with each passing year, he became more of a prince in name than in heart, handsome and charming on the outside, but hollow within.

As he grew into a young man, wealth, power, and admiration swirled around him like an unrelenting storm. He had it all, and yet, it was never enough. His desires were insatiable—more fame, more women, more distractions to fill the void in his soul. His heart, untouched by true kindness, grew colder with each passing year. If only he had been wiser, more compassionate, perhaps his fate would have been different.

It was on the night of one of his grand masquerade balls that everything changed. His palace was alive with music and laughter, nobles dancing in the opulence of his court, celebrating the future king. But Jake Seresin, the dashing prince known to all as Hangman, was nowhere to be found amidst the revelry.

High above the celebrations, on the balcony of his tower, Jake stood alone, staring at the horizon as if seeking an answer in the distant stars.

"It's strange, isn't it, Bradley?" Jake murmured, his voice low and tired. "I have everything a man could want, yet when I look out there, I feel like I have nothing. People have always swirled around me like snowflakes—each one free, each one melting away before I can grasp them. Always wanting something from me, but never really seeing me."

Bradley, his ever-loyal friend, sighed beside him. "You can dwell on it later, Jake. Right now, you're their Hangman. You have to be what everyone expects—the prince your parents raised you to be. That's your destiny."

Jake hummed in response, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. His gaze wavered for a moment, uncertainty creeping into his expression—a rare vulnerability. In truth, something about the night felt different, unsettling. For the first time, he felt juberous, caught between the life he had always known and a nagging sense that something darker, something irreversible, was looming just beyond the horizon.

With a resigned swig of his drink, he pulled his mask over his face. "Then let’s show them just how good a prince I can be."

As the party below raged on, Jake descended into the crowd, his presence electrifying the room. True to form, he became the Hangman everyone admired—arrogant, reckless, and magnetic. He danced and drank, flirting with ladies, exchanging shallow pleasantries with nobles, all feeding his growing ego. Yet beneath the mask, the emptiness gnawed at him, the void deepening with every hollow laugh.

But as the clock struck midnight, a heavy knock echoed through the hall, silencing the festivities. The grand doors creaked open, revealing an old man, weathered and frail, his eyes tired but wise.

"Your Highness," the man said, his voice barely a whisper. "I seek your help. My horse has left me stranded in the forest, and I am too weak to continue my journey. I ask only for shelter and a small kindness. In return, I offer you my eternal gratitude—and this rose."

For a moment, silence blanketed the room, until it was shattered by laughter, sharp and mocking, echoing from every corner of the hall. Jake stepped forward, his lips curling in disdain.

"Do you think a rose and your gratitude will repay me for this interruption? You’ve ruined my party, old man. Get out before you make things worse."

With a flick of his hand, Jake motioned to the guards, who moved to drag the old man away. But before they could reach him, the air in the room shifted—a cold, biting wind swirling through the hall as a blinding light filled the space. When it dimmed, the old man was gone, and in his place stood a towering figure, his eyes glowing like shards of ice.

"You are deceived by your own heart of stone," the figure intoned, his voice a deep, reverberating echo. "For your cruelty, you and all within this palace are cursed. Until the day you learn to love and be loved in return, you shall remain a beast, hidden from the world you once ruled."

The curse fell like a heavy shroud, consuming the castle and its inhabitants. The prince—now twisted into a form that matched his cold, selfish soul—was forgotten by the world. The kingdom moved on, unaware of the boy who had once been its pride.

And so, Jake was left to wander the desolate halls, his reflection unrecognizable, his heart burdened with doubt. Time passed, and though the world forgot, the curse remained. The prince and his court were trapped, waiting for the one thing he had always pushed away—true, selfless love.

A/N: So here is the prologue, I hope you like it and are excited as I am. Thank you all for the love and support. Please comment, like or reblog to show me that you're liking it also, feel free to comment or text me your theories as to which character is going to be playing who in the original tale. See you next time <3

[arcane-vagabond]

I would like to partake in FTWC! I would like to do sleeping beauty and “Labyrinth” if that isn’t taken yet :)

You got it, Hobbit!! 🫡

[sorchathered]

Little Red and her White Wolf moodboard

[aworldinsideaperson]

The Rose

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Summary: Once upon a time the youngest son of a small kingdom found himself as king after a tragedy took his whole family. A tragedy executed by the kingdom who’d once loved them. A tragedy he brought upon his home. Now a recluse who has allowed his kingdom to fall to ruins Derek Hale finds a poor merchant stealing from his beloved garden after being shown a night of hospitality. In exchange for his own life the merchant offers his youngest daughter as sacrifice to a beastly man in his enchanting castle. With his beautiful captive now living across the hall Derek must find a way to keep his secrets. All of them.

Warnings: Death, Loss of family, Imprisonment. Others as the story unfolds.

Prompt: Beauty and the Beast & Acrimonious: Deeply or violently bitter

@arcane-vagabond’s Fairytale Writing Challenge

The Rose

Coming Soon

Moodboards

The Rose

Derek

Chérie

[alecslightwood]

The Farewell Teen Wolf Challenge: Day 3&4 ↳ Favorite Teen Wolf girl “Lydia Martin is not only beautiful, not only incredibly intelligent, she’s immune.”

[winx-canons]

f*te is really out here not even doing the bare minumum huh

[mistyxaesthetic]

The first line in Fate: The Winx Saga is “Feck’n sheep.” And then the third line is “Feck’n sheep.”