#started sobbing the first time i heard free and the bomb a couple nights ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

geniedocroe · 3 years

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FOREVER YOURS

(skip muck X reader)

fluff?? idk anymore

a/n: anyways this got requested on wattpad. y’all are free to request anytime you lost xx

wc: 2136

you did not expect to have your best friend crying into your shoulder every afternoon. honestly, you didn’t expect to even be near your best friend on a day like that. you always had plans to stay home and wallow in self-pity all day. that was until skip called you.

before the war, you and skip had been closer than ever. the two of you met as pubescent kids and got into all sorts of trouble. the other people in your neighborhood had definitely deemed you both ‘partners in crime’. there were no complaints from either of you. because in all honesty, skip was in love with you and the feeling had been reciprocated. it wasn’t some sort of unrequited love that was written about in romance novels. it was just two best friends torn apart by the reality of war.

skip was quick to enlist in the airborne (something you weren’t exactly fond of) and you had stayed back at home working in some factory. for years you waited for him to come home. you dreaded getting a call from one of his family members saying they a k.i.a. letter, but thankfully they never did. to you, it felt like a lifetime since you’d seen skip. to him, it must’ve felt like seven lifetimes.

when he came home, he was exactly what you had expected. broken and empty. skip made it very clear that he didn’t want you to force yourself to be the person to fix him. you knew you couldn’t fix him because he was beyond repair, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t fill all the cracks with something new. after all, this wouldn’t happen overnight. it’d take years. maybe even decades. hell, you didn’t think he could ever snap back from this. however, that didn’t mean he couldn’t laugh or the two of you couldn’t be happy. it would come and go, like waves upon a beach. sometimes he was happier for longer, sometimes he was completely reserved and quiet. you were fine with that. it was what you signed up for.

he sobbed into your shoulder for hours on end. he must’ve been in so much physical pain. you could never cry for that long.

“it’s okay to cry. i actually think it makes a person stronger.” you’d tell him.

you loved skip. in your eyes, that was very clear. actually, it was very simple to everyone around you. if you had the chance, you would’ve laid down your life for him. the purest thing in the world was being able to look at someone and just know they were yours. through thick and thin, you had him and he had you. skip knew it, you knew it, all of your friends and family knew it.

most times he’d scream and cry, but never tell you why. you were fine with that. he fought his own battles in his mind. all you could do was sit by and watch. you couldn’t drop into his nightmares and fight away the demons with a sword. you weren’t there throughout the war. you didn’t understand what went through his mind. all you could do was listen. at first, that was all you could do. skip didn’t want to go anywhere. there wasn’t anyone he was dying to see other than you.

years had begun to pass. there was a closing rift between the two of you. though, you did stand side by side through it all. skip opened up to you. he’d try his hardest to explain why he couldn’t sleep through the night. he told you about the time he thought it was all over, and at that moment all he could think of was you. he introduced you to his airborne buddies. they’d say they heard only the best about you. skip would always pull you away before they said too much.

“i’m always gonna be here for you. just say the word and i’m there.” you’d reassure him when the goings got a little too rough.

skip loved you. you had gotten him through the war. skip could so clearly remember sitting in a foxhole and staring directly at a shell that hadn’t gone off. he could hear alex penkala’s distant voice screaming for george luz to jump in their foxhole. then he could see carwood lipton pulling george away. at that moment, he could’ve died. blown to absolute hell. in the shiny metal of the bomb, he could see the color of your eyes. the sizzling of heat hitting the snow reminded him only of your voice singing lullabies to your younger siblings. alex was asking if he was alright and skip had no idea. because you were back home in tonawanda and he was in a freezing cold forest in belgium, yet all he could see was your face.

as soon as the shelling had ceased, skip had pulled out a piece of paper. the letter was addressed to you. he poured his heart onto that paper. every little thing running through his mind was written down. yet skip never sent it. he tucked it away beside his rosary and held it close to his heart. skip never did read that letter after he folded it up. he had gone home after endless years of pain and shoved it into his sock drawer. skip promised that piece of paper was never allowed to be read unless he had grown up and asked you to marry him.

skip was not the type of person to break a promise. the two of you worked your asses off. you could make all the money in the world, but it never compared to what was right in front of you (which was skip). skip worked day and night. he did anything he could. without any trace of a romantic relationship between you two, skip bought an engagement ring. he saved up all his money for one piece of small jewelry. that same night he called you over to his house and asked you to marry him. you never knew what to say when skip had bright ideas like this one, but at that time the only answer was yes. it would only ever be yes.

the night of your wedding, skip handed you a letter that had been as worn out by the war as he was. there were tears in his eyes as you took it into your hand. the date read sometime in january of 1945. you could barely remember that time of year. however, skip looked as though he thought about it every day since then.

january 9, 1945

y/n,

not even ten minutes ago, i nearly faced death. it looked me in my own eyes and told me i was nothing. as it happened, i decided deep in my soul that i didn’t want to die. if it hadn’t been a faulty shell (a shell is a bomb, in case you didn’t know), i don’t think i would’ve felt it. i would’ve known penk was at my side and i would see luz right across from us, crawling through the snow. i think it would’ve been painless. one large blast and suddenly nothing. if i am an unfortunate victim of this war, that is how i’d like to go. no pain, just nothingness.

in case i never see you again, i just want you to know how much you mean to me. i love you more than words could ever say. by the time you’re reading this letter (if you ever are), i’m either dead or we’re married. one can only hope for the latter. hopefully, you know how much i adore you. there is no greater thing in this world than the thought of you as i feel my body getting riddled with hypothermia.

i can’t feel my toes. i haven’t been able to feel them in so, so long. tip: if you’re even in belgium, bring EXTRA socks (also wear the right clothing). it’s terribly cold here. way colder than it has ever been at home. my fingers feel like they could break with the slightest impact. i know that in a time like this, you’re probably cuddled up by the fire. we can’t have a fire here. it would alert the enemy.

the shelling rarely stops. they really are destroying us out here. the enemy knows no sort of mercy and neither do we. some of us are barely making it through this. we’ve lost some great men. i’ve lost some of my best friends. it’s never easy to see one of the toccoa men pass. we are good soldiers. winters likes to tell us that whenever he gets the opportunity.

penk has nightmares. it’s a horrible thing to witness. i have to wake him up just in case he gets a little too loud. i know i have them too, but penk never mentions it. occasionally don will come and visit us. his nightmares are the worst. i haven’t seen him since the shelling has stopped, but if he’s even alive i’ll have to hug him as tight as possible. lip is telling us to stay in our foxholes in case it starts up again. i don’t think i could move if i tried.

i keep thinking about you. i don’t remember the last time i heard from you. it must’ve been before holland. i miss you so much. i wish we were back home. i’d give anything in the world to hear your voice one last time. absolutely anything, you don’t understand. there’s nothing i wouldn’t do.

it’s horrifying out here. skinny had a leg injury and smokey was paralyzed. toye lost a leg and guarnere was badly wounded, so he will probably have to lose one too. hoob accidentally shot himself and passed away so fast that you wouldn’t have even known what happened if you weren’t there. a replacement in babe’s foxhole was shot in the neck. i hear that was a lot of blood. i can't even begin to think about all the other people we’ve lost. it’s been a long and brutal couple of weeks.

christmas was odd. i wish i had been with you, setting up your tree in your parent's living room. i always loved how it was right in the front picture window. it looked like a dream. the snow out here is far from that. i hope you put all the cute little ornaments on. i know you admire those far more than the fancy ones. your mother always hated when we made her tree look “messy”. i hope your parents are well. i wonder what they had gotten you for christmas. were there any presents addressed to me? do they sit under the christmas tree you have yet to take down? will you move them to the back of the closet in your bedroom to sit unopened for years if i never make it home? or will you give them to me the moment you see me again even if it is the middle of summer?

one day, when we’re married and have enough money to buy our own place, i want the big window. i want a big yard and big window and a great big christmas tree. every year we can buy our kids ornaments that they can eventually put on their own tree. maybe we can get a dog or a cat. i’d love to watch a cat bat its paw at the ornaments. imagine a small little dog curled up in front of the fireplace.

i think that when i get home i’m gonna have the fireplace on all year. i don’t think i’ll ever set foot in the snow again. you can take our kids sledding or out to build the snowmen. i’ll stay inside with the dog. we can make imaginary snowmen. i’ll watch you and the kids from the window.

what would we name our kids? how many would we have? where would we live? i have so many questions that i cant wait to answer. maybe by the time you’re reading this, we would’ve already made all the big decisions. tell me, what did your wedding dress look like? am i the man you married? did we elope? or did we have the super huge wedding? please tell me don, penk, and george were there. they are some of my best friends after all. i might have to invite everyone in the company. lord knows they deserve it. i owe my life to these guys. i owe my life to you. after all, i wouldn’t be writing this letter without the thought of you on my mind.

i love you, y/n. i can’t wait to hug you.

forever yours,

skip

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #band of brothers imagine #skip muck #skip muck x reader #skip muck imagine #warren muck

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huearmy · 4 years

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The Smell of Truth - I

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 3090

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Light descriptions of violence, nothing much. For now. Jungkook is just a cute pie here ok dont touch me.

Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

gif is not mine

The gray walls of the silent shelter were cold as it were since day one, the bed was small and the blanket could be softer, from the window a yellow light of a light pole bringing the sensation of isolation. Not so different of the last home of Jungkook.

There were two main differences, though. First and more important, now he didn't need to fight to not die in the rings. And - he was thinking if it is good or not - for the first time in so long he could have a prospect of hope, after all, some people seemed interested in adopting him.

But all of them feared him too.

Some days he spend all his time thinking about how to improve his own image so that someone may want to take him home - trying the hardest to look good in his padronized white clothes, fixing is hair, and maintaining a good posture always. Other days he is just a damn pessimist, knowing that anyone will want a pitbull hybrid. But okay, so if they can't acept him with his disturbed past, he won't acept them neither. He want to be loved after all, high standars... Thats what he tells himself often.

Tonight he don't really care.

Like in his previous home he was going to bed feeling like trash, bones hurting like hell and taste of blood in his mouth. In the reflection on the window he could see the cut and swell in his lips and the hematoma below his left eye. Earlier he got beat up by the shelter's guards. They were four against one, and they had batons to hit and electrocute him. All of this just because he wanted to be alone in his corner and growled for another dog who was annoying him by pulling his tail, maybe they thought he was going to do something violent, but he wasn't. Despite his past, Jungkook hate fighting. And then he just tried to defend himself.

Hours passed and he couldn't sleep, something in his gut telling him he should be alert. The night watchman should've passed by his door ten minutes ago. But he heard nothing. He waited to hear the now familiar sound of the watchman's steps... But instead when the sound came it was of a lot more of feet hitting the ground, coming in his direction, and fast.

Suddenly the door of his room opened with a bang, a tall figure in all black and with a gun in it's belt looking at him from the door frame.

Jungkook hate guns. More than he hate fights. So before he knows it, he is against the wall, protecting himself.

The man said something taking a slow step closer, but Jungkook couldn't hear it clearly - he was too afraid to. Only two types of pople use guns: Cops and the bad guys, sometimes the person is both, like his past owner. He don't like it. Other hybrids were leaving with more people in black in the corridor, and he couldn't understand why. The man reached out for him, and he growled, his ears flat against his head, tail between his legs. So the man steped back, calling for someone.

Poor thing. A million things were crossing Jungkook's mind, all of them horrible... They found me... my old owners found me... They will kill me... They will make me kill... I need to scape...

He was ready to fight his way free, to jump against the tall man and run the faster he could. He was ready to fly through the window even if it was a fall of three floors. Anything but going back to that hell...

His thoughts got cut by a smaller person appering from behind the man. You were all in black too, with tactical boots and all. But no gun.

"Go help with the others..." Your voice came demanding but soft. When the man disappeared, you tried to approach Jungkook. He growled again. "It's ok..." You said pulling down your mask, revelling your face, and a soft smille. "My name is Y/N. I'mma friend, we are here to help.". You took a step closer, and Jungkook let you. You saw it as a hint to continue, crouching down to stay on the same level as him - he hadn't even realized he was huddled in the corner - and reaching out so he can smell you. "We know this place is no good... So we came to rescue.".

He sniffed you once. In the next second Jungkook was all over you. Practically jumping around you, wagging his tail and smelling you. You smell like truth to him, also something sweet, so he'd follow you anywhere.

"Hey, easy boy." You laugh. Automatically Jungkook got embarrassed for being so excited, a little bit more and he would've crushed you in a hug. "What's your name?"

"Jungkook."

"Well, Jungkook... Nice to meet ya." You reach out to greet him, and he took your hand in his. But before he could say anything back, the man appeared in the door frame again, now caring a little cat hybrid girl.

"Y/N, all the bombs are in place. We need to go."

Bombs? Jungkook ears lifted in alert. Like bombs that explode? He looked to you waiting some reaction.

"Oh crap. Is everyone out?" You casually answered.

"We are the last ones I think..." He said as if it was about the weather, carefully accommodating the sleepy girl in his arms.

Maybe bombs are not that big of a deal. Jungkook thought to himself, accepting the odd perspective of both of you.

"Ok, Jungkook, this place is going down. If it there is anything you want to take with you..."

Before you finish the sentence he was putting a tiny wallet in his pocket, and wearing a old cap from the nightstand.

"Ready." Jungkook said with a nod.

You smiled, pulling your mask back up in place. "Let's go then.". You took his hand and ran through the door, Jungkook close behind.

Out side almost all the other hybrids were already safe in the couple of vans of your group, approximately twenty people in black escorting them. You lead Jungkook to one of them following the orientation of another woman with mask and high ponytail. "You go with Youngjae, Y/N.".

"Ok, thanks."

A lot of the hybrids were totally ok with the action, others, mostly the youngers, were sleeping or half asleep. Despite that, a rabbit girl were crying to not enter the van you were supposed to go in.

"You are not understanding... I was going to be adopted on Monday, I need to be here when they came to get me... " she sobbed.

"We know, it's ok... " Youngjae rubbed her arms to comfort her. "We read your file, and I promise you will be with your new owners soon. Okay?"

The girl entered in the van, still a little reluctant, sitting in the passenger's seat - where you were supposed to sit. You didn't think much about it though. You made Jungkook enter and sit in one of the only two available sits, and even if it were more options for you, he didn't let go of your hand, practically pulling you down. He wouldn't make eye contact with you, preferring to keep his gaze down, and wouldn't initiate a conversation, but he would not let go of you neither...

Actually he was holding your hand for dear life.

This is good. You through to yourself.

Hybrids need to feel safe, and if he feels this way right now... It's good. You read all the files of all hybrids days before this of invasion, to know how bad the situation was. Not all of the poor creatures had a sad past before the shelter - all of them were suffering abuse in the shelter - but you remember specifically of Jungkook file, and his violent precedence in rings. When you saw the pictures of how he arrived at the shelter, bruised and curled up in the corner you felt sick and sad. Employee reports said he didn’t allow proximity and showed passive aggression, save for one of the vets, so you - experienced in hybrid behavior - volunteered to be responsible for him. Definitely you didn't expect him to be so easily trusty of you. And that's really good.

"You ok?" You murmure to him just in case. He just nodded, still staring his feet.

A whimper caught the attention of both of you. The dog hybrid that was beside Jungkook, that must've be sixteen, was shrinking up against the window and holding a bunch of stuffed animals as a shield, apparently afraid him. Jungkook scoffed it with a low growl, turning his eyes back to his shabby shoes, choosing to ignore the boy. This kid was the one invading his space earlier that morning. You got alert to intervene in case of a fight, tensing up.

But Jungkook hate fights. Even more if it happens in tight places like a van. He wouldn't do anything even if he wanted to, and it wasn't the case. There is no one who can force him to fight again.

"Everyone is here? Ok. LET'S GO!" That other woman closed the van's door that started moving. In the shelter's external wall, Jungkook saw the enormous words 'SET US FREE' written in red. Just after the last van passed through the gate the building they all were just a few meters before exploded.

"Wooow!" You cheered along Youngjae and some hybrids.

Jungkook turned on his sit to see the flames through the back window, flames red and high likng the black sky of the night, illuminating all around. You observed the look of amazement in his eyes, wondering what he was thinking. Well, the shelter is what saved Jungkook from his old life. In the shelter he could eat three full meal a day, have his own things and shower every day - his favorite part. But he was always surrounded by crowds what make him anxious most of time, and always getting scolded by the shelter employees that clearly didn't really cared for him, getting beaten up more than once. So he couldn't name the feeling in his chest. He could be sad... Or it could be satisfaction... A mix of both maybe. He just imagined the face of the guys that beat him up seeing the ruins and that written wall next morning and chuckled.

"Jungkook sit straight and put the seat belt, please." You squished his hand lightly.

Another feeling that he couldn't name... "Oh. Ok."

A silence settled in the vehicle, cutting trough the night city at high speed. Most of the hybrids were falling asleep, feeling the euphoria of getting free of the shelter going away, long night after all - and it didn't even ended yet - you couldn't blame them to be tired. You knew that in the moment the job ended and the adrenaline lowered, you would be dead tired yourself, ready to sleep till next year. Unfortunately you must keep your image intact and free suspicions, what means going to work normally next day. But in the moment you needed to be alert and ready to protect. Or at least awake.

Just like Jungkook. This boy was wide awake, looking through the window, paying attention in how the Youngjae drives super fast, and gazing you by the corner of his eyes. If he had more space he would be jumping around, his dog excitement exploding out of control. Or he would get shy and only imagine it while looking trough nothing. Something in his mind was, where were you all going? That girl apparently was going to be adopted soon, do that mean he would be adopted too? What kind of owner he would get? But can he trust it would happen? Or trust in these people in black? He didn't know you or your group. What if you were the bad guys, kidnapping hybrids to do bad things...? Jungkook stared suspiciously to you, who was talking quietly with the driver. You didn't seen bad, or mean, or evil. Quite the opposite, you look cute and sweet and beautiful, almost too good to be real. He could say you look totally harmless too if it were not for the shock weapon in your waist and tactical boots ... or the whole situation in general. You're just like every ordinary people that usually look at him fear and mistrust.

"Is everything ok?" You asked again. He just made 'no' with his head. You narrowed your eyes, focusing on Jungkook's face. "This bruises... What happened?"

The poor boy considered what to say, fearing that you would not believe him if he said that he got unjustly beaten, which is true, but obviously you would think he deserved it. Maybe he should stay quiet, so you wouldn't hate him. He should at least look like a good boy to impress. Before Jungkook decided between truth or silence - lying was out of question, he was horrorible in it - a voice besides him awnsered.

"The guards were bored and attacked him for no reason." You both looked to the young boy who had a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, it was my fault, I just wanted to play..."

"Oh". Both you and Jungkook cooed. He didn't expected do recieve a out side help, much less a apologise, the feeling was unprecedented.

"And well, you were the only one who didn't know about the rescue, I wanted to tell you."

Jungkook was confused. "Everybody knew?"

"All the hybrids..." The boy said, suddenly super comfortable around Jungkook.

"And some employes who helped us from within." You added, pulling Jungkook's face for you to see again. "Did someone treated this cut?" You questioned.

Jungkook made 'no' with his head once more and than completed with a low voice.

"The doctor who likes me wasn't working today.".

You sighed in understanding.

"She was one who helped us, we got her an alibi away from here." You leaned forward, talking to the driver through the rear view mirror. "Youngjae, do we have a first aid kit?"

"Under my seat."

The boy stared at the stuffed animals for a good time and then extended one to Jungkook. “Keep him.”

Jungkook looked at the stuffed bunny closely and smiled. “Thank you.”

