#wonder where my love of miniatures came from…

[demonic0angel]

Jazz has been cursed to be borrower size. Jason’s been doing his best to care for her til the curse can be reversed, getting her a size appropriate doll house with plumbing and a full wardrobe.

(Omg I love the borrower verse)

Jazz sighed. She sat on a chair in the doll kitchen that Jason made for her and said sullenly, “I feel like a doll.” She poked at the food on her table, all downsized to fit her.

Jason did not say anything, but his face must’ve reflected it because she glared at him and said, “Don’t look so happy.”

“Sorry, Princess,” he said, smoothing his face over instantly. He handed her half of a cherry tomato and she glowered, before cutting it up and putting it on her little miniature burger. She was too distracted to notice him, but Jason was inwardly screaming and crying and throwing up.

She was so ridiculously cute, surely this should’ve been illegal by now?!

She ate her burger and washed her hands in the dollhouse’s kitchen sink, which Jason had personally installed and then she said with a sigh, “I guess you want me to change my clothes again?”

Jason beamed. “Can you? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She just sighed again and shook her head. “No, I suppose this is payment for taking care of me.” She went into a side room and came out a few moments later with her outfit changed into a pencil skirt and a dress shirt with a garter belt and little boots. She wore a French beret and her hair was clipped up with a tiny pearl.

Jason, on the outside, nodded seriously at her and said, “You look good.” Jason, on the inside, was thanking God and every deity up there for this blessing. There was something incredibly pleasing and wonderful about having the ability to keep Jazz in his pocket all day and have her depend on him.

He reached for her and she stepped into his hands carefully. He stood up from where he was crouched over the dollhouse and then he carried her to his desk. He set her down gingerly and she walked around until she was in front of his reports, looking over them with a critical eye. Jason sat in his own seat and looked at the rest, allowing her to take her time and read the large words.

After a while, they worked together in silence as Jazz would occasionally pick up a large pen (to her, at least), and start writing carefully while Jason organized his things and made plans for the week.

By the next hour, Jazz seemed exhausted.

“When is this curse going to end?” She asked grumpily. She kicked the pen and it rolled once, which only seemed to infuriate her even more.

Jason grinned and used a finger to brush against her cheek. “It won’t take long. Just a few more days, and I can handle everything, alright?” She grabbed onto his finger and climbed on like a perching bird, and he paused before obliging and bringing her close to his chest, where she hopped onto his shoulder.

“I want a cupcake for dinner. An entire one. I don’t want to bake tiny cupcakes, I want a regular sized one all to myself.”

Jason grinned even wider and said, “As you wish.”

Whatever Jazz wanted, he would give to the best of his ability.

[necronomi-kun]

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, house divided

dad!lando norris x mom!wife!reader

series masterlist

summary - yours and lando’s little boy has decided to become a fan of a different team, leading lando into a little spiral

masterlist

-

finn norris, yours and landos bubbly pride and joy, was turning three this sunday - subjecting his birthday to a race day. finn had obviously grown up along the track with his dad and all his colleagues and friends which led him to adore and fall in love with the sport that is formula one - scaring the living daylights out of you in his passionate displays of love for the dangerous activity at such a young age. not only was finn bouncing off the walls when lando informed him of where his birthday would be held, he was jumping, shaking and yelling with excitement as the race track was his favorite place on earth. 

“finn, baby, calm down,” you chuckled while giving lando a glance. you both were sat on the couch with your son in front of you in order to tell him the wonderful news. now your adorable little almost three year old was racing around screaming with joy.

lando let out a laugh as well and reached for his son, “if you’re excited about spending your birthday on the track you’ll also be very excited about my other surprise for you,” finn looked up at his father with those same crystal blue eyes and whispered as if it was to himself, “anotha’ supwise?” lando and you share another small laugh at his wonder as he proceeds to get your son his gift. you take this moment to sweep up your still giggly son into your lap and give him a few quick kisses to the top of his head. those delicious baby laughs were all you heard as you felt his face snuggle further into your arms. lando returns as swiftly as he left, yet this time he appears with a large box in his arms. your boy wiggles in your hold until you release him to crawl towards his father. once settled on your husband's lap, lando begins to aid him in opening the bright papaya colored box, leading to your understanding of the exact contents in seconds. lando was always getting sent items from fans that were miniature, or receiving pint-sized merch from mclaren all for his mini me which both of you just doted over. once the wrapping paper and tissue paper were thrown enough around your living room, finn finally poked his head into the box and came out with a frown.

“you don’t like it, bud?” lando softly questions while his eyebrows begin to furrow. “‘s not wed, dada,” your son responds as he eyes his father, confusion listed on all of your faces.

“baby, why would you want your outfit to be red for your birthday? don’t you want to cheer on daddy?” you attempt to understand the little boy by posing the questions but he simply just whips his head around to you even more confused.

“i cheer dada in wed!” his eyes begin to gloss over and you can already feel a temper tantrum about to stir, yet one look over to lando and you understand that both your boys may need a minute to cool down.

“okay finn, why don’t you pick out what you want to bring on the trip? i’ll be right in to help baby,” you reply cautiously as you lift him out of lando’s arms, around the forgotten papaya box, and in the direction of his room.

“otay, momma!” finn shouts as his little legs attempt to quickly take him into his room down the hall. once the tiny steps disappear, you turn to look at your other baby.lando sits on the couch with a blank stare as his hands ring together in front of him.

“he wants to support ferrari, love. not his own father,” lando’s head falls as he speaks and you land on the couch cushion next to him, beginning to run your hand up and down his back. even though finn was born while you both were young and unsure of how to raise a child together, since you were children yourselves, lando was consistently one of the best fathers you had seen. he let the third driver take his seat for a month and a half in order to be a dedicated father and bond accordingly with your son. he doted over you and your needs no matter what the cost or occasion. and overall he cherished approval, whether it be in the bedroom, the track, or parenthood. lando is confident, yes, but he will always want the confirmation that he is doing his best, and that his best is enough - which it is always more than. therefore, you could tell that his son not wanting to support his team, and by partisan him, has led him to conclude that he is not a good racer, role model, or father - and you needed to stop those lies from invading his head.

“lando, he’s two - almost three, he probably just likes the color and wants to wear it,” you reply to his heart heavy confession.

“no he wants to support his uncle carlos, who has been winning and been on all the podiums - oh except for when he was in the hospital having a surgery,” the ending of his small reply held a bitter tone which you knew was not jealousy. lando and carlos are especially close, he is beyond happy and proud of his friend who he knows deserves his winnings, but you could understand the envy appearing when his son is preferring him over his dad.

“lando, it doesn’t matter what team he wants to support, that is your son. and he worships the ground you walk on. trust me. i am with him all the time,” you continue with a chuckle and a funnier tone as you begin to recite the words your son always speaks to you, “it’s always, ‘when’s dada coming home?’ ‘i want dada to tuck me into bed’ ‘can i drive like dada when im older’ and so on. lando, he loves you - you know that. don’t make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. he is three, his intentions are pure,” as you end your speech, lando begins to raise his head looking into your eyes.

“i know, love. it just sucks i guess,” he lets out a quick sigh along with a shrug and meets your eyes again, “you’re still wearing papaya, right?” slight anxiety in his higher pitched question and you begin to laugh, “yes, love, i will always be in your color,” you reply as he hums and leans into your embrace, reaching down to plant a sweet kiss to your lips. just as you pull apart you can hear the quick little pitter patter of feet running down the hallway your little boy emits, trailing behind him is his bluey mini suitcase overflowing with toys and games.

“i all pack!” he squeals in excitement as he races over to you and your husband. lando drops down onto your floor, finn running right into his embrace, followed by a fit of giggles.

“let’s see what you packed, buddy,” your husband replies as he ruffles around finns baby curls. finn then claps a bit until he’s situated on the floor in front of the suitcase. he begins pulling out his items and reciting them to both of you and you respond in a chorus of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”. 

race day   -

as lando struts down the makeshift runway that is the entrance to the paddock, you follow behind a little further as to not draw too much attention to your little son. even though finn had grown up around the paddock, both lando and you are still not fully comfortable with the cameras and attention specifically around your son. therefore, any precaution - even the slightest - to not have him overly immersed in the media you both will take. lando is simply sporting his mclaren team gear, you in a light and well-fit sundress that lando emphasized in the morning you look ‘absolutely ravishing, my darling” and your birthday boy, well, he has arrived in a bright red ‘sainz55’ ferrari shirt as well as a bright and wide smile - something your husband couldn’t even be mad at if he tried, as your son’s smile that bright on his birthday was worth any sort of bruise to the ego. once well inside the paddock, finn begins to wiggle and squirm in your arms wanting to be let down which could only mean one thing.

“UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS! UNCLE LOS!” he begins to cry as you put him on the ground and he takes off towards him.

“FINN! SLOW DOWN!” your husband cries after him as he picks up a jogging pace after his overenthused son. carlos’ head whips around at the voice of his favorite little man as he begins to crouch down and brace for impact with his arms held wide. the little ball of red soon collides with his newfound favorite driver and the two begin to laugh as they hold each other. once you and lando catch up to the pair you can hear the adorable conversation at play.

“i wear wed fo’ you, uncle los!” finn sings happily while prancing around in front of carlos. the spanish driver, still crouched at your son's level, chuckles in admiration as he stares at the boy in front of him, “i think red is your color, pequeño,”

“it is! it is!” finn replies once again jumping around in full excitement.

“i also think it is somebody’s birthday,” carlos says holding a sly grin while staring at the little lando in front of him.

“ME! it’s mine!” your boy continues to jump.

“i think special birthday boys get to sit in their favorite uncles car?” carlos feigns innocence in the question as he looks at lando who holds a grin on his face. finn looks at his father for permission with a slight doe-eyed expression and lando gives him a simple nod before finn and carlos quickly disappear to the ferrari garage.

“i am very proud of you, love. you’ve got a good brave face,” you say quietly to your husband as he reaches down to pull you into a kiss.

“you know why i’m smiling, baby?” lando doesn’t wait for you to answer the rhetorical, “because we just gained a free babysitter for about an hour,” he kisses you again, this time with more urgency as he continues, dropping an octave, “and i’ve got an empty drivers room just waiting for us,” one more kiss and he’s already pulling you into the direction of the mclaren garage with you jogging quickly behind him in a fit of giggles. 

[cailinsblog]

Little Jerseys, Big Cheers: A Night with the Hischiers

Nico hischier x reader

@13hischiers

Masterlist

The arena buzzed with anticipation as fans filed into their seats, but for Y/N Hischier, it was a special night. With her toddler twins, Lilly and Nick, in tow, she made her way to their seats, each child proudly donning miniature New Jersey Devils jerseys. On the back of each tiny jersey was the word “Daddy” above the unmistakable number 13.

“Are we going to see Daddy play?” Y/N asked, adjusting Nick’s jersey as he tugged at his sleeve.

“Yeah! Go, Daddy!” Lilly cheered, clapping her tiny hands, her enthusiasm drawing smiles from the fans around them.

Y/N laughed, hoisting Lilly onto her hip while Nick held onto her free hand. As they reached their seats, the sight of the ice had both twins wide-eyed with wonder. The arena lights sparkled against the pristine surface, and the sound of skates cutting into the ice echoed through the air.

The warmups began, and Nico skated onto the ice. The moment Lilly and Nick spotted him, they squealed with delight.

“Daddy! Daddy!” they shouted in unison, their little voices carrying over the noise.

Nico heard them almost immediately. He turned his head, his face breaking into a broad smile as he spotted his family. He skated closer to their side of the glass, giving a small wave. Nick jumped up and down, trying to get closer, while Lilly pressed her hands against the glass, giggling uncontrollably.

Y/N leaned down to their level. “Look, Daddy’s waving at you!”

The twins waved back furiously, their faces lit up with joy. Nico tapped his stick against the glass in front of them, his smile never fading.

“Daddy’s gonna score a goal tonight,” Y/N whispered to them with a wink, making the twins cheer even louder.

As the game began, Lilly and Nick were glued to the action. Every time Nico came onto the ice, they’d point and yell, “There’s Daddy!” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart full seeing how much they adored their father.

Midway through the second period, the Devils were on a power play. Nico, ever the captain, found the perfect opportunity. He weaved through the defense and took a clean shot—goal!

The arena erupted, and so did Lilly and Nick.

“Daddy scored! Daddy scored!” they screamed, bouncing in their seats.

Nico pointed up toward their section as he skated by, acknowledging his little cheerleaders. Y/N captured the moment on her phone, knowing it was one they’d treasure forever.

By the end of the game, the Devils had secured a solid win, and Nico was named one of the stars of the night. After his on-ice interviews, he made his way to where Y/N and the twins were waiting. Security allowed him to come over, and he scooped both Lilly and Nick into his arms.

“You guys were my lucky charm tonight,” he said, kissing each of their foreheads.

Nick beamed. “We wear Daddy’s jersey!”

“I see that,” Nico said, chuckling as he admired their matching outfits. “Best jerseys in the whole arena.”

Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss Nico. “They were your biggest fans tonight.”

“And always,” Nico said softly, his eyes full of love for his little family.

[umbrella-show]

Platonic Yan Rottmnt

「 ✦ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐘𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐌𝐍𝐓 𝐱 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐭.𝟑 ✦ 」

The final part of my short Yan platonic Rottmnt series :) THIS IS IN NO WAY APPROVING OF A ABUSIVE OR TOXIC RELATIONSHIP

TW: Kidnaping, Stalking

Words : 1661

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

“Here you go, birthday boy, enjoy!” You smiled kindly, placing a cake on the table where a young fish yokai sat with a party hat strapped around his head. He beamed at the cake excitedly, his friends gathering around his table to gawk and drool at the cake, eager to eat. You watched fondly, clasping your hands together behind your back. You watched as another yokai, made of green slime, hopped on top of the table. He shouted loudly from excitement, “Let’s get this party started!” Right at that moment you grabbed a spare menu from another table nearby, opening it in front of your face to shield your face from the sudden splat of Exploding Frankie’s famous party trick. The green goo clung onto the menu before it dripped off and all of the green slime came together to form him again. The kids cheered and you took that as a que you had done your job. 

