#SO much baggage is thrown around it’s insane | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokilokilolki · 6 months ago

Text

Hob/Morpheus Fic Rec

With smut warnings (on a scale of low-high, none, or chapter warnings)

Contents:

Mixed

Hob Saves Dream

Jelouse/Possesive Morpheus

Hob and Endless family

Hob/Morphues + Aziriphale/Crowley Crossover Fics

Alternate Universe

One-Shots

Hob Whump

Take Me in Your Loving Ropes 23k

Aetheltrythh

Smut: Yes-High

Hob invites Morpheus to attend his shibari performance, to show him what it is about. Morpheus finds it a little too much to his liking :D.

: This one was so amazing, a nice slow burn with a sprinkle of jealous Dream and soft Hob

If you would have me 19k

HanaSheralHaminail

Smut: None (Making out fanart at the end)

“Hanging from a chain around my familiar’s neck is the key to my chambers.”

In his cat form, Dream stretched out his body and yawned languidly. The key shimmered into existence, pulled from the dream of a young writer who fashioned stories of fae queens and mortal sailors, of treasure chests and friendship forged through hardship.

“The person who first takes the key from him shall become my spouse.”

: I LOVE this one, based on that one popular prompt post, and a good slow-burn with soft!dream.

Hob saves Dream

For Want of Caution 20k

Mayanpaw

Smut: None

Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily like his friend.

This one is just pure feels with some Hob whump and besotted Dream thrown in.

little by little, and in great leaps 21k

she_who_loves_dreamling (all_fandoms_reader)

In one world, Jessamy and Death depart for the Sunless lands, and it will be long years before Dream is free.

This is not that world.

: Hob saves Dream and they both pine after each other like idiots I love them

Hob is eating breakfast on Tuesday, August 10th, in the year of our Lord 1926, when Death comes knocking.

Sing Me To Sleep 3k

BisforBread

Smut: Light

Dream’s hands were cold as they cupped Hob’s face, desperate to hold on to this reality.

“I’m here, I’m real,” Hob said, wrapping the coat around Morpheus’ shoulders, drawing it around his thin frame.

: Jessamy goating out and getting Hob

(THIS IS A SEQUEL FIC AND CAN BE READ ALONE BUT THE FIRST ONE IS REALLY GOOD TOO)

Body and Soul, Always and Forever 50k

SigniorBenedickofPadua

Smut: None

In 1916, Hob is summoned by Roderick Burgess. One hundred and six years later, he is rescued by Dream. Soon after that, he finds himself in love and engaged to the King of Dreams and Nightmares, and now it's just happy days for the rest of their Endless existence, right?

Well, it turns out that when you get engaged to a king, it comes with baggage, such as being given titles, being knighted, and entertaining delegations from Faerie. And when the king is captured by a mysterious Order, suddenly you're standing there as Lord Protector of the Dreaming, having to balance saving a magical realm with saving your fiancé. Easy peasy.

: BAMF regent Hob saving Dream, Desire being just a silly little brother, and very unorganized cults.

Jealous/Possessive Morpheus

What in wanting is freely given and in madness is taken away 7k

Imnotcryingipromise

Smut: None

: I love this one! Hob saving Calliope, and Dream getting insanely jealous and possessive

warning sign 8k

Issylra

Smut: None

“He does not wish your friendship, Hob Gadling. He wishes to bed you."

: Dream is emotionally constipated and gets jealous and possessive over Hob

Turning Blue 3k

LaurytheLatrator

Smut: None

It had not occurred to Dream that Hob would not be at the first place he looked. It’s this feeling of a strange, thwarted serendipity that sets Dream on edge.

: This one is just pure angst all the way through; Protective Dream and Hob whump

Jealousy Does Not Become Him 3k

Aria_Lerendeair

Smut: Light

Dream was not jealous.

Dream did not get jealous.

Yet he watched Hob Gadling laugh, his face lit up, the joy obvious in his heart, and felt the desperate, clawing creature within him snarl its fury.

But he wasn't jealous. He couldn't be.

: Dream not being sad and jealoue and Hob storming the realm cause he’s being an idiot.

Trying to Recognize Myself (When I Feel I've Been Replaced) 13k

Purplesauris

Smut: High (second chapter)

"You'll regret saying no," they say suddenly, snapping Hob back onto the mortal plane, their glamor falling back into place as they scowl. "You could have helped me— and you refused."

"Hospitality doesn't beget I give up pieces of my body," Hob replies. "And you've officially worn out your welcome."

: A wondering supernatural entity pulls a lover body swap on Hob not knowing his husband is a possessive eldritch horror.

“Defiling the Sublime: emerging technologies and their methodological implications”, by Hob Gadling, PhD 2k

notallsandmen (notallmaenads)

Smut: Yes-High

Dream surprises Hob during a Zoom conference and blows him under his desk. Exactly what it says on the tin.

: Dream being a brat and Hob trying to hang onto the last thread of sanity

Watching You Dance 347 words

Aquilathefighter

Smut: Suggestive Content

Hob has a side job as a stripper. He invites Dream to come watch him, knowing that his boyfriend's possessive streak will be activated when he's surrounded by the lustful daydreams of the patrons.

: Dream can sense daydreams, which is unfortunate when all anybody is thinking about is your boyfriend currently on a pole.

Hob & Endless Family

Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes 5k

Imaginationisrainbowcoloured

Smut: None

Wanings: Drug Use

Hob has always been the kind of person to try anything once. Unfortunately, that applies to literal anything and that is exactly the reason he finds himself in this situation.

: Hobb and Deliriums interactions throughout the years + Protective Dream

Misery Loves Company 5k

icarus_chained

Smut: None

Warning: Depression

Over the course of his life, Hob has been more than well acquainted with despair. Comes with the territory, a bit. Not even immortals have infinite strength. It took some centuries, though, before he became acquainted with Despair. In the flesh, as it were. Is it strange to find a degree of comfort in the personification of abject misery? Probably. But there've been times when she's been there, and that made all the difference.

: Hobb's interactions with Despair over the years + Protective Dream

Endless Family Values 1k

TheCosmicMushroom

Smut: None

“Now, now,” Hob intercedes with a grin that’s only slightly forced. “Can we save the in-fighting for the actual dinner part of this family dinner?”

: Hob finally meets the family.

A Study in Impressing the In-Laws 2k

Purplesauris

Smut: None

The next time that Hob meets one of Dream's siblings, he almost expects it.

A Touch of Bitterness 2k

Darci

Smut: Light-Suggestive

Warning: Homophobia

Hob has not been led to have high expectations regarding Morpheus' family. Somehow, they're worse than he expected. Poor Morpheus never stood a chance of being normal.

: Hob meets the fam and there weird as shit, but it’s his weird of shit now

Fuckboi Hob vs The Endless Family Dinner 41k

Dancinbutterfly

Smut: Yes (Chapters 5 and 6 only)

It was supposed to be a joke listing. Bring a line cook parolee covered in body art in active recovery as your plus one to a family dys-function as revenge, haha, very funny. Only the posh stranger who reaches out to take Hob up on the ludicrous offer turns out to be wound so tight over his upcoming New Year's Eve dinner that Hob decides to make himself everyone's fucking problem. Dream's family won't know what hit them.

: Hob is a boyfriend for hire and then immediately falls in love. Love this fic, nails the family dynamic and has a lot of wholesome moments between everyone.

Family Jewels 10k

MissAlrauna

Smut: Light

The Endless family is made up of seven siblings, no parents, just children. It's difficult between them, sometimes hostile, sometimes loving, but never boring / One Shot Collection, very Delirium and Dream centric

: These are all one-shots and can be read independently, they focus on the the endless as humans and their family dynamics (centered more heavily on Dream and Delirium) Very well characterized and heart-warming.

The worst family gathering in history 4k

Ihatepants

Smut: Light-Implied

Basically, Dream is forced to spend time with his siblings every now and then. Just them in a room, with a lot of alcohol.

How long does it take until they find out he’s been shagging?

: A lot of endless family dinner crack

Life Couldn't Get Much Sweeter 17k

DrAdrianMilk

Smut: Yes (Chapters 4 and 5 centric)

Dream and Hob finally have their wedding ten months after getting married (eleven months after meeting). Hob is determined to make the day perfect for Dream and if he has to fight both of Dream's parents to do it? So be it.

: Hob and Dream get married (alt universe humans) and its Hob’s job to help with Dreams fucked up family. Fr I really love this fic especially how they integrated destruction into it.

Whatever You Desire 9k

MintyEcco

Smut: None

Messing with their older brother Dream is a perfectly entertaining past time for Desire, though after the incident with Unity Kincaid and Rose Walker they're looking for something a little more low-key. And then they stumble upon Hob Gadling.

: Desire is a coniving little shit and Dream is possessive

Sandman & Good Omens Crossover Fics

Heaven is a good book, or several hundred good books... 5k

Summertime_Queen

Smut: None

Hob stumbles across a strange little bookshop wandering down the streets of Soho which seems to be as long-lived as he...

: Hob and his interesting interactions with the strange man who never ages in a bookshop in Soho. With some Dream fluff of course.

dreaming of a miracle 2k

Lifelights

Smut: None

Aziraphale has never been summoned before. He feels a bit honored. More put out, though. He’d been in the middle of organizing the shop, and he’d been planning to get dinner at a new little place by the Thames. Maybe if he hurries, he can still make his reservation.

“Um, hello,” he says, following the words with a little wave. “May I help you?”

: Rodrick Burgess accidentally summons Aziraphale after Dream and must face a not-so-happy demon.

A Tavern Tale 19k

for_storys_sake

Smut: None

Dream is not the only encounter Hob has in a tavern (or around one).

: Hob meets Agnus Nutter in the 1600’s and gives him three prophecies, some of which may include a certain angel, demon, duck, raven, and anthropomorphic personification of dreams.

Park Morning Meeting 1k

obaewankenope (rexthranduil)

Smut: None

“Anthony J Crowley,” Dream of the Endless intoned in that strangely deep, yet still somehow soft voice of his. The kind of voice that, written down, the dialogue would be bold and italicized for emphasis.

“Uh, yep, that’s me!” Crowley, in a decidedly less imposing and cosmically empowered tone of voice, acknowledged the Endless in front of him.

; Dream and Crowley have a little chat

strange friends in strange places 11k

multifandom_fanfic_writer

Smut: None

Hob makes a friend at the Classic Car Convention and stumbles upon a strange bookshop. When his Stranger asks him for help to find a certain grimoire, things get even more confusing.

: Hob and Crowley are car besties whose husbands have a pension for misunderstandings.

The Beating of Will Shaxberg 1k

DianOfTheCity_County

Smut: Implied

Hob and Crowley are drinking buddies (insert we cry together about our unrequired *requiered* love life's) they both hate Shakespeare who has the entire intellectual attention of their beloveds. Wouldn't it be great to punch the bastard? Wait! Destiny is a cunning bitch. ENTER SHAKESPEARE.

: Exactly what it sounds like just a lot of crack

Alternate Universe

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? 2k

SadRumiHours

Smut: Yes-High

Lord Morpheus Burgess, tired of his cheating husband and his lonely existence, seeks out comfort in the form of a famous actor; Robert Gadling.

: Dream is Princess Diana basically, short but sweet. I would totally recommend you read the second part of this two-part series first.

It's Only Forever, Not Long At All 25k

BeholdingTheGaytimes

Smut: Yes-High

Hob should know by now not to go along with Death’s schemes, but here he is at a masquerade ball for her baby brother. He’s never met him, but Death's told Hob that he was indeed that pale lord that left the White Horse in a stink just before Death sauntered up and gave Hob immortality.

Surrounded by impossible creatures and otherworldly beings, one specific person catches his attention: an inhumanly beautiful dark-haired man in a raven mask. Hob loses track of him and the night spirals out in mayhem as Hob gets himself into trouble. Fey trouble to be exact.

: Vampire!Dream meets his sister's immortal friend Hob Gadling who accidently got themselves in an ownership battle with the fae.

One-Shots

'cause every Dreamlord's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man 4k

hardly_an_escape

Smut: Suggestive-Light

Hob and Dream attend a university fundraising gala

: Dream is probed into attending Professor Hob’s fundraising gala

Impractical Design 1k

Anonymous

Smut: None

Hob reread the instructions carefully, read them again, and then checked that he had all the right parts for what felt like the thousandth time. He ignored the steadily rising tide of confusion, the sheer incomprehension he felt—Hob had lived for hundreds of years and he knew how to build things—projecting what he hoped was a convincing aura of calm.

: just the fluffiest IKEA furniture struggle fic

Summer Rain 4k

Aria_Lerendeair

Smut: None

Hob is mourning the decline of scent marking as a habit in society, and Dream steps in to remind him that not everyone has forgotten it, and is willing to forgo it.

: Best of mutual pining and adorable Dream

Make My Lullaby a Fairytale 4k

Purplesauris

Smut: None

Hob has a penchant for helping others, and when that means taking care of a baby, he isn't quite ready for the way his eldtritch partner reacts. (Much better than he expected)

: Dream + Hob + Tiny baby, the fluffiest of fluffs Dream is so soft and parental here

The Things Dreams and Lies Share in Common 4k

crowgee

Smut: Yes-Mild

Recently heart broken, Dream finds his little sister, Delirium, at his door step wishing for him to come with her to find their brother. She even wrote a list - a list of people they must meet people who can help. On that list the name 'Hob Gadling' catches on the glints of stars that flicker and burn in Dream's eye.

; Dream having no concept of communicating feelings properly and having to fix it

It's Raining, It's Pouring 2k

TheLibraryoftheForest

Smut: None

Dream has always loved the rain, just as much, if not more than the sunlight. He knows it's not a shared opinion amongst everyone, but when it starts affecting his creations, what Dream loves starts to become the problem rather than the solution. Enter: Hob Gadling.

; Hob being a literal ray of sunshine

Which Betokeneth Concorde 1k

Dira Sudis (dsudis)

Smut: None-Suggestive

Dream had been dimly aware that one of the many things he would have to face, as the price of courting Hob Gadling, was his own refusal to dance.

: Dream doesn’t dance but he likes to watch his idiot dance

Minute Affections 2k

Wwhand

Smut: None

The simple joy of having a person you're fond of, who is also a cat.

: Adorable fluffy Cat!Dream and Hob

If we have each other, then we'll both be fine 3k

Altair2714

Smut: Suggestive Content

Hob relocates to the Appalachian Mountains and Dream meets him at a bar there. The two philosophize about change, death, the unknown, and companionship. They come to an understanding.

: Hob and Dream philosophize about the world and there growing relationship

The reason we have hands (holding)

Karalyn

Smut: None

Morpheus watches Hob casually touch the other humans in his life. He thinks that, just maybe, his friend will extend that same gesture to him.

: Technically a two-shot but one-shot is more of an atmosphere than anything, very fluffy very cute features Dream having very serious conversations with kittens + Jealous Dream

sometime of the night 2k

scienceblues

Smut: None

He doesn’t realize that this is one of those times where Dream has decided they’ll be spending time together, no matter what Hob might have to say to the contrary, until a large black cat leaps onto his desk.

: Dream being a bitchy cat and Hob loving it (sort of)

Tropetember 2022 - Dreamling Edition 30 one shots

Geekygirl24

Smut: None

A series of Dream/Hob Gadling one shots, all focusing on the daily prompts of Tropetember 2022

: Just a bunch of minds soothing Dreamling domestic one-shots for the soul

In Sickness and In Health 7k

littledreamling (k_crow)

Smut: None

“Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Dream replied easily. Hob made a vague noise, deep in his throat, and let his forehead fall forward to bonk gently against Dream’s shoulder as if the mere whisper of effort was overwhelming. Dream had to admit, he had never succumbed to human illness—maybe it truly was overwhelming. The sight of his love, trembling and miserable, made his entire chest ache and he gave in to the impulse to press a gentle kiss into Hob’s hair.

: The king of dreams and nightmares trying to make soup for his sick boyfriend

A Different Kind of Hold 4k

FluidMimikyu

Smut: Mild-Implied

"Though Hob Gadling was only human, he caught the attention of most everyone everywhere he went."

A one-shot not only based other fanfics on here and posts elsewhere stating Dream is possessive of those he loves, but also on the Wiki stating, "Despite his cold exterior, Dream is often passionate and infatuated with his lovers."

: Dream collars Hob, very cute and domestic

Hob Whump

A sweet dream 1k

Starsniper

Smut: None

Hob is captured instead of Dream. But when Dream finally finds him, he may be too late.

: One of those Fics that make your heart physically clench a little

My Stranger, My Dream 67k

SigniorBenedickofPadua

Smut: Yes (Chapter 24 only)

Hob has been around death. Living in London throughout multiple plague outbreaks and fires, as well as making a living soldiering and dabbling in banditry, will do that to you. What he doesn't know is that Death has been around Hob as well. He has no idea that when his Stranger left him that night in 1389 after their first meeting, the woman who came up to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Good luck, friend,” was Death incarnate.

Hob doesn’t know that he is one of few things in this world that has been Touched by Death and lived. Had he known this, he might not have been as confused as he is when his body slams into the floor of a dim, candle-lit cellar and he finds himself surrounded by hooded figures and a gold circle on the floor. That is all he manages to perceive before everything goes blurry and consciousness slips away from him again.

Roderick Burgess' spell does not summon Death, but someone who has been touched by Death. Hob Gadling ends up in his cellar instead of Dream.

: This one was a GREAT fic, a total slowburn between Hob and Dream, and nice plot and relationship progression featuring traumatized Hob and Smitten Dream. The author graciously made a SEQUEL, which is every bit as fantastic as this one

SEQUEL TO “My Stranger, My Dream” (Categorized under “Hob saves Dream” as well)

Body and Soul, Always and Forever 50k

SigniorBenedickofPadua

Smut: None

: BAMF regent Hob saving Dream, Desire being just a silly little brother, and very unorganized cults.

Limbo (ART comic, VERY well done; check out the artist they are AMAZING)

NathanWonderwolf

Smut: None

AU, in which Robert sacrifices himself for Morpheus, does not die in the usual sense, but falls into Limbo. A place where people's consciousness is in a coma. The dream wants to return its knight but does not expect to find him.

: I adore this interpretation of how Hob might meet his demise.

When the end of the world came, I sat there and sipped my Early Grey 1k

for_storys_sake

Smut: None

He looks back down at the book he is reading. Only twenty words left. He wants to know how the story finishes and it won’t do to wait to read it before he goes to sleep, because he doesn’t plan to go to sleep again.

His eyes glide off the last sentences and he smiles at it. A happy ending. At the bottom of the page, the last word. Fin.

: Death puts up the chairs to the universe and brings Hob Gadling with her at last.

Who will save you when you fall? 1k

Daviesroyal

Smut: None

Dream has escaped his prison and recovered his tools. The Dreaming is recovering. All that is left for him to do is settle things with Hob Gadling, the way he should have done in 1889.

: Pure angst and absolutely no comfort

Prometheus, Bound. 18k

LeotheLionathefootofOrion

Smut: None

In the year 1916, Roderick Burgess attempts to summon and capture Death. He misses his mark in quite a way, but he’s never been one to waste an opportunity.

: Hob gets violently tortured, and the Corinthian is the Corinthian

23 notes · View notes

juminies · 9 months ago

Note

I hadn't seen the version of the album you're talking about so I just looked it up and it is VERY cute omg. The dandelion seeds are so perfect.

It's fascinating that you see your personality as being so blue! I would probably associate you more so with the second palette if I had to choose. To me, my colour palette is very much something along the lines of neapolitan ice cream :'') Creams & dusty pinks & neutral browns. Maybe throw in some slightly muted blues or lilacs. This sort of thing.

Your character ranking isn't entirely what I expected honestly—I'm surprised by Yoosung above Saeyoung in particular! I enjoyed reading your reasoning too, so here is mine:

Jumin [the audience gasps]: I don't think I have to elaborate here

Jaehee/Saeyoung: These two are hard for me to decide between because I think my preference between them fluctuates a lot. I actually like Jaehee a lot more in practice than I do in theory, as in I don't think about her much but when I'm actually chatting with her past the first few incredibly formal days and she gets a little bit silly I am really a fan of her. I think part of it also comes from the fact I connect with women a million times easier than I connect with men so if I was actually thrown into the RFA I would 100% gravitate towards her the most. But I also like to cause trouble on purpose from time to time so I think Saeyoung and I would have a lot of fun together in the long run, past the whole pushing away his loved ones habit

Zen: I used to kind of hate him for the casual misogyny but these days I do think he has good, just sort of misguided, intentions and is very kind. I think I would get annoyed at him often for projecting some sort of damsel in distress narrative onto me but I could talk him around quite easily and we would probably end up close

Jihyun: The saviour complex is too much for me but he goes here because his dynamic with Jumin makes me feel insane and so I think about him often. I also feel like once he gets his baggage under control he would be a good partner

Yoosung: He's sweet but just doesn't do it for me really. I think we could get along quite well but (like you with Jaehee) not connect much past both being RFA members

Saeran: More than anything I would like to put him in a small jar decorated in moss and foliage like he's a bug and observe his behaviour (he likes flowers so it's ok). I spent more of his route feeling awful for him than wanting to date him. Has some absolute banger themes though! We love you endless struggle and I am the strongest

Vanderwood: He's also kind of just Seven's sidekick to me (sorry Vandy) but I do think I might actually like him if he had more Moments

Rika: Playing another story did actually make me more interested in her and her motivations but she is so confusing and it irritates me. That said I think if I was taken to Mint Eye I would fall for her because unfortunately I am not immune to pretty manipulative women

Hi Xela :~) I had actually been meaning to ask you your thoughts on The Winning so I was happy to see you mention it in response to Faye 🥰 Shopper is definitely my favourite too.

Now life AND fictional men:

1. If you had to assign yourself a colour palette what would it look like? I think it's always interesting to know what colours people associate themselves with!

2. I feel like I still don't really know how you feel about any of the mysme characters aside from Jumin and V, so please rank them. Just based on personal preference 😌

The MVs for The Winning are insane!! I love the concept I love her acting I love everything about them. Some of the sounds like Holssi is more experimental but they're essentially IU. And the physical album with Tweety and dandelions on the acrylic is so cute.

I found this palette on Pinterest and I see my personality as this!

My taste in colours is more like this though

Mysme character ranking based on personal connection and unexplainable annoyance, here goes:

Jumin & V: my blog is the explanation

Zen: if there were no Jumin and V and he could be more empathetic, I'd choose him

Jaehee: she's cool and really nice but I don't think I can connect well with her. I can't see us being close beyond our relationship as the RFA members. But I do want to whisk her away to a healthy work environment and shower her with Zen merch

Yoosung: sometimes I get annoyed at him, but when he's not blaming V without evidence or comparing me to Rika, he's all right

Saeyoung: such a fun friend to have. His tsundere defense mechanism of pushing me away with harsh words is a huge dating dealbreaker tho. I also get protective over V when he beats him up what can I say I put my man first

Saeran: (I'm wary of admitting this because people love him) as Ray his codependency alarms me and as Suit Saeran he starves me and is verbally cruel and physically aggressive at one point. I know he's traumatised, but respectfully I don't want to go through all that and wait for him to treat me better just because I ~believe~ the nice him is in there somewhere. Then as GE Saeran he's just too..... sweet......

Vanderwood: neutral. I find him bland. Whenever he comes out I'm just like oh, 707's sidekick (he'd kick me if he heard this)

Rika: I don't like abusive characters in general. Her villainy also seems two-dimensional and the sun metaphors are exhausting.

Ann give me your color palette and mysme ranking too!

#ps i will get around to the ask you sent soon! i need to think about it properly

10 notes · View notes

syubub · 3 years ago

Text

May 13th Reading

Definitely long awaited and way bigger than I intended it to be so buckle up.

Funky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!

Oh boy. The continuation of yoongis soulmate saga.

(Note frome future me: it's not proofread but I'm hungry. Sorry for mistakes!)

So so so so

Let's start.

I started with all the normal jazz. Connecting with his energy and shit. Same as usual same old same old. Platform= same same. I was like, "hey, let's talk about your soulmate and the whole may 13th shit" and we connected via energy stringy thing to the forehead and such. I was intresting bc my end of the string was kinda my energy color! Neato. Looks like some rest has really done me good!

