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elliesfern · 3 years ago

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bird cage - chapter five

summary - you’re on the run after escaping the cult you grew up in, the Seraphites. you run into a woman who completely changes your course and are unsure whether or not she will let you live.

paring - fem reader x ellie. both characters are in their 20s.

warnings - violence, weapons, guns, blood, injury, burns, aggressive language, kidnapping, animal death, mention of hanging, nsfw. 18+ only.

a/n - thank you guys for all the kind comments. <3 i know my chapters are short, a little far apart. i’m going through a tough time atm, but this is really keeping me going. love you all.

PS. i have a pet rabbit so writing this really pained me. you’ll see why.

ao3 link - https://archiveofourown.org/works/38383471/chapters/96954951

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‘Petrichor - the pleasant smell that accompanies rain after warm weather.’

Potentially one of your favourite beauties this earth had to offer, which was ironic because of how much you also loved the sun. You allowed your chest to rise as you deeply inhaled, the scent filling your nose and you hummed in delight.

“I love the smell of rain.” You announced. Ellie’s hair was covered in tiny droplets of water and the combination of that with the rain covered foliage ahead of you would’ve made for a perfect painting. You were never a painter, but you had a friend at home that was incredible at it. You remembered her painting roses all over your arms one time and you had just about collapsed feeling her warm breath so close to your skin.

“Are you hungry?” Ellie asked.

“Mhmm.” You hummed.

“I was thinking we could stop soon and hunt. I’ve been in this area before and rabbits tend to hang around.” Your stomach churned at the mention of it.

“Sounds good.”

You and Ellie stopped by a gravel path and allowed Shimmer to graze on the overgrown grass. The two of you continued on foot, down the rocky trail and further into the dewy woods.

“You know, i’m pretty good with my bow. If you really wanted to, you could let me hunt.” You stated matter-of-factly and Ellie let out a loud laugh.

“You know what, I do really want that.” Ellie spoke in a mocking tone.

“Really?” You asked.

“Are you stupid? Of course not.” She stated bluntly and you felt hurt for a moment. You realised maybe you weren’t the absolute best at detecting sarcasm or social cues and you blamed that on how sheltered your life had been before then. And to be fair, you weren’t even going to try anything. As much as you loved to fantasise about striking Ellie in the leg and sprinting away, you genuinely just missed your bow and the rush it gave you.

Ellie crouched low to the ground and without choice you were dragged down too. She held her gun close to her and waited for her unsuspecting victim to hop by. The world became a silent wonderland, aside from the pitter-patter of rain drops falling onto nearby rocks. A loud bang suddenly came from the weapon in Ellie’s hand and her body jolted back slightly.

“Fuck. I missed.” She cursed, and your heart felt like it had just dropped two inches in your chest. You had gone your whole life without being so up close to a gun and it was still completely unfamiliar territory.

“That gave me a fright.”

“Oh, i’m sorry. Do you need some ear muffs, baby?” Ellie spoke, and that time you understood loud and clear that she was making fun of you, despite never even having heard of these so called ‘ear muffs’, but you could make an educated guess.

“The gun’s scaring off the rabbits.” She sighed. You looked at her with raised eyebrows and she rolled her eyes in defeat.

“Fine, show me what you’ve got then.” She said, slinging your backpack off from over her shoulder and getting out your bow. “But i’m gonna have my gun ri-“

“Yeah. Right there. You’ll shoot me if I try anything. I got it.” You interrupted and she just glared at you with disapproval. She carefully untied your wrists and placed the rope in the back pocket of her pants. You had to give them a small wriggle and to say it was painless would be a lie, but you knew you couldn’t pass up this opportunity. She handed you your bow and an immense amount of anxiety overwhelmed you. The pressure of having to get it right was beaming down on you, hard. Not only that though, the proximity in which you were to freedom was literally in the palm of your hands. All you had to do was shoot. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

You spotted a small brown rabbit emerge from a burrow in the budding grass and pulled the string back in preparation. Your wrists were so stiff from being in the same position for so long that the movement felt like dried clay being pulled apart and cracking. With the release of a string, a ‘pop’ sound was heard and the rabbit collapsed to the ground.

