#this series has grown so much that im almost afraid for it to be over

[nefertittythegreat]

Hello, I was relieved to see a kind and reasonable reblog as opposed to what I've been exposed of the fandom these past days... You can privately answer this ask or not at all, I'd hate for you to get blocked by mutuals in the fandom LOL (guess who that happened to, whoops?) I wanted to ask you about the Ferdinand fic idea that got you stonewalled?

First, I'm not afraid to be seen interacting with you! You're one of the few people who interact with me directly in the fandom, when I have literally been dying for some sort of aob interaction. I have so much love for you already, though we've only interacted a few times! It will be a shame if my mutuals block me because of this. I understand they probably want to curate their blog to avoid any AoB hate. Sometimes, you just want to keep the good times rolling, and I get that.

It would be a shame since you and me differ in opinions on a lot regarding Aob. If you ingested any of my content, you would know. For one, I'm a fervent Fermyne shipper, and I'm a Ferdinand lover. My blog will always reflect that. I mean, i have a multiple fermyne post on my blog, but at the same time, I'm in the minority(?) that prefer Sylvester over Ferdinand. Funnily enough, when i joined the fandom over 2 years ago, speaking well about Sylvester was almost unheard of. I was still at the beginning of part 3 and couldn't understand, but in part 4, I got it even if I disagreed because he's just a good boy okay? He's trying his best😭😭

Either way, even though I wasn't interacting directly with the fandom, I learned early on that the nail that sticks out will be hammered down in this fandom. And my own interactions outside of tumblr haven't been pleasant. If me a person who falls primarily in the majority regarding my opinions is feeling this then i can only imagine what someone who has interpreted the series in a different way feels and I know I must not be alone in this feeling.

I want this fandom to be a place where we can discuss freely without fear. I want this fandom to feel welcoming. I've been a part of so many fandoms, and too many of them are toxic.

I'm sorry you're getting hate. I haven't seen it in the notes, so I'll assume you're either deleting it or it's in your asks. If so, I am disappointed with us a group. I understand loving something so strongly that you feel attacked, but interacting and analyzing in the way that you do is a form of love as well and has its place in fandom.

I believe we've grown in number here on tumblr over the past two years, and it's time to organize ourselves better to prevent stuff like this from happening in the future and help everyone curate their own experience as we navigate the main tag. To be honest, I'm not even sure if we have an "official" acronym for the series yet(Are we AoB or AoaB?), but I could just be out of the loop. Maybe we should have a tag specifically for discussions and analysis in this fandom?

I'm gonna be tagging this because I feel we as a community need to think on this, and im willing to start that discussion. I just want this fandom to be as welcoming and fun as possible for everyone. We are all never gonna completely agree, but we can have fun together on here like I believe we have been.

[jeonqqin]

WOW (she's hot) THERE ARE ACTUAL TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE RN??? HOW IS YOHR WRITING SO GOOD?? FROM HYUNAE BEING LOWKEY HEARTBROKEN, TO JISUNG BEING HEARTBROKEN, TO Y/N BEING HEARTBROKEN, AND TO MY BB CHAN BEING HEARTBROKEN JUST MAKES ME HEARTBROKEN?? WE'RE ALL JUST HEARTBROKEN AND IN OUR FEELS TONIGHT??? but really thank you sm for this chapter I think its probably my favorite one so far💕💕💕 ilysm author-nim

FUCK WTHHHHHHHHHHH

YALL CANT DO THIS TO ME

I don’t deserve this love??????

my heart is so warm seriously thank you so much for this sweet ask 🥺🥺 I wanna hug pls

[watchmegetobsessed]

AGREEMENT

a/n: this whole series just one big puddle of fluff lmao but i regret nothing! im having way too much fun writing these little scenarios so here is one of another milestone as a soon to be dad, feeling the baby kicking for the first time!

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.3k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

There is nothing like a lazy Saturday morning spent in bed, bodies melting together under the soft sheets as the morning Sun peeks through the blinders. You’ve been lucky enough to have more and more mornings like this since Sebastian has returned from his last job before his hiatus he has planned for the baby’s arrival. Life has been slowing down around you, the hours spent with work and endless tasks are now turning into baby shopping, lounging around at home, enjoying the time spent together as just a couple before two becomes three soon.

Ever since your stomach has grown quite significantly, you haven’t been able to sleep in any other position than on your side, your belly kind of a burden in sleeping on your stomach at this point. In the evening you always fall asleep cuddled to Sebastian’s side, using him as your human-sized pillow, but somehow by the morning you seem to switch the position and it’s always him spooning you from behind, one arm under your head, his other one draped over your waist, hand protectively sprawling out on your bump. He has been obsessed with touching your stomach, amazed by the magic that’s happening to your body during pregnancy and he always sneaks his hands to your bump in every scenario, which you absolutely don’t mind. You love feeling his warm touch, his fingers caressing the stretched out skin, especially when he pays extra attention to your stretch marks that started to appear just a few weeks ago. At first you were a little anxious about them, afraid that they wouldn’t go away and you’d never be able to look at your body the same way, but he was quick to shut down every and any insecurities you were having.

“Baby, nothing can change the way I’m so grateful and amazed by everything you do for our little one. Those marks? Love them, if they are not gonna fade, I know you’ll rock them,” he told you one day when it came up. You almost started crying at his words, not sure how you scored such an amazing man.

Now as Sebastian slowly wakes, eyes squeezing gently, but still closed, his first instinct is to brush his hand over your bump, gently tickling the skin while you’re still fast asleep. He loves the way it curves into his hand, like it was made for him to touch. You stir in your sleep, pushing yourself up against him even more and he can’t help a lazy smile as he kisses your shoulder gently, just enjoying holding you in this blissful moment.

He almost falls back asleep a little when he feels the tiniest movement under his hand, something he hasn’t been able to catch before and his eyes almost immediately shoot open.

The baby started moving around a few weeks ago, the first time it was so weird and unexpected, but you’ve come to enjoy her little movements around, however she refused to move when Sebastian was touching your belly, waiting to feel her, but getting absolutely nothing. It’s like she knew when it was his hand on your stomach and not yours, staying still on purpose so he couldn’t feel her. That’s why he is now so excited as he feels a limb, a hand or maybe a tiny foot pushing against your belly from the inside, meeting his warm palm for the first time ever.

“Oh my God!” he whispers to himself, lifting his head up to see your stomach, hoping to get another little kick. “Babe, baby wake up!” he gently nudges you, only earning a growl as you bury your head deeper into the pillow. “I felt her! She moved!” he whispers in excitement, like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“Mm, just five more minutes,” you mumble, not even processing what he said.

“Y/N, she just kicked and I felt it!” he repeats, kissing your shoulder again, his hand now gently moving around your stomach, hoping to feel another movement.

“I felt it too, I really hope she is not trying to find my bladder,” you mumble under your breath, making the man behind you laugh.

“Do you think she’ll move again?” he asks, completely in awe of what he just experienced. You let a lazy smile tug at your lips as you take his hand on your stomach, move it around a little until you stop right under your navel.

“This is usually her spot, let’s see if she’ll kick for daddy again,” you hum, as Sebastian rests his chin on your shoulder as you’re still lying on your side, the two of you patiently waiting for something to happen. You can tell he is starting to give up, accepting that your little one is not gonna move again now that he is waiting for it, but then it finally happens.

A tiny foot kicks on your stomach from inside, right under Seb’s palm, making him gasp at the feeling and you can’t get enough of these reactions he always has for everything about this baby. You can’t believe there was even a moment when you were anxious about even telling him that you’re pregnant. This man was born to be a father and you’re the luckiest woman that you get to go through this all with him.

“I can’t wait to meet her, oh my God,” he breathes out as he leans down and kisses your cheek and temple softly.

“Not long is left,” you sigh, a little nervous about giving birth, but you’re trying to stay calm and collected.

You turn around so you can face him, arms snaking around his neck to pull him down for a sweet good morning kiss before he scoots down on the bed so his face is at your belly. Hands on each side of it, he presses a kiss to the naked skin as you run your fingers through his hair, playing with the locks that are getting longer now, outgrowing his usual clean ‘do.

“Hi there, little one. Are you enjoying the mama hotel?” he starts talking to the baby and you can’t help the grin that plasters across your face. “I know it’s warm and nice, but I can’t wait to meet you out here. Your mom and I are very excited for your arrival.”

“And a little nervous,” you add chuckling. Seb smiles up at you with those pretty blue eyes you are hoping your daughter will have too as he nudges his nose against your belly.

“Just a little, because we want to do everything right. But you’re gonna be a good girl and be patient with us, right?”

No answer comes, but he takes the silence and stillness as her agreement on the deal.

“You’re gonna let us sleep through the night, right?”

“Don’t even dream of that, baby,” you laugh, knowing well even if she’ll be a good sleeper you’ll have to wake up a few times still during the nights.

“Alright, alright. But cry just enough to wake me up, so I can take care of you and so your mom can sleep as much as she wants,” he then corrects the deal and your heart swells at how much he wants to take care of not just the baby but you as well.

“I think she agrees,” you smile down at him, running your fingers down the side of his face.

“Great, good talk, I’ll hold you onto this agreement. Love you, little one,” he hums, pressing another kiss to your stomach before he pushes himself up to meet your face again, capturing your lips in a quick kiss. “And I love you too.”

“I love you too. And she does too, even if she doesn’t like to make an appearance for you,” you chuckle, running a hand along your stomach.

“No, I get it. She is bonding with her mom for now. It’s all good, I’ll have all the time with her when she is here,” he smirks so proudly and you already know that this little one will be such a daddy’s girl.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

taglist

@geek-and-proud​ @lharrietg​

[soggycheezit]

Multi x Witch reader

ghostbur, techno, Philza, dream, sapnap, ranboo (Platonic),

She/her pronouns :)

Sfw

Platonic and romantic

this is going to be a multi part series, starting with ghostbur <3

Third person POV

1/6

PLEASE READ THE AUTHORS NOTE AT THE BOTTOM.

********************

it was a late night, Ghostbur couldn’t help but enjoy nights like these. they reminded him of being alive. sure, he didn’t have many memories from alivebur, but he knew that Will loved laying in the forest on nights like these. he liked laying on the forest floor with his family, pointing out weird bugs and looking at the stars.

his family.

after Wilbur died, Philza and techno distanced themselves, espesually Philza. he said he couldn’t bare to look at him. he said that ghostbur always had that look in his eyes, the same look wilbur gave him when he was killed. Killed by his own father. they didn’t like ghostbur. tommy was always angry at him for what Wilbur did. he didnt remember much of what he did, he just knew it was bad. he hurt people. he was sorry.

amidst Ghostbur’s thinking, he stumbled upon a little cabin in a plains. it looked very cozey, a nice night time house maybe. ghostbur made his way through the wall and looked around. it was dark and quiet, it was fully furnished, beautifully decorated. it smelled of cinnamon and nector. someone must live here,

“ I wonder where they are” he thought to himself.

he floated over to the bed, and laid himself down, wrapping himself around a large body pillow. 

he had almost fallen asleep, when he was woke with a start, a unheavenly shriek sounded from next to him, something jumped up from next to him, onto the floor next to his bed.

before he could say anything, even stand up, he heared a female voice whisper in the dark.

“Etiam”

 his body went still, he couldn’t move, speak, anything, panic set in.

with a snap, every candle in the room lit. to his surprise, it was a small women, dressed in a black night gown. her seemingly long hair was put in a bun, little hairs were spun in every direction. black makeup was smeared on her eyes, he assumed its from sleeping in it. her eyes were the strangest thing, he could tell they were Y/E/C, but there was a dark red tint over it.

“how dare you enter my cabin, are you here to lynch me? burn me? Like the rest of the witches of my kind? you will not take me down so easily. all you humans care about is inflicting pain on others. this land used to be beautiful, now look at it, flowers don’t even grown anymore. for what? the wretched wars? we all live here together, but you choose to fight for whos alpha, rather then try to get along. state your buisness”She sneered, when her rant was over, she waved a hand over his face, and with it, his ability to speak and move his mouth.

“Ma’am please! I apologize for entering your home, I thought it was abandoned. I am no longer human, look at my skin, it is transparent. i died long ago in one of those wars you speak of, I no longer has many connections with the humans of this land.” his voice was high pitched and afraid, never in his life, er, afterlife was he legitamently afraid, i mean, he was a ghost. how much more dead could he get? but if she was truly a witch as she claimed, then who knows what her magic could do to him.

she took a minute to look at him, his hair was fluffy, covered by a beanie. his skin was a strange gray, almost glowing. he was right, his skin was see through.

she let out a breath, and with the breath, his body was able to relax.

“I apologize for bothering you, I will be going now” he said quietly

“wait”She said as her neard the wall he intended to float through. “its raining, the rain will burn you. You can stay here for the  night. Just for tonight.”

“thank you, I apologize for scaring you, My name is Ghostbur” He said calmly

“I’m Y/N, its alright, I just can never be too careful, would you like a drink?”she asked, pulling out a clear bottle with green liquid in it

“No thank you, I do not like alcohol.”

“its not liquor”She snickored “its syrup made from violets, its the sweetest substance around”

“sure, Ill try it” she was right, the first sip was euphoria, sweeter then any pastry from niki, better then anything he has had.”

“so, Y/N, I don.t mean to entrude, but You said you were the last of you’re kind? I see a lot of witches around here, they like to stay in swamps.”

“those women aren’t real witches, they are just sad old women, hurt by the world, deadset on revenge, experts in making potions,. its sad really. I am from an anciant race of witches, we do not live to hurt people, we are children of nature.  the humans learned of our power a long time ago, and beliving we were a threat, started taking us out, coven by coven, until it was one by one. I am not the last of us, just one of the few. we all seperated when i was young, I was in the last coven, it was raided by a demon and a small dimond dwarf. we fended them off with minor casualtys, but the elders knew that if we stayed together, the humans would be able to find us easily.so at the ripe age of 6, i was sent off, we all went seprate ways. i don’t know whos still alive and whos not.” she geminced, sipping on her syrup. “what about you, ghostie?”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, 6 is such a young age. well there isn’t much to know about me, I don’t remeber much from when i was alive, i know my name was wilbur and I was the leader of a rebal army, I was a bad man, But i’m not like that anymore. the damage I did was iriversable, I no longer have a family, or friends. I just live my life exploring, floating around.”

“you don’t have a home? then what do you do when it rains, or how do you eat?”

“i usually just sit under a tree when it rains, or if im lucky i find a village. and since i’m dead i don’t really need to eat, i mean i enjoy doing it and i get hungry but it is impsoible for me to die of starvation”

“hmm, I have a proposition for you Mr.Ghost, how about, you stay here with me from now on, I will feed you and protect you from the eliments, and in return, you help me fetch  things i need for my spells and rituals, it is dangerous for me to leave alone. its a win win situation.”she said, side eyeing him.