With the white suitcase open on your lap and letting go of Jungkook's hand - for his dislike - you puted some hydrogen peroxide in a piece of gauze and faced him. "Can I?" You asked permission with a smile. Just like the sweet doctor did when the shelter welcomed him you took care of him - with a little less skill, but lovelly still, making him feel safe. Ok, he absolutelly trust you now.

___________________________________________________

Durig the next hour you received on the radio news of the vans that took different paths arriving at the meeting place, yours being one of the last ones. Gladly no one had any unwanted encounters or problems on the way. The place in question was a freight train station, the secondthe van stoped, Youngjae was out to open the lateral door and you waking the hybrids up. "Lets go my sweet things. You can go back to sleep in a little while." You picked up a sleepy little hybrid, and along Youngjae helped all of them to get aou of the van, to follow the group to two big wagons open for them. Outside, those who saw would see only a common freight train, but inside the cars were adapted to take those hybridos in comfort and safety to a farm, one of the places where your organization guarantees a dignified life for hybrids, especially those who have not had an easy past, whether living there or going to good owners - whatever they choose. Jungkook tried to accompany you in the crowd by holding your hand, but he lost you by a few meter, almost not being able to see you between so many heads and the low light, just following your voice, biting his lip anxiously. For a moment his focus leaved you to the rabbit hybrid girl, she got separated from the group, having time to just quickly say goodbye to another girl, before she run to a car where a couple was waiting for her, the three of then huged, the man took her bag and putted in the trunk. She was really being adopted. Oh man, Jungkook want this so bad. If he is a good boy will he be adopted soon too? "Please, get in." A man in black putted a hand in Jungkook shouder, making him came back daydream. He got surprised for a momente, this man had dog ears to, the men in black have hybrid in their crew. "Please, get i the train." "Wait. No... Y/N..." Apparently he was the only one disturbing, all the other hybrids obeying quietly or already inside the car, looking at him as if he was a weirdo - at least Jungkook felt this way. "Y/N?" "I'm here." You emerged from the crowd. "It's okay, Jungkook, you can get in." "Ok." He smiled to you taking your hand again. He trust you so... But he stoped midstep when he noticed you didn't move. "Aren't you coming too?" You seemed surpresided when responding. "No." He thought for half a second and decided, setting his feet on the ground. "So I'm not getting in neither." "Jungkook..." you tried to argument but he interrupted you. "I'll go where you go." You both held each other's gaze for a moment. All the hybrids were now accommodated in the train wich was about to leave. That women from before came to hurry you, but you wheren't listenning at all. "Does it mean you want to go home with me?" You firmily asked. Without a second thought he vigorously nodded. "Yes." You released a sigh of relief and smiled. "They can close the doors. This one I'll take with me." You say to the woman, making Jungkook jump in his spot from excitement. "Are you sure?" She questioned. "Yep" You guided a super happy Jungkook to the oposite direction the train started to move to, the sound of the locomotive and loud honk blinding the little sounds of joy coming out of his mouth as he takes your hand again, swinging it back and forth. Your organization companions looking at you with knowing eyes. Never before you even consider adopting any of the rescued hybrids.

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this gonna be a series too. pls give love to it.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts hybrid fic #hybrid bts #hybrid jungkook #dog jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #bangtanshadowfamily

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shittylongcatposts · 4 years

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Hi, I LOVE your writing! I was wondering if I can make a request about Jumin and what would happen if MC went back to the apartment after meeting him and is faced with the bomb issue? Love over protective Juju! (it can be an hc or whatever you feel like writing❤️)

heya nonnie, thank you for your kind words!!! <3 I loved your idea sooo much and I got a little carried away and what started as shitty headcanons got way too exciting for me, so i turned them into a little story. I really hope you’ll enjoy it! As always i am too exhausted for proofreading and I will regret it later on- sorry.

TW: swearing, mentions of a fight,

Find the new version here!!

Bad Timing

The days you had spent with Jumin had quite the impact on the both of you. Neither of you would have thought that there were so many things you could talk about. You laughed a lot, and for the first time it felt good for you to be able to laugh with somebody again. Jumins laugh was different, different from others laughter, because it was full of honesty. To be honest you really liked his laugh, not only because of this, but because it sounded adorable, a little deep and raspy but cute in his own way. It could not even be compared to that fake laugh of your ex. No, Jumins laugh felt right.

You were glad for all the troubles you went through the last couple of days, the fight with your ex, who kicked you out of your apartment in the middle of the night and left you out there, wandering through the city, alone. Then this Unknown person, who texted you and suddenly you were connected to a charity group and had a place to stay.

Never in your life you would have thought to stumble upon a new group of friends like this and even if you only knew them for a few days, they already felt like family to you. Maybe this was a new chance for you, a chance to be happy.

After getting to know the dark haired man more and more you noticed how lonely he was. How much he must’ve gone through when he was younger and how much pain he hid from the outer world. And even though Zen always tried telling you what a cold hearted jerk he was, you couldn’t believe it. The Jumin you got to know and started to fall in love with was kind, warm, emotional and caring.

After Jaehee contacted you one afternoon saying that Jumin wasn’t himself at the moment, you wanted nothing more but to help him. Especially since it was him. You really started to like him more and more, so you felt even worse, when you realized how much of a hard time Jumin had. You gathered your courage, went to his penthouse and stayed there for a few days.

He cared so much for you and your safety that he asked you to stay with him until the hacker issue is solved completely and Jumin would be feeling better.

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

“Jumin, you heard Jihyun, he said it’s safe and you know how much work there is left for me, I still need to answer some emails and prepare the invitations etc etc…”, you sat across from him, softly letting your fingers wander over the back of his hand.

“I know, and I don’t and can’t keep you locked in forever, and I am sorry I’ve done it in the first place. I just have this bad feeling in my gut. Something is telling me that you’re still in danger.”, he sighed, while his free hand ran through his onyx locks.

“I will be fine. I promise. I’ll call you as soon as I get there ok?”

“Ok.”

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

A few days later you found Jumin in a more stable state, it hurt you a little bit to think about going back to Rikas apartment but it has to be. You still had lots of work to do and V confirmed that the hacker issue has been solved for now. So you sat down with Jumin talking about your return to the apartment.

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

But soon after he let you go, the red threads pulled tighter and tighter around his chest, leaving him nearly unable to breathe. Deep down he knew something was wrong, The hacker issue may have been solved according to his best friend, but what if he was wrong?

The ringtone of his cellphone pulled Jumin out of his thoughts. It was Luciel, he seemed quite off in the last chat rooms, he behaved so differently, Jumin tried calling him not long ago, but only Sevens voicemail answered. He took the call immediately.

“Hey Jumin, I hope everything is fine with you and Mc. Is she still with you?”Jumin could hear a sniff at the other end of the line, curiously he tilted his head. Did he cry?

“Luciel, what’s wrong, you don’t seem to be alright? Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Kind of, but that doesn’t matter now… Is Mc still with you?” he asked again, sounding a little bit more concerned than before.

“She’s on her way back to Rikas apartment, apparently she’s going there by the subway, even though I offered her a driver. But… why do you ask?” Jumin felt the red thread creeping around his neck choking him, his voice was about to get shaky, hopefully Luciel wouldn’t realize it.

“W..What? Couldn’t you at least give me a call before you let her run off? W-we need to find her asap! My god…” the red haired man sounded nervous, not only nervous but frightened. So there was a problem, Jumin thought to himself.

“Luciel, pull yourself together, and tell me what the hell is wrong!”

“I... There… ok… Rika… she told me to install a detonation system and I just logged back into the system of the apartment and the whole system is currently unstable, which means that everybody who walks through the door is in great danger. Fuck, Jumin, I’m so sorry...” Luciel mumbled, Jumin heard him sobbing again.

“Are you just telling me that there is a bomb in the apartment?! I… I can’t believe it. Tell me the address now. ...and don’t even start pulling out the classified-information- card, I’m having enough of this. I’m going to pick you up. NOW!”Jumin couldn’t see clearly, a fog seemed to cloud his mind and he could barely hear his own voice, but he knew he was nearly screaming. Breathe in… and breathe out, we’re saving her.

“Jumin?...Are you still there?” he heard his friend's voice saying.

“Yes, I’m sorry for getting so loud...I don’t know what..”

“doesn’t matter now, I’m picking you up, you won’t be able to drive anyway. We will make it in time, Jumin.”

The boys sat in complete silence. They both stared through the window, focusing on the cars that flew by. Luciel drove fast, and Jumin was glad to have him at his side at the moment.

“Luciel?” Jumins raspy voice finally broke the silence.

“yeah?”

“Why did Rika make you do this? Nothing could be so important that you have to blow the whole place up in order to save some data.”

“I, I don’t know, she never told me why. Maybe It’s because she hid other information there as well.” Seven chuckled nervously, he seemed to be unsure how to continue this conversation.

“Other information?”

“I’m not in the place to explain that to you, ask V, when or should I say if he is going to return. Hopefully he will, because I have to pick a bone with him.” the ginger sounded dead serious, leaving Jumin alone with his thoughts again. When he looked at seeven again, he could have sworn to see tears in his amber eyes. But Jumin chose to stay silent.

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

When you suddenly saw a red flash at the corner of your eye. With screeching tires it came to hold and two figures jumped out of the car. A large shadow ran directly towards you, a slightly smaller one followed right after it.

You finally arrived at the building, it was a pretty long trip and you were exhausted. You already started missing Jumin. But you had work to do. A lot of work.

You recognized Jumin pretty quickly and let go of the door handle which fell back into it’s lock. Click.

Before you even knew it you found yourself in a tight embrace. His hands stroked over your hair and you felt him sobbing.

Looking up at the building again you sighed, let’s go inside Mc, you thought.

“My god, Mc, I’m so glad we made it in time. You’re safe, I... I prayed so much that nothing would happen to you.”

“wha… Jumin what’s going on?” You asked, wondering what got into the boys for appearing in such a rush, as if your life was on the line.

“But, guys… what’s wrong?” You asked once again. The dark haired man took your hand to guide you to Saeyoungs car.

“C-can I join in on the hug?” the young man next to Jumin asked, you felt your crush nodding on the top of your head. You felt another pair of arms holding you and Jumin together, then Luciel shuffled his hand through your hair.

“We’ll explain it later my dear, let us calm down first.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you’re safe. Surprise~ hehe…” Saeyoung chuckled nervously, the tears in his eyes disappeared. He let go of you two, only to receive another quick hug from Jumin, who mumbled a quick “thank you!”.

#mysme #mysmes #mystic messenger #jumin han #juminxmc #shitty longcat #nonnie #ouuuf #I'm sorry it took me a little bit longer #i dunno if i should tag saeyoung into it too #well #707 #luciel choi #saeyoung choi

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ideasthatbuildcities · 4 years

Text

Every Week - Inuvember 3

Hello everyone! I’m here to bring you Chapter 3 of my Inuvember fic “It’s Time Already”.

Like I said, I’m going to use the Inuvember prompts and write a whole story inspired by several prompts. The idea of this story is that you can read each chapter as a One-Shot for each prompt or you can read the whole story throughout Inuvember!

This is going to be a very angsty fic with a happy ending, I promise you. So please, bear with me.

Summary: After the final battle with Naraku, the well closes and never opens again, leaving Inuyasha and Kagome 500 years apart. Inuyasha decides he will wait for her, but he knows his friends can’t do that. How do you cope with losing the love of your life and think that you would never see them again? How do you cope with not being able to say goodbye to your best friend? Only time will tell. [InuKag] [MirSan]

You can read chapter 3 below, in FF.net or in AO3.

“Every week” - Sango. tw: Character's death in this chapter. If you are concerned by this trigger warning please feel free to contact me.

Sango didn’t understand what was happening. One minute the well was gone, the next one he was able to hear Inuyasha screaming Kagome’s name from the bottom of it.

Was Kagome dead? She didn’t want to even think of that possibility, but she didn’t know what happened during those three days the well was gone. She did what she thought was best; she waited.

Inuyasha jumped out of the well and stood in front of them. There was a silence that Sango didn’t know how long it lasted, it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, she lost count. All she could feel was her heart beating against her ribcage, waiting for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“She’s not coming back,” Inuyasha simply said, “She’s back with her family, Kagome is safe and sound where she belongs…” He turned around, not being able to face them. Sango felt how Miroku slightly squeezed her hand, showing her he was there to support her.

Even though she was relieved to know that her friend was alive, there was a thought that kept resonating inside her head, growing a little louder with every passing second. At first it was a whisper but then it was so loud she couldn’t hear anything else.

Kagome is gone forever.

“But… I couldn’t even say goodbye,” Sango said, covering her mouth as if that could hold the sob that was threatening to come out. Miroku put an arm around her, comforting her.

“I know, Sango, I’ll miss her too,” he said while applying some pressure on her shoulder. “But we have to believe Inuyasha here, he says that Kagome is alright and she’s with her family, she’s safe and sound and that’s all that matters.”

She wasn’t able to understand what Miroku was saying. Through the whole year her journey lasted, Sango was sure she was going to lose someone important to her. First, she thought that person was going to be Kohaku, since every single day that passed made her lose hope that they would ever get him back from Naraku’s grasp.

Then, she thought she was going to lose Miroku to his Kazana, a time bomb that was always threatening to explode and swallow them all. But one thing she never imagined, was that she would be mourning the loss of Kagome, it was impossible to phantom. Kagome was supposed to be there for her and help her pick up the pieces, like she always used to.

Who is going to help me now?

Sango, not being able to function anymore, fell to her knees, covering her face as if that simple gesture could help her contain all the grief that was flowing inside her body.

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“Kaede believes I’m pregnant,” Sango said under the Goshinboku. “I know you would be happy for me right now, I know it. You are the first person that I wanted to tell the news,” she added with a sad smile.

She felt a little silly doing this, coming to the Goshinboku and talking to it as if it were her friend. It had been 5 months since the well had closed and she found that coming here and talking to the tree made her feel at ease. The meadow where the tree was located made her feel safe and at peace, the same way Kagome’s reassuring presence made her feel. Being there helped her think and help her sort her thoughts and sometimes that was all she needed: peace and quiet.

Even though Sango loved her life as a wife, sometimes the village could feel lonely. No other woman understood how she was raised, and some would even turn her heads when she behaved unladylike; like the warrior she was.

She was doing her best to try to adjust to being a wife and to let go of her warring past, but she missed the comradeship she used to have with Kagome. Kagome knew Miroku, she knew how troublesome he could be sometimes, she also knew Inuyasha and his ability to drive everybody insane with his bad temper.

“I want to wait until I’m sure to tell Miroku, I don’t want to keep his hopes up. I know my body has gone through so much over the past year, so I don’t know how good it is to grow a baby. Kaede says that I’m a healthy young woman, so I shouldn’t worry about it…” Sango added, placing a hand on her stomach.

She caressed her stomach with her hand and a little smile came across her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to process everything that happened that morning that led to Kaede telling her she was pregnant. Then, it dawned on her: She was going to be a mother! She never thought she was going to make it out alive of the battle with Naraku, less alone have her own family.

Without even realizing, she started to cry, but this time, they were tears of happiness.

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It was a late night and she couldn’t sleep. Hisui had barely survived a fever and was now getting better, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something might have gone wrong and she might have lost someone else. She wasn’t ready for that. Kaede had recently passed away and the new miko was still learning about medicinal herbs, so it took her a little longer to help cure Hisui, time that he almost didn’t have.

Sango wished that Kagome were there, knowing that she would have been able to help Hisui. The truth was: Kagome wasn’t there. Feeling all the weight and the stress building up inside her body, she sat down on one of the roots of the tree and cried, letting go of all the worry she had in her body. Monsters she could fight, but diseases? She was helpless.

“Sango, are you hurt?” she heard a voice behind her ask.

“No, Inuyasha, I’m okay,” she replied while wiping away her tears.

“Then why are you crying?” Inuyasha inquired, getting closer to her.

“I’m crying because I’m tired,” she simply said, not caring to elaborate.

“I thought of her too, you know? When I saw the new miko wasn’t able to help Hisui. I was ready to go look for Sesshoumaru, just in case…” he trailed off, not daring to finish the sentence.

Sango looked at Inuyasha with her round eyes and then smiled at him, realizing that even though Kagome wasn’t there, Inuyasha was taking care of them, the same way Kagome would do. She smiled at him and said, “You know, I come here every week and talk to the Goshinboku, I feel like I’m talking to her, in a way,” Sango admitted to him.

She never dared to bring Kagome up when Inuyasha was around. Kagome meant a lot to everybody but she knew that it was a very special topic for Inuyasha and even though he tried to convince everyone that he was okay, Sango could see that the mention of her was painful to him.

“I know, every time I come here it reeks of you and your family,” Inuyasha replied teasingly.

“Sorry about that,” she said, laughing for the first time in a week.

“It’s alright, we all need a way to remember her,” he said, looking at the tree.

They stayed in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the calmness of the night. Sango took the opportunity to look at Inuyasha and really study him. He looked so young, it seemed as if time had frozen for him, barely looking a couple of months older than he used to be when they used to fight demons and travel across Japan by foot, almost ten years ago.

“All I need to do is survive, Sango, and sometimes I’m afraid I’m not going to make it,” Inuyasha admitted.

Sango looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you going to meet her in the future?” Sango asked, knowing it was an obvious question. She didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t used to seeing Inuyasha so vulnerable.

“I will do my best, but I don’t know what the future holds. I haven’t seen any demons in the future; I wasn’t able to smell even one. How I am going to survive five hundred years, Sango?” he looked right at her and she could see the concern and pain on his face.

Sango’s face softened and she had the urge to hug him, but she knew Inuyasha wouldn’t like that. Instead, she got closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly.

“I know you would see her again, Inuysha,” she reassured him. “Love always finds a way.”

Even though Inuyasha simply nodded and shrugged it off, he didn’t pull away. She knew that’s exactly what he needed to hear.

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Sango was sitting down on the tree, tears silently running down her face. Miroku was gone and she didn’t know what to do. They lived a happy life, she couldn’t complain, but that didn’t make his departure any less painful. She knew the day would come and it seemed that even Miroku knew, since the day before leaving this world he said some of the most beautiful things he had ever said to her.

For the past month, Miroku had been writing about his life, he said he wanted to share his story with the world because he started as a monk with a death sentence and was about to go as the luckiest man alive. He said he was sure his story would reach Kagome, and he even sent a message to her. For the past month, he had been reading his writing to her every night, and yesterday he had finish writing the last of his book.

Sango shook her head with a smile on her face. That was Miroku, the man that made her feel everything. He made her feel alive again, he made her feel like everything was possible. She was ready to die for him and to live for him. She wanted to give him everything, to love him deeply…

“You gave me everything, Sango, you did,” Miroku said as he held her wrinkled hands with his own. “I’m so glad you said yes to me all those years ago,” he added with a smile.

“Hoshi-sama...” she replied, taken aback by his sudden confession.

“I just wanted you to know that you made me the happiest man alive, you gave me the girls and you gave me Hisui. They are everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” he kissed her hands and then gave her a kiss in the lips. “Thank you for trusting this ill-behaved monk. I love you, Sango.”

They wished each other a good night and they went to bed. The next day, he was gone.

She knew this day would come, and she had no regrets, she loved him fully and they built something beautiful together. They had the life that they both wanted but they thought they would never get.

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It was getting harder everyday to get to the Goshinboku; if it weren’t for Inuyasha and his young body she would never get there by herself. She still insisted on going, and Inuyasha would always carry her there and leave her alone for a few minutes so she could talk to her friend. She knew she was close to being reunited with Miroku and she was happy to see her children become parents of their own. She loved the fact that her children had the same habit of hers to come talk to the tree and find all the right answers. It had become a family thing to protect and sort their feelings under the Goshinboku.