“Damn.” Ellie said.

“Impressed?” You smirked, and the girl just shrugged her shoulders.

“Alright, give me your arms.” Ellie demanded, motioning at you.

“Really?” You whined, but already had your wrists up in front of her because you knew you had pushed the limits for the day. You watched as her fingers danced together in a choreographed manner to tie the rope as if she had been doing it her whole life. Her hands appeared worn and tough and her veins were elevated through her skin.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. You had found shelter from the wet weather under a pavilion, covering an old chipped wooden bench, which appeared to have been at a playground where Ellie said children would play together in the old world. You had watched as Ellie lit a fire, prepared and cooked the rabbit for both of you, and it proved pretty educational considering she was much slicker at it than you were. The two of you continued on with Shimmer until the already grey sky turned to dusk and the rain started to fall more aggressively than earlier.

You spotted the nearest abandoned house and the two of you checked it out. Well, Ellie did. You were just, there. It was all clear so the woman guided you into the bedroom and sat you down on the floor.

You glanced up at Ellie and to your surprise her jacket was being slid off her shoulders and chucked on the old stained carpet, followed by her short sleeve shirt, until she was left in nothing but her pants and a grey sports bra. You darted your eyes away at what felt like lightening speed and blinked a few times as if to try and get the image out of your head. Suddenly the floor was the most interesting thing you had ever seen and you absolutely refused to look anywhere but down, but out of the corner of your eye you could tell Ellie was removing her canvas shoes and cargo pants. You felt embarrassment flood into your cheeks and you bit down on your lip as a distraction.

“You’re looking a little flustered there.” Ellie said, followed by a low chuckle. It was a statement but almost felt like she was questioning you, like she wanted you to confess the panicked feeling in your gut.

“What are you doing?” You asked, still refusing to make any kind of eye contact with her.

“Taking my wet clothes off. You’ll get hypothermia if you keep yours on and I wouldn’t recommend it.” She spoke, in a completely serious tone, while hanging her clothes up over the end of the bed frame.

“I can’t exactly do that.” You scrunched your mouth together and held your wrists up into her vision. You looked up at her for the first time and felt your breathing involuntarily come to a holt. Ellie was toned and strong, and her skin was pale and had dustings of freckles all over just like on her nose. It was the first time you had gotten a proper look at her tattoo too, and you hadn’t expected it to snake all the way up her forearm. It appeared to be of a moth and some kind of foliage, maybe ferns, and you couldn’t help but feel pleased with that choice.

“I’ll have to help you then.” Ellie offered, and your head started to spin with panic. You had spent your whole life thus far being taught the importance of being modest, and only a very few handful of times had you been exposed to another woman’s figure that way, let alone anyone else seeing your own.

“Unless you wanna be freezing all night?” All you could do was look up at the girl now standing over you with wide eyes and you gave her a small nod in agreement.

She held her hand out and you lifted your attached hands to meet hers, and lifted you into a standing position with one swift motion. You stood facing her and you thought that that had probably been the closest you had gotten to her face to face this entire time. You noticed that aside from the smell of someone who hadn’t washed in a while, she smelt like wood chips and ash, and you thought it suited her.

She untied the rope around you, but slower this time. Slower than usual. She was keeping her dilated eyes locked onto yours as if she was talking to you without speaking. If you had to guess, you thought she might’ve been saying ‘I’m trusting you. Don’t fuck this up’, and you understood. She took a few steps back and continued watching you, and an uncomfortable silence and stillness filled the room.

You considered asking her to turn around as Ellie’s single pair of eyes suddenly felt like you were standing in front of a whole village of people, but knew you didn’t have an option. You slid your cord jacket off both your arms and Ellie held her hand out to take it from you. You managed to kick off both your boots using the balls of your feet, and reached down to your pants, undoing the metal button. Keeping your eyes purposefully off to the side of the woman in front of you, you tugged your pants and they fell down your legs, revealing your black briefs underneath. You quickly pulled your shirt up over your head to get it over with and as your head came back through the other side, you caught Ellie’s eyes break from yours and wander down your body.