“sounds like a deal to me”ghostbur said, smiling widly while finishing off his drink. he finally made a friend

OKAY COOL. I’m really excited about this series:D I work full time so I will not be able to post one everyday everyday, however I will try my best to not leave ya hanging for too long :) starting here with ghostbur and ending with ranboo, some will be romantic and some will be platonic, such as this. I apologize for any spelling mistakes, I typed this out on my computer lmao

[hes-writer]

Ruin

Summary: im not sure how to summarize this without spoiling the story

Warning: angst, bits of fluff here and there

Word Count; 4158 words

A/N: the long-awaited part 6 of the Tarnish series! A collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. My attention span is short itself so I've decided to split it up into two parts.

UNEDITED

___

Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.

Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the one to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.

To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.

For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.

Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.

Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.

Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.

____

Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.

Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.

“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.

She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”

And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.

“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”

She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.

One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.

It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.

Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.

“I told him the consequences if he did,”

Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.

Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.

“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.

“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”

Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.

For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.

Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.

Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.

Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.

“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.

Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.

“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.

“Let me see, baby,”

Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.

That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.

Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.

The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”

He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”

Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.

“You okay?”

She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”

Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”

Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.

Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.

He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.

Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”

Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.

She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.

“Harry, wait!”

He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”

Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”

“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.

She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”

And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.

“Got it,”

Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”

Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.

“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”

___

Where was he?

It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.

There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.

Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.

Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”

Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.

“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.

Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.

“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.

“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.

_____

Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.

He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“What d’ya think?”

She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.

What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.

Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.

Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.

“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”

She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”

He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.

Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”

Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.

She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.

Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.

Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.

Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”

Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’

“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.

He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.

“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.

Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.

___

Let us know what you thought! The seventh part of the Tarnish series will be uploaded on Patreon on Sept 29!

___

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[thefallennightmare]

Hard to Love [19/?]

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Words: 2748

Warnings: this story will have mentions of abuse, mental and physical so please read at your own risk. Some swearing, angst, and a good amount of fluff. Maybe some smut if I'm feeling frisky.

Summary: After moving to a new town all on her own, Reader would do anything for a stable job and income. Even if that means housekeeping for one of Boston's eligible bachelors. What she didn't expect was finding herself falling in love with him and finding him out about the past that she was running from.

A/N: I couldn’t leave you guys hanging all night! TBH, I’m not sure how much longer this series is going to go. I’ve got a few things in my brain but well see how long this lasts! As always, enjoy :) 

Tags: @kelbabyblue @patzammit @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @jennmurawski13 @divadinag @cosmicbreathe @thevelvetseries @capstopavenger @chris-butt @denisemarieangelina @im-a-stranger-thing @jennamarieee623 @introvertedmouse @lharrietg @thejemersoninferno  @breezykpop @instantbasementtimetravel @rodgersteves @michaelscotfield-blog1 @40srogcrs @wonderingshawn @bellaireland1981 @katelyneannxo @lady-x-red @sare-bare93-blog @annmariek8​ @raabrakha​ @stxvercgersslut​

Chris’ POV. 

A broken sigh fell from my lips as I sat on the back patio, Scott and my mom sitting at the table next to me. They had been here for the morale support, knowing that if I was still left alone, I would have gone insane. 

The bags under my eyes had darken, my facial hair had grown longer than I usually like; I hadn’t had the will to shave. My long hair was matted on my head, refusing to get off the couch to shower. I didn’t want to risk missing her phone call. 

“How long has it been?” Scott asked, his voice breaking the last ten minute silence. 

I looked at my watch and choked back a sob. “Almost 48 hours.” 

“They’ll find her, honey,” My mom rubbed my back. 

Running a hand over my face, I nodded. “I keep thinking that if we haven't fought that night, she would be home right now. I can’t believe those were my last words to her. What if that’s all she's going to remember if she di-.” 

I wasn’t able to finish my sentence, a loud sob replacing my words. 

“Chris, you can’t think like that. You have to think positive.” Scott stated. 

“How can I?!” I yelled while I stood to my feet, the chair scraping on the pavement.

“Her crazy ex husband has her! For all the cops know, he could have killed her the second he hit her with the bat!” 

My voice was deep and bellowed through my backyard. Thankfully it was only us outside so I didn't need to explain myself to anyone. 

The news of Y/N’s kidnapping unfortunately had been on every news channel local to Boston and Chad’s face was plastered all over social media, hoping any tips would pour in. My phone had non stop messages from family, friends, and fans. A lot of the fans thought it was a hoax since I hadn’t said one word about it. 

“Any tips come in online?” My mother asked. 

“Nothing, everyone thinks it’s a hoax,” I sighed. 

“Why don’t you say something?” Scott suggested. 

I looked at him skeptically. “I don’t know how that would help.” 

“You have a huge fanbase, Chris; especially around Boston. It doesn't hurt,” Scott said. 

Sucking on my bottom lip, I tossed the thought around in my head, back and forth back and forth, until I decided with a nod. Someone would be able to find something. 

I stepped away from them while pulling out my phone and clicked the live button on Instagram, taking a deep breath beforehand. The light had turned green, indicating I was live. 

“Hey everyone. I’m sure a lot of you heard the news about Y/N. First off, I want to say that it is true. She was abducted a few blocks from here almost 48 hours ago. The cops have evidence that her ex is behind it but they’re having trouble finding where he took her.” 

I ran a hand through my hair and continued. “We’ve been together for almost a year and she means the world to me; almost as much as Dodger. Hell, even more than Dodger. She’s everything to me, I need her back home. So if any of you have any information please pass it along to Boston PD. Or you can even send it to me but please, I beg you, serious leads only. I love her. Let’s bring Y/N home. Thank you guys, you are simply the best fans. I love you all.” 

The live ended and immediately I noticed the outpouring coming from everyone that had watched the live, letting me know that Y/N was in their prayers and that they would help bring her home. 

A few tears rolled off my cheeks and I let out a shaky breath, holding back the sobs. My mom snuck up behind me and wrapped herself around me, pulling into a much needed hug. 

My body crumbled in her embrace and the sobs became louder, burning our ears. I could help but grip my fingers into my moms back, even if she was shorter than I, but suddenly I was a little kid again. She always knew when I needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on. She knew exactly what I needed to get over heartbreak and she knew exactly when to back off when I needed space. 

Right now I needed her. 

After a few moments, I finally pulled away from her and thanked her with a kiss to the cheek. 

“Thanks mom,” I forced a smile to my face. 

“Of course,” she cupped my cheek, “I’m going to make you something to eat.” 

I went to protest but she immediately hushed me, saying that I looked like I hadn’t eaten in days. 

It was true. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay with you?” My mother asked.

Scott sat behind the wheel while I leaned against the window of the passenger side in front of my mom. They stayed for a few hours after dinner and when the clock struck seven, I knew that they should head back home to rest; they’d been by my side all day. 

 “I’ll be fine, I’ve got Dodger.” I nodded. 

“Chris,” she tsked. 

“Ma, I’ll be fine. If I need anything, I’ll call.” I reassured her. 

Her hand rested on my cheek and with sad eyes, she nodded. “She’ll come home.” 

“I know. What’s killing me is not knowing-.” 

“Chris?” 

Looking to my left, my shocked eyes watched in horror as the figure walked towards me. I scurried away from Scott’s car, closer to the figure. She looked broken, bare feet tore up with cuts, but what caused my lips to tremble was the blood that covered her dress. 

“Y/N?” My lips quivered. “Baby?” 

Readers POV.

The soles of my heels burned with every step I took, closer and closer to my destination. The pavement scratched and cut my bare skin and I hissed in pain after every few steps. I wasn’t sure how long I had been walking but knew that I had a bit more to go. 

A soft breeze tangled around my legs, causing the cuts to sting and I let out another hiss of pain. I pulled the jacket closer around me, blocking out the view from anyone I had walked past, which thankfully wasn’t many. I was in a part of town that the scene of me, disheveled and cut all over was nothing new. I could feel all parts of my hair was matted and stuck to my face, the sweat and blood dried a long time ago. 

As the sun began to set, I knew I had to make it back before dark. This part of town was worse at night, but compared to what I had endured, that didn’t scare me. Nothing could scare me anymore. 

Time passed slowly as the streets started to become familiar and as my tired feet turned the corner, the familiar three story home that had all those windows slowly came into view. The closer I got, the bigger the windows looked. My heart leaped into my chest when I saw him leaning against a car, talking with someone I couldn’t see. It didn’t matter, however, all that mattered what that I had made it back; back home to him. 

“Chris?” My voice was raw and broken, barley coming past my lips. 

He pushed himself off the car, taking large strides towards me. His hand outstretched and shook, afraid that I wasn’t real. 

“Y/N? Baby?” 

Everything seemed to slow as I stood in front of him, broken and a mess, knowing that with the look in his eyes that he hadn’t slept since I left. 

“Is that...blood? Oh, god, please tell me it isn’t blood,” he cried, pulling me into his arms. 

I broke down in a sobbing mess in his chest, the hell from the past few days finally catching up to me. 

“It’s not mine,” I choked between sobs. 

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you,” Chris cooed, large hands rubbing circles on my back. 

His body shook with sobs, happy that I had found my way home and sad from everything that happened to me. 

“We should get you to a hospital, baby.” Chris cupped my face. 

I wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on mine but I couldn’t force myself to close the distance; thankfully Chris understood. 

“I’m fine,” I tried to fight. 

“You’re not fine, Y/N. Please, let me take you to the hospital.” Chris begged with sad eyes. 

Eventually I nodded. I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I knew the cops would get called which meant I had to tell them what happened; something I wasn’t ready to tell. 

Silence was all we heard, threatening to pull us in deeper, as we waited for the doctor to return with the officer; they wanted to go over everything with them in the room. I agreed.  

Chris had his eyes trained hard on the floor, his body unreadable. 

“Chris?” My voice was quiet. 

He slowly looked up. “Do you need something?” 

I nodded and patted the spot next to me on the hospital bed. “Can you sit with me? I really need you right now.” 

In a flash he was up from the chair in the corner of the room and by my side, arm wrapped around my shoulder. He kissed my forehead and the warm gesture was enough to slowly heal my heart. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?” 

We both looked in the doorway and Chris greeted an officer and the doctor. 

“Baby, this is Officer Ramirez, she’s handing your case.” Chris informed me. 

The word sounded so wrong coming from his lips; your case. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The officer asked. 

I shrugged. “Better than I was earlier. The drugs helped ease the pain.” 

“Are you alright if I go over the results in front of him?” The doctor suddenly asked while nodding toward Chris. 

Linking our fingers together, I nodded. “He’s my boyfriend. He was with me for the tests, he’s staying for the results. 

It was the doctors turn to nod. “Alright. So you have two bruised ribs, a laceration to your neck, hip and hand which we all stitched up. Some bruising on your face, a black eye, and a few minor cuts on your face as well. You do have a slight concussion so do take it easy for the next week. The bottom of your feet are severely cut up and we pulled quite a few debris out of them so I recommend staying off your feet as well.” 

Chris stumbled over his words, trying to ask the one question that burned in his mind. Even though I reassured him countless times, he still needed to hear the doctor say it. 

“What about the rape kit?” He finally breathed out. 

“Negative. There was no sign of trauma and no foreign fluids. I don’t know how you survived, Ms. Y/L/N, but you are a fighter. I’ll leave you alone with Officer Ramirez.” 

After she left the room, I stole a glance at Chris who’s shoulders had eased up a bit, knowing that I wasn’t raped. I knew that it was on his mind the whole time I was gone and since I came back. 

“Are you up for giving your statement now?” Officer Ramirez asked. 

I nodded. “I need to.” 

Chris went to leave but I placed my hand on his thigh to stop him. “Please don’t leave me.” 

He nodded. “Okay, I’m right here.” 

Taking a deep breath, it came out shaky as I started telling them exactly what happened to me. 

“He had me in a run down motel room across town, I knew it was across town when I was able to escape. When he was getting ready to put on a condom,” I felt Chris’ body stiffen next to me, “I saw the knife he’d brought on the table next to the bed and I didn’t even think about it; I went for it.” 

“He was too fast and grabbed the knife before I was even off the bed. He used it on my, cutting up parts of my body. He didn’t care how loud I screamed or writhed in pain, he liked it.” 

“Uh, after he smacked my head against the wall for trying to escape, he handcuffed me to the bedpost so he could run out for something. I couldn’t hear what he said, my head was throbbing in pain. He was gone for quite awhile and I stayed locked to the bed the entire time. I remember feeling how warm and sticky my blood was as it dripped from my body.” 

I cried out, my hands shaking with the awful memories. 

Chris wrapped his arms around me to calm me down and looked at Officer Ramirez. “Can we finish this another time?” 

“No,” I shook my head while pulling away from his chest. “I have to tell them where his body is.” 

Chris’ head snapped over to me, his mouth falling agape. “Don’t say another word, Y/N. Not until I get you a lawyer.” 

“Damnit Chris, I don't want a lawyer! I did nothing wrong!,” I yelled. “That bastard, after he finally came back and unhandcuffed me, he passed out drunk in the bed next to me. I thought about running out but I knew that he would find me again. He felt me get out of bed and pulled me back down. We fought for the knife and he kept punching me in the head, smacking me against the wall. All I had was one second as he wiped my blood from his hand to reach for the knife, pushing it deep into his chest!” 

My cheeks were soaked with tears, replaying the memory of the knife going into Chad’s heart over and over again. How easily the knife slid into his chest and the sound it made hurt my ears. 

“I was so scared of what I had done that I sat in the corner of the room in the fetal position while his body went cold and ridged. I finally was able to will myself up and stole this dress from the laundry room of the hotel and walked all the way home.” 

Chris looked at me, completely helpless and broken, but knew that I needed him more than ever. While he had me in his arms, Chris looked over to the officer. 

“It’s clear what this is,” He stated. 

She nodded. “The defense attorney won’t be pressing any charges. We only needed to get her statement.” 

Chris and her chatted for a few more moments, her saying that she would be in touch, and it was finally Chris and I alone. 

“You alright?” He pulled my chin up to meet his eyes. 

“I was afraid I was going to die,” I admitted, “The only thing that kept me alive was thinking of you.” 

“You’re incredibly strong, Y/N.” Chris breathed in my hair, savoring my scent. 

Even though I was still covered in blood and sweat, not being able to shower until they collected evidence, I still smelled divine to him. 

We found ourselves laying in the hospital bed, my head on his chest, and I could feel his heart beating rapidly through his chest. 

“You can relax, I’m home now.” I reassured him. 

A stray tear fell from his eyes and I was quick to wipe it away. 

“I thought I lost you. I kept replaying our last words to each other in my head and blamed myself for what happened.” Chris admitted with a shaky breath. 

“No,” I cupped his cheek, “None of this is your fault; or mine. I’m sorry I ever compared you to him.” 

“Don’t apologize. I was being an asshole,” he stated. 

“I just want to move past this,” I sighed while laying my head back on his chest. 

Chris agreed with a kiss to my forehead. 

“I love you,” he muttered against it. 

My head shot up, looking into his eyes to see if he meant what he had just admitted. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I love you,” he said again, not missing a beat. 

Getting through the last 48 hours of hell had been worth it because not only had I survived, I made it back home to the man that loved me and who I loved. 