Okay, here's where I start actually asking shit. I made notes at this point before the reading as I usually do. I'm just gonna insert the screen shot here.

The 14 thing really fucked me up. You'll see later. Also, when I got the whole Pisces Jupiter thing I had to do me some googling bc we established that Jupiter went into Pisces ON May 13th so I was like?? Am I missing something?

I was. I forgot that it goes retrograde and then co.es back to Pisces on December 28th. And I do indeed think it to be significant.

The shit about temperance makes a lot of sense. In yoongis first soulmate read I flipped my shit bc he was like, "You're gonna get temperance reverse" in regards to a card for his soulmate and I was like "pft whatever. Don't play me like that"

And then I got temperance reverse. It's been a significant card from the jump.

I asked him if he had any advice for his soulmate and that's what "Don't wait for big things, you'll miss the small ones that lead you to bigger things" and "Look for facts before assuming" and "Don't try pushing it, forcing it won't make sense" and "A spade is a spade/ ace is an ace" and "Don't make ill informed guesses" all were

Now this part:

"Union has happened , yet to on the physical"

Gave me some hints thankfully because he straight up said no more hints.

This ties back into the whole Jupiter thing too. The seeds are/ have been planted and now they have to grow before they can be harvested.

Well Mr. Yoongi, I'm impatient and I don't want to wait. I want to see you in love pronto.

Anyways

He showed me a little dream box/ trinket box looking thing and a super vague Keychain with no further explanation... so... there's that I guess.

I can't quite decide if "Don't make ill informed guesses" was a tongue-in-cheek pike at me or if it was genuine advice to his soulmate? He just loves to not explain things.

Now let's begin the monster read.

So. The first row of cards

I asked the question, "what the fuck was May 13th and what was it's purpose in regards to your connection"

Important is what it was lol. I interpret this as them finding their footing and this being the starting point of the genuine foundation being layer. Like they've been manifesting eachother for a while but May 13th marked the start of them making the real life changes in their actual lives that will be the set up for them meeting.

The seven of coins is about thoughtful planning and creating security/ stable plan. The tower is essentially ripping away anything and everything that was built on unstable foundation and challenging/ testing your character (an extremely rude awakeing if you will). Judgement is releasing the past so you can rise above it and confronting yourself as you are (Also legit awakening) the queen of coins is financial security and self confidence in your abilities. Ten of coins is prosperity and abundance and most of all, stability. Eight of wands is explosion of potential and rapid movement. Temperance is awareness and balance between physical and spiritual. It's also that quiet peace where you find balance.

So. Seeing all those cards it really does seem like maybe his soulmate took on something new that could lead straight to union? Same for yoongi. I'd like to analyze and recent or new-ish habits or hobbies he's picked up?

Moving right along though. I asked what the 13th did for each of them in their personal life and personal journey. Kinda like what came as a result of that energy? Let's start with yoongles

This was really intresting to me. I think he definitely gained some form of clarity about the situation with that sun card. The 5 of cups tells me that either he was kinda forced to confront some of his flaws in a way that he was trying to avoid or he had to consciously let go of something dear to him? Could be something he had to leave behind because it crumbled with the tower moment but he didn't see it coming or didn't know that it was time to part with it? With that queen of wands though fits beautifully with the sun! Its like he's found warmth after a long winter. Definitely found a spark of compassion and generosity from a place of happiness and love rather than anger, fear, obligation or pitty.

I asked for clarity cards/ anything else that may 13th signified bringing in and we got the 2 of cups and 10 of swords. I have two thoughts. Either he let go of a relationship that he was already in because he didn't feel as though they were particularly compatible anymore (Also ties into the above section) OR the 13th had made him very much consciously aware of his soulmates incoming status and he is now preparing and working on himself for when this person comes. The 10 of swords would be him releasing the past and the pain and any ill fitting behavior that don't vibe with him any longer. Yellow really seems to be working for him by the way.

Soulmate time

Lol. All signs point to his soulmate genuinely starting a new venture. New creative pursuit that will bring them good money. 10 of pentacles is abundance, prosperity and stability. The ace of wands is a new creative spark and passion and it's the first big steps into something new. The 2 of wands is "the world is in the palm of your hands" vibes. Choices need to be made swiftly and with the ace of wands I think they will be. With the heirophant too, it will be a well informed decision because they've been manifesting this and has been searching for all the possible information.

As for clarity, we have the moon. Damn. Soulmates been doing that shadow work. Dredging up all their bullshit and getting rid of it while still taking the time to sit with it and release it so nothing is unresolved. Also probably extra creative due to all the emotional baggage being thrown out. (Definitely helping with the ace of wands vibes tbh)

Now for the bad boys in the middle

The question I asked is what those individual changes (detailed in the last two sections) will bring for the bond and I just can with them. These fuckers. I am so invested in their love story bc it's so... them? And just so fucking ROMANTIC. UGH I CAN'T.

Back to the point. High priestess, 4 of wands and the lovers. The high priestess is deep knowing and insane intuition, the 4 of wands is the purest joy and marriage and the lovers is well, the lovers.a magical union.

FUCK DUDE I NEED THIS TO BE A ROMCOM.

For the row of bottom cards

I asked if they had anything at all to add so I'm gonna explain each card individually bc I think they could be individual tid bits of shit.

Knight of coins is good news about finances/ money looking promising and organized work (also dependability!!). Death is all about transformation, the beginning of a new chapter and accepting in order to move foward. Ace of coins is spiritual and material abundance and also a reminder to keep grounded. Page of swords is confidence, important news coming and really good insight! Roots out secrets or hidden things like a truffle pig. The star is promising potential, healing and guidance from an enexpected place. The two of cups is a soul connection, love, intuition especially in regards to another person and a good bind. The emperor is self awareness, foresight, fearlessness to achieve a goal and confidence. Eight of coins rev is poor discipline and skating by on low effort.

Now to the sides!

Yoongi is the left, soulmate is the right.

So, let's begin with yoongi. The first two cards are anything he wants to say to his soulmate. Wheel of fortune and three of swords reverse. I take this as "its all in divine time/ it's destiny" (wheel of fortune) and "trust your intuition. It's okay to get hurt, you just need to remember you can always pick yourself up" (3of swords rev.)

We have now cards that I asked what he was learning through this process/ in this time. Be positive and first step.

The last two cards are affirmations he wants to give his soulmate.

"When I introduce joy to a situation, I change the vibrational frequency of what's happening around me" and "directing my focus onto what's thriving creates more of what I want"

Now for soulmates cards (same structure)

Strength and eight of swords. "You're stronger than you think. Take every part of yourself and acknowledge it. You're a force to be reckoned with" (strength) and (soulmate snapped at him on this) "the only thing holding you captive is you."

Now we have peer pressure (I think soulmate is learning to say "fuck you" and "fuck off" to people who have a set idea of how everyone should be living their lives), emotional healing and open your arms to receiving.

Then we have "its good to feel good" (lol I feel like yoongi definitely needs this one) and "when I connect to the spiritual realm, I open the door to recieve divine guidance, clear direction, and great wisdom"

The last stretch my friends.

So. Completion, leave behind the things that no longer serve you. Exist in the present and don't keep mulling over the past or any future happenings. Magic, pay attention to the magic around you. Listen for the signs of the universe and take them as they come (essentially listen to divine guidance) . Be open minded but logical as well. Luminous warrior, try focusing on the good in yourself instead of berating yourself for every small flaw. Spiritual path, self explanatory. The blade, your power can be a weapon when used willy nilly (most often wounding the wielder) or it can heal. Don't fear it but also consider how you choose to utilize it. The give away, be greaful for the sake of being greatful for it, not because you want something in return. The rain maker, manifestation station. Create with the tools you have because you have everything you need in order to manifest. "Don't take life personally"

Now we have heaven sent.

""Let yourself be helped" assistance is coming your way so act on it and say yes"

" This Oracle also comes with the message that you are to trust in the things that you feel and say to others without knowing why. It moves them. You might not understand, but through trust you are allowing yourself not to overthink and censor yourself. As such you are able to become a vessel through which the spiritual gift can be passed on to others. Don't block yourself. Let life happen through you. Only benefit can come from this."

And free from judgment, free to love

" If you have been asking life for a solution to a specific difficulty you have been having, this Oracle comes with the message that a solution is in gestation right now. This situation is already being sorted out and the resolution will come to fruition very soon. Hold tight and wait for the eminent birth of that resolution."

" This Oracle also brings you a message about love. You may find that you are loving, or soon will love, in a different way. You may worry about this love, given that it defies what you have known or been taught about love. Perhaps you are becoming able to love another tremendously, even though you don't have much of a personal relationship with them. You might question if this love is real. It is real Kama it is just happening at a different level to the love and attachment you experience when you are involved in a personal relationship with someone. It is not more or less, it is just a different facet of love. It may be that you are opening up to love the planet and her creatures, including the animals, the ocean dwelling life, your own body, the trees and so on, more than before period you may feel passionately purposeful about giving your time and energy to causes that protect and nurture the Earth and her creatures. You are affirmed in this love too. The universal mother is operating through you to nurture life. She will support you in your work, so that you can continue To come from love and not become drained, depleted or lost in despair or fear of futility. Instead, you will be energised and expanded by your dedicated service to life."

" Finally, this Oracle has a message for those who may be feeling alone or lonely in a need of greater nurturing from others. You are asked to stop, relax, centre and settle into your body to feel your connection with life itself. The air in your lungs is the same as the air that moves through the trees. The water in your blood is the same water that fills the oceans and is moved by the phases of the moon. The flesh of your body is the same substance as the body of the Earth itself. The heat in your digestive system is the same fire and heat as that from the Sun. Feel this connection, then do something nice for another without agenda. Make a donation, even if just a small one, smile, say a prayer, sent out a good thought or make a wish for another. That's it. You have connected to life again and in doing so, life can connect with you. And so it shall.

And that's all for the cards but but but.

Someone (either my guide or yoongi) was like, "do a song. Do a song. Do a song." And I was like, "oki doki, sounds good.

So I asked what numbers I should try refreshing and then it hit me. The number 14 came up before the reading and it seemed a bit misplaced? So I did 14 shuffles and look what popped up

You gotta be fucking with me.

Istg these fools will actually be the death of me dude. Euphoria is so romantic and I lowkey feels like it describes a bit of what their bond must be like.

YOONGGGIIII

Anyway,

I came back to the platform to be like, "thanks homie" and it was weird bc he was practically pure energy? Like usually I visualize his energy as what his physical body looks like because it's easier to comprehend? But nope, he was just a big shimmery glob of energy.

As I was going to disconnect, a few things happened. I felt tingly and the platform was vibrating almost? So I was like, "hold on, what the fuck is this?"

And then

It hit me

"MIN YOONGI IS YOUR SOULMATE HERE??"

I could tell this fuckin asshole was smug even in his blue glob form.

The color was... blue like yoongi but also a light lavender/ pink kinda vibe. Pretty damn distinct.

I was so stoked and I thought we'd all get to chat and I could yell at his soulmate for being an elusive asshat

But Mr smug butt had different plans.

My dude dropped a little marble thing in my hand and I was like ??? And he was like, "you'll know when you need it" and I was like ?????

My guide took pity on me and said, "it's just a representation on information that you've been given but it isn't the proper time to unpack it yet"

Cool cool so like and energetic zip file that will release itself whenever it damn well pleases? Cool cool cool.

(Asshole)

Anyway, I genuinely think that my excitement of this whole situation must somehow also influence how yoongis energy handles my prodding? Like what the fuck is this marble bullshit?

To top it all off, he gives me a friendly shove off of his platform.

Thanks, buddy.

Now we are here. And as always, I'm left with more questions.

My main take away is that amay 13th through July 28th will be all the foundation and ground work and December 28th 2021 through May 10th (11th? 9th?) 2022 will be a more likely time for physical union and actual relationship stuffs.