“I’ll take those.” Ellie said, clearing her throat before speaking and turning to hang up your soaked clothes. Your breath hitched for a second and the fear you felt around this women was now different, much like when she had touched your hair, but you couldn’t quite describe what it was. Nothing you particularly wanted to run from as your feet felt glued to the floor.

“Fuck.” Ellie snapped you out of your thoughts as she was rushing back over to you, holding the rope in hand and before you even had time to react, she was tying your wrists together again. With everything happening you had both forgotten about it and you almost found the women’s lack of her usual sharpness entertaining. But not yours. Yours wasn’t entertaining in the slightest. She tied the other rope again to the bottom of the bed frame.

“I’ll change your bandages in the morning.” You nodded.

It was working. You knew it then. Was she trusting you? Was she weakening? Was she feeling bad for you? You wished you could read that guarded brain of hers and figure out what she was thinking. You knew you couldn’t stop then. You couldn’t try and run just yet. You knew you had to push on, no matter how hard and complicated it felt. Just for a little while longer.

Ellie slumped down on the floor close by, but not too close. She was always keeping her distance, but being near enough to keep an eye on you.

“How long have you been by yourself?” You asked.

“A little over two weeks. You?”

“I don’t even know. Months.”

“No wonder you smell so bad.” Ellie teased.

“Heeeey!” You said, drawing out the word for impact. “Have you smelt yourself?” You retaliated. The two of you laughed a little before a silence draped over you.

“Why did you leave your home?”

“I don’t think you’re the one who’s meant to be asking questions here.” She said, and you took note of how much her tone had lightened since your first encounter.

“I, uh, just had to get away for a while. I was stressed.”

“So, you’re telling me that almost getting murdered by demons everyday is better than whatever’s going on at home?” You raised your eyebrows and Ellie let out a warm chuckle. You felt pride well up in your tummy for making her laugh.

“Yup.” She nodded at you. “Um, there was a lot of things going on…but, I broke up with someone, and they took it pretty hard and I just needed some space. That’s all really.” You were completely taken aback but you found her sharing with you incredibly endearing.

“Damn. How long were you with him?”

“Uh.” Ellie rubbed at the back of her neck uncomfortably.

“Her. Cat’s a girl. We were together for like two years.”

“Oh, sorry-“ You stuttered.

“It’s fine.” Ellie looked down and started to fiddle with her knife.

“No, I am really sorry that you’re going through that.” You spoke. Ellie suddenly erupted in a loud scoff.

“Dude, I literally have you here kidnapped, tied to a fucking bed frame, why the fuck are you apologising to me?” You were completely speechless, but she was right. You hadn’t even thought twice about it and had actually felt a shred of genuine sympathy for this girl. What the hell?

“I don’t know.” You said honestly.

Before drifting to sleep that night, your mind circulated around thoughts of Ellie. You had never met someone who openly admitted to liking a woman like that. You didn’t even know that that was allowed to be talked about out loud.

When you were around seven, a man in your village was caught with another man, and as punishment they were hung in front of everyone. Including you. You’ll never get the haunting image out of your head as one of them sobbed, while the other burned blue and lifeless. After that, you understood. That was that. You were to grow up and marry a man, or you were to die. And that was just something you had to accept.

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlouii #fanfic #ellie x reader #bird cage #chapter five

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

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santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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daisukissed · 5 years ago

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❧ pairings: karasuno x gn!reader, nekoma x gn!reader, seijoh x gn!reader

❧ synopsis: living in the same house with the boys for content sounds cool and all until you realized just how tiring it could be

❧ genre: headcanons, fluff, crack

❧ warnings: cursing, questionable thirst comments

Karasuno High

- okay first off LET'S TALK ABOUT THE INTERIOR OF THIS HOUSE

- it's a fucking mess

- none of the furnitures match???