“I love you too,” I pressed my lips to his, feeling the familiar taste encase my tongue. 

There was a long road to recovery in front of me but I knew that it would be an easy one to walk; with Chris by my side.

[fyeahnevilleslongbottomsocs]

YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON MY SKIN, A PAINFUL REMINDER! ⚰️ CAN BE READ ON AO3

❝Catherine Cullen, born out of wedlock to the late Carlisle Cullen and Elspeth Fynch, struggled to live in the village that had ostracized her since birth. At nineteen, her only chance for survival is to sell her body; ironically this is what leads to her mortal demise. Aristide Athanasiou of the Volturi, finds a Blood Singer in the form of Catherine Cullen after intending to kill her, but he spares her. And he spares her over and over again until the painful reminder of her beating fragile heart becomes too much for him to bear.❞

part of PETALS FOR ARMOR a twilight au series of one-shots! please read tags before reading the one-shot!

warnings: mild smut, blood kink ( ??? im not sure about this but just in case ), prostitution, possessive behaviour

pairing(s): OC/OC | Carlisle Cullen/OC ( past relationship )

characters: catherine cullen ( oc ) | aristide athanasiou ( oc ) | aro ( mentioned ) | carlisle cullen ( mentioned ) | elspeth fynch ( oc )

click on ‘keep reading’ if you prefer to read this one-shot on here instead of on ao3!

RED EYES BURN into her pale freckled skin, they belong to a young man of the name Aristide. Catherine Cullen doesn't have to turn around to know it's him, he's the only one who ever looks at her. Her freckled skin and long messy, matted strawberry-blonde hair made her less than attractive compared to the other women in the area, and, of course, there was the fact she was a bastard child. None of the local men wanted her and the village scarcely brought in travelers. Catherine loosens the buttons on her late husband's old white blouse, exposing her the chest before turning around. The young woman nearly gasps when she sees that Aristide is standing right behind her. She had expected him to be across the street, where he normally waited, every night that she came to these parts for the past month and a half. If she thought about it, she would reckon that it was unusual, scarcely any traveler stayed this long but he paid her well so who was Catherine to complain.

She clutches her chest inhaling sharply. Before she can scold him for startling her, Aristide reaches up in a swift movement and brushes over her bruised cheek "My sweet singer, what harm as befallen thy cheek," He questions her in honey-coated voice, his fingers are freezing against her skin but it feels good against her throbbing cheek. Sometimes Catherine thinks that Aristide feels to cold to be truly alive. He was a strange young man, the strangest she had ever encountered.

"It is nothing, Aristide, merely Pastor Cullen," Catherine says, "He does detest me so, and with his old age —"

"You should forbear attending —"

"You know that I cannot do that, Aristide," Catherine says fiercely, more fiercely than she intends to. The last thing she needs to do is scare of the only paying customer she has but that place meant so much to her mother. Even though Pastor Cullen had always treated her and her mother terribly, her mother, Elspeth Fynch, had insisted that they go as often as they could. Her mother had said that the place was very important to her late father, Carlisle Cullen. 

"He is old, Aristide. I have heard gossip that he is appointing a new pastor soon."

"Has thou? I am sure it shall be his son, that cannot be much better," Aristide says, sarcasm dripping from his tone and he's met with a solemn look.

"Afraid not, his son went missing nearly twenty years ago," Catherine says quietly, "On one of those vampire hunts, his father planned . . . No one knows what happened to him, we do not talk about it but I have heard many good things about the man."

Her mother had talked highly of him, Carlisle this and Carlisle that, was what had filled Catherine's childhood. Her father was all her mother talked about, his death had left a hole in Elspeth's chest and if he had not died than nobody would have known that Catherine was born out of wedlock and she wouldn't be facing the poverty that she is now. And perhaps her mother would not have perished so brutally upon that pyre all those years ago. Talking about Carlisle Cullen now did nothing but leave a bitter taste in Catherine's mouth. 

Aristide frowns, he wonders if it's possible that the missing man had found real vampires and if he did that would mean, he's still around somewhere. Aristide had not sensed any in the area but there are plenty of sewers that they can hide in here. He pulls Catherine closer, she was his and his alone. Aristide had been passing through London when he seen her wandering the streets late at night, in need of money for medicine. In fact, Aristide had not met a single supernatural creature in this town, not even a witch and they were almost everywhere. Although just because he had not sensed another vampire around, it doesn't mean they weren't there, they could have easily found a mundane scent to cover theirs up, the son she spoke of could still be around, hidden in the shadows, it would make sense as to why his father had survived so long without a single uprising to his medieval ways. This son could be hidden somewhere, anywhere in this village which means Aristide would have to keep a closer watch on Catherine.

He had not meant to grow so attached to Catherine, he usually killed his blood-singers hours after encountering them but for some odd reason he found himself besotted with Catherine. Aristide had know her for a month or so by now. It started on a night quite like this and her alluring scent sang to him, her scent was much better than her appearance, she had been near this exact spot looking for anyone willing to pay her for sexual favours. He had given her the money in exchange for her to come back to his home where she believed that they would have sex but he had other plans. Catherine was supposed to be his dinner that night but as soon as the door closed behind her and he moved to pounce, she kissed him hard against his open mouth. The very same mouth that had been seconds away tearing through her jugular and draining her of her life. After that Aristide couldn't bring himself to kill her, he let her kiss him hard over and over, pressing hot and wet kisses on his mouth and down to his neck. It ignited a feeling in him he hadn't felt in centuries and he knew he had to keep her around, for the past month he's been coming to this dump of town just to see her night after night. Some nights, she wasn't there because she had made enough money to pay for the medicine of the little girl that lived near her. Aristide doesn't understand why she bothers to work so hard for someone that isn't herself but he's grown to adore it because that means she has to be here to do it.

Catherine presses a clammy hand to his face "Aristide, are you alright? You have grown tense . . . Have I done something to upset you?"

"No, my sweet singer, I am cold, it has naught to try with you." Aristide says, pressing a kiss to her forehead with causes her to shiver.

"Indeed, you are freezing . . . Shall we go back to your place and warm ourselves up," Catherine offers, pushing herself against Aristide's cold body. She looks up at him through her pale lashes, his red gaze is hot, it feels as though it's burning straight through to her wicked soul.

"That sounds enchanting, ma chérie," Aristide says smoothly, whispering in her ear. And off they go, arm in arm to Aristide's 'place' hardly a block away.

Unlike the last few times, Catherine does not throw herself on him immediately after the door closes behind her and as much as he'd love to see her naked body writhing with pleasure and bathed in the candle light, he assumes she's grown fond of him; she must trust him now. He licks his lower lip, it was naïve of her to trust him but something about the thought of earning her misplaced trust excited him.

He lights the candles and she sits down on his bed, technically not his bed but the person who owned it before he killed them, but Catherine doesn't need to know that. He smiles at her and she smiles back at him albeit a bit hesitantly, her heart speeds up and he wonders why — could it be she possibly fancies him?

Catherine's desperate, desperate enough to give her body time and time again to a man she's quite certain is the devil. He has red eyes and he's perfectly perfect and oh so tempting. There is no way that Aristide is human but she never dwells on it for long, she needs the money. Agatha is sick and her parents are even sicker, Agatha relies on her, Catherine couldn't let her down and she doesn't care if she's sinning or not.

He stalks towards her slowly and comes to a stop between her legs, he lifts her head up with a finger and leans down to kiss her, slowly but passionately. Her heart skips a beat as she kisses him back, she reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, he snakes his arms around her waist. Aristide starts trailing kisses down her mouth to her neck, allowing her to catch her breath as he didn't need to stop to do that. He kisses her neck, finding her pulse-point with ease, he kisses the spot again and again, then he gently drags his teeth against her skin which elicits a quiet moan from her. So unaware how close she is to death, he pulls away to study her, her eyes are closed and her pink lips are swollen. Freckles coat her face as well as her exposed shoulders, Aristide is sure that every inch of her is covered in freckles, making her look like a constellation in the sky.

Catherine lies down on the bed, she smiles up Aristide as she slowly begins to untie her dress, he reciprocates her smile as he begins to unbutton his petticoat. By time he's pulled his blouse of, she's untied her outer-layer corset, she shivers again and he wonder if his home is really that cold. He, of course, wouldn't truly notice.

"It is cold in here," Catherine whispers, her pale face flushed, as her thin fingers begin to remove her blouse, Aristide can see that they're trembling and he frowns. He had forgotten how sensitive humans were to temperatures.

"Keep it on, my sweet singer, you will be warmer that way," Aristide says, and it will be easier for her to leave quickly in case something goes wrong. He unbuckles his trousers, Catherine hums in response abandoning her attempt to undress herself and instead busies herself with watching him, she takes in his too perfect features, his long black curls which were pulled back with a thin white lace. His pale skin seems to glimmer in the light of the candles, he was heavenly-looking, almost god like. But every moment with him felt like a sin.

Once Aristide has kicked off his trousers, he crawls over her and listens to her heartbeat race. He settles himself between her legs and pushes her long skirt down to her waist to expose her thin and freckled legs. They're covered in bruises especially her thighs, and they're all from him, as gentle as he tries to be with her he always leaves evidence of his strength. He tugs off her undergarments, his calloused fingertips brushing against her inner most thighs as he does so.

She hisses at the harsh coolness but arches her hips towards him nevertheless, He smirks at her and says "Eager are we now, ma chérie?"

Catherine nods her head, whimpering. Playing it up because she just wanted to get this over with, she doesn't hate it and she quite enjoys their time together but she wishes he would be quicker. She just needed the money, Agatha is relying on her. If they got this done with quicker, she could probably get home in time to make some soup for Agatha and her parents. Aristide was the only good man she had ever been with, outside of her marriage, but this was never about good, this was about survival for not only herself but those she cared about. It was nothing more than that.

He chuckles, grabbing her legs and pulling her close. Their hips meet and Catherine shivers violently at the feeling of his freezing body pressed against her already cold one, Aristide hushes her, stroking her cheek in a gentle manner as he tells her to sit up. Catherine does as he asks, they're so close their bodies were practically one. Although she, herself, felt cold, to him she felt like a raging fire against his own cold, undead skin.

His finger traces her lips before pulling her into a bruising kiss, she hisses against his lips but the hiss turns into a pained moan as he thrusts into her. He's careful as he can be, she's a delicate flower compared to him and he could easily kill her this way. He pulls away from her, muttering "You're beautiful," against her bruised cheek. How he longs to taste her blood, her skin itself was surprisingly sweet and he's sure that her blood is even sweeter.

"Thank you, sir," She mumbles, bucking her hips into his. Quiet pants and moans escape her chapped, swollen lips. She grips her skirt tightly, her eyes screwed shut and Aristide watches her every expression with keen interest from the smallest twitch of her eyebrows to more noticeable action of her mouth falling open as louder moans fall from her lips. He's learned to let her do most of the moving because it results in less bruising, at first he didn't care but as their intimate encounters grew closer together, he had grown fond of her and her safety.

He gently moves his hands so they're entangled in her hair, he pulls on her matted locks slightly. Her strawberry-blonde hair appears almost golden in the glow of the candles. If she had the ability to take care of herself, she would have been breathtaking. Catherine, in Aristide's opinion was unique for a mortal. He could give her the power to be so much more than that, he had thought about it for an agonising amount of time. But, Aristide had never turned someone before, it was usually Aro who did that and Aristide had went alone this time around. 

Her heart pounds loudly, mocking him and his cowardice. He was afraid to turn her, he could kill her instead and for the first time in his immortal life, Aristide did not want to kill. He thought about bringing her to Volterra but he thought it unlikely that Aro would turn her, Catherine appeared to be lacking a gift, in other words, useless to Aro. But, she meant everything to Aristide. 

His name is whimpered, as he tugs a little harder on her hair, Catherine's hips press into his. Momentum is growing, a feeling akin to being alive grows inside him, Aristide moans lowly. He swallows the venom pooling his mouth and presses his lips to her shoulder, over and over and over, slowly moving up to her jawline.

After a few minutes, her moans get louder and her legs start to shake but Catherine does not cum. Typically the mortal doesn't last this long but Aristide had taken it slower tonight, mostly lost in his thoughts. But now, it was getting harder for him to ignore his bloodlust, he trusts into her hoping that it would be enough to push her over the edge but it's not. All he earns in a loud, pained moan and then she bites down on her lip hard and draws blood which is enough to send him spiraling over the edge. He inhales sharply as he does his best to restrain himself, he grips her skirt so tight that it tears. Aristide doesn't want to kill her, she's too precious, too good to be killed no matter how good her blood smells.

He pulls away from her, stumbling backwards and he hears her whine quietly as she sits up. She goes to ask for her pay but she falls short upon seeing the ravenous look on his face, her grin turns into an uneasy frown "Aristide, are you alright, have I done something wrong?" 

"Get out," He hisses, he wants nothing more to tear her apart, he wants to completely destroy her just for a drop of her precious blood, "Get out now!"

Catherine scrambles out of his bed, looking terrified out of her wits as apologies profusely fall from her lips, she tries to move closer to him but he throws the first thing he can grab — a pot — in her direction and he screams "GET OUT!"

For a moment, Aristide expects her to flee, he hopes that she will but Catherine surprises him and she stays. Stupid, foolish girl. 

Her eyes, blue as Aristide remembers the Mediterranean Sea to be, are wide with fear. Her bloodied lower lip is quivering but she stands motionless and determined. And although, Aristide would never raise a hand to her, he understands why the pastor raises his hand to her; she doesn't seem to obey what she's been told to do. 

"The money," Catherine says, trying and failing to keep her meek voice steady, "I did what you wanted me to do, if you're done I would like my pay." 

A thin line of blood trickle down her lip and onto her chin, his red eyes zero in on it. Catherine's words become lost to him, her pounding heart is all that Aristide can hear and he can no longer control himself. He lunges, she screams. 

He takes her out easily, his teeth tear into her jugular with ease, her scream becomes muffled by the blood filling her mouth, some of it splatters against Aristide's pale cheeks. It tastes much better than he ever imagined, Catherine was not the first Blood Singer he had encountered the many centuries he had been alive but she was by far his favourite. 

Her hand slams against his chest in a feeble attempt to fight him off but all she gains is a broken wrist. The snapping of her bones brings Aristide back to reality, he remembers that he doesn't want to kill her and with great difficulty he pulls himself away from her. Catherine screams meekly, her voice hoarse already, blood pools out of her mouth as she rolls onto her side and curls into herself. Her small frame trembles violently with every sound, the venom spreads through her veins like a forest fire, she has no idea what's happening.

Aristide watches with keen interest, he had seen Aro turn lots of people but it seems different now, a whole new experience for his old soul. Every tremble and every scream from her excites him. 

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," Catherine screams over and over, she grits her teeth together after every word, eyes squeezing shut as she hugs herself around her middle, writhing violently on the wood floor, her words fade from harsh and hoarse screams to a soundless chant. 