Anyone who knows more about astrology please feel free to chime in on this whole Jupiter in Pisces bit! My understanding is super surface level!!

~~~~

That was a big boi and now my thumbs hurt real bad. Hope you were entertained by the chaos.

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #yoongi #bts imagines #bts readings #yoongi imagine #bts suga #min suga #suga #min yoongi

128 notes · View notes

lovecanbesostrange · 3 years ago

Text

Welcome to another installment of random RRCAU fic, from the big, big universe that lives on the Ruby Lucas Harem Discord, because konako got that one random ask that time. (ask us about the insane College AU now, I dare you, we have answers you don’t even want)

So, if you follow that, have another scene. But this one is, heavy, because it’s all about the big dramatic death around the end of the second year. konako made me cry with the short snippet, so I will now repay that favor with the aftermath in a bit of a long form.

(this is towards the end of Ruby’s sophomore year at college, Granny has just died)

Ruby felt numb. If she could even call it feeling. But it’s either this or crying. And this is more helpful to get through tasks on auto-pilot. Sometimes there was the anger, now like an old friend. But it’s snapping at her friends, pounding the sandbag at the gym, running like mad on the field (Coach is a human after all, didn’t even make her do laps after clearly running the wrong plays). The last few days were a hazy blur. Food, hugging, a bit of sport, people, asking for an assignment extension.

And the phone call with Anita.

She was numb during that, too. And it was for the best. They both knew Granny wanted to be cremated. Just like her husband. But Ruby knew that she also wanted her ashes to be scattered like his. And Anita had said no. She had made arrangements for the urn to be buried. A small service and a burial. Ruby had said she’d be there.

“Whatever.”

A response Ruby knew well.

Regina and Mary Margaret had brought her to the airport. She was using up Regina’s miles again. But she didn’t argue. When she landed she thought she’d get herself to the trailer park somehow, maybe a car rental. Ruby hadn’t thought about that. There was something though. And yes, there was, Mary Margaret had told her - Eva was already waiting at the exit.

Another hug. Long. Warm. Welcoming. It brought Ruby out of the haze a bit, so new tears fell. Tears for Granny. Dead. The last bit of happy memories tied to that place her mind kept insisting on calling home.

“... you can sleep in Mary’s room and I’ll take you to the airport day after tomorrow of course.” Eva already had it planned out, telling her in the car. “Ruby? Is that all okay with you?” Ruby tore off her gaze from the scenery outside, pulling her head away from the glass of the passenger’s window.

“Can we go to the Terrace?” Suddenly the name sounded hollow. “I’d like to get a couple of things.” Maybe she would be too late. Maybe Anita had thrown everything out already.

“Right away?”

“If you don’t mind, please.”

“Of course not, honey.” Eva held the steering wheel with her left hand and put her right on Ruby’s knee, squeezing. Comfort. Reassurance. “Tell me what I can do and consider it done.”

The hint of a smile pulled on the corners of Ruby’s mouth. This was Eva. This had always been Eva, even when she didn’t understand it. She got things done for her.

Pulling up at the trailer park felt strange. For one it was because Ruby was sitting in a nice car. Not rushing through the side entrance on her bike. It was also because Ruby could count the times she’d been here in the almost past two years and every time she got away from it, the place seemed smaller and further away. But mostly, without Granny this was just a glorified parking lot with a bit of green.

Eva parked and waited. Ruby unfastened her seat-belt, but she couldn’t get out. She looked over. Ruby didn’t know if she wanted to go in alone. If she could. Was it better to have Eva there as back-up? Or was that disrespectful?

“I… would you… can you maybe come with me? I don’t know if…” She didn’t know if she could even step a foot inside or would crumble at the front door the way she had days ago in front of her dorm.

“I’m right behind you.” Eva smiled. The warm mom-smile.

Ruby didn’t know if Anita would be here now. She didn’t bother knocking though and didn’t need a key. Nobody needed a key to get in, when you knew the lock wasn’t working properly and all you needed to do was lift the front door at the right angle and push hard.

Ruby opened her mouth, but closed it immediately to not say hallo into the void. Everything looked mostly as expected. There were a few empty alcohol bottles stacked next to the kitchen sink, Anita had been digging in. But she still got herself together to not let them lie around. Maybe that was good. Maybe that was something to care about.

Suddenly her home - the trailer - looked depressing. More than usual. Granny wasn’t sitting outside or lying in bed. The tiny tv was not running. That specific background noise missing was a big deal. Sure, Granny had been in and out of the hospital, but the finality was felt.

Ruby breathed in, the hitch alerted Eva and she touched her on her back, steadied her. The smell. Oh the smell was home. The mix of the cheap laundry detergent, the sharp air freshener, the lingering scent of Granny mixed with Anita’s aggressive perfume. It smelt a bit different than she remembered, but that was probably herself missing from this equation for a long time now.

Slowly Ruby stepped towards the bedroom. The smell of Granny got stronger. Without thinking about it she sat down on the bed. The linens crisp and clean, waiting for someone to sleep here again. There were pills on the nightstand. The little tub with daily doses already in order. Ruby picked it up. Monday and Tuesday were empty, she looked at Wednesday and the morning was missing. Right, after that Granny had called an ambulance. Thursday’s pills were untouched. Thursday had been the last time she had seen her. Ever.

Anita hadn’t touched anything in here as far as Ruby could tell. It was a surprise. Maybe she didn’t know what to do with all the stuff. And maybe, just maybe, there was more emotional baggage inside of her and she couldn’t let go of her mother. She had never left either. She could have. She could have let Granny rot alone in here and not just disappear a few days at a time, but forever. And yet Anita had always come back. Despite everything.

Ruby put the pill box back down and grabbed the framed photo. It was Granny’s wedding picture. She had never stopped loving that man that barely had time to get to know his own daughter and who never knew that his memory lived in a granddaughter he never met at all. They were a handsome couple. This was one of three pictures she knew she wanted above all else.

Her hand was already under the bed, searching the shoe box stashed there. Yes. She opened it and was greeted with all the letters she had sent home the last two years. It felt like so little, but she knew it had meant much. Granny had taken the photos from some of these out and put them on the wall next to the tv. But the pictures Ruby was searching were underneath it all.

An old black and white photograph. More brownish actually, genuine sepia, grainy, worn on the edges. It was Granny as a child with her three older brothers. It was the only thing Ruby knew of, that even proved they once had been alive. Before that fateful accident. Three brothers and their father, all gone in one go.

This family was cursed. Mothers and daughters left. And Granny’s mother hadn’t made it much longer on her own. Maybe Granny and Ruby got along, because they skipped a generation between. Mothers and daughters gave each other plenty of resentment.

And then there was the third picture. Granny with her dear husband and a fancy new car. The red Camaro had been out of their price range, but on their anniversary they had gone to the dealership, got a long test drive out of it and made that a date. Granny had talked about that day a lot. Grandfather promised them a brighter future where they would be able to afford a car like that. Not just stealing fake moments, but creating happy ones for real.

That had never happened.

Granny had deserved more and yet life had rejected her. But she had held on. Despite her heart condition, the many losses of family members around her, the slipping into poverty. Granny had always held on. For over 80 years. Nobody had thought that would even be possible. So maybe it was okay to say goodbye now. Now that Ruby understood how Granny could look at a picture of her dead husband for hours and feel nothing but love.

Ruby put the frame into the shoe box, then her gaze fell onto the chair. Granny’s knitted cardigan hung over the back. She’d always worn that grey monstrosity, though it was unflattering even on her. Ruby got to her feet and picked it up. She buried her face in the fabric. Granny. Yes, she wanted this. The pictures, her own letters, the cardigan. It meant something.

Tears began to fall again. Ruby wasn’t numb at all. Breathing in all the memories came rushing back. Sitting on Granny’s lap during Christmas story time; teaching her the sacred lasagna recipe; listening to unimportant happenings at school; the encouraging words when Anita’s indifference turned into vile insults; daydreaming of long trips with fingers on the maps of an old atlas; sitting in front of Granny’s bed, eating something from the microwave and letting Granny catch her up on her soaps. There had been love.

Eva had been silent all this time and given Ruby space. Now she stepped closer and wrapped her up in her arms. Ruby hugged the cardigan and felt Eva kissing her on the head. This was goodbye. But she wouldn’t be alone.

The service was lovely, but what really got to Ruby was seeing people attending. She had thought she’d be there alone with Anita, maybe Eva in the back. But there were a few neighbors. Mrs. Johnson even gave her a quick hug, she had come by like once a month to do Granny’s hair for free, but really it was about the conversation. Nurse Wilcox had retired herself three years ago, but before she had worked at the doctor’s office Granny got her subscriptions from. She had seen the tiny ad in the paper and wanted to pay her respects, remembering one of her favourite patients.

A part of Ruby wanted to scream, because she knew burying the urn in the dirt was wrong. Even though Anita had picked a nice little headstone. Ruby knew this was money she couldn’t really afford to spend. But causing a scene in the cemetery was the last thing she would do. She’d rather run away and not attend at all, while more than a dozen people paid their respects.

There wasn’t much said between Ruby and Anita. Who cared about one more argument and hollow questions about their current living situations? Ruby would remember the way Eva kept holding her hand, let her ramble through incoherent memories and tugged her into Mary’s bed. (Something Ruby rejected by getting up at night to sleep in the treehouse, the cardigan close to her chest.)

And when summer came around, Ruby would clean a whole week out of her schedule. No summer class, no work, not anybody around. Maybe it was irresponsible to blow through a portion of her savings, but she found a car rental that could get her that red 1975 Chevrolet Camaro. And maybe it was called grave robbing, but she dug up Granny’s urn and put her on the passenger’s seat. A week on the road right up to the beach where Granny had scattered her husband’s ashes.

That would be Ruby’s last goodbye. When she finally could let go of the woman, who had mostly raised her. The road trip they had talked about in giggling voices.

Turning into the parking lot was hard. And just when Ruby doubted she could scatter these ashes alone, she spotted Regina waiting for her. She had send so many texts to her friends and called to let them know she was okay, that Regina knew when she would arrive at her destination. Regina, who had been there when Ruby had last spoken to Granny. Fitting. Granny’s final blessing.

#OUaT #I mean it is fanfic - in free form - and for a limited number of people... I could explain it all to you!#Ruby Lucas #let me flood that character tag to show my love for this character (I can't stop hurting)#konako #she has to be tagged because it's all her fault anyway #RRCAU #(the football AU where we surprised ourselves when it was about football that one time)#the trigger warning here would be major character death - even though the content warning needs to read grief+memories

18 notes · View notes

midnightsnyx · 4 years ago

Text

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: part 6

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: well... here it is lol 2(or 3?) weeks late. sorry for the wait, this chapter was just a bitch to write and every time i thought i was done, i wasn’t happy with it & i didn’t wanna post just for the sake of posting. but i stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish this, so technically it is sunday so im posting on schedule lol

im not sure how many parts are left to this story, maybe two or three + an epilogue but i haven’t decided yet.

also, this gif made me feel things 😂

word count: 2.1k (i wish they were longer too but im doing the best i can😩)

warnings: none other than a couple swear words

Part 6

29 weeks

“What are you doing?”

“Researching how to murder someone and get away with it.” You mutter, typing where to buy a tiger in Google.

Becca gives you a wary look and sits next to you. “Everything okay?”

“No!” You groan in frustration, tossing your phone on the coffee table. “Matthew is driving me insane.”

She frowns. “Is he being an ass?”

“He’s being nice. Too nice.” You grumble, ignoring when Becca chuckles. “It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing the doctor’s appointment even though I told him I forgive him.”

Becca raises an eyebrow at you and you try to ignore her pointed look. “Do you though?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask defensively.

“You’re different around him now and I’m sure he’s noticed. It’s like you don’t trust him.”

You start to deny her accusation but stop to think about it. Were you more cautious around Matt lately? You certainly didn’t let yourself depend on him for things that you had been before, too afraid that he would let you down. You wanted to, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he’s let you down before and there’s always a chance he will again.

It’s as if Becca can read your mind because she shrugs. “You should be honest with him.”

However, something you’ve learned recently is that too much honestly can get you in trouble.

. . .

Sending Matt a text that said we need to talk, probably wasn’t the best approach because it took him approximately fifteen minutes to show up at your apartment and his is a half hour drive away from yours.

So his windblown hair and wide eyes really weren’t a surprise when you opened your front door.

“So, I think I should have worded that text a little better.”

“You think?” He huffs, walking past you when you step aside. He doesn’t even bother to take his shoes or jacket off, walking straight to the living room and turning to look at you.

“I’m sorry. For whatever I did.” He says and you groan.

“That’s the problem! Stop being sorry for things. It’s driving me nuts.”

He frowns and looks at you in confusion. “So… you don’t want me to be sorry for things?”

“I don’t want you to not be sorry for things, I just want you to stop being sorry for everything. It’s like you’re walking on eggshells around me.”

“I’m just trying to make-”

“Make up for missing the appointment.” you say, finishing his sentence. “I know.” your hand falls to your stomach and you sigh. “We’re going to be parents in less than three months. We need to start trusting each other.”

Matt slowly walks over to you and reaches out for your hand which you let him hold. His thumb rubs across the back of it and he nods.

“You’re right.”

You grin and lightly punch his shoulder with your free hand. “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

He smiles, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You ignore the way it makes your heart race because the last thing you need right now is your feelings for him to get even more confusing when you’re both finally on the same page.

Things are good now and you can’t risk messing it up.

. . .

31 weeks

He’s like a kid in a candy store, you’ve realized as you follow Matt around buy buy BABY. He has two carts, one already stocked full of things and the other slowly being filled. You stopped keeping count of how much everything costed an hour ago because the number started to make you queasy.

“He has enough clothes, Matty.” You whine, taking note of how Matt trips over his feet when you call him by that nickname. “and he’ll grow out of them before he even gets a chance to wear them.”

“Last one, I swear.” He says, holding up an outfit. “C’mon, how fucking cute is he going to look in this?”

“If his first word is a swear word, I’m going to kill you.” You mutter, taking the outfit from him and tossing it in the cart. Matt just grins and rests a hand on your stomach, hoping the baby will kick.

“How’s Joey?”

“Grayson is doing just fine.”

“We’re never going to come to an agreement on a name, are we?” he asks and you smile sweetly.

“Nope.”

He laughs and starts walking towards the checkouts.

“Did my mom tell you that they’re coming to visit?” He asks and you nod, recalling your conversation with Chantal. She’d called you first to make sure you were okay with the entire Tkachuk clan showing up. She knows how stressful pregnancy is and didn’t want to overwhelm you.

But you were ecstatic when she asked if it was okay for them to visit. You’ve grown to depend on her for any pregnancy questions over the past seven months and even when you needed some regular advice for everyday things, you sometimes texted her.

“Yeah, it’s Wednesday, right?”

Matt nods, smiling politely at the cashier as he starts loading every thing on the conveyor belt. You can tell that she’s a hockey fan by the way her eyes light up when she recognizes who he is.

“I’ve been meaning to ask if you can pick them up from the airport?” He asks, catching you off guard. “Their plane lands around noon and I won’t be back until later that night and I don’t really want them to have to take a cab.”

You’re a little surprised that he’s asking you to do this instead of paying someone or asking a close friend to do it instead. It’s an odd feeling, realizing that he trusts you with his family.

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You tell him and his smile warms you to the bone.

. . .

You show up to the airport forty-five minutes early because you can’t decide if you should wait in the SUV for Matt’s family, or meet them in the airport. Would it be weird to wait for them inside like you would with your own friends or family? You double check your phone to make sure that Matt did tell them it was you picking them up because how weird would it be if they were expecting him only to find you waiting.

You’re definitely over thinking it but you find yourself standing at the gates when their plane lands.

Chantal is the first person you see and her face lights up and she scurries over to you, pulling you in for a soft hug.

“Oh, look at you!” She gushes, taking your hands in hers and holding you at arms length. “You’re glowing.”

Glowing isn’t exactly the word you would use because as much as you tried to look nice to pick them up, you’re still seven months pregnant, sweating because of the jacket you have on and most definitely are wearing odd shoes because you can no longer see your feet and Matt wasn’t here to check for you.

But you blush nonetheless, letting Keith, Taryn, and Brady hug you before starting to walk to baggage claim.

“Thank you for picking us up.” Chantal says and you smile.

“It’s nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Anything I can do to help. I know how hard it is being pregnant with your man travelling a lot.”

You want to correct her when she calls Matt your man, but you don’t want to be impolite so you just nod.

“Speaking of your man,” Brady says in a teasing voice, “what time does he get in, again?”

“Around 8.” You say, ignoring the teasing tone and changing the subject to ask Taryn how school is going. You know you’ll hear more comments about the nature of your relationship with Matt from his brother but for now, you chat with Taryn and Chantal about plans for the baby.

. . .

Matt gave you a key to his apartment when you both realized that you spent more time at his these days then you did at your own so you don’t miss the knowing looks Chantal and Keith share when you use your key to unlock Matt’s apartment. You know they can tell it’s your key and not Matt’s because he painted it your favourite colour when he gave it to you.

“So do we get a sneak peak of the nursery?” Taryn asks hopefully and you nod, gesturing for her to follow you. Matt turned one of the guest rooms in to the nursery in his apartment. You haven’t done anything with yours yet because you and Matt were starting to wonder if after the baby is born, at least for a little while, the two of you should just live together. It would certainly make things much easier.

“It’s beautiful.” Chantal says, and you can see her eyes watering a little.

“We’re going to put up letters spelling his name above the crib.”

“Oh yeah, have you guys decided on a name yet?” Keith asks, testing the sturdiness of the crib by wiggling it a little.

“No.” You mutter. “We can’t agree on anything.”

“You’ll find something you both love eventually.” Chantal reassures you. “Now, please tell me my son has food in his fridge, because I’m going to cook dinner.”

You grin, realizing that she too knows how bad Matt is at keeping his fridge stocked. Before you started spending so much time here, you would be lucky if he had eggs in the fridge.

. . .

Matt arrives home just as dinner is cooked and you get to witness what a typical Tkachuk night must look like. There’s lots of chirps thrown but you can tell how close this family is and how much they care about each other. Especially when it comes to Matt and his mom and sister. He treats them like gold and it warms your heart to see it.

After dinner, you volunteer to clean up and you’re surprised when Keith offers to help. You’ve only spoken to him a few times before today and you don’t feel as close to him as you do with Chantal so it’s quiet while the two of you clear up the dishes.

Keith breaks the silence after a couple minutes, turning to look at you.

“I know Matthew can be a handful… but don’t give up on him, okay?”

You’re surprised to hear this coming from Keith because you were truthfully expecting Taryn or Brady to say something about it. Every time you and Matthew touched or spoke to each other, you noticed the knowing looks and soft smiles from the other Tkachuk family members.

It was like they knew something that neither you nor Matthew did.

You’re not sure what exactly to say so you just nod.

“I won’t.” You promise, realizing that you truly mean it.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanficton #allies writing

313 notes · View notes

beanie-beebo-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Unnoticed

Dean x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: Slight mention of vomit, grossness of a full on catharsis, detailed description of depression/self-wallowing

Summary: The reader has been hiding their demons around others for as long as they’ve known, but one surprise sends them tumbling down. With a little pushing from the Winchesters, they finally have to face them head on.

You were okay, you always had to be okay. It wasn't like anyone cared, right? Why would they? You were a miserable, self loathing, steaming pile of unwanted baggage. Everyone always had something more important to worry about, and it was never you. Everyday, you would plaster on the most genuine smile you could muster, and went about your day, not that anyone would give it much notice anyway. When you felt that reserve crack, you ran elsewhere before anyone could notice. You had already burdened the boys enough throughout the years, so why add on?

It was a day like any other. You had rolled out of bed around 5:45 AM, usually before everyone else. If it had been the day of a hunt, you would quickly dust yourself off and put on a show. But on "normal" days like today, you had some leeway. You could quietly cry in the shower if you wanted to and no one would notice your blotchy face. You could slowly seep into your coffee and imagine what today's antics would look like. Hell, you could even sleep in... If your body gave you that chance anyway.

You were mid-cup of the way through your morning routine (which today was self-wallowing at 6) before Sam's sudden appearance almost made you spit out your stale coffee. You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath before settling yourself into your usual chipper role.

"You're up early." He said, fixing himself a light breakfast.

"Yeah uh, couldn't sleep." You said.

"Everything alright?" He asked, sleep still evident in his voice.

You swallowed a small lump in your throat. "Yeah, I just had a case of the "night after a hunt" syndrome; nothing new."

"Alright. Well, I'm here if you want to talk."

"Thanks, I'm good though. Nothing I haven't handled before."

Sam nodded, looking up to a drowsy Dean padding into the kitchen, clad in his usual grey robe.

"Damn you guys are loud." He said, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Sorry." You said sheepishly.

"Cooking up anything good?" Dean asked.

"We usually don't start pancakes until nine." Sam said.

"Well, I mean, I figured... Never mind." Dean said.

Thankfully, the rest of breakfast was mostly just sounds of enjoyment as caffeine slowly simmered into your veins. You had finished off your mug and excused yourself to the bathroom before anyone else could have the chance to use it. Upon examining your rough appearance in the mirror, you sharply exhaled and allowed yourself to deflate. Mornings were never a charming look on anyone, unless if you were a Winchester of course, but you appeared even less flattering than usual. Your unusually puffy eyelids drooped and your dark bags were even more prominent than usual. It looked like you hadn't slept in weeks, which was a half-truth, nonetheless. Even with a fake smile, today was going to need a miracle to be survivable.

You were caught off guard, something that almost never happened. For some reason this time, you couldn't shake it off as quick as usual. It could have been the fact that this last hunt reminded you of how your life used to be. The life you had before it was ripped away, just like this family's. You blinked back tears and tried to force a smile. For once, it was the hardest thing you had to do.

You were scarce throughout the day, blaming it on not sleeping well when the boys called. You had hoped no one would catch on, but for once, you felt they did. The facts laid right in front of them, and no matter how far you drove, you couldn't hide. After going out for a supply run late afternoon, you decided it to be safe to return to your room before anyone could notice. As a plus, you could keep the lights off in your room and sit alone. You knew eventually the boys would notice you had returned by a simple check in the garage, and would likely peek into your room as a reassurance. You had some time before that, as you knew Sam and Dean like the back of your hand. For now, you stared at the ceiling and ruminated until your energy melted away. You didn't even bother to look at the clock before you had slipped unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke to a burning light at the back of your eyelids, causing you to groan in annoyance. Upon opening your eyes and painfully lifting your head, you noticed someone had opened your door. Usually it wasn't left ajar, especially when the boys knew you were asleep. You made an attempt to get up and close it, but had resorted to laying stiffly in discomfort after numerous attempts. It wasn't really a surprise that your body disobeyed you, again. Yet again, it had been a while since you had felt this terrible. You sighed and rubbed your face frustratedly.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but the boys hadn't answered your calls to close the door. Every scenario possible began to run through your head, and you no longer worried about your body's act of rebellion. After frantically searching the halls, you wound up in the kitchen. Sam and Dean were just lounging around, as if you hadn't been calling for them. You would be fuming if it weren't for your mind still running in five million different directions.

"Hey, everything all good?" Dean asked.

"I... uh. Yeah. Peachy. You guys didn't hear me calling?" You asked, out of breath.

"No? Why, what's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, just noticed you left my door open." You said.

"Okay, how are you?" Sam asked suddenly.

"I'm fine now, just annoyed. Why?" You answered.

"You mind telling the truth this time?" Sam asked.

"What?" You asked.

"You can kill the act, (Y/N)." Dean said.

"What act? You lost me." You said.

"This one. The one you're trying to pull right now." Dean said, standing up.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You said.

"I think you do." Sam said.

Had they had caught on?

"If you think me calling out for you two, and getting worried when you don't answer, is me pulling an act, then you need to reevaluate." You said.

"You think that's what this is about?" Dean said. "We didn't answer because we knew you would come find us anyway. It's not like you would have gotten out of bed any other way. We need to talk."

You were at a dead end, and there wasn't really a way you knew how to escape. Your last saving grace would be to tuck and run in the other direction.

"About? It's probably pretty late, and unless if the world is at stake again, I would like to go back to bed." You said. "I'm sure you two could hold off for a few hours, unless if of course you truly need me. I'm still kind of worn out from yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Dean asked.

"The hunt? The rougaru? I don't know about you guys, but after being half thrown down two flights of stairs, I'm still kind of worn out. And don't even get me started on food." You said.

"(Y/N), today is Tuesday." Sam stated.

"..What?" You asked quietly.

"Hun, the hunt was on Saturday. Today is Tuesday." Dean said

You felt your stomach drop and the room began to sway nauseously.

"So why don't you sit down," Dean continued, guiding you to the table. You had not even noticed he had made his way over to you. "Have a sandwich, and we'll talk this over, huh?"

You blinked, not daring to look anyone in the eyes. They had to be playing some sort of sick joke on you. That, or you were going insane. There's no way you could have slept for almost three days, surely you would have woken up at least a few times. Even at your worst, the longest you could be under was around 8 hours. Although, you were absolutely famished, almost more nauseous at the thought of food, more so than the other day. Dean sat next to you as Sam went to prepare a quick meal. You creased your brow while trying at to look as stable as you possibly could at this given moment.

"Enough of the mind games, you had your fun. What's this really about?" You asked.

"(Y/N), this isn't us messing with you." Dean said.

"And I know you're not lying how?"

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and lit up the lockscreen. In a big bold font, the time read 10:21 pm. The date beneath? Tuesday November 24th. Dean wasn't up to date on newer technology, so there was no way he, himself could have pulled this off. If Sam had so even touched his phone, Dean would never live with himself. They were serious.

New tactic, complete avoidance.

Dean put a warm hand on your back, causing you to shiver lightly. "So what's really going on, (Y/N)?"

You just stared at the patterns on the wooden table, knowing he would just continue to pester until you answered anyway, or at least until you could will yourself to come up with something believable.

"Talk to me. We can't help you unless you spill." Dean said.

You remained silent as your insides quaked in fear; you were so far off the map now, you didn't know your way back. You knew if you uttered a single sound, that was it for you. The fasaad would crumble, and no one would be there to pick up the pieces, not even you. You'd gone this far without them knowing, and you knew that it was better that way. There's only one way this ended every time, with either them looking at you like the broken mess you were, or abandoning you like everyone else. You felt Dean's soft hands turn your head towards him, and you quickly averted your eyes before you broke.

"(Y/N),"

You felt the emotions bubble inside you; you didn't dare speak.

"Hey." Dean lowered his head to meet your gaze.

That was all it took. You closed your eyes to block out Dean's expression, willing your mind to stop. Tears leaked from your now scrunched eyes like a cracked basin. Dean sighed and pulled you to his chest. You sank even lower, crying so hard that snot began to mix into the falling tears. You couldn't hold back, you were too far gone. You felt Dean's chest vibrate, but couldn't hear anything over the agonizing pain. It was a pain you tucked away for so long; you couldn't stop if you tried. Your stomach churned with every sob, only adding to the turmoil. Your body began to rock gently with Dean's as the pain continued to roll out in waves. Everything was so messy, and yet he still held you as you fell apart. Even though he had no idea what was wrong, he just sat there. After what seemed like forever, your shuddering breaths evened out slightly. You sat up and looked disgustingly at the front of Dean's shirt.

"Don't worry, I've got more." Dean joked lightly.

You apprehensively looked at his eyes, not failing to notice the crease between his brow or the gloss in his eyes. Your stomach lurched. You scrambled towards the hallway before retching violently onto the linoleum floors. Before more bile could make its way out, you stumbled into the bathroom, still turning your stomach inside out the whole way. By the time you had tripped and practically crawled to the toilet, there was nothing left to bring up. Your cheeks flushed in both embarrassment and overexertion as you realized two pairs of footsteps had trailed behind you.

"Leave." You rasped.

"(Y/N)-"

"No, I will not let you see this side of me. Leave." You cried.

"Sammy," Dean began.

He then communicated something to Sam you could not hear, and crouched down beside you.

"Don't," You said. "I can't afford to lose you too."

"We aren't leaving, (Y/N). We're still here."

You sniffled, gagging at the taste in your mouth. "For now."

You spat and brought up some more bile before weakly resting on the toilet.

"Take a deep breath for me," Dean said softly. "I need you to calm down."

"Why, so you can leave me outside without causing a scene?" You huffed.

"You do realize even if I wanted to, we are in the middle of nowhere. There would be no scene to make." Dean said.

Your stomach dropped again, causing you to dry heave. Dean gently placed a hand on your back.

"Hey," He said, hoping you would turn his attention to him. "That's not what I meant. You do know we've known something has been off for a while, right? So if we wanted to kick you to the curb, we would have done so already."

"How long have you known?" You asked, your voice breaking.

"About a few months now. I don't know how long this has been going on, but I wished we had said something sooner." Dean said.

"What, that you don't want me?" You asked.

"No, God no, of course not. I know you don't see it, but you're one of the strongest people I know. To have something unseen going on and still acting like everything is okay around everyone else? That takes strength. You don't have to put a face on for us, I know you better than you think." Dean said.

"No, you don't."

"Well then, enlighten me."

You bit your lip and looked over to Dean. Now without a lot of those emotions from before crowding your mind, you began to see some things for how they really were. Dean wasn't angry. His expression was filled with concern, with love. He wasn't pushing you away. Even at Sam's worst, Dean always came back. So why would it be any different for you? You were practically family; the only thing not tying that knot, was the absence of a ring on your finger.

"It's..It's a lot." You said.

"No matter how much it is, I'm here. I will be here to listen. And if you aren't ready to talk right now, that's okay. I just want you to know that I always have and always will be here." Dean said as he leaned over to flush the toilet.

"Even if you can't handle it? Or me?" You asked.

"Honey, I've handled God himself. There's nothing I can't handle." Dean said with a smirk.

"..Even if it's years of unresolved trauma?" You asked, squinting one of your eyes nervously.

"Even that, yes. Although, I think Sam might be better equipped in that department." Dean admitted. "But, that doesn't mean I will support you any less. Even if I get frustrated, it's only because I care, so much."

You smiled and practically toppled Dean to the floor. Luckily, his cat-like reflexes saved the both of you from tumbling down. He giggled and returned your tight embrace. After a few beats, you looked up.

"So, you ready to face this together?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." You said. "I guess."

"That's the (Y/N) I know. Now, let's say we have some toast or something. What do you say?" Dean said, pulling the two of you off the floor.

For the first time in a while, you smiled; you really smiled. Not everything felt right, but deep down, you could at least trust the words of a Winchester.

"Yeah, that sounds good." You said.

Dean beamed and rested a hand on your lower back as the two of you followed the aroma of freshly fried grilled cheese.

Tags: @akshi8278

64 notes · View notes

rigginsstreet · 3 years ago

Note

Tell us how you'd write fp different from season one if u were in control 📝

ultimately id probably keep season one the same if we’re still keeping it r*verdale and not... parentdale lmao because then that becomes an entirely different show

but i do think he couldve been utilized a little more like we couldve done some things there.

first and foremost im making that bitch GAY and yes that is very important to his character but i dont need to tell you that. but the layers that would add bitch! the layers! oh but i also wouldve given him and hermione/the lodges a proper backstory because that shit was not explored okay like i made a post about it before how all these people went to school together and then hiram randomly calls fp up one day cuz he needs a plot of land cheapened by his presence ksjgbkjbg and then add on the whole thing with fp hermione and fred. bisexual love triangle i would like to see.

OH and i would like to see his relationship with the serpents explored more i need to see him actually being a leader and making deals and running shit PLUS how joaquin came to be his like.... second in command i mean i know he was being used to seduce kevin but i really need that backstory too lmfao i need to see that conversation and honestly i think fp pulled that from his own experiences like i can 100% see fp in his younger days having to flirt his way through some situations just to gain some knowledge about whatever. but ALSO!!!! if we had a parallel of fp seducing fred to get info for hiram and fp first agreeing to it cuz hes still pissed at fred but then shit gets complicated because obviously hes still in love with him and then fp starts feeling bad and then oh no fred finds out just when he was starting to maybe open himself up to the idea of being with fp again..... we truly couldve done so much. and then you have freds slutty ass being caught betwen his ex girlfriend and ex boyfriend while also being sad about his ex wife still. so much drama

its really not until season 2 that his character fucking derails. I WANTED TO SEE HIM ACTUALLY IN PRISON! HIM RUNNING THE YARD! PRISON FIGHTS! SEXY!

i would have liked an actual sobriety arc. he said he got sober in prison and was attending meetings and then poof. that ended immediately. and fine. we could keep that but like... at least show the struggle and the guilt over it ya know? also he did not struggle nearly enough for coming out of prison for DUMPING A DEAD TEENAGER IN A RIVER like that town truly shouldve been on his ass about that theres no WAY him working at pops wouldnt have caused a scene.

like my main problem with fp as a character is that he truly never suffers any consequences for anything but also hes written to have all these problems that are never dealt with or remotely explored. and for as much as i would love for that bitch to get some therapy i also realize its not entirely realistic for him as a character and thats fine! but i want to see him struggle i want to see him actually acknowledge he has demons to face and work at them in his own way and both fail and succeed.

ultimately what it all comes down to is he wasnt written as a person. which.... no one on this show is. they all just tick their little boxes of stereotypes and caricatures and its very annoying. if youre gonna give fp a drinking problem, show it! not just him passed out on the couch but him actually struggling. show him trying to get better and doing good for a while only to relapse, show how he actively has to make the choice every day not to drink. have him apologize to the people he hurt. let us see the actual damage it did to not just him but those around him.

give him relationships with other people that are fleshed out and actually matter. the fact that he never once checked in on fred after he was shot is INSANE to me. gladys was only ever used as throwaway lines that never went anywhere. he had an entire daughter he presumably never tried getting in contact with based on her reaction to see him again like....but yet he has her name tattooed over his heart? so either that was a hollow gesture to appease his own mind or he actually deeply loves her but was so ashamed of himself and what caused gladys to leave that he couldnt even pick up the phone to call them. SHOW ME THESE THINGS!

show us what the serpents meant to him as a kid who got thrown out by his father at 16 and found a family in them instead. show us why he wound up back there after fred fired him. show us why hes so bonded to them. hell, even if he just went back out of desperation because times were hard and no one else would hire him and he needed that easy money.... fucking explore that shit!

show us him forming these relationships with the younger gay serpents because hes got all this baggage from his own upbringing and he has a soft spot for kids like him and wants to protect them, even if it is through a drug running gang. show us that abuse fucks up your perception of love and how to do it but its all he knows so hes working with what hes got.

fp honestly works best as a tragic character. trying to do good but he can never quite make it. always drawn to shadier things because ultimately its what he knows and its where he feels safe. but he wants to be better at the same time! he just truly cannot help himself. and thats what needed to be explored more with him but not in a way that romanticized it. like he really is a fucked up person when you break him down and the fact we were all supposed to look at him as the hero or something is so bizarre to me and it never worked because we were expected to just forget everything he was.

hes not an evil guy either hes just deeply misguided because thats just the shit he grew up in and he doesnt know anything else. except for fred and what he saw with the andrews and that shouldve been an important relationship like they really couldve played on how opposite fred and fp are and used that to a narrative advantage, them being best friends. theres SO MUCH to be done with that but fuck me i guess.

idk i just always think about how fun fp wouldve been if they had just let him indulge in his devious ways like theres no way fp jones wouldve ever taken a cop job seriously and not used it to his own advantage. theres no way he wouldve been that bent out of shape about gladys running drugs when hes done SO MUCH worse. we shouldve gotten more scamming against hiram and him and hermione being in cahoots.

like hes a street rat. he will always be a street rat. he cannot shake this. fucking play with that! indulge in it! have fun! have him settle down with his husband but he still cant stop himself from living on the fringe of the law

#i went on a whole nonsensical tangent lmfao #it just pisses me off what fp couldve been!#fp jones #briana answers things

5 notes · View notes

atths--twice · 4 years ago

Text

Bare Essentials

Last March, the discussion on Thursday during #tbtXFiles turned to why Mulder looked “un-Mulderish,” in Signs and Wonders, and lost luggage was mentioned, I became intrigued. I had never noticed his clothes, I don’t think. This is not an episode I generally put on, so I was taken aback. After it was mentioned, it was ALL I saw. So, thanks to a friend for piquing my interest, it brought about this story. Hope you enjoy it.

Arriving in Blessing, Tennessee, Mulder and Scully discover their bags have not arrived with them.

Blessing, Tennessee 9:30 a.m. Tuesday

The tiny airport was hot and crowded, causing Mulder to unbutton the two top buttons on his shirt, hoping to find some relief. He could feel sweat on his neck and back, as he watched the luggage carousel, waiting for their bags.

Scully walked up, fanning her coat around her. “Jesus, it’s hot in here,” she said, looking at him, her small carry-on bag in one hand. He nodded still keeping an eye on the carousel.

“It’s insane that it’s this warm in here, the heater has to be broken. I doubt it’s that cold outside." He fanned his shirt, the open buttons not offering much relief.

“Well, we’ll find out as soon as our bags get here and we can get the car,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We should head straight over to the church.” He nodded again, frowning as he realized the baggage carousel was now empty. Bags were no longer coming and he heaved a sigh.

Great, just great, he thought. Scully looked at him and raised her eyebrows. He shook his head and headed to the baggage claim office.

A half an hour later, forms were filled out, and a heated discussion had been had about the heat of the airport. Mulder caught up to Scully, and they walked toward the rental lot. Scully had filled out the paperwork and gotten the keys, while he dealt with their lost bags. They would try to deliver them as soon as possible. But first, they needed to figure out where they were exactly.

“Where they are exactly, Scully,” he said, as they walked to the car. “How is it that they don’t know where our bags are “exactly” but everyone else’s arrived here with no problems? We all left from the same place, on the same flight.” She put her carry-on in the trunk, and they both got in the car. He turned on the ignition, shaking his head as he looked over at her.

She scrunched up her chin, something he found so goddamn adorable and shook her head. “I don’t know, but hopefully they’ll find them and bring them by later tonight. Let’s get to the church,” she said, gesturing for him to drive.

“I can’t go like this, Scully,” he said pointing at his clothes. He was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved polo shirt. “I was going to change once we stopped by the motel, but now I don’t have my luggage.”

“Then you will have to go like that,” she said, looking at him in exasperation.

“No, we can find a store and I’ll pick something up. Not a suit, but something better than this,” he said, backing up the car and heading out. She hummed her annoyance, and he scoffed.

“If you had dressed accordingly,” she said, under her breath, shaking her head and looking out her window.

“I told you all my dress shirts were at the cleaners, and it was a mad dash to even get there before we left. I had no other options,” he said, watching for when it would be safe to merge onto the highway.

“Mulder, how long have we been doing this? Seven years? Why do you leave everything until the last minute?” she asked, with a glance his way. “You tell me we’re leaving, and I have a wardrobe already packed in my head, business suits ready to go at all times.”

“If we all were as prepared as you, who would be the dreamers? The artists who walk around with paint in their hair or on their hands because other aspects of life are more important?” he volleyed back at her. “We can’t all be Dana Scullys.” He glanced at her and saw she was trying not to smile.

“You all can try,” she said in a sassy tone, giving in and giving him a beautiful smile. His heart pounded, and his mouth went dry, causing him to clear his throat. She turned and looked out the window again, and it was quiet in the car.

Just before the exit for the church, he left the highway, looking for a place to buy some new clothes. A store came into view, and he pulled into the parking lot. Scully looked at him, and he shrugged. They both got out of the car and walked inside.

Scully looked at him, the store not quite the type of clothing they usually purchased. She walked away from him towards the women’s section, and he headed to the men’s.

Not wanting to spend too much time in the store, he quickly found his size and grabbed a shirt- a long sleeved button down grayish patterned shirt. It was not something he usually would be drawn to, being rather an ugly color and print, but it would work.

Pants were next- a pair of dark slacks, and also a belt. He caught Scully’s eye and jerked his head toward the dressing room. She nodded and walked toward him, as he stepped behind the curtain to try on the clothes. He could hear her breathing on the other side, and he flushed at the thought that a mere piece of fabric separated them as he undressed.

“Mulder?” she asked, her tone reminding him they were on a timetable.

“Yeah, I know. These are good, I’ll get them,” he said, slipping on his shoes and tying them. “I’ll wear them out from here.”

“Hand me the tags and I’ll pay for them,” she said, reaching her hand inside the curtain. He smiled, pulling them from the clothes and placing them in her hand. Her hand left, and he picked up his other clothes.

He tucked in his shirt, fastened his belt, and opened the curtain. Seeing Scully at the register, he walked over to her. She looked him up and down and scrunched her chin again before turning back to the store clerk.

“I grabbed you a jacket too,” she said, handing over her credit card. “It is cold out, despite how hot it was at the airport. They didn’t have your size exactly, and there are no ties, but at least you will look better than how you did earlier.” She glanced at him, and he nodded his thanks.

His own clothes were put in a large store bag, along with what she had purchased for herself, though he did not see what she bought. Putting the new grey coat over his arm, he put his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the store.

_________________________________

The Heartbreak Motel, 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning

Pulling up to the motel, as it bordered on one in the morning, he sighed, his body completely exhausted. He glanced at Scully, seeing her worrying her lips as she sat beside him. When he turned off the car, it broke her from her thoughts, causing her to look at him and unbuckle her seat belt.

“I’ll go get our rooms,” he said, putting his hand on hers, stopping her from getting out just yet. She nodded and sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest.

He got out and spoke to the motel clerk, getting them adjoining rooms. Two keys with glittery guitar key chains were handed to him. The man shrugged and Mulder nodded, holding them as he walked out the door.

He drove closer to their rooms, and they both got out. Handing her her key, he grabbed her carry-on and the store bag out of the trunk, following her into her room. He set the bag down, and she began to go through it. She took out a pack of underwear, a couple of pairs of dress socks, and a pack of undershirts. The barest of essentials, and something he had completely overlooked.

She handed them over to him with a raised eyebrow. He grinned at her and took them, his thoughts and feelings mixed. He was happy at her thoughtfulness and also felt that familiar feeling of desire for her. She had picked out underwear for him.

God, he loved her.

He nodded at her and made to leave the room. “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically. He turned around and smiled at her.

“Thank you kindly, Miss Scully,” he said in an overly put upon Southern accent. She rolled her eyes and walked forward to close the door when he left.

He went into his own room and set all his things on his bed. His jacket was taken off and thrown on the chair, his clothes and shoes following, as he went into the bathroom and started the shower.

He showered and came into the room in a towel. Ripping open the packages, he took out a shirt and a pair of underwear. Dressed, he picked up and then hung his clothes, obviously needing to wear them again tomorrow, unless the bags miraculously showed up in the middle of the night.

A knock sounded at the adjoining door, and he unlocked it, finding Scully, her hair still damp from her own shower. He tried not to stare, but she was so cute standing there in a pair of un-Scully like pajamas. Cotton, long sleeved, and lilac. They were tighter and clingier than usual. Try as he might, he could not avoid noticing her hard nipples.

“Here,” she said, thankfully interrupting his thoughts and redirecting his eyes. She handed him a new packaged toothbrush and he raised his eyebrows at her. “From my carry-on. After they lost our luggage that time in Boise, I’ve made sure to at least have the essentials: my makeup bag and toiletries.”

“Good thinking. Maybe I should start doing that too,” he said, opening the toothbrush.

“Maybe?” she said with a look.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a grin. He stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and she winced. “What? Gotta do what I can without toothpaste.”

“You think I would pack toothbrushes and not pack toothpaste? What’s the point of that, Mulder?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Oh. Well, can you hand it to me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“I am not giving you the toothpaste. I will let you use it, but it stays with me,” she stated, both eyebrows raised high.

“What?”

“Yeah, Mr. Squeezes-It-From-The-Middle, the toothpaste stays with me,” she said cheekily. “I’m not having a repeat fiasco of The Falls.” He stared at her, but took the toothbrush from his mouth and presented it to her.

She uncapped the toothpaste, squeezed it tightly from the bottom, and loaded up his toothbrush. Replacing the cap, she smirked at him, making a show of the flatness of the tube of toothpaste. He nodded, looking at his toothbrush.

“You know, sometimes squeezing things in the middle is the best option. Lightly or with more force, depending on the situation,” he said, watching her eyes as he spoke. They moved across his face and landed on his lips. He had to fight the urge to run his tongue across them, wanting to see how that would affect her.

“Well, there’s also something to be said about following the rules,” she said, crossing her arms and looking in his eyes. “Even if you really do want to break them.” He held his breath, not daring to imagine she actually meant what she did. Christ, he was suddenly very hot. Were they still talking about toothpaste?

“Good night, Mulder,” she said, starting to close her door. “Come see me in the morning when you need more … toothpaste.” She looked at him once more, before closing the door all the way.

Oh, sweet Jesus. How did she do that? How did a conversation about toothpaste arouse him so much? He stood at the door, wanting it to open, to hear her say she needed more, and not be talking about toothpaste. Shaking his head, he forced himself to step back from the door and go into the bathroom and brush his teeth.

He laid down in bed a few minutes later with his mind buzzing and the taste of mint in his mouth. He turned over and punched his pillow trying not to think of how lilac had looked beautiful on her and how deliciously minty she would taste if he went into her room and kissed her.

_____________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 12:45 a.m. Thursday morning

God, he thought as he came back to the motel room, what a day. He took off the clothes he had been wearing for the second time, never wanting to see them again. He knew they smelled, even without getting his nose close to them. He had no idea what he was going to do about an outfit tomorrow.

Scully’s bag had made it to the motel, and been dropped off at the office. She sighed with relief at the sight of it, and then apologized to him that his was still missing. Disappearing into her room, he ducked into his own, wishing this case were over. If he never saw another snake again, he would be happy.

He showered and changed into another undershirt and underwear Scully had the foresight to purchase for him. He paced the room as he thought of what to do about his clothes tomorrow, when he heard Scully knock on the adjoining door. He grinned and went to grab his toothbrush before he opened it.

Again she stood in the doorway with wet hair, but this time in her own black satin pajamas. They were nice, but not tight, lilac nice. She held out the toothpaste and he brandished his toothbrush at her, causing her to roll her eyes, her lips curling into a small smile.

“I’m gonna need to get something for tomorrow. No way I can wear those clothes again. I’d like to have a burial service for them if I could. Could we arrange that?” She laughed and looked at him as she put on the toothpaste. He winked at her and stuck his toothbrush in his mouth.

“You were rather ripe today. I’m sorry your bag isn’t here. It’s quite nice to put on my own clean clothes,” she said, capping the toothpaste.

“Braggart,” he said around his toothbrush. He walked away and spit in the bathroom sink. He finished up, rinsed out his mouth, and set his toothbrush down.

She was leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed, eyes roaming up his body. He caught her when she got to his eyes and she moved, uncrossing her arms and clearing her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and he could not stop the smile that creeped across his face.

“Well, goodnight. We’ll figure out something for your clothes tomorrow. Maybe hit that store again. See you in the morning,” she said all in a rush, closing her door with a loud click.

He smiled, knowing he caught her looking and knowing she knew he did. Things were changing between them. It was going slowly, but he liked it that way. Something was still there, something holding them both back, but they were moving closer. He smiled again, and then his eyes landed on his clothes. Shaking his head, he resolved to be up early, determined to not be around her again until he smelled better than “ripe.”

_______________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 7:30 a.m. Friday

The alarm went off the next morning, and he slid on his pants with a cringe. He kept just his undershirt on, put on his shoes, and drove to the same store. They were just opening when he walked inside. Not wanting to take too much time, he grabbed a white button down and a pair of khaki pants. He balked at them, but it was what was available to purchase.

Just before he walked to the register, he spotted a leather jacket. He stopped and looked at it. It was a rather nice jacket and there was no reason he should not buy it, even if he had one similar to it already. No chance could he wear that gray coat Scully had picked, with the new khaki colored pants.

He found his size and added it to the other items. If Scully’s bag arrived yesterday, hopefully it meant his would arrive sometime today, and this would be enough to get by. If not, he would need to find a place and wash what he had with him.

Purchase complete, he went back out to the car, dropping his bag beside him, and driving back to the motel. Once inside, he quickly showered again and got dressed. God, it felt so good to wear new, clean clothes, and not something that was sweaty and smelly.

Scully knocked on the adjoining door and he opened it. She looked at him and nodded, a smile on her face. Catching his eye, she stared at him with a look he could not quite place. Breaking his gaze after a few seconds, she took a breath.

“I got a call. There was a problem with Gracie. We need to go.” He grabbed his jacket and followed her out the door.

_____________________________

Blessings of God Hospital 10:30 a.m. Sunday

He stared at her as she sat next to him on his hospital bed, her eyes so blue and beautiful. She sighed and smiled again before squeezing his hand, getting up and heading to the door. His wounds were healing and he was starting to feel better, but he would be in the hospital for a couple more days. Bored and ready to leave, seeing her made him happy, but he wished he could be leaving with her.

“Oh,” she said, turning around and looking at him with a cheeky grin. “Your bag showed up last night. So, you’re good to go. You know … when you’re ready to wear pants again.”

“Goddamn. Finally,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. She smiled and nodded before she headed out the door.

He looked at the door and sighed. A few more days and he would be ready to leave. It could not come soon enough. Watching her leave every day was killing him. He was ready to be done with this and continue moving forward.

He just needed his goddamn pants to get the hell out of this hospital. Thank all that was holy in the world, he was never so happy to hear he had clothes waiting for him.

Lost luggage could eat a huge pile of shit.

___________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed this little story. Seeing a prompt always gets my mind spinning with how I could write out that scenario. This one was fun. 😊

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Signs and Wonders #Missing Luggage #Coping and making the best of a bad situation #Sharing the bare essentials #Flirting

51 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter 3

Title: Safe and Warm

Warnings: brief mention of child sexual abuse. Very brief.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @tragiclyhip

“You should have gotten these looked at BEFORE you came home.”

She sits on his stomach; knee on either side of his body and a bottle of peroxide, package of cotton balls, a pair of tweezers, and a tube of healing ointment rest on his chest. With all of the kids finally settled for the night and the house tidied and every last plate, cup and piece of silverware in the dishwasher, it’s finally their turn to relax. A quick soak in the hot tub while sipping drinks; one last glass of wine for her and a coffee for him. Still damp bodies clad in bathrobes as they sat on the couch; eating ice cream straight out of the carton while relaxing in front of the heat and ambiance given off by the gas fireplace. All conversation steering clear away from anything job related. Talking instead about Christmas and all the things that still need to be done; present wrapping, last minute gift grabbing, decorating. The kids also have jam packed ‘to do’ lists; skating, seeing the tree at Rockefeller, sledding, visiting Santa and the reindeer at Central Park. Christmas Day is spent with just the nine of them; the kids playing with their gifts and spending time outside, a traditional dinner that they’ve become quite the professionals at preparing together. The following day they’ll travel into Queens and spend the day with Ovi and Riya and their little family; two ‘grandkids’ that will be loved upon and spoiled senseless. New Years is usually spent quietly at home; takeout and alcoholic beverages and entertaining the kids with board games. This year plans have changed; Ovi’s wedding at The James New York in Soho.

As exciting as the latter is and as much as he does enjoy his time in New York City -the happiness and excitement evident on his wife and children’s faces more than enough to erase any of his own discomfort- it will be nice to get home. Back to their slice of paradise; the sun and the sand and the privacy and the feeling of security that comes with owning so much land. They’ll have a second Christmas; an informal get together with friends with a cookout on the beach and a ‘Secret Santa’ gift exchange. Work will be put on the back burner; no calls or emails from clients returned until the kids go back to school, the bookstore in good hands under the supervision of the two college students Esme had hired a year ago. Business has been good; exceeding even her wildest dreams and expectations. Already a well loved staple in Cooktown; customers loving the wide array of books and magazines, the outdoor courtyard and the comfortable couches and chairs allotted for those simply there to relax. Reading their purchases or the kindles set up for free use and indulging in the variety of cold and hot drinks and baked goods. The treats are mostly prepared by Tanner who has become quite the little chef and baker; finding his ‘place’ in the kitchen and never happier than when he’s creating some kind of dish or dessert from scratch. He’s also in charge of biweekly book reviews; picking a title to read and then preparing a well written report to go along with it. He’s become quite the local celebrity because of it; fan mail arriving on the daily from kids all over town and those who may have visited during family travels.

If anyone had told Tyler thirteen years ago that he’d even still be alive, let alone living THIS life, he would have told them they were insane. Laughing off the notion at ever being a husband and a father again; too much of a mess and certainly way too much of a liability for anyone to ever take a chance on. It’s weird how quick things can change. How one chance meeting with someone as equally broken and damaged as you can change the entire course of your future. Looking at you in ways that no one has ever has; willing to take on the enormous amounts of baggage and seeing past all your faults and your rough spots and jagged edges and giving you a future you never imagined even in your wildest dreams.

“There wasn’t a reason to get them looked after. They’re just scratches; branches getting a hold of me when I was in the bush.”

“Some of them are pretty deep. And I know you tried when you were in the shower, but there’s stuff stuck in some of them. Dirt or wood or something. Aren’t they sore?”

“They’re SCRATCHES. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“They’re a mess is what they are.” She picks up the tweezers; eyes narrowing as she leans over him and plucks pieces of debris out of one of the wounds. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t things supposed to go down in the city?”

“They did. In Laos.”

“I thought it was going to be the same in Cambodia. You let me read what Anil sent you. I’m pretty sure things were supposed to happen in Phnom Penh? How’d you end up going from there into the jungle?”

“There was a change of plans.”

She smirks. “Obviously.”

“You know how it is, things don’t always go the way we want.”

“I’d say nine times out of ten, they don’t. Seriously though, your face is a wreck. You should have gotten this all cleaned up hours ago. BEFORE you got on a plane home. What if they get infected? You don’t know what’s in that jungle. They could have some crazy poisonous plant life or something. What if you got into something like THAT?”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d know something like that by now. What are you so squeamish about? You’ve seen me in worse shape.”

“Now THAT’S an understatement. Have you ever thought I just don’t like seeing you banged up and scratched up? Have you ever thought maybe I’ve had just about enough of all of that? Can’t I nurse you back to health from something else for a change? Like...I don’t know...the man flu?”

“You always complain when I get sick. That I’m too needy.”

“I have never once said you’re too needy. I have, however, complained about how whiny you get. How you come down with a head cold and act like you’re dying. How do you go through the things you have and survive what you’ve survived, and think a cold will be the cause of your demise?”

“Hey, those colds get pretty bad.”

“Worse than…” Pausing, she sits straight up and drops the tweezers onto the bed, then soaks a cotton ball with peroxide. “...you know what? I’m not even going to finish that sentence because that will only bring bad juju. Talking about all of that? Revisiting it? Nothing good will come of that. And we need good juju, don’t you think?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Who? Me? No. Maybe. Just a little. Is a whole bottle of wine for oneself considered drunk?”

“For normal people, yeah. For you…”

“Look, I had a rough day. In fact, it’s been a brutal FOUR days. And right now? Well right now, I should be getting laid. Or at the very least, have my husband going down on me. And what I’m doing? Playing nursemaid. And not in a fun, sexy way either. Not the kind of playing nursemaid that comes with little outfits and orgasms.”

He grins. “You ARE drunk.”

“I’m just saying, I had other plans for this evening and picking pieces of the Cambodian jungle out of your face wasn’t part of it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm...hmmm…”

“And I’d rather be doing other stuff too, but…”

“But the shit hit the fan and everything got fucked up and you ended up doing God knows what, doing God knows where. I’m not even going to ask how it went. I think I’m scared to hear the answer. It was obviously a dumpster fire if you went from the capital city of Cambodia to the bowels of hell.”

“There were a couple...snags.”

She returns to the task of investigating and cleaning the various scratches that mar his face and neck. “Anil let on everything went great.”

“Probably just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Was there something for me to worry about?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve been involved in way worse things. It was pretty straight forward. Two easy hits.”

“First one went okay?”

“Exactly the way it should have.”

“Second one?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask?”

“You don’t want me asking?”

“I don’t care if you ask. You just said you weren’t going to because you were afraid of what you might hear.”

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?”

“Esme, seriously? Do you want to know or not? It wasn’t THAT bad. I’m here, aren’t I? In one piece?”

She nods.

“It honestly wasn't that big of a disaster. Things got a little fucked up. The second one didn’t go the way it should have. I had to make some decisions; change some shit around. The Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I had to find out where he was and I had to figure out how to make things work.”

“Well good thing it WAS you that Anil asked. Because it probably would have been a lot worse. At least you know what you’re doing; you can think on your feet and stay calm and focused. A change like that? That would have thrown other people off. They probably wouldn’t have been able to get the second guy. They would have been too frazzled. That kind of change would have totally thrown them off.”

“Are you speaking highly of me, wife?”

“I am. I tend to speak very highly of you. All the time. To everyone. Even when I’m picking pieces of Cambodia out of your face.” She grabs the tweezers and unceremoniously inserts the tips into a large scratch at the side of his left eye; yanking out a piece of wood. “And it’s a nice face, by the way. So I don’t particularly like you coming home all messed up.”

“Like I said, I’ve had worse.”

“I will give you that.”

They lapse into a comfortable, companionable silence; his hands resting on her thighs as she continues to work at disinfecting and cleaning the scratches and her fingertips rub wound aftercare ointment into his skin. And he admires her as she does so. That steely look of determination on her face; lips set in a thin line and her eyes slightly narrowed and her hands steady yet gentle. And she looks so beautiful in that moment; in the mixture of moonlight and the glow given off by the bedside lamps. Hair pushed into a messy ‘up sweep’; held together by various clips -colourful and unicorn themed, ‘borrowed’ from Addie’s room- and bobby pins. Her face freshly cleaned and scrubbed; bearing the lingering scent of the grapefruit and pomegranate body wash she’d fallen in love with months ago. Clad in what she considers pyjamas; a faded and slightly tattered plaid button down shirt he’d worn during their Colorado days that is enormous on her tiny frame.

It’s been just over twelve years. Since he’d first laid eyes on her; standing on his front porch in The Kimberley in her little denim shorts and that yellow tank top that clung to her like a second skin. He’d known right away that he was in trouble; feeling things he hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time when she so much glanced in his direction and offered a small, almost nervous smile. And it would take him nearly ten years to admit what she’d probably known not long after their initial meeting: that his heart was hers from the very first day.

“You’re beautiful.” He says now, and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“Are YOU drunk?”

“I haven’t drank in five years. I’m truthful.”

“Maybe your eyesight is worse than you think,” she teases, and dabs a peroxide dampened cotton ball against the scratches on his forehead.

“Or maybe you just hate compliments. Even twelve years into things.”

“You know I don’t handle compliments well. Even now. I know that doesn’t make sense, considering we HAVE been together that long and you’re the master of compliments and sweet talk, but that’s just who I am. It’s just me.”

“I will break you yet.”

“You’ve been trying for over a decade. Same way you’ve been trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

“Come on, at least give me THAT. At least admit THAT was successful.”

“Fine…” she leans down to peck his lips. “I’ll let you have your small victories. You’re still going out tomorrow? With Tanner?”

He nods. “It’s our thing.”

“He’s so excited. He’s been talking about it non stop since we got here. Apparently he’s been writing a lot. He’s got A LOT to show you.”

“Yeah, he told me. Something about crazy dreams he’s been having. He’s so fucking smart, Me. Way smarter than I am. He’s got your brain pan for sure.”

“He is far more intelligent than I ever was at that age. His brain is just...I don’t know. It’s beautiful and it’s brilliant. And it’s kind of scary at the same time. I mean, he’s only ten. And look where he’s at. Not even a special school is a big enough challenge for him. He is so far ahead of all of those kids. What happens when he’s too far ahead? When that place doesn’t have what he needs anymore? Then what? He’s already reading at a high school senior level. And his math? His science? You’ve seen his marks. They’ve got him doing things that fourteen and fifteen year olds are learning. And he’s passing it all with flying colours. Soon they’re not going to have what he needs. What then?”

“We find somewhere else.”

“Where? There’s nothing where we are. And we’re not moving. We just aren’t. We’ve put way too much into that house and that land. And we love it too much. So do the kids. We can’t upset their lives like that.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll find something. Someone. There’s always a way, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me? Where there’s a will, there’s a way?”

“When I told you that I wasn’t expecting to have a genius child on my hands. And I know it sounds like I’m bitching. That it sounds like I’m not proud of him.”

“It doesn’t sound like that, Me. At all.”

“Because I am. Proud of him. He’s insanely smart and he’s beautiful and he’s just this incredible little being that I don’t feel I even deserve. But I’m scared. For him. Because he isn’t like everyone else. He never has been. And I know we should celebrate that and celebrate who he is and nurture it and encourage it. But it fucking terrifies me. Someone like Tanner out in the real world. Because he’s NOT like us. Or his brothers and sisters. Or ninety five percent of society. He’s sensitive and he’s kind and he has this huge heart. And I’m scared what’s going to happen to him. Just for being who he is.”

“He’s ten, Me. We have years before we have to worry about anything like that. It’s going to be a long time before he’s out of the house. He’s smart as hell, but you’re right; he’s not like everyone else. Maturity wise? He’s a lot younger. He’s not ten in a lot of ways. He’s going to be with us for a bit. Longer than the rest of them.”

“I just don't want him hating who he is. I don’t want him growing up and hating himself. He’s already told you that. About how he doesn’t like his brain and how it works. How he doesn’t like being different.”

“That’s mostly when he’s pissed that he can’t do the things that TJ does. Or because he’s so much smaller. He has his moments; where he wishes he was like his brother. Didn’t you have moments like that growing up? Wishing you could be someone different?”

“Of course. We all do. I’m sure you did.”

“Fuck, practically every damn day. He’s going to be fine, Me. He’s just a little boy. And he’ll be a little boy in some ways for longer. It is what it is. He’ll be okay. So will we.”

“You are so much better at this than I am,” Esme laments, and tends to screwing the cap onto the peroxide and moving all of the supplies and tools to the mattress. “You’re so much better with him. You have been since the very beginning. Who was the strong one when we got the diagnosis? Who was the one that DIDN’T go into a severe depression and the seven stages of grief? I mean, we suspected it and I STILL had a hard time. I’m his mother. And I struggled then and I’m struggling now. What kind of parent does that? FEELS that?”

“One that loves their kid more than life itself. Who worries about them and is scared for them because they know how fucking cruel the world can be.”

“You’ve just been so much better than I have. You’ve handled it better. Me? I’m just a mess. And not a hot one either.”

“I think you’re way too hard on yourself. You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Just because you’re having a hard time with this doesn’t mean you’re a shitty parent. Just means you love him.”

“I do. Love him. He’s my Nugget. And I hate that he struggles. That he doubts himself. That he shit talks himself sometimes.”

“Gee, I wonder where he gets THAT from.”

Smirking, she picks up the tweezers and points them at him. “Don’t make me stick these in your eye.”

“I’m just saying…” he plucks the instrument from her hand and tosses it onto the bedside table, then reaches up to push loose strands of her away from her face. “...he does get some things from you. And you do like to shit talk yourself.”

“I’m working on it.”

“For the last twelve years?”

“So I’m a slow learner. Slow and steady wins the race, right? Why are you like this?”

His calloused palms rest on the sides of her face; thumbs brushing along the tops of her cheekbones. “Like what?”

“So good to me. Why are you like that?”

“Oh I don’t know, Me. Might have to do with the fact that you’re my wife and the mother of my children. My SEVEN children. And maybe...just maybe...it has something to do with the fact that I’m wildly and crazily in love with you.”

“Still? Even after twelve years?”

“Even MORE after twelve years. More and more every day, actually.”

“God I love you,” she declares, then stretches out along his body and buries her face in the favourite place of hers; the warm nook between neck and shoulder. “I love you so much. More than I could ever tell you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he wraps both arms around her slender body. “Ditto.”

She laughs at his response; placing a kiss to the sensitive spot below his ear and then pushes her fingers through his hair. It’s longer now. Often messy and often unruly; sides and back no longer shaved right down to the skin. She claims it’s her second favourite look of his; liking the fact that there’s something to ‘grab onto’ during more intimate moments.

He feels the tickle or her lashes as her eyes flicker closed, followed by the long, content sigh that she releases. And for several long minutes they lay in silence, one of his hands moving up to comb through her hair, the other slipping under the hem of her shirt; knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine.

“Me?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is muffled against the side of his neck.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I really DO like snuggling with you and all that. But right now? Right now I’m really horny and I really want to fuck.”

Laughing, she playfully tugs on his hair and pulls back to look at him. “Husband, you’re nothing if not brutally honest.”

“Wanna have sex?”

Grinning, she leans in to press a kiss to his lips. “Actually,” she says. “I do.”

****

They lay in a tangled mess of wrinkled sheets and sweaty limbs; listening to the wind that rattles the windows and the soft patter of ice pellets and snow against the glass. Both on their sides with her back tucked into his front; her nails lightly and repeatedly skimming along the forearm that rests just under her breasts. His breath is warm against the nape of her neck and she enjoys the different sensations against her skin; the juxtaposition of soft, moist lips and the roughness of his beard. He wears it much shorter now; neatly trimmed and groomed and a far cry from the ‘lumberjack days’ when they’d lived in Colorado. Back when his body was thicker; extra weight around the middle and his muscles more bulky. He’s much more defined now. Tall and lean and athletic; broad shoulders and wide back, a sharp cut to his waist and beautifully detailed abs.

Forty seven years old and he’s in the best shape he’s ever been; a near mirror image of what he’d looked like at thirty five when they’d first met. She remembers that day well. Glancing up from where she’d crouched down on the porch to shower attention on his dog and finding those blue eyes riveted on her; intense and electric and filled with both curiosity and thinly veiled annoyance. He wasn’t used to company, and certainly didn’t seem to like the idea of a complete stranger being brought straight to his doorstep.

Nik had told her just the bare minimum; ex special forces, a host of personal baggage and addiction issues, intense and withdrawn at his best. But word travels when you’re in the ‘circle’; the job a relatively tight knit considering the amount of people caught up in it and the number of countries that are serviced. She’d heard the stories; tales of fearlessness and brutality and exceptional skills. And while she’d thought Nik’s idea was ridiculous and that it would never work, she’d been intrigued as well; wanting to put a face to the name and to all the rumours and the whispers she’d been subjected to. Other than his towering height and those muscles that strained under the sleeves of his shirt and the host of tattoos and scars, he hadn’t been that intimidating; offering just a brief twitch of the lips in lieu of a smile, his hand engulfing hers when he quickly and willing shook it in greeting. There was something welcoming about him despite the lack of conversation; opening up a little as soon as Nik stepped outside and offering her a drink. Those eyes ever so slightly sparkling and a small smirk on his lips when she’d downed the glass of scotch; making a comment about being surprised a ‘wee thing like her’ could handle her liquor so well and then pouring her another. Even chuckling a little when she’d commented on his place of residence; modest and simple, a chicken probably a far better roommate than any human she’d ever shared living quarters with.

Things had actually started during the two day stay just outside of Dhaka; a high end hotel that Nik had procured for final team meetings and strategy sessions. Meeting up -by sheer chance and not by plan- at the establishment's bar; sharing both a table out on the patio and pitcher of beer and tray full of tequila shots. There’d also been a kiss. Or, as close to a kiss as you could get. When he’d walked her back to her room and they’d stood in the hallway; slightly inebriated and suddenly somewhat anxious and nervous around each other. Dinner had been casual and comfortable. He’d smiled and even laughed and teased her about being a total enigma; so small and delicate looking despite her time in the Corps and having such a reputation for being tenacious and no nonsense. They had shared stories of growing up in Colorado and Australia and he’d been relatively talkative; either encouraged by her own openness and chattiness or the mixture of the booze he’d consumed and the meds he’d taken. Yet suddenly they were both at a loss for words and things seemed awkward and uncomfortable, and she’d stuttered and stammered while asking him if he’d like to join her inside and then furiously blushing when he’d exactly accepted.

She can still remember what it had felt like; when she’d drunkenly teetered and stumbled when attempting to unlock her door and his arm had curled around her waist to keep her on her feet. His body had been warm and solid against hers; breath hot and moist on the back of her neck. His eyes had been locked on hers when she turned to face him, heart hammering in her chest as he leaned in to kiss her. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man. Even something so simple as a kiss. And it had been even longer since she’d wanted someone that badly; physically aching and desperate to feel his hands and his mouth on her.

But it had never happened. In a brief moment of clarity, he’d backed away. Doing nothing more than pushing her hair behind her ears before backing away.

“I can’t do this,” he’d said. “I can’t do this to you.”

They never spoke of that moment again. Not even when things had crossed that line in Dhaka. It’s been just over twelve years and neither have brought it up. It didn’t matter anymore; the awkwardness they’d felt, the glimmer of life that she’d seen in his eyes, the words that he’d uttered. Things had changed. Drastically. Marriage and children and a somewhat happily ever after.

His free arm slips between her and the mattress. Coming to rest along her collarbone; fingers splayed over the top of her right breast, thumb repeatedly brushing along the hollow of her throat. “You alright?”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his and moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “More than alright. You? You okay?”

“I’m good. Is that what you wanted? Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Exceeded them, actually. I continue to be impressed by you. Your track record for incredible sex is almost a hundred percent.”

He raises his head from his pillow. “Almost?”

“You keep forgetting about that time after Kyle’s bachelor party. When you were drunk. When you got off and I didn’t and then had the goddamn gall to pass out. On top of me. Your poor little wife that’s a foot shorter and at that time, over a hundred pounds lighter.”

“Not one of my finer moments,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I haven’t made up for it? It’s been ten years since that. I haven’t made amends yet?”

“You’re getting there,” she teases, and then yelps and giggles when his teeth sink into her shoulder. “By the way, I think the neighbour knows you’re here.”

“You know what I’m surprised about? That the kids didn’t wake up.”

“Maybe they’ve gotten so used to it, they just sleep through it now.”

“Or maybe they’re hiding under their covers, totally traumatized.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t be so good at what you do. Maybe you shouldn’t be the king of multiple orgasms. Screaming ones at that.”

“You’d rather I didn’t get you off at all?”

“Don’t get carried away. We don’t need to go to THAT big of an extreme.”

“We can resort back to a pillow over the face. Or my hand over your mouth.”

“Remember that time in Dhaka? When the people in the next room complained to the manager about the noise? He was so embarrassed; when he came up to our room.”

“I do. And I remember the first time we went to Phuket. I never introduced myself to the people in the next suite, but they seemed to know my first name.”

“They were just jealous. I guess neither of them ever experienced really good sex. And speaking of which; we’re going to have to change the sheets before we go to sleep.”

“You can sleep on that part. That’s YOUR wet spot. On YOUR side of the bed.”

“You’re the one who made it happen. You should be the one to clean up the mess.”

He grins against the nape of her neck. “It’s a good mess though.”

“A very good mess,” she says, and then rolls over to face him; pressing herself tightly against his chest and reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. “You alright?”

“Fine. Why?” He skims her fingertips along the length of her spine; pausing to trace the tattoo that decorates the small of her back before moving back up again. “Didn’t it seem like I was alright? Did I seem like I wasn’t having fun?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. You’re different; during sex. When something is bothering you, you do things differently. Not in a BAD way. Just in a different way. You’re more aggressive. Rougher than usual.”

“You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No. You never do. It was perfect. YOU were perfect. It was just...different. You were different. I’ve been with you for twelve years. It’s one of the signs I’ve come to recognize; one of the things that change when something is bugging you.”

Tyler grins. “You’re good.”

“Are you going to tell me? What’s going on? You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admits, and then presses a kiss to her forehead before rolling over onto his back.

“I think you should.” Esme slides closer to him, propping herself up onto her elbow. “I think it’s good for you; talking about things that bother you. We’ve learned over the last twelve years, right? That things are better...that WE’RE better...when you don’t keep shit inside.”

Sighing heavily, he runs both hands over his face; wincing at the discomfort in both back and shoulder when he puts his hands behind his head.

“Is that what is? Pain? Did you get hurt? Do you need more meds? Do you…?”

“No pain. Just some tightness. I don’t need any more meds. I’m fine.”

“Did you take them while you were gone? ALL of them?”

“Babe, I’ve been taking them for five years. I wouldn’t fuck it up now.”

“I’m not saying you would. I’m just worried about you. I know something is wrong and I know it’s better for you NOT to keep quiet about it. So tell me. Please. Do your wife a solid and talk to her.”

“Didn’t I just slip you a solid? Twice?”

She scowls. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s nothing. Me. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, but this is something involving you and I worry about you. Don’t do this, okay? Let’s not get back into old habits. I know you don’t want that. Just like I don’t want it. Tell me. Please.”

He sighs once more, briefly closing his eyes.

“Is it the job?” Gentle fingertips trace the roman numeral tattoo on the front of his right shoulder. “ Did something go wrong? Other than a change in venue?”

“No. Other than that, things went fine.”

“But it IS about the job.”

Tyler nods.

“I’m not a mind reader, babe. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good. Something DID go wrong, didn’t it.”

“No. Nothing went wrong. It’s just...the people...the Marks.”

“They didn’t die or…?”

“Oh they died. You don’t survive a gunshot in the middle of the forehead.”

“So other than the chance of scenery, nothing went wrong and both Marks died but..”

“It’s who they were. Why they had to be killed. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I do. Because it’s bothering you and I don’t want you carrying that around. That’s never a good thing; you burying things. So yes. I want to hear it. You didn’t tell me much before you left; just that they were pieces of shit and they needed to be wiped out. Other than that…”

“They were the lowest of the low, Me. You can’t get lower than these guys. And I’ve dealt with some pretty huge pieces of shit. These guys? Worst I’ve ever gone against. By far.”

“Worse than Asif and Mahajan?”

“Considering how personal they made things and what they were going to do to my family, no one is worse than them. But if I take the personal stuff out of it, these guys are up there.”

“That doesn’t sound too promising. I didn’t think anyone could come close to those two.”

“The guns and the drugs? That shit was bad enough. They destroyed a lot of lives; killed a lot of people. But the shit I found AFTER I got there? About these guys? About other things they were up to? It’s fucked, Me. It’s fucked and it’s sick and twisted and I don’t think you need to know about it.”

“Well I think I do. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. It’s better if you don’t. Just tell me. I have big shoulders. Well, maybe not LITERALLY. What did you hear? About them?”

“Babe…”

“Tyler, tell me. Don’t do this. Not if you have plans on getting laid the rest of the time we’re here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I would. I’m not afraid to pull out the big guns. So either you tell me, or you suffer. Simple as that.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Tell me.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “Please.”

“When I got there and talked to the guy who hired Anil, things got worse. The Marks were even bigger pieces of shit than I thought. They’d both been married a handful of times. And put each one of their wives in the hospital. More than twice. A couple of them even ended up dead. There was never any proof that these guys did it, but…”

“But it’s pretty obvious.”

Tyler nods. “And then I heard about the kids. Not just kids they didn’t know. But kids related to them. Cousins, nieces, nephews. Their OWN kids.”

“Just beaten on them or…?”

“No. Not just beating on them. That’s bad enough. But this?”

“Sexual stuff.”

“Yeah. Sexual stuff.”

“Wow..” she sighs heavily, a fingertip skimming along the chain he wears around his neck. “...that IS the lowest of the low.”

“It just hit home. HARD. Made me think of you and the kids. Made being away from home a lot more difficult. And it was difficult enough already.”

“I’m sorry. That you had to hear all of that. But for it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you that took care of them. Anyone else ran the risk of screwing shit up. At least when you do things, you finish them That’s a bright spot, right? That you DID get to be the one?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just fucked me up. Mentally. Made me think of our kids. I swear to God, Me. If anything like that ever happens to them...if I ever find out that someone has touched them like that? I will fucking lose it. I will snap and I will fuck them up. I will torture them in all the worst ways possible. The most painful ways I know how. And then I’ll kill them. With my bare hands. If anyone ever messes with my kids…”

“Don’t think about that, Tyler. Don’t torture yourself like that. I mean, I think about it too. From time to time. And how I’d go nuts and kill someone. But don’t dwell on it, okay? Because our kids are fine. They’re warm and they're safe in their beds. And they always will be safe as long as you’re around. You know I always say you make me feel safe and protected? Well you do the same for them. You always have. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? They love you and they trust you. And you’re an amazing daddy.”

“I just want them to be safe. That’s all I want. Them safe. YOU safe.”

“And we ARE. Safe. As long as we’re with you, we’re fine. We don’t worry about a damn thing when you’re around. So please…” Esme presses a kiss to his cheek and nuzzles the end of her nose against his ear. “...no more dwelling. You got it out; you talked about it. You don’t need to think about it anymore.”

Running his hand through her hair, he tangles his fingers in the dark tresses and gently pulls her head back; lips covering hers in a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm…” she murmurs into his mouth, then sighs happily when he pulls away. “...that was...nice.”

“That was very nice.”

“You think you have one more in you? I still have some expectations that need to be met.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Good.” She throws her arms around his neck and rolls onto her back, kissing him hungrily as she pulls him down on top of her. Nails digging into his skin and her legs wrapping around his waist; ankles locking at the small of his back and a devilish grin playing on her lips when he pulls back to look at her. “Husband, you need to make love to me again.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

9 notes · View notes

corpse--diem · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Friendship Forever | Regan & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @kadavernagh & @corpse--diem SUMMARY: Former DFFs bump into each other in a cemetery with death on the brain.

Cemeteries were full of more life than most people gave them credit for. Mornings were her favorite, when the sun started to warm the world again. Erin had her biases and the added convenience of living across the street from one her entire life. But there were few places in this town that grounded and comforted her all at once like Strawford Park could. It made this place feel like home again if only for a few moments. Not even this place could silence the voices in her head--especially her uninvited guest--but it was worth it for what she hoped it would bring. Her feet slowed at a portion of the path that broke off into the middle of the cemetery that stretched into a sea of assorted headstones and greenery as far as anyone could see. Knew that if she took a left now and another left at the second tree further up she’d be at her parents’ plot. It probably looked like an overgrown, weed-riddled mess at this point. She could hear her mother’s scorning, teasing tone. How does someone kill marigolds, Erin? I picked these on purpose! You’ve got to try and kill them! A small smile lifted the corner of her lips and she stared hard at the path. She almost made that left turn. Almost.

Something stronger than nostalgia won control of her movements and she continued forward. Not today. Not now. There were enough demons she had to face these days without diving into that emotional baggage. Lifted her head when she heard footsteps not far and a jolt of panic stopped her again like a brick wall had just shot up in front of her. Shit. “Regan…” she started, a soft roll of her eyes. A taste of the anger from their last encounter months ago in the morgue flared up in her chest. Present, but considerably tame in comparison. Time had an effect on emotions like that sometimes. “What are you doing here?” Erin asked, wincing inwardly. Regretted the insanely obvious question as soon as she’d asked it. This was Regan, after all. “I--uh--,” she shook her head quickly, narrowing her eyes at the path just beyond Regan. Fuck. She could do this. Play the pleasant adult before moving on. Hopefully. “How are you?” She asked.

The moon is so wonderful tonight… I bet Ulfric is loving it. “What?” Regan asked aloud, even though she suspected no one would answer. “It’s daytime. And who is Ulfric?” That name sounded familiar, though. A scream that seemed to shoot out of a nearby headstone made her freeze in place, before sprinting away. Cemeteries used to be so peaceful and quiet. Even though they still had some kind of tranquility to them, some kind of indescribable comfort, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Regan kept her eyes low, sweeping them across the grass in front of her to watch for signs of squirrels and birds. She almost didn’t see that someone else was going for a stroll of their own nearby. But then she heard her name, coming from-- “Erin?” Oh, no. The last time they saw each other flickered through Regan’s mind. The broken glass, the fear in Erin’s eyes. And even before that, Erin nearly drowning in a glass of water because of words that Regan had spoke. A shudder rolled down her spine. There was no way Erin wanted to be here talking to her right now, and she couldn’t even blame her for that.

“What am I doing here?” Regan looked around at the sea of headstones. A disembodied voice shouted something about the lake, and a whisper curled past her ear. She shivered, but did her best to ignore it. “I go for a walk here a couple times a week. I live right nearby, remember? I assume you’re doing the same thing.” Regan eyed Erin, studying the dark circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. She seemed tired, and not in the way of being sleep-deprived. “Uh,” she sputtered, as Erin seemed to do the same. Small chat. That’s what this was. “Look, you don’t have to-- I mean, I know things aren’t-- I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want--” She pressed a cold palm to her forehead and sighed to herself. At herself. Looked back at Erin. “I'm... things have improved recently, by a little over five feet. Are you alright? You look tired, and just a little bit annoyed, both of which are reasonable.” She paused, considering for a moment. “Do you want to talk about--” Nope. She clamped her mouth shut. Bad idea.

Crap. Did this mean Erin was going to have to avoid certain cemeteries now to skirt around awkward interactions now? She hadn’t thought about it before literally, and even as justifiable as her anger was, the pettiness layered in there too. Was she still going to do it? Probably. The hurt in her chest was as real as her fury. “Yeah, right. I remember. Dumb question, sorry,” she said. Ugh. That night she’d accidentally stumbled upon the medical examiner’s door felt like a lifetime ago. Almost instantly, that macabre bond formed over anatomically incorrect skeleton cookies and wholly invested death chat. It was almost still a sweet memory. She’d promised Regan more than she’d ever bargained for that night too. “Five feet, huh?” It was petty again, she knew that, but a small genuine smile overtook her. Oh, Blanche was going to be pissed, but the words left her before she had the better sense to shut it down. “I heard something about you flying out of the window--I mean off the handle for a little bit?” She asked. Nope. She couldn’t do this. This conversation had gone on for less than two minutes and already she was snipping at her like a toddler who hadn’t napped.

A heavy sigh fell from her and she regretted her last comments already. “I’m fine. And I hope you’re fine too, Regan. I mean that. I’m glad you’re… better.” She shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. That’s a nice skull. Seriously? Her eyes snapped back open and she looked up. “What? No. What did I just--I don’t want to talk about skulls. I don’t want to talk about anything.” She shifted tensely where she stood. “Should you--should you even be here? What if you, uh--” she gestured with her hand towards her mouth. The scream.

Regan felt a sigh leave her mouth as Erin seemed to make peace with the fact the two of them were standing closer than a mile apart. She even did her best to ignore the curt comments. “That’s not amusing.” She wasn’t taking the bait. Blanche had thrown so much of it her way already; Bishop, too. But the sudden jerking of Erin’s head made Regan jump. “What? I didn’t say anything about-- I mean, I can talk about skulls if you want me to. But you just said you apparently don’t want to discuss them. Unless… do you have one with you? Can I see it?” Doubtful. On both counts. Erin looked like the only thing she wanted to hand over was a punch to the eye orbital. But there was a fresh skull nearby, wasn’t there? It flicked at her senses from a short distance away. Every second she stood there seemed like a bad idea-- maybe worse than inviting her to the morgue before. “I should probably, uh-- I mean, it’s getting dark out.” Regan motioned to the sky, which was slowly filling with the colors of an old contusion.

But Erin asked a question and, wait, what was she doing with her mouth? Oh. Oh. Of course. “We’re in a cemetery. If that did happen, it’d be much safer here than just about anywhere el-- uh, not that I-- I’m not going to scream at you.” Regan hissed air through her teeth. Lungs, don’t make me a liar. The pressure stirred, but didn’t try to escape. “It’s still, uh, I’m working on it. Trying to.” She hung her head down for a moment, kicking up a small bit of fresh grave soil. “I’m really sorry about what happened at the morgue. I never meant to hurt you. Really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I still think everyone in this town is out of their mind, but I’m doing everything I can to avoid hurting anyone else.” She met Erin’s eyes, frowning. They had been friends, once. Maybe not close, but they’d connected in a way few people could relate to, and that was something special, wasn’t it? But looking at Erin, it seemed the wound from before was still very much open, and given how her lessons with Deirdre were going and the lack of progress being made, maybe that was for the best. “I’ll leave you to it. But if you did want a skull -- and not a human one -- there’s one buried a few inches underground there, I think.” Regan pointed past a few headstones.

Erin could see that Regan was trying, and she felt a twinge of guilt for being so short. Not too guilty, but enough to stop her from letting loose much more of her barely contained wrath. It wasn’t meant for the doctor, not right now anyway. But wait--she didn’t say anything about the skulls? Fuck. That must have been Kaden. Again. “Right,” she shook her head. That was getting old too. But even as Regan tried to comfort her about the screaming thing, some fear nagged at her regardless. Once you endured a Regan scream, even a scream-lite, you didn’t want to have to tolerate another one. And they were in prime death territory. Bodies were buried beneath their feet and completely surrounded them.

“No, no, that’s--okay,” Erin shook her head, turning down the skeleton offer. Another time, that probably would’ve been a pretty fun way to spend her morning but those days were past them. Not like she had much time to spare for light, fun things anyway. “I should--” I wonder if the wings also flutter during an orgasm. The loud, intrusive thought made her stop mid-speech and all Erin could do was gape like a fish over at Regan. And now she was thinking about it. And suddenly this all had become way, way too much. “I’ve gotta go. Now,” she averted her eyes, suddenly blushing red. In her haste to rush out of there, she brushed Regan’s arm and fumbled a little, mumbling a small apology as she tried to keep going.

Get out of here, Kavanagh. As each second ticked by, it became increasingly clear that Erin was either still angry, or still afraid, or both, and there was no way to change that. Not now, and maybe not ever. Regan tried to ignore the sting of it, of such a potential friend lost, but it was hard to leave it well alone instead of trying to dislodge it and figure out exactly why everything had to go so wrong. Just as Regan was turning away, and just as Erin seemed to want to do the same, Erin froze like something gripped her from behind. “Erin?” Regan turned back toward her, heels swiveling in the dirt. I’ve gotta go. Now. “Did I-- what did I--” But Erin’s face was burning red, probably the warmest thing in the cemetery. “What happened? Are you alright? Did you have a heart palpitation or--”

Erin’s skin against her arm. She really was warm, but something about the contact filled Regan’s insides with an icy dread, and the cemetery around them unmade itself, headstones falling into nothingness and grass turning into wooden floorboards. There was a flash of fury as Erin lunged toward the man with a baseball bat. It made hard contact with his temple and he was on the floor. Regan screeched, falling backwards. She could feel wet grass caught in her palms and her coccyx collide with the dirt, but she couldn’t see it. Instead she saw Erin scavenge his pockets. Gun catching the light. Erin rolled him into a body bag, her face hard and determined with not a hint of guilt or disgust or shame or-- another flash, this time of death all around her, dark and suffocating rather than familiar and comforting. Regan could feel it thick in the hearse, thick around Erin. Could feel the pull of the man from the trunk. “Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?” Erin was talking. To the cadaver of the man she’d just smacked with a baseball bat. The man she’d killed. Regan repeated the words aloud trying to make sense of them, trying to pull them apart and understand just what she was seeing, but if Erin was a murderer, then there was no understanding. None to be found. The cemetery rebuilt itself and Regan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push down both the nausea and the scream threatening to pry itself from her lungs.

Erin was still making strides to get away when she realized Regan had stopped talking. Regan didn’t normally just stop talking--babbling and nervous rambling was easily one of her more noticeable traits, and she had been in the middle of exactly that when she’d suddenly stopped. The glance back froze Erin’s entire being in place. Those fucking eyes. The same black ones she saw at the morgue. She was bracing for it--the scream. Hadn’t she literally just voiced her fears about that? Was this literally about to be the morgue all over again? She didn’t have time to be angry--her body was already slipping into an adrenaline fueled flight stance. Regan fell back, staring off at nothing again, though she knew that wasn’t true. She saw something. Oh fuck. Oh, here it came. Erin was turning to run now when Regan opened her mouth--

“Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?”

It took a few moments but the chilling realization built up thick in her chest the longer she stared. Dale. Slowly, her face burning deeper than before. “What di-” she tried to ask but words scraped the inside of her throat. How could she know that? Where the hell did that come from? Had she seen something? No. No. That was impossible. She didn’t come any closer to her, didn’t try to help her up. Just stared, that itch to run needling at her thighs. “What did you just say?” Erin finally managed with a slight waver, nearly devoid of her previous anger. The chilling fear was rapidly rebuilding that one, though. “What the hell did you just say to me, Regan?” She snapped, stepping forward.

For a moment, Regan could still see it pulsing behind her eyeballs. Erin’s fury and fear. Erin killing a man. Erin shoving him into a body bag. Erin sticking him in the back of her hearse. As headstones and statues remade themselves in front of her, she tried to summon that dark room back like it had been a memory rather than a hallucination. It felt close, but before she could get ahold of it, it streaked away, replaced by the solid feeling of the ground underneath her. But it-- it didn’t matter. Erin would never-- she wouldn’t, right? But how well did Regan really know her? They were friends, once. They were. Was she capable of killing? One hard lesson learned from the autopsy suite: everyone was.

But trusting a hallucination? Kaden thought they were real. Visions, he’d called them, ridiculous though it was. Erin, too. And now here she was, in a situation where she probably hoped Regan would still refuse to put any stock in them. Regan laid her palms flat against the wet grass and looked up at Erin’s petrified face. The blood had drained from it, and she looked as lifeless as the skeletons under their feet. Erin was trying to say something, trying to stutter through it. And there was that look. Stony but fearful. The same one Erin had given her at the morgue that was etched into Regan’s mind like the sound of a funeral bell.

“I said-- why? You clearly heard me. Does it mean anything to you? I thought I saw, I mean, I did see you--” Regan gave Erin a hard stare. Was she looking at a murder right now? Had she known the words had been her own? As impossible as it seemed-- no, of course it wasn’t possible. But it was difficult not to look past it, to not factor it in, to not even consider it. And Erin was angry now. She was, wasn’t she? Slowly, Regan wobbled to her feet, bracing herself on a nearby headstone, just for a second. “I, uh-- sorry, I got lightheaded for a-- I’m going to go. Now. I’m going to go now. Right now.” One more look over at Erin before she started running. It had to be all in her head. But if it wasn’t, and if for just an instant she could set aside centuries of medical knowledge and publications and logic, then… then she needed time to make sense of the unthinkable.

#chatzy #chatzy: regan #chatzy: dead friendship forever #wickedswriting

13 notes · View notes

chucklestheechidona · 4 years ago

Text

Freedom Fighters - An Unceremonious Death

For the love of god let them die

Look, I like the Freedom Fighters. More the reboot than the preboot, they have less baggage, but still, I respect what they did. But if you’ve read my other dumb things you also know I think Red Dwarf USA had a real chance of working, so maybe I’m just insane.

Either way, this whole Rally For Sally business has been going around and disturbing the usual culprits from their dens and I feel I should say something.

“The American Canon“

This is a stupid sentence and yet thrown around as you like. There is no American canon, there is just “The Canon” and “Non-canon.” Believe it or not, the people who make the product get to decide what’s done with it and what is canon.

If you made something and then in France they made an entirely different story with concepts and themes you didn’t want to explore, you’d be hesitant about including or acknowledging it. Same with Sega of Japan.

But then why did Sega allow this to be made?

Well, I think this needs a tad bit of history behind it.

We’re going to the 90′s

Denim was in, the future was here, everything in 2000′s would be chrome and the Y2k bug was on the horizon.

Ohno

But Sega of Japan had an issue. Their arcade machines were selling like nobody’s business but they wanted that sweet console piece of the pie, but had no winning mascot. Alex Kidd, unfortunately, wasn’t moving as many consoles as they had hoped, god knows not enough to rival Mario.

They needed something cool, something different, somethi- It’s Sonic. You know it is, I know it is, I ain’t dragging this on.

It did well enough in Japan, but Sega was focusing on international markets with this game. It had a somewhat universal design, helped by the basis being Felix and Mickey Mouse which were popular around the world, with catchy songs based on both Japanese and American releases from the past.

It was going to be a hit.

Or... was it?

Did they need to do more?

Well, Sega doesn’t just have Sega of Japan. It had SOE and SOA as well. Europe and America respectively. Others too I’m sure but my memory’s off.

SoA and SoJ had a somewhat shaky relationship with each other, but then again, so did other companies back then. It was a new foray into public relations. Japan built the consoles that actually sold, America had to sell them, but there was a big gap between the countries, how things were interpreted, different values, and let’s not forget, American pride and greed.

AMERICA in the 90′s

SOJ needed this thing to sell big. Sonic was going to be a global success if they could help it. And let’s be honest, it was.

America had it’s own plans on what Sonic should be, and SOJ actually listened to some of them. Madeline Schroeder, product manager at the time for Sega in the US, actually went to Japan to say what she thought Sonic would be. As of this, they removed Madonna and Sonic’s tie-in with a band, as well as changing certain design traits in the US because “Sonic looked too Japanese.“

And then had the gall to call herself the “Mother Of Sonic”

Again, in a world where shitting on other people’s culture is a big no-no, and for good reason, how that managed to be fine is insane.

It’s a Japanese fucking product, Madeline.

Alongside this, as SOA hadn’t had much access to the Japanese backstories (although, the manuals should have been fine enough), when it came to marketing the games as an ongoing story (and ready in time for the cartoons they wanted to push) SOA made their own Sonic Bible, for use outside of non-Japanese territories.

This would have the seeds of what most people know, Freedom Fighters, Eggman once being good, Sonic being part of the good fight, etc.

[Astoundingly, when they made the cartoons and everything, Fleetway would be the one to actually stick closer to this than Archie/Satam/Underground/Aosth ever did so who’s talking about canon now huh]

Japan didn’t really notice nor take heed. One could make a good case for their complete obliviousness to what SOA was doing. You can tell because absolutely nothing from the bible/comics/magazine ever appeared in a Japanese Sonic game. Spinball was Sega Technical Institute, an American Division. Not Sega of Japan.

On top of this, as I see a bunch of people who go “Sega is disrespecting the American canon”, interesting fact. In Europe and Japan, the manual for Sonic CD clearly states Amy Rose is in the game. Sega of America actually edited this to say Sally, despite not going through and changing the sprites. If that’s not disrespect towards the creators of the games I don’t know what is.

The Canon

The problem I find with this is that, let’s be honest, if we had to look at this from an objective viewpoint:

Japan released a game.

America sought to profit off it, but didn’t like it was very much Japanese, not American.

They changed the story to be more American themed, changed the art design to look more American drawn, and ignored the Japanese additions to the games by editing out the Japanese characters in the manuals.

Because they wanted to profit off a different culture’s work by changing it wholesale so it didn’t resemble the culture it came from.

Nothing about SatAm’s premise or creation says anything about the original material it came from, just heavily adapted without any input from it’s creators to resemble a more American product.

You know how Japan saw Sonic?

This cute lad who acted more like a cartoon Felix the Cat type figure.

Now I get it, especially in the 90′s, everyone was localising. The markets weren’t as much the same, god knows they gave Ratchet attack eyebrows to be appealing etc.

But this was so anti-Japanese that the fact they were profiting at all from a Japanese product is insane.

Adventure

Back in Japan in the 90′s, they didn’t really have much of an idea what they were doing with the canon. They had plans but they seemed to be not as stable as they would have liked. The amount of games they were pumping out with different Eggman attacks and characters and if the GG games fit in with the MD games-

They needed something a bit more stable.

So when it was their time for their biggest game yet, they started to reign things in. In Japan. In Europe.

In America.

Sonic Adventure would be the basis for the stories for the next decade or so, with some revisions on what came before, what was mainline, what have you.

At this point, SOA’s cartoons had all died and the only thing remaining in the Sonic canon from that time was the Archie comic, still ongoing. But yet America still pulled this stuff off.

In the original script, Eggman is still Eggman. None of this “I AM DOCTOR ROBOTNIK, GENIUS OF THE WORLD” schtick.

No changing the manuals this time at least, so they’re getting better.

Over time, the only surviving things to come out of the canon, which Sega was nice enough to do considering, was

- Chilli-dogs - I HATE THAT HEDGEHOG - Robotnik being Maria’s surname

Didn’t you have something to say about the Freedom Fighters?

Why yes I do.

So, the Freedom Fighters for me, as much as I like them as , represent an American centrism. Not only was America not a Sega dominated market, for Nintendo did better and Europe was buying Sega consoles like candy, but the characters and show weren’t that popular outside the country anyway.

Ask someone in Europe in the 90′s who Sally Acorn was and unless they had access to a specific channel they wouldn’t have the first idea. Amy Rose, for sure, she was in the games.

I didn’t know who Sally was until Mega Collection Plus came out, and the UK STILL manages to get Sonic games in the top of the charts when they come out.

Aosth was shown more abroad with more appeal, the comics weren’t sold internationally, let alone in Japan.

To be all “But these characters cemented the Western fanbase” is mental.

The comics sold somewhere in the tens of thousands in their hey-day. At the same time, Sonic games were selling millions. The comic and show are so old that unless you were part of the 20,000 buying the comics recently or pirated them, you don’t even know who they are.

Fleetway was the only Sonic comic we got in the UK, and there’s more fans that have grown up with Sonic Adventure being the basis which had absolutely no inspiration from the Western products.

These characters are relics of America taking the mick out of a Japanese product in order to make more money and produce shows.

To say they’ve made a big impact on Sonic in the world is really stretching it.

F.A.Q

But you said you liked the FF’s!

I do, but in the same way I like AU’s. It was interesting, of it’s time and it said a lot about the culture it was made in. Like, comparable to Tails gets Trolled or Fleetway

B-but I really like the FF’s!

Good for you, don’t let me stop you. Again, I like a bunch of the stories.

Are you a Japanese purist?

Fleetway is cool and I liked the Boom show, and I liked Robotnik better than Eggman as a name.

I heard that some Japanese fans actually liked the FF’s though...

And more power to them. Again, Red Dwarf USA does a lot to shit on what made the UK version so good but I respect what it tried to do. Again, even I like the FF’s to an extent.

Why did you write this all out?

Seeing all this Rally for Sally has brought out all the insane people who shout at SOJ for being gits for not respecting the American canon despite the American canon being born from a disrespect to the Japanese creators.

What about IDW?

Ironically I actually liked Reboot more but also I was younger when I read them.

What do you think of Tangle and Whisper getting in?

I need to read more of IDW but they’re good enough. As for getting in the games, these designs were vetted and passed through SOJ first and the comic is overseen by them. On top of this, T+W don’t come from a place of SOA taking the mick.

But Sega has used these characters before and ESTABLISHED this as canon why are they changing it now-

I see this a lot, usually with certain people. Dobson’s a good example of why this is stupid. When the Japanese revert changes made to characters like Mario/Zelda/Samus by the West, they didn’t radically change their personalities, they just reset them to what Japan intended.

Japan never intended for the FF’s, the three heavily contrasting cartoons and Knuckles is Jesus Christ Superstar.

They just reverted him back to the sole guy on Angel Island.

Do you think Sally should get in to Sonic Dash?

No more than I think Tekno or Sonia does. They’re old, irrelevant, gone. If they do get brought in for a cameo I’d be happy enough, I like dumb nods to non-canon things.

However, there are crazy people out there and you give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. Best to leave it.

Hotel?

#Sonic the hedgehog #Freedom Fighters #Sally Acorn #Rally4Sally #America #Japan #Hotel?#Trivago

2 notes · View notes

basketofverbiage · 5 years ago

Text

Hold On Pt 4

Here it is! Finally! This is the last piece to Hold On! The final part of this angsty nonsense. For this to be the first fiction I’ve written in 3 years, I’m pretty pleased with the way it turned out.

Words: 8635

Warnings: graphic suicide description by way of nightmares, multiple panic attacks, a tiny bit of sex (nothing too graphic), language (fuck is my favorite curse word and I used it), mentions of rape and trauma; I think that’s all, but if I forgot something, let me know!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Seokjin dried his sweat drenched hair with a small towel as he walked into the dorms with the 6 other members in tow. Everyone was chattering about their impending comeback and splitting off to go shower after an intensive practice learning new choreography. Seokjin headed towards the bedroom he shared with Y/n to grab a quick shower before Y/n was due to get home from work. He pulled his sweaty shirt over his head then walked into their en suite bathroom. When he opened the door, he found Y/n naked in their bathtub, both wrists slit open and more blood than water in the tub. Her lips were completely blue and her skin so pale that she was nearly the same color as the stark white porcelain her head was thrown back against. He screamed for help and ran into the room. When he tried to pull her out of the tub, he saw the large clots of blood tangled in her hair where she had been in the tub with the blood up to her shoulders. He lifted her out of the tub, the blood dripping down his arms and his chest as he carried her towards the living room to try to get someone to help. His chest was slippery with crimson and he was crying and screaming for her to wake up. He stumbled down the hallway with her blood-soaked nude body pressed to his chest, kicking door after door open trying to find one of his brothers to help. When he finally reached the living room, Jimin dropped knocked a vase of black flowers off of their coffee table in his haste to come to help.

At the sound of the crash in his dream, his eyes shot open. Seokjin’s chest was heaving with terror and he could feel the tears dripping down his face. He looked around quickly trying to figure out where he was before remembering that he was on an airplane. The boys had flown out to film episodes of Bon Voyage for ARMY, and Y/n had been unable to come on the trip. She was at home with her parents coming in to Seoul to visit. The crash he’d woken up to was Namjoon bumping into the drink trolley being pushed by a stewardess down the aisle and knocking the ice bucket onto the floor of the plane. Seokjin closed his eyes for a minute and squeezed the RJ plushie plopped in his lap. He needed to calm down before the panic in his chest took over. He took calculatedly slow breaths and concentrated on the feel of RJ in his arms and the sound of Jungkook’s deep, sleepy breaths beside him.

Everyone else was asleep as they had had to board the plane at 2 am, and they had a full schedule when they landed. As much as Seokjin knew he needed to sleep, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to. Having to leave Y/n behind was simply too much for him even though it had been five months since her suicide attempt. She was doing quite well in her recovery and he was so proud of her, but some part of him still didn’t want to let her out of his sight for any extended length of time. Rather than go back to sleep and risk having another nightmare, Seokjin stood and grabbed a book out of his carry-on bag and settled in to read for the remainder of the flight. Just as he settled in again with his book, Jungkook’s head dropped onto his shoulder, and Seokjin just snuggled in to make him more comfortable. The contact helped comfort Seokjin and relieve some of the remaining tension and fear left over from the dream. He knew that Y/n was okay. Her parents would make sure of it.

Just as Seokjin was finishing the first page of the last chapter of his book, the sign came on to alert them to fasten their seatbelts. He jostled Jungkook awake and then fastened his seatbelt in preparation to land.

“Are you okay, Hyung?” Jungkook asked sleepily.

“I’m fine, JK. I just had trouble sleeping, so I read for a while instead.”

Once the plane was on the ground, Jungkook left Seokjin’s side to grab Namjoon’s attention. He just had a feeling that something was off with Jin-hyung and he wanted to make sure someone else new about it. When they walked through the airport, it was surprisingly devoid of fans, but that could be because they had been very quiet about where they had flown to. Without cameras flashing and screaming fans, Jungkook was able to approach the leader while they were walking through as Seokjin was distracted by a conversation he was having with Hoseok.

“Namjoonie-hyung, I think something is wrong with Jin-hyung.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think he slept at all on the flight. Even after he lectured all of us that we should. And he was reading when I woke up. He just seems a bit jumpier than usual,” Jungkook told him. “I just wanted to tell someone else so that we can keep an eye on him.”

“I know he was really worried about leaving Y/n. I bet that’s it. He is trying to put up a good front about it, but he’s still worried. Let’s not call a red alert with all the others just yet. We’ll just keep an eye on him, okay?”

Once Jungkook agreed, they were gathering up a bit of their luggage from baggage claims, then piling everything into three large vans to ferry them to their next destination. The vans drove for nearly thirty minutes before parking outside a local market in the town where they were staying. The boys all piled out of the vans and lined up. The staff took several minutes to explain that they would be doing a shopping challenge. They’d be divided into three groups, and each member would be given an envelope with some money and a theme inside. They were to buy something that went according to the theme that could be divided among the members, whether that be small souvenirs, a snack item, or an item of clothing. Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook would be in one group, Taehyung and Hoseok the second group, and Seokjin and Yoongi the third group. Each member was given their envelopes and sent out to shop. When Seokjin looked in his envelope, his theme was love.

“Well, Yoongi-chi, how should we go about this?” he asked Yoongi.

“I think we should go to the far side of the market and work our way this way. I think everyone else will start on this side.”

Seokjin had to admit that the strategy was a good one, so they started walking in the direction of the far end of the market. They passed several food vendors making various street foods, some clothing vendors, and some souvenir vendors. The vendor in the farthest booth seemed to be that of handmade jewelry made by an older woman from the area.

Seokjin had always heard that sensory memories were the strongest. He had never placed any credence to that until now. As Seokjin was standing just inside the booth glancing about at some bracelets on display, he caught a very strong smell of something. It seemed extremely familiar, but he was having difficulty placing where he had smelled this metallic tang. Something about the smell shook Seokjin; after a few minutes, the smell was particularly strong when the breeze picked up, and then Seokjin remembered the last time he’d smelled it. Y/n had been lying in their bathroom, barely hanging on when he’d found her. In that moment, he could see her sitting there, pale as death already with a huge crimson puddle around her. The memory of seeing Y/n sitting on the floor in that tile bathroom and flashbacks of the nightmare he’d had on the plane were nearly overwhelming, and it wasn’t until he had hit his knees just outside the merchant’s booth and was gasping in the acrid air that he understood that he was having a panic attack. The sound of his knees hitting the earth seemed insanely loud to him and he could hear the rushing of his own blood through his veins. The edges of his vision were getting dark and he felt droplets of sweat drifting down his back between his shoulder blades. Everything was too hot and he couldn’t breathe.

Yoongi had been chatting with the merchant about some rings on display in the back when he heard the thud of Seokjin’s kneecaps smashing into the ground. When he saw Seokjin gasping for breath, he’d known that he was having a panic attack. Yoongi swiftly excused himself from the conversation with the merchant and went to his friend. Yoongi knelt down in front of Seokjin and placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and started speaking. He wasn’t saying anything important really, just trying to gently draw Seokjin’s attention away from the panic he felt. Prior to the night just 5 months previous when Seokjin had saved Y/n’s life after a suicide attempt, Yoongi had been the one in their friendship who was burdened with panic attacks. Seokjin had only had 4 panic attacks that he was aware of until this one, but Yoongi still understood what was happening. After several minutes of Yoongi gently speaking and grounding him with his voice, Seokjin’s breathing finally settled down, but he was so pale and his hands squeezing around Yoongi’s forearms were clammy.

“Jin-hyung, we need to get you somewhere to sit down. Do you think you can stand for me?” Yoongi asked gently.

Seokjin nodded and allowed Yoongi to help him stand. Yoongi wrapped his arm around Seokjin’s waist and started walking them back towards the entrance to the market where there had been a small café. Yoongi wanted to get some water into Seokjin and settle him down a bit before they tried to do anything else. It took a little bit to get there, but when they finally got to the café, Yoongi made Seokjin sit down at a small table near a fan so that a bit of breeze would blow on him and bought a bottle of water from the cashier. After paying for the water, he pulled out his phone and called Namjoon while Seokjin took tiny sips of water.

“Yeah, Joon. One minute he was fine, and the next he was on his knees at the front of the booth. At first I thought he was overheated but then I saw his face. It was definitely a panic attack…yeah, we are in that café near the entrance. I’m making him sip some water and just breathe for a few minutes. Okay, we will see you soon.”

They sat in silence while Seokjin struggled to control his emotions more. It had been 5 months since Y/n’s suicide attempt, and he thought that he had been doing better. He’d thought he’d be okay to come on this trip since her parents were going to be with her in Seoul. Y/n and Seokjin had not immediately told them about the suicide attempt because Y/n hadn’t wanted to worry them and because she knew that there was nothing they could do to help in her recovery. After 3 months, she and Seokjin had finally video chatted with them via Skype and Y/n had admitted everything that had happened. Her brother had known, but she had sworn him to absolute secrecy, and he had abided by her wishes. Upon learning of the traumas she had suffered, Y/n’s parents had immediately begun planning a trip to Seoul to spend 2 weeks with Y/n. Seokjin’s schedule had not allowed for him to be present for the entire 2 weeks, but he would only be missing the first 3 days of their visit before returning home.

Nearly 10 minutes after Yoongi had called Namjoon, all 5 of the other members and Sejin came tumbling into the café. Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look up at his brothers. He felt like all the fluid and energy in his body had been wrung out by two giant hands. Every part of him was screaming to get on a flight and go back to Seoul to make sure that Y/n was okay, but he knew that he couldn’t. He could barely hear his brothers talking quietly amongst themselves with Sejin but couldn’t focus on what they were saying. The panic in his chest was still much too tight. Seokjin was so focused on simply taking breaths and gripping the envelope he’d been given by the staff that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Taehyung’s face appeared right in front of his own.

Taehyung gently cradled Seokjin’s face in his hands. “Jin-hyung, are you okay? You look pale,” he asked softly.

“I don’t know, Taehyungie. I feel like I can’t get any air. I want to go home,” Seokjin whispered back as the tears he had been holding back escaped and dripped hot down his cheeks.

“We can’t go home just yet, hyung. But we can go to the hotel and try to video call Noona. Would that help?” Taehyung inquired as he gently wiped away Seokjin’s tears with his thumbs. Seokjin found that he couldn’t respond properly, so he just nodded and choked a little as he began to sob a bit harder.

“Okay. Let me speak with the other hyungs and Jungkookie, and then we’ll figure everything out. I need you to keep taking deep breaths in your nose and breathing them out of your mouth, alright?” After watching Seokjin taking some deep breaths, Taehyung stood and rejoined the group.

Taehyung met Namjoon’s eyes for a second before speaking. “He’s still in the throes of the panic attack. He said he was having trouble breathing. I think he needs to go back to the hotel. I’ll go with him if the rest of you want to stay behind and shop a bit and finish filming. I need to try to get in touch with Y/n-noona and see if she can video chat with him. He needs to see that she is okay.”

“I already texted her about his panic attack,” Yoongi said.

“And I already reached out to Dr. Kang to let her know what’s happened too in case he needs an emergency session with her by video call,” Namjoon said.

“I don’t want to shop anymore now. I’m worried about Jin-hyung. We can come back here another day,” Jimin said. “Let’s all just go back. If we go back now, we can get Jin-hyung set up on a call with Noona and let him have a nap for a couple of hours if he needs it before we have dinner. We can just order in dinner from somewhere and all pile in one of our rooms and eat together.”

“Good plan, Jimin-ssi. Let’s go,” Taehyung said before turning back to Seokjin. He grasped his hand and helped him stand to walk through the door together.

Y/n was curled up in bed in the dorms with a good book and Yeontan sleeping between her knees when her phone went off on the bedside table. She marked her page then chuckled as Tannie looked up at her with his head tilted to the side as if to say, “Who is messaging us so late, Noona?”

I don’t want to make you worry, Princess. But Jin-hyung just had a panic attack in the middle of the market here. I was with him and got him calmed down a little, but he almost blacked out on me. He may need to video chat you in a bit. -Yoongi-chi

Y/n read the message through twice to make sure she really had read what she thought she had, and now she was worried. Seokjin was always the more stable of the two of them, but he had had a couple of panic attacks during her recovery from the suicide attempt. The first one she had witnessed haunted her a bit. She had just stepped out to the convenience store down the street from the dorms to pick up a few snacks for the guys as she had noticed that they’d run low on some of their favorites, and while she was there, they had the most beautiful apples for sale. She decided that they’d make a lovely tart as dessert for later that evening, so she had grabbed 6 apples, some ice cream, and some fresh cinnamon along with the snacks. She was nearly back to the apartment when her phone went off in her back pocket, but her hands were full so she couldn’t pick up. She figured it was one of the boys, and she had been given the go-ahead by Dr. Kang to be alone more often and without an escort 3 weeks prior, so she hadn’t thought about running down to the store without telling anyone. That had been a mistake. She had struggled with the groceries a bit, but finally got the door open with her too-full hands to find Seokjin sitting on the floor trying to tie his tennis shoes with shaking hands at the same time as he was ringing her phone again. When he saw that she was there and fine, he lost what little composure he’d had and just wrapped his arms around her legs and sobbed. Y/n just dropped the groceries and knelt down to wrap him in her arms until the shaking stopped and he could breathe again. The ice cream had melted beyond repair and leaked onto the welcome mat, and they’d had to throw both out.

After that one, the others had been few and far between. He seemed to bounce right back from the trauma without many lingering effects although he still had nightmares 5 months later. There were nights he’d sit up in their bed and shake her awake in the middle of the night to make sure that her eyes would open then nearly squeeze the breath from her lungs in relief that it was only a dream.

Y/n knew that he had been worried about this trip and her remaining behind, but her parents were in town. They had chosen to stay at a hotel since Y/n and Seokjin were still living with the guys at the dorm. About 2 months after the suicide attempt, they’d sold the apartment; neither of them felt comfortable there anymore because the memories of the darkness they’d lived through lingered too much in the shadows in the corners of the rooms. Since Seokjin’s schedule had ramped up a bit, they hadn’t had much time to house-hunt--and the guys had expressed that they loved having their family all in one place--so they hadn’t rushed to find a new home.

She realized that she’d just left Yoongi on read for nearly 10 minutes while she was lost in her thoughts, so she quickly responded. Thank you for letting me know, Yoongi-chi. He can call anytime he wants. I’m just curled up reading with Tannie.

Waiting for a response felt insanely long. Y/n was beginning to get very worried that something worse had happened when her phone went off with a request from Taehyung to Facetime.

“Hi TaeBae! You’re looking good today,” she said cheerfully to Taehyung when his face popped on her screen.

He winked back at her then said, “Thank you, Noona. I still have makeup on from the schedule this morning. Jin-hyung is in the bathroom, but I know he will be excited to speak with you when he comes out.”

“Yoongi-chi told me what happened. Is he okay, Tae?”

“He finally started settling down more in the car on the way back here because I had promised him we’d call you and he could see that you are really okay. I didn’t ask what triggered his panic attack because he was still so pale. I really thought he was going to pass out for a minute there in that café.”

Before Y/n was able to reply, she heard a door click closed from somewhere in the room with Taehyung, then Taehyung started giggling. After a minute or two, Seokjin’s face popped into view beside Taehyung’s. He was shirtless and clean faced, but his hair was sticking up everywhere where he’d been brushing it back to wash the makeup off. Taehyung handed him his phone, then smoothed down his hair.

“I’m going to go take a bubble bath. You two chat all you want,” he smiled before kissing Seokjin on the forehead and wondering off out of frame.

Y/n could see that Seokjin was wiped of energy. The panic attack must have been the worst one yet. For the first few minutes, neither said anything. They just looked at each other to assess the other’s emotional wellbeing. The part that made her chest ache was his eyes, usually so bright and mischievous, were still tinted red from crying during the panic attack and the dark circles beneath them from lack of sleep were purple bruises marring his otherwise flawless skin.

“Are you okay, Jinnie?” she finally asked softly, trying to keep the worry off of her face.

He smiled gently, then said, “I’m better now. I had a nightmare on the plane.”

As he launched into an explanation of his nightmare and the flight, Y/n took a moment to examine his face again. While he had done an excellent job of hiding how affected he had been most days to try to be strong for her, it seemed to have been slowly catching up. His nightmares had become much more frequent in recent weeks and had all culminated in today. She wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and pull him into her arms. He looked so worn down and utterly exhausted that her heart felt like it was breaking in her chest.

“Yoongi-chi found out from the owner of the café that there is a slaughterhouse in the lot in behind the market. That’s why it smelled so strongly there,” Seokjin explained weakly. “When I realized what I was smelling, it all came crashing back in on me and I went down. I have bruises on my knees from landing on the cobblestones of the pathway.”

Y/n watched helplessly as the love of her life fell apart and there was nothing she could do to comfort him. He was several hundred miles away. She wanted to wipe the tears off of his cheeks and hold him so badly that she started to cry with him.

“I’m so sorry, Jinnie. This is all my fault,” she whimpered guiltily.

She couldn’t help but to cry with him. This was truly all her fault. They spoke for a few more minutes, both desperately trying to calm down and comfort the other. After a few minutes of her silently crying, Yeontan stood up and started trying to lick the tears off of her face. At the sight of his furry head popping up into frame, Seokjin let a startled giggle out. Y/n hadn’t told Seokjin that Tannie was in bed with her.

“Baby, I’ve been gone less than a day, and you already let another man into our bed?” he said in mock outrage.

Seokjin’s horrible attempt at a joke about Tannie was enough to break the tension they both felt and they both were able to laugh some and calm down completely. After a few more minutes of chatting, Seokjin brought Taehyung’s phone with him and propped it up on a pillow so that he could stretch out. He felt exhausted, and knew he needed to sleep some. Plus, the time difference meant that it was bedtime for Y/n. He felt lighter at having been able to see her and speak with her, so after a few more minutes, he was able to disconnect the call and sleep soundly for a few hours.

While Seokjin was sleeping off his exhaustion, the rest of the guys were camped out in the tiny adjoined living room trying to make a game plan for the rest of the weekend. They knew they still had schedules the following days and needed to make sure that Seokjin would have the support he needed.

“I think that maybe we should just take turns staying with him. Night will be the worst for him when it’s quiet and he has room to think,” Yoongi said thoughtfully.

“I agree, Hyung. It will be easy for us to distract him when we are out and about, but harder when he’s alone in his hotel room,” Hoseok replied.

“I’ll stay with him tonight,” Taehyung volunteered. “He seemed to be okay with me earlier. I curled up in the tub while he talked to Noona, and he was asleep when I came out.”

During their discussion, Jungkook decided he would spend the next night with Seokjin, and Yoongi opted for the final night they would be there. In speaking with Sejin, they completely removed the shopping challenge in the market from their schedules; it simply wasn’t worth the risk of triggering another panic attack for some silly footage of the guys shopping. The footage of Seokjin collapsing in the market was deleted as soon as they got back to the hotel at Namjoon’s insistence since it was such a private matter.

“Now that we have a game plan, what should we order for dinner?” Jimin asked. “I don’t think Jin-hyung has eaten all day, and he needs to.”

As Seokjin and the boys were finishing dinner, Y/n was having an early breakfast with her parents. They had met up at a tiny bistro near her parents’ hotel. They had a full day planned as her mom had wanted to take a tour of the city that Y/n now called home. Y/n made a serious effort to keep the conversation light and cheery despite the left-over worry that still teased the back of her mind after the call with Seokjin the previous night.

“Are you okay, Honey? You keep checking your phone,” her mom asked, concerned.

Y/n hadn’t planned on telling her parents about Seokjin’s panic attack, but she also felt like she needed them to know why she was on high alert. Her mom always could tell when something was wrong, so she finally decided to just tell them.

“Well, you know how Seokjin is having to travel for their schedules?” When her mom nodded, Y/n continued on. “He had a panic attack in an open-air market where they are filming after having a nightmare about my suicide attempt on the plane. They had to completely cancel yesterday’s schedules because he nearly blacked out. We video chatted after the guys got him calmed down, but I’m just worried about him. I mean, I trust the other 6 to take care of him, but I feel terrible. This whole thing is my fault. I just know that he will call if he needs me and I don’t want to miss it if he does.”

Y/n’s mom sipped her tea thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “Darling, it’s understandable for you to be concerned about him, but there is absolutely nothing you can do for him right now. If the way his 6 brothers have cared for you the last few months is any indication of who they are as people, I feel confident that he is in good hands. Why don’t we just make sure to do things today where your phone’s ringer can be loud? We can save the quieter things we want to do, like your father’s art museums, for when Seokjin gets home.”

“That sounds good. Plus, I’m sure you two will need to meet the guys anyway, and Namjoonie and Taehyungie both know the art museums nearby insanely well. They go there to recharge on their off days.”

Seokjin honestly didn’t know what he would do without his brothers. They had literally made sure that every moment of the remaining two days were so jam packed that he barely had time to go to the restroom; there was no way he could dwell on his worry for Y/n. They had made sure that he had been able to video call her every day, and although he would never breathe a word of it, the fact that Taehyung, Jungkook, and even Yoongi-chi had curled up in bed with him and wrapped him in their arms so he could sleep meant so much to him. In fact, when Jimin unlocked the door to come wake them up to get ready to go to the airport, he took a sneaky photo of Seokjin and Yoongi in bed spooning. He found it adorable that despite their size difference, Seokjin was a perfect little spoon. Jimin had sent the photo to Y/n before waking them because he knew that Yoongi would moan and complain and make him delete the photo if he found out about it.

The flight home went by so much faster than he thought it would. Seokjin was fairly exhausted from the early mornings and late nights, full schedules, and strong emotions over the last few days. On this flight, he was the middle seat between Yoongi and Namjoon. Yoongi had kept a much closer eye on Seokjin since the collapse in the market and had wanted to be nearby in case of nightmares on the flight. Luckily, Seokjin slept soundly for nearly the entire flight back to Seoul.

When the plane landed, it had taken them nearly 45 minutes to gather all of their bags and get in cars headed back to the dorm. It was 4 in the afternoon when they got back, and Y/n wasn’t at home. He wasn’t terribly worried because he had known that she was with her mom and dad. He kept himself busy with unpacking his things from the trip. At 7, Y/n had texted that she was having dinner with her parents and that she’d be back afterwards, so he had made dinner for the boys, then cleaned the kitchen. Honestly, he wasn’t nervous at all until he realized that it was now 10:30 pm, completely dark out, and he hadn’t heard anything from her.

He tried to stay calm; he really did. Maybe there was a wait at the restaurant or traffic or something like that. But at 11:30 when she still wasn’t back and his calls to her phone were going straight to voicemail, his fear about her being hurt resurfaced with a raging vengeance. He realized then that there was no way that he could climb into their bed without knowing where she was, so he got dressed again. As he was sitting down to tie his shoes, Jungkook came out from his room.

“Where you heading to at this time of the night, Hyung?”

“I need to go. Y/n still isn’t home, Kook,” he replied.

Jungkook noticed the quiver in Seokjin’s voice and volunteered to go with him. There was no way in hell he was going to let his distraught hyung wander the streets alone in the dark. Jungkook grabbed a hoodie for himself and a jacket for Seokjin, then popped his head into Yoongi’s room.

“Hyung, Y/n isn’t home yet, and isn’t answering her phone. Jin-hyung is losing it and wanting to go search for her. I’m going with him to keep him calm. Just keep an ear out please and if she comes in before we get back, please call us.”

Yoongi agreed quickly, but it was obvious that he was just as concerned. Most of the other boys were already sound asleep fighting off jet lag, so it was important for someone to be aware of what was going on before they left. Jungkook helped Seokjin into his jacket and then slid his boots on. They had just locked the door to the apartment when the lift door at the end of the hallway opened and Y/n stepped out.

“Jinnie? Kookie? Where are you going so late?”

At the sound of her voice, Seokjin’s head shot up and he looked at her with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound would come out; he felt like he was being throttled by the relief bubbling out of his chest at seeing her standing in the dimly lit hallway.

“We were coming to look for you, Noona. Jin-hyung was starting to get super worried because he couldn’t get you on the phone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jinnie! My phone died an hour ago. After dinner, my parents stumbled on a live band in a plaza near the restaurant where we ate and wanted to stay and watch the set. I didn’t realize the time until my dad checked his phone. He called me a taxi home since they were just down the street from their hotel,” Y/n explained as she enveloped him in a hug.

Seokjin didn’t say anything. He just squeezed her tight, then unlocked the door. Jungkook wandered back off to his room. Seokjin was eerily quiet as he took her hand and walked her back to their bedroom. He could feel the adrenaline and fear shooting through his veins and knew he needed to sit down soon, but he wanted them to be somewhere private. He shut the door behind them, then sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

Y/n had never seen him like this. Even the day she woke up in the hospital, he was calm and collected. He cried some that day, but he stayed in control of his stronger emotions the entire time. She sat her bag down just inside the door and crossed the room to him just as his shoulders began to tremble. By the time she made the ten steps from the door to where he was perched on their bed, she could hear him gasping and trying to take a breath in. Y/n pulled his hands away from his face and tilted his face up so he would be forced to meet her eyes.

“Seokjinnie, you have to take slower breaths, Love.” She put his hand on her chest so he could feel the rhythm of her own breaths, then said, “Breathe with me, Baby. Slow and easy.”

She kept guiding him through slowing his breathing, letting him palpate the steady rise and fall of her chest as she spoke in a soothing voice. She also maintained eye contact with him so he could see that she was okay and present with him. It took several minutes for him to calm down completely, but when he finally did she wrapped him up in her arms and held him tight.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. I should have called you from my dad’s phone, but I didn’t realize that my phone had died. I hate that I keep making you feel this way.”

Seokjin took a shuddering breath before speaking. “No, I’m sorry for being weak. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but sometimes I think that one day I’m going to wake up and this will have all been a horrible dream and you won’t really be here. I will have lost you in that fucking bathroom. I just need to see you and feel you then to remind myself that this is real. You are real.”

Y/n wiped the frightened tears off of his cheeks gently before kissing him lightly on the lips. His perfect lips tasted like saline from his tears, but she didn’t care.

“I’m here, Seokjin. I’m real, and I’m here. And I love you so much,” she murmured to him between a few soft, chaste kisses.

He looked into her eyes like she was the only existence on the entire Earth and brushed his fingertips across her lips, then her cheeks, and finally let them get lost in the brambles of her curly hair. He kissed her again then, the half-dried tears on his cheeks pressed onto hers, and she wanted so desperately to absorb his worry and fear through his parted lips. Their kisses started soft and slow, just a delicate reminder of their love for each other, their bodies expressing the emotions that words couldn’t. Over time, the kisses became more heated and more frantic. Seokjin pulled Y/n up off the floor and into his lap.

“I need to be close to you, Y/n. This isn’t close enough for me right now,” he whispered to her with their foreheads pressed together as they both took a few moments to breathe.

Y/n didn’t feel the need to say anything with words; she just nodded. She kissed Seokjin gently one more time then tugged his white tee over his head, running her hands soothingly up his back and across the golden expanse of his shoulders along the way. Once his shirt was gone, hers came next, followed by her bra. Seokjin lifted her with him and repositioned on the bed to have his back against the headboard. They just stayed there for a few minutes wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the intimacy fill in the spaces the fear and worry had left behind.

That night, very few words were spoken aloud. They let the gentle caresses, sweet moans, and gasps of pleasure be their language. Y/n engraved the love and adoration she felt for Seokjin into his heart, his mind, and his body with her hands, her mouth, and her body. They had a healthy sexual relationship, but in that moment, it wasn’t about the sex. It was about Y/n offering him a gentle, soothing balm to his spirit with her body and her heart; she wanted to show him how much she loved him and how thankful she was for him in the only way that seemed to fit. Seokjin was mesmerized by her and fell into the balm she offered to his very soul. When they fell asleep skin to skin and closer than close, Seokjin felt some of the pieces of his soul that had shattered the night he’d found her nearly dead on the bathroom floor snap sharply back into place.

Y/n woke up first the next morning as the light filtered hazily through the slats in the blinds. She watched the sunbeams bask the skin of Seokjin’s bare chest in a golden glow and was once again struck by his beauty. She felt so fortunate to have him in her life.

“I can feel you staring at me, BabyGirl,” he teased without even opening his eyes.

“How can I not stare? I mean, have you seen yourself?” she giggled as she poked his cheek.

He opened his eyes then and smiled down at her. “I mean, I am gorgeous, but I think you have me beat.”

After a few minutes of silly conversation and Seokjin making a couple of Worldwide Handsome comments, they finally pulled themselves out of bed. They were due to meet up with Y/n’s parents in a few hours to have lunch and take them to see some of their interests around Seoul. While Y/n was in the shower, Seokjin sipped coffee in the kitchen.

“Hey, Hyung. Jungkookie told me what happened with Y/n. You okay?” Yoongi asked as he poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee.

“Yeah, I had myself so worked up that I panicked again, but she put me back together,” he said thoughtfully. “It really got me to thinking. I woke up around 3 am and watched her sleep in the moonlight, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without her. I think I want to marry her, Yoongi-chi.”

Yoongi smiled softly before saying, “It’s about time you realized it. The rest of us were starting to wonder if you just didn’t have the nerve to ask her.”

“I haven’t even made it that far yet. But I might need your help picking out a ring. You and Y/n have similar tastes in jewelry.”

Two nights before Y/n’s parents were set to fly home, Seokjin had invited them to the apartment to meet the other members and so that he could make them dinner. Y/n’s mom had hugged each of the members and tearfully thanked them for caring for her little girl so well and had promptly become attached to each of them. Seokjin had banned Y/n from helping him with dinner, having instead recruited Yoongi-chi to be his sous chef. He wanted her to spend every second that she could with her parents. However, he had purposefully forgotten to pick up one specific ingredient he needed for one of the dishes knowing that she’d volunteer to go get it. Jimin and Taehyung volunteered as her escort and off they went to the convenience store down the street, giving Seokjin just enough time to speak with her parents alone. As soon as he was sure that Y/n wouldn’t overhear, he left Yoongi to watch the food cooking and asked that they step out onto the balcony with him.

“This is a gorgeous view of the city, Seokjin!” Y/n’s dad exclaimed when they stepped out on the balcony and got a look at the full cityscape skyline as the sun was setting behind the buildings and Seoul was beginning to light up.

“Thank you. I wanted to speak with you both for a moment if you don’t mind. I’ve been thinking a lot since I came home from my trip, and I can’t imagine a second of my life without your amazing daughter in it. When I imagine buying a house, I imagine her picking art and photos to hang on the wall. When I think of having my own children, I see her playing with them and helping them to grow well. And when I close my eyes and picture my bride as I raise the veil, it’s Y/n’s face that is there behind it. It would be the honor of my life to have your permission and blessing in marrying your daughter.”

Her parents looked at each other for just a moment before her mother pulled Seokjin into a tight hug and said, “Yes. Of course you have our blessing. There is no one else who can care for our daughter like you have.”