You loved your job. You loved seeing the smiles on other mutant’s and yokai’s faces when you brought them their meal they had been eagerly waiting for. Your boss, Senior Hueso, was pretty cool. You are forever grateful for him. He took you in when you had nothing and gave you a job as a waiter. The pay was enough for you to buy an apartment in the hidden city. The hidden city was full of wonders. Shortly after you made your escape from the dreaded sewers you had made your way back to the city to find some form of refuge. You had watched, what you learned was a yokai, opening a portal to the mystical city through a graffiti drawing on a wall. You had followed after them and were amazed by the sight of other beings, like you, wandering a city full of mystic and magic.

It’s been 3 months since you escaped the sewers, and you haven’t seen those turtle brothers ever since. You supposed that was a good thing. You didn’t really want to see them ever again after they held you against your will. While living in the sewers wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought, it felt suffocating with all the attention you were given.

“Y/N,” you were snapped out of your thoughts when your boss spoke to you. “Mi amigo manchado, is everything alright.” You gave him a courteous nod, fiddling with the collar of your outfit.  He was always looking out for you. You were one of his most diligent employees, after all. He even told you himself. You did your best to put a smile on everyone’s face. Even the rude customers. 

“I’m alright.” You responded, “just thinking.” You watched your boss look at you with a curious expression as he patted your shoulder. He was always a little concerned when you spaced out to think. You weren't sure why.

“Well then, there are a few more customers you may serve before you clock out.” “I wouldn’t mind working overtime again.” You quickly responded right after he finished speaking. You could use all the extra money. Heuso frowned, shaking his head in disapproval. “Oh no, you, tortuga, need more rest. You have bags under your eyes.” He pointed out, causing you to deflate at his protective tone. However, you weren’t going to argue with him. You didn’t mind getting more sleep anyways. With all of the days you worked overtime, your sleep schedule was basically obliterated.

“Fine,” you muttered in slight disappointment, causing him to give you a proud smile and another pat on the shoulder before walking away and letting you go seat the new customers. You gave him one more glance as he walked. Probably back to his office to work on his miniature wooden ship. You dusted off your apron, making sure you looked presentable for the last customers you were going to serve before walking all the way back to your apartment and collapsing into bed. The more you thought about it, the more excited you were to get more sleep than you usually got.

You glanced at the entrance of the restaurant, about to greet the new customers. Your blood ran cold and you immediately turned around to hide yourself once you saw them. No. There was no way they found you. You dared to take another glance, begging that it wasn’t them. Maybe you mistook someone else for them. You were proven wrong when you took another glance.

The Hamato brothers. They found you. How did they find you? You left no sign that you were here? How did they know about the Hidden city? You thought this was a safe place. The only place they would never find you. You needed to leave. Now.

You began to walk away from them with your back turned to them. You tried to look as discreet as possible. You needed to get to Hueso’s office. Hopefully if you asked him if you could just leave a little earlier, he wouldn’t ask questions and let you. For now, you needed a distraction.

“Excuse me,” you quietly spoke to an unoccupied owl Yokai waiter. “Could you serve them?” You carefully pointed towards the turtle brothers who were already seated at a table. Luckily, by your nervous and uncomfortable expression, the owl nodded and didn’t say a thing as he walked over to serve them. You silently thanked him, standing there for a while. You didn’t realize how shaky your breathing was until now. Your palms felt sweaty and your hands and knees were shaking a bit. You closed your eyes and tried your best to take deep breaths and calm down. You had to keep calm. You needed to blend in. 

You felt a strong urge to check if the turtles were distracted so you could hurry to Hueso’s office. You slowly turned your head as little as you could so your eyes could see them. Leonardo seemed to be talking to the waiter, seemingly ordering for himself and his brothers. Donnie was distracted by his phone and Raph was idly sitting, listening to the waiter list out the food they ordered. Mikey looked especially happy, kicking his feet under the table. You could tell he was extra giddy, seeming excited to get pizza. 

You didn’t know why you continued to watch, most likely looking for reassurance that they were occupied and therefore wouldn’t see you sneak to Hueso’s office. However, just as you were about to turn away, Mikey’s eyes started wandering throughout the restaurant, and soon landed on you. You two engaged in a staring contest, you visibly paling as his face lit up. You tore your gaze away, turning around like it never happened and bolting to your boss’s office. Just before you turned the corner to where Hueso was, you heard a loud whisper from Mikey, alerting his brothers of your presence, you assumed.

You left through a different entrance of the restaurant, one you hoped the turtles didn’t know existed. You bolted to your apartment complex, weaving through the crowd of Yokai in your way. Hueso had graciously let you leave early. You mentally thank him for not asking questions, though he did look suspicious. You wondered if you should tell him some other time. If you did, that might cause the brothers to definitely know you were there. Though, you were sure it didn’t make a difference, considering Mikey already saw you. They all knew you worked here by now. Maybe you could quit and find a different job. Somewhere deeper in the Hidden City. The thought of quitting your job and leaving Hueso out of the blue made you sad. He was the one who took you in when you were desperate and in need of shelter. 

As you continued on to your apartment complex, there were less Yokai in your path and soon enough, you were alone walking through an alley between two other buildings. This was a shortcut you normally took, so you weren’t really on guard or alert. That was a mistake.

The floor suddenly felt as if it disappeared and you felt like you were falling. Your breath hitched, your eyes opening as your body braced itself for some kind of painful impact. Instead, you landed on your backside on what you thought was the floor. You snapped your eyes open and saw you were encased in some purple glowing sphere. You pressed your hands against the walls of your prison. 

“Hey, sib! I didn’t know you got a job at Hueso’s.”

Your blood ran cold at the sound of that voice from behind you, almost not wanting to turn around. However, you did, and stared with wide eyes wide in shock at the sight of the turtle in blue, followed by the rest of them as they stood around you. You pressed yourself against the wall of the round cage, shrinking down like prey to a predator. You watched Leo place his foot on the purple device trapping you.

“It’s a shame, I really thought you’d be able to get us free pizza, or at least a discount.”

You watched him playfully pout, faking looking hurt as he put his hands to his chest. Mikey suddenly hugged the sphere, pressing his face against it with no warning, making you harshly flinch and shrink away from them even more.

“Welcome home, Y/N! We’re so glad to have you back!!!”

You gawked at him, dumbfounded before finally registering his words. Home? You glanced behind him, seeing the familiar walls of Donnie’s lab with computers and machinery all around. You’re mind blanked, your ears catching onto bits and parts of Donnie speaking. Talking about new reinforcements being made to the lair to specifically make sure you don’t escape again. You stared aimlessly at the wall as the feeling of horror and devastation sunk in. 

You were right back where you started. Except this time, there really was no escape.

[w2soneshots]

Dress up -Willne

words: 0.4k+

warnings: none.

summary: your boyfriend takes you out for dinner.

notes: I don’t really watch Will but this was requested on wattpadd so sorry if it isn’t very accurate!🫶🏼 Also its so short, im having a bit of writers block😭💘

Liked by chrismd10 and 391,045 others

y/username: cuties🫶 @willne

-comments-

willne: done me dirty there

calfreezy: my guy basil👊🏻

y/nfanpage21: loveee the outfit girl!!

user26901572: pahahahaha the 4th pic😭

I've been with Will for 4 years now. We met in a pub, he gave me his number... now we share an apartment and have a miniature dachshund named Basil. Yesterday it was our four year anniversary, but we were both busy so decided to celebrate it today. Will booked dinner at a surprise restaurant. The only thing he told me was to "dress up." The reservation is for six so I began getting ready at 4. I took a shower, did my make up, hair, then got dressed into a white skirt and top set along with some white boots and a black bag.

Liked by willne and 419,305 others

y/username: dinner🤍 @willne

-comments-

willne: 🔥🔥🔥

y/nfanpage21: they're so cute🥹

user71457923: where's the set from?

-> y/username: Bershka😘

Once I was ready, I made my way into the lounge. Will immediately got up from being sat on the sofa. "Wow," he pulled me into a kiss "you look beautiful." I smiled "don't look so bad yourself." We left soon after and got a taxi to the restaurant. We paid and thanked the driver then made our way into the building. We were quickly shown to our seats and asked what drinks we would like. "Umm, vodka cranberry, please." I said politely. "okay perfect and for you sir?" The waiter asked Will. "Can I just get a Stella please mate." he said in his strong northern accent. "great, that'll be with you asap." the waiter said, then walked off.

Once our drinks came we ordered our starters and mains. "So, my family were wondering if we would drive down to them and stay for a few days." I said, before taking a sip of my drink. "Ye, that would be great." he replied cheerfully. "obviously we would bring basil, I'm actually starting to think she likes him more than me." I said with a chuckle.

When we finished eating our food, Will payed and we left. We got a taxi back to our apartment, I got into my pyjamas and Will just wore his boxers then we jumped into our bed. "thank you for tonight, love you." I whispered. "Love you, night." Will said. Then he pulled me into him and we fell asleep.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

H and his little boy, him just wanting to copy everything Harry has and does. When Harry does a home workout, he wants to join in. When he shaves, he wants to sit on the counter and shave too. Just literally being a mini Harry 🥺

Like Father Like Son.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

word count - 2.6k

in which, in 2018, you and your fiancé harry welcomed a little baby boy into the world, and his name was sammy. him and his father were exact replicas of each other, same brown tousled curls, forest green orbs, matching dimples and bunny teeth, harry jr. loves everything to do with his father, wherever he went, he wasn’t far behind.

On August 7th, 2018, you and your fiancé welcomed a little boy into the world. He came screaming and fighting, his little lungs constricting with each cry that left his mouth.

And his name, his name was Sammy Robin Styles.

A mini replica of the man you loved, when he was cleaned off and passed back to you in the hospital bed, you noticed that his hair had little wisps on the end which would ultimately turn into full blown curls almost three years later.

It was as if he had been intricately crafted as a miniature replica of Harry himself. Every detail, from the shape of his eyes to the curve of his smile, mirrored that of his dad. It was an awe-inspiring moment, realising that nature had effortlessly bestowed upon this child the essence of Harry Styles.

Now, as the years have passed, it is clear that the similarities between father and son extend far beyond their physical appearance. It's as if the essence of Harry has seamlessly woven its way into every fibre of his son's being. Watching the young boy grow, it feels as though time has fast-forwarded, bypassing the nine months of pregnancy and directly manifesting Harry's persona in this young child.

Just like his father, the little boy exudes an air of charm and charisma that is utterly captivating. With every mischievous grin and twinkle in his eyes, he echoes the magnetism that has captivated audiences worldwide. His infectious laughter fills the room, reminiscent of Harry's own contagious joy that never fails to bring a smile to people's faces.

Even their mannerisms align harmoniously. The way the young boy tilts his head, the gestures he makes with his hands, and the way he carries himself all mirror the idiosyncrasies that make Harry so uniquely himself. It's almost as if the essence of his father has been imprinted on his very soul.

The first time you realised Sammy was like his father, was when he was a year and a half old.

You had fallen asleep on the sofa accidentally encasing yourself in an afternoon nap after being up during the night with Sammy who was teething, and it had knocked all energy out of you.

When you woke up, the house was silent which made you tilt your head to the side and wonder where your lover and angel boy had gotten to.

When you walked down the hallway to the house, that was when you heard the giggles that resembled your sons and the familiar sound of your fiancés voice had you realise that they were in the at home gym.

February 7, 2020.

The door to the at home gym creaks open, revealing a heartwarming sight that melts your heart.

There, on the treadmill, is your fiancé Harry, his toned figure in motion as he runs, sweat glistening on his forehead. But what catches your attention even more is the sight of your one-and-a-half-year-old son, Sammy, running alongside him on the floor, his little legs in a blur as he tries his best to keep up.

You can't help but smile at the adorable scene unfolding before you. Sammy, with his chubby cheeks and tufts of messy hair, is determined to emulate his dad in every way possible. It's a sight that fills you with warmth and joy, knowing that your little one looks up to Harry with such admiration.

"What's going on here?" you ask, unable to hide your amusement. Your voice startles both Harry and Sammy, and they turn to face you, their faces lighting up with love and happiness.

"Mama!" Sammy squeals, his baby voice barely forming words, but the excitement in his voice is unmistakable. He holds up his tiny hands, fingers splayed wide, as if mimicking his dad's intense workout. “wike, dada!”

Harry, a grin stretching across his face, glances your way but doesn't stop running. "Hey, m”love. Sammy wanted to join m’on the treadmill, so we're having a little running session together."

You chuckle, admiring the dedication Harry has to his workout routine. "Looks like our angel is eager to keep up with you."

Harry nods, his eyes gleaming with pride. "He's got the spirit of an athlete, that's f’sure. And besides, it's good f’both of us to stay active, right, Sammy?"

Sammy babbles in agreement, clapping his hands as if understanding every word. He tries to match Harry's pace from where he’s running on the floor, his tiny legs working double time as the speed of the treadmill Harry’s on increases in speed slightly.. But the treadmill's speed proves too fast for him, and he stumbles, landing on his diaper-padded bottom with a soft thud.

Harry immediately stops the treadmill, not liking the fact his son fell over and steps off of the machine and reaches out to scoop him up.

“Careful, buddy," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to Sammy's forehead. "You’ve got to slow down, we don’t want you getting an ouchie do we?."

Sammy giggles, hugging his dad tightly, his eyes sparkling with joy. You join them, enveloping both Harry and Sammy in a warm embrace, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for your little family.

Another time that you realised that Sammy was like his father in both appearance and personality, was when he was when the three of you were on a family holiday to Italy.

After a chilled day of just sitting around the pool, catching some rays, the three of you retired to the bedroom at around half four, seeing as you had dinner reservations in the old town for half six. For a nice family meal.

Over the course of the holiday, which you were only four days into, you noticed that your fiancé was starting to complain about the stubble resting on his face.

Harry’s stubble was starting to get to him in the heat, making him always have an itchy face, and when the three of you were chilling in the main bedroom of the villa, he told you that he was going to go ahead and shave.

July 19th, 2020.

You sit on the plush bed in the stunning villa you and your fiancé Harry are staying in, overlooking the picturesque landscape of Italy. Sammy, your one-and-a-half-year-old son, is nestled against your chest, his eyes drooping with exhaustion after a day of splashing around in the pool with his doting father.

As the gentle breeze rustles the curtains, you gaze down at Sammy, his tiny hand gripping onto your shirt. His cheeks are flushed from the sun, and his little body radiates warmth against you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest indicates that he's slowly succumbing to sleep.

Just as Sammy is about to succumb to dream land, you notice Harry absentmindedly scratching his face. You raise an eyebrow, concern etching your features.

"What's the matter, baby?" you inquire, your voice soft and soothing.