Aristide reaches out, brushing her hair out of her face, she looks at him with complete and utter betrayal, she whispers a plea for him to put her out of her misery. He doesn't, his bright red eyes zero in on the bite he left on her neck. It was not as clean as Aro's and it would leave a nasty scar, Aristide thinks that it will look much better than the bruises of his fingerprints ever did on her. His bloodied lips pull into a satisfied smirk, she was his forever now. 

[lightns881]

i feel like the way george has changed in elysium with quackity kind of reflects how cc!george has changed over time in content creation. you probably didn't do this on purpose, but the way EM!george's demeanor and attitude and overall persona has changed reminds me of how much cc!george has changed as well. and in both cases, this is partially due to quackity's influences. in elysium, EM!george seems to be more confident and surer of himself, he's not afraid of his powers, and he doesn't particularly care about how others view him, he's accepted that people will fear him and *almost* relishes in it sometimes (i.e., when he said he'll never forget the shock on dr mitchell and agatha's face when he broke out of his cuffs). whereas in real life, cc!george has grown more confident in the same way, he's not afraid to be loud or act childish, he makes odd noises and says dumb jokes, he's does outlandish things and doesn't care what people say about. and admittedly, a lot of this is thanks to quackity. it's part of the reason why i love george and quackity so much! both irl and in the series. there's not really a point to this, i just wanted to point out how freakishly accurate you portray qnf's dynamic in elysium. honestly, it's crazy! i can perfectly imagine each interaction they have in the story. are you secretly friends with them or something???? /j

yoooo I hadn't noticed that but you're so right!!! it really does reflect on George's growth irl!! I definitely did not do that on purpose but im guessing subconsciously I picked up on it, im pretty decent at catching patterns and dissecting character, though sometimes I don't exactly know how to describe it with words, it just sort of comes out in the way I portray them ig? it only works well when ive gotten a good sense of who the person is tho

and you have no idea how big of a compliment that is!!! I tried so hard to imitate their dynamic in a serious environment like elysium without removing their fun interactions (the best part imo) and also portraying growth in their friendship, so im glad you think it was good!! ik you're joking but they honestly seem like they'd be such fun friends to have so that'd actually be so cool but unfortunately, I am not secretly their friend 😞

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | two.

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, taetae on the verge of tears, angry joon, soft jungkoo, yoongi cursing and emotional distress rip.

⇢ author’s note(s): hey everyone!! chapter two is finally here, im so sorry for the delay :( i had a run in with t*mblr and they were hiding all my works from tags! it should be okay now so i hope you like <3

⇢ previous | series masterlist | next

taehyung sits quietly as he watches the tea cup to your left, lose its steam— the heat fading like the light that usually emanated from you. eyes falling to his lap, the skater’s fingers curl in the paws of his— joon’s... black sweater as a guilty feeling settles in his chest. his fingers were itching to reach out and take hold of your hand, but taehyung knew that you would only push him away, locking yourself behind a door and falling away into an empty shell. part of him was glad that you wouldn’t let him touch you; in fear that he’d break you again just like that day on the ice, whilst the other half missed his best friend, whom he’d drown in his arms and fond touches. he missed his YN.

taehyung was grateful that namjoon didn’t mind your affectionate relationship, how tae’s large palm would settle on the small of your back or how his lips would brush against your cheek or your hairline. it was something that gave you both comfort, and namjoon understood that— after all you had been there for each other in the darkest of times while the man himself was studying in the US. nonetheless, taehyung was restless. he needed to know if you were okay, he needed to hold you to tell you it was going to be okay.

but you were too far gone in your own little world, trapped in your chair that was tucked away in a corner by your old fashioned TV (in which he’d begged you to  replace because he hated the static noise it made on certain channels), watching old performances of yours on vhs from when you were younger— you’d switch to your laptop from time to time to watch more recent ones. the chair had become your safe space, since you refused to walk around on your new crutches, all motivation lost with the end of the skating season approaching.

taehyung was worried, really worried.

he knew you ate less, a tired grey tint to your skin casting a shadow over your usually glowing tones. he knew because he’d brought all the teas and pastries you loved to snack on, with each of them growing cold. “please eat baby,” the boy tries, quietly prompting you to take a bite of the cream puff he’d brought this time. “just a little.”

you tilted your gaze from the tv to your partner, irises dull and heavy with an unimaginable amount of sadness. the expression read no, causing taehyung to frown sadly but he perked up as your lips twitched in order to speak. “toe loop, ina beaur.” you whispered, as the latter’s eyes fell to the screen behind you where your younger self followed the streams of classical music into the moves that trickled from your drying lips.

your partner slumps in his seat, defeated and heartbroken as you turn back to the screen, solemnly. “please... just eat something YN. it’s been days since joon or i last saw you—“

your fist slams down on the table where your pastries sit, jolting the china teacup taehyung knows that you love. he lurches forward to steady it, although his heart beats rapidly and he flinches at your sudden actions. “would you eat?” your question burns at your lips with a dark poison that stings your friend. “would you eat if everything you knew and loved had been ripped from you because of one stupid accident? i don’t think so.” you know better than to scold tae and put the blame on him, but anger at the world and your situation burns brightly behind your logical senses—clouding you’re judgement. “what if all you could do is sit and watch, sit and watch, sit and watch until your mind went numb? could you focus? breathe? eat? sleep? no! so stop asking me and leave me alone.”

you regret your words as soon as they’re said, turning back to your tapes as tears brim in the corner of taehyung’s treacle eyes. he withdraws from you completely, dabbing at his eyes quickly to rid then of  his salty tears as the front door to your apartment opens and closes. namjoon steps through, carrying rustling bags full of essentials that you might need. your friends have been good to you, so good but you can’t help but be mad, be sad and hurt.

your best friend stands abruptly to help his lover put away the groceries, tucking cans and jars away— while hiding his soft whimpers. but namjoon is not a fool, the elder can feel the thick cool settling over the room as he tilts his head towards taehyung. “are you okay, love?” the blonde asks lowly, tilting his gaze between yourself and his boyfriend, immediately sensing that something is wrong. “what happened?” he says louder this time— as if he’s trying to gain your attention too.

“nothing, baby—we...” tae whispers quietly, clenching his fists and unclenching them. he’d always hated conflict between three three of you, he was too sensitive whilst you and joon were head strong and stubborn. “it’s nothing...”

“are you crying?” the elder slices through taehyung’s words as smoothly as a butter knife— making you flinch in your seat at his rough tone. your coach was never one to get angry, his temper was often cool and calm but one poke of the wrong button would start something you didn’t want.

“n-no joonie-!”

“what did she say to you?”

guilt trembled in your grip, hating that you were the reason taehyung cried, the reason that namjoon was angry. for goodness sake, YN, you were friends and this is how you were treating them? joon mutters to the younger about packing up his things before turning his steaming attention to you. thick arms and firm palms sink into the arm rests of the chair, making your gaze turn to your lap. the thing about kim namjoon is that, in away, when you were in the wrong— he made you feel like a child for doing so. “this is the last straw, YN,” he scolds, running a hand through the thick of his dyed hair. “tae and i have tried to be there for you, tried to support you in this time but all you do is push us away.” the anger that bubbled in your chest before has faded to a dull sense of hurt, mad at yourself for paining your friends. “it’s been weeks and you haven’t attended a single physical therapy session, we’re afraid that if you don’t— you’ll never skate again. we all know that’s not what you want, YN. so get your shit together and we’ll be back when you do.”

taehyung appears in the doorway leading to your bedroom just as his boyfriend ends your lecture. you feel your own tears burn in the corner of your eyes at the ultimatum you’ve just been given but swallow them down as your best friend gives you a weak smile. namjoon makes a non-committal grunt, prompting his lover to scurry out of your now open, apartment door. “think about what i said,” he mumbles, tone much softer now.

they leave not long after, leaving you to think about your choices— just as the award ceremony appears on screen while younger you wins her first olympic medal.

there’s a quiet knock at your door, just two days later. part of you hopes it’s taehyung as you hop over on your crutches— but you know namjoon better than that, you won’t get to see them until your coach sees that you’ve made some improvement , he was pesky and annoying like that. you also know that it’s to give each other some time to get ready to apologise, you for upsetting tae and joon for being so harsh. your friendship had always worked like that.

“noona, are you there?” you recognise jungkook’s voice from the other side of the door, struggling to open it with just one hand  while you use your other to cling onto your crutches. it’s been hard, but you’re slowly learning how to use them better, joon would get a kick out of it for sure. “noona— oh!” the cherry haired boy beams brightly as you swing the door open, a matching hue adding further warmth to his melanin rich skin. “you’re here.”

the younger skater is wearing a heavy, oversized sweater despite the warming spring breezes that carry cherry blossoms outside, and black combat pants and matching boots to complete his outfit— his signature large backpack hangs loosely over his shoulder as he stares down at you, being at least half a head taller than yourself. “kookie,” you breathe, hugging him instantly. his sweet, floral scent brings comfort to your racing heart almost instantly as you bury your face in his broad chest. “what are you doing here?”

chuckling quietly, jeongguk pushes you back into your apartment and closes the door behind you both, being careful not to knock you off your unsteady feet. once you’re inside, he fully wraps his arms around you and buries his nose into your neck— finding comfort in your own simple vanilla scent. yourself and the boy always had something unspoken flickering in the air between you, ever since he’d joined your company at seventeen (there was only a year between you both, and jungkook had been a novelty skater until then). your partner always joked that the boy was into older women, whilst you argued that you both admired each other or found one another’s presence highly comforting.

nonetheless, you would be a fool to say you hadn’t noticed how nicely jungkook had grown up since joining you at namjoon’s agency but you could never make your feelings known, not when you were both well known competitors.

“ah— well, namjoon hyung sent me. he said you’d need a fresh face to keep you company...” the younger mumbles, sending shivers down your spine at his proximity. being the sweetheart that he is, jungkook mistakes your shiver for something of pain and guides you to sit on your small fabric couch, pressing a shy kiss to your hairline with burning cheeks as he pulls away. “is it alright if i use your kitchen, i brought some ingredients to make us— i mean you... some dinner!”

“knock yourself out, kookie!”

he nods appreciatively, moving off to your kitchen as you turn back to your tapes, watching over more of your older performances. this time, it’s one from an event just before your first olympics— crisp in quality allowing you to see your skating more clearly. you remember the day that yourself and taehyung qualified for the south korean team, the joy you felt put into every competition since then but now you looked on them with a forlorn expression, wondering what you did wrong? were your movements sloppy? did you bring taehyung down? why did your legs look like that when you jumped?

jungkook fumbles with a frying pan not far from your left as he cooks the meat, a question passing from between his lips that you miss due to lost focus. “hm?” you blink once and turn to face the boy. “what was that?”

“i-i was just asking how you were!” jungkook stammers as his doe eyes catch yours, he blushes deeply, almost as red as his hair before his gaze drops to the broth he begins to serve for the two of you. “unless...of course... that’s a dumb thing to ask...” he bites his lip, dishing out a healthy portion of meat into either of your bowls as he makes the meal look presentable. jungkook places both of your bowls onto a tray before bringing it to your coffee table with a set of chopsticks. “forget i said anything, eat up!” he concludes, taking a seat by your side and handing you your meal.

you smile to yourself, scooping some of the noodles into your mouth and humming at the salty taste. “it’s fine kookoo,” you comment warmly, wiping at your mouth. “i’m just... feeling a bit out of place, not myself... you know?”

the boy only nods, falling silent in favour of watching a younger version of you skate across the ice on screen. the pair of you sit quietly for a while, nothing but the sounds of bowls and chopsticks clanking together, and ice on skates resonating throughout the room. “you’re triple axels were always my favourite,” jungkook whispers before your figure even tumbled into the move, piqueing your interest just a bit. “you were how i leaned to do them.”

“how did you know that was next, though?”

jungkook blushes, setting his dish on the coffee table and thumbing his knuckles shyly. your heart warms at the gesture, causing your smile to broaden. “i-i watched you at the olympics... i’d never taken skating seriously until then so i used your routines to get better, good enough to qualify at the same company as you...”

you fall into yet another silence after squeezing the boy’s hand appreciatively— the red hue to his cheeks only darkening. the cherry haired skater excuses himself to the bathroom and in that time you decide to clear up as a thank you to him for keeping you company. the kitchen is only a short walk, you only have two dishes to carry, it should be fine. except it’s not, like a baby giraffe you are still unsteady in your feet— taking steps without your crutches has proven to be difficult, especially with an armful of kitchenware. if you could just make it to the doorway, at least. at least then you’d know, you weren’t completely useless.

but your concentration slips as the unused muscles in your leg choose this moment to  seize up and suddenly you’re falling to the ground. ceramic bowls clatter against your hardwood floor, smashing into pieces while you use your hands to brace for impact— one that doesn’t come. warm arms encircle your waist, jungkook having returned just in time to stop your fall, and pull you closely into his chest. you can feel your body tremble from fear, from anger at yourself for thinking you were even near ready for something like this— so you end up crying before you notice.

“noona, baby please don’t cry,” jungkook lets the pet name slip without realising, clearing the broken shards away with his foot as he sinks to the floor with you in his arms. “it was an accident... you weren’t ready yet...” he coos into your hairline, kissing it gently as he tugs you into his chest.

you feel suffocated, trapped at home and trapped in the mindset that you’ll never be a skater again but jungkook is jungkook, he knows you more than you might have let on— dressing you up to leave the house and taking you to the one place that might soothe you.

the rink.

jungkook’s sweater swaddles you to warmth as you watch him enter the rink from the stands. it’s eleven pm and you have no idea how he got the keys— especially when namjoon closes early on a sunday. your finger tips are cold so you slip them underneath the sleeves, tucking your nose under the collar of the black cotton fabric as it heats up your cheeks and remind you of what it’s like to be in koo’s arms.

he waves at you from down below and truth be told your heart stops for a second before the younger skates to the middle of the rink. you don’t even know how he managed to get the music playing and the lights set up just for him, but jungkook has always been good at everything so you don’t put it past him. the song you recognise as  ‘wild’ by troye sivan fills the empty rink and the hairs on your skin prickle with familiarity— a song you had used in your first ever competition with taehyung. it shakes you a little, in a meaningful way, to know that jungkook went to the depths he did to learn from you and develop his own style of skating— one of gentle touches but locked down movements. he was everything and then some.

‘been a while since i’ve been a fool, for you...’

just as the high not ends, jungkook takes off, leaping into a perfected quadruple axel that you didn’t even know he’d learned to do. he loops four times in the air but lands a little shaky, they were a risky move and very rarely completed in competition but seeing that he’d taken your signature move and completed it better than your own abilities makes you smile. with a spark in his eye he mouths the words of the song to you ‘leave this blue neighbourhood, never thought loving could hurt this good,’ as he extends his right leg behind him and twirls across the ice.

this easily allows the boy to adjust his position into a camel spin, his legs parallel to the ice as he falls in tune with the lyrics before pivoting. you remember the routine and it’s every element, tracing them in your head as jungkook executes them perfectly right into the climax of the song, he’s perfect— maybe even better than you. nothing going wrong as he falls to the lower ice for a hydroblade, finger tips just brushing over its surface while he sweeps past.