“You ready?” she heard Inuyasha behind her.

“Could you promise me something, Inuyasha?” she asked, not even bothering to reply to his question. “Could you tell her our story and tell her that she was always on our mind?” she asked with tears in her eyes.

“Keh, of course I will tell her about you, don’t ask stupid questions.” Sango could see that Inuyasha was offended by her question and she just smiled, as she slowly climbed on his back.

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Sango was walking towards a hut, she didn’t know where she was but she felt at peace, everything was quiet and beautiful.

“I’m proud of you, Sango,” she heard a voice say. She looked right next to her and saw her father, walking alongside her.

“Father?” she asked, as she realized she was young and she was able to freely move again.

“Yes, Sango. You should know that your mother and I are proud of how strong you are and the amazing life that you have lived. You are a true warrior,” his father continued. “And I, as head of the village, want to thank you for carrying the slayers’ values in every aspect of your life; you have not only made me proud, you have made our entire village proud,” his father finished as he put a hand on her shoulder.

Sango didn’t know what to say. She didn’t understand what was happening but she was happy to see and hear her father again.

“Thank you, father,” she replied, holding back the tears.

“There is someone very eager to see you, he’s been waiting for you,” he added as he pointed towards the hut she was initially walking towards.

Sango looked again and started walking towards the hut again, drawn by it. Who was waiting for her? Could it be…?

She crossed the door of the hut and was blinded by a light. She covered her eyes and waited for her sight to adjust. She was able to see that the light was coming from a fire. There was a man sitting next to it, waiting for the stew to be ready.

“Hello, Sango, I’ve been waiting for you,” Miroku said with a smile.

“Hoshi-sama…” she replied and ran towards him, hugging him so tightly that she almost knocked him to the floor.

Suddenly, they were young again, and they were finally reunited.

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Okaay, I can't believe I posted this!! I was so sure I wasn't going to be able to write this whole chapter. But I ended up writing it and crying like a baby while doing it.

I hope you like this little bit of Sango, I wanted to tell her story! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews I've been getting, the amount of love for this story is overwhelming. This story holds a very special place in my heart, so I'm very happy that you are liking it too.

I just want to tell you that the angst part is almost over, and the fluff will begin. We will see each other again in a few days, for the InuKag prompt!!

Tagging:

@witchygirl99 @fantastiqueparfait @doginabirdcage @inuvember @hinezumi @meggz0rz @heyy-ahriii @cammysansstuff @shinidamachu

Let me know if you want on/off the tag list!

#Inuvember #Sango #MirSan #Hisui #Inuyasha #LiaSango writes #angst #fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfiction #MirSan fanfiction #MirSan fanfic

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secret-engima · 4 years

Note

I just thought... What if the Arachne Mother survived? She held herself together for her children for oh, so long, and it was so very hazy at first- she sang for her children. Lullabies. Nursery rhymes. Anything that might be a comfort to them from a momma gone... strange. And they sang back, her beautiful children. They sang, and the haze lightened. Things got easier. And eventually the dawn came. She expected to go with the night. She didn't. By then, she wasn't the only one.

A Pretty Song-esque AU huh? I .... could work with that. Non-canon but sure!

SUPER LONG FICLET RAMBLE.

It starts with the singing. The lullabies she croaks out to them after Turning. It starts with her beloved children watching her shake with the pain of holding back the Scourge’s fury and clumsily singing back to her in an effort to help.

And it does. When her children sing, her mind clears. Just a bit. And then a bit more. More and more until there is only the faintest haze, the slightest disconnect that keeps her from plunging into insanity from the horror of no longer being human. She is ... she is the mother of her two precious baby children, and that is all that matters. Her extra limbs and different coloring, her webs and claws and extra set of crushing jaws is irrelevant. Those are her children and she will take care of them, sing to them and be sung to and that is what matters.

She still tries to bring Hunters, because food for human children is so hard to find and there are so many daemons that do not listen, do not hear her children’s voices. But she tries less and less as the haze clears and her mind steadies, and the reports of an occasional odd Arachne are not frequent or deadly enough to attract the attention of a dedicated Hunt.

She comes back from looking for food one day to find a Yojimbo lurking near her cellar nest and she screams at him in fury, pauses when he obediently flees to the far side of the farm and then lingers. She hisses and snarls and he growls back before finally leaving.

She comes back another day and finds him again. Sitting with his sword sheathed and propped on his shoulder, head tilted toward the cellar as he clumsily croaks out the melody to the song her children are singing through the door. She drives him away again.

Three more times this repeats before it finally clicks that ... somehow ... this Yojimbo can hear her children’s songs like she can. In that way that makes the haze and pain clear away. That he is desperate for that clarity and keeps coming back to hear them sing through the door at him. On his next visit, he brings her an armful of canned food. Human food. Food for her babies. He retreats to the far side of the farm again and lingers. She does not drive him away this time.

The Yojimbo is the first of five. Five souls who are either so old or so stubborn the Scourge has not completely eaten their minds and when they hear her children singing, when the tingle of the Light in their veins draws them near, the haze clears and they calm. They think once more. They compare, in croaking words and gurgling hisses, their stories. Their fractured awareness. She is Mother, as she has always been, and those are her children, Pandora and Orion. The Yojimbo was once a Brother. A Brother of eight little ones who sang and laughed, but now he cannot find them. He does not know how long they have been gone. The Nagarani twins are Sisters who were also Mothers, and they still search for their children, but come back regularly to listen to the songs of the little twins to clear their minds. The littlest of them, the Tonberry, was a Child, and it was in one of the rare times Arachne Mother let her children outside to play under her’s and Brother’s watchful eyes that he heard the singing and remembered what he had once been. They were happy to take in another child, and her babies were thrilled to have another playmate who was so good at sneaking into small places and coming back with new food.

The last of them is the strongest of them all. A Psychomancer who had abandoned the territory in which he had awoken and searched endlessly for ... something, until he stumbled across the farm and heard her children sing.

Saw their inner Light as it sparkled out of their skin like glowing blue snowfall during their games.

He stayed for their Light rather than their songs, he said. He stayed because he was certain they were what he had been searching for. He stayed because he had once been a Soldier, and as he pulled free the two small blades that had long been buried in his body and offered them to her babies, he crooned at them because in them he had found what he needed. A Soldier’s purpose.

Between the six of them, her babies were safe from the other daemons and wild things that did not listen to the songs, they were fed on food scavenged by the Child and the Sisters, and the meat of fresh animal kills dragged back by the Brother. With the Soldier there, always there, the farm was safe, for even Iron Giants and roving packs of Bombs and Goblins turned aside rather than fight the Soldier, who had come from a territory that bred much strong daemons than here and who possessed the cunning of a clear, mostly untainted mind thanks to her babies.

The Soldier taught her to leave strands of webbing around the farm and the surrounding area, nets and ropes and things that would trip and stick and tangle, and as her little ones grew bigger, the Soldier taught them about their Light. How to hide the blades he had given them in the Light and how to call them back when in danger, how to fight and duck and weave, how to fall through space and reappear somewhere else. The Soldier knew all those things, even though he could not remember how or why, but they kept her children safe, and for that, Mother was grateful.

It is the Sisters that bring back the first of the human strays. Three children of different ages, terrified and hungry and sad. Soldier says they should be given to humans, but Mother is a Mother, and she welcomes them. Her children teach them songs, and the addition of three more voices makes the world clearer than ever before. The Sisters start a habit of bringing back strays, all of them human children, all of them found without a human adult nearby. It puts extra pressure on the others to find food, and the Soldier and the Brother have to repair the old farmhouse as best they can when the cellar becomes too crowded, but none of them can begrudge the additional children.

If Arachne Mother had still possessed a sense of time with which to count, she would have known her children to be 7 years old and their collection of strays grown to ten strong when trouble follows the Child home. Humans, ever more desperate for food and supplies, had spotted the Child toddling away with a blanket sled of canned goods and that, coupled with other reports of odd daemon activity in that area, led to a Hunting party being dispatched to take a look.

They make it maybe halfway to the farm before getting hopeless caught and tangled in Mother’s web traps, which pull the collection of empty cans the Soldier had rigged up in a nearby tree and clatter loudly.

Mother goes and finds them, four hunters all tangled up in her webs without a prayer of getting out and she dithers. The traps were meant for other daemons, not for humans. The Scourge screams to fall on them and devour them, but her mind has been clear for years now and she refuses to fall back now. She clicks and chatters to herself in agitation while the Brother, who came with her, idly pokes one of the humans with the tip of his sword sheath in dull curiosity. The Brother is the one to stop chattering softly in daemon and instead rasp with human words, “Why ... come?”

The humans, dangling in the web traps, gape without answer. The Brother pokes one of them again and the littlest one, blond haired and skinny, sputters, “Did I just- did it just- talk?”

“Why ... come?” Rasps the Brother impatiently and the one with deep scars on his face answers shakily, “Just to look around. We ... were looking for food.” He smells like he’s telling the truth, but not all of the truth.

Brother clicks to himself and looks at Mother. It is her farm and her children, she is in charge. Mother remembers days before the haze fully cleared and the Brother came. Remembers frantically trying to find humans to take care of her children.

She untangles them from the web. If they cause trouble, she and Brother and Soldier will be enough to stop them. And with the surprisingly deadly Child home as well, they will stand no chance, even without the Sisters there to help (the Sisters wander the most, still searching for the children they cannot find).

They let the humans follow them back to the farm, and the noises of shock that come from them upon seeing the children (all outside under Soldier’s careful watch for mandatory play time and exercise) is funny somehow. Soldier looks up sharply at the sound and his fires flare hot when he catches sight of the humans.

The children huddle away from the strangers, and Mother coos at them softly, petting heads and shoulders in reassurance, only to stiffen and hiss warningly when her babies inch forward and call their blades to point at the humans, demanding to know why they are here.

All of them, child and daemon, startle when two of the humans burst into tears. The third follows quickly, as soon as he senses the Light of her children and hears his companions sob, “Oh Astrals, Noct had kids”. The fourth sinks slowly onto one knee, staring not at her children, but at their twin blades the Soldier gave them long ago.

The humans do a lot of talking and after a few flinches and stupified staring, they ask the Mother and the others questions. Who are they, how are they still sane, who are all the children, who are the Twins that have “magic”? They tell the humans what they can, wary but open to answering the humans’ questions. The looks on their faces as they hear the story is something Mother can no longer translate, so she busies herself running careful claws through Pandora’s and Orion’s hair to neaten it.

They speak of someone called Noct, and memory dimly sparks. Of the Time Before and blue eyes and a shy laugh.

They tell their names, hesitantly, Gladiolus, Prompto, Ignis.

The fourth is still staring at the twin blades her children play with as he says his name is Libertus.

The Soldier makes a noise like he has just been badly injured and all of the daemons and children tense. The humans tense too, looking to the Psychomancer who flexes his claws and drifts closer, staring at the one called Libertus.

There is silence for a long, long time. Then the Psychomancer rasps, “For ... Hearth ... and...” he clicks in frustration, the ending of the phrase long lost to him.

Libertus looks very pale, even by human standards, “Home. For Hearth and Home.” Soldier clicks in approval and the man looks from the blades to Soldier before rasping, “...Nyx? Astrals- Nyx is that...?”

Soldier ponders that for a long time, “No,” he croaks at last. “Not ... Nyx.” Soldier tilts his head and touches the places where he had once pulled the blades free, “Ulric.” the Soldier rattles, surprised by the sudden word that just came from his mouth, “Ulric,” he repeats, “His blades. I woke ... they were ... inside. Ulric ... was gone.” A blink and a slow, vague, almost dreamlike, “Reckless ... Glaive.” Soldier blinks again, like he doesn’t know why he is saying those things, but they are so ingrained they have risen up from the blank slate that was the Times Before he was a daemon.

Libertus goes even paler and leans heavily against the nearest other human, “Captain. Oh Six... you’re Captain.”

Soldier rattles in quiet recognition of the word, then offers a hesitant, “Glaive ... Ostium.”

Mother notes that while the other three humans are still confused, Libertus looks like the stray children did the first time Brother brought back a fresh animal kill to eat, all pale and quavery right before they turned away and hacked up bile from empty stomachs. The one called Libertus does not vomit, but he stays very pale even as Gladiolus mutters, “So much for a quick Hunt. Six, I need a drink.” Child, ever helpful, toddles over with one of the bottles of water he had found during his searches and holds it out, the man stares before taking it with a wheezy mutter of thanks and slugs it down like he hasn’t had a drink in days.

Maybe it’s a good thing Mother hadn’t given her children to humans, if the adults aren’t even able to look after themselves.

“I think,” offers the one with the face scars, “we all need to sit down and reevaluate.”

They do and it’s hard, and the children have to sing a few times to keep everyone calm and thinking clearly, but eventually an agreement is reached. The humans don’t want to leave the children out here with just daemons for caretakers, but none of the daemons are willing to give up the children. In the end, they come to an agreement. The children will stay at the farm with the daemons, and the humans will help rebuild the farmhouse properly and add defenses to help ward off other, “deaf” daemons. In exchange for staying and not being bothered, the farm will become another safe zone for traveling Hunters to stay and rest for a while before moving on. This area has very few of the Light stones the humans call Havens, so another safe place to stay would be invaluable. The humans, in exchange for being allowed to stay, will bring extra food, blankets, toys, whatever the children need, including a generator to replace the one that finally died not long after the Soldier came.

No one is entirely happy with it, but they are agreed.

She doesn’t expect the four humans to come back quite so regularly though. But the three brothers are attached to her twins, certain that Pandora and Orion are the children of their missing sibling, and the fourth, Libertus, insists he knew the Soldier (now renamed the Captain) before he was a daemon.

It is rocky at first, the Hunters are skittish and afraid of the daemons, afraid for the children that the daemons care for, but the regular visits of the Four smooths things over and Mother gets used to having adult humans drift in with gifts of toys and food and medicine in exchange for sleeping a while in the Farmhouse under their watchful eyes.

When Pandora and Orion are ten years old, the Captain suddenly leaves the farm, driven by some urge he cannot name. They await his return patiently, for they’ve all wandered off at one time or another.

Except before he does, the world is rewritten in Light, and Mother loses track of everything that is not Pain™.

She opens her eyes and squints up at a sky that is not black, but blue and realizes ... she is on her back.

She is ... she is human.

Again?

Again. She is human again, because she was once human, just like her children are human, and now, somehow, she is human once more, with her children hovering over her and crying with relief as she wakes up.

She sits up and looks around. The Brother is there, shaking his head and staring at a world that is suddenly much taller, the Child clatters out of the cellar, still hauling his knife and lantern, but his skin pale and his new hair a shaggy gold. The Sisters coo as they gently touch hands, fascinated with having them again. The Hunters who had been staying the night gape and cry and cheer.

The sun has returned.

Four days later, so does Captain, human and limping and tired and grumbling under his breath that the journey was much faster when he could just float everywhere, a wheezing-with-laughter Libertus supporting him as he stumbles, something lighter in the human’s- the fellow human’s- expression than Mother- Evie- has ever seen before.

Behind them come the three brothers...

And their fourth.

Evie stares at black hair and soft blue eyes, the shy crinkle of his mouth into a smile as he looks around the farm and its restored inhabitants and she thinks “oh.”

She calls her children and leads them over, and before anyone else can say a word, she rasps with her still rusty voice, “Pandora, Orion, this is your father.”

And their father, Noct, Noctis, Bringer of Dawn and Defier of Fates ... smiles in baffled awe and wonder and growing adoration as he beholds his children for the first time.

(anyway yes, I reverted them to human just because I wanted to, and Noctis lives because i wanted him too. He deserves his happy ending dang it.)

#SE asks #talisward asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Last Stardust verse #au of an au

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ratedbangtann · 4 years

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✧˚₊‧𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 - 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞. ✧˚₊‧

𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 || 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙠

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍...

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Word count: 6K

Warnings: Explicit smut; cunnilingus. Emotional sex. Unprotected sex but birth control used. Angst. Cheating and upsetting break up.

Song: Last Christmas by WHAM! ✧˚₊‧

No time of year felt as lonely to Hoseok as Christmas; this year in particular. He'd always struggled with idol life around now. He often couldn't make it home for the holidays, with scheduling conflicts or his parents going out of town for a vacation abroad. He found himself alone most years.

Not last Christmas. Last Christmas, he had you.

All the boys had left to go back to their hometowns that year, finally free for long enough to travel home. But Hoseok had stayed put, wanting to be in Seoul for you. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving you over the holidays, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. He was totally in love with you, knowing he landed the jackpot when he met you.

Your beauty, your kindness, your intelligence, your passion; he loved you so much that it terrified him.

But it had all gone south two months ago, after a string of stupidity on his part.

You had given everything to Hoseok, bared your soul to him in the year that you were together. You let him break down your walls, your insecurities. You let yourself fall in love for the first time ever. You had felt like you finally had found someone worth spending the holidays with; Christmas, New Year, birthdays... He was your whole world, your whole future.

But Hoseok took you for granted. He didn't realise what he was doing, or the impact it had on you.

It started off small, expecting little things from you. You knew how busy his life was of course, and you tried to keep up with him and do the things he never had time to do; cooking meals for him when he was tired, his laundry when it had stacked up too high. You'd do cute little things for him, like leaving him little notes in the lunch you had prepared for him to take to practise with him.

And to begin with, he did the same for you. On days he had to leave before you had even woken up, you'd wake up to a pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note on the worktop reminding you that you were special, or beautiful or just that he loved you.

But the affection started to dwindle, his efforts diminishing the longer you spent together. He had become too comfortable, letting himself forget to call you back or showing you little to no attention at all when he finally came home from practise and you had stayed up all night waiting for him.

It got harder when he left on tour; gone for weeks on end and barely calling. He'd be on the phone to you and suddenly tell you he had to go, abandoning you for a night drinking with the boys. You understood that he wanted to have fun and needed to blow off steam, but he was making absolutely no effort at all to communicate with you.

Frustrations built over time, to the point where you had ignored a few of his calls because you were petty enough to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to make him realise that it hurt when he did it to you instead of voicing your feelings to him.

A particularly hurtful argument occurred one night when he was in America. You had just finished a long day at work yourself, and with the time difference, he had totally ignored the fact that you would have been settled in bed when he called. You snapped at him, telling him you were trying to sleep, and he lost it...

"Well when is a good time to call, y/n? You never fucking pick up anyway," he'd scorned, anger evident in his tone.

"Well maybe now you know how it feels, Hobi. How many times have you ignored my calls?" you spat down the phone. "And when we do finally talk, you ditch me for a party. I'm back here feeling so fucking lonely and you show no interest in me or my day at all!"

"Don't... My schedule is fucking ridiculous, I need to let loose every so often. I don't have time for you every second of every day!" he yelled, voice raising significantly.

"It takes 2 minutes just to text me a 'how's your day been babe? Miss you.' You used to. You used to care so much. Now I'm a god damn afterthought!" Tears pricked at your eyes, voicing every grievance you had built up over the last few months. "If you don't want to make time for me, that's fine. But I will NOT make time for you anymore." And you hung up.

Anger seethed through Hoseok. He blamed you for it all, completely ignorant to his own mistakes. That night, he made one of the biggest he ever had.

You hadn't found out until he had come home two weeks later, the argument still in the back of your head but you pushed it away in the hope that he would have had time to cool off, to think. You were just excited to have him back home, so you could at least talk about your problems together; like couples should.

But he had been so vacant, so distant with you from the moment he made it home. You had run to him, kissing him at the door but his lips felt stiff and unmoving, his hands never wrapping around your waist like they usually did.