Harry pauses, his eyes meeting yours. "I think it's time for a shave," he responds, his fingertips still grazing his stubbled chin.

Sammy, who seemed to be on the verge of slumber, stirs against you at the mention of shaving. His eyes flutter open, now wide with curiosity. "Shave?" he mumbles, his voice sleepy yet filled with intrigue.

Harry chuckles, turning his attention to his little boy. "Yes, buddy. Daddy needs to shave. It's like a special grown-up thing."

Sammy's eyes light up, his drowsiness momentarily forgotten. "Shave!" he exclaims, sitting up against your chest, his tiny hands reaching for Harry.

"Y’were falling asleep, mister. What're y’doing awake?" Harry says with a playful grin, kneeling down to be at Sammy's eye level.

Sammy giggles, his small voice carrying a sense of determination. "Be like you, daddy."

"All right, champ," Harry speaks, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll do it together. You can watch and maybe we'll pretend to shave your baby fuzz too."

Sammy's face lights up with sheer delight, a wide grin stretching across his tired features. He nuzzles into the safety of Harry's embrace, knowing that he is loved and cherished.

And so, with Sammy in his arms and love in his eyes, Harry leads the way to the bathroom, flicking in the light and you silently follow behind, wanting to see the memory as it was being made.

You stand against the door frame, observing the scene unfolding before you with an adoring smile. Harry carefully lifts Sammy onto the bathroom counter, ensuring he stands securely in front of him to prevent any mishaps. The soft lighting casts a warm glow, highlighting the bond between father and son.

Harry takes a shaving brush and begins to lather his face with thick shaving foam. Sammy's eyes widen with fascination as he watches the process, his little hands fidgeting with excitement.

"Dada, me shave too!" Sammy exclaims, his voice filled with an adorable mix of eagerness and innocence.

Harry's eyes crinkle with amusement, his love for his son shining through.

"Alright, buddy. We can make y’look like a little gentleman," he says, his voice infused with playful encouragement.

Harry reaches for a dollop of shaving foam and gently applies it to Sammy's tiny face. Sammy bursts into giggles as the cool foam tickles his skin, the sensation new and delightful.

You capture the precious moment with your camera, eager to immortalize the memory of father and son sharing this special experience. The sound of their laughter fills the room, a harmonious melody that warms your heart.

As Sammy giggles, his face adorned with the foam, Harry reaches into the drawer and retrieves a cotton bud. He holds it up for Sammy to see.

"Now, this is what y’need to use, little man," Harry explains, his voice gentle and reassuring. "You're t’young for a razor, but y’can pretend with this."

Sammy's eyes widen with wonder as he takes the cotton bud in his small hand, mimicking his father's movements. He touches the foam on his face, his laughter bubbling up once more.

You lean against the door frame, overcome with love and admiration for the beautiful connection unfolding before you. The trust and joy shared between Harry and Sammy create a bond that transcends words.

Harry then retrieves his razor and begins to carefully shave his own face. The rhythmic sound of the blade gliding across his skin fills the air, intermingling with their shared laughter. You capture every precious moment, preserving this extraordinary bond for eternity.

As you watch from the doorway, snapping pictures, you realize the depth of Sammy's admiration for his father. In his innocent eyes, Harry is a superhero, a role model worth emulating. And Harry, with his patient guidance and boundless love, shows Sammy the way.

Another time that you noticed the resemblance and fatherly bond between the two Styles boys was when Sammy was one years old and Harry was twenty five.

With much persuasion you had gone out for the evening with the girls, Harry insisting that you go out and have fun seeing as you hadn’t had a proper night out since Sammy was born.

Harry had been on a few nights out, and insisted that he have the night in with his mini me so you could have the night off and have so well deserved fun.

So, you dolled yourself up to the nines and hit the town with a few of your friends, you didn’t drink much seeding as you were still exclusively breastfeeding, towards the end of the night you ended up drinking a few mock tails.

When you walked into the bedroom that night, that was when you saw Sammy and Harry fast asleep in the super king bed, and like the twins that they were, were both lying in the exact same position.

Laying on their stomachs, one hand above their head, Harry had one hand holding onto his son's waist so he didn’t roll off of the bed, and Sammy had his free hand grasped onto his stuffed bunny teddy named ‘Eddie’ that was gifted to him by his Nana Anne.

September 14th, 2019.

After a long-awaited night out, you quietly enter your bedroom, the tiredness seeping through every inch of your being. Your heels are in your hand, and you clutch your chest, feeling the familiar ache as your breasts need to be pumped. The evening was a well-deserved break from the responsibilities of parenthood, but now you're ready to be back in your sanctuary.

As you step into the room, you're greeted by the heartwarming sight of Harry and your one-year-old son, both lying on their stomachs on the bed. Their arms are stretched above their heads, mirroring each other in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. Harry's hand rests protectively on Sammy's waist, ensuring he doesn't roll off the bed, while Sammy clings tightly to his beloved stuffed bunny teddy, "Eddie."

In that tender moment, you can't help but feel a surge of love and contentment. The exhaustion of the night fades away as you witness the undeniable bond between father and son. It's a sight that fills you with a profound sense of gratitude for the beautiful family you have created.

Reaching for your phone, you quietly snap a picture of the two of them, their peaceful expressions and shared embrace forever preserved in the frame. With a smirk on your face, you send the picture to the family group chat, knowing it will bring a smile to their faces.

But then, as you glance at the photo once more, you can't help but notice that Harry is wearing only his boxers, and Sammy is content in his diaper. A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you realize that their fashion choices are similar even when they snoozing.

In that moment, it hits you: the similarities between Harry and Sammy go far beyond physical appearances. Their quirks and habits, their shared moments of vulnerability and tenderness, all paint a picture of an unbreakable connection.

You tiptoe closer to Sammy's side of the bed, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Leaning down, you whisper softly, "I love you, my sweet boy," pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Sammy stirs slightly, but his peaceful sleep remains undisturbed.

Next, you turn your attention to Harry, his cheek invitingly close.

With a smile, you press your lips to his cheek, whispering, "I love you," the words laden with the depth of your emotions.

July 17th, 2023.

You snapped out of your daze, thinking about how similar the two loves of your lives were to see the two of them sitting on the sofa next to you.

You were sitting in the corner, blanket around your waist as you watched Sammy and Harry sit next to each other on the sofa, your fiancé had his arm wrapped around his son's shoulders, as the four year old munched on some crisps.

You grew Sammy for just over nine months, and it didn’t look like you had anything to do with it, since the way that Sammy came out looking appearance wise.

It seemed like Harry had a baby with himself.

Sammy adored his father, there was no doubt about it.

You could only hope that your next baby came out looking more like you, but the Styles had strong genes.

Anywho, you’d find out in seven months anyway.

[lilacmingi]

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem reader

Word count: 890

Note: It’s 4 AM and the need to write a soft imagine about playing with Seonghwa’s hair was too strong I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM THIS WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY

Seonghwa lied on his stomach, stretched across the expanse of his bed, his Nintendo Switch clutched between his hands as he played Animal Crossing, winding down after a long day of promotions. You sat beside him, watching as he moved his avatar across his camp, the miniature version of himself stopping to greet villagers and give them gifts to level up his friendships.

It was peaceful. You relished in moments like this where the both of you were completely silent, basking in each other’s presence while doing your own things, or doing nothing at all.

Your eyes drifted from the screen to the top of Seonghwa's head. He had recently grown his hair out and you were loving it. Since he had showered earlier that night it was flat and in it's natural state, the light from his desk lamp hitting the shiny brown strands and giving him a natural halo. The sight was tempting and had your fingers twitching in your lap.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reached forward and carded your fingers through his soft tresses, the silky strands feeling like ribbons between your fingers. Seonghwa visibly relaxed under your touch, a soft sigh leaving his pretty lips.

"That feels good." He murmured.

You chuckled softly, lifting a strand and twirling it around your index finger, watching the way it uncurled when you released it.

Does he know how beautiful he is? You wondered, taking a piece of his hair and separating it into three strands to braid.

Your fingers worked diligently while you watched Seonghwa's Animal Crossing character cast his fishing lure out into the ocean, waiting for the shadow of a fish to approach. Once the chunk of hair was fully braided you released it, running your fingers through it and separating the twisted pieces, combing your nails through his hair a few times to get all the strands back in order.

A gasp came from your boyfriend just a few seconds later making you jump slightly, momentarily concerned that you had hurt him.

"Babe, look! I caught a Mahi-Mahi! It’s my first time ever and this is one of the rare ones.” He showed you the screen, his tiny character presenting the fish proudly.

The way Seonghwa’s eyes glimmered with joy at his catch made your heart turn to mush. He may be a grown man in his mid-20s that can tear up the stage and put on a show-stopping performance, but at the end of the day he’s a gentle, kindhearted individual that finds happiness in things like playing Animal Crossing and assembling Star Wars Lego sets.

“Wow.” You marveled. “And this one’s rare you said?”

“Mhm.” He nodded excitedly. “Its worth a lot too so I think I’m gonna sell it. I need a few hundred more bells to buy this lamp I’ve been looking at for my house.”

“Can I see it?”

Seonghwa’s face lit up at your request. “Yes. Hang on just a second.”

You continued to run your fingers through his hair while he fiddled with the controls, going to the shop so he could show you the lamp he wanted so badly.

“Here it is. It’s chrome silver.”

You chuckled softly, finding his love for glossy chrome silver endearing.

“That’s right up your alley.”

“That’s why I have to have it.”

You continued playing with his long hair and watching him play Animal Crossing until his actions became slower and more sluggish. Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had been fighting sleep, the drowsiness brought on by your gentle ministrations. He could no longer force his eyes to stay open and exited out of his game, turning the Switch off, setting it aside on his nightstand before rolling onto his back and resting his head in your lap.

“Had enough Animal Crossing for the night?” You inquired, combing his bangs away from his face so you could look at his features.

He hummed in response. “You made me sleepy.”

“Oops.”

His eyes closed briefly, his dark lashes resting delicately on his cheeks. The pads of your fingers traced the side of his face making him crack a small smile, his eyes opening to look up at you.

“Sorry.” You apologized quietly. “You’re just so pretty.”

He fought back a shy grin, turning his head to compose himself and calm the butterflies that tickled his stomach. His gaze met yours once again and he was overwhelmed with a sense of adoration.

“Kiss?”

The one word request was simple and one you couldn’t possibly refuse. You started to lean down only for Seonghwa to raise himself up to meet you halfway, your lips meeting somewhere in the middle. Your eyelids slid closed upon contact, a warm feeling seeping into your chest at the sensation of Seonghwa’s plush lips moving against your own, their softness making your head spin. Your hand moved to hold the back of his head, fingers unconsciously sliding into his silky hair to grab a handful of it. He released a soft sigh into your mouth, parting ways and lowering himself back down to your lap. His hand moved up to cup your cheek, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.

“I love you.”

A gentle smile graced your features. “I love you too, Hwa.”

“Can you play with my hair again?”

“Of course.”

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[valkyriepirate]

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Christmas at Hogwarts

Summary:  Christmas has come and the students at Hogwarts have returned to their homes for the break. All except you, a Seventh Year Muggleborn staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re feeling quite lonely- that is, until your friend Newt Scamander finds you in the dining hall by the fire. Soon you realize that Christmas may be far more magical than you’d hoped. 

Warnings: Fluff overload. :)

Word count: 3.6k words 

A/N: I know I’m posting this fic wayyy after Christmas, but it’s always Newt Scamander season in my heart and I couldn’t resist. ;D

#5- Christmas at Hogwarts

The fire was your only company in all of Hogwarts that night.  

It blazed and crackled in the grate, warm and inviting as a dear friend. You scooted closer, shivering even underneath your thick coat. Your hands seemed incapable of warming up. No matter how close you held them to the fire, the warmth declined to accompany you for long. It was too painful a reminder of your family; like them, the heat pushed you away if you got too close, threatening to sear your skin. Yet too far and it felt like there was not a fire burning at all.  

You swallowed your respite. It was Christmas Eve, and Hogwarts was decorated beautifully- golden tinsel strung along the window frames, evergreen wreaths with large acorns and red bows adorning the doors, and even an enormous pine tree set up in the corner, clothed in a myriad of twinkling lights and shining ornaments. But the décor was just another reminder of how alone you were. Everyone in your House had returned home to loving families and abundant gifts for Christmas- all except you.  

You pulled your (Y/H) scarf tighter, rubbing your face with the soft cloth as you tried to thaw your freezing skin. You refused to let any tears fall. Yes, you were alone, but it was Christmas. There was solace in the good memories you had of years past, and no matter how desolate things seemed, you always felt that the magic in the air was stronger this time of year.  

You had taken to drawing miniature snowmen in the fireplace cinders with your wand when you felt it: something small and warm brushing against your leg. Startled, you looked to the side but saw nothing. Then the same sensation rubbed against your other leg. As you turned, a furry little creature poked its head out from underneath your coat. It looked like a fluffy platypus, with a pink bill, pale feet, and tiny curved claws.  

“Well hello, little fella,” you said, scooping the creature into your hands. It was incredibly soft. “Where did you come from?”

The creature purred as you stroked it tenderly, gazing up at you with shimmering black eyes. You laughed in delight as it scurried up your arm and snuggled between your scarf and your neck.

“Cold, are you?” You tucked in both ends of your scarf, creating a scooped blanket for the creature. “There. Is that better?”

It nuzzled into your neck and you laughed again as its fur tickled you. It was possible it escaped from one of the classrooms, but you didn’t feel the need to return it anywhere- at least, not for now. You felt the weight on your heart begin to lessen. Maybe you wouldn’t be so alone on Christmas Eve after all.  

“Teddy?”

You craned your head around at the familiar voice. You hadn’t heard anyone enter the main hall- in fact, you had been sure you were the only one left in the whole building. As you wondered who it could be, a boy with a swath of ruddy hair emerged from the hall.

“Teddy? Don’t be a scoundrel. I better not catch you stealing any-” The boy stopped when he saw you. “Oh. (Y/N). I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here either, Newt,” you said, a smile creeping up your face. The presence of your longtime friend was an even greater relief to your solemnity. “What are you doing here?”

He shifted, pulling at his bright yellow Hufflepuff scarf. “I-I came to find Teddy.”

“He’s with me,” you said, patting your scarf. “But I mean, why are you here- not at home with your family? It’s Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t speak for a long time. Eventually he said, “I... may have missed the last train.”