‘you’re driving me wild, wild wild,” your mind drifts away with the music— convincing you that the younger skater is better than you, hes clean and sharp and— what do you have on him now? a pathetically broken leg with you unable to stand on two feet. you barely realise when the song ends and jungkook has made his way to middle of the rink to close because you’re too distracted with the emotions that clog your throat and tears that litter your galaxy eyes.

you cry, pathetically because what else is there to do.

the younger looks up from the ice, lose long sleeve shirt is littered with sweat from his exertion but he pays no mind as he noticed your tears. they shine under false light while jungkook kicks off his skates as fast as humanely possible because he hates the way your tiny body shakes as if you’re cold, he hates how your soft cheeks dampen and how you’re going without his hold for far too long. dashing up to the gallery with only socks to warm his feet, the young skater slides into the seat beside you— immediately pulling you into his heated embrace.

“baby,” he coos gently, cupping your head as you whimper into his neck. “please don’t cry, not anymore...”

you clutch at his shirt with the finger tips that peek through the sleeve of his jumper. “i can’t...it hurts not to be—be on the ice with you, that’s where I—“ you cut yourself off as a sob crawls from between your chapped lips, you crave the tight squeeze of leather skates on your feet and the cold beneath your arms, they would console you more where jungkook couldn’t.

throat burning with heartache, you nuzzle further into the boy and let him toy with your hair. “i think you should go to physical therapy noona,” jungkook whispers quietly, as though not to startle you. “you’re hurting not being out there, i see that...but if you don’t try and heal— you’ll never get back on your feet.”

jeongguk is annoyingly wise for someone  just below your age, so you nod and lace your fingers with his— tracing over the small tattoos that paint his knuckles, silently agreeing to his plea. you let him drive you home that night, clinging to him as he carried you through the door of your apartment.

he doesn’t leave, sliding into bed with you as he holds you close— comforting you once again.

“son of a motherfucking bitch,” you mumble through gritted teeth, as you attempt to step back up and down from the false steps yoongi (your physical therapist) has set up for you. he’s more of a dance therapist than anything, but his exercises are well known in your industry  for rehabilitating skaters and namjoon did say he would get you the best. the pain subsides fairly quickly, unlike the months prior when you had first started with yoongi but you’ve learned well and gotten better— even making up with your coach and best friend.

“yes ma’am?” yoongi answers from a whiles away, causing you to chuckle whilst deciding to sit down for a break. you wipe the sweat from your brow and take the bottle of water that your therapist hands to you, gulping it down to ease your ragged breathing. “you’re doing so much better than when you first came in.” you look to yoongi as he sits next to you, a short ish man (compared to jungkook, taehyung or namjoon) but still taller than you, with warm brown hair and honey eyes along with a gummy smile that makes your heart melt. he’s strict on you, but also caring in the smallest of ways— he knows your limits but when to push you too and has helped you make a pretty fast recovery.  “you’re even laughing more.”

you push at his shoulder, watching the hair fly from yoongi’s face despite his bandanna. “i laughed before!” you defend yourself with a smile.

“barely! i’m just saying, that i’m proud of you YN-ah. i’m glad you came to me in the end, it’d be a shame to see such talent go to waste.” his voice is smooth, not as deep as tae’s but soothing enough, your smile still falters at his words while he locks and unlocks his fingers, staring at the ground.

“you make it sound as if you’re leaving me,”

yoongi looks up at you with a cheeky smile, but his eyes remain slightly dimmed. “well, technically i am...” he sees the confusion on your face as your brows push together.  “an opening came up for a dancer who’s pretty big in the states and over here too, he’s korean so his fan base is large over here and—“

“but you can’t leave me!” you practically yell, shocking both yoongi and yourself— he couldn’t go just yet, not when you were so close. “i’m almost fully recovered and if you leave? a-all my progress could come undone and i’ll never get back on the ice, let alone back in time to train for the olympics!” you feel the familiar emotion of panic bubble in the pits of your stomach, tightly gripping onto yoongi’s wrist as if he’ll disappear into thin air.

the older boy puts a hand over yours, looking to you fondly. “you know that’s not what our end goal is, we want you back on the ice remember?” he reminds you calmly but you slip free from his grip anyways— feeling defeat settle heavily over your heart. if yoongi left now, there’d be nothing for you to work towards and no physician would compare to him. “besides, i already talked namjoon into letting me bring you with me...” you perk up at his words, eyes lighting up brightly at the thought of not being separated this far into your progress. “figure skating is like dance for the ice and your leg is strong enough for you to move on it in that kind of way...”

you figure yoongi is right, it’s not like you hadn’t danced— ballet lessons were almost necessary to become a figure skater, aiding with the grace and light movements you needed. if yoongi was offering you an opportunity to use dance to get back onto the ice, who were you to pass it up. dance therapy would advance her recovery much faster than your regular routine.

yoongi can tell your answer by the look of joy on your face. “so is that a yes? you’re coming with?”

“of course it is, asshole... you should’ve lead with that!” you scold him playfully, pushing the older boy with a roll of your eyes.

a feeling of hope settles, comfortingly amongst your bones— this could be it....

this could be exactly what you needed.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae​ @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe95​ @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles​ -@ultraanonymousey @rjsmochii​ ​  @thenoblr 

[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: Ornithopobia

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: The boys help Y/N get over her fear of birds. I’m sorry if this sucks lol (This takes place pre-Birthday Week)

Check the Rest: Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships |The Birthday Week | Movie Night | Silence is Golden? | Birthday Date Night

Masterlist

Everyone has that one thing that makes them squeamish or afraid. It’s natural. Ironically Tom, who has played Spiderman for the five years of his life is afraid of spiders. Harry gets spooked with loud unforseen noises, Harrison is afraid of snakes, and Tuwaine is terrified of mirrors in the dark. For Y/N, birds were her greatest fear, so imagine to her surprise when she finds out the boys bought a couple of chickens.

“You what?!” Y/N freaks out after she sees Tom holding a pair of chickens in both hands.

“C’mon love. We ran out of eggs, so instead of going to the store, Predator and Ranger can lay them in the backyard.” He reasons, adorning his boyish smile that he knows Y/N could never resist.

“But live chickens?!” Y/N repeats as she looks at the two clucking and bobbing their heads. She cringes in fear as she sees the chickens make eye contact with her. Her toes curl, and her arms wrap around her own body. “This is probably a bad time to tell you, I have a serious fear with birds.” She confesses through her teeth.

Tom laughs at her response, thinking it was a joke until he saw how Y/N’s face did not change. “Oh my god seriously?! You’re afraid of birds?!” He asked.

Y/N raises her eyesbrows, gesturing as if he should have known that. “Would I be acting like this if I was?”

“But why? I mean look at their cute, wittle faces. How can you be scared of these babies?” Tom responds in his baby voice as he pays his attention to the chickens.

“Look at them!” Y/N squeals. “The eyes. The beak. The claws.”

“Darling, they’re harmless.” Tom responds, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah? Well so are spiders but I don’t see you manning up to them! Plus, did you know chickens are the descendants of T-Rex?” She questioned him as if the viable information would frighten him.

Tom threw his head back, laughing at Y/N’s responses. “Spiders are a different story! You should have seen that tarantula they brought on the press tour. Y/N, chickens wont attack you.”

“Yes they will.”

“No they wont.”

“Yes, they w—”

“Look, why don’t we make a bet.” Tom inquires. “If I can get you to over come your fear of birds and hold Predator or Ranger by the end of Quarantine.... I get to name our first child.” He smiles brightly.

Y/N laughs at his proposal, not believing what he’s offering. “We’re not even engaged yet!” She exclaims. “Let alone, pregnant!!”

“Not yet, you aren’t!” He says excitedly. “But one of these days, I am going to put a ring on that finger and we are going to have beautiful babies. Im just planning ahead!” Y/N gives him a knowing look, which only made Tom shrug his shoulders and sigh in defeat. “But I guess if we’re talking about prizes now...I get to pick the movies for Movie Night for the next year with no complaints, but I still get to name our first child.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, smiling at the thought Tom had put into their future. The fact that he had already planned having her in his future with a kids, made her heart swell even more. “Ok, deal. You got till the end of lockdown.”

As the month passes by, Tom tried his best to slowly introduce the chickens to his girlfriend. His first attempt started with getting Y/N comfortable with a feather. He figured baby steps with introducing a harmless, soft part of a chicken would ease her uneasiness. “See baby, look how soft Ranger’s feather is. It almost tickles.” He tries to tickle her with the feather, but Y/N slowly backed away, cringing in fear. “C’mon darling. It’s just a feather. It’s not going to bite.” He laughs. Y/N shakes away the fear as she holds the feather smiling and admiring the lightness and fluffiness.

“Hey, this isn’t so bad.” She laughs nervously, playing around with the feather. Tom nods, feeling proud of the accomplishment he’s made. Baby steps, he thought to himself, knowing hes this much closer to naming their future child.

Unfortunately, it was short lived when Harrison decided to sneak up on Y/N while she was admiring Ranger’s feather. She squeal and jumped, as she made her way back up to their shared bedroom.

“Way to go Mate.” Tom says sarcastically. “I was this close too.”

“What?! I thought she was joking!” Harrison defended himself, laughing at the fact that Y/N really did have a fear of birds. “C’mon she craves fried chicken almost every day. There’s no way anyone would believe it!”

Tom continued to build up Y/N’s confidence with birds through the lockdown period. He let her watch them from a very safe distance, introduced her to baby chicks, and the more exposure she got, the more Y/N started to relax. But the real test came when a pigeon flew into their house. Will Smith was the name for the newest member of the Holland Home. Y/N and Tom froze when it started to chill in the living room. “It’s okay darling. See he’s just minding his own business. Look.”

Tom gets up and starts filming Will for his insta story, showing him the way out to freedom. He constantly looks back at Y/N to gauge her reaction, and was happy to see her smiling and shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it. After all, when do you ever see your boyfriend escort a pigeon out of the living room during Quarantine Season? “Good work. Love your work. Great form.” Tom encourages Will as he bobs his way out. A slight mishap happens when Will takes flight in the kitchen, which made Y/N squeal, her fear flooding in a tiny bit but not enough to make her run for the hills like last time. As the pigeon flies out to freedom, Tom comes back to the living room. “See a mangy little pigeon was nothing.”

Y/N lets out a slight giggle, as she makes room for her boyfriend. “Yeah...Will Smith wasnt too bad.” She admits. “Though I must say the commentary did help.” Y/N pauses to think for a second. “Actually, I think Im ready to hold Predator or Ranger right now.”

Tom lifts his head up with surprise. “What?! Seriously?!” He asks. Y/N nods at his response. “Only if you want to Y/N. I don’t want to force you to do anything that’s uncomfortable.”

“This...sounds like a totally different conversation right now.” Y/N laughs at her implication of the conversation.

Tom rolls his eyes, looking at her with seriousness. “I mean it Y/N. Don’t force yourself, if you don’t think youre ready to hold them.”

“We can start with petting them, and if I feel really good...I’ll try to hold them.” Y/N plans out as Tom grabs her hand to head her to the chicken’s den.

“Lads..today is a memorable day in history. Thats right, get your cameras out because Y/N is going to touch Predator and Ranger for the very first time.” Tuwaine annouces, cupping his hands around his mouth to make his voice even louder.

Harrison and Harry hold out the two chickens, who calmly lay in their arms. Tom is right beside Y/N, hilding her hand for support. “Are you ready gents?! Y/N pet them chickens!” Tuwaine yells out.

Slowly Y/N approaches the two chickens, letting her hand out. Predator and Ranger cock their heads up as they see the hand coming towards them. They don’t bother to move and remain very still. Once she made contact, Y/N lets out a slight squeal as she rubs down their sides. Realizing they neither jerked or flapped their wings, Y/N had grown more confident with her chicken handling. “Wow..they’re actually not too bad. They’re such cute little things.” She says.

“Do you wanna hold one?” Harry asks as he starts to lend the Predator to Y/N. The moment he’s about to lay Predator on Y/N’s open arms, she starts to flap her wings uncontrollably and make a noise. Ultimately it made Y/N cringe in fear as she ran to the door. “Well at least that she touched them.” Harry encourages Tom.

Tom shrugs his shoulders, as he laughs at the response. “She touched the chicken and that’s all that matters.” Tom thinks for a moment wondering if it counted as an automatic win. “Wait Y/N” he yells running after her. “Does this mean I can name our child Peter Benjamin Holland?”

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @parkerspillow @joyleenl @kihyunwifes @holland-bowen @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @marvelobsessedteenager @viwihere

[holicanth]

Joy and Union

Day 2 of Shinoweek 2021 - Winter, Friends/Family

Words: 2.3k

Genre: Fluff, friendship, FRIENDSHIP!!!

Warnings: Self-hate, suicidal thoughts.

Tags: Shinohina, Hinata’s worries and fears. Kiba acts like a clown, Team 8, Team 8 is chaotic and share one braincell. 

Author’s Note: This is a onehsot. Wanted to make something light to counter the absolute shitstorm im about to make tomorrow :”v Hope you like it :D

Summary: A simple task—to tail a group of chuunin-level gangsters who had been extorting money from one of Konoha's poorer regions. The group was interested in the mining industry of the area, but have tried to take the compound with illegitimate force.

An insect user has to be able to adapt to all forms of weather, using chakra to regulate body temperature and balance at all times.

 It takes a while for Shino to master this technique, but now he uses it almost automatically.

 The reason being his persistence to use cloaks and the like in the heat of summer.

 Shino knows that there is nothing wrong with his skin. It isn't scarred, tan, or even rough. The Aburames are all born with extremely regenerartive skin, but Shino fears the disgust reflected on his comrades when they see bugs dig out a hole from inside him

 (He used to be more blatant with it, reveling in their shock. But Shino learns that this has left him more alienated than accepted)

 So in summer months he would cover up with loose robes, with enough ventilation to help his bugs move freely. Of course, Shino prefers the warm embrace of sunlight, but he finds that the winter months can be more comfortable than they seem.

 It was during a reconnaissance mission, dead winter, and Team 8 was assigned to a small village to Konoha's North. 

 A simple task—to tail a group of chuunin-level gangsters who had been extorting money from one of Konoha's poorer regions. The group was interested in the mining industry of the area, but have tried to take the compound with illegitimate force.

 Kiba and Akamaru left to chase after the gang leader, while Shino and Hinata were to guard and uphold the mine from other assailants.

 It was a quiet morning. The villagers were scared (as they should be) and have decided to hide themselves in their homes. Shino's bugs were less effective during winter, but enough to ward unsuspecting intruders.

 Meanwhile Hinata was observing all around with her Byakugan. She has been up for a few long hours. 

 Shino is not a fool. He notices the pattern that Hinata's behavior takes during missions. To do her best. To never give up. To prove that she is worthy of something.  Even if it pushes her over the brink. He’s always hated the way she thinks so poorly of herself, as if she deserved all the discomfort that comes from being a shinobi. He understands the feeling well, though.