- like you can see tsukki's huge godzilla statue by the front door and beside it could be asahi's peonies or something

- y'all get roasted by fans because of your taste but it's also what makes you special than the other houses yknow *cough* nekoma *cough*

- being rich tiktok stars and all, of course you own a jacuzzi

- which is a HUGE mistake cause kageyama drowned hinata once during a live

- you tried to help i swear but it's kinda hard when you have to record everything at the same time :>

- content >>>> anything

- it doesn't help the fact that nishinoya and tanaka are just there ogling at the sight of you and kiyoko in a swimsuit

- no one really cleans it now so it's left there to rot smh

- honestly y'all would be living off of takeouts if it weren't for suga and the girls

- they're in charge of cooking while daichi and asahi does the financial stuff for the house

- the others just kinda stay there ig,,,

- videos mostly consists of pranks and vlogs

- something like the vlog squad?

- asahi and hinata being the no.1 victim cause they always fall for it

- y'all made asahi mad once because you went too far

- ASAHI.

- it's a cursed subject in the house now and no one dares to talk about it

- you guys also went to disneyland for a vlog once and almost left kageyama behind skhcdijcid

- you and the others were literally halfway home until you read one of the comments

- "where's kageyama????"

- daichi DRIFTED the fuck out of the car

- the whole team had to buy him a carton of milk each to compensate

Nekoma High

- most of you guys started from twitch

- everyone was literally minding their own business and all, until kuroo rushes in and goes:

- "let's make a streamers house!!!!"

- y'all had some decent followings but you guys just didn't reach that hypehouse level y'know??

- until you made a tiktok account and blew up immediately, the others joining the bandwagon

- the amount of shippers you guys have are insane

- kuroo did the 'kissing my bestfriend' trend on you once and they went NUTS

- "what happened to kenma???? :("

- "did lev and y/n break up????? ??"

- "yamamoto's punching the air rn"

- lit rally a harem luv xx

- you still haven't forgiven kuroo 'til this day

- but hey at least y'all got clout

- not even a surprise but you guys have mad beef with karasuno

- mainly friendly rivalry though, we stan an uncontroversial household <3

- there's a series going on rn called "karasuno vs nekoma" and it's really just duets of you guys throwing random insults at each other

- there's even a special episode where karasuno visited your house and played games with you!!!

- playing overcooked does not end well when kuroo and daichi's always at each other's neck

- honestly your followers are theirs too by now

- your house is surprisingly super organized and clean, unlike karasuno's

- sure, lev may break some vases here and there but it's nothing to worry about when you got yaku and kuroo watching his every move

- if he does do some stupid shit though, all you really need to do is just lock him out of the house and boom, problem solved!!1!

- all in all, nekoma shares one (1) braincell and it's yours and kenma's

Aobajohsai High

- the Fuckboi ™ house

- the boys gained hype for being shirtless and using gray sweatpants

- i mean, you can't blame them when they have bodies that resemble greek gods

- but you really question some of your life choices when you read the comments

- "you think oikawa would let me swallow his kids if i ask nicely?"

- "iwaizumi's arms are getting so big pls i want him to smash my head to smithereens"

- "i'm tryna get y/n to break my neck into two but ig we just don't get what we want in life"

- MOVING ON

- you guys mainly do tiktok dance trends

- and by that i mean swaying your hips or doing body rolls

- you tried to teach them how to throw it back but they all end up looking like mf grasshoppers

- besides hanamaki tho, homie gets an A++

- okay, but amidst their fuckboy personas the boys actually care a lot about you

- sometimes you get more hate than the usual and it really decreases your self esteem

- oikawa's already replying to the comments with his shady ass. kunimi, matsukawa and kindaichi's by your side comforting you, iwaizumi and kyotani preparing to throw hands

- it was these moments when you're really thankful of them and would not replace them any other way

#haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #sugawara x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu fluff

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uchihasakurawrites · 4 years ago

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Until Next Time

Rating: T

Summary: When ghosts from the war come back to haunt Sakura, Sasuke's there to try his hand at warding them off. A story of comfort, growth, and realization. (Blank Period)

Word Count: 3,777

A/N: Long time, no see everyone! Thank you for your patience as I’ve worked through some writer’s block the past few months. I know many of you are waiting on the next chapter for A Lesson in Practicality, but I hope you’ll still enjoy this piece. Please let me know your thoughts if you have the time! Otherwise, thank you for taking some time to read my work. ^_^

Warning: This story contains depictions of panic attacks, PTSD flashbacks, and some alcohol abuse. Nothing too dark in here since it's mainly a comfort fic, but please be cautious if any of these topics are triggering for you.