Y/n’s father pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to his wife before also hugging Seokjin and reaffirming his own joy at Seokjin’s request. Her mom was still dabbing tears away when they heard the commotion as Y/n, Taehyung and Jimin came bounding back into the apartment. At that, they slipped back in off the balcony and Seokjin resumed his cooking feeling like he was floating on clouds. He was one step closer to marrying Y/n.

After Y/n’s parents left, Seokjin and Yoongi spent several evenings holed up in Yoongi’s studio “working.” In reality, they were looking at rings online and trying to choose an optimal design for Y/n’s engagement ring. During one of those sessions, Yoongi sighed and looked at Seokjin.

“We are out of our depths here, Jin-hyung. We need help. We need to narrow down things she likes,” he said thoughtfully.

“What if we recruit Hobi and the maknaes to pick her brain? They can help us narrow things down. Plus, doesn’t Taehyung know a few jewelers that do custom work?”

Y/n was pleasantly oblivious to the massive amount of planning going on behind her back. She had been given a huge assignment at work and had focused the vast majority of her energy on that. Even so she had begun to feel a little more tired than usual and thought she might be getting sick. After nearly 2 weeks of constant exhaustion, she scheduled an appointment with her doctor. She honestly didn’t think it was anything more than stress but figured that it didn’t hurt to check. The doctor gave her news she had never expected. She was 12 weeks pregnant. She was a little surprised, but her cycles were super irregular, so a late period was a regular occurrence for her.

Y/n walked around in a bit of a fog that entire day and was trying to figure out how to tell Seokjin. She was a bit nervous, but she knew that he’d be excited. He’d spoken many times of how he wanted to have children later on, so there were no doubts in her mind that he’d be over the moon when he found out. Instead of telling him immediately, she decided to wait a few days. Their third anniversary was in four days, so she wanted to do something special to tell him as a gift. She had gotten him a necklace that had a small white gold footprint charm and had the back engraved with her due date. She also found a silly card that said, “What is a dad?” on the front, and said, “You. You are a dad” on the inside. She wrapped the necklace in a smaller box and placed it and the card in a box on top of a onesie that had been specially printed with an image of Baby RJ on the chest, then wrapped the larger box to give him at dinner that night.

At the same time that Y/n was planning her big surprise, Seokjin had enlisted his brothers for help with planning a surprise of his own. He had spoken with his brother and arranged to have their restaurant closed for the evening. Taehyung and Jimin helped by decorating the building. They put out enough candles so that the soft candlelight would be enough to light the entire restaurant. Hoseok had been the one to get the dark purple roses that Y/n loved for her welcome home party, and he had ordered 3 dozen in several different bouquets to be placed around with one red rose in a vase on their table. Yoongi picked up the ring two weeks ago and had locked it in his studio so that Y/n wouldn’t stumble on it in the apartment. Namjoon created a sweet playlist to play in the background during dinner, including several of the songs that had special meanings to them. Jungkook was the distraction while Seokjin was doing some of the more intense planning, such as sorting out the menu and cooking it himself, before rushing back to the apartment to get ready.

Seokjin wore a simple black suit with a white shirt underneath with the top couple of buttons undone. He wanted to look nice but didn’t want to be dressed over the top because he was afraid she would realize what was happening if he opted for a tuxedo or something more formal. His dark hair was parted to the side and swept so that his forehead was showing. The last thing he did was tuck the ring box into his pocket before walking out to the living room to wait.

They had gotten ready in separate rooms and kept their outfits a secret. Y/n had gotten ready in Taehyung’s room and he had done her hair for her. She wore a knee length red dress made of a fabric that was soft to the touch, but gave the illusion that there was glitter there, so it shimmered when the light hit it. The sweetheart neckline showed just a touch of cleavage but not too much. Taehyung had curled her hair into large ringlets that he pinned slightly out of her face on the left side and tucked a small red flower barrette just behind her ear. She had done her makeup simple, but with dark red lipstick to match the shade of the dress. Once she had slipped into black heels and grabbed her surprise gift for Seokjin, she met him in the living room. The awe on his face when she walked into the room would be etched into her memory for a very long time.

“Wow,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful. I’m such a lucky man.”

Once they arrived at the restaurant, Seokjin walked her in and sat her at their table. He explained that they had the entire place to themselves before stepping into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on their meal and plate it. When he brought the plates out, she thanked him and commented on his gorgeous plating. They ate as they talked and laughed together. They both felt a bit nervous but hid it well from the other. When Seokjin took their dinner plates into the kitchen, Y/n placed the gift box she’d brought on the table at Seokjin’s chair. When he returned from the kitchen, the first song they’d ever danced to began playing over the speakers, and Seokjin asked Y/n to dance. They slow danced in the empty dining room in candlelight, and when the song finished, Seokjin held her there for a moment before sinking to one knee.

“I realized several weeks ago that you are the breath in my lungs, the joy in my laughter, the beauty in my life, and the love in my heart. I don’t want to live another second without you. Be my wife? Please?”

She teared up and just nodded her head instead of trying to speak. He pulled a box out of his jacket with a gorgeous ring. It had several diamonds in the middle of the setting shaped to be like a rose with a tiny pearl in the middle. After sliding the ring on her finger, he stood up and hugged her tightly to him.

“We’re getting married,” he whispered before kissing her, smiling happily into the kiss.

“Yes, we are,” she giggled. “Now, time for your big surprise.”

Y/n lead Seokjin over to his seat and handed him the box. She pulled her chair over to sit beside him so she would have a better view of his face when he opened it. He slowly pulled the wrapping paper off the box and opened the lid. He opened the card first and read it twice before he realized what it meant.

“You…you’re pregnant?” he asked softly. She nodded in response, then had him open the smaller box. He gasped aloud when he saw the tiny date engraved on the charm, then giggled like a fool when he saw the onesie.

“We’re having a baby,” he said, in awe as he looked at her abdomen. He gently raised his hand to run his fingertips across her tummy then looked up at her and smiled with tears in his eyes. “I’m so happy. This is the most incredible gift you could ever have given me.”

After working together to clean up the kitchen, gather up all of Hoseok’s many roses, and blowing out all the candles, they drove back to the apartment. When they walked in, they found all six of the members waiting on them in the living room.

“So, have a good date?” Jungkook asked mischievously.

“Yes, we did, Baby Bunny. And we have some news,” Y/n teased with a smile.

“She said yes!” Seokjin cheered.

The boys all burst into smiles and congratulations immediately. “That’s not all the news, guys,” Y/n giggled.

“I hope you are all ready to be uncles,” Seokjin asked. “Because we’re having a baby!”

The room exploded into laughter and cheers, followed by a bit of bickering over who was going to be the favorite uncle.

“So, I’m the obvious choice for the godfather, right?” Jungkook claimed, starting a whole round of bickering that finally ended with them deciding that the only fair way to decide was paper, rock, scissors. Y/n couldn’t hold in her laughter at their silliness, but in the end, they were her family, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#bts #bts fic #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts imagination #kim seokjin #bts kim seokjin #BTS jin #bts jin imagine #bts jin fanfic #bts jin angst #hold on #bts scenarios

29 notes · View notes

thefieryeclipse · 5 years ago

Text

Tongues of Fire

This is my WIP post for the October WIP Weekly event @alexprompts ^.^

“Tongues of Fire”

“No one will believe me.” “Us. No one will believe us.”

_____________________________________________

What if you had lived another lifetime in the span of a day? What if it was all a dream? What if nobody understood what you'd been through, except the one person you should hate most in the world...?

The future is precarious. A secret network of superhuman abilities has been revealed. People are disappearing but nobody seems to notice. In the wake of a shared five year nightmare, Peter Petrelli and Sylar are hunted, considered far too dangerous to be free. Cast out by everyone they used to know, together the two vigilantes must navigate a brave new world that not only condemns the depth of their power, but of their bond as well.

_______________________________________________

This is a post-series fanfiction of the wonderful TV series “Heroes” (2006-2010), created by Tim Kring and aired on NBC. The story is my take on Volume 6 “Brave New World”, the build up to Heroes Reborn, focusing on Peter Petrelli and Sylar and their relationship after the events of the series finale.

If you haven’t watched the show (and you really should, it’s great!), it revolves around ordinary people with extraordinary abilities: a mismatched group of people from all over the world connected by the sudden manifestation of superpowers that they must keep hidden. This show did superheroes before the MCU made it cool again - they don’t wear capes and they don’t have secret identities: think a real-world ensemble character drama but with superpowers thrown in X)

TONGUES OF FIRE - Read here

Please check out my WIP: three years in, currently 360k+ words and 35+ chapters deep.

Rating: M. Action, violence, sci-fi, danger, post-series, forbidden love, m/m, lgbtqa+, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, save the future save the world. (I’ll expand more on the tags and themes below)

TRAILER:

youtube

Please keep reading for character descriptions, story context, themes/genres, gifs, a moodboard, more artwork and warnings

GENRES/THEMES/TAGS:

Superpowers

On the run

Sci-fi

Slow burn

End of the world (save the future, save the world...)

Betrayal/heartbreak

Forbidden love

M/M, LGBTQA+

Acceptance and forgiveness

Hurt/comfort

Angst

Whump

Action

Danger

Violence (think broken bones, cuts, gunshots, burns - however some characters have superhuman healing so this isn’t always as permanent as it sounds...)

Grand acts of heroism

Former-enemies to friends to lovers

There are happy and heartwarming parts in here too, don’t worry X)

CHARACTERS:

As Heroes is an ensemble show there are a lot of characters featured in this WIP, but even if you haven’t watched the show hopefully you shouldn’t get lost in the context of the story X) Because this post would be even longer otherwise, I’ll just highlight the central two characters here:

Peter Petrelli

Stubborn, caring and compassionate, Peter will never see anyone in need and not help them. He is driven by a constant desire to make a difference to the world, and will rarely listen to reason. This reckless goodness has gotten him into trouble (and/or killed) many times in the past, but he will never give up. He’s not opposed to violence if pushed to it, and can certainly hold his own in a fight. However, usually he’s the mediator who tries to fight with love rather than war. His love language is touch, and he doesn’t have much sense of personal space, almost subconsciously touching others all the time to show his support and affection.

He invests 100% into everything he does, including his relationships with family, friends and loved ones. Sadly, he’s constantly overlooked, under-appreciated and walked over by almost everyone he has ever known. Despite this, Peter is kind and will always listen to his heart, even if it leads him into danger to save someone else who won't even thank him for it.

Without recounting the entire story of Heroes, let me just say that Peter has been put through the ringer more times than anyone should do and survive. He’s been bruised, shot, killed, betrayed, walked out on, arrested and lied to too many times, but somehow he’s still miraculously resilient in his worldview. He’s impulsive to a fault, leaps before he looks and due to this is no stranger to mistakes. His biggest weakness is his own perceived inadequacy - he thinks he’ll never be good enough. He keeps mostly to himself, despite his golden heart that longs for reciprocation of the love that he gives to others so freely, and tends to work quietly from the sidelines rather than seek appreciation for his efforts.

Ability: Empathic Mimicry.

Peter is an “empath”. His extreme empathy allows him to not only understand and care deeply for other people, but to absorb the abilities of other “evos” (evolved humans) simply by being close to them.

This original ability, however, was stolen from him by his father. Later Peter acquired a synthetic version that isn’t as strong. He can still absorb other evos’ powers through physical touch, but can only hold onto one at a time. He still longs for his true ability although, naturally, he keeps this pain to himself rather than burden others with it.

Sylar

Intelligent, immortal, arguably the most powerful evo on Earth, Sylar has made himself a lot of enemies over the years. Formerly known as Gabriel Gray, his superhuman ability (knowing how things work) and insatiable hunger for more turned him into a killer: slicing open the skulls of people with abilities to access their brains and, therefore, their powers. Until recently he had never had a friend, never known trust, and all he had was the urge to add to his ever-growing collection of superpowers in order to make himself feel “special”. Sylar has killed a countless number of people, evaded capture multiple times, and tried to reign himself in more than once, although nobody ever listened when he begged them for help, until Peter.

Sylar is sarcastic, witty and delights in being a downright asshole at times. Secretly, though, he’s a sensitive and remorse-ridden man, desperate to belong anywhere and to anyone who will accept him for who he is. He has been tricked and manipulated many times due to this vulnerability, which only made him more angry, wounded and violent. His ability comes with a “Hunger”, like a voice inside that “makes” him commit heinous acts. This hunger tends to come and go, however, and is more likely a manifestation of his own mind that gives him something else to blame and hide behind. Though there’s no doubt that he is, at least in part, a victim of a power he had no choice in manifesting.

By the series finale of Heroes, Sylar has finally tackled the painful journey to redemption. Truly repentative for what he’s done, and wanting to be a better person, Sylar is ready to face the world and do good this time, hopefully making amends along the way. Peter’s trust in him is his anchor, and as long as Sylar finally has someone who believes in him then he’ll keep struggling with his demons to be better, and hopefully, in time, become a hero too.

Ability: Intuitive Aptitude

Sylar can understand how things work. His power is based in empathy, like Peter’s, except he collects abilities by looking at the brains of other super humans and assuming them for himself. By the start of “Tongues of Fire” he has a lot of powers, perhaps too many to put here? The full list is on his wiki page: https://heroeswiki.com/Sylar, but basically he’s like a swiss army knife of superhuman abilities X)

CONTEXT (this is real Heroes canon):

Over the past few years Peter and Sylar have been enemies. The Hero and the Villain, like Batman and Joker or Sherlock and Moriarty, they were each other’s equal and nemesis. They faced off many times and have both wounded and killed each other in the past (thanks to the power of regeneration these deaths weren’t permanent). There have been many complicated and intense conflicts in their story, including believing they were brothers for a time; Sylar murdering Peter’s beloved older brother Nathan; and Peter nailing Sylar to a table and trying to erase his mind (seriously, watch the show, there’s too much to capture here!). Also did I mention the insane chemistry and UST between them...?

(Yes, that’s a real scene from Heroes!)

At the end of the series, Sylar was riddled by guilt and the fear that he would die alone, unloved forever. So he turned himself over to a telepath and begged him to block Sylar’s mental access to his abilities so he could stop killing, and maybe have a chance at finally finding a human connection. The telepath, Matt Parkman, tricked him and instead locked Sylar’s consciousness in a mental prison of isolation where each hour in reality is a year he’s lived there in sole torment. Peter found out and, despite their hate-fuelled past, impulsively followed Sylar into his mind to rescue him.

It didn’t work. Instead of being able to pull Sylar out with him, Peter got trapped in the nightmare as well. For five years they were held prisoner in a dead, empty city, with nothing but each other and a hell of a lot of baggage to work though. And eventually, after years of remorse and loneliness and depending on each other to stay sane, Peter forgave Sylar, accepting him as the changed man he’d become. The nightmare shattered and they awoke back in reality, where only 5 hours had passed on the outside, but to them it had been years. Together, united now, Peter and Sylar set out to save the world side by side.

Nobody knows about the other life they lived through together aside from Matt Parkman the telepath, and even he doesn’t believe them. After all, who would believe these two mortal enemies took a nap together and suddenly woke up finishing each other’s sentences, unashamedly defending, trusting and touching someone they’d despised just a few hours ago?

So now they’re faced not only with a world where abilities are in the open; but where their shared forgiveness, trust and friendship is discounted by everyone who knows Sylar only as a monster, and Peter as a heartless traitor who betrayed his late brother by choosing Nathan’s killer over them.

And this is where “Tongues of Fire” begins...

(There are more illustrations from the story available in My Gallery on Ao3)

WARNINGS:

I guess the biggest warning would be for violence. This is canon-typical violence, so if you've watched Heroes it shouldn't be anything you can't handle. And if you've not watched Heroes then imagine the amount of violence that could be aired on a network TV show in 2006-2010.

One surgical scene includes exposed organs. It’s quite graphic, but the patient is participating willingly and eagerly, and the “surgery” is done upon request, as a good thing.

Later on there's restrainment and distressing interrogation of prisoners.

Adult content and sexual scenes, but I wouldn't necessarily call them “explicit”. The focus is always on the emotional aspect more than graphic descriptions of characters’ anatomy.

And I guess that’s it from me for now! Hope you check out the story, and please don’t be shy to get in touch about it in any way, shape or form ^.^

(I don’t take credit for any gifs, they’re gorgeous but not mine. The illustrations are mine, though)

20 notes · View notes

serpienten · 6 years ago

Text

the one (i / iii)

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N is in love with Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes is not in love with Y/N.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Phew, this is the longest thing I ever posted and it took me so freaking long I can’t even tell you. This is part one of a three part mini-series, so let me know what your thoughts are on this one. Feedback is always very appreciated. Anyways, this one is for @irndad because she’s the awesomest of the awesomest and I’m really really happy everytime I get to talk to her. I hope you like this lilah, angel <3

PART II // PART III // PLAYLIST

She thinks he’s perfect.

In her eyes, Bucky Barnes is complete and utter perfection, with all his flaws and all his mistakes and all the baggage and everything about him he looks at with disgust in his eyes. To her, he’s it. He’s the one she wants to wake up next to in the morning, with sun filtering through the curtains and her head on his chest, or a soft, chilly breeze drifting in from the outside that makes being tucked into his side, strong, muscled arms tightly wrapped around her feel even more like home. He’s the one she wants to hug from behind when he makes coffee in the morning, face pressed into the skin between his shoulder blades. He’s the one with whom she wants to watch silly comedies or awful horror movies or the documentaries he likes so much. He’s the one she wants to see smile, the one she wants to hear laugh so hard it makes his eyes water and belly ache of happiness, the one she wants to hear giggle like a little school child and the one she wants to be happy.

God, she wants to make him happy.

She’d tear herself apart and bring him the world if that’s what it took. She’d do anything for him to just be happy because if anyone deserves peace and order and a mind at ease, it’s Bucky. Bucky, who’s the most wonderful and considerate and brave and caring person she’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s smart, too, insanely clever and witty and occasionally a real jerk – but, alright, who wouldn’t brag about grades like that? – but he makes up for it by helping her study for things that don’t come as easily to her.

He even makes tea for her and Bucky hates tea. Hates the taste and the blandness of it without a, even for him, concerning amount of sugar. But when he sits down with her, in their cute, little and very efficient kitchen to study, he still pours himself a cup. It makes her smile every time and sometimes Bucky catches it and blushes, a sheepish smile twisting his lips before he clears his throat and begins to quiz her about things that make her head spin due to their complexity.

She adores and cherishes and appreciates every single piece of him, even the broken, darker, heavier ones. Y/N always notices when his self-control starts to dwindle when his mind starts to spiral out of control and she always tries to help. Even when he pushes her away. Over time she’s learned to give him his space when he’s in a state like that, but she still sometimes can’t help but knock on the door of his room that he locks behind him when he comes home to see if he’s okay.

She doesn’t always get an answer, but it always calms her heart when she does.

And if she doesn’t see him during those times, she certainly hears him.

The walls aren’t the thickest and his room is right next to hers and when he thrashes in his bed in the middle of the night and wakes up with strangled, pained noises leaving his mouth in between sharp exhales, she hears everything. She’s lost count how many times she’d blindly rushed to his door only to find it still locked and him out of reach from her. Her heart had cracked and splintered every single time her hands and forehead had pressed against the cool, smooth wood, unable to bear the thought that he was alone in there with his demons. Gladly, though, he always seems to find his way back to her and somehow, he always thinks he has to apologize for his emotions, lets her hug him and press little kisses to his temples and his forehead.

Y/N doesn’t mind his darkness.

Light wouldn’t shine so bright if there wasn’t darkness always lingering a few steps behind, catching up from time to time and then falling back behind again.

God, he’s it for her.

Keys jingling in the lock of the front door make her snap out of her thoughts and back into reality. The door swings open with a creak they’d meant to fix ages ago but never did and the bundle of keys lands on the designated shelf. She turns around with a frown, brows creasing.

“Home so soon?”

She really is surprised to see him home. He’s away more often than not lately, skips movie nights and study sessions and dinners with her and sometimes when he cancels, telling her he’s running late at the library or whatever, he doesn’t come home at all. It’s not like she’s snooping or anything, not at all, but when she gets up at six in the morning and his shoes and bag are nowhere to be found and the smell of his usual coffee is notably missing, it’s sort of apparent.

And it’s not hard to guess who he’s with when he doesn’t come home either, he’s been with Natasha for close to five months now, but it’s certainly not as easy to accept. She has to, though. Because not accepting it means having to come clean about her feelings, risking everything, and she’d rather live with standing on the sidelines and being his friend than to not be with him at all.

Maybe that makes her selfish. Bucky deserves the truth, her honesty. But no matter how much he means to her and how her skin starts to tingle whenever he so much as brushes against her and how her chest bursts with longing for him, she’s not quite ready to break her own heart just yet.

When she turns, she finds Bucky setting down his bag and thumbing through the mail before he grins.

“Hey, roomie.”

“If you’d told me, I would’ve cooked,” she mumbles, propping up her chin on the cushioned backrest of their grey couch.

He scoffs. “Thank god I didn’t. Your cooking is terrible.”

Y/N lets out a sound of mock offence that earns her a teasing wink from Bucky.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He throws down the mess of envelopes, magazines and advertisements on their kitchen table, strides down into the living room and crouches down in front of her sitting form. “What we’re gonna do, is I make the popcorn, you pick the movies and we have one of our typical evenings,” a soft smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards as he speaks. “How ‘s that sound?”

There’s something off about that smile. Y/N doesn’t quite know what it is, but something is clearly different. She can’t place it so she pushes it to the back of her mind for now. Instead, she concentrates on the flutter in her chest at the realization that for the first time in so long, she’d get to spend time with him again. Like they used to before he’d started to inch away from her, bit by bit.

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, a smile blooming on her lips now as well.

“Sounds good,” she eventually answers. When Bucky gives her his signature million-dollar grin, Y/N actually feels like crying because of how beautiful he is. He’s beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet and not at all hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. For a split second, her smile falters and she’s thankful he doesn’t seem to notice.

Not twenty minutes later, they’re on the couch, legs tangled comfortably and a thick, fuzzy blanket thrown over the both of them. Carefully propped up between their legs is a bowl filled with warm, salty popcorn in which they reach rotatory.

It’s practically heaven to have him to herself again, heart singing at his close proximity. She wishes he were even closer so she could run her fingers through his hair, breathe in his scent, have it envelop her and feel the soothing, comfortable weight of his body against hers, but as per usual, that's a wish that wouldn't come into reality anytime soon. Or ever.

Y/N doesn’t really know Natasha, but what she knows, is that the red-head must be the luckiest woman on the planet.

Spending time with Bucky feels good after all that time away from him. Amazing, even. Everything almost feels normal again, normal like before Natasha had coiled her perfectly manicured red fingernails around his heart and pulled it away from Y/N. Well, not that it'd ever belonged to her in the first place, but her best friend had become distant nonetheless.

He smiles at her occasionally, when their fingers touch in the popcorn bowl or when she moves her legs and her knee bumps against his and it’s becoming hard to ignore that it looks forced. And it sort of puts a damper on her happiness to see the person making her happy, faking their own.

It’s hard to concentrate on whatever they’re watching after that realization comes to her. It leaves her stomach in knots that make her appetite vanish, so for the rest of the movie she’s staring absentmindedly at the TV and fidgets with the fringe of the blanket.

When the credits start to roll, she’s imagined about every scenario that could’ve made him unhappy with her. Maybe she was too clingy and that’s why Bucky had avoided spending time with her lately and had felt obligated to tonight. Or perhaps Natasha had cancelled their meetup tonight and he’d had nothing better to do. Or Bucky’s finally realized she’s not that interesting and fun to hang out with after all.

“Okay, what’s up,” Bucky’s looking at her, confusion evident but the smile is still on his lips when her gaze moves up to lock with his.

“I could ask you the same,” she says, defensively crossing her arms in front of her chest, pulling the blanket up higher in the process.

He’s silent for a moment before he grabs the empty bowl and sits up.

“What do you mean?”

Y/N watches him stand up and walk to the kitchen. She gets up as well and follows him, leans against the counter and watches him place the bowl in the sink.

“Do you have to ask?” she replies.

The muscles under his plaid shirt move when he sighs and puts his hands on the edge of the sink to lean against it. The want to put her hands on his shoulders and to ease the tension that’s flowing off of his hunched form in waves flits through her mind for a moment and makes her arms wound tighter around her chest.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you, Bucky. You know that,” she continues, “So if I did something that upset you, just kno-”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Y/N you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then talk to me,” she pleads, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky turns around to face her and when he does, the forced smile is gone, replaced by, what she thinks is even worse, an expression of guilt and sadness. He looks at her like he’s about to say something he’s going to regret, like he’s about to say something that’s not only going to break her heart, but also his.

“Natalia and I have been talking about moving in with each other,” he finally confesses and if there was another noise in the room aside from the quiet noise emanating from the television, she’s sure she would’ve missed it.

And despite their faintness, the twelve words boom around her head like he just screamed them at her.

“You’re moving out?” she asks breathlessly, frozen in place. She’s looking at him like a deer caught in headlights and she really does feel like she’s just been hit by an airplane car.

Y/N thinks she sees Bucky’s eyes glisten but she isn’t sure when he lowers his head.

“Yeah,” his reply comes out shorter and harsher than he intended and when he sees her eyes well up from the corner of his eye he fights the urge to reach out to her, comfort her. It’s not his place right now.

“O-okay,” she lightly tilts her head up and nods. She really feels like crying now, a sob bubbling its way up her chest that she’s now desperately trying to keep from tumbling out of her mouth. Because now he’s really not hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. Soon, he wouldn’t be hers to find anything at all. They’ll go from roommates and best friends to best friends and then to friends and then to just acquaintances. She’s sure of it. And it breaks her heart to know that he’ll always be more to her than she’s ever been to him.

She takes a deep breath.

“It’s getting really late, I should... I should really...” she feels his gaze on her again when she looks away, feels it burning holes into the material of her sweater.

Y/N shakes her head. There’s enough pressure on her chest to bring her to the brink of a panic attack and all she’s left to do is flee. “I’m sorry.”

She quickly turns around and is gone before Bucky has a chance to speak.

1K notes · View notes