 "You know that you can leave this to me, right?" Shino muses next to her, "Rest, Hinata. You'll overwork yourself."

 Hinata deactivates her Byakugan, lightly rubbing her eyes in an attempt to release strain

 "B-But your bugs can't move much during winter, Shino-kun. You need extra chakra to regulate their temperatures." She glances at him, worry apparent on her voice. "You’ve saved me from their attack before. I don’t think you should move much…”

 The aforementioned gang was comprised of a compilation of rouge ninja from all sorts of villages. They have a particularly bad reputation within poorer villages but are in esteemed positions in Sunagakure. They’re particularly dangerous for their rejection of manipulation of Suna politics. Not only that, they have weapon masters, innovators, and a single scientist who aid them in their operation.

 The whole gang have been on the prowl for a long while, keeping themselves low for the last five years. Three months ago they’ve begun to act more hostile. Starting from a robbery in October to in a mining heist in December. An anonymous tip signaled that the whole gang are on the move, and going on extortion operations as a collective. This information went to the Hokage’s office, who then decided that the elite of the Konoha 9 were to deal with the issue. ‘They’re probably pissed that Gaara’s kazekage now’, Tsunade mentions.

 A series of sneezes distracted Shino's thoughts back to Hinata.

 Without thinking, Shino had automatically gave Hinata his coat. Winter is harsh towards insect-users, but Shino thinks he can handle this. Of course he can, after everything Hinata has done for the mission.

 "Aren't you cold Shino-kun?" 

 They had a scuffle before, in which one of them surprised them with a Fire-style jutsu, resulting in the loss of 40% of Shino’s kikaichu. Kiba had been fast enough to dodge, but Hinata had to be shielded by Shino. Luckily, both of them were left unscathed. Leaving Hinata to her guilt and her disappointment.

 "No, I'm fine. I'll be on guard now, you've done enough, Hinata."

 Hinata has always felt lacking. Even if she excelled physically to her teammates, even when she's the de facto taijutsu master in her team. She was always too kind, they'd say. She's too forgiving. From the very beginning, Hinata has left Kiba and Shino to do the dirty work for her. Murdering a team of genins during the Chuunin exams was just the beginning of it.

 And Hinata doesn't reject this. She was truly grateful that she didn't play an active part in these deeds.

 (And all the while she weeps in regret.

She believed that Shinobi are meant to protect those precious to them.

She never thought that a Shinobi would do such immoral things.

But she never grew out of this mindset, either.)

 Years has passed, and they've all grown into more mature, well-adjusted shinobis. She thinks about how to apologize to them. How to reverse the horrible things they've done in her stead. A shinobi is, ultimately, someone who protect those who are important to them. This is what she had trained so hard for. To protect and nurture. The idea of having to harm others in the name of protection—she detests it with her whole being.

 Sometimes she thinks,

That if she dies, the souls of those her team has taken would be put at peace.

 "It will be fine, Hinata. Don't worry, I can handle this amount of cold." Shino says, as he turned his back on her, facing to step outside the cave.

 The Kikaichu were not fully recovered. Should another ambush take place, there was a high chance that Shino would be injured.

 (Something in her urges her to rebel against his words. She didn't want it to continue like this—to have Kiba and Shino go out of their way for her.

 Especially Shino.)

 In a sudden fit, her hands clamped themselves around the boy.

 She has always known that Shino was tall, but now that she's close to him did she realize how different their heights are. Hinata notices too that Shino was not as skinny as she thought he was, but she hadn't noticed rhe boy's confusion.

 "Hinata what-" 

 Her ears were red.

 "I'm sorry, Shi-Shino-kun, I..I was--"

 Panic. She had to find an excuse immediately.

 "I-I just think that you're warm Shino," she blushes, looking to the side "You're good at regulating your body temperarure so..."

 If she could turn back time Hinata wishes that she could pull herself out of this situation. How silly of her. Hinata makes sure that she was always careful in every action--something she learned from her family the hard way--but she's found herself becoming clumsier than ever. 

 A trait she inherited from Kiba she supposed, 

 But this was not time to reminisce. 

 She has yet to release her hold. She thinks that she shouldn't. Her mouth doesn't form the words that she wants, and she's left speechless with the rush of emotions that gobble her. Her heart tears with a feeling of sorrow. Was she going to be left behind? She despises the way that her sincerity gets in the way of her job.

 (Shino Aburame was not someone skittish. Had it been anyone else he'd have felt a bit odd, resistant even, but the fact that it was Hinata eases his mind.)

 He doesn't bother her clutching on to him like this. But he doesn't immediately welcome the hug either. The idea of skinship was something he choose not to familiarize with, as people were always quick to avoid his advances, anyways.

 (Shino had always been isolating himself against his peers. He strives so hard to be level-headed. He tries his best to do well in class. But none of that made him any more likable--with all the bugs and unfriendly demeanor.)

 It started with a slight tap on the back, to one arm wrapped around her, and finally Shino eases himself enough to reciprocate the hug. Their eyes met. Somewhere, somehow, a strong feeling of compassion gripped him. In an instant, he felt an innate understanding rush to his head, as if he was absorbing all of Hinata’s emotions as they hugged.

 (Silence fell still on them—the serenity of the scene filling them with an odd elation. Hinata’s mind was previously occupied with dark thoughts, but now she can think of nothing but the winter and Shino’s warmth.)

  A lucid, fuzzy feeling overtakes Hinata. Her arms hugged tighter and she smiles into Shino's chest. At first, she was afraid that he'd jump out of her grip. Afraid that, like her family, Shino would have downright rejected any affectionate gesture. 

 (And the thought terrified her to death. The idea of being separated from her teammates. Separated from her home.)

 Shino was pleasantly surprised at himself, too. How simple it was to connect with someone—how easy it had been for Hinata to break his walls. For the first time in a while, Shino feels the joy of having a genuine union with someone, and God did he crave for it so badly.

 (Try as he might, but he has always lingered nearby her. Like a moth to a flame.

 It felt so natural for Shino, yet his own insecurities had lead him to stubbornly reject all attempts of friendship)

 They stayed like that for a minute. And that minute soon grew into half an hour. And just like that, Akamaru comes barking while dragging a group of chuunins tied by rope.

 Both of them had known that the gang was strong, feared even. What they didn’t expect was Kiba to be so fast in tracking them down, defeating them single-handedly, and bringing them back to the village. He was always feisty and feral from the beginning, but Kiba really changes when someone hurts his teammates.

 "Gee, look who's getting nice and cozy while I do all the work for us. I am so getting a day off after this..." Kiba mused, hauling the unconscious criminals to be taken by Akamaru to Kurenai.

 "Kiba-kun! I'm... um... It's not like that..."

 "Hinata thinks that I am a heater." Shino says, deadpan. "You can come near if you're cold, too."

 Kiba processes Shino's words as his brain buffers. Shino? Allowing physical contact? It must be raining cats and dogs outside. Kiba was in disbelief but there was also a sense of pride in knowing that his teammate's ice cold facade had began to thaw.

 Kiba had always been wary of Shino (In a good sense). He made sure not to overstep his boundaries after learning from several prank attempts that you can never escape Shino’s bugs, especially when he decides to use centipedes. Regardless, Kiba acknowledges his existence and understands that some people are a little bit more difficult to get by,

 "Hmph. You think I'd need some warming up after all that chasing?" He pouts, looking to the side. 

 "Because you're fucking right!!" He yells as he tackles both of them to the snow, a cheeky grin lit on his face. Kiba’s brashness made both Hinata and Shino tumble into the snow. Now they’re all tired and not warm. Damn Kiba. His big idiot energy did not register the fact that snow is, indeed, cold. 

 "Kiba you stupid--now you've got us all cold!" Shino's remark gained light laughter from his teammates. 

 "That's right,” Kiba replies with a hearty laughter. Because we're going to the hot springs after this mission."

 "Hot springs?" Hinata asked, turning to face Kiba "Where do we get the money for that? All the hot springs in the area are luxurious ones..."

 Konoha’s northern side was known for it’s winter hot springs. A luxurious view of the mountains as you aid your body in the springs. The nearest one was renowned and popular among ninjas, claiming that the water had rejuvenating properties and could make one younger.

 "That. Is something I can deal with." Kiba replies, in his leader-esque voice. 

 "And how would that be?" Shino is suspicious, but he seems to already know what Kiba is up to.

 "You see...These criminals we're after are pretty bad, yeah? Extortion and all that. So when I wrang them up, I happen to find pouches of coins nearby."

There is a lot to be questioned from the word “happen to find”.

 "Their pouches are awfully thick, stealing more profit than the ones they took from this village from God knows where. This is clearly our jackpot."

 "Kiba-kun... I don't think that's allowed..."

 "It is," He replies, sitting up, "We can return most of the money back, take a small fraction of it as added bonus. Don’t underestimate the Inuzuka’s Puppy Eyes Jutsu! Now, if we leave before they wake up, it’ll be in the bag!" 

 The three of them looked at each other. Nodded. And off they went, finishing affairs with the village chief and storming out of the village. This wasn't the first time Team 8 commited petty crimes, but getting away with it is part of a shinobi's skillset. Or so Kiba thinks.

 Shino never thought winter could make him feel so giddy. He should have been freezing to death, especially when Hinata was borrowing his longcoat. But the andrenaline from Kiba's mischief was infectious, and he was unexpectedly more riled up than usual. Hinata too, was under the adrenaline rush. 

 If the old Shino saw him now, he’d berate him for being so loose. For willingly participate in childish mischief, during a mission, nonetheless. Oh, but Shino couldn’t care less for formalities that day! He’d brush the conduct as “misdemeanor due to injury” and sleep it off.

 Shino finds that the winter months are more comfortable than they seem. Warm food, hot springs, and a good night's rest with your comrades. He wishes to meet many more winter months with his precious friends, together.

:)

[nhkamira]

Review - Fruits Basket Season 2 (フリーツバスケット)

How to even start with his one? My heart is happy and broken in so many ways. If you haven’t seen Fruit Basket Season 1, the previous anime or read the manga this will be a big spoiler. More than a review this is me talking everything out

First of all his season was amazing and beautiful, seriously if fruits basket has something marvelous is the character development is impossible no to feel empathy with them (except for Akito, god I hate her). What I love the most is Yuki’s change, it was so gradually and perfect, I mean he still has a lot to over come but now he looks more focused and happy. I was kind of afraid that he ended in love with Touru, but something always told me his feelings for her where different, and the way he knows how Kyo and Touru feels towards each other was so nice. Now, I’m really glad we got to see more of his relationship with Machi, she’s definitely the one for him, I hope to see her shining bright alongside him next season. Btw I really love Yuki and Kakeru’s friendship, thanks to the universe for that.

Next thing, Kureno.. God when I think this series can’t break my heart more. From the beginning everything related to him was frustrating. His love fro Uo-chan is so beautiful and sad, I still can’t believe his so trapped with Akito, I mean I was even shock they had that kind of relationship.. that just made me wonder more about what Shigure really wants, I still don’t think he is in love with Akito. But seriously, Kureno is the only one without the course, the bound broke so naturally for him, that just make everything more frustrating. We don’t even know how that happened and even though he is free of it, he is the one that being the more used and manipulated. God that’s really sad.

Rin, she was a really interest character during this season, Im still a bit confused to why Akito hates her so much to the point she almost kill her. Rin is just a mess like all the other zodiac members. Her relationship with Hatsuharu is so good, I mean they are a mess but I love them, and I know everything would get better for them soon. For now I really want to see more of Rin with Touru, that friendship it’s going to be everythin

Now related to other couples. This season didn’t focused much on Kyo but the small moments of he realizing his love for Touru, and viceversa, was the most amazing thing for me, I really love these two. I’m still laughing about Hana being in love with Shishou. And for next season I hope we get to see a bit more of Mayuko sensei and Hatori’s relationship I absolutely adore it when they mention it this season.

And I really need to see my precious Momiji with his little sister being all happy and loved by his whole family, and now that Kyo and Kagura’s feelings where talked I hope we get to see her with true happiness next season. Hope we get a bit more of Ritsu next season. And, Kisa and Hiro are the cutest I want to see them all grown up and together.

Ayame was such a great brother this season, his character brought me so much smiles, he was so fun and attentive, I really liked that he was so involved with Yuki’s school activities. Now, again, Shigure, I still don’t understand him, that dude, sometimes I love him and sometimes no. Hopefully next season is long and I will get all my answers.

I can’t believe next season is the Final, I don’t know if everything will be solved in just one more season, man, I’m going to cry like a baby just like I did with this season last ep, seriously Kureno’s situation is really frustrating. My final score 10/10⭐️✨

[satoruvt]

fanfic writer tag game <3

helloooo <3 thank u for tagging me @hannie-dul-set this is so cute lol

ummmm! i think i will tag. @leejuyeeon and @seokmingiggles !! and as always anyone else who wants to <33

peum ~

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

omg lets see if i can do this in order. i think the first fandom i ever wrote fanfic for was creepypasta LMAOO and then... fairy tail? then 5 seconds of summer, then maybe it 2017?? voltron legendary defender, detroit become human, monster prom and mystic messenger kind of overlapped, the arcana !!! then my hero academia, haikyuu, a Little bit of demon slayer... i think thats it lol

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

seventeen is all for rn, but i’m thinking of also writing for mha again and adding jjk!!

3. how long have you been writing?

oh wow for like... probably around 6 years? maybe 6 and a half

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?

rn just tumblr, i used to post more actively on ao3 but i havent since i started writing for kpop

5. what is your favourite genre to write?

ahhh like !!! comfort fics!!! i think theres something really sweet in those unspoken feelings during moments you think you’ll never forget... the idea of being with someone and you’re just so sure they’re your favorite person, and then warmth that comes with that realization... wahh

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

oh it depends i think. for longer fics i like to plan them out, but i really wing it with like timestamps or shorter ones

7. one shot or multi-chapter?

ONE SHOTS. my god i fucking suck at multi-chapter shit LMAOO ive only done 1 series like that and it was so rough for me lol

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

hm how do i explain this... anything that makes sense? however long it takes for it to feel like the chapter/fic is summed up or completed. i used to worry about word counts a lot but now i rarely pay attention to them, both in reading and writing

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?

if we’re talking about multi-chaptered, then the color of you wins at 17k !! in terms of one shots, it’s for now; forever at 9k!