Cross posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

____________________________________

Her day begins and ends the same way every other day the past year seemed to - with Sakura walking into the hospital with a confident spring to her step and a brightness in her eyes and dragging herself out (on the rare day she had the energy to pry herself from her desk) with antiseptic or blood or a mix of the two staining her hands and the lab coat she'd forgotten to peel off.

Tonight, Sakura consciously decides not to make the effort to drag herself out of the hospital. Leaving means she'll be roped into the birthday party Ino's been planning for Sai for months, and she doesn't quite have the energy to even shower, let alone paste a convincing smile on her lips.

She spares a glance at the old clock posted right above the chalkboard in her office as she shuffles in and locks the door behind her.

8:00PM.

Fourteen hours since Naruto shook her awake and thrust her straight into a day from hell.

It's still a little too early for anyone to come looking for her yet. Naruto will notice that she's not at the bar right when he arrives, but Hinata will patiently remind him of the shitshow that was today and reason that Sakura's still probably dealing with the aftermath. (In much less colorful terms, of course; Sakura's only heard her friend curse a handful of times, none of which were in front of Naruto.) That'll buy her about an hour before Ino starts making a fuss and sends Sai or Kiba out to Sakura's apartment.

If she's not there, they'll assume she's still at the hospital, and they won't come back until it's close to midnight. Not today. Not after seeing the hallways lined with burn victims pleading for someone to find their loved ones. Not after returning home and finding that the stench of charred skin and blood isn't so easy to wash out of their clothes.

Sakura didn't get to leave. Her role just changed from a kunoichi dispatched on a rescue mission to the de facto head of the hospital the moment she crossed the threshold.

She pulls the shades in hopes of convincing her friends that she isn't here if they do decide to come looking but stops short in front of the light switch. The migraine between her temples screams for her to turn the fluorescents off, but she doesn't trust her mind not to see death in the shadows of her office tonight.

She turns them off anyways.

It isn't until she's sitting criss-cross on her floor with her too-full bookshelf at her back and a bottle of sake in her hand that Sakura realizes her hands are trembling. A splash of sake makes its way onto her carpet instead of into her cup, and she curses because it's good sake - the expensive kind that Tsunade bought her a case of after the war and no no no.

She cuts that thought there because violent memories of the war, or rather the days immediately following the war, have been intruding into her mind all day and she just can't.

A case or so of sake should knock her and those thoughts right out (or so she hopes). Years of honing her skills as a medic nin have given her a certain resistance to toxins, including alcohol, and it's why she doesn't bother to drink most of the time; social drinking is more of a waste of money than anything else. She figures that's precisely why her mentor gave her an entire case as a gift.

It isn't until she's two bottles in and there's a buzzed lightness to her body that she realizes she's crying.

Her breath seems to come faster and faster, shallower and shallower, and she wonders if the buzz and creeping, cold numbness in her fingers is because of the alcohol or the lack of oxygen. She's shivering, muscles tensed to the point of pain, but she blames it on the chill of the hospital.

Another glass will knock the cold right out. At least, that's what Tsunade used to say when she drank away the ghosts that forced themselves a little too close to the front of her mind.

It's a few glasses later that Sakura starts seeing the eyes of the dead staring back at her from the shadows at the edges of her office. She's back on the battlefield, the same smell of burnt skin and the mournful cries of shinobi finally processing the deaths of their comrades hanging in the air. She's been healing for days, but she continues to push. The fighting may be over but there are still identities to confirm, survivors to heal, and families to be notified.

Sakura knew that death was part of her job description from her days in the Academy; protecting the interests of the village often required it. Tsunade had let her figure out that the same was true of her job as a medic on her own, when she lost her first patient at fifteen. She'd learned to put the deaths she dealt with in a neat little box which she deadbolted and tossed on a shelf in the deepest recess of her mind she could find.