He had sat you down, hanging his head low and confessed his biggest mistake to you.

"I-I... I cheated on you, y/n. The night we fought..."

Your blood ran cold, seeming to drain right down to your feet and pool there. You sat opposite him, hot tears building in your eyes.

"Get out," you said simply, softly.

"C-can we just talk about this, I-"

"Get out," you repeated.

"I was angry, and I got so drunk that night. I don't even know her name but she was just there and I don't know what was going through my head but I was so mad at you and I just-"

"GET OUT!" you screamed suddenly, the tears spilling down your cheeks. You stood up, pointing at the door. "NOW! GET OUT!"

He stood up with you, holding his hands up to try to calm you. He wanted to talk, to get it all out on the table and own up to what he'd done, but you didn't want to give him the chance. You were too hurt, too broken by what he had done. There was no coming back from this.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to-"

"GET OUT. FUCKING LEAVE, I DON'T WANT YOU HERE," you screeched, pushing him away from you. "DIRTY, VILE FUCKING ASSHOLE!" you kept pushing him, backing him up towards the front door until he opened it, stepping out into the hallway.

He looked up at you with tears in his own eyes, begging you to let him stay, to talk. But you could barely look at him right now.

"Don't come back," you whimpered, slamming the door in his face. You immediately collapsed against the door, sliding down it into a pile of limbs and sobbing to yourself. Hoseok stood on the other side of the door, in silent tears.

He could hear your sobs through the door, his heart breaking. He flattened his palm against the door, reaching out to you as you sobbed on the floor. It was too late though; you had shut him out. But he couldn't bring himself to walk away, not while he could hear you breaking. He stood there, hand pressed to the door until he heard your sobs subside and footsteps slowly walking away from the other side of the door. Only then did he leave you. His head felt heavy on his shoulders, weighed down with the guilt of what he had done. He loathed himself for hurting you like this.

And now, on Christmas Eve, he sat alone in the dorms listening to Christmas music in an attempt to cheer himself up but all he could think about was you. He knew you'd be alone too, cooped up in your apartment. You didn't spend Christmas with your family, all of them in various parts of the world. He wished he could be with you, like he had last year.

He missed holding you, the way your hair smelled as you snuggled on the couch together. He missed the way your lips had tasted of the candy canes you'd suckled on all evening. He missed the look of pure joy on your face when you had opened his gifts, completely blown away by the thought that had gone into each one.

That Christmas had been his favourite. And now... he felt lost.

He wanted you back, needed to talk hold you again. He couldn't move on, couldn't put his adoration for you to rest and oh, god he couldn't forgive himself for what he did.

He needed to see you.

In a split second he made his decision, switching the stereo off and crawling out of his bed to throw on some snow boots and a parka coat. He knew where you lived, remembered it well. He knew you'd be home on Christmas Eve, doing your usual little traditions like watching Home Alone with a hot cocoa.

He grabbed his phone and his keys and made his way out into the dark winter night, taking large determined steps in the snow.

It took him almost an hour to get to your apartment building, hopping on the subway to get to your side of town and walking the ten minutes from the station to your street. He stood at the door, finger hovering over the buzzer. He was shaking, whether from the cold or the nerves he couldn't tell but knew he was terrified. There was nothing to say that you wouldn't tell him to piss off again, but he had to at least try...

He pushed the buzzer, the noise arrogantly loud in the silence of the evening. He got no response, waiting patiently. He pushed it again and waited. Nothing.

He'd stand here all night if he had to. Looking up he saw your lights were on, knowing which windows were yours, so you had to be home...

He pushed it again, holding the button down longer this time. Nothing again.

Maybe you were in the bath; he knew you liked to have a good soak with all your bath bombs and bubble bath, candles lit and oils burning the night before Christmas; de-stressing before your favourite day of the year. Maybe you were in there?

He told himself he'd wait another ten minutes before trying again. He stood shaking in the cold, rubbing his hands together for some friction to heat the freezing skin. He should have worn gloves, but he wasn't thinking so logically this evening.

He pushed the buzzer again and again, still eliciting no response from you. Maybe you'd seen him out of the window and were choosing to ignore him. He sighed audibly, a puff of breath visible in the cold air and contemplated turning around and disappearing into the night again.

"Hobi?" a little voice questioned from behind him, not through the intercom but right there, a few meters away from him. He turned around to see you standing there in the snow, fluffy hood over your head and matching gloves over your hands. You were holding a tub of cocoa powder to your chest, cradling it like a newborn.

Your face flushed pink from the cold biting at the skin; adorably so. He missed that about you. You looked surprised, confused to see him stood outside your apartment building on Christmas eve.

"I-I... I was just, um... I saw your light on, I thought you were home," he stuttered, kicking the snow at his feet. You held up the cocoa in your hands, offering an explanation.

"I was out of cocoa..." He smiled fondly at you; you couldn't have Christmas eve without your cocoa.

A moment of silence passed over the two of you, neither one of you knowing what to say. You didn't know why he was here, but part of you was glad he was.

"Why are you here, Hoseok?" you dropped the pet name for him, simply calling him by his birth name. He hated when you did that, either mad at him or disappointed. He didn't know which you were feeling, and he didn't know which was worse.

"I just... um... I don't know this was stupid, I'm sorry," he shook his head, taking a step to leave. You clearly didn't want him here. You were still mad, you had to be. He couldn't blame you.

"Wait," you stepped towards him, just one little step, but he stopped immediately. His heart pounded in his ears, waiting for you to continue. "W-would you... like some cocoa? You look so cold..."

"I'd love some," he smiled, looking up at you. He took your breath away; really, he did. He was still just as handsome as ever, as charming. His hopeful little smile lit up his face to counteract the tired bags under his eyes from lost sleep and a warmth spread through your chest.

"Okay..." you stepped forward again, passing by him quickly to open the door to the complex. He stepped inside after you, the warmth of the building feeling like such an intense heat that his exposed nose and hands burned at the sensation. You jogged up the stairs, willing to get inside as fast as possible and stave off the awkward silence, replacing it with a movie or something; anything that meant that you didn't have to talk.

Because the second you talked, you'd tell him everything.

How much you missed him, how much you still loved him, how you spent every night alone and wishing you had done things differently all those months ago. You wondered if things would be different had you just told him how you were feeling, if you'd communicated rather than started make petty little comments.

But still, you weren't sure you had forgiven him. You were so angry that he betrayed you that way, that he completely broke the trust you had with him. Never did you think Hoseok would be the kind of man that would ever hurt you like that.

Your apartment looked exactly the same to him when he stepped in the door, still pristinely kept. You had decorated with tasteful Christmas ornaments, a beautiful tree in the corner draped in gold and red with twinkling lights amongst the branches.

You made your way into the little kitchen you had, pulling two mugs out of a cupboard and a saucepan to heat the milk in. You added a little extra cocoa than you normally would, knowing Hoseok had such a sweet tooth and preferred a rich cocoa. He stood and watched you in silence, leaning up against the counter island. He rubbed his hands together, blowing hot air onto them to fight the aching cold they had grown accustomed to.

With a little whipped cream and a handful of mini marshmallows, your masterpieces were complete. Hobi followed you to sit on your couch, mug in hand. Before he took a seat the pair of you shrugged off your parkas, throwing them over the back of the couch. He sat at the opposite end to you, watching as you tucked yourself back under the blanket you had discarded before you left.

You pressed play on the television, resuming the opening credits of Home Alone. Hoseok chuckled aloud.

"What's so funny?" you couldn't help but smile, his giggle infectious.

"Home Alone?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah... I watch it ev-"

"Every Christmas eve," he finished for you. You stared at him, blinking with a smirk on your face. "I knew you would."

"We all have our traditions," you shrugged, turning your attention to the television again.

A moment passed, Hoseok wondering if he should make conversation with you or just sit and watch the movie, grateful you hadn't turned him away with a slap to the cheek.

"How have you been, y/n?" he asked, nervous. He took a marshmallow from the top of the whipped cream peak on his mug and popped it in his mouth. You exhaled loudly; you suppose you had to talk about it eventually.

"Better, I guess," you shrugged. That was a lie. "You?" You looked up at him through your lashes.

His brow creased, his jaw tightening. Does he tell you the truth, about how he'd been completely devastated and ridden with guilt for the last two months?

"N-Not great..." he looked down at his lap, unable to hold eye contact with you. He tapped his foot on the floor, his knee bouncing anxiously.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No, don't apologise. You don't need to; for anything," he shook his head, still averting your gaze. "This was all me. I took you for granted and I-" he couldn't finish that sentence, nausea overwhelming him at the thought of that drunken night with a meaningless girl. "I do though, if you'll let me..."

You waited patiently for him to continue, willing him to say whatever he needed to. You were in the headspace to listen now.

"I don't know why things changed, or when. But I took you for granted, y/n. I expected too much from you and gave you nothing back and that's not fair. And then I blamed you for it, as if it was your fault at all. I got mad at you when you did to me what I was doing to you and I was too arrogant to see that I was the problem. And then I... I fucking ruined everything with my god damn stupidity. I don't know why I did it, but I was out of my fucking mind, y/n. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he babbled, telling you everything he had rehearsed in his head for weeks in one breath.

He looked up at you to see your eyes glistening with a wash of tears threatening to fall. You saw the vulnerability in him, and you hated it. You loved his confidence; it was one of the first things that attracted you to him. Seeing him so anxious and beaten down was killing you.

"I know you're not that person, Hobi," you spoke softly, the use of his pet name delicately soothing.

"Thank you... for seeing that, I mean. I don't expect you to forgive me I just, I wanted to at least try and tell you how sorry I am." A tear slipped down his cheek. It broke your heart. Hoseok never cried, you knew this. The last time being at the MAMA awards in Japan last year.

You reached forward, wiping the tear away with the cuff of your sleeve and sitting back, taking a sip of your cocoa. He smiled, picking his mug up from your coffee table and taking a sip himself. A thick moustache of whipped cream settled on his top lip, and you laughed aloud. He played it dumb, leaving it there and looking at you with confusion.

"What?" he asked. "What's so funny?" You giggled at the goofball; he always did stupid little thing like this to make you laugh. You reached forward again, swiping your finger over his top lip and gathering most of the cream on the tip of your finger, waving it at him before popping it in your mouth.

He laughed shyly, licking the rest of the cream from his top lip with his eyes watching for your reaction. He just wanted to see you smile, to rid your beautiful eyes of that glossy coating of tears. It seemed to work, but the pair of you couldn't tear your eyes away from each other.

Without thinking, he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing over your cheek so tenderly. He held his hand there, his thumb roaming back and forth over your cheek bone. He forgot how smooth your skin felt, how soft you were. It had used to drive him crazy.

You relaxed into his touch, your head leaning into his palm, eyes closing blissfully.

"I missed you..." he whispered like he didn't mean for you to hear it, but you did.

"I still miss you, Hobi..." you whined, looking up to him once again. He leaned forward, eyes dropping to your lips. God, he wanted to kiss them. He missed how you felt against his lips, how you tasted.

You willed him to follow his urges, to just lean in that little bit more and press his lips to yours. You wanted nothing more in that moment.

As if you were both linked by some form of mild telepathy, he did just that.

Your lips pressed together, barely touching but immediately you felt a spark; the same spark you had felt the first time you kissed him at the end of the very first date you had. You pushed yourself closer to him a little, relaxing against his lips and letting yourself enjoy the feeling again.

He pulled back slightly, his lips barely hovering over yours.

"I missed you," he repeated, his warm, chocolate flavoured breath spanning across the sensitive skin.

"I'm right here," you assured him, nuzzling your nose gently against his. He kissed you again, a little deeper this time. Carefully, you placed your mug of cocoa down on the coffee table and used your now free hands to fist the material of his hoodie and pull him a little closer to you. You sighed into his lips when his hand moved to the back of your neck, pressing you against him a little firmer.

It felt as if electric shocks were running down your spine in a regular current. Goosebumps raised on your skin at his touch, your whole body feeling so alive for the first time in so long. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins and before you knew it you found yourself pushing Hobi back against the couch, swinging your leg over his lap to straddle his thighs without ever disconnecting your lips.

His hands roamed to your waist, fingers pressing into you as he gripped you. On some level he was terrified to let you go in case you ran from him again. He wasn't sure he could cope with that.

"Do you love me, Hobi?" you asked him, lips brushing against the edge of his mouth.

"So much... I love you so fucking much, y/n," he didn't even think about it for a heartbeat; he didn't need to.

"Show me," you breathed against him, peppering open-mouthed kisses to his jawline and grinding your hips down against his own beneath you.

His hands lifted the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head when you lifted your arms for him. You did the same for him, peeling his hoodie off him, followed by his t-shirt. You writhed against him, both of you shirtless as your kisses turned more heated, sloppy.

You reached behind you, unclasping your bra and pulling it off your arms to discard it with the growing pile of clothing strewn across the couch. His hands felt hot against your back, pressing you chest-to-chest with him.

The heat of the kiss rose, Hobi using his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip and open you up to him. There was no battle for dominance, no fight between the both of you; you were just so desperate to taste each other again after so long.

Hobi dropped his hands to your thighs, still clad in the thick leggings you had worn to keep warm yet comfortable. He slid them underneath, using his strength to lift you and wrap your legs around his waist as he stood up. Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you as your lips worked together still.

He didn't need to be able to see to know where he was going as he carried you into your bedroom; he knew your apartment so well.

He lay you down on your bed, hovering over you and dragging his lips from yours, down your neck to suckle just above your collar bone where he knew you liked the feeling. He let his lips wonder down your chest, between your breasts and down to just above your belly button.

"Hobi..." you whined his name, blissfully engrossed in the feeling of his little wet kisses down your body. He tugged on your leggings, rolling them slowly down your hips as his mouth chased the lowering line of fabric. Just as he was about to expose you, he lifted his lips from your skin, instead focusing on pulling the leggings down your legs with your underwear in one smooth motion and throwing them to the floor.

And then his lips found your skin again, this time the inside of your thigh. He switched between nudging his nose against the flesh to peppering kisses and leaving a little wet trail up the skin. Your hands wound themselves in his hair just feeling how soft the slightly outgrown locks still were.

He let his kisses trail over your pubic bone, tickling you as he got closer and closer to your heat. The build-up to this moment had already had an effect on you, your folds glistening deliciously in front of Hoseok. He kissed the mound of your sensitivity, his eyes flickering back up to look at you to watch your reaction when he finally, slowly, nudged his tongue out past his lips to swipe over your slit.

A soft little moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as Hobi worked his magic on you. He knew what buttons to push, knew what each of your little reactions meant, knew exactly how to please you. His lips circled your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth, drawing a sharp moan from you and making your back arch from the mattress. Your hands weaved into his hair, pulling at it from the roots as you desperately clung onto him.

He loved the way you tasted, savouring it on his tongue. He was driving you crazy, working tirelessly to build the tension in your stomach, nerves tingling all through your body.

Your climax was heading towards you like a steam train about to plough off the rails, building and building so fast... You didn't want to cum like this, you wanted him to completely give himself over to you like he used to, to bring the two of you together.

"S-stop... Hobi, stop," you tapped your hand on his head, pushing him away from you. He sat up on his knees, confused and frankly, terrified. Had you changed your mind? Had you decided you didn't want him after all? Not even just this once?

You chuckled a little as the feeling in your pelvis receded. He was adorable, but you understood where his fear was coming from.

"No, I don't want you to stop. I just didn't wanna finish like that," you reached for the hem of his pants, pulling him by his hips towards you and crushing your lips to his. You could taste yourself, lingering. "Want you," you mumbled against his lips. "Want this," your hand lowered to the outline of him through his pants, hard and ready for you.

He pulled himself away from you, wanting nothing more than just what you were asking for. He shuffled himself out of the rest of his clothing, baring himself to you for the first time in so long. You'd almost forgotten the way he was so sculpted, head to toe. You traced your fingers from the dip in his collar bone, down the middle of his chest and across the dips of his abs and the distinct 'V' shape, finally grazing your fingers tips right to the end of his hardened length. He twitched beneath you, breath catching in his throat and you smiled cockily; you had him completely under your spell.

He crawled up to meet your lips with his own once again, hungry and needy for your affection. His hips pressed into yours, his member coating in your slick. He groaned against your lips, rocking up against you for the friction he craved. You simply spread your thighs a little wider, hands winding around his neck and inviting him in.

"Are you still on the pill?" he asked between kisses, remembering what your preferred method of birth control had been.

"Uh-huh," your voice sounded whiny, willing him to enter you already. "Please, Hobi..."

He dipped his head to look down between you as he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing the tip in just a little. He always knew to go slow with you at first; his size was above average and moving too quickly would be uncomfortable for you. You were grateful for his thoughtfulness, noticing each time he remembered something about you that you liked or didn't like. He hadn't forgotten, always had been paying attention.

Slowly, inch by inch, he filled you. The delicious stretch of your walls felt magical, a long and deep breath filling your lungs and your eyes rolling back into your head. Hobi didn't move for a moment, savouring the feeling of being completely enveloped in your warmth. But he couldn't ignore the way your hips grew impatient, raising marginally from the sheets to encourage him.

Drawing his hips back slowly felt sensational for you, every tiny little sensitive spot inside you igniting at the feeling. Hobi didn't want to rush; he wasn't sure how long this would last. This could be the last time he got the chance to make love to you, to show you how deeply he cared about you. For all he knew, you were just caught up in the moment and giving into the urges that everybody had here and there...

But this was so much more to you.

He pushed himself against you again, grinding his hips against you until he bottomed out completely and rocking back again.

"F-fuck..." he groaned, fingertips digging into your hips. His pace quickened a little, still dragging himself out of you slowly to relish the act. He felt so good, so completely vulnerable and yet willing to give you everything he had.

Your fingers played with the strands of his hair that tickled his neck, your nose pressed into his and eyes watching him with heavy lids. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, still rolling into you and sending wave after wave of bliss through you.

He couldn't keep himself from moving faster after a little while though, the need for both of you to reach your climax overpowering his desire to revel in the moment.

"God, I missed you," he breathed against your neck, his hot breath warming you to the core. You struggled to concentrate on him, the need to cum building so intensely that you were sure you wouldn't last much longer. "I've been so lonely, y/n... I was so fucking stupid," he gritted his teeth, ramming his cock into you now. His anger at himself and despair over losing you were propelling his drive.

"B-been lonely too," you stuttered, pulling him by his hair to look up into your eyes. "You hurt me, Hobi..." you said breathlessly with tears brimming in your eyes.

"I know... I know, and I – fuck – I'll never hurt you again I promise," his own eyes filled with tears. Sex had always been emotional to you, even when you didn't want it to be. It frustrated you to no end; sometimes you just wanted a good fuck with no emotion whatsoever. But tonight... Tonight it was needed. You need to get emotional with him.

You'd been holding yourself to a high standard of strength since the night you threw him to the curb, but it had taken his toll. You could only be so strong for so long, after all.

"I love you, y/n. I fucking love you, so much," he sobbed, ramming himself into you with such an intensity the room filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin.

"I know, baby... I know," you comforted him, whining and moaning as your orgasm approached. He pushed his lips to yours again with desperation, the salty taste of tears transferring to yours. "Shit, Hobi I'm gonna..." you couldn't finish your sentence, the words getting stuck in your throat as the world crashed down around you.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a roaring moan erupted from deep in your chest. Your hold on his hair tightened impossibly. Hoseok had to use all his strength to keep you from pulling his face down into your neck. You couldn't control it though, the intensity of your pleasure causing your limbs to spasm.

You contracted around Hobi, tightening and squeezing him from inside. It tipped him over the edge, a loud grunt vibrating through his chest as the warm spurts of cum filled you. He never stopped thrusting into you though, riding your high out with him as your pussy milked him for every last drop he had.

He lost his balance, falling to lay his head against your breast and slipping out of you, chest flat against you. The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, catching the breath you had lost together.

After regaining enough composure, your fingers loosened in his hair, now just fiddling with it absentmindedly. He loved the feeling, lying against you while you played with the strands. He didn't want to move, terrified to spoil the intimacy of the moment. You were content to let him lie there with you though, the two of you a sweaty mess of limbs.

"I love you too, Hobi," you confessed. It didn't feel like a confession though; it felt like you were telling him something you already knew.

He lifted his head, looking up at you.

"Y-you still...?"

"Of course. Believe me, if I could have switched it off, I would have the day I slammed the door in your face but..." you sighed, giving in. "But I adore you, Jung Hoseok. Despite everything, I still love you." Hot tears fell down the sides of your head, hitting the pillow below you.

He shuffled up the bed, hovering above you and wiping the tears as they fell.

"Why did you come here tonight, Hobi? Really..." you asked, needing an answer.

"Everyone went home for the holidays, I was sat alone in the dorm and thinking of you. How you'd either be in the bath surrounded by your potions to make you smell good or cover yourself in glitter or wrapped up on the couch watching Home Alone with your damn cocoa," he chuckled. "I missed you. Christmas has always been lonely for me and then I found you; someone to enjoy the holidays with. I just wanted to see you and I found myself walking over here..."

You smiled at him, running your thumb over his cheek.

"I don't want you to be alone on Christmas, Hobi," you sympathised. "Stay; I was going to cook for myself tomorrow anyway. But it makes very little sense for two people who love each other to spend Christmas Day alone, don't you think?" Your question didn't need an answer, but he gave one anyway.

"Very little sense..." he repeated, placing his lips to your forehead and lingering a second longer than deemed normal.

Last Christmas had been so perfect, spent with you in your apartment just relaxing and enjoying each other's company. There was now absolutely no reason at all that this Christmas couldn't be just as wonderful.

Talking could wait, not that there was any need. He knew it would take you time to trust him again, but you also knew that you had forgiven him. The healing process could begin, both of you learning from the mistakes made and growing stronger from them.

For now, you both still loved each other. That was enough.

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llodblinky · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

Tch, a simple job huh? What kind of simple job leads to a hostage situation!?

Llod had taken up a job just to make ends meet, all he had to do was pick up Julianna’s niece and bring her to the marked residence. A young Vieran girl, about 11, with auburn eyes and black-tipped ears named Ysera. She’s staying with a family friend of her’s at Camp Drybone to the east. Llod sets out to retrieve her, he needs sustenance after not eating for the last two days after all. He sets out for Eastern Thanalan to escort Ysera to her aunt.

Meanwhile, Cirina sets out with Perimu on investigating a lead they were given regarding the so-called ‘benefactor’ of this shadow group they’ve been tailing since Limsa. From what they were able to gather so far it’s that he’s at least a member of Thanlan’s wealthiest citizens. They’ve ruled him out as a member of The Syndicate, but with his friends set on destroying Limsa they can’t let him continue. They set out for The Silver Bazaar in the western region to gather what other information they can.

X’tolzia is in the midst of furthering her training, Hamon Holyfist sent her to the eastern region to seek out her path and strengthen her mind. X refuses to train under weaker conditions, constantly pushing her body to the breaking point. Moving rocks on her back three times her mass, punching holes in these same rocks with her bare hands and not settling unless she punched holes clean through. Sometimes she’d be found by the townsfolk nearly passed out from exhaustion. She’s as stubborn as she is strong, and fails to understand this being too prideful to admit it.

Upon his arrival, Llod doesn’t even know where to begin looking for the girl, as Julianna didn’t specify where in Drybone she was staying. Time to search around and ask the locals, good thing not many Viera live in Thanalan’s territories so it’d at least be easy to spot Ysera. After hours of searching and asking around, Llod decides to retire to the inn and try again the next day. On his way, he noticed some unsavory characters walking through the middle of town and in their midst noticed a set of odd long ears. Is that the Vieran girl Ysera!? He thought to himself, and proceeded to follow them. What were they after? Why would they have her with them? And furthermore who are they?

“Why we gotta do this grunt work? I hate watching over kids.”

“How else are we gonna get the artifact without drawing unneeded attention to ourselves? We trade the girl for what her momma’s in possession of and we head back to the boss. Simple as that.”

What the hell are they talkin about? Llod continued following them, but felt uneasy whilst doing so. Not for fear of being found, but it seemed he was also being followed. He couldn’t tell who she was, but never lost track of her since she wasn’t doing such a great job of being hidden. After they stopped, Llod continued to spy on them and figure out a way to safely get Ysera out of their hands. But soon the mysterious woman attempted to attack him while his guard was down, unaware that was his intention. He clutched her arm and restrained her against the boulder he was hiding behind. Ttelling her to keep quiet while she struggled intensely in his grasp, he pulled down her hood and saw it was the woman from the coliseum whom he had fought, X’tolzia.

He again asked her to remain quiet, he’s on a job and a little girl may be in harms way. X’tolzia relaxed and he released her, then he explained what he had overheard.

“Jeez, it seems I can’t keep from finding trouble.” X’tolzia remarked

“Well you did attack me first off, second, I’m not gonna ask for your help. This is my job and I’ll see her safe to her aunt.” Llod explained. He didn’t want to put someone else in danger and was more than ready to deal with them on his own. But she smirked and wasn’t willing to back down.

“Oh c’mon, I can’t just leave now when you said there was an innocent girl involved. I’ve got sisters, and I’d give my life to protect them, safe to say I’d do the same for that girl over there.” She said with a smile strewn over her face. “You’d also do better with an extra set of hands, ‘specially when someone is offerin. And when all is said and done, I want a rematch you hear me?”

Llod was a bit taken aback from her resolve mixed with the battle invitation. He simply nodded with a slight smile. Together they continued tracking this group, seeing one break off for Ul’dah most likely to make the exchange offer. Coming to an end at the Sultanna tree, they took in their strengths and weaknesses and began formulating a plan to free the girl.

Soon afterwards a man along with a woman arrived, Llod recognizing her as Julianna, the same woman who had asked him to bring her niece safely to her. They had very little time to do something now and time was waning. During their planning, multiple small explosions were heard near the exchange and smoke littered the area. Two masked brigands wielding daggers dashed toward the smoke, their motives unknown. X’tolzia caught a glimpse of the eyes of one of them before they had vanished within the smoke, and she began to shake. C-Cirina!? What in the seven hells is she doing here!?

Some odd hours ago, Cirina and Perimu had been gathering intel at The Silver Bazaar where they hoped to gain more info on the mysterious benefactor. While asking around, Cirina noticed a Lalafel and Hyuran man conversing rather suspiciously as the Lalafel was looking around quite often. She moved closer under the guise of shopping for food and overheard some of what they were discussing.

“My men are grabbing the girl as we speak, just make sure that once the exchange is made you can move it with non the wiser. The captain will take care of the rest.”

“Are you absolutely sure my involvement will be unknown should this plan backfire?” The Lalafel remarked.

“Backfires? You really think we’re gonna fail? Hahahaa, oh that’s rich. If we thought it would we wouldn’t commit so wholeheartedly as we have. Just keep your end of the deal and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” The Hyuran was mighty stoic in this plan. Whatever it was, at least now Cirina and her companion could figure some of the finer details out. After the Hyuran departed, she found Perimu and informed him of what she had heard. They couldn’t let him slip away and began tailing him at once until he was alone, they cornered him and demanded he spill his guts over this whole conspiracy he was backing.

“I-it wasn’t my idea, I was just asked for money to support it. And in return I’d be welcomed with untold fortunes. I swear, that’s all!”

“What’re they after, friend? What’s so important that they’d need a harmless little girl?”

“Well, y-you see, her family unknowingly is in possession of a relic that when combined with two others can wreak devastating power, much like an enormous cannon blast or bomb. They call it the Black Sarcophagus and already have the other two pieces.”

“And once they gather this last one they’ll be able to ‘liberate’ Limsa is that it? But why attack it?”

“They’d have to strike a key structure, really hurt the forc-......THE COMMAND CENTER!! They’ll blow Merlwyb’s command center to the sun, and cause most of Limsa to crumble and sink!”

“We better hurry and save that girl then if we wanna keep the piece out of their hands! C’mon Perimu.” Cirina took command of the two and headed to Eastern Thanalan to find this girl and make sure she was safe.

They traveled as fast as they could only to discover that they were too late, the girl was already taken by several men claiming to be taking her to the aunt in Ul’dah. They learned the group had headed towards Central Thanalan and they made haste to catch up with them. Asking around Camp they found out that a group with a young Vieran girl headed southward, thanking the kind man they set out again as dark was beginning to fall. At least it’d be easier to free her under the shadows of night. On their way they noticed a blank faced man with a woman who looked like she was sobbing carrying something wrapped in cloth.

“Perimu, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Mhmm, that must be the last piece for the Black Sarcophagus.”

They tracked the two all the way to the Sultana Tree and saw the rest of his friends and the girl they took. Seeing they were starting the trade, the two seized the opportunity to strike while their guards were down. Tossing a couple of smoke bombs near Ysera, Perimu moved to get her to safety and Cirina would stall the men.

Taking advantage of the situation, Llod and X’tolzia made their move.

“I’ll grab Julianna and get her to safety, you help that girl with those guys, I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

“You got it Llod, just don’t keep a girl waiting k?”

He smiled and the two went to work, with him grabbing the woman by her arm and escorting her to safety some distance away.

“My niece, where is she!? You said you’d bring her to me safely!”

Then Perimu appeared relinquishing Ysera to her aunt, and asked Llod what he was doing here.

“Well this is quite the crazed situation ain’t it? Perimu’s the name, sorry your family got involved miss. And what’s yours friend?”

“I’m Llod, I gotta head back and help those two. Can you watch over them for me?”

“Are me stabbers as sharp as the finest Lominsan steel? Of course, you just make sure Cirina’s okay for me alright?”

With a nod Llod rushes back into the fray to help X’tolzia and Cirina deal with those men as they were outnumbered four to one. After returning he sees half the men on the floor, but the girls are looking exhausted.

(fill this with part of the battle)

“Sorry I’m late X’tolzia! But it seems like you didn’t really need any after all.”

“Are you kidding, with my sis by my side how could I lose? But introductions will have to wait, we’re not done just yet.”

Even with X’tolzia and Cirina slowing from exhaustion, together the three of them can manage the remaining enemies.

In a flash, Cirina is struck in the side of the head by a thrown hammer and sent tumbling toward the Sultana Tree. Unconscious, Llod an X look over to see a towering brute of a Roegadyn as dark as the night sky.

“I-it’s the boss, Aisibhir Badwind!”

The duo are shocked and their fears only further rise as he begins to approach. He let’s out a menacing chuckle.

“Bah ha ha hahaha, these are the ones that have caused a delay in our negotiations are they? Well, alls the pity to have to spill blood needlessly eh boys?”

He reaches for his axe and lunges for Llod. He barely manages to get out of the way in time, Aisibhir’is great strength splitting the ground with ease, stepping forward and spinning going for Llod a second time. Bracing and standing his ground, Llod takes the blow guarding with his shield.

X’tolzia leaps up behind him and delivers multiple strikes to the brute’s backside. Enraged, he pushes off of Llod’s shield and mule kick’s X’tolzia right in her chest and she is sent flying into the Sultana Tree, landing beside Cirina. The remaining members of Aisibhir’s group surround Llod leaving him no room to escape. The behemoth of a Roegadyn turns toward Llod and cackles to himself.

“There’s nowhere to run boy, you can always surrender. I’ll end your life quickly if you do, and I promise the girls will come to no harm. Might even fetch a nice price too.

“Piece of-...”

Laughing and cackling breaks out among the other goons, mocking their futile resistance.

Another set of blasts go off around Llod and the other men, blinding everyone. Two agonizing squeals are heard right before Llod is quickly pulled out by a Miqo’te dressed similarly to Cirina.

“H-hey, who are-”

“No time to talk, just hurry and follow me!”

Llod sharply looks toward the Sultana Tree for X’tolzia and her sister Cirina, only to see that they’re both gone. He turns back to the mysterious woman and nods, following her safely out of Aisibhir’s clutches.

She leads him to a nearby cavern where the others are waiting. Another mystery man is also here along with everyone else, after some discussion, it’s revealed that the two are Jacke, the head of the Rogue Guild of Limsa Lominsa, and V’kebbe, a member of the guild. Perimu and Llod share information with everyone as to what had transpired this day, and Jacke grows more worried.

“I see, I apologize for letting this situation get out of hand here Llod, but something is troubling me still. Miss Julianna, the item you were to exchange, do you still have it?”

She reaches into her satchel, trying to find it, but comes up empty handed. “I...I must have dropped it somehow in all the confusion! I’m so terribly sorry everyone.”

“Damn, that’s a huge problem alright but it can wait for a bit. Right now we need to get these two to a doctor. I trust you can show us to a good one in Ul’dah then Llod?”

“Of course, let’s hurry.”

Julianna approaches Llod alond with Ysera, “Llod...please forgive my outburst earlier. You put yourself in harms way to save my little girl and I’m grateful for that. Thank you.”

Ysera looks up at Llod, “Thank you mister.”

Llod smiles at them, taken back a bit “N-no need to apologize ma’am ehehe. Just doing my job and what’s right afterall. Would you mind helping us with our friends?”

“Of course! Come Ysera.”

The group haul X’tolzia and Cirina to Ul’dah with all haste and bring them to the healers in town. Meanwhile, Aisibhir after taking account of the casualties he’s suffered, notices a dark black figure in the dirt near the Sultana Tree. Picking it up, he grins to himself and orders his remaining men to leave the bodies and head back to the ship.

“Soon, Limsa will be free again.”

End Chapter 1

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excelxiors · 5 years

Text

comforting lies; boreo; 1.9k

so uhh i have never written anything in my life but i was possessed to write a boreo fic and here it is

tw// suicidal thoughts & actions

At the time, it had felt like an endless succession of nights spent together, bleeding into one another until I couldn’t tell the days apart. Squished together on my too small twin mattress, our limbs tangled together, the smell of stale beer in the air, and Boris’ eyes on me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He was staring at me because he was afraid. Afraid of the things I would do and afraid of the places my mind might take me. My eyes were on him too, but for different reasons. When he was asleep, I stared at him with a strange mix of jealousy and desire, simply because I had never met someone so beautiful and so feral and so raw. He was careless and free; everything I wished I was, and everything I knew I could never be.

I don’t remember all the nights, but with little reminders from Boris now, I remember more and more of them. I’d beg him to leave me in the street to die, to let me jump from the roof, to let me drink myself to death. He’d put his arms around me and hold me tight, telling me that it was okay, that it wasn’t my fault she had died. Comforting lies. After coaxing me back inside from the street or from the roof at some ungodly hour, we’d lay in bed together and finally, I’d be able to sleep. So many nights I fell asleep with his arms around my waist and his face in my neck, that once I left Vegas I had been unable to sleep well for weeks. I tossed and turned in bed, looking for the boy that I would not find again for many years.

One of those many nights saw me predictably upset and characteristically suicidal. It was well past midnight and we had been drinking and smoking for hours. The inebriation amplified my predictable upset mood and characteristic suicidal thoughts and tendencies, though I have never once even tried to stop self medicating since Boris introduced me to the feeling all those years ago. We had been walking around my neighborhood in the dark, no adults to tell us we needed to get a good nights sleep for school in the morning. My dad and Xandra would disappear for days at a time, leaving Boris and I alone without supervision, which was just how we liked it. We had walked relatively far from the house, coming up to a major road that was mostly empty (due to the hour of night) but still peppered with the occasional car. The vastness of the desert, the thought that I was so far from my home, and the unbearable feeling that I had been the reason my mother was gone suddenly hit me with more force than any car on that mostly empty street could. I began, at first, to cry, turning my face away from Boris so he wouldn’t see. Boris, though, always somehow attune to my emotions even blackout drunk or high out of his mind, turned to follow me, asking “Potter, what is wrong?” in a soft and slurred voice.

I couldn’t walk away from him and I couldn’t ignore him, not when we were the only 2 people on the street and we had walked all this way together. “It’s my fault she’s dead, Boris,” was all I could get out before my tears turned into sobs.

“No, Potter!” Boris answered. “How many times have I said this? You could not have known and you did not set off that bomb. Is not your fault, Potter!”

“You tell me that to try and make me feel better, but you know it is.” I began to run towards the street. “You lie to me and tell me it’s not my fault but you know if it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t even have been there!”

“Potter, come back. We will go back to the house and sleep. Please calm yourself, Potter. Is okay!” He sounded frantic, then. His voice became fast and the slurred speech that I had previously heard seemed to be gone. He had sobered up in an instant.

It was at that point that I did what I had done many times. Once I was at the center of the street, I collapsed, laying down on the cold asphalt and sobbing “Leave me here, Boris. Leave me here to die. I don’t want to go back, I just want to die here.” I had meant every word of it, too. If you had asked me then whether or not I wanted to die, the answer would have been that I did. I was so desperate to see my mother, and so wracked with the guilt of her death, that given the option, I would have lied in that street until a car came and ran me over. At least then, I could be with her forever. Boris, however, didn’t seem fond of that option.

“Please, Potter. Stop this,” he begged.

I couldn’t stop. Once the tears started, they didn’t stop, and once I began to sob, my breaths became more and more erratic. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was pounding in my chest, and Boris was standing above me, seemingly afraid for the first time in his life. I rarely saw him afraid, but the look in his eyes was undoubtedly worry. “I wanna die,” I said again, in gasping breaths and through the tears and sobs that had overtaken me.

“Theo, please.” That had gotten my attention. Boris never called me Theo, and hearing my name did something to me that is still hard to explain. It didn’t make me want to die any less, but it did give me the impression that maybe Boris cared about me more than I had previously thought. I knew back then, of course, that he cared about me. He wouldn’t have spent every waking hour with me if he didn’t. But the hurt in his voice and the way he had said my name knocked me out of my black hole of upset and back into reality. “Come, Potter,” he whispered, holding his arms out to me. I stood up, and before anything else, he pulled me out of the street and back onto the empty path we had taken from my house. Once he knew we were safe, he wrapped his bony arms around me and held tight. “You scare me, Potter,” was the last thing he whispered into my ear before we walked back home in silence.

Once we had gotten back to the house, Boris convinced me that a shower would make me feel better. I didn’t want to argue with him, and because of the embarrassment I felt at the way I had acted in the previous hour, I went into the bathroom without a word and turned the water on. The water was hot and my tears were hot and I prayed that Boris couldn’t hear me crying. I waited until the tears stopped before getting out of the shower and changing. Others were afraid of Boris. They saw a bad kid, nothing but trouble that should be avoided at all costs. I was never afraid of Boris, but I was afraid of what he’d think of me when he saw me like this.

Boris was laying on my bed, a tangle of sheets and the blanket and his body. It looked warm, and he beckoned for me to come. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, breathing in and out deeply before whispering “I’m sorry, Boris.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Potter. Is not your fault she died, but is also not your fault you feel the way you do. Come.” He scooted over in bed, making enough room for me to lie down. The bed was small, though, so regardless of how we positioned our bodies I could always feel the warmth radiating off him. I laid next to him so that we were facing each other. He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer, and with his other tenderly touched my face with a gentleness that I could hardly stand. Boris was generally anything bur gentle, so the gesture felt to me like it meant more somehow. “You are too hard on yourself.” His voice was quiet, as if he was trying not to wake someone. There was no one in the house but us.