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

oh boy. i think... anything from the last like. 8 months? my svt stuff for sure!! i went a while without writing in between like january-late november 2020, and i was worried that my writing would suffer a lot... it took a sec for me to get back into the groove of things but i’m feeling happier than ever with the stuff i write now. i feel like ive matured about the way i approach my own writing and ideas, and how i do everything, and my fics make me really proud. ive started writing within different aus that i hadnt touched before, or talking about different feelings or ideas, etc... i really feel like ive grown with this most recent burst lol, and i love working on them! i get so hyped up when im in the middle of writing or even planning, im just so excited to share all of it hehe

11. favorite request you've have written and why (if any?)

ah its been so long since ive worked with requests that i cant remember anything LOL

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

yes. it is comfort and content. it is the feeling of love. it is holding hands on a walk in the middle of spring and smelling flowers. it is the sound of leaves when a gust of wind blows past. it is looking into ur lovers eyes and feeling nothing but pure fondness

13. current number of wips?

fuck like somewhere around 20 probably

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i really like repetition (specifically in sentences if that makes sense??), LOTS of unspoken things (even if i picture a fic with an established relationship, i dont say it within the fic; and especially concerning romantic feelings, i love when things go unsaid and are FELT full force), i think a lot of detailed rambling... i really like to try and describe emotions and stuff in the most abstract and obscure ways lol i feel like it makes things a little more palpable and honest

15. a quote you like from a published story

im gonna do a few. Lol. firstly this long one from pretend people can unlearn:

“Are you…” Jeonghan starts, and when you look at him, his eyes are still on the city in front of you. “Are you ever afraid that we’ll fall out of love?”

It never occurred to you that this was love. It’s not like the love you’ve experienced in the past, not even close. But maybe… maybe that’s why you never leave, why you hold yourself back from certain arguments like it might fix everything. Maybe love is the reason why Jeonghan still seems to believe in you. Why he promises he’ll be the best thing for you despite always breaking that promise.

(Is it love, a voice in your head questions, or is it longing?)

It takes you a while to respond. “I don’t know,” you end up saying, because you really don’t. Jeonghan turns his head and looks at you, and you half expect him to start an argument in the middle of night, out on the street like this. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Would that… be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan answers, just like you. His voice is soft. You want to reach for his hand just to hold it. “You’re still…”

He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right word. You let him take his time, for once, instead of accusing him of the worst. “I’m still?”

“Everything,” he tells you. He looks so sad and you reach out for him because it’s the only thing you can offer. You think the worst thing about your relationship with Jeonghan is that you will always believe him when he gets like this, just like you’ll believe him when he takes it back in the heat of a fight.

next is from like there isn’t something missing <3

But you’re crying into his chest because it’s not you, and it’s not him. Seungcheol wonders if it was always meant to be like this, if the two of you were always meant to part or if something… if something just went wrong, somewhere. A bump that did a bit more damage than either of you thought.

He tries not to think about it now. Tears fill his own eyes as he presses a kiss to your hair because he loved you. He truly did.

“I was so lucky to love you,” he murmurs, voice a cracked whisper. “I’m so happy I got the chance.”

When Seungcheol wakes up the next morning in an empty bed, he’s not surprised. But the Post-It note that’s dressed in your handwriting…

Well. It’s over.

and this last one from only for you, i will dance !!

“This will always be our own time,” he says. “We’ll meet here.”

You know. He says it every time. It never fails to make your heart soar.

“Our thirteenth month,” you say, just like every time. Chan smiles.

He kisses you so strong you feel yourself falling.

16. a quote from an unpublished story

ahh ok ill do a few here too!!! one is something ive begun writing, the other is one that i’ve just been working on planning out <3

Smoke blows past somebody else’s lips and partially obstructs Wonwoo’s view of you.

He hasn’t been to a party like this in a long time. It’s elegant, more of a gala than anything. He can’t remember who threw it or for what reason. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, watching you make conversation with the partygoers. They all have old money to throw around, the symbolism stitched into their suit jackets and red-rimmed heels; remnants of it left on tables and in the contents of expensive cigars.

You play them like you are one of them, tell them the right things with a silver tongue. Wonwoo always watches, plays the part of an observer. It’s impressive, the way you float around the room like it’s nothing.

Wonwoo observes; Wonwoo knows things.

and the second one...

"you don't know me," you respond. your voice carries no bite, just a fact, and joshua knows this

"i want to," he says after a second. "if you'll let me."

and he's asking permission to be your friend, to be close to you, something so tender and strangely polite

it makes you feel almost sad

"don't expect too much," you say, a little teasing. joshua only smiles

17. space for you to say something to your readers

wahhh thank you all so much!!! when i first got into writing for kpop it was a lot different mostly because i think... i was writing stuff for different anime before, and i had built up a big following because of that and my works always did like, really exceptional in terms of notes and feedback and such, and getting into kpop... has been rough on that end 💀 but i appreciate your support thus far, even if it’s small... i’m still working towards a standard that i have for myself!!! so please be patient with me, thank you for the support !!

also please find it in yourself to leave lil comments or any sort of feedback... please..... PLEASE... any creator ever understands this struggle please always try to do this!!! for me and for any other creator you follow and enjoy content from <333

[atinybitofau]

[PART 5] S A N ⇲ royal series au

RECAP: san is king of eden, you’re queen of elos under one nation along side 7 other lone kings. you stop by the kingdom of serene with seonghwa’s not-so-happy reaction to the announcement of your coronation. two lovely king brothers decide to pay you a little visit when you do get home not long after.

• series masterlist •

⇩ PART FIVE ⇩ , click me to read part four.

“How was your trip, darling?”

Exhausted and feeling extremely restless from the 9 hour long journey back to Serene, you couldn’t help but glare at the chirpy early bird who smirked as you were escorted out of your carriage.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, we’ll be leaving for your Elos soon. It’s only an hour more.” He adds in spite of your annoyed expression.

“I’m going smear that smirk on your face right off if you don’t get me a glass of water in the next 10 seconds.”

“Already done.”

The thick eyebrowed Serene king whips out from behind his back a tall glass of purified water and you gawk at him in appreciation.

“You know me too well, King Park.”

“Mhm.”

You take his offering hand as he leads you inside his simple castle, a home cozy for a lone bachelor like himself. You glance at him while walking through his empty corridors, seeing the dark bags that had grown under his eyes and the tired look he sent forward despite his normal kingsley aura.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him as you find settling place in his study.

He sighs. “Hongjoong and I have been receiving threats against your kingdom and are handling it accordingly. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, okay? I’m fine.”

“I know enough to handle it myself.” You assured him, hand strongly gripping the rests besides you. “And it seems as though the rest of you as of late is losing too much sleep over the matter. I’m quite capable, Seonghwa.”

He chuckles at that running his frail long fingers through his midnight colored hair. “Enough of that. How was Aurora? I’m sure Mingi treated you well.”

“He is a force to be reckoned with that King Song.” You smile at the thought of Mingi forgetting Seonghwa’s lack of trust in you. “But I’m more surprised at King San’s commodity. Im afraid you’re right. He is kinder than meets the eye.”

“Oh?” He laughs in shocked amusement. “Is that so? When you left Serene you were no more than disapproving of keeping the man company.”

“I can see why you hold him in such a regard. I didn’t realize how out of touch he was with everybody else. As if he’s fragile and a little bit afraid. Like a child? He’s lost and though he looks capable.. I’m not sure his mental state is.”

“San was anything but the ordinary when we were young and still the same today.”

“Still annoying, a pain in my side, yes.” Feeling defeated, you sigh. “But I find him very honest when it comes to being around me.”

You think of his smile. The one time you ever saw it.

“And what’s this I hear of a coronation ball? My men can’t stop running their mouths if whether or not it’ll be open to our Kingdom’s clergy.”

You raise an eyebrow at Seonghwa’s curiosity. “It was Yeosang’s idea to bring forth the date. They think the sooner the celebration, though in midst of my father’s wake, would rile up high contenders for a husband.”

“I don’t. In fact, your coronation was to be in 60 days. No more no less of that. We had an agreement.” He seemed firm on that making you sink back in your chair. “Yeosang has no right to implement his opinions in your life. Neither the others. If it’s not Hongjoong, I forbid it.”

“And how about your’s, King Park?”

“I am your closest thing to a guardian.”

You narrow your sullen eyes. “Then you know I need a husband. You said so yourself.”

“Arranged with a man I see fit to wear a crown beside you.” Heated from the conversation, he clasps at his own arm rests. “Y/n, at your weakest, is not the time to find a suitor at random to take over a Kingdom’s reign. That being Elos— yours. Which is one of our strongest. You need a King.”

“There are many across our nations, Seonghwa!” You stood upon his stance. “What is wrong with choosing a prince of that sort. I see no difference when we all have the same anatomy.”

“I see what’s fit for you. And a prince in a far off land is too fanatical.”

Realizing in his nervous and abrupt defense, you knew now the reason why he didn’t want you searching on your own.

“You’ve already found me a suitor, haven’t you?”

A moment of silence rages upon the both of you and blasts your fury in red— the only color you see at the moment.

“I can’t believe you.” You take it upon yourself due justice to gather your belongings and quickly flee the room, Seonghwa following quite hastily.

“Mingi is a fine suitor and you know it.”

Your eyes widened in horror and you whip around to slap him across his beautiful face. Though his astounding reaction gave you more ill will.

“Mingi is also my friend and a king of a beloved kingdom.” He snaps his eyes, glaring appalled by your sinister action clearly not fit for a queen. “If I had known you wanted me to marry King Song I wouldn’t have agreed to making a trip to Aurora. King San included— how could you punish him for nothing at all?”

He huffs in utter shock. “You’re defending him?”

“I’m defending myself.”

“Must I remind you, his innocence regarding your father’s passing is still in question. Don’t forget that.”

“For the topic at hand, that matter doesn’t seem too important to me right now.” You hiss back, mind blurred over anger and disgust.

“Y/n, you need to marry a man who will benefit your kingdom and serve you the right of a loving husband. Where does Mingi lack?”

“In my loving judgement.” You snap. “I love him as a friend and nothing more and so with the rest of you. I will find a husband I seek worthy and I want you to be at my side to support me on that. Do I make myself clear, King Park or do I need to elaborate once more?”

His throat bobs and he swallows down the anger with a twitching glare. You relieve a heavy breath, jaw clenched and so with your fists.

“If Mingi desires my hand in marriage, he will earn it. Just like anybody else would.” You let down your furious tension and look to him pleadingly. “Please forgive me, Seonghwa but I want you to be by my side for it all. Despite your monarchic views.”

“He knows nothing.” He presses his lips firm and reaches for your hands. “Don’t meddle him about wanting to marry you. He’s only confided his feelings with me. There was no arrangement otherwise, alright?”

“I know you care about me. All of you. But let me live my own life as well.”

He lovingly sighs leaning down to gently kiss you on the cheek, his lips hovering over your ear.

“I can only do of what I’m capable.”

“Queen y/n~ your dates have arrived for the evening.”

You turn around in midst of being measured for a coronation gown, two familiar looking brothers walk into your bedroom. They beamed with loving eyes before charging at you like red eyed bulls.

“YUNHO! WOOYOUNG! PUT ME DOWN!”

These two will be the death of you.

When you came face to face with the different faces of the Jung’s, you panned in abstinent glee. Yunho flicks at your hair, Wooyoung holding his thumbs and index’s up in a form a square with you inside of it.

You roll your eyes and cocked a hand at your hip. “What are the both of you doing here?”

“Well since you were so adamant about pushing the date for your coronation ball, Seonghwa requested us to ready you ourselves. That includes dress picking.”

You scoff in annoyed displeasure. “An ‘I miss you’ would’ve sufficed.”

“Personally, I miss you. My brother doesn’t speak for me.” Wooyoung came from behind you in the mirror and held his hands to your bare shoulders. “But you really don’t have to appease to the things Yeosang suggests.”

You look at yourself in the mirror before glancing at the two kings behind you.

“The one thing I could do for my father is serve his place. And letting a husband of mine enforce new ideals to my kingdom scares me.” You turn around to face the more practical one of the two. “Maybe Seonghwa was right. Maybe I will make a weak ruler. But I sure as hell am gonna try to make my kingdom trust me enough to get better at it.”

“Are you entirely sure being crowned in front of the other kingdoms’ clergy would serve a better outcome for you?” Yunho was concerned. Sat up feeling uncertain for your well being. “Your safety could be compromised, y/n.”

“My safety’s been compromised as soon as my father died.” Your eyes are icy when glanced in between the duo.

Yunho, the idealist of the two only smiles in attempt to assure you.

“Now are you guys really here for my opinion or are you here because Seonghwa sent you?”

Wooyoung chuckles at that. “Always an observant, Queen y/n.”

“Seonghwa sent us to verify your invitations.”

“For heavens sake–“

“Y/n it’s our duty to ensure your safety, ours and your kingdom’s as well, is it not?”

You exasperatedly huff shaking your trembling hands in fury. “Yes but that doesn’t mean meddling in my affairs. This is my Kingdom and I will do what I please.”

The boys press their lips together almost in obedience. You understand they mean well and know they have no intentions of hurting your feelings but it’s still something you didn’t want. You didn’t like that your life was being chosen for you, dictated for you. And you admit, running a Kingdom alone was difficult but you knew you also didn’t need their help when finding a husband for it. This coronation somehow becoming more of a crowning rather a search for your King.

“Boys, I know you love me to death and you’d sacrifice even your lives to protect me but know that I am well fit to run my own life if not the Kingdom’s, yes?” You stand across them putting your arms over your chest. “If Seonghwa pleases, I’ll talk to any kingsman he throws at me. But if I do fail at choosing a right suitor then I promise I’ll take the hand of the man you all please for me. For the sake of the kingdom.”

“We’re only concerned for you, y/n.”

“Then you can concerned over choosing my dress for the occasion.” You run your hands over your silk robe. “That’s something I can’t seem to decide on my own.”

Wooyoung who was momentarily uninterested by the subject at hand, shoots up from his seat with puppy dog eyes. “Really? Really?”

“Yes, Wooyoung. Really.”

“Good. Finally something you’re willing to let us choose.”

p.s rough edit

@atinybitofau

a/n: we seeing some major san x reader content soon. I’m excited lmao

[bleufrost]

Crawl Home to Her || A Ben Hanscom Series

Chapter Four: Not a Stranger

a/n: aaand we're back! let's see if I can get y'all back into this like im getting myself back into writing it (:

thank you all for being patient with me, if youre still here reading I love you so much.

masterlist

summary

rating: m for graphic depictions of violence, gore, and adult themes

The few feet between Ali and Ben feel like miles as her feet push her forward. Ali was refusing to bother with words, knowing exactly who this man was and how desperately she had waited for him all these years. His arms part instinctively, holding her to his chest as if it were the safest place in the universe and he was determined to protect her. Although years were spent apart, the feeling of being strangers was lost on both Ali and Ben; instead being replaced by the knowledge that they had not only grown up together, but had also been a saving grace for each other. 

Ali’s breathing becomes unsteady as she feels Ben’s hand slide up to her neck. She isn’t afraid of him by any means, but the realization that somewhere in her life she forgot about him makes her uneasy; guilty in more ways than one. Tears spring to her eyes and a panic she has not felt since childhood comes upon her suddenly, causing Ben to pull back and look her over quickly in search of the cause of her distress. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? I know I look different, but I swear I’m not a stranger.” Ben laughs nervously, trying to lighten the mood while also allowing her a moment to breathe. His hands never leave her, part of him unwilling in the event that she might slip away from him once more. 

“I tried so hard for so long to remember you, but I never could. Ben, I forgot about you and I know that sounds awful but I swear I never meant to. You were always there, right at the edge of my mind, but I could never reach you. I’m so sorry.” Her voice shakes as she speaks and Ben has the overpowering need to hold her again and reassure her that everything was perfectly okay. So, that’s exactly what he does.

His thumbs brush across her cheeks, wiping away the tears that slipped past her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Ali. I’m sure Mike will explain everything, but from what I heard you aren’t the only one who’s had some missing pieces from their memory. It’s okay, we can catch up and everything will feel like we never spent a second apart.” Her breathing is still heavy, but a small smile finds its way upon her lips. He reciprocates and there is nothing he wants more than to kiss her in that moment, but he knows that he can't. She just admitted that she had forgotten everything for the longest time, throwing something like that on her now when she was just starting to get her life back was unfair and selfish. He had waited years, a little longer would be no problem at all.

“You ready to go in?” His voice was calm and patient, letting her know that she was allowed to take as much time as she needs. She was ready now though, something deep within her telling her that she could do anything now that the piece she was missing had been found. The pair begin to walk closer to the entrance, taking comfort in the close proximity of their bodies. 

Standing right in front of the door was someone that they both had missed severely; even if Ali just now was remembering that she did. Ben reaches down, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand and smiling toward the girl that had been his first official crush. “Is there a password or something?” Ali laughs beside him, Ben really was proving himself to be the master of throwing back phrases at people. It just further solidified what Ali already knew: they all meant something extraordinary to each other. 

Recognition does not dawn on Beverly Marsh’s face as quickly as it did Ali’s. She turns and stares for a moment. “I’m sorry?” The wrapper crinkles in Ali’s hand as she tears it off and slowly pops the candy into her mouth. Beverly watches her and slowly, her face begins to change with a sense of recollection. 

“New Kid?” His voice is hopeful as he says the nickname aloud for the first time in forever. The redhead’s eyes scan over Ali and Ben a little longer as the gears work in her head. “Ali? Ben?” Ali smiles excitedly and Ben lets out a relieved puff of air. While she nods her head, smile still beaming back at Beverly, Ben lifts his arm gently in an attempt to welcome Beverly into a hug. Bev comes forward, wrapping her arms around the both of them quickly and laughing. 

“Oh my god!” The three stand there for a while, hugging in a way that feels familiar to each of them. Ali never enjoyed being touched by other people, she shied away from hugs and general contact because it always felt so wrong to her. This though, felt right. She felt comfortable for the first time in as far back as her still-hazy memory could go. 

“it's been so long.” When Ben says this, it sounds less like a sad regret and more like a happy reassurance. It had been so long, but the wait was over at last. 

"You guys look great!" Seperating, the trio find the source of the voice in the form of who could only be Richie Tozier. He looks down at himself and scoffs. “What the fuck happened to me?” 

Once more, Ali finds herself closing the distance between herself and her old friend. Images flash before her eyes, showing her of a time when her and Richie would get into arguments, sometimes heated, that would always end in rolling eyes and smiles. He had kept her on her toes as a kid, but sometimes things like that only prove to strengthen the bond you have with someone. 

Part of Ali was expecting to see someone else walk up with Richie; she doesn’t know why but the distinct recollection of his lovestruck face brings itself to the forefront of her mind and she is almost disappointed to find him alone. 

“Hey Trashmouth!” They all laugh while Ali and Richie hug. The nickname definitely came easy to remember. “Are you fucking serious? I escape this shit for years just to come back and immediately get fucking ridiculed. That’s unreal, Ugly Duckling.” Ali pulls back from the hug and stares at him with shock on her face. Now that was a name she hadn’t heard in forever. 

Ben almost intervenes, afraid that maybe Ali won’t receive the banter as such. It takes a moment, but the shock slowly slides into amusement. She shoves his shoulder and hugs him again; she really had missed them all.

The rest of them greet each other with warm smiles, Beverly and Ben also fall victim to Richie’s incessant need to say whatever’s on his mind, and soon it is time to go in. 

With shaky hands, Ali follows the group to the entrance of the brightly lit restaurant. She falls behind a bit, trying to hide behind the rest of them as Richie continues to lighten the mood with his voice. It takes only a second for Ben to turn and notice how quiet she has gotten, and in that same second he halts his walking, waits for her to catch up, and falls into step alongside her. 

Their shoulders bump as they walk and Ali finds the feeling of warmth radiating from his open palm to be immensely more inviting than the illuminated building. His knuckles graze hers gently, as though he is calling her toward him in a way. She takes the invitation as soon as he is willing to give it, slowly sliding her hand into his larger one.

Ben doesn’t look down when he feels her soft hand find his own. He simply takes it and wraps his fingers in hers, driving away the cold of her palm with the comforting heat of his body. The nervous trembling doesn’t stop, but it does subside and that is more than Ben could ever ask for. 

Finally looking down, Ben catches the twinkling lights reflecting in Ali’s eyes. Smiling felt so foreign to him until today, and he feels his eyes come alight for what very well may be the thousandth time since arriving. Her own mouth curves up into the smallest of smiles as she notices him staring, and Ben can’t help but think it is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

Tags (ive been gone a while so i understand if youd like to be taken off, just message me): @stanley-barbs​ @bvrningdesires​ @floralpiper​ @thesmittenkitkat​ @daisysinadarkmedow​ @auggusst​ @isabellathedreamer​ @makbubblefandom​ @1988-fiend​ @alexther11​ @goldenmoonbeam​

let me know if you want to be added to the list!

a/n: as always, i greatly appreciate every read, like, reblog, and comment so much! feedback is always happily welcome and i hope you guys liked this chapter.

this is a side blog so i cant respond to comments (although i love to read them!!) but if yall ever wanna talk just shoot me an ask or message me! I love talking to yall <3

coming up...this meeting of the losers club has officially begun.

[whumpsideblog]

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 This is the ending. Of Silas and Alastair specifically anyway. I have so much more planned with Silas because he’s fun to hurt. I will admit, this isn’t all that much whump at all, pretty much all aftermath, but it was necessary.

 Thank you so much to everyone who actually read this series, and to all the people who left nice things in the tags and replies and sent me asks about this series! I honestly never thought I would write more than three parts of this and here we are finishing on part fucking fifteen! I’m happy to finally end this though, and can’t wait to terrorize Silas some other way :)

***

 He wasn’t better, and he wasn’t okay. But he would be. 

 The first few days after they got home felt weird to him. Alastair was dead, and he was free from him and that mansion, but he couldn’t just forget it. Dahlia said he was grieving, and he wasn’t sure how long that would take, how long he would be kept up at night crying over what that vampire did to him. 

 After being home for a couple days he finally got out of bed due to a knock at the door. At first he didn’t move, but Dahlia wouldn’t stop yelling for him so he finally got up. He was surprised to see Elise at their door, looking happier than he ever saw her in that mansion. She wasn’t even wearing her maid uniform as she did before, dressed in normal clothes. The moment she saw Silas she grinned, rushing over and almost knocking him down with a hug. She quickly let go though, taking a step back. 

 “S-sorry, I know you don’t like being touched- I just… thank you.” She smiled at him. “I haven’t been home in years because of him… none of us have, actually… the whole mansion has cleared out by now, we… we can finally go home.” She grinned. 

 “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” He smiled tiredly. “If you hadn’t gotten Dahlia I would have never gotten out of there.”

 “O-oh, no, I didn’t… I really didn’t do much, I mean…” She was getting all flustered trying to put her thoughts into words. Much to her surprise, and Dahlia’s for that matter, he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, lifting her up easily. He couldn’t believe how small she was, he was almost worried that he would hurt her. 

 “Thank you, Elise, I mean it. You know I’m serious, because I’m hugging you.” He laughed softly. He could hardly remember the last time he actually laughed. He set her down after a moment though, even if he was willing to hug her he did have his limits. 

 Dahlia tried to get Elise to stay longer, but she did have a family of her own to get back to, and they certainly weren’t going to keep her from that. They had killed countless vampires, been hired by countless people to do so, but it was rare they ever got a thank you beyond the agreed upon payment. They didn’t need one, at least, Silas never thought it was necessary, but he did feel a little bit better after Elise came by. 

 He wasn’t the only one hurt by Alastair. Dahlia had been hurt, held captive just like he was, and Elise and the rest of the staff had been kept there for who knows how long. Their families probably thought they were dead by now, Elise herself said she’d been gone for years, forced to work under a horrible, abusive master. Not to mention the people who had died because of him, humans were disposable to him, just things to play with until he got bored. 

 Silas wondered why he didn’t get rid of him, why he wanted to keep him so bad that he turned him, but he also wondered if he would’ve gotten bored of him too. 

 ***

 It had been roughly a week home, he still had a hard time believing it. Dahlia seemed to have returned to her normal routine, she was still having trouble with a wrist that wouldn’t heal right but had yet to see a doctor for it. Silas tried to go back to normal, but it was hard.

 He couldn’t go out in the sun anymore, there was that obstacle. He tried to sleep during the day but felt guilty leaving Dahlia to tend to the house and run errands by herself, so he eventually went back to sleeping at night, just keeping the house closed off from sunlight during the day. He tried to spend some time outside once the sun went down, but still refused to go into town with her at night.

 He found that he was terrified of being around other people all of a sudden. He’d never been all that social to begin with, but the idea of anyone in the village finding out he was a vampire scared him. For most of them, their experience with vampires was limited to Alastair, a terrifying ever looming figure who stole their loved ones and killed them. They feared vampires, and Silas didn’t blame them, but he was still scared. He knew he was a monster, but he also knew he’d never hurt anyone. He’d only accepted blood from Dahlia, and even then he only didn’t refuse it because a starving vampire was the most dangerous kind. 

 He couldn’t hide the fact that he was a vampire. The red eyes were a dead give away, it was like a warning sign to humans to stay the fuck away from him and find a hunter. He didn’t know if the fact he was a hunter himself would be enough to make people trust him, especially since he’d never given them a reason to trust him as a human. He knew he’d have to face it someday, but for right now he was perfectly content confining himself to their house. 

 ***

 Two weeks had come and gone. Why was he still letting Alastair affect him?

 He had more or less grown used to the nightmares, the guilt that hit him every time he tried to go to sleep, the voice that told him he was the monster. They would go away over time, he didn’t have the ability to control them completely and will them away by force, but he would recover, someday. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling of Alastair’s hands all over him, constantly touching him, but more than once he’d joked that the vampire had become a ghost with the sole intent of harassing him for eternity. Joking about it did more to help than how he frantically scrubbed and scratched himself when he bathed, wishing he could wash away the vampire’s touch.

 As for his body though, he had complete control over that, over what he did, over how he dressed. So why was he still holding himself to Alastair’s standards? Two weeks had come and gone, and in that time he hadn’t once realized that he was still presenting himself the way Alastair demanded he did. Every day he got up, he dressed nicely and braided his hair, even shaved his face when he needed to and never even tried to take off that collar. He didn’t realize it until Dahlia pointed it out.

 “Why do you still braid your hair?” She asked, sitting on her bed and watching him.

 “What?” He frowned, looking to her as he finished up the braid. “I… don’t know. I guess I’m just used to it…” He never did braid his hair before Alastair, Dahlia tried sometimes but he always hated it, thought he looked stupid. Even though he was so dead set on keeping it long, he didn’t take care of it very well, and styling only went as far as a messy ponytail every day. He only brushed and braided it every day now because Alastair made him.

 “You know you don’t have to, right…? I mean, it’s fine if you want to but…”

 “I know I don’t have to, it’s just… it’s how he liked it and I worry that if I do it differently he’ll…” It sounded stupid when he said it out loud, and he didn’t like the look Dahlia was giving him.

 “He’s dead, Silas. He’s not here to like it or dislike it, he can’t do anything.”

 “I know, I know that, I just… fuck, I don’t know.” He started undoing his hair from the braid, messing it up all over again. “I know he’s dead, but I still… feel him? Like he’s always over my shoulder, ready to slap me or beat me or pull my hair because I’m not doing what he wants. I know he’s dead, but…”

 “But you’re still scared of him.” She sighed and got up, coming over to him. “We’ve been home for a while now, but I’ve never seen you even try to take that collar off. You don’t have to be afraid.” She said softly. “You don’t belong to him anymore.”

 “I… I don’t belong to him… you’re fucking right I don’t belong to him!” He was almost angry that he let this go on so long, that he never thought of the small things he was still letting the vampire control. He stormed out of the room and Dahlia followed him.

 “What are you doing?” She asked, sounding concerned, while Silas searched the house for something.

 “Getting rid of all this.” He motioned to his hair, finding a pair of scissors and going to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. She seemed concerned as she leaned against the door frame, but if she wanted to stop him she didn’t. He grabbed a fistful of his thick dark hair, holding it out and cutting it off. 

 All he could think of was that fucking vampire, pulling his hair, braiding his hair, brushing his hair from his face and running his fingers through it. He’d had some sort of fixation with his hair, almost ruining it for Silas now. When he was younger he’d wanted nothing more than to grow it out, most of the men he looked up to had long hair, and before that he’d been forced to keep it short, every few months he was held down while someone got uncomfortably close to his head with a pair of scissors. It wasn’t worth it though, Alastair would want him to keep his hair long and that was reason enough for him to cut it all off. 

 By the time he finished it was a messy job, his hair was naturally wavy and stuck out in odd places. It didn’t look great, but it was gone, and that was what mattered.

 “Do you feel better…?” Dahlia asked.

 “Kind of.” He laughed softly. He struggled for a moment to cut that collar off, before remembering he was a vampire and could easily snap it. He breathed a sigh of relief once it was off though, for the first time he didn’t feel the vampire’s grip around his throat.

 “It… looks good.” She said, causing him to laugh harder.

 “No it doesn’t!” He ran a hand through it, feeling relieved to have it all gone. She was laughing too now, coming over to mess with it. 

 “Here, I’ll fix it for you.” She gently took his arm, pulling him out of the bathroom. Cutting his hair wouldn’t get rid of the things Alastair did to him, it wouldn’t make all the hurt and trauma go away, and it wouldn’t make him human again. All that mattered, though, was that it made him feel better.

***

 He was better, but he wasn’t okay. He knew that he would be though.

 Alastair had hurt him. He had taken everything from him to make him exactly what he wanted. He had turned him into the worst possible thing, and had ruined him to the point that he couldn’t just ignore it and get over it. He was still plagued with nightmares, he still found himself wondering and worrying about what he would think of things, only to remind himself- He was dead.

 Alastair had hurt him, but he couldn’t anymore. Silas had made sure he knew that in his final moments, and he was going to stand by that. He had to if he wanted to actually live and not just wallow in his own misery for the rest of eternity. 

 He slowly got used to being a vampire, he adapted to his new abilities and limitations, and he slowly got used to drinking blood every day. He even started leaving the house again, always careful to hide his eyes when around other people. He started taking jobs with Dahlia again, in some ways being a vampire actually helped with work. He would never have his old life back, but there was no reason that he couldn’t learn to enjoy his new one.

 Silas was getting better, coping with what happened and recovering from the pain he suffered. He wasn’t okay, but he didn’t worry about it as much anymore, because he knew that someday, he would be.