You gaped at him, a disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “You missed the last train? How?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes. It occurred to you that maybe he had been withheld from boarding for an unknown reason.  

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I guess it’s just nice not to be alone.” When he didn’t reply, you offered, “Want to sit with me?”

His eyebrows twitched up as if you’d given him an umbrella on a bleak rainy day. Newt was undoubtedly much different than the rest of your friends- he was so incredibly gentle and humble in a way that was rare to find in anyone else. He was always generous in his kindness, but the moment even the smallest kindness was offered him back, he was so unprepared that it almost made you want to laugh.  

He came and sat down a little ways away from you. You patted the floor next to you, beckoning him closer. “Come here. You’ll feel the fire better.”

It was impossible to tell if the redness on his cheeks was a blush or the glow of the fire. Slowly, he scooted to sit next to you.  

“He’s taken a liking to you,” he mumbled. “Teddy, I mean.”

“I think he’s taken more of a liking to my scarf. I can’t say I blame him.”

Newt smiled briefly, staring at the embers on the ground. “Nifflers may pride on materialism, but they know a pure heart when they see one.”

Something about the words warmed your insides. “Where did you find him anyway?” you asked.  

“You could say he’s a family pet.”

“Oh. Your mother keeps magical creatures, right?”

“She breeds Hippogriffs,” said Newt. “Some of the other creatures are...adopted family members.”

You gazed contentedly into the fire. “That sounds nice.”

Newt stole a glance at you, playing with the rim of his cloak. “If I may ask... why are you here, (Y/N)?”

It was your turn to run short of words. The truth was that you were a Muggleborn and your family vehemently disapproved of magic. Some of the professors at Hogwarts had hexed them for years into believing that you went to a boarding school like any other, but last year the truth got out. Your family ordered you to stop attending Hogwarts. When you refused, they said you could stay- so long as you didn’t return home.  

You still loved your family and missed them dearly. But you couldn’t deny the magic in your veins. You couldn’t leave Hogwarts behind, not when it had been your second home for so long. Not when it meant saying goodbye to the friends you had made.  

Instead of saying any of this, you gave Newt an encouraging smile and said, “I couldn’t make it home for the holidays.”

A comfortable silence passed between you two, broken only by the crack and snap of the logs in the fire. In that moment it seemed you had bonded in a way you never had before. There was something about being alone together on a holiday when you were meant to be with everyone that united your shivering hearts. You thought that if it had to be anyone here with you tonight on Christmas Eve, you were glad it was Newt Scamander.

“(Y/N)?” said Newt after a while.

“Yes?”

He seemed to be treading carefully. “How would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me?”

You blinked at him before breaking into a grin. “Do you really mean it?”

“Well, only if it’s something you’d like to do-”

You laid an excited hand on his knee. “That sounds wonderful. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Newt appeared so startled by your touch that he sat frozen in place as you jumped up and bounded down the hall. You stopped at the doors and turned back to face him. “Come on Newt, don’t be a slowpoke,” you said, a teasing tone sliding into your voice. Teddy the Niffler chittered in agreement.  

Blushing deeper, Newt pushed to his feet and followed you down the hall. “Don’t you turn against me now, Teddy.”

If it could have been possible for a Niffler to snicker, he would have. You laughed at the two of them. “Race you to the front gates!”

Newt didn’t have time to reply before you took off. Smiling to himself, he ran after you, the sounds of laughter and clicking soles on stone floors filling the lonely castle with a beautiful kind of music.  

******

The snow had been falling heavily since morning and was settled so thickly across the cobblestone pathway that you felt like you were walking on cotton candy. You were still panting and flushed with heat from your sprint throughout the castle, and the frigid air blowing your hair away from your face was more welcoming in that moment than any fire could have been. Your breaths came out like transparent white clouds as you turned around and triumphantly pumped your fists in the air. “I win!”

Newt, panting just as hard and clutching his side, nodded fervently. You wanted to giggle again at the sight of him- one pant leg rolled a bit higher than the other, his scarf tossed askew around his shoulders, his cloak hanging crookedly around his body. You had to resist an urge to ruffle his already messy hair, which was quickly becoming powdered white with snow.  

You peeked inside your scarf to check on the Niffler. “You alright in there, little buddy?”

The creature’s eyes were wide with exhilaration. He gave you a sweet kiss on the chin and you laughed as its ticklish fur caressed your skin.  

“He’d prefer to be carried all day if you let him,” Newt said, crunching across the snow to you. “Though I’d be careful. He tends to steal shiny things.”

“This little guy, a thief?” you scratched his soft belly. “That couldn’t be.”

“Have you lost anything?”

You playfully bumped him with your elbow. “Got nothing to lose. Come on, we’d better go before they douse the lanterns.”

The snow proved as deep and noncompliant as it looked from afar as you and Newt treaded along the path. Each of your steps sank down until the snow was nearly to your knees, making every few steps quite arduous work. Newt came up with the brilliant idea to magic the both of you a pair of snowshoes, and from then on the going was far easier.  

The two of you were chatting about your semesters, your midterm exams, and your plans after Hogwarts when you reached the hilltop that led down into Hogsmeade village. It looked like a Christmas town, with slanted rooftops layered with snow, light gray smoke trailing from chimneys, and sparkling green-and-red lights along the storefronts. You even spotted a few decorated Christmas trees in windows and in front of squat buildings.  

By then the cold had seeped back into your bones and left you shivering to your core. Newt, dressed similar to you, was clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Nothing in the world seemed more appealing right then than to huddle up in one of the Hogsmeade pubs next to a fireplace, preferably with a cup of something hot. But an idea had crept into your mind.  

“What’s that?” you gasped.  

Newt furrowed his brow, searching the scene below. “What?”

“That, down there.”

“The village?”

“No, to the left of it.”

You stepped backward as he stepped forward to see. “The forest?”

“Next to the forest.”

“I’m not sure I understand-”

Newt was cut off as a huge, crude snowball hit him clean in the back with a splat! He jumped, whirling around questioningly, one hand already on his wand. Then he saw your impish grin.  

“Does this mean war?” he asked rather timidly.  

You scooped up more snow and rolled it into a ball. “This means war.”

Newt dove as you aimed the next snowball at him. He gathered one and took aim at you, though his force was poor. The snowball came just short of your feet.  

“Afraid to hit a girl, Scamander?” you teased. “I’m sure Teddy could throw harder than that.”

“I’m only afraid it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,” he said as another of your artillery smacked him on the shoulder.  

“This should be an easy win then!”

The two of you ran down the hill, peppering each other with snowballs, dodging and rolling in the snow, the sound of your laughter sweetening the lonely night air. The ice was numbing your fingers and your sides were aching with exertion, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t had this kind of fun in a long time.  

You darted to a nearby tree to restock when a cluster of snow larger than your head exploded upon the side of your face. You looked up, mouth open, and stared in disbelief at the Hufflepuff.  

“Sorry!” Newt said quickly, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-I didn’t realize-”

He was cut off as you whipped out your wand and, grinning from ear to ear, lifted a mountain of snow into the air above his head. With a flick you let it drop, effectively drowning him from head to toe in a small avalanche.  

He burst from the little mountain, sputtering and shaking snow out of his eyes. “You cheated,” he gasped. “Magic.”

“Whoever said there were any rules?”

You granted him a moment to pull himself out of the snow and get back on his feet. He gave you a playfully hesitant look. In the next moment, his wand was in his hand and a fleet of snowballs were soaring towards you.  

You retaliated to match, sending torrents to meet him and diverting his attacks. He’d finally begun to give the competition you were looking for.  

You slipped as he used magic to shift the snow beneath your feet, seeing that he was rolling a snowball large enough to cloak the forest. While he was distracted, you caused a ball to hit him in the back of the head, impeding his focus. In one fell swoop, you made a gust of wind knock him to his knees and destroyed the giant snowball before it could approach you. You waved your wand vivaciously and tiny snowballs about the size of chocolate frogs ambushed him from all sides.  

Newt struggled beneath the attack, but he was unable to gather his wits in the firefight. At last he shouted, “You win! You win! I surrender!”

With a swish the ambush ceased. You strode toward him, tossing your scarf over your shoulder in victory. “I win for the second time tonight, Scamander. You’re off your game.”

Newt looked like he was trying not to smile. “Consider it Christmas spirit. I’m feeling gracious.”

You reached out and dusted some of the snow from his hair. “Perhaps. Or perhaps that’s just an excuse.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned quiet. You were suddenly aware of how close you two were.  

“Well, as the winner, I should get some kind of prize, don’t you think?” you said.  

He’d been staring at the ground, avoiding prolonged eye contact as he usually did, but now his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Yes. I suppose so.”

Your heart had begun to thump erratically and you weren’t exactly sure why. It cut through your puckish bravado, stilling your thoughts and making them run wild all at once. He was close enough that you could smell the comforting scent of the fire sunk into his cloak and see the remains of snow still stuck to his eyelashes.  

Newt wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. He was looking at your lips.  

He’s my friend, you thought. He had been for years. But if he was simply that, why were you suddenly feeling this way?

Your head leaned closer to him ever so infinitesimally. His did the same, as if compelled by some external power. Perhaps it was the magic in the air or even the spirit of Christmas, but you didn’t allow yourself to think about what you did next.  

You took him by the scarf and kissed him.  

You felt a flicker of surprise go through his body, and if you were being honest, you were surprised too. But in the next moment his stiffness melted away and he sank deeper into the kiss. One of his hands came up to cup your face ever so delicately as if you were a dream made of snow that would swirl away in an instant.  

It seemed that you two stood there for hours, yet once you pulled away it felt that less than seconds had passed. You and Newt appeared to be locked in place by each other’s gaze, breaths coming short in little white clouds. He was blushing so profoundly that his cheeks were almost as red as his hair. He took a shaky breath and leaned forward again, and you could sense the insatiable desire that had now awoken within him, how one kiss seemed to open doors to a million thoughts and longings the both of you had stored so deeply within that you hadn’t ever acknowledged it.  

Your lips had barely met for the second time when something furry barged its way in front of your face. Both you and Newt stumbled back, startled. Then you erupted into laughter.

“A jealous one, are you?” you snatched Teddy from where he’d run atop your head and poked him in the side. He warbled indignantly.  

Chuckling, you looked back up at Newt. A grin was plastered on his face that was so broad you truly believed it had the capacity to light a shooting star.  

You stepped closer to him and set Teddy on his shoulder, wrapping the Niffler up in Newt’s scarf. Your fingers lingered on his chest for a moment before you turned your eyes to the ground, feeling heat sweep your cheeks.  

“That was a pretty good reward,” you said bashfully.

“You should win more often,” mumbled Newt. You two would have probably stood there smiling at the ground like idiots for the rest of the night if Teddy hadn’t released a chirp of impatience.  

“He must be cold,” Newt bundled the Niffler underneath his cloak.  

“To the village?” you suggested.

“To the village,” he agreed.  

You two set off on the path you’d been on before, and even though it had to be nearly midnight by now, the moon and stars seemed to shine brighter, and the Christmas lights decorating Hogsmeade Village twinkled with greater joy. As you walked, you felt Newt’s hand brush yours. You slid your fingers into his and the connection sent pleasant shivers up your arm.  

You came upon a homely pub with a sign out front that read THREE BROOMSTICKS INN. Newt held the door open for you and the delicious scent of peppermint eggnog and baked frosted pastries wafted out to the street.  

Despite how quiet the street had been, the pub was bursting with customers, all huddled in groups or pairs, all sipping some heavenly hot beverage that warmed your stomach by its very smell. Deep-bellied laughter echoed off the wooden beams of the arched roof. A cozy fire crackled in the great hearth.  

You ordered two hot butterbeers and sat on the floor in front of the fire. Newt sat next to you, and as soon as he did Teddy scampered out of his scarf and into your lap.  

“Traitor,” Newt whispered, but his voice was so innocent it made you grin.  

The butterbeers came round and you wanted to bathe yourself in its warmth. As the two of you took blessedly long sips, you sighed and rested your head on Newt’s shoulder. Earlier tonight, you had been sitting and staring at a similar fire, thinking about how you’d be alone on Christmas Eve. And while all your friends and house mates would be surrounded by family tomorrow morning, opening their gifts, you knew that you had gotten the best gift of all.  

“Thank you, Newt,” you murmured.  

He blinked. “For what?”

“For being you,” you said. “For being here when no one else was.”

He was quiet for a long time. Eventually he said, “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Newt.”

The two of you sat by the fire so long that you had nearly drifted to sleep on his shoulder. The other customers were singing carols and clinking glasses, and in that moment, you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.  

The next thing you knew, Newt was gently nudging you awake. You looked up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, at a bundled, slim young man with a head of dark hair covered by a winter hat. Perhaps you were just incredibly sleepy, but he had a striking resemblance to Newt.

He knelt to get on your level. “What am I going to do with you, Newt?” He ruffled Newt’s hair. “Missed the train? Really?”

Newt just smiled. “You came back for me?”

“I can’t very well leave you here for Christmas, can I?” The young man turned his eyes to you. “I’m Theseus. Newt’s brother.”

“(Y/N),” you said.  

Theseus looked between you and Newt, a sly grin creeping up his face. “Would you like to come with us?” he asked.  

“Come with you? Where?”

“Home,” Theseus said simply.  

You glanced at Newt. He was staring at your lips again. He looked up to meet your eyes. “Please,” he said quietly.  

You thought you might melt into a frosty puddle right there on the floor. “I would love that. Very much.”  

“Alright then.” Theseus offered you a hand and pulled you to your feet. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Left in Hogwarts on Christmas. Just like my brother. Shall we?”

You slung your arm around Newt’s. “We shall.”

Masterlist

[breakingsanity-aruani]

one question I have been meaning to ask you is if your work is in any way based on the 1973 animated French film “Fantastic Planet”. Given that the film and your story share elements specifically tiny humans being kept as pets by larger humanoids, I am curious if you were aware of the film and taken inspiration from it

Hi again!! Thank you once more for your lovely questions ^^

Oh wow, I have actually never heard of Fantastic Planet before! I looked it up and... oh, I should check it out! From a short summary I read, I can see why you notice similarities! That said again, no I didn't know of this film! All of my inspirations for DBU came from AoT itself, and the elements of Tiny's, their abilities, culture, and how they are treated was from myself... so, perhaps I am a bit messed up, hahaha!

