sleeves past wrists

Newt Scamander x Reader-Chains

A/N- I wasn’t too well again, so I tried to pour my feelings into this piece. It’s short and probably kind of crappy, but it captures my emotions quite well. I love you all, and if you’re ever feeling down, I’m here

Warnings: implied depression and harm,  angsty and fluffy stuff too, if these themes trigger you, do not read, if you need someone to talk to, I will be here. *Hugs*

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Newt hardly recognized you anymore. Where your pleasant smile once proudly sat was a broken version of it, a twisted frown, locked in a permanent position. He reminisced on the days where you used to be so full of life, so lively and free, and he would give anything to see you like that again. He wished that there was a magic spell or potion he could concoct that would bring you joy, but he understood that such a thing did not exist, even with all the forces of magic combined. He knew in his heart that you didn’t want to be this way, you didn’t wish to be in this state. Your heart had been mangled with, your mind shaken, your persona faded. But you were still you. Inside was the girl you both knew, struggling to fight the chained cage of your past and to break free of its constraint.


You sat at the window of your shared flat, gazing out to the world below. Your hair lay swept across your face like a cloak while your baggy sweater sleeves sunk past your wrists, sending what lay beneath them into the back of your mind. Newt had tried to coax you away from the window various times before, yet you simply didn’t budge. It was as if you were rooted to the spot, stuck like you had nowhere to go, no dreams to chase after like children and fireflies on a summer evening. He knew you wanted space, but he also knew that you needed something else. What you wanted and needed were two different things.


He placed his coat on a chair and cautiously approached you, avoiding the thought of spooking you. “Love, would you like to come with me to feed the creatures, they miss you,” he started, “I miss you.”


With a small sigh you silently responded, “No thank you Newt, I’m sorry.”
Newt’s heart broke. You were suffering and he couldn’t fix you. He couldn’t save you from the monster lurking in your shadow. He couldn’t save you from yourself. He decided to try again.


“Darling, would you like some tea? I have your favorite.”


“It’s okay Newt, I don’t need it.”


“But love.”


“I’m fine Newt.”


He felt shards pierce his chest and tears sting his eyes. His darling, his love, his everything sat like a fragile doll in the toyshop down the street, trapped behind the pane of glass that was your pain, isolated from the outside world. A tear began to trickle down his reddened cheeks as he brushed a hand through his hair. With gentle strides, he got closer to you.


“Y/n, please let me in. I can help you, I know how you’re feeling, and I know the pace you’re in. Please sweetheart, please. I love you too much to see you constantly harming yourself. Please,” he spoke softly while crouching down to meet your eyes.


You looked at him, mirroring the hurt and pain you saw in him. You caused this. You made the only person who ever truly cared about you suffer and sink to your level of despair. You did this to yourself, and you did this to him. Your past haunted you, closing you off from him, making him watch you alone.


At these thoughts, you broke entirely. Your heart was heavy with the feeling of being a burden. Your mind was swollen with insecurities bouncing off one another. You felt so lost and hopeless and angry at yourself for pushing him away. You felt heartless, like you made everything about you and not him.


With soft whimpers and drenched eyes, you looked at Newt expecting a returned gaze of irritation. However, that was not present. He stretched out his arms to you, allowing you to collapse into him fully. Your body quaked from the rounds of sobs that possessed you, each one driving another knife in your heart. Tears clouded your vision and you sank into his embrace more.


By now Newt was crying too, for he wanted you to be okay, but he knew that it would take time. His love was sitting here, broken and destroyed inside, but he still picked up the pieces. His lips found their way to your head and he peppered you in sweet innocent kisses filled with nothing but love and comfort. He massaged his hand through your hair in an attempt to calm you down some more.


“It’s alright love, shh it’s alright, I’ve got you. You’re in safe hands alright love. I won’t let anyone hurt you, not even yourself. I’ll protect you. I’ll care for you. Please love,” he whispered as you clung tighter to his muscular form.


He had you face him so he could place kisses along your jawline, and on your cheeks. On your neck, and on your nose. Everywhere. He needed to make sure every bit of you got the love that you deserved. His arms stayed wrapped around you, securing you in his warmth. Your hot tears still ran down your face, but Newt brushed them away.


“It’s okay to cry love, I cry too. It’s not wrong, I want you to let it all out to me. I’m here Y/n. I’m here darling.”


Newt was the only thing you needed. You sniffled quietly and nuzzled back into him. You two remained on the floor with you protectively kept in his embrace of love, shielding you from any harm. He rubbed your arms with his large hands to calm you down, and to remind you that whatever harm you had done to yourself did not make you a monster. He applied more kisses all over you, loving and cherishing and worshipping every piece of you. To him, you were beautiful, an angel descending from above. You were still the beautiful person you had always been. You would always be that person, no matter what. You would always be the one who captured his heart and held it close to your own, synchronizing the beats as one.