But death was a uniquely stubborn bastard that didn't always like to stay in that box.

She'd been awake for the full three days the war had drawn on, but the medical corps was tasked with the brunt of combing through the miles upon miles of dead shinobi for another forty-eight hours or so. They'd had help, but medics were the ones needed throughout to organize, heal, or in the worst possible cases (which Sakura and Shizune handled) show mercy to the shinobi who were alive but long past the point of saving.

Sakura nearly vomits and washes the bile down with more sake. One glass. Another.

The quiet tears have turned into sobs that scratch at her throat and squeeze her lungs. Her nails cut thin crescent moons into her forearms, and her shoulders hunch as if she can ward off the prying eyes. Sakura barely has the presence of mind to activate the silencing seal in her office - the one she keeps on hand when discussing particularly sensitive cases - before her sobs grow into half screams. She can't get enough air to manage much more than a hoarse cry, but if she can just drink fast enough, it shouldn't matter.

And so she cracks open another bottle and brings it directly to her lips, trying to focus on the burn of the alcohol on her throat and Naruto's bright smile reassuring her that everything would be fine when he first found her clutching a bottle of sake in the corner of her disaster of a bedroom.

What she doesn't count on is the alcohol making it increasingly difficult to distinguish reality from the memories that have escaped from her mind and seared themselves into the darkness around her. They become more real, more tangible, until she swears she can hear the fresh widow of a shinobi from Cloud shouting about how Sakura hadn't done enough. Another voice joins until there's a chorus telling her exactly what she feared most:

There shouldn't have been so many casualties. She should have been able to do more.

She was weak.

Her tears stop for a moment when she looks up and sees Sasuke standing in the doorway. For a fraction of a second, she almost feels relieved and tries to move to go to him, but she's reminded none of this is real, and she can't be sure which Sasuke this is. Given her current state of mind, it's probably the one who haunted her nightmares for months after the bridge and still longer after his genjutsu in the war. She takes a swig from the bottle she clenches in her fist and curls back into herself.

Sasuke's repeated calls of her name fall on deaf ears.

For his part, Sasuke is at a loss. He's never seen Sakura like this (and he'd witnessed her tears firsthand on many occasions as genin). Sure, she's always worn her heart on her sleeve and been far too open with her emotions by standard shinobi rules, but she has never seemed so broken.

Looking at the scratch marks that trail down her forearms and the far too many empty bottles of sake for someone of her stature littered on the carpet, Sasuke realizes he doesn't know this woman - and in retrospect, he never should have assumed otherwise.

From her confessions both during the war and when he made the decision to leave her behind yet again, Sasuke knows she's still fiercely loyal and has a light bright enough to forgive and heal anything it touches without her needing to make the conscious choice to do so. Her skills as a shinobi have grown to the point that she could give him a challenge if they were to spar, and he's seen her heal an entire battlefield for days on end while still fighting on the front lines.

She's become more than worthy of the title of the "New Sannin," as the original Team 7 has now been christened, and she still loves him (unreasonably so in his opinion, but he's come to realize that maybe he doesn't want her to change her mind - even if he thinks it would be better for her in the long run). But that's all he knows, and he finds himself wanting to discover more of who Sakura is now.

He has years of absence and cruel actions to make up for, and far more growth beyond that to become someone who deserves the steadfast love she's always been ready to give him.

At the moment, however, he needs to get her to let go of the liquor bottle she clutches onto like a lifeline and refocus on the present. He's been trapped by his past more times than he'll ever admit, and though he hasn't had real comfort since his mother (and Sakura, he amends), he owes it to her to at least try.

Sasuke approaches her slowly, intentionally making his footsteps heavier so that she can hear him approach. Whatever nightmare she's trapped in - he confirmed it wasn't a genjutsu the moment he broke the lock on her door after an unnerving spike in her chakra - she hasn't seemed to notice he's actually here. He bites back the guilt that surfaces at the thought that he could be part of her nightmare, but that's something they can work through later.