“It feels pointless. There’s no reason to live anymore,” I answered. Tears were beginning to well up again, and I choked them back as I added “Nobody loves me now that she’s gone.” It felt odd to say. She was my everything, the only reason I had wanted to stay alive as a child. My father clearly didn’t care enough to stay, and even now he would leave me alone for days at a time. I had no extended family and Xandra was not a parental figure by any stretch of the word.

��Is not true, Potter.” Boris smiled. “Popchyk loves you,” he laughed, showing his crooked and yellowed teeth. This had gotten me to smile through my tears, though it didn’t make me feel much better. “And I love you. Sérce moje.” He ran his thumb up and down my cheek. It seemed like something a boy might do to his girlfriend, but it felt nice nonetheless.

“You do?” I asked, bewildered.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he responded quickly, as if it were obvious. Now that he had said it, I think he felt somewhat embarrassed about the confession.

“I love you, too.” I blurted it out before I could stop myself, and Boris grinned at me.

My face was still in his hands, and just as gently as he had stroked my cheek he put his lips to mine. It was startling and unexpected, his lips chapped and his mouth tasting like beer. But it was Boris. Boris’ mouth on mine. The kiss didn’t last long. It was soft and gentle and not anything too mind blowing, but it was nice. I felt, at once, as if maybe someone in the world cared for me. We fell asleep holding one another, my face in Boris’ neck and his face in my hair. We woke up tangled together, and didn’t speak about the events of the night before.

Eventually, the endless succession of nights ended. I didn’t wake up with my limbs tangled with Boris’, the smell of him on my clothes and his breath on my neck. He was in Las Vegas and I was in New York, thousands of miles away. But now, looking back, I think maybe his eyes were on me out of more than just fear. He was afraid, sure. Who wouldn’t be afraid for a kid who laid in the street begging for death? I looked at Boris because I loved him, though I was loathe to admit it back then. Everything about him made my heart race, from his curly dark hair to his crooked teeth to his accent (mostly Eastern European but not entirely). But I like to think that maybe I made his heart race too. I like to think that maybe he wasn’t telling me one of his comforting lies when he said those three words: I love you.

read on ao3

#the goldfinch #boreo #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #fanfic

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raewinncreates · 5 years

Text

Failings - Ignis x POC!Reader

Word Count: 2453 Content Warnings: Dysfunctional relationship, angst, alcohol use, smut

Ignis was late.

Again.

You really should have expected it by now. You knew his devotion to the Crown Prince ran deep; probably far deeper than his feelings for you could ever run. And that stung.

Ignis was always known for his punctuality when it came to work, but it always seemed like his relationship with you sat on the back burner of his mind and it was about time for the pot to boil over yet again.

You hated fighting with him; non-confrontational was your middle name. But you felt you had to fight for the sake of your relationship. Neither of you wanted to leave, but you both knew it wasn’t healthy for you to fight as often as you did. You never got physical with each other, but each battle of sharp words left another dagger stuck in the back of your mind, just waiting for him to drive it deeper and deeper until you finally broke down and ended it.

You sighed and checked your phone, frustration getting the better of you when you saw Ignis had, once again, ignored your texts, leaving you on read. Huffing in resentment, you fought the impulse to launch your phone into the wall and just tossed it onto the couch, moving to the kitchen to pack up the now-cold dinner you’d made for the two of you.

Eyes drifted to the bottle of wine chilling in the fridge as you stuffed the leftovers in the back. If he wants to eat, he can find dinner on his own, you thought, pettiness filling your mind. Fuck it, you thought again, grabbing the unopened wine bottle and corkscrew. If he’s not here, I don’t have to share. You kicked the fridge door shut and stomped over to the master bathroom, wrenching the faucet to near boiling, dropping a bath bomb in the tub, oils and glitter dispersing under the run of water. Deft hands quickly yanked the cork out of the bottle and you immediately took a huge swig, savoring the alcohol as the slight burn tugged at your throat.

You set the bottle down next to the tub and stripped, running into the bedroom to grab a book before slowly lowering yourself into the just below boiling water. You winced but also slowly started to relax, your mind focusing on the novel you’d been dying to finish for the last week while draining the bottle, letting the alcohol cloud your mind. All in an attempt to forget the failed dinner date between yourself and Ignis.

The alcohol soaked into you quickly, the heat of the bath affecting your tolerance and before you knew it, most of the bottle was gone and you’d forgotten all about the man who lived with you. Forgotten that he would come home at some point during the evening.

After a long while soaking your aching body in the tub, the water finally started cooling and you flicked the drain, letting the water slip out. You hoisted yourself out of the tub, stumbling slightly and letting out a slight curse. You took a quick look at yourself in the mirror and smiled crookedly; you’d always enjoyed this particular bath bomb. The golden glitter was a pain in the ass, ‘craft herpes’ as your friends called it, but it always made your dark skin look more radiant and you almost always were in a better mood after using it.

Almost.

The door opened and closed silently, Ignis slipping inside your shared apartment under the assumption you were already asleep. He’d finally gotten a free moment from his duties to the crown and responded to your texts, only to find them completely ignored. And given the late hour, he figured sleep claimed you while waiting for him. Once again.

He sighed, knowing that once you woke up there would be another argument, another time he would say something harsher than he intended and breaking your heart in another little way. He wondered how you could put up with him when all he ever did was hurt you; he wondered when your heart would finally shatter and you would leave him.

Ignis knew he would deserve it; he’d never deserved you by his side in the first place.

Looking around your shared apartment, the lights were still on in the kitchen and living room which was unusual if you’d decided to go to bed. You were normally pretty good about turning things off before turning in for the night. Unless you were severely distracted by something else, which seemed to be the case. Dropping his valise beside the couch, he saw your phone laying on the cushions and clicked the lock button once, taking note of all the latest unread notifications on the screen, including his last texts to you.

His ears perked slightly when he heard light splashing sounds from the bathroom and slight mutters reached him shortly after. So you weren’t just yet asleep; probably almost ready though. He hated thinking it, but if you had already fallen asleep then there wouldn’t be the incoming argument that he knew would burst forth once he stepped foot in your shared bedroom.

Ignis sighed and gripped your phone, taking it with him and plugging it into the charger on your side of the bed. He shucked off his gloves, placing them on his bedside table before slipping out of his shoes and setting them in the walk-in closet. A click of the bathroom door made his head instinctively turn your way and immediately he averted his eyes as he saw your nude form emerge from the bathroom. He did notice the empty wine bottle swinging from your hand before he turned away.

“So, what was it this time?” your voice slurred with drink. “His Royal Highness need a bedtime story? To be tucked in all nice and cozy before your day was over?” You were being petulant and unfair but fuck it, you were drunk and pissed that yet another date night of yours had been ruined by Ignis’ unceasing devotion to his job. Realizing you were still holding the bottle, you frowned and dropped it in the trash bin next to your bedside table. You silently noted your phone was now charging. Well at least he’s being thoughtful about something, you thought while rolling your eyes.

“A council meeting that ran far too late, actually,” he replied tersely, his clipped tone telling you that he didn’t want to deal with another argument. “The discussions regarding the treaty Niflheim put forward recently have been…tense as most council members are not a fan of the way His Majesty is seemingly acquiescing to their demands.” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes avoiding your form as you walked into the closet in front of him, and started dressing in your nightclothes.

“Oh yes, because going along with what the damn Nifs put forward is going to be the best thing for all of us,” you muttered under your breath, still loud enough that Ignis could hear you.

He let out a sharp sigh and stood up, blocking your exit from the closet. “Out with it, Y/N; I know you’re not angry at His Majesty. Let’s just get it out and over with.”

You stared up at him indignantly, your eyes darkening with anger. “Alright, fine! I’ve had a shitty week at work. I’ve been accused by a client of sleeping with her ex-husband, a teenager went missing only to find her at her parent’s house that we removed her from months ago, and another client came to us about how she was being assaulted and raped by her boyfriend. We’ve been planning this date for the last three weeks and for all the Astrals sakes I needed ‘us time’ this week. And the FUCKING NIFS and FUCKING ROYALS ruin it. EVERY! DAMN! TIME!” You poked him in the chest for emphasis and slipped under one of his arms, stalking toward your side of the bed.

Now that you’d finally gotten your vent out your anger completely dissipated, shoulders slumping as you sat and buried your face in your hands. “One night, Ignis. That’s all I wanted. All I needed.” A weak sob and whimper left you, “And you couldn’t even do that for me.”

Ignis sighed and ran a hand through his hair, messing up his normally perfect spiked hairstyle, a few strands falling into his eyes. He walked over toward you, a hand gently touching your shoulder waiting to see if you would shy away from or lean into the touch. Surprisingly, you did nothing, not even a flinch at the sudden contact. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He deflated slightly at your immediate scoff. “I don’t want to fight again, especially when you’re drunk and tired. It’s not going to solve anything-”

“I don’t want to fight either but it always ends up like this, Ignis!” You wrapped your arms around his waist, chin pressing against his breastbone as you looked up at him. “We fight, you promise to do better, we make up, and it repeats over and over again. Ignis, why do we keep doing this?”

Tears streamed down your face, hiding them in his chest. You hated him seeing you like this, like you were weak and useless compared to his ever-present competence and outwardly tranquil countenance. “We both know this isn’t right; that this isn’t healthy. We should…” your voice trembled, not wanting to say it but knowing it had to be said. “We should end this…us…It’s not fair to either of us, the way we are constantly fighting, constantly hurting each other.”

Your words, however, belied your actions as your face was still buried in his chest, hands clinging to his jacket. Despite all your difficulties as a couple, you still loved him. And you knew you would always love him.

Ignis’ heart shattered in that moment. He’d always assumed he would be the one to break your heart in the end, but surprisingly, it was you. Rationally, he knew you were right; he knew that nothing about your relationship in this moment was healthy.

But he could fix it, couldn’t he? He could try.

He shook his head, chin brushing against the crown of your head. “No,” he whispered. “No, Y/N, I don’t accept that this is the end. We can salvage this; I know it.” His hand reached up and grasped your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, eyes blotchy and swollen from tears. The glitter on your exposed skin caught his eye, shining like stars against the dark expanse of your skin, like the galaxies that spun endlessly above them in the dark night sky.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing it, but I love you, Y/N, with all my heart.” Ignis dropped to his knees and brushed his nose up against yours. “I’m sorry for tonight. I need to be better about keeping you in the loop about what’s going on with work.” His lips were close enough to yours to kiss, but he didn’t want to press your boundaries. He was still unsure if you would forgive him or not this time around.

But forgive him you did. You always did. Because you loved him.

So with tears still seeping from the corners of your eyes, you shifted slightly, slanting your lips against his in a soft and gentle kiss. He returned it with quiet ardency, not pushing any further than you wished to go. And though the alcohol in your system was probably dulling your senses a bit, you still wanted to feel him; you needed the ignorant bliss and pleasure that he and only he could pull out of you.

“I’m sorry too, Ignis,” you murmured, breaking the kiss. You ghosted your lips across his jaw, placing butterfly kisses on his pale skin. “I shouldn’t blame you; I know your job comes first. It always has. We just…we both need to be better on the communication front, right?” You felt him nod, his own lips grazing against your neck, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up and a soft moan escaping your throat.

“Iggy, please…” you gasped, hands pushing off his jacket and fingers reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “I think we both…nngh…just need to forget this week right now. I need you.”

Ignis could smell the alcohol on your breath and saw the bottle laying in the trash out of the corner of his eye. “Are you certain, love?” he asked, his words unsure. “I don’t want either of us to regret this in the morning.” He nudged your face with his nose again, urging you to look him in the eyes.

Your dark eyes met his own, not blown wide with lust just yet, but almost on the cusp. “Yes, Ignis. I’m sure.” Your hands grasped his face tilting it up and you pressed your lips against his roughly, taking control of the kiss, your tongue thrusting into his mouth with abandon.

Time flowed by quickly, like water bursting from a dam and you let Ignis and his overwhelming presence wash over you. Tongues and teeth and lips clashing, nipping and biting across expanses of skin that were slowly exposed inch by inch. Fingers danced upon pale and dark skin, intertwining and twisting and pinching and pulling. Chests heaved, backs arched, legs tangled, both of you losing yourselves in ecstasy, forgetting the heartaches and stresses of the last few weeks. It had been a while since the two of you were able to make love and now you knew you were both making up for it tenfold.

Murmurs of affection and adoration spilled from both your lips when they weren’t attached to each other, repeating apologies and affirmations of your love. Every stroke, every thrust, every arch and moan was slow, long, and languid as if taking your time with each other could make up for the long days and nights when you weren’t able to express these feelings. It was a marathon, slow and steady, a constant climb up to the precipice and then - a jerk, a thrust, a sudden fall into blissful oblivion that took you both.

Disentangling your limbs, Ignis pulled you close to him before pulling up the covers over your naked bodies. “I’m sorry, love,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, leaving soft kisses along the lines of your throat and shoulder. “This is all my fault; I’ll do better - I promise.”

“That’s all I’m asking for Iggy,” you murmured, eyes drooping shut as sleep claimed you both.

I can only pray you keep that promise this time.

#fanfiction #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ignis scientia #ignis stupeo scientia #my writing #repost of old work

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wandering-thoughts-lost-voice · 7 years

Text

Under Mechanical Hearts

Chapter 3.0

Last Night...

"Who throws a party for someone who died?" I muttered to myself. I was sitting on a couch on the roof of that said party with a sprite in my hand and yes you read that correctly. Some people were rich enough to have patios on their roof while I struggled to find enough quarters in my wallet to buy a bag of chips from the vending machine at school. Anyway, back to me being at the party I was complaining about, hypocritical I know, but it was either this or having my thoughts torture me all night. I mean, the deceased was my best friend.

"Leave it to you to find a hideout," Dylan joined me on the couch, a fresh smile on his lips. "I was starting to think you went home."

"Trust me I thought about it," I sighed, "But this beats the alternative."

"Yeah..." he trailed off before things fell completely silent between us. Childish Gambino's 3005 filled the heavy quietness. I'll be right by your side till 3005, hold up. There was never a day I thought this song could bring me such gloom, but it did.

"Why did you throw this party?" I slouched down on the couch, making myself more comfortable. I could never keep my cool around Dylan for long, I liked to think that making my heart do summersaults was his superpower. "Doesn't seem like something you'd do."

Mirroring my actions, he slouched down too, "I didn't plan any of this, it was Nora."

I rolled my eyes, "Nice to know she's empathetic."

I could see him shrug from the corner of my eye while he brushed his hand forward over his hair. "She said it was to celebrate Maci's life."

"Are you sure it wasn't just an excuse to get wasted on a school night?" I turned to look at him. "Does she even know how Maci died? She was heading home from a party just like this one."

"Nora has good intentions," he defended her. "I've been doing pretty bad lately and she just wanted to cheer me up."

"Okay, but do you think this is what Maci would want?" I countered.

"I don't know what Maci would want and neither do you," his eyes found mine. Sounding annoyed he told me, "It makes no difference anyway because she's not here."

I rested my laced fingers on my stomach, changing my focus to the stars above, I said, "You're right."

"I'm sorry," he exhaled. "I didn't mean to--"

"No, you're right," I cut him off. "I obviously didn't know what she wanted if I didn't see her suicide coming."

"Reese," he called my name. "No one saw it coming. Not my parents, not me, no one."

"But I was her best friend, Dylan," I sat up, peering over at him. "We told each other literally everything." I could feel my heart hurting with each beat, "She never said she was unhappy, but I should've known, I--I should've been there to stop her." The calm before the storm passed and eventually, I felt it. I heard my mouth thunder with sobs, my heart lightninged with pain, my eyes rained. "I messed up. I--"

"You didn't mess up," concern twisted his mouth into a frown. "There was no way you could've known," he inched closer to me, wrapping me in his arms while his voice softened, "I may not know if Maci wanted this party or not, but I know she wouldn't want her best friend crying her eyes out."

Eventually, he released me from the hug and examined my eyes. "I know it's hard, but you're not alone," he wiped my tears with the long sleeve of his shirt. His eyes stayed locked on me for a while as he searched my face for any more signs of sorrow. Meeting my eyes again, he smiled weakly, but it disappeared just as it came. I could feel myself holding my breath because things suddenly felt monumental between us.

Gently, Dylan's hand rose to my cheek. Fall was already here, and even though there was a chill in the air I was burning up. Gazing into his eyes, I noticed that there was a void behind them, a void created by Maci's absence. My heart broke all over again in that moment because the last time I saw Dylan cry was at Maci's funeral about a year ago. I wondered how he coped with things, how he went home and passed Maci's room every day without falling apart. I lost my best friend, but he lost his little sister.

A fresh tear escaped down my cheek, but Dylan brushed it away with his thumb immediately. Leaning closer, he shut his eyes and I followed his lead until our lips met. The kiss was light and brief, a simple graze of his lips against mine, but the feelings it stirred up was immense.

He broke away for a moment, registering the huge act. Then, he plunged towards me, kissing me with more force. Holding onto the collar of his shirt, I kissed him back. His hands found their way to my hair, and my heart found its way to its grave. I only imagined what it would be like to kiss Dylan Russell, but I never thought it could actually happen.

Maybe because Maci was 100% against it. Guilt began to tug at my conscience at the thought and even though I didn't want to, I had to back out.

"Dylan," I breathed his name, my eyes were still closed, our foreheads resting against each other. "Wait." He planted a few more soft kisses before he finally pulled away. I felt terrible for ending one of my childhood dreams, but I couldn't sit there and kiss my best friend's brother. It was selfish and wrong on so many levels. Just because she was dead didn't mean Girl Code died along with her. "As much as I--"

"Dylan?" I heard a voice call from the double doors behind us. "Dylan? Where are you?"

I noticed Dylan move back to the other side of the couch, yanking the collar of his shirt back and forth to cool down.

"Dylan!" A very drunk Nora shouted when she found us. "I've been looking for you like everywhere!" She climbed over the couch clumsily falling into the empty spot between us. I cleared my throat as she rested her feet on v my lap. Squinting her eyes, she studied me until she realized who I was, "Reesie Peesie!" She shoved her red cup of beer into the air, "To Maci!" Dropping the drink all over my boots, Nora passed out with her head on Dylan's shoulder.

"Reese..." Dylan trailed off. I had that uncomfortable feeling of stepping in something wet with my socks on and moving my toes around in my beer-soaked black ankle boots made it worse. Standing to my feet, I shook my head at Dylan who sat there frozen. "Hold on," he gently lifted Nora's head to free himself.

I, however, was already on my way back inside.

"What are you still doing here?" Fabian questioned as he snapped a few pictures of me. He was casually hanging out in the hallway, "I thought you went home."

"Can you move out of my way?" I bumped my shoulder against his.

"What's your problem?" He followed behind me taking more pictures. "Who pissed in your cereal this time? Couldn't have been me, I barely saw you tonight."

I turned around, grabbing the lens of his camera, "I will drop this to the floor and stomp on it."

"Well, I hope you can cough up thirty-five hundred," he smirked, taking another picture, "and that doesn't even include the lens."

Rolling my eyes, I began to push through the crowd to find the bathroom. It was almost 2 in the morning and people were still bumping and grinding to the music like half of them didn't have exams to take in the next couple of hours. The second-floor bathroom had no line and even though it seemed suspicious I took a chance and opened the door. Covering my nose from the acrid smell, I slammed the door shut right away. I probably should've covered my eyes too because it was never a pleasant sight to see someone's vomit spewed all over the sink and toilet.

"Oh yeah, don't go in there," I heard Fabian's voice. "Someone's stomach exploded."

"Thanks," I clenched my jaw, walking away from him and down the stairs. The line for the first-floor bathroom was looking horrendous and I was contemplating whether or not I should just go home.

"I know where there's another bathroom," Fabian's annoying voice was in my ear. "But that's only if you promise to be nice."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I folded my arms.

"Because I've been here a few times," he shrugged. "Who do you think takes Nora's bomb-ass Instagram pictures?"

"Fine," I caved. I was frustrated with having him follow me around, but if I got to the bathroom, hopefully, I could save my boots and be on my way out, never having to run into him again for the night, "Show me."

Finally making it to a bathroom in a part of the house that was deemed off limits, I washed off my boots with soap and water. I was hoping that if it didn't get rid of the beer smell, it would at least reduce it. I dried them as best as I could and removed my socks before placing them on my feet again.

When I exited the bathroom, I found Fabian taking a selfie with a statue in the hallway. I walked past him as I tried to return to the side of the house with loud pulsing music. I could hear his footsteps behind me as I walked down the long hallway, "You miss her, right?" He broke the quietness.

"Yeah," I replied, softly.

"Me too," he said. "I thought of her as a big sister, y'know? I can't believe it's almost been a year already."

"Can we not do this?" I turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Do what?" He furrowed his brow.

"Have this heart-to-heart about Maci," I answered, " and how much we miss her and wish she was still here."

"Sorry, I--I thought you'd wanna talk about it considering she was your best friend and all," he responded. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Thank you," I about-faced and began walking again.

"Y'know there was this one time--"

"Fabian," I warned him.

"Oh, you meant like no talking at all," he said. "Gotcha."

#wandering-thoughts-lost-voice #creative writing

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jalove-wecallhimdean-blog · 7 years

Text

New Beginnings

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Warnings: Mild angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, more fluff, poor Misha getting picked on. I think that just about covers it

Word count: 2806

A/N: Requested by @impalaimagining for my 300 followers celebration. I combined your two requests (hope you don’t mind) this one ended up being a lot longer than my usual one shots and I seen perfect opportunity for the prompt to be used and decided to add it to this one. I hope you enjoy sweetie!!

Jensen had invited you to his home for New Year’s Eve, knowing Jared was going to be there, you almost declined, but Jensen insisted. He assured you that no matter what happened between yourself and Jared you would always be a part of their family. You knew he wasn’t letting it go, and if you said you weren’t going, he would just keep bugging you until you did. You had a huge secret, still unsure if you wanted to even tell Jared what was going on. The two of you had gotten into a huge argument a couple of weeks ago, resulting in a devastating break up. You were still heartbroken, knowing you would never find someone who made you feel as loved and cared about as Jared had.

Stopping by the store to pick up a few things for the party, you were on your way to your best friend’s house, ready to face the guy you had fallen head over heels for, only he was your ex now. It was something you knew you would have to accept sooner or later. Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and put on your best, ‘I’m fine’ smile before knocking on Jensen’s door. Jensen greeted you, pulling you in for a bruising hug.

“We missed you, Y/N. It’s been hell dealing with Jared without you. I think the two of you really need to talk.” He started, you rolled your eyes, heaving out a sigh. You should have expected this right from the get-go.

“Jensen, you know that’s not going to happen. Things are over between Jared and I, that’s final!” You stormed by him, flinging your bags into the chair that was sitting in the foyer. Misha greeted you with the same enthusiasm as Jensen had, almost knocking you off your feet with the intensity of his hug, greeting you with almost the same exact words Jensen had.

“Seriously, guys! Is this all I’m here for? If so, I’m gone!” You started to turn around and head back out of the door, Misha gently grabbed you by the arm, you spun around to face him, giving him a hard glare.

“Please just stay. We want you here, and not just because of Jared. We love you like a sister. Stay.” He pleaded, you had a soft spot for the blue-eyed man, he played an angel but sometimes you swore he was actually a gift from up above. Just as you had made your mind up to stay, Jared walked through the kitchen,

“Hey guys, what’s taking so lo--,” He stopped in his tracks when his eyes found yours, nervously shifting from foot to foot. You had to admit, speechless Jared was one of your favorite forms of the man, sometimes he could talk the stubborn out of a donkey.

He looked amazing, almost making you forget why you were mad. His hair was hanging free, something that was very rare for Jared when he wasn’t Sam. His button up was open at the top, causing his chest hair to peek out from under the fabric. His long legs were covered in a pair of dress pants; this look was always your favorite, making you wonder if he’d dressed like this on purpose. Although his reaction looked as if he had no idea you were coming.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again,” He greeted you, a hint of sadness lacing his voice. Your heart dropped, you hated this! This isn’t how things were supposed to end up.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Jared.” You looked down at your hands, fumbling with your fingers, trying not to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, well, let’s get this party started!” Jensen was the one to break the silence, the tension thick in the air between you and Jared. He sighed, turning around and heading outside onto the balcony. You looked back and forth between Misha and Jensen, both of them giving you the ‘what are you waiting for? This is your chance!’ look. You groaned, following the same path Jared had taken.

He was leaned up against the rail, his arms supporting his large frame, his hair blowing gently in the night breeze. He was the image of what authors wrote about in trashy romance novels. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for whatever was about to come.

“Jared, I think we need to talk.” He shifted on one foot at the sound of your voice, hanging his head down between his shoulders. Even though you were unable to see his face, you knew it wasn’t good.

“So now you want to talk? It took three weeks and our friends forcing you to come over to talk?” He chuckled, but you knew there wasn’t anything funny about what was coming your way. “Jared, please hear me out! I was wrong okay? I should have never said those things to you, there have been some things happening that I just don’t know how to deal with, those emotions were hindering my ability to think with a clear head. I overreacted!” With that Jared spun around, an unrecognizable look in his eyes.

“You know, Y/N. I hate you more every time you do that. You make excuses as to why you can’t do this or that and expect me to just give in. I don’t know if I can do that this time. I love you too much and my feelings are too strong to keep letting you do this to me. I’m sorry baby but I think this time is the last.” His words stung, he hated you? But loved you? Why did this man have to be so damn complicated!

“Jared, please! Can we please give us another shot? I can’t live without you, you are the only man I ever want to be with and it’s killing me not having you by my side. I can’t go through this life alone, and I promise, with everything I have that I will never hurt you again. I know I was wrong for ending things the way that I did. My reasons were stupid and I never meant to hurt you this bad. I just never thought I was ever good enough for a man like you, Jared. That’s the simple truth.” You had just laid your heart out onto the floor of that balcony, hoping to god he didn’t stomp all over it.

“Baby, you are the only thing in my life that has real meaning, I wake up every damn day with you on my mind. I’m not sure what makes you think you aren’t good enough for me but I promise you, you are everything to me. Please stop putting yourself down and understand that you are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.” He took your hands in his, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding your body close to his. Being that close to him and everything he’d said to you was too much and you broke down into tears, you could feel his fingers entwining into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, shushing your sobs. After you finally pulled your emotions together you stepped away from him, looking up into his eyes.

“So what does this mean for us?” You asked, hopeful but also bracing yourself for anything that could happen.

“It’s a new year, baby. Who says there can’t be new beginnings.” He smiled down at you before pulling you in for a kiss.

Misha and Jensen were like a couple of children, the fireworks were already set up in the distance, you and Jared hanging back for a little private time after working things out. You settled down between his long legs on Jensen’s front step, you leaned back into Jared’s arms and watched Jensen and Misha as they shot off the bottle rockets, barely missing one another as they purposely aimed the fireworks towards the other. You loved the two goofs but you were surprised their antics hadn’t granted everyone a trip to the hospital.

“No! I get to go first!” You heard Misha faintly, apparently arguing with Jensen.

“Dude, I don’t trust you with a birthday candle! Not happening!” Jensen’s voice was next, causing both you and Jared to snicker. He placed a gentle kiss to your temple, pulling you tighter into his embrace.

Now that you had your boyfriend back, you couldn’t wait to tell him your good news, hopefully he was going to take it the way you hoped he was. You and Jared had always talked about having children someday, but it was always after you were married and settled down with each other. Sometimes the universe had different plans.

“Hey Jare, I have something I need to tell you.” You whispered, watching the fireworks Jensen and Misha were shooting off in the distance.

“What is it baby?” He slightly pulled away from you, giving you a weird look, unsure of what bomb you were about to drop on him.

“You know how we’d always talked about children, after we were married?” He nodded his head, still silent, strands of hair falling down over his eyes. You brushed them away, running your fingertips down his cheek to cup his jaw.

“Well, looks like that’s going to happen a little sooner than we had planned.” You looked into his eyes, your fingertips still stroking his face. The look of realization was slow, almost as if it took him a second for your words to process. As his smile grew wider you broke out into a fit of laughter, he pulled you in closer, kissing you deeper than he’d ever kissed you before. When he pulled away he was beaming, you couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.

“So I’m going to be a dad?” He asked, the reality of the situation still not fully hitting him. You laughed again, pulling the pregnancy test out of your pocket. He jerked it from your hands and studied it, pulling his phone out to shine light on the stick.

“This better not be a prank!” He warned, his eyebrow quirking in suspicion.

“How could it be a prank, Jared! You have the fucking test in your hand!” You defended, his accusations almost pissing you off.

“You could have faked it!” He smirked at you, obviously joking. “Calm down sweetie, I know you wouldn’t do that, I’m just messing with you!” You smiled and lightly punched his shoulder before leaning back into him, the fireworks finally starting. A few shots in, you could feel Jared’s hands move down to your stomach, his long fingers splayed out over your growing womb. You interlocked your fingers into his, rubbing his index finger with your thumb. You weren’t sure things could get any better than this.

After the fireworks, the four of you made your way back into Jensen’s home, ready to ring in the new year together. Jensen went straight for the champagne, the four of you gathering in his living room to watch the ball drop over the TV. This was how you liked it, everyone together. No huge parties, no loud music drowning out any conversation, no drunken idiots ruining everyone’s night, just your little family. Right before he popped open the cork, Jared stopped Jensen, looking down at you he pulled you tight to his side.

“Y/N and I have an announcement to make,” he started, a dazzling, proud smile forming over his face. “We’re having a baby!” Before you knew it the three of them were whooping and hollering, crowding in to give you and Jared their congratulations.

“I guess we’d better get to celebrating then!” Misha exclaimed, turning up the music on the turntable the guys had bought for the occasion. The music started blaring through the speakers, music thumping throughout the house. Jared began to fist pump the air, earning a laugh from you, as Jensen popped open the bottle of champagne, the lid flew through the room and the built up air pressure made some of the contents of the bottle spew out onto the floor. Gathering the glasses off of the coffee table he started pouring everyone a drink. Pausing at the fourth glass he grimaced,

“Oh shit, sorry, Y/N. We weren’t prepared for a baby tonight.” He awkwardly smirked, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t really know what to say. You couldn’t help but laugh; it was such a Dean expression, sometimes their characters came through in day to day life, this was one of those moments.

“It’s fine, you forget that I know I am pregnant? I came prepared.” You shuffled off, finding your bags and pulled out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice. Jared came back to your side, helping you pour the contents into your own glass, the smile he’d been sporting since you told him you were pregnant never faltering. You could get used to this.

The four of you danced around the room until it was closing in on midnight, Misha insisting you turn on the countdown on TV. You made yourselves comfortable on Jensen’s couch, Jared pulling you into his lap, holding you close to him. You watched four performances before the ball began to drop, most of the show was the reporters talking to people in the crowd. Everyone had on insane outfits, catching Misha’s attention.

“We should go to the next one.” He inquired, his interest piqued, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen.

“I’m down, but I’m getting Misha drunk off his ass so we can take embarrassing videos and post them all over social media.” Jared quirked. “I second that!” Jensen spoke up, flicking Misha’s ear. Jared laughed, tossing an empty plastic cup at Misha. You gently slapped his thigh, “Be nice!” You warned, knowing poor Misha went through hell because of the two of them. If you could be the voice of reason, that’s what you were going to be.

“Careful, demanding shit like that is how you got pregnant in the first place.” Jared smiled, a proud, dirty smirk forming over his face.

“Alright, alright! Enough of that!” Jensen grumbled, causing you to flush a deep red, sending another warning towards Jared. He held his hands up in mock surrender and shook his head.

“I’m just telling it like it is! Don’t bitch because you can’t handle the truth.” Jensen rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the TV. Just in time, the one minute mark hit the screen ‘Thank goodness’ You thought to yourself, saved by the excitement over the New Year. Everyone stood up from their seats, goofing off as the seconds clicked closer. The five second mark ticked by and Jared took your hand in his, looking down and winking at you, a look of pure love and bliss behind his hazel eyes. Your knees went weak, if his strong body wasn’t there to hold onto you probably would have gone down. That look always rendered you speechless, turning your entire body into a shivering mess.

As soon as the countdown hit zero Jared was on his knee in front of you. Your heartbeat sped up, pulse racing; nothing could have prepared you for this moment. The world disappeared around you. You knew deep down everyone’s eyes were on the two of you but you couldn’t see them. It was only Jared, it was always Jared. He was your life, your everything, the soon to be father of your child. Your eyes welled up with tears, unable to control your emotions, the increased hormones from your little bean not helping the situation at all. He gripped your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes.

“Baby, I know things have been bad between us lately, I know we have issues we need to work through but ever since I’ve known you I have been one hundred percent sure that you are the only one I want to have by my side. I would never leave you or our precious baby that you’re carrying. Please, be my wife Y/F/N.” His eyes were hopeful, full on puppy-dogging you, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up through your chest. You nodded your head anxiously, Jared shooting up from his position and pulling you into his strong body, taking your breath away with a new year’s kiss you would remember for the rest of your life. In the background you could hear the whoops and hollers of Misha and Jensen. Jared pulled away from you, leaning back a little so he could look down at you.

“It’s a new year, baby. Who says there can’t be new beginnings.”

Tagging a few who may be interested, PLEASE let me know if you’d like to be removed from this list!! (or added to it ♥)

@babypieandwhiskey @waywardjoy @for-the-love-of-dean @mamapeterson @mrsjohnsmith @loveitsallineed @sdavid09 @mamaredd123 @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @supernatural-jackles

Forevers @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @avasmommy224 @plaidstiel-wormstache @foreveridjits @captainradicalpassion @milkymilky-cocopuff @anokhi07 @living-beauty-nightmare @mysticalflowerchild @gemini75eeyore @buckysmetallicstump @mysteriouslyme81 @padackles2010 @ruprecht0420 @fandommaniacx @ayyyitsthatweirdchick16 @ladydw @1dsprkls @fangirl1802 @clairese1980 @jensen-gal

Pond Tags

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#jared x reader #jared padalecki x reader #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic pond #heather writes #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #jared padalecki fluff #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #spn fic #300 followers request

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mr-yuri-katsuki · 7 years

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Tired of feeling never enough.

I’ll forgive you if you don’t read this whole thing. It’s longer than the post from a couple days ago, and kind of... dark, I guess. But I needed to work through some things, so here’s that.

I got into the 2015 Grand Prix Final by a fluke really. I hadn't been expecting to make it but I placed high enough to squeak in. It was my first one. I qualified early on because my events were Skate America and Skate Canada that year.

Practices went okay but having almost two months to linger on it messed with my head in a big way. I focused more on what I couldn't do than what I could, and it got harder and harder to get through to me. Even Phichit got worried, and he never really worried about anything. To cheer me up, he secretly ordered me a pillow with a picture of Victor on it all the way from Japan because I'd seen it in footage from the NHK Trophy, where Victor was competing. His Japanese fans had them, so Phichit knew I'd want one. He gave it to me for my birthday on November 29th, not long before the Final.

We got to the event and there were two sessions for the men's practices, three in each because there's only six total for the Final. I was terrified to look at my schedule. I was group A. Victor was group B. I honestly don't know if I could have skated on the same ice if we'd been in the same group.

I didn't see him until day 1 of practice. I was signing some autographs near the entrance to backstage, and suddenly everyone except my Japanese fans who were still waiting took off. I looked over and Victor was at the other corner on our end of the rink, getting ready to practice. It was the first time I'd seen him in person, because I had never been assigned to a GP event he was in before I made it to this one.

I thought watching him practice would help me, but all I was was that much more intimidated. It was one thing to see him on television, but watching him skate in person after wanting to since I was 12 years old didn't even feel real. I sat about five rows up, so I could see over the boards and watch his skates as they moved. At one point he was running through “Stay Close To Me”, and landed the quad salchow about 15 feet away from where I was sitting.

I was pretty sure I'd never be that good. As much as I wanted to, I didn't stay for any more practices except my own after that. My confidence was already shaky at best, no need to be reminded that I'd never be worthy of being at the Final at all.

~~~

The pressure got to me early on and my short program was a mess. I salvaged my combination, but popped the other two jumps. Coach Celestino had seemed to be giving up on me. Instead of analyzing what was wrong, he kept asking me why I was scared, that I was good enough to be there (even though I was there via sheer luck and some math in the standings). It wasn't helping.

Coach C never allowed us any junk food during competitions. But when I went back to my room that night I bought a bunch of candy and ate it. The sugar was the worst thing right then but at that point I figured it wouldn't matter. I'd always had issues with my weight. I was always on some kind of diet from the rink nutritionist and Coach C always had me doing extra fitness training to keep me under a certain weight. It was the first thing that fell by the wayside when I was stressed out, which was often.

~~~

My phone woke me at 1:00 a.m. It was my mom. My dog, who was 10 years old, had been sick for some time. He'd passed away in his sleep.

I got him when I was twelve. I saw a picture of Victor in a magazine, holding his new puppy Maccachin, an adorable little brown ball of fluff.

My dog was a brown poodle. His name was Victor. I hadn't seen him in three and a half years. I couldn't be there when he was sick. I let him down. And in the end I didn't get to say goodbye because I was a continent away doing something I was pretty sure I hated. So I was pretty sure I got what I deserved.

~~~

My long program was a disaster. I skated first because I was sixth after the short. I landed one jump: a triple toe loop that was supposed to be a quad. All Coach C was worried about was keeping me off the Internet. Later he'd tell me he wanted to hear me say I'd try again. But if he didn't have more faith in me than I did in myself, why would I even bother? He hadn't even watched either of my programs all the way through. After the second fall, he did as usual: Stepped back from the boards, hands folded behind his back, pretending to watch but really not. Because Yuri bombed again.

~~~

I'd gone into the men's room and closed the door on one of the stalls when I saw on my phone that my mom had called after my free skate. I called her and she told me she'd had a viewing party. She said that everyone was really disappointed that I hadn't done better. That broke me. I fell apart and was sobbing in the stall, praying no one came in. I could hear Victor's long program music faintly in the background. I'd wanted to see “Stay Close to Me” live just once, and I was too ashamed to leave the bathroom stall.

Then someone kicked it in and there stood the “Russian Punk”, a 15-year-old jumping bean and the Junior GP Champion that was being called the potential successor to Victor. He made fun of me for crying, told me to retire and that I was a loser. Tell me something I don't know.

His name was Yuri Plisetsky.

~~~

In the lobby after the long program, everyone was gathering to wait for the shuttle bus back to the hotel. The banquet was that night and I had no intention of going; in fact I wanted to leave but we couldn't change our flight reservations and were scheduled to leave late the next night. We'd planned it that way in case by some fluke I took a bronze and got to skate an exhibition. Bronze was all I'd been shooting for. It was a pretty lofty goal, clearly not one I could reach.

I was startled when I heard Victor's voice say my name. I looked to my left and he was walking past with Plisetsky, discussing his free program with him. They went to meet up with their coach and I started talking with someone who was encouraging me not to retire. I was sort of tuning it out, my mind wandering, and I found myself looking at Victor's back. I liked the Russian team jackets and was focusing on that when he turned his head to look at something to his left... and I saw his eyes shift to me behind him. I froze, terrified.

“Oh, you want a picture? Sure thing,” he said. Even in my absolute terror, I noticed something unusual about him: He looked... tired. Sad? I don't know.

Then I realized something. He thought I was a fan, because there were some mingling about getting autographs. I didn't even get noticed as the kid who bombed in sixth place, or the Japanese skater that made it in by sheer luck.

I turned around and left without saying another word, then commenced to agonize over it for the rest of the night. If I wasn't a loser before, I certainly was now, not to mention seriously rude. I assumed Plisetsky told him who I was after I walked away and I was sure when he found out who I was, he'd never even try to acknowledge me again... if I ever got another chance. Which, since I was pretty sure I wanted out, was probably going to be never.

~~~

Coach C wanted to go to the banquet. His job was done and he wanted to hang out with everyone. Why I was forced to go with him, I don't know. I didn't even feel like I was fit to be in the same room as these far better competitors, skaters I'd heard about and watched for years. Once Coach C disappeared after dinner I was on my own. I knew a couple of people personally but no one big.

I saw Victor, from behind, in a suit this time like we all were, talking with Christophe. It was well known that they were best friends, and there had been rumors in the skating forums online that it was more than that, though never confirmed. The fans shipped Victophe hardcore.

That was the first time I realized what my thing for Victor really was: When I suddenly, inexplicably, felt jealous.

I started drinking champagne, hoping it would boost my confidence and maybe I'd try to apologize to him for being rude. I hadn't eaten since the morning because I just really felt like figuratively dying, and being dragged there had just made it worse. I remember nothing after the third glass.

~~~

The next morning I woke up in my hotel bed in just my dress shirt and underwear. I smelled like champagne and felt awful. I had spills all over the shirt, which was ruined. On my left hand was some kind of ink smudge that I didn't remember getting. It looked like it had gotten wet and smeared. I thought it was one of those stamps they put on your hand to note that you're over 21 – I always got carded because I look 12 with my glasses on. Sometimes they'd use a sharpie marker instead and that's what this looked like; I could just make out one thing that looked like it might have been a number but I wasn't sure, and there was no way to tell now.

I had several texts from Coach C, so I called him and told him I was getting cleaned up. I saw as I sat eating breakfast, scrolling through my phone, that Victor had left with his team early that day to go back to St. Petersburg. After all, he had Russian Nationals in three weeks, he couldn't waste time hanging around when he needed to be in top form.

I was relieved I wouldn't run into him again because without alcohol, I knew I'd be a blathering idiot and probably make a fool of myself again... if he'd even give me the time of day.

~~~

I eventually found out a year later, at dinner in Barcelona the night before the GPF short program with many of the same skaters from that weekend, including Victor, what happened at the banquet. I came to find out that one of the things Phichit and I always talked about had actually happened. Over the years, through magazines, TV, online articles etc., it started to come out that Victor wasn't that stereotypical “scary Russian skater” that was all business and would step on you with his blades to win. He was competitive, sure and took it seriously, but he appeared to be a really down to earth, fun guy. We always joked about hanging out with him someday, if we ever got to meet him. So basically, the man of my dreams had blatantly hit on me, danced with me, even took off his suitcoat to play matador and bullfighter with a drunken, severely depressed Japanese skater. I had asked him to be my coach and invited him to visit my family's business at the end of the night.

It explained so much: Why he'd come on so strong when he came to Hasetsu. Why he seemed so familiar with me even though I was under the assumption we'd never actually met except for that one moment in the hotel lobby. At first, I agonized over totally missing out on that chance. But then I thought about who I was then. He was at the top of his game. I was giving up. Maybe we'd have become friends, but no one wants that kind of baggage holding them back when they're on top of the world. I had myself convinced it happened like it was supposed to.

Until today, when I found out that the smudge of ink I washed away in the shower, that had been blotted out probably when I spilled my own drink on it... had been his phone number. I can only assume he wrote it there with the sharpie he was carrying in his pocket – we all carry sharpies, there's fans everywhere at competitions and other places, even banquets if they're lucky – when I asked him to be my coach.

This should not have destroyed me today, but it did.

I left that competition completely lost and broken back then, and it catapulted me back into that mindset of missed opportunities, of being the kid that always fucked up. If only you'd done better. If only you'd stayed even marginally sober. If only, if only, if only.

If only I'd realized that the person who quite literally saved me from myself, had reached out well before I even knew I needed him, and most certainly before he knew I did. I'd been able to reconcile the banquet, figuring it was just that night and gone, and the only thing about not remembering was that I'll never remember what it was like to meet him for the first time and not be terrified. He and I were equals that night, having a blast and him being the person I'd read about him being. When we met again, not so much, at first. But I got to know that person eventually.

I don't even know why I was sent reeling by this today. I don't understand myself at all sometimes. I'm a roller coaster of highs and lows and I swear I can't have one with out the other. Practice was great today. I'd planned to write a very different story over on Twitter about something fun that happened, when he said one thing that just... I don't even know anymore.

Mila found me in the locker room bawling my eyes out and asked what was wrong. I didn't want to talk at first, I told her it was stupid and I didn't even know what my feelings were or why they were hurt. She dragged me off into one of the gym rooms – there weren't a lot of people there today so they were mostly empty – and I told her everything I've written here.

“You haven't put it to rest,” she said. “Everything in our lives connects. You look back and see why you were the person you were before, and you learn from it so you can change it now. But it doesn't mean you don't regret not doing things differently. The hurt comes from knowing you can't. You just have to move forward with what you are doing now. With him. Because even after everything, he still chose you. That's how you know it was meant to be.”

I told her I didn't understand why it even bothered me. I should have been like “are you serious? Really?” and laughed it off. Instead it gutted me and I felt like an idiot. I felt stupid for my reaction and I couldn't even look at him at that moment. The emotion was pretty much the same as that moment in the lobby over a year ago.

“Because you got used to letting everyone down, including yourself. And hearing that it happened again with the most important person in your life just hit you wrong. You're afraid it's going to happen again. You have to remember where you are now. You’re learning how to do things right, you’re growing up even if it’s late. You're with him and that's all that matters,” she said.

And then she decided that I needed to smile, and picked me up and threw me on top of a bunch of cushions in the gym room. Because if you haven't been bench pressed by Mila, you're not really friends. I passed that initiation. In Hasetsu, I had Yuko. I'd like to think that in St. Petersburg, I'll have Mila, if she'll put up with me too.

I'll still probably tell him I'm sorry when I can get myself together enough to look at him again. Because I am, for him having to deal with all of this now, as he has been since this side of me surfaced at Cup of China. I'm hoping I'll move past all of this some day, that feeling that I was never good enough, and always missed out and messed up when it came down to the wire because I didn't do enough or do it right... and the fear that somehow, I'll screw everything up again. But I guess today was not that day.

#victor nikiforov #i don't even know

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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15 Lessons on How to Surround Yourself With Good Friends (and Less Enemies)

Be honest: how many good friends do you have?

If you are a man, the chances are slim that you have a tribe of good friends. As men New York Times article we tend to become isolated. [1]

Women, in spite of their natural ability to connect to other women, in our tech age are also losing deep friendships. “The number of Americans who say they have no close friends has roughly tripled in recent decades,” [2].

You may have hundreds of social media friends. But how many of them can you call at 2 AM to help you in a crisis?

In this article, I’m going to tackle, step by step, how to gain more solid friendships and how to ditch your enemies. If you’ve always wanted to be surrounded by people who bring you up rather than pull you down, then read on.

How to Thrive in Friendships Using the ROC Formula

I started out in a small Vermont town. Everyone knew everyone… and each others’ business. There were not many places to hide, and I felt secure in knowing others were watching out for me.

I can remember years ago living in Phoenix sobbing as I read a Vermont Life magazine article. A town rebuilds a farmer’s barn because the previous week it burnt down to the ground. In that moment I longed for community and close friends.

Not having close friends since high school, I created a plan to develop them.

I cheated. I started a men’s group. What we discovered with our Sandpoint Men’s Group is going international. We are helping other men start groups and develop deep friendships.

The core of what we learned was the ROC formula: Relax, Open and Connect. They are the first three strategies to generating close friends.

Step #1: Relax

We live in a world that continues to run faster with more to do. Your nervous system starts to habituate to that pace along with all those around you. You don’t realize how fast your body or mind are going or their effects on you.

Once you begin to accept and experience your pace you can start to relax. In relaxing, you may feel anxious. That is OK. That is your body feeling what it couldn’t feel when it was on its treadmill.

This is a lifelong process. You don’t need to be a master at it. You need to start to see results. Mindfulness is a great tool to speed the development of this skill. By slowing down, you are more able to do the next skill.

Step #2: Open

Once you begin to accept your body, mind and emotional experiences you have more room to open up to being vulnerable to others. This is THE KEY to close friendships. Without vulnerability you don’t have a relationship, you have interaction.

Brene’ Brown, the champion of vulnerability, describes how all close relationships–be them romantic or friendship–start with vulnerability.

It’s scary. You may be rejected, hurt or shamed.

Without vulnerability, another person has nothing to connect with other than your external mask.

With vulnerability you are real, you are human. Sure, some will not like you. Though, many more will and they’ll want to be vulnerable with you.

Step #3: Connect

Once you relax and open, you are ready to reach out to connect to another. If vulnerability is the key, connecting is the door. When you step through your fears to reach out to another while being present and vulnerable, you upped your game.

Shifting from being passive to active by moving forward to connect has you give up some control. Sure you can connect from your hyper-persona, but you know what that will get you. If you want more friends sooner, apply these three steps tomorrow.

The Key Points of ROC

Creating a Safe Space

This is critical to the ROC formula and friendships. To the extent you feel unsafe your physiology will shift into its survival state. When your body believes it’s at risk, you aren’t naturally oriented to friendship.

If you feel unsafe, there is a good chance the other person feels unsafe. You can push your way through by denying your physical and emotional feelings. Or you could slow down to allow yourself to feel the lack of safety AS your risk to move forward towards connecting.

When you speak to what’s happened, so it’s not hidden or denied, others can relax. When you say “I’m nervous”, others relax because you admitted to a vulnerable experience. A safe space is the fertile soil for friendship.

Clarify What You Want

When you slow down to connect to the kinds of friends you want you are more likely to create them. Rather than hoping, you get clear so you can create a plan.

If you want friends that enjoy nature, hanging in bars may not be the place to meet them. Joining a hiking club would set you up to meet nature lovers.

Say No to What You Don’t Want

With clarity comes taking a stand for what you want. That often means saying no to friends that aren’t giving you energy. Sure, a good friend is there for another when he or she is not receiving from the other.

You know what I mean. It’s the friend that always call in a crisis, not willing to listen or do what it takes to shift his or her life. When you see his caller ID, you hesitate to pick up.

If you fill your life with relationships that suck you dry you will have no room for those that can nourish you. Start speaking up. Start saying what you truly feel and want. Sometimes the truth will set one of these people free.

Others speak of having good boundaries. I say fill your boundaries with all of your feelings and wants. Be courageously authentic and the need to work on strong boundaries will be irrelevant. The people you don’t want as friends will avoid you. Those that you would want will be attracted to you.

Go for Something Bigger Than Yourself

We are attracted to people who have a purpose in life. We read books and see movies about people who stand up for something that puts them at risk.

Go for more than finding your passion. Explore what you want to live and die for. Go for it. It’s less that you are achieving it and more you are going for it that will draw people to you.

Enjoy Your Solitude

The more you enjoy your own company, the more others will. When you don’t need others, they will be more attractive to you. We’ve all met that needy person who you don’t want to hang with.

The more you enjoy being by yourself the less you have misplaced needs. We instinctually and biologically, let alone psychologically, need others. I’m not talking about being the isolated hermit. I am speaking about being OK with your own company.

Connection Can Be Critical

We are trained to understand, diagnosis and fix a problem. That’s a great strategy for fixing code. It doesn’t work well for developing friendships. We are social animals; we are hungry for connection. We want to be heard and witnessed, not analyzed and lectured to.

The next time you find yourself not being heard or see yourself go into problem-solving mode, slow down. Use the ROC formula to reorient. Back away from seeing the person as a problem. Ask open-ended questions such as, “What did it feel like when your boss told you that?”

Listen less for understanding and more for connection. Encourage the person to express vulnerable feelings with your actions and words. If it feels right, you may touch the person. Research proved that touch is a powerful connector that can immediately tell someone they are OK.

Shared moments of heighten connection. When a situation has intensity and possibly perceived danger we will move beyond our hesitations to reach out for help. Studies were down during the bombing of London in the Second World War. Rather than people fighting each other for the limited resources they bonded together to share.

Going on a strenuous hike with another can cement a friendship. Maybe you got lost. Once you rediscover the trail, you start laughing at all the mistakes you both made. Those mistakes become your shorthand to remind each other about the experience and how good it felt.

Plan special moments to catalyze a friendship.

Creating connection rituals can be repeated shared moments. We need predictability in our lives. When the predictable is planned it’s a ritual. In lieu of no positive rituals, our unconscious will use negative rituals.

A couple may have a date night every week. Through the week each person, rather than daydream about the last argument, can reflect on their weekly date that will be relaxing and connecting.

Plan activities with friends that bring you closer. In our weekly men’s group, men look forward to spending four hours together. Most would not have thought hanging with other men would be fun. It is because these men aren’t hanging, they are being vulnerable and connecting every week. They know if something tough happens, they have their group.

Listening may be the best quality of a deep friendship. Your ability to listen allows another to go deep into their experience. But how many people do you have that can sit with you for an hour and listen?

When you look at listening as a mental task, it looks boring. When you look at listening as emotional intimacy, it can be scary or exciting.

As the person speaks, feel your response. Notice how your body responds. Notice how you are opening up. You can reflect back to the person the impact what they are saying is having on you.

When is the last time you were truly heard? When is the last time you got someone else’s world?

Fun is the magnet that draws others to you. Laughter a social phenomenon opens us up. To have fun, you need to relax and express.

For many of us, we don’t know how to generate fun or laughter. I was one of them. It was when I started being like a kid that I started having fun. When I teased people in a loving way and laughed at myself that I started having fun.

We are drawn to those who are fun. To be one of those people you need to risk making a fool of yourself. You will at first do or say something that is not fun. Write it off as learning. Keep putting yourself out there. Your failures will feel worse for you than others. Others will appreciate the risk-taking.

Be your own friend first. Practice the above behaviors with yourself. Have a weekly fun activity. Use the ROC formula with yourself.

If you are doing a lot of negative self-talk, go to the underlying emotions. Feel them so you can release them. Shift your state, get your body moving. It’s less talking yourself out of a negative state and more accepting your experience.

Often as kids when we had no one to console us, we did it for ourselves. Now as an adult you have more choices. Choose to feel and express as you move through life. Give yourself the voice you didn’t have as a kid. Stand up for yourself, as you would for a good friend.

Others will sense how you take care of yourself which sets them up to believe you could do it for them. They will naturally trust you more.

Give—to others knowing you may not get anything in return. Give the most precious gift, gift of yourself in vulnerable ways. Reveal not to get attention. Reveal to be the first to take the emotional risk.

Give a compliment when it doesn’t benefit you. Tell the woman at the checkout she looks good in her dress. The more giving becomes a habit, the more you will be the person others want to be around.

You want to have good friends in your life, first be a good friend to others. Take risks when others don’t. Be real, be vulnerable when others aren’t.

Be willing not to have others like you. Like in business when they say a product for everyone is a product for no one. So is trying to be everyone’s friend can turn people off. Have your focus be less on making friends and more on relaxing, opening and connecting.

Take on one of these skills every day. Play with them. As Bucky Fuller used to say, you’re not learning unless you are making mistakes. Go out of your comfort zone. Put yourself in new, possibly mildly scary, situations to expand your repertoire of friendship skills.

If I can do this, a guy who grew up with Asperger’s Syndrome, dyslexia, and a speech impediment, you can do it. Have fun.

Featured photo credit: Helena Lopes via unsplash.com

Reference

[1]^New York Times: The Challenges of Male Friendships[2]^Time Magazine: How Many Friends Do I Need?

The post 15 Lessons on How to Surround Yourself With Good Friends (and Less Enemies) appeared first on Lifehack.

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shittylongcatposts · 4 years

Text

anonymous asked:

Edit: I did regret it, wow the original is so messed up???!!! WHY???!!! Tumblr???Why? :(

TW: swearing, mentions of a fight,

Bad Timing (New Upload!!)

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

When one afternoon Jaehee contacted you, saying that Jumin wasn’t himself at the moment, you wanted nothing more but to help him. Especially since it was him. You really started to like him more and more, so you felt even worse, when you realized how much of a hard time Jumin had. You gathered your courage, went to his penthouse and stayed there for a few days.

He cared so much for you and your safety that he asked you to stay with him until the hacker issue is solved completely and Jumin would be feeling better.

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

A few days later you found Jumin in a more stable state, it hurt you a little bit to think about going back to Rikas apartment but it had to be. You still had lots of work to do and V confirmed that the hacker issue has been solved for now. So you sat down with Jumin talking about your return to the apartment.

“I will be fine. I promise. I’ll call you as soon as I get there ok?”

“Ok.”

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

“Hey Jumin, I hope everything is fine with you and Mc. Is she still with you?”Jumin could hear a sniff at the other end of the line, curiously he tilted his head. Did he cry?

“Luciel, what’s wrong, you don’t seem to be alright? Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Kind of, but that doesn’t matter now… Is Mc still with you?” he asked again, sounding a little bit more concerned than before.

“Luciel, pull yourself together, and tell me what the hell is wrong!”

“Jumin?...Are you still there?” he heard his friend's voice saying.

“Yes, I’m sorry for getting so loud...I don’t know what..”

“doesn’t matter now, I’m picking you up, you won’t be able to drive anyway. We will make it in time, Jumin.”

The boys sat in complete silence. They both stared through the window, focusing on the cars that flew by. Luciel drove fast, and Jumin was glad to have him at his side at the moment.

“Luciel?” Jumins raspy voice finally broke the silence.

“yeah?”

“Why did Rika make you do this? Nothing could be so important that you have to blow the whole place up in order to save some data.”

“I, I don’t know, she never told me why. Maybe It’s because she hid other information there as well.” Seven chuckled nervously, he seemed to be unsure how to continue this conversation.

“Other information?”

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

You finally arrived at the building, it was a pretty long trip and you were exhausted. You already started missing Jumin. But you had work to do. A lot of work.

Looking up at the building again you sighed, let’s go inside Mc, you thought. When you suddenly saw a red flash at the corner of your eye. With screeching tires it came to hold and two figures jumped out of the car. A large shadow ran directly towards you, a slightly smaller one followed right after it.

You recognized Jumin pretty quickly and let go of the door handle which fell back into it’s lock. Click.

Before you even knew it you found yourself in a tight embrace. His hands stroked over your hair and you felt him sobbing.

“My god, Mc, I’m so glad we made it in time. You’re safe, I... I prayed so much that nothing would happen to you.”

“wha… Jumin what’s going on?” You asked, wondering what got into the boys for appearing in such a rush, as if your life was on the line.

“But, guys… what’s wrong?” You asked once again. The dark haired man took your hand to guide you to Saeyoungs car.

“We’ll explain it later my dear, let us calm down first.”

#reupload #god i duuno why it was so messed up #mysme #mysmes #mystic messenger #jumin han #shitty longcat #juminxmc #saeyoung choi

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