The idea of Titan's/humans in DBU keeping Tiny's like Armin as pets was an idea I came up with early on in writing. I thought long about how a world would be like if humans co-existed with miniature looking 'humans'. Would we as a society view them equally or as inferior? What temptations would the mind develop? It was honestly a thought provoking to ponder, but I also did not want to generalize the population of Titan's in DBU, so naturally, we see many humans who are truly kind to Tiny's, like Annie, Reiner, and Levi for example.

Though ofc, I also wanted to capture aspects of the horror that AoT itself does have, which is why there are many hostile and evil people who treat Tiny's as prey. To be used as toys, kept as pets... or... in classic AoT fashion, devoured. Yet, I also wanted to flip a notion of AoT on its head, where the Tiny's, the little miniature people, have the superior bodies! Extremely durable bodies to survive many situations, agelessness, heightened senses! These are aspects that the Titan's themselves from AoT have... so I thought it would be fun and interesting to give these traits to the MINI people in DBU!

(ofc other reasons are so that Annie and Armin can have fun moments together without a fear of Annie harming Armin due to him being so small. And there are other ways I provided conflict or tension with their relationship early on, such as Armin's lack of trust and trauma.)

.... Uh okay, hehe, I went on for longer than I anticipated BUT HEY! I get excited to talk about my work, and I love your questions so much!! So yes, while I did not have any inspiration from 'Fantastic Planet', I will surely check it out!! :3

Thank you as always for your wonderful questions, and I hope you are doing well x3

[acaaai-t]

resurface, my love

00. eyes on you

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: mentions of bombs, terrorists attacks, dead bodies, a tiny sprinkle of both fluff and angst, kissing scene, mild cursing

Where did it all start?

When did all this happen?

Why you?

…

Scaramouche is pretty.

Yet his prettiness doesn’t match up with his aggravating personality. It was no wonder why he was always seen alone by himself.

In a way, you pitied him. Maybe that’s what drove your 8 year old self to approach the lone boy.

Grasping your boxed lunch in your tiny hands, you hopped onto the available seat next to the purple hair boy and set your bento down. He gave you a weird look, but said nothing.

You clasped your hands together and muttered a quick thank you before opening your lunch, revealing a row of egg and ham sandwiches neatly tucked against each other.

You picked up a sandwich and offered it to him. “Want one?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t like ham,” he said.

“Where’s your lunch? Won’t you be hungry?”

“I don’t bring lunch, and no, I won’t get hungry,” he grumbled, annoyed by your questions.

You rolled your eyes and stuffed a bite of the sandwich into your mouth. “Whatever,” you muttered.

The next day, you brought in two separate lunches, each wrapped up in a different color cloth— one in royal purple, one in a sage green. When lunchtime finally came around, you immediately set out to find Scaramouche.

It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the grumpy little boy hiding up on a tree secluded from others.

“Hey!” you shouted, waving to the small figure sitting on the tree.

No reply.

“Hey I brought you lunch!” you tried again, yet it was as if he was purposefully ignoring your presence.

“Oh whatever, I’ll just leave it here,” you said, setting down the purple bento by the base of the tree. “Just make sure to return the lunchbox to me by the end of the day.”

And with that, you ran off, nearly tripping over the sticks that litter the grass.

Scaramouche kept his eyes trained on your figure as you run off, all until you disappear under the blinding sunlight. It was only then did he slowly climbed down from the tree to retrieve the lunch you left him.

He hesitated. Nobody had ever treated him this nicely before, there must be a catch to this. There’s always a catch. His grip on the lunchbox tightened.

It would be a pity to let the food go to waste, but what if it’s all a trap? he stood there, his thoughts running wild. His self-consciousness— and his stomach, called for him to accept the food, yet another part of him screamed for him to throw it away.

In the end he gave in and took a seat under the shade of the tree, the cloth already unwrapped and folded neatly to the side. A slip of paper sat upon the bento— a note from you.

“HI. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I did put some of my favorites in there. Enjoy your lunch :D”

He set the note aside and opened his lunch. His heart skipped a beat and his face flushed a light shade of pink.

You had made him a bento lunch art. Never in his life did he ever received something like this. It was so childish and so embarrassing.

It was a bunch of miniature rice pandas scattered about with egg rolls acting as flowers. Diced strawberries drizzled with dark chocolate sit in a small plastic container in the corner. There were tiny sausages sculpted in the shape of a octopus right next to the pandas. Sliced cucumbers laid aptly to the side, paired with two cherry tomatoes cut in half.

He nearly teared up. Despite how the art looked like it was made not by your parents but by yourself, he realized that nobody had ever put so much effort into him before.

He almost didn’t want to ruin it.

When classes had finally end, you skipped back to your seat with your friends still chattering as they followed. There sitting on your desk was your other bento box, neatly wrapped in the royal purple cloth. Laying on top of the bento was a folded piece of paper. You picked up the note.

A small thanks was hastily scribbled on with terrible handwriting. You smiled.

From then on it became a routine.

Everyday you would come in to school with an extra lunchbox to give to him, and everyday after school he would return the empty lunchbox back to you. Sometimes you’ll find a snack with a note, sometimes it’ll be a keychain.

Scaramouche never approached you directly to give his thanks, but you felt that an empty lunchbox and his small gifts was already more than enough.

This habit continued all the way through elementary and into your last year of high school. By then your collection of keychains had significantly grew. From a cat keychain to a air conditioner keychain— whatever it may be, there’s a chance that Scaramouche had gifted it to you already.

“Yoi look at what he gave me this time,” you giggled, dangling a badly drawn George Washington keychain in your hands.

Yoimiya stared at the keyring, dumbfounded. “That… how did he even find that? No, where did he even find that?”

You laughed. “He has his ways.”

Fire. Screams.

The sound of the late bell echoed through halls. You found yourself running around different classrooms, searching for Scaramouche.

“Where did Scara go?” you muttered angrily.

“Oh Scaramouche? He left early today,” your seatmate, Lumine, said.

“Already? He hasn’t given me my lunchbox yet…”

…

Where did your title as a hero come from?

“Hurry this way!” your voice hushed, urgency laced within.

Another explosion rocked the entire building, and you stumbled, just barely catching yourself. Your felt the grip on your hand slackened. Fear took a hold of your heart when your hand closed around nothing but the ashy air.

Immediately you turned back, adrenaline coursing through you as you search amongst the rubble and corpses. A faint glint of a jewelry caught your eyes. Nearly tripping over yourself, you scrambled over, taking a hold of the little girls hand once again before running for the exit. You didn’t dare look back, for you knew what awaits you. The walls collapsing one after another as the roaring flames blazes through.

A fiery death.

Shredded newspaper littered your room. Remnants of articles lay in the corner of your room in a pile of ash. Angry slashes marked the walls. Clothes a-strewn, curtain torn apart— the window shattered and boarded up. Noises of a news report filled the silence of your room, its voices blurring into static.

It mimicked your feelings.

A torrent of unquelled fury, one that screamed, raged.

A terrorist attack.

That was what the media called it. It was still unsure who was behind this attack despite the many claims as to who had done it. Proofs in form of photographs or surveillance videos of said suspect were all either too blurry to fully depict or it was just really badly edited.

During the attack, you had stayed behind while the bombs shook the building and the fire raged. And you ran, covered in ash and debris, carrying a unconscious girl in all the while leading a group of survivors— all the way until the promise of a safe haven was in sight.

Perhaps that rescue was what gave you the title as a hero, although for you— you didn’t deserve all that fame and glory.

In fact you hated it.

It was the media’s fault.

They had painted you as a hero, yet they had washed Scaramouche as the one that was behind the attacks. It was because of them that the public now flamed him as a villain.

They had painted an innocent bystander in red all because they needed a scapegoat, someone to shift the blame to because the police couldn’t do their damn job properly.

Had you known this would’ve been the outcome, you would’ve never cared for the lives still ghosting the halls.

Had you known, you would’ve just let them burn.

“Eye witnesses claimed that it was this… boy, who had done such atrocious acts. Any word on it, Ma—”

Click.

“It was terrifying… the look in his eyes. It.. was murderous, like he wanted everyone to burn. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve have been able to escape…” her voice broke off into a sob. You switched the channel again.

“WANTED ALIVE—”

You threw the remote control at the television in a fit of rage, the screen immediately going blank. You didn’t care. It only adds on to your canvas of unfolding bitterness.

Your phone rang again. A string of calls and messages you chose to ignore. It’d been days since you’ve stepped out from your house, let alone answer any of the calls and messages.

A loud abrupt knock to your door jolt you out from your trance. You draped a light blanket over yourself and went to answer the door.

There standing in all his former and glory, was none other than Scaramouche himself.

Your breath hitched and the blanket slipped.

“Hey idiot,” he smiled, something he claimed to reserve only for you. “Mind letting me in?”

…

You pushed the piles of dirty dishes from the counter into the sink, not caring whether it breaks or not. The once quiet house was filled with the noises of dishes clanking against each other and Scaramouche— who was rummaging through the pile of buildup items.

“Quite the mess you’ve got,” he muses, holding up a piece of a broken mug.

“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick,” you said, filling up a tea kettle with water.

“Hiding,” he simply replied.

“You didn’t attack the school, so why would you take the blame for it?” you slammed the kettle down onto the stovetop.

Scaramouche shrugged and plopped down on your couch.

“Now everyone is after you,” you continued, turning to face him. “And they even expect me to find you and bring you to the police.”

“They can’t find me, they won’t be able to,” Scaramouche said. “I’d say I’ve been hiding pretty well for these past few days.”

“And you didn’t even tell me? I was worried sick—” your voice broke off, hot tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

Scaramouche could only sigh as he got off the couch. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his body leaning against yours. “I’m sorry,” he said, resting his chin on your head.

A tear slipped.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled.

You broke, pushing your full weight against Scaramouche as sobs racked through your body. He brought a hand up to your head, gently tussling through your hair— the only source of comfort he could bring for now.

Why me?

Why him?

“I hate you,” you said, your fists weakly hitting his chest. “I hate you so much…”

He swiped a tear away. It was futile. The storm had already begun. “Hey…”

You sniffed, wiping the tears off your face.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You looked up, his purple eyes meeting yours. His thumb brushed against your lips, his face impossibly close to you. You could see every angle of his face, all the flawless imperfections he tries to hide. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“May I?”

All it took was a small nod from you for him to capture your lips in a kiss. A slow passionate kiss. Time slowed down. You felt the blood rush up to your head, your heart pounding against your chest.

His lips was soft, you noted, and slightly tasted like chocolate— could it be from the chapstick you gifted him before? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was only you and him and that was enough. You closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, lacing your arms around his neck.

It was electrifying— your back arching against the counter and him pressed on top of you.

It felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

He was the first to break the kiss. You already missed the taste of his lips against yours.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. I promise,” he murmured.

In the kitchen, just two to-be graduates, confessing their unspoken feelings not through words, but with their action. Feelings that amassed over the years, finally spilled.

“You promise?”

It was on that faithful night that your relationship with him blossomed into something more intimate.

“I promise.”

It was also on that faithful night that he left.

He’d disappeared, no words— he left nothing.

Not a single trace.

You had foreseen this coming, yet you didn’t realize how much it hurts to have him gone. More often than not, you found yourself unconsciously making an extra bento box for him. More often than not, will you take out everything he had ever given you and stare at it for the hours to come.

The painful pang in your heart was a constant reminder that he’s gone.

He’s gone.

Perhaps his disappearance was what encouraged you to major in criminology and criminal justice after you graduated. It was your fuel of both determination and delusions.

Years passed by in a flash, and before you could even process everything that had happened, you found yourself with a position as a detective in Tenryo Detective Firm.

Yet even after all those years, you haven’t seen or heard from Scaramouche. The last time the two of you had ever interacted was when nearly four years ago, when he had promised you that he’ll be back. And even despite the fact that you’ve been waiting for his presence for year on end, your feelings for him never wavered. You still firmly held onto the promise he had made you, after all Scaramouche is a man that never goes back on his words.

Even if you had to keep waiting. But that’s okay— you’re patient.

“Hey hero, got anything?” Heizou asked, poking his head into your office.

You groaned— both at the stupid nickname and the frustration building up. “Heizou stop with that ugly name, and no, haven’t gotten anything yet. I swear, I’m going to bash my head into the wall.”

“Ahah, I don’t think Sara would like that our hero tries to kill herself. Besides, I’ve got good news. You just got a small tip about the case you’re working on.”

You immediately sat upright in your chair. “What?! When? How come I was just informed of this?”

“The tip just came in, come on, Sara’s telling you to check it out it,” Heizou said, disappearing as he turned away.

You got up from your chair and flung your jacket over your shoulder. “Hold on wait for me! Heizou!”

Hero.

That nickname always brought up unpleasant memories.

Hero.

Solving cases, catching criminals, helping people. It’s what you’ve been doing ever since you graduated, long before the Tenryo Detective Firm took you in.

Could you even be considered a hero?

Gaining a position in this type of job was what allowed you to figure who the real arsonist was behind that attack. But even after the truth had come to light, it was by far, still too late. The damage had already been done, the paint cannot be washed away.

A light breeze from your office window blew at your orderly pile of documents, a couple pages fluttering to the side just as the door closed behind you with a loud slam, your voice screaming for Heizou quickly fading away.

It was silent in your office.

Two sparrows flew to perch on your windowsill, their loud chirps indefinitely breaking the silence. They weren’t staying for long before they flew off— perhaps something had spooked them.

A figure emerged out from the shadows. They scanned their surroundings around for any onlookers, and when they’d made sure that was nobody, they slowly approached your window. With quick and precise movements, they unlatched the window screen lock and slipped in unnoticed.

“I’m in, what now?”

“Get all the documents regarding him.”

“On it.”

They moved with ease, gliding around as they searched through shelves, drawers, anywhere for the required documents. A locked drawer in the corner of your office caught their eyes, and it wasn’t long before the lock was popped off— revealing the stack of documents you’d classified as “IMPORTANT.”

A quick sift through the papers confirmed his needs. “Think I may have found it.”

“Good, did you gather information regarding her too?”

“Hold on, let me check… yeah I think I’ve got that too.”

“Okay, now get out of there. She’s coming back.”

“One moment…”

They carefully stored the documents into their bag and began fiddling with the lock before latching it back onto the drawer. To avoid arousing any suspicion, they had also arranged the room to the way it was exactly how it was before. Books were pushed back into the shelves, the documents on your desk were neatly stacked, thick folders filled with random case documents were inserted back into their original drawers.

Your voice traveling down alerted them. Giving the office one last look, they opened the window and hastily jumped out.