He crouches down in front of her, taking a firm hold of the hand that clutches the bottle to try to coax it out of her grip. She jolts at the touch, peeking hesitantly up from her knees with red-rimmed eyes and a mix of tears and sweat coating her cheeks.

"Breathe, Sakura."

Her grip loosens as she meets his eyes. He sees uncertainty waver in her gaze as she hiccups in a short breath, but then the panic snaps back down and tightens her hold on the bottle yet again.

"I- I can't."

The words are stilted, as though forcing out those two words causes her physical pain. Sasuke, however, considers it a small win as it means Sakura's decided he's real. Her breathing is still far too fast, and he knows he needs to stabilize it before she's ready to explain what's happening.

It's awkward - both because Sasuke has never done this and the fact that he hasn't completely sorted through his feelings for his teammate - but he eventually pulls Sakura far enough away from the bookcase that he can shuffle in behind her. He secures his legs around her sides and arranges Sakura so that her back rests on his chest.

It's almost annoying just how snugly Sakura fits against him, her head tucked just below his chin. A part of his mind notes how her curves seem to melt into his frame only to be ruthlessly shoved down. There are priorities, and noting how the boyish (yet annoyingly charming) Sakura has clearly blossomed into a young woman is not one of them.

Where the Sakura from his memories smelled of strawberries and artificial sweetness, the woman in his arms tonight seems as though she's been doused in a pungent blend of antiseptic and ash.

"Breathe, Sakura."

Sasuke repeats Sakura's name to ground her as he starts regulating his own breath: six counts in through the nose, hold, eight counts out through the mouth. He's sure to exaggerate his breaths a bit so Sakura can feel the movement against her back. Hesitantly, his hand comes up to trail over the marks on her forearm. His hands have always been cold, so he figures the one he has left might be able to relieve some of the sting from her nails.

He makes a mental note to pick up some basic medical ninjutsu and doesn't bother to pretend it's just for field injuries.

It takes about ten minutes for Sakura's breathing to return mostly to normal. It still stutters every now and then, but she's matching Sasuke almost breath for breath. She doesn't move away from him, and Sasuke doesn't move to shift her.

As they sit in silence, save for their own breathing, Sasuke realizes he's put himself in a position where he needs to actually start the conversation. There's no bright chatter, no smile to coax him into talking. Again, he's at a loss.

It seems this new Sakura has retained a talent for doing this to him.

Annoying woman.

"Tell me about it."

Sakura immediately shakes her head, breath trembling yet again. Sasuke sighs and guesses he should have known she wasn't going to make this easy for him. He can't blame her. If someone asked him to do the same, he would have told them to fuck off.

"Sakura."

She turns to him with a dangerous look in her eyes, a cold jade that threatens to cut him if he pushes too far. Sasuke's always been the best at serving the very same look, but it's unnerving to see it etched into Sakura's soft features.

"Dammit, Sakura. Just talk to me."

Her gaze grows warmer, but not in the way he wants. She's angry, and Sasuke isn't really sure how he could have pissed her off in just six words. Sakura being Sakura, she of course makes the reason for her anger clear immediately.

"And why the hell do I need to do that, Sasuke?"

Sasuke nearly winces at the dropped suffix on his name and tries to remember how his mother handled it when he refused to confide in her.

"You haven't been here" - even Sakura knows this is unfair as she says it, but the confusion, grief, and alcohol clouding her mind make it difficult to acknowledge how much the man she loves has grown to be able to offer this to her- "and you never told me anything when I asked you to. So fuck off, Sasuke-kun. I'm sure Naruto's expecting you."

Naruto most definitely wasn't, but Sasuke doesn't see the value in pointing that particular fact out. By the time he got to the village and was promptly dragged into the bar he had made the mistake of walking past on his way to the Hokage Tower, the idiot was already drunk off his ass. Ino was as well, so Hinata asked Sasuke if he would mind going to check on Sakura at the hospital since she and Sai needed to stay to take care of their significant others.

Sakura finally moves to get up, tipping over a half-full bottle of sake in her efforts, but Sasuke can still see the tremors in her hands and the familiar strain of a jaw clenched against tears. Her eyes still dart towards the corners of the room.