He would do anything and everything to help you see yourself the way he saw you. You were far from broken, and you were his precious diamond, his treasured keepsake, his other half. Newt hugged you the rest of that day, enveloping you in love and care.


“I love you darling,” he spoke, “I always will. No matter what you think, you are none of those things. You are beautiful, you are kind, and you are lovely. I will never let you do this alone. You’ll always have me right here.”


He pressed another kiss to your forehead while you relaxed a little more.


“I love you Y/n. I love you my sweetheart.”

Masterlist:

http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/156427727241/masterlist-thing

clothes

guang-hong: 

- wears muted colors mostly, blues and grays. 
- when he wants to stand out, he wears red, which is his favorite color
- owns a red windbreaker, which he wore on his first date with leo 
- leo died a little inside and would not stop blushing (which is usually gh’s turf) 
- prefers long pants that bag around his ankles 
- owns maybe two pairs of beat-up converse
- loves winter because he can burrow inside scarves
- baggy sweatshirts are his jam. hoods. sleeves that reach past his wrists. 

leo: 

- to be honest, the earbuds are practically a part of his outfit at this point
- jeans, all the time. ripped and not ripped. 
- empathetically believes that black looks good with anything 
- zip up sweaters with the collars turned up 
- boots are a thing. the kind with buttons that are just for show 
- may or may not have tried to align his fashion sense with his music 
- yanks his hair back in a loose ponytail sometimes. 
- ears pierced, wears simple silver and gold studs sometimes

leoji: 

- killed each other multiple times just by looking cute
- stressed over clothes on the first date and called phichit
- (it was pretty funny; phichit had two convos open at the same time) 
- they’d totally do the team jacket swap trope 
- guang-hong likes to complain he’s cold a lot so he’ll get leo’s sweaters
- has about five of them in his closet at this point 
- leo has an idea of it but doesn’t mind, gh looks way better in them 

archiveofourown.org
Until The Flowers Bloom Again

Pairing: Jikook

The first colour Jeongguk notices is pink.

Brightly tinted strands falls across his forehead, flying in the wind and ending in a mess of overlapping knots that look soft to the touch. It’s so prominent in comparison to the muted colours around them, stark against the white of the sand and the navy of the ocean, and yet it fits so well, a cherry blossom falling from the sky.

The second is blue.

He’s drowning in an oversized azure sweater, the sleeves hanging past his wrists, his small thumbs catching on the material where he holds his shoes out in front of him. He’s tiny, shoulders hunched forward against the chill and face tilted towards the sky, the gentle slope of his nose catching on the light and glimmering in the sun.

He’s so reminiscent of the spring, Jeongguk aches.

Seriously, stop. I know what you’re doing. I know what you’re doing because I’ve been there.

You’re lying in your bed, it’s 1.14am and you’re playing that song on repeat. Is it the song that you had your first kiss to? Is it the one that was playing in his car when he first told you he loved you and you couldn’t tell the difference between the lies that laced his every word and the truth? Was it the song that you danced to and he put his delicate fingers on your waist and pressed his forehead to yours and you could have sworn that he meant forever?

Now it’s 2.37am and that picture’s crumpled between your fingers because you think that if you squeeze hard enough his smile will be ingrained on your skin. Is it the picture your friend took at that party when you were just strangers who found comfort in each other’s lips? Is it the picture your mum took when he showed up at your door with a corsage and a rose in his pocket? Or was it the picture that you don’t remember being taken, where you were just so oblivious to the rest of the world because you could find all the happiness you needed in his hazel gaze?

It’s 4.54am and you’re sitting on your window ledge remembering all the times you watched the sun rise and set with him, but instead of being wrapped up in his arms you’re now wrapped up in the one jumper he left behind. The sleeves fall past your wrists but you bury your neck into the collar because you believe you can still smell him. You wonder if he still wears the same aftershave. You wonder who wears his jumpers now.

You wonder and it’s killing you. So stop. Because, yes, it’s hard. It’s fucking terrifying to let go. But it’s 7am now and you have to get up and put a smile on your face because he left months ago and you can’t let people know that every single night you relive every memory of him and you replay every word he said and you wonder where you went wrong.

You didn’t go wrong. Sometimes people leave and it sucks and it hurts and they take a shard of your fragile heart with them but, eventually, you need to stop wondering.

—  Because you can bet he’s not wondering if you still wear the same perfume, 13/07/2015
Ever Heard of a Cute Drunk? (Carl Grimes One-shot)

Summary: Carl takes care of a drunk Y/n

Requested? Yes, anon.

Word count: 690

Prompts: 1, Is that my shirt? 10, I am not drunk 17, you’re too damn cute.

You stumbled up the stairs of your shared Alexandrian house in attempt to go for a lay down. You were on your way back from Jessie’s party where Ron and Mikey had racked some booze, Enid wasn’t present and Rick wouldn’t take his eyes of Carl so it was just the three of you risking the secret drink, or drinks. At best, or worst, you were tipsy, Mikey was pretty sober but Ron, well he was gonna get whipped tonight. Lost in thought you started to tip, you seemed to react differently due to the lack of food and water that had been consumed before Alexandria. You grabbed the hand railing to prevent yourself from falling down the stairs while your other hand reached for your forehead.

“Y/n!” Someone shouted from the bottom of the stairs when they witnessed your misfortune. You turned to see Carl rushing up the stairs.

“Hey! Fun party huh?”

He attempted to look serious but giggles forced their way through. “Are you drunk?”

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Blue Hair, Hazel Eyes

From this request: A soulmate AU with any of TFW, if possible make it about a bluehair!reader

*Sam-centric

**Soulmate!AU

______________________________________________________________

When a child is born, they are assigned a color.

No, I’m not talking about ‘pink for girls, blue for boys’.

Each person has a specific color that they receive upon their birth. This color is written on their birth certificate. Parents are then in charge of reminding their child of their color. Often times, a child’s first word is their color, rather than ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy’.

This color is one of the most important things in a person’s life.

This color is what determines who a person is going to marry.

And that’s where it gets tricky.

The child born is simply given the color—no indicator as to what that color will be tied to in the future. It could be eye color, hair color, shirt color, earring color, pencil color… anything.

The fates gave you a clue as to who you were supposed to end up with, but they didn’t tell you when or where that person would enter your life.

It was, however, more intense than just ‘green’ or ‘red’.

The colors that people were given went through every name in the crayon box. Arguments were had over whether something was ‘green-yellow’ or ‘yellow-green’.

Complicated? Yes.

But the universe is complicated.

______________________________________________________________

Hazel.

You glanced down at the tattoo on the inside of your wrist, your daily reminder of the color that would lead you to your soulmate.

Hazel.

‘What the fuck kind of color is hazel?’ you thought.

Scientifically speaking, it was a mix of browns and greens.

Actually speaking, it was a shit color, boring as all get out.

Your closest friends had colors like ‘royal purple’ and ‘forest green’.  As petty as it was, you were jealous of them. At least they had cool colors to look for.

Not only that, but you were nearing the tail-end of your group of friends who were still single. Macy had met her soulmate at age 15, Crissy found hers at freshmen transfer day at university, and Sandra had just met hers last week.

Yet here you were, single, with only the word ‘hazel’ to keep you company.

You were so stuck in your daily funk about your color that you didn’t even notice the tall man rounding the corner.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he said.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I was just… in my own head.”

“It’s often the place to be,” the man said with a smile.

You looked down at the ground where the man’s belongings had fallen. “Let me get these for you,” you said, bending down. You picked up the newspaper and the notebook. When you stood back up, you found the man staring at you with a strange look on his face.

“Here you go,” you said, handing his things back to him.

“Thanks.” The man’s gaze didn’t change. “I… I hate to be straightforward, but what color is your hair?”

You were surprised by the question. Your hand darted up to your locks, pulled back into a ponytail today. A few strands had been blown free by the wind—you no doubt looked like a mess. “It’s, um… electric blue.”

The man continued to stare at you. “Electric blue…”

“Yeah, I mean… it’s temporary… it used to be emerald green, but I decided to change it…”

“When?”

“What?”

“When did you change your hair?”

“Um… two… no, three days ago.”

This made the man smile.

“Why?” you asked.

“I moved here three days ago.”

“You did?”

The man nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. You watched him pull out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to you. It was soft with wear and age. The paper unfolded with the slightest effort.

Two words were scrawled on the paper.

Electric blue.

“It’s… my color,” the man said, drawing your attention to him.

His words hit you like a wrecking ball.

And then you noticed his eyes.

“What color are your eyes?” you blurted out.

“Um… hazel.”

This… couldn’t be happening.

With shaking fingers, you pulled the cuff of your sleeve up, past your wrist. You showed the man the pale skin with the thin black script.

The smile on the man’s face grew, as did yours.

The man took your hand. His hand was large and warm, comforting.

It felt like… home.

“I’m Sam.”

A Sort of Surprise

A Captain Swan fanfic

So after all the angst of I Would Fight Your Demons, I thought y’all might enjoy a little bit of fluff. Future fic, set waaaaaay in the future. Ties in with A Name is Forever. If you like it, please like and reblog and drop by the ff.net story to leave a review (and boost my view count which boosts the ego).


Today was a two sides of onion rings and an extra-large scoop of rocky road kind of day. Definitely not the smartest of dietary choices. Absolutely something Emma was going to regret in a month or so when this baby was outside of her and it was time to get back in shape for work. And decidedly something she didn’t care about.

Despite the fact that her mom came over this morning to keep her company and help put the finishing touches on the nursery and the fact that Emma hauled her heavily-pregnant ass out the door and down to Granny’s for lunch with her husband, she already had cabin fever. And today was only her first day off. Experience with two younger siblings meant she knew she would appreciate her time off more once the baby came, but right now Emma would’ve welcomed a rogue Snow Queen or magical curse.

Not that she could involve herself too heavily in the action, she could barely walk, let alone chase baddies down main street. She just needed something to do other than sit on the couch watching Netflix.

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Bucky Barnes- Soulmate

Bucky doesn’t want a soulmate, nor does he need one. The numbers on his arm have been on pause ever since he fell from the train and became the Winter Solider.

But they’ve restarted for some particular reason, and he stares down at his right wrist is disbelief.

00days 00hours 01minute 51seconds

And then he completely loses it, startling Steve as he leaps up from his seat in the cafe and bolts for the door. He cannot, will not, hopefully won’t, meet his soulmate.

00days 00hours 01minute 23seconds

His breath is raged as he shoves past people on the sidewalks, shouting at him to slow down, but he picks up his pace and finds an old record store on the corner of a street.

Well, if he’s going to meet his soulmate, he’s going to make it as hard as possible. So he pushes open the door, slips into the farthest row in the darkest corner, and slides down the wall into the floor.

00days 00hours 00minutes 23seconds

Bucky’s heart is thumping wildly in his chest, his ears falling deaf to the light footsteps heading towards him.

And when his numbers reach zero, a shadow falls in front of him and he looks up slowly.

You’re staring, eyes wide and confused. Bucky’s sure you’re disappointed that he’s your soulmate, that you’ll reject him.

But then you’re holding out your hand, your sleeve slipping up past your wrist to reveal that the numbers that also read zero.

So he takes your hand and a zap of lightning shoot up his spine, fireworks exploded behind his eyes. He doesn’t realize he’s on his feet until you speak.

“H-Hi..”

Then there’s a bright flash and he looks up, dazed, to see Steve standing there with a camera.

His eyes widen. “Did I just ruin your moment?”

there's a darkness upon me that's flooded in light

Chapter 3 - AO3 by flyingcrowbar

A Percabeth Pacific Rim collab with @ananbeth

~

“Two pilots, on board.” The AI’s monotone voice signals Annabeth’s arrival.

Percy is already there, standing next to the gyro-stabilizers, the elliptical-like pedals in the floor of this Jaeger’s head. He’s suited up, same as she, holding his helmet loosely in his left hand while his right punches in the prep sequence on the Jaeger’s control panel. The Jaeger lights up and hums to life. She’s stirring. He turns when he hears her enter.

Percy does a double-take when he sees her. She thinks maybe he hadn’t expected her to have shown up, or maybe he hadn’t recognized her in the drivesuit. Either way, Annabeth tries her best to be relaxed, well, as relaxed as she can be before a drift test drive. This Jaeger is still unfinished, grounded literally in the sense that it has no legs. It’s the husk of Bronco Thunder, and being inside it has proven to be… underwhelming. Not in that it’s not spectacular, because it is - a fine piece of human engineering - but for some reason she pictured it to be different.

She imagined that it was much larger, larger than life. And seeing it in person made it real, somehow more mundane. This was the place where Jason and Percy had fought their last battle together. She can only imagine what he’s feeling at that moment. She supposes she’ll find out soon enough. The drift can be funny like that. She’ll be able to know everything about him in less than a minute, a whole lifetime’s worth of information dumped into her brain.

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Favourite Colour

TITLE: Favourite Colour

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: one shot


AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom

GENRE: fluff / romance /

FIC SUMMARY: Tom bumps into a girl and can’t stop thinking about her.

RATING: T

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: I guess I’m back. Bear with me. I am still trying to get into the swing of things. :) Feedback would be great.

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some rubberdoop college trash

This took a lot of editing and I still hate it and im very reluctant to post it but idk!! It’s a college au where they meet and whatever. I got the idea from this post, you’ll know which one. It’s not cute until the end but it’s kind of maybe cliche?? I’m good with like fancy words but I’m still a bad writer so idk,, fight m e ,,,

also I know this is probably not what they went to college for but?? whatever man. i hate this but i hope u enjoy

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Children

[M] [CHAPTER] [SPOILED]

pairing: wontaek
warnings: age-difference, adultery, sugar daddy wonshik, 17yo taekwoon
notes: non-chronological sequel to Spoiled
words: 3,850

There were a lot of things Taekwoon and Wonshik didn’t talk about, their lives crowning the list—but it wasn’t like Taekwoon didn’t know.

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