A tiny pin with their insignia fell onto the floor with a quiet clink.

The window dropped shut just as you pushed open the door with Heizou trailing right behind you.

“What kind of tip was that?” you exclaimed. “That was a utter waste of time.”

Heizou shook his head and sighed. “Twisted sense of humor, hate them.”

You plopped down on your chair and spun around. “Riddle this, riddle that. Now I have to stay up to decipher that stupid code. If it’s some dumb message like, ‘I like ice-cream,’ I’m gonna strangle someone.”

“I’ll just leave it on your desk,” Heizou hummed. “I have another case I need to catch. Heard they’ve got a new lead.”

“Finally a new lead for you,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s been weeks.”

“I better come back with a closed case.”

“Come back?” you echoed. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, they found the new lead in the city of Watasumi, so they’re asking me to travel there to further investigate it,” he replied. “I’m going to pack my bags, see you next week!”

“Have fun! Don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to,” Heizou grinned. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You reached for the small slip of paper Heizou had left on the corner of your desk. Scribbled on it was a string of random code. By no means was this discovery unfamiliar to you. Throughout your career, you’ve dealt with far too many undeciphered codes. And you’ve managed to break through it each time.

This looks easy.

You turned on your monitor and set to work immediately.

When the sun had dipped far below the horizon, when the glow of the moonlight shone into your office— you were still clacking away on your computer, muttering nonsense to yourself as you racked your brain trying to break the code.

The clocked ticked on.

“If delta means this… then hexa should be this… oh shit that’s what it means? Wouldn’t that also change the way hexa is translated? Oh my god… do I really need that again?… fuck I do.”

Groaning loudly, you pushed your chair over to where your locked cabinet is. Your keys clinked against each other as you pushed a small silver key into the lock hole— where all your important files were supposed to be stored.

All the files regarding the disappearance of Scaramouche— and all the documents you’ve written about the various code you’ve solved.

Gone.

Where the fuck did it go?

You stood up, panic prickling at you.

“I didn’t misplaced it right?” you muttered to yourself.

So you searched. Every shelf, every corner, every nook and cranny. You took out folders packed full of other documents and sorted through each one individually, yet even after all the endeavor put into it, you just couldn’t find it.

Dawn was quickly approaching.

You sat back down on your chair— sinking into the plush and took in slow deep breaths in an effort to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Maybe a co-worker took it. But they couldn’t had the keys to it…

You blanked out, lost in your thoughts. A sudden minor detail caught your eyes. You frowned.

When did I close the window?

You got up from your chair, only then a sudden flash of red on your monitor screen recaptured your attention. You sat back down and turned to face the screen, but it seemingly returned back to normal… no, something was wrong.

Your contents had changed, for a canvas of white had replaced the endless amount of tabs you’d opened beforehand. Slowly, words began to format, each letter slowly appearing.

The first rays of the morning sun peeked through your window, consuming the shadows of your office. It was quiet, the only source of sound being your quickened breathing.

Your stomach dropped. You stared at the screen, the cold grasp of fear slowly worming its way into your heart.

It’s over, the eyes watches— it knows.

The clock stopped ticking. The slip of paper on your desk, long forgotten.

series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— this chapter was meant to be a quick run through from the beginning of you and Scara’s relationship to the “end.” hopefully this hero x villain dynamic makes sense lol 🙏 (the ending kinda sucked ngl)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy

[xelasrecords]

Have Yourself a Lonely Little Christmas

Han Jumin & Kim Jihyun

Jumin is disappointed that V is late to RFA’s Christmas party. Still, he waits up for him.

(Aka Santa V speedrunning Jumin’s disappointment.)

A/N: It’s almost Christmas and I’m super sad. Love that my sadness is so productive.

Words: 2.4k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Jumin tapped his fingers around the mug of mulled wine, its warmth seeping into his palms. V said he would come to the Christmas party, but it was approaching midnight. Everyone was already fast asleep in Jumin’s guest rooms and V had yet to prove his existence.

It was tough to keep his hopes up for a friend whose favourite activity was to let him down. V could very well be breaking yet another promise. Jumin’s stomach curdled. Loving V was exhausting work where he tended to receive less than he gave.

Still, Jumin never stopped trying. It would yield a favourable outcome if he could just perfect his methods. Someday, V would realise he could lean on him, that Jumin was his friend and he would try his best not to cause Jumin any more pain.

Someday, V would care more.

With the mug in his hand, Jumin went over to the fairy lights that Zen and Luciel had strung around the Christmas tree, almost stumbling over a miniature train. He grazed the tiny light bulbs, yellow glow twinkling on his face, and suppressed the urge to plunge the room into darkness. Jumin was used to his living room unlit in the evening; it subdued the loneliness that hung around him like a ghost.

The others would be disappointed too if he cut short the spirit of Christmas for his comfort, and he didn’t fancy dealing with their complaints in the morning.

Jumin’s head perked up when he heard a shuffling behind the front door. Was it V? Had he come bearing gifts or another coal of bad news? Jumin felt a flush of pride at his ability to apply Christmas colloquialism to his thoughts. Yoosung’s effort in teaching him wasn’t wasted.

The door creaked open and a tall, gaunt silhouette stepped in with much caution. No bodyguard was accompanying him, so it could only mean one thing. Jumin’s shoulders dropped in relief and he assumed a very casual stride towards V.

“You’re late. The party is over.” Jumin crossed his arms.

V pulled down his scarf, huffing, and Jumin had to restrain himself from reacting to V’s sallow cheeks and sunken eyes. V was like a skittish cat; one wrong move would send him running. “I know, I’m sorry,” V said in a hurry. “I needed to take care of a few things.”

“Nothing is more important than your health. You won’t achieve anything if you don’t balance your effort with adequate rest.” Jumin took his coat and offered him a cup of hot chocolate that he had made in case V came.

V took the cup eagerly and smiled. “I’m not the only one still up at this hour.”

“I wonder who’s the cause of it.” Jumin sighed. “You came bearing presents.” His gaze flicked to the shopping bags lining V’s arm. “You should put them underneath the tree, the members will be delighted to know that you remember.”

V teetered in his position. He was about to form another apology but changed his mind when Jumin closed his eyes and shook his head. “All right.” V knelt on the floor and arranged the presents around the tree with care. “I wrapped one for each of them. There’s also one for Elizabeth the Third. Would you record their reaction for me when they open them tomorrow?”

Jumin halted in his step, his brief imagination of his white cat majestically scratching open the wrapping paper ruined. “You’re not staying?”

“I’m sorry.”

Jumin craned his neck towards the ceiling. He was tired of apologies and even more tired of the self-imposed expectation that he had to forgive V. But he knew he would. He always did.

V didn’t mean to hurt him. He had tried his best. At least he was here now.

“Don’t taint the holiday spirit with negativity,” said Jumin.

“I thought you don’t partake in celebrating holidays?” V looked up at him. “According to you, they’re commercialised occasions to earn more profit. You repeat this statement every year.”

Jumin let out a bitter chuckle and took a seat beside V. “You have always known me best.”

“I’m glad you’re not alone this year.”

A weight dropped on Jumin’s chest. He observed his loneliness with detachment as if it couldn’t claim him if he put enough distance between them. “Am I?” he murmured. Only he was to blame if V couldn’t read his mind.

V nodded towards the hall where the guest rooms were. “You have them. They are a good company to keep.”

“I suppose they are, but they’re not you.”

V squeezed his shoulder, then stared up at the mismatched decorations on the tree. It had no theme because everyone wanted different things, and it didn’t bother Jumin as long as he got to put Elizabeth the Third mascot on top. Zen had fought him on it with the power of exaggerated sneezes, but it was either that or calling off the party.

It was easy to win when you were the host with all the bargaining power.

V had a serene smile pasted on his face. “Do you remember the Christmas parties my father used to throw when we were children?”

“It was so tedious that we used to hide in the attic until your father threatened to throw away your action figures.” Jumin sipped his mulled wine. It was getting cold. A shame.

“So you stowed them away in your pockets for me.” V laughed. “You were already wearing a suit and a tie even then.”

“I could never influence you to wear it too.”

“I like breathable fabric,” V said. “My house was stifling enough.”

Understandable. V’s father utilised oppressive techniques to keep the family in line. Jumin used to feel powerless that he couldn’t protect V from him. It was a good thing that V managed to get himself out of there. “You’re meant to be free and explore the world. I’m not familiar with that feeling, but I know this photography career is the right choice for you.”

V was oddly silent.

Jumin looked over to see him fiddling with a stray ribbon that fell off the garland, tearing one strand loose at a time. His heart constricted. He could tell V was weighed down by something he was not allowed to help carry the burden for.

“Are you happy?” Jumin asked.

V glanced through his mint hair, not quite looking at Jumin. “I’m all right.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I will be.” V collected the ribbon threads and set them aside. “Don’t worry about me too much. I just have some matters to settle, then I’ll be more active for the organisation.”

“I worry about you because you don’t reserve any for yourself. You haven’t been the same since Rika left—I know no one is, but you just... disappeared.” He looked down at the mug, itching to crush it with his fingers. “All of us are trying to keep this Christmas tradition alive. You don’t have to be here every day, but you should’ve upheld your duty as the RFA leader just for today. They needed you. I need you.”

Flickers of frustration nicked at Jumin. As with everything regarding V, Jumin’s feelings about him were complicated. He missed him, but it was often mixed with agitation and disappointment, yet he couldn’t let this connection go. He didn’t have anyone else. No one could understand him the way V did.

V took the mug out of his hands. Jumin didn’t notice they were trembling. “I’m here now.”

V didn’t get it, and it wrecked Jumin that he didn’t. He wanted his friend back, not a phantom masquerading in his stead. He wanted to laugh again, to commiserate about the olden times without agony stabbing at him because he couldn’t rewind the time. He wanted to relive the moments when V still walked Jumin through his bleakest days.

Jumin never banned him from living his life, he merely wished he was a part of it.

There must be something Jumin had done to deserve losing two friends when only one had died. He still got a dreadful, chilling sensation that spread through his body when he thought of Rika. Those he loved kept leaving him and he lacked the power to stop them.

Sometimes, he wondered if he should give in and follow them instead.

But he was responsible for Elizabeth the Third. He had to take care of her, and RFA wouldn’t function as well without him. All members played a pivotal role and Jumin was no exception. He was also the executive director of C&R and thousands of employees relied on him. His father would lose the one family member who actually cared about him.

He just couldn’t fail.

Jumin took a sharp inhale and handed V a present that Assistant Kang had helped him wrap. It was thanks to her that the edges were aligned to perfection. “You didn’t think I forgot your gift, did you?”

V lit up with a rare excitement that resembled one from his happier years. “Thank you, Jumin. I’ll open it later.”

“You can open it now.” He nudged with his elbow. It placated Jumin that V hadn’t lost his ability to be joyful.

V checked his watch and winced. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have a flight to catch.”

“But you just got here,” Jumin said in disbelief.

“I’m sorry. I really tried to arrive earlier.”

He should have tried harder, Jumin thought. But V’s eyes were downcast and his fingers were continually wringing themselves. He was anxious about something and it was likely to be significant.

Jumin shouldn’t hold V back from travelling to where he wanted to go. And if where he wanted to go during this holiday season was not where Jumin was, well, there was nothing he could do about it.

“I shall walk you out.” Jumin rose to his feet, his hand outstretched at V. He took it, and it shocked Jumin that V’s palm was scratched and more calloused than what was regarded as normal. “Did you hurt your hand?”

V jerked his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket. “Just a minor accident while taking a picture.”

Jumin didn’t believe him in the slightest, but he didn’t pry. “Please be careful.” He handed V his coat. “It’s not your time to die yet.”

“Are you a grim reaper now?” V’s voice took on a jesting tone.

Jumin wasn’t in the mood to humour him. “No one knows when death will come to find us, but right now is not yours. Now or the foreseeable future.”

“You tend to see too far ahead into the future.”

“Exactly,” Jumin said. “It’s my effort to preserve your life.”

They both lingered at the doorway. Barely 20 minutes had passed since V’s arrival. Before Rika’s death, the amount of time they allocated for talking didn’t affect how Jumin felt about V. Now even forever wouldn’t be enough to mend their splintering connection.

V was so far from him. Jumin couldn’t reach him anymore.

“Do you consider me your friend?” Jumin asked.

V’s teal eyes widened in surprise. “Why, of course. You’re my dearest friend in the world.”

Jumin clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “I���m always here when you need me. Keep that in mind.”

“I know.” V offered him a wan smile and clutched his gift tighter. “You are a much better friend than me.”

There was something in V’s voice that caused Jumin’s breath to catch. Somehow, it felt urgent to know that he would come back to him, that there would be a next time. This fear was irrational as all emotion-based actions were, but Jumin had to do something to keep V here. Something, anything. A last-ditch attempt to let V know he was wanted.

“Can you tell me when you will return? I’ll prepare a bottle of vintage wine for us to indulge in.” Jumin almost stumbled upon his words as he rushed them out.

“I can’t predict the future. I’m not the magician from your spellbook.” V chuckled, but it contained a sorrow that Jumin was sure he didn’t imagine hearing.

Jumin’s fists curled. “Just—come back. Don’t be gone for too long.” He had always waited for V, and they both knew he would wait forever. He could do that. Jumin was excellent in waiting. The misery from the sluggish passage of time was worth it so long as V remained alive.

After a blink of hesitation, V pulled Jumin into an embrace. His arms flew up around V and grabbed at the back of his coat, trying not to remember the times they used to hug farewell after their families had celebrated Christmas together. Those playful nudges beneath the poker face they donned, the pretences of being serious adults as they drank their grape juice, the secretive winks V threw at him in anticipation of sneaking off to the attic where no adults could fuss over them.

V felt incredibly brittle. He had shrunk so much in so little time. Many times they had hugged, yet they were never enough. Nothing could reassure Jumin that V was fine when the facts were presented to him like this. Even his denial had a limit.

“I really must leave now.” V stood back in the hallway, the harsh lights making him seem more pallid than Jumin remembered. “Happy Christmas, Jumin.”

It took all his strength not to say it back. If he could postpone his wishes, V would not leave. He could stay back for one more second. Two. Three.

It was a childish wish. Santa Claus was a product of fiction and nobody could grant Jumin even a moment longer with his closest friend.

V had to go. He was always someone with a place to be, and Jumin was always someone who was left behind.

V nodded with a resigned smile and turned around. He knew Jumin couldn’t reply, so he didn’t push. V had seen right through him. Even when their meetings were sparse and Jumin was convinced he was losing him, some feelings could stay unspoken and V could hear them without trying.

V entered the lift and the doors shut before him.

“Happy Christmas, V,” whispered Jumin.

-

Footnotes:

I find Jumin’s character sad because despite not being treated well by V, he still thinks the world of him. He puts their friendship on a pedestal while V just continues to whack at the said pedestal.

I’ve never written about Jumin and V’s canon friendship where it’s the focus because I always wanted to plop them into an AU where they’re happy and fine, but no more. Time to make them suffer.

These songs were on rotation as I wrote: I Look in People’s Windows for the lonely winter vibe, Jolly Old St. Nicholas for the nostalgic vibe, and coney island especially the “disappointments close your eyes and it gets colder and colder” part.

[hearts-hunger]

sweet peach || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, you want special attention from Sam. He reminds you that all you have to do is ask.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Reader | Genres: fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Chapter Warnings: none, I think?

A/N: This is, like, Hollow To The Touch's fluffier sister fic. Idk why Sam conjures these angsty stories in me, but I sure do like writing them! I hope you like it too! ♡

“Look! Here it comes.”

You pointed to the model train that wove its way through swaths of flowers and low-hanging palms, a delighted smile on your face as it passed you by and chugged up to the miniature bridge suspended overhead. You followed it until it came back down to steam through a scale-model town complete with shops and a train station. 

“You sure do like that train, don’t you?”

You looked behind you and grinned at your boyfriend. “How could you guess?”

He chuckled, watching with you as the train continued to another part of the greenhouse. Sam had surprised you yesterday with a weekend getaway trip to the Biltmore, and you’d been telling him excitedly about the model train exhibit in the greenhouse since you’d gotten in the car.

“Isn’t it gorgeous in here?” you asked, looking at a display of lovely pink and orange orchids. 

He hummed in agreement. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the small sign in the display. “These are your special orchids, honey.”

You smiled, seeing that the sign read peach dendrobium orchid. Sam had called you ��peach” since your first date where you’d worn a soft pink dress, and the nickname had stuck.

“They are my special orchids, aren’t they?” you said happily. You glanced at the camera that rested against his chest, wondering if he’d offer to take a picture of you with the orchids, but he gave the flowers one last look and headed on to look at a different display.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you didn’t want to have to ask him to take your picture; you wanted him to do it because he wanted to do it.

Pushing the thought aside, you joined him at the model greenhouse.

“There’s us,” he said. He looked over your shoulder. “And I think your train’s coming back.”

You watched the little tunnel to your right until the train came through.

“That’s my dream job, I think,” you said.

He smiled. “What, model trains?”

“Yeah,” you said, following the train through the flowers to the next exhibit. “It would be so fun to build all this stuff and set the track up, don’t you think?”

“I think it would drive me crazy to set up all this little stuff,” he said, but he wasn’t unkind. “I’m glad you like it, though. We should get a model train for your Christmas village this year.”

You smiled up at him. “Could we?”

He shrugged. “Sure. You’ll just have to keep Josh from staging train robberies with all your little village people.”

You laughed and went to take his hand. Just as your fingers glanced his, though, he took his camera and snapped a few pictures of the greenhouse roof through a spray of palm fronds.

You swallowed another pang of hurt and put your hands in your dress pockets, following him as he continued down the brick path through the greenhouse that led out to the garden.

Sam wasn’t the most overtly lovey-dovey boyfriend, that much was just a fact. You’d known it going in, and you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. Most of the time, it wasn’t — you knew that he loved you, and he showed you as much as he told you. He was patient and kind and gentle with you all the time. He remembered little things you told him, things even you’d forgotten you’d mentioned to him. He was forever finding little ways to serve you, from carrying your bags to getting you coffee to everything in between, and he was the Olympic world champion of writing little love notes and leaving them where you’d be sure to find them throughout the day. He loved you, and there was no way you could ever doubt it.

But, as far as public displays of affection went, they just weren’t his thing. He preferred not to kiss in public, and hand-holding was usually met with a sort of willing indifference. He didn’t really think to take pictures of you when you were out and about, and you always had a tough time getting him to dance with you at parties. You’d learned to be okay without those things; besides, when you were home and you gave him even the slightest bit of prompting, he’d shower you with kisses and affectionate touches and spontaneous dance parties until you thought your heart would break.

But every once in a while, when you wanted it when you weren’t at home and you wanted him to start it, it would hurt. You guessed today was one of those days.

You trailed behind him out in the garden, watching the butterflies drift from flower to flower. In the shade of the long, vine-covered pergola a few paces away, a couple giggled and took a selfie as he kissed her cheek.

“Hey, peach.”

You tore your gaze away from the couple, trying to ignore the jealousy gnawing at you. “Yes?”

Sam beckoned you over, and your heart jumped for a moment; you practically skipped to his side and waited for him to take your hand or put his arm around your shoulder or something.

He nodded to the huge, wine-colored tulip amid a few pink ones. 

“Can you hold that purple one closer to the pink ones?” he asked, hunkering down and getting his camera ready.

Your heart dropped to your shoes, again. “Oh. Uh, sure.” 

You did as he said, holding the flower just so in order for him to get the perfect picture. Photography had become a hobby of his lately, especially with his fancy new film camera, and you usually enjoyed indulging his desire to get a very specific shot. Today, though, you felt embarrassed to be standing awkwardly, holding a flower for your boyfriend who didn’t even care about you.

You grimaced. That last thought had been uncharitable, and you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you couldn’t ignore the bitterness and hurt that was welling inside you with an alarming quickness.

“Perfect,” he said, grinning up at you. “Thanks, peach.”

You managed a tight smile. “You’re welcome, honey.”

Sam tried to engage you in conversation as you meandered through the garden, but you couldn’t quite muster up any enthusiasm for talking.

“It’s a great day for strolling through a garden, huh?”

“Mmh.”

“I’m glad I’m spending this beautiful sunny day with you.”

“Right.”

“I think we should buy the Biltmore and have a baby for every bedroom, what do you think?”

“Okay.” You registered what he’d said a second too late. “Wait, what?”

He gave you a slightly worried smile, cocking his head at you as if looking at you from a different angle would reveal something.

“You okay, peach?” he asked gently.

You wilted, knowing you were being rude. “Yes. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening.”

“That’s alright, honey.” He held the waist-high gate open for you as you walked to another part of the grounds. “We can go back to the hotel for a power nap or something. Or go do that wine tasting thing in the village if you’re tired of just walking around.”

“I don’t care what we do,” you said, and you smiled to soften it. “Really. I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

He frowned. “But it’s your vacation.” He ducked under a low-hanging willow branch. “You’re supposed to be the one calling the shots.”

You sighed. If that was true, Sam would be smothering you in kisses and telling every person you walked by how much he loved you and how beautiful you were.

“I hear you sighing, peach,” he said. He unfolded his map of the grounds and tried to figure out where you were. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to twenty-questions it out of you?”

“Not twenty questions,” you said, embarrassed.

“No?” He peered over the map and through the winding shrub garden. “Glad to hear it. So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Sometimes I just like sighing.” You sighed again to prove your point.

He laughed. “Okay.” He put his map away and looked back at you.

“Would you like to go to the azalea garden or the Italian garden?” he asked. “Or somewhere else, keeping in mind that I am perfectly happy to go anywhere you want?”

You felt a sharp sting of guilt at how petulant you’d been acting. Sam didn’t deserve for you to be moody, especially not on a trip he’d planned for you, and certainly not when he’d never set the expectations you were upset with him for not meeting.

“I’d like to go to the Italian gardens,” you said meekly. “Please.”

He smiled and gave a grand, theatrical gesture to his left. “Right this way, my lady.”

You walked close to each other as you set a leisurely pace for the Italian garden, and you twisted your fingers together to keep from reaching out and taking his hand. You didn't think he wouldn’t mind if you did, but you didn't like to want things from him that he didn't want from you. You twisted the worn pearl ring he’d gotten you at an antique store forever ago around and around on your finger.

You came through the opening in the hedgerow to the long stretch of ponds lush with water lilies. Little statues were interspersed between the ponds, and you took your time wandering around to see the flowers and the koi fish that swam among their roots.

When you came near to the house, Sam stopped at a statue of a woman and a child dancing with flowers in their hair. The woman was nude from the waist up, one hand extended upwards in her dance, the other holding on to the child’s hand.

“It’s called ‘The Dancing Lesson’,” Sam told you. “Very ‘Flower Power’, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m sure your song is what the artist had in mind.”

He smiled, pleased he’d amused you with his joke. He raised his camera and took his time getting the picture he wanted.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, and your heart twisted with foolish jealousy. When he reached out to touch the statue, you turned and walked up the steps to the library terrace a few feet away.

“Peach, wait!”

You ignored him. You didn’t want to turn back and see him touching the statue and taking pictures of it and saying how beautiful it was. You didn’t want to feel jealous over a stupid statue, of all things.

“Peach, honey, hold on.”

Sam caught up to you and took your wrist in a gentle grip to make you stop. You felt a full-body shiver of delight at his touch that only made you feel worse.

“Let go,” you said, pulling out of his grip. He released you without protest.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you,” he said, thinking he’d upset you with his touch instead of his lack of it. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.��

Neither of you said anything for a moment. You started to twist your ring uncomfortably again.

“What’s going on, honey?” he asked. “Are you sick?”

You shook your head.

“Okay,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

Again, you shook your head. It seemed like he was having to do twenty-questions with you after all, but you hated to tell him what had gotten you so upset when it wasn’t really his fault.

He started to say something else, but a tour group came out of the double doors that led from the library out to the shaded terrace. He gently steered you out of their way and found a bench in the far corner, pulling you to sit with him.

“Let’s just sit here a minute and cool off, okay?” he said. 

You nodded. 

“And when you’re ready,” he said, “I’d really like for you to tell me what’s going on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Peach,” he said, gentle. “I don’t lie to you, so I don’t want you to lie to me. Alright?”

You nodded, but you didn’t say anything. He put his hand over yours after a moment, and you wished it hadn’t been a crisis that had drawn him to hold your hand.

“I want to fix it, honey,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I didn’t plan this trip so we could sit here and be upset with each other. Help me figure out how to get my sweet peach back to her usual chirpy self.”

You felt the sting of tears. “Your sweet peach?”

“You are, aren’t you?” He squeezed your hand. “Come on, my sweet peach. Tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

“I want you to hold my hand,” you said, almost in a whisper.

He held your hand tighter, the one he was already holding. “Okay. What else?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You knew he deserved the truth, and he was being so patient with you; you looked up and met his eyes even though you wanted to run and hide.

“I want you to hold my hand in the garden,” you said, and your voice was wobbly. “When we walk together. I want you to hold my hand.”

He nodded after a moment. “Okay. I will. Have you... have you wanted me to this whole time?”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and before you could reach up and try to hide it, Sam had touched his fingers to your cheek and brushed it away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said quietly. He tucked your hair behind your ear. “That makes me sad, peach. I wish you would have asked. You know I would have loved to hold your hand if you asked me to.”

“I know,” you said, and you hated yourself for how bitter you still felt. You raised his hand to your face; he splayed his fingers and cradled your cheek.

“So why didn’t you, honey?” he asked.

You met his eyes, desperate to make him understand.

 “I don’t want to make you do it if you don’t want to,” you said, the words spilling out of you now. “I always feel like I’m asking for things you don’t want to give, and then something like this happens and you say you’ll hold my hand and take pictures of me and whatever else I want, but isn’t it just because I asked you to do it and not because you want to do it?”

You stood, agitated and ashamed at your behavior. 

“I don’t ask because I don’t want to be needy and clingy, but...” You gave a helpless laugh and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I guess that ship has already sailed.”

He didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t bear the silence, and you walked over to the terrace railing and looked out over the mountains in the distance.

You heard him join you, and you let out a shaky breath when he brushed his thumb over the strap of your dress.

“I forgot to tell you how pretty you are in this dress,” he said. “I think you’re prettier than any of the flowers in the garden, peach.”

Your throat felt tight. “So why didn’t you take a picture of me?”

He sighed. “You know I’m not good at that kind of stuff, honey. It’s not that I don’t want to, it just... doesn’t occur to me. You have to ask.”

He tugged gently on a lock of your hair. “And I know you don’t want to have to ask. I understand that. But it doesn’t make you clingy to ask, and it doesn’t mean I don’t love you because I don’t think to do those things for you. I’m trying to be better about it, to be more... aware of it. But it’s not going to happen overnight, sweetheart.”

The guilt in his voice tore at you. You turned to face him.

“Do you have something you want to ask me?” he said, tender and sweet.

“Can you hold my hand?” you asked quietly.

A smile flickered across his face. “Of course I can.”

He took your hand in his and squeezed it gently. 

“Can I...” You wavered, even though he’d said you could ask. His smile was soft.

“Does my sweet peach want a... kiss?” he asked.

You blushed and gave a bashful nod.

“A kiss for my sweet peach, then,” he said, and gave you a gentle, chaste kiss. “See how easy it is? You don't ever have to worry that you're asking for something I won't give, honey. I promise.”

You leaned your head against his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t just ask, Sam. I'm sorry about... all of this. It’s not fair of me to expect you to read my mind.”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “But I understand why you were upset. Thank you for apologizing.”

You looked up at him. “Will you forgive me?”

“Already done.” He kissed your temple. “I promise to pay better attention and try my best to initiate more. You’ll just have to take it easy on me, okay?”

You cherished the way his touch lingered. “Okay.”

You walked together, hand in hand, back to the greenhouse and around to the azalea garden. The shrubs were in full bloom in every shade of pink, purple, and white, and birds flitted to and fro as they sang.

“Sam, look!”

Your voice was hushed as you walked carefully, quietly over to a bird’s nest in a cradle of pink flowers.

“Look how pretty they are,” you said, looking over the fragile little eggs inside.

“Peach.”

You looked over your shoulder at his voice, a smile on your face, and heard the camera shutter before you saw he was taking a picture.

“Sam,” you chided, bashful even though you were happy he’d done it.

“It’s a beautiful picture, honey,” he said. “Stay just like that.”

You did as he said, and you felt a rush of eager butterflies when he lowered the camera after he’d taken another picture. The way he was looking at you spoke more than any words, and you twined your fingers with his as you came close to him again.

“Sam?”

“Hm?”

“Will you give me a kiss?”

He grinned and did as you said, quick and sweet and gentle. “I like it when you ask me for what you want, peach. I always love to give it to you.”

You brushed his soft hair behind his ear. “I love you very much, Sam.”

He smiled, sunshine-soft and full of tenderness.

 “My sweet peach,” he said gently. “I love you very much too.”

sam taglist: @lil-twilight-glow @dannythedog

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf  @jakeydoesit  @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones  @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

[astridhoff03]

The Anniversary

Hiccup & Astrid celebrate the day they came Offical together and rember all the memories they have Made together.

"Hiccup, where are we going?" Astrid asked, laughing, her husband's warm hands over her eyes. “You’ll see, Honey. You'll like it," Hiccup whispers in her ear and immediately gave her a small kiss on the cheek, which made his wife giggle briefly. “Just a little bit more and we’ll be there.” He slowly took his hands away from her eyes and gently ran them over her arms. "Happy anniversary." Astrid put her hands over her mouth, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was so wonderful. In the middle of the cliff, surrounded by some fir trees hung with glowing lanterns, there was a table for two, full of delicious food. In the middle of all these delicacies stood a carved wooden statue of two dragons snuggled up close to each other and painted over with gold paint. Toothless and Stormfly. She carefully ran her fingers over the miniature of her beloved friends, a small tear rolled down her cheek. "Oh, Hiccup, it's wonderful, I love it." She ran into her husband's arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, lovingly stroking his beard with one hand. “Only the best for my wife and the Chieftess.” Astrid smiled and sheepishly pushed a long strand of her blonde hair out of her face. “May I please, M’Lady?” Hiccup grinned and pointed to the richly laid table whose glasses shimmered in the sunset like thousands of small diamonds. “And if you’re allowed to.” She interrupted her husband and the two of them sat down at the table. The two enjoyed the delicious food and watched the sun disappear behind the horizon with each passing minute. Small fireflies rose from the grass and, together with the silver glow of the crescent moon, illuminated the deep black night. The sky was an onyx-colored carpet dotted with thousands of stars. Hiccup cleared his throat and held out his hand to his wife. "May I ask for this dance?" Another broad smile appeared on Astrid's face as her husband hugged her tightly and the two began to dance slowly. A warm pinch slid through Astrid's braided hair as she leaned against Hiccup's chest. “You know, I missed that. For once, no children. No obligations. Just the two of us.” He placed his thumb under her chin and brought her face close to his. "Me too, Astrid."The next moment she felt his warm lips on hers, his hands moving from her waist to her hips. She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tighter. She wanted to feel him, very close to her. They deepened their kiss. With every touch he became more passionate and hungrier. Astrid felt the heat rising within her, the pure desire for physical closeness. For a brief moment the two separated from each other. Hiccup leaned his forehead against hers and smiled mischievously. “I think now it’s time for my present,” Astrid smiled. “I can’t wait,” Hiccup said softly. He didn't waste another moment and lifted her into his arms like a bride while Astrid caressed him with her lips. Without being able to think any further clearly, the two went into their house and up to their bedroom. Hiccup carefully laid Astrid down on the large bed and then leaned over her again to kiss her. "Are you ready?" "With you always," she whispered and brought his lips back to hers.

A little later the two found themselves snuggled up together under their blankets. Astrid's head rested on Hiccup's chest and she gently ran her fingertips over the runes on his bare chest that spelled her name. She smiled contentedly. "You have to admit my gift was just as good as yours." Hiccup lovingly stroked her shoulders, which he wrapped his arm around. "Especially because you've been giving this to me since our first anniversary." She laughed and leaned over him, the blanket sliding down a little from her chest and exposing a small part of her breasts. “You do the romantic thing and I’ll take care of everything after that. That‘s how its going every year.” His hand ran down her back, grazing her shoulder plate where the tattoo with his name was. “And it’s a treat every year,” he smiled, running his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. With these words, the two melted back into a deep kiss. “Do you remember the evening we finally got together?” Astrid asked. Hiccup smiled, his hand sliding down her back and resting on her hip. “How can I forget that. That was one of the most beautiful evenings of my life.” Astrid cuddled up to him again, her fingers glided over his torso, which was covered with scars, and caressed the fine contours of his abdominal muscles. "I can't believe it's been so long." He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "I feel the same way. I remember that day I was so afraid that Gothi wouldn't find a cure that would allow you to see again." "I was also afraid that I would be in the dark forever. That I could never look into your eyes again.” She paused for a moment and waited for his reaction. But he just stroked her hips, she sighed relaxed and just enjoyed his touch on her bare skin. “Do you remember the first flight on Toothless?” he asked with a mischievous grin. Astrid turned bright red with embarrassment. “Please don’t remind me of my fifteen year old self. I was horrible...and mean." "Oh come on, Astrid. You were just…own.” She laughed. “Oh, that’s what you call my angry outbursts back then. Unlike me, you were just cute. You still are now.” Hiccup had a hard time suppressing another grin. "I was really weird." "In a cute way," Astrid corrected him. He watched as she traced his scars until her gaze slid to his shoulder where he had the Strikeclass symbol as a tattoo, which again had a red tail fin, in memory of his best friend. With that thought, he took her arm and briefly glanced at the small tattoo of a Deadly Nadder who looked like his wife's beloved Stormfly. He kissed the little mark. “I miss our dragons,” he whispered, a sad tone in his voice. “I miss them too but…” “They’re safe and that’s the main thing,” he finished her sentence with a faint hint of a smile. In response, she snuggled closer to him. “You know, that somehow makes me think of our moonlight flight together when we set out to look for oil for your “secret project.” His eyes flashed back to that one very special evening on this deserted island. It was the first night they made love. Hiccup's hand crawled up her hip back to her waist. Their eyes met as he leaned over her again. "If you remind me of that night..." Astrid smiled in relief as their lips touched again and she snuggled into his embrace.

@ryupioupiou

[harper-sherman]

In honor of Robert Fuller's 90th (!!!) birthday today (July 29, 2023), I'm posting about meeting him last month at the MidSouth Nostalgia Festival. @sportstudfan put me up to this, lol. Hope y'all enjoy it!

The MidSouth Nostalgia Festival was held on June 8-10 in Olive Branch, Mississippi. That's just south of Memphis, Tennessee for anyone like me who had never heard of the place. The festival brought together a bunch of classic actors (and one or two contemporary), who mainly appeared in Westerns but from some other genres as well.

The first morning we were there, we got right in line to schedule a time to see Robert, or Bob as his fans call him. Most guests had tables that you could walk right up to, but such is his popularity that his fan club orchestrates time slots to make sure everyone who attends has time to speak with him and get autographs and photos. It was a pretty good system, I believe we waited less than 2 hours. We were able to get into his first group of the day. When Bob showed up, he walked right by the line and greeted everyone very enthusiastically and gave out hugs to some of the more eager fans. I could only smile as he went by because I was honestly starstruck by this point.

Once our turn came up, we probably got a good five minutes talking to him. I got the impression he would've allowed us to stay even longer, but we tried to be sensitive to the others waiting to see him. We discussed some of his stunts, such as jumping onto Hoot (his horse) in Duel at Alta Mesa. He confirmed that yes, that was actually him and not a stunt actor. He also told us about breaking his leg on Wagon Train. There was a stunt involving a breakaway chair and he wanted to re-shoot it, but he neglected to check the chair beforehand. It had been replaced with an actual chair! We also talked about his quick draw abilities, and he informed us he had been clocked at 28/100ths of a second. Talk about fast! Before we left his table, we got his autograph on a photo from his Emergency! days. If I ever get to meet Randy Mantooth, I plan to point out that Bob's signature went over his forehead, so he can give him Hell about it.

Something that really amused me watching Bob interact with his fans is how much attention he gives everyone. He was more than happy to hand out hugs and kissed many of the women in attendance. He even autographed a woman's chest (upper sternum, lol) so she could get it tattooed. Keep in mind most of the fans were middle-aged or elderly women, who had fallen in love with him during their youth. The guy's still got it!

We also attended a few panels. The photo below is from one of them; from left to right we have Tony Cameron (son of Rod Cameron, one of my favorite Laramie guest actors), Patrick Wayne (2nd son of John Wayne), the panel interviewer, and Bob. All of the guys were really enjoyable to listen to. Tony is dedicated to keeping his dad's legacy alive and is just a lovely person in his own right. Patrick was very funny and used his some of his time on the panel to advocate for the John Wayne Cancer Foundation.

There was also a panel with Bob and his wife Jennifer Savidge that I unfortunately did not take pictures of. Those two are great together, they had everyone laughing and you could really tell how much they love one another. Jennifer is also incredibly gracious about the attention Bob gets from his fans. She's a wonderful actress in her own right, having been on her own medical series St. Elsewhere, JAG, and much more.

The MSNF also had vendor tables where you could purchase comic books, memorabilia, or even original art. One woman rented a vendor table so she could share her miniature Sherman Ranch! She removed the roofs so we could see inside the ranch house and barn. She also told us she has swappable backgrounds for different times of year. We were really impressed with the detail and talent that went into her creation.

On the last day of the festival, we had a photo taken with Bob and Jennifer. We dressed up as Slim and Jess. The first thing Bob said to us was "Wow!", so I think he liked the outfits. ;) On the way out, a few other fans in line stopped us to tell us how much they liked our costumes, which felt really great.

And that was pretty much it! It was honestly one of the more laid-back conventions I've been to. I wasn't used to having a bunch of downtime between the things I wanted to do. It was also a little weird being one of the younger fans there, but everyone was pretty nice and we were all there for the same reason: to meet Bob!

Bonus pic: while in Memphis we visited the largest Bass Pro Shop I've ever seen, known as The Pyramid. The inside looks like outdoors (as is normal with every Bass Pro), but it was lit like nighttime with string lights and stuff. Along with the usual fish tanks, there was a pond with ducks. I unfortunately did not pay to ride the elevator to the observation deck.

[neptoons1998]

Stay with me Tonight

Summary: Margo needs a night to rest.

TW: Panic attack and Parents yelling at each other

A/N: Here's the first one. I might post the rest tomorrow.

Tag Gang: @mal-urameshi @somethingcleaverandwhitty @pantherheart

Margo couldn’t handle it. She was at her breaking point. Her parents were having another screaming match again. Normally she could tune it out whether that was playing her video games or helping lead the going home machine at the Spider Society.  She knew her home life wasn’t perfect. She would get sad looks from Jess, Gwen, and strangely enough Miguel. Even though his rough exterior he was soft and gooey to her. Especially when she lingers around the hive, praying that he wouldn’t ask why she doesn’t go home.   

But She couldn’t tonight. 

“THAT’S IT I’M DONE!” her mom screamed. Margo heard a vase breaking on the nearby wall.

“THE HELL YOU ARE!” her father’s voice boomed in the house. Margo could hear a shuffle between the pair. Margo’s chest tightens from the aggression between her parents. Margo felt dizzy as she reached for her watch. She needs to get out of here Margo thought as she pushed her button. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was going 42 universe.

 Margo lay in a fetal position the sharp raindrops touched her cheeks as she tried to calm herself. Get a grip, Margo! She thought as her chest continued to tighten.  A couple of minutes pass and Margo could breathe again. She looked around at the buildings that surround her. Where was she?

“Why are you here?” Miles said. Normally she could handle his rough around the edges. Right now she was barely holding herself together. She could feel the tears slowly starting to form and wanting to spill over her cheeks. Margo wanted to refuse them, she couldn’t look like a crybaby to the guy she liked. 

“Nevermind, I’m going home,“ Margo said simply quickly turning away from him. Before she could get too far away from him. Miles wrapped his hand around her wrist Margo turn to look at him.

“T-that came out wrong,” Miles groan to himself, “What I meant was-arg Let me do your hair.”

“My hair?” Margo repeated letting Miles lead the pair off the roof. Margo looked around skyscrapers reminding her of her own whenever she venture out of her room. 

 Miles nodded, “Yea, you look stressed, Cielito.”

“Okay,” Margo said. If anything she would’ve agreed to it anyway. She didn’t want to go home, at least for right now. 

I have a girl in my room, Miles thought. The teen tried to look unfazed by Margo looking around his room. She stood nearby some of the collectible figures he bought when he went to Comic-Con with his dad, before everything his life changed.  Miles inwardly screamed to himself why was he such a nerd. 

“Nice stuff,” Margo stated as she pointed at the miniature Gundam figure that was placed on his bookshelf.  Miles pulled out his combs and gel, he was trying to use his extra energy to place his products on his desk.  

“Thanks,” Miles said stiffly as he patted on the chair. Margo sat down in the chair, Margo could feel Miles’ fingers undoing her two flat twists. Margo couldn’t help but lend into Miles’ hands as he gently massage her scalp. 

“Are you ready to tell me why are you here?” Miles whispered out to her. Margo felt the slight tug of the comb.

“Parents were fighting again,” Margo said sheepishly, “I wanted to be out. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going until now.”

“No wonder why you had a confused look on your face,” Miles commented as Margo felt the edge of the comb parting her hair. The pair were silent for a while as Miles was consumed with his work. Margo was enjoying that someone else was doing her hair instead of it herself. 

“I’m glad I came to your universe,” Margo commented as she felt a smile tugging on her lips. Miles looked at her, and before she could figure out his emotion he pushed a mirror in her face, “Here what do you think?”

Margo gave a surprised  gasped, “This is great. I love it.”

“Stop lying,” Miles said rolling his eyes. Margo pulled up from the mirror as she touched his arm; causing the teen to feel butterflies in his stomach.

“No really. I love it,” Margo said earnestly, “Thanks.”

 Miles had to quickly look away from her before he did something stupid, “Yea no problem, Cielito.”

“Hmm,” Margo said contently before she looked at her watch, “I think they finally calm down, so I should probably leave.”

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” Miles replies. Oh my god shut up, me!

“What?” Margo questioned as she lends a bit closer to Miles, “No they would notice that I’m gone for too long. Thanks though.”

With that, she tapped on the watch to make a portal for her to go home. Miles bit his lip before he let words tumble out of his mouth, “If becomes too much again, Margo... You’re safe here.”

Margo could feel tears starting to form again, God when did I become such a crybaby? Before she went to the portal she placed a kiss on Miles’ cheek, “Thanks, Miles.”

When the portal closed, Miles lay on his bed shocked at what had happened in the span of a couple of hours between them, “She kissed me…”

Butterflies in his stomach fluttered once more.