Sasuke's well aware of the ghosts that can haunt those shadows and resolves to help Sakura put hers to rest, even if it's just for the night. His legs tighten around Sakura before she can fully pull away from him, and she falls back against his chest with a huff and a glare that's more tired than venomous.

Sasuke sighs and lowers his head. His bangs cover his eyes as he decides to voice at least part of the feelings he's managed to process regarding Sakura. He's not sure exactly how to categorize how he feels about her yet (mostly because his mind still can't comprehend why someone so bright has loved him through so much darkness), but he wants to help and that's about all he can offer her at the moment.

She deserves more, so much more, but he hopes it's enough for now.

"I'm here, Sakura."

He wants to add that he's not going anywhere because someone who will stay is only a fraction of what Sakura deserves, but that's not a promise he can make.

He feels Sakura's surprise as she stiffens against him, and her breath stops altogether for a few worrying moments. Sasuke wills himself to stay relaxed at her back, still maintaining a steady breathing pace should she need the rhythm again.

Sakura's thoughts are a whirlwind that she tries to grab ahold of but slips right through her fingers. She's torn, half of her mind shattered glass that urges her to open up and share even a part of her pain so that she can just stop breaking. Sasuke's here, showing his own vulnerability (however slight) in hopes that she'll trust him enough to do the same, and she's not sure when she'll experience this side of him again.

The other half, near-solid stone with only spiderweb cracks, whispers that voicing the memories that haunt her will only confirm her weakness in Sasuke's eyes. Instead of seeing the warrior who destroyed the ground and healed thousands in the war, he'll see the wisp of a girl who had trailed behind him as a genin.

It's the gentle, unconscious stroke of Sasuke's thumb across her forearm that makes her decision. Sasuke can sense the shift in Sakura as her head drops back onto his shoulder and her eyes squeeze shut. She's tired, so tired.

"I killed them."

Her voice breaks in the middle, and Sakura hisses out a quiet dammit at her traitorous voice. Sasuke's hand tightens where it rests on her arm.

He's quiet for a moment. Outside of discussing strategy or the details of a mission, talking isn't something Sasuke has much practice in. That, and his plan may have ended at getting Sakura to calm down enough to breathe properly.

He spends another minute in silence, growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to find the words he needs to comfort the woman who has always known exactly what he needed to hear. Sakura, however, doesn't seem to mind the silence as she relaxes against him. Green eyes crack open, and though they're still muddled with pain, he sees a steady glimmer of trust and contentment behind them that immediately quells his frustration.

The open trust in Sakura's gaze reminds Sasuke that she's never expected him to be anyone other than himself. She's always been patient, meeting him more than halfway as he seemed to take one step towards her and two or three back.

He suspects it's the same now, as there's no expectation in her eyes, no tension in her body that suggests she's irritated by his silence. So instead of pushing himself to think of the correct words to fill the empty space, Sasuke pulls her more firmly against his chest and shifts her so his chin rests lightly atop her head.

It's more affection than he's ever shown, and it's far from comfortable for him, but Sasuke knows that Sakura's worth a bit of discomfort.

Just as Sakura has spent so many years steadfastly waiting for him to come to her, he settles in to wait for her to tell him - whether that time comes tonight or later down the line.

That time doesn't come tonight. Though she trusts Sasuke with her life, Sakura can't quite break through the insecurity that he'll find her weak the moment she says anything more. Maybe it's not a fair assumption to make, but most of her memories of them together on the battlefield ended in Sakura being treated as fragile - something to be left behind and protected.

Even if they made progress during the war, Sakura's not quite ready to test the durability of the picture of strength she painted as she threw herself at Madara or took on a goddess at her team's side.

Instead, she's happy to just let his presence ward off the shadows in her mind. The voices are silent at his touch, so she decides to just enjoy the rest and wrestle with them when they inevitably come back after Sasuke's gone again.

Sasuke feels Sakura's breathing even out and watches her eyes flutter closed as she falls asleep against him. It's an interesting thing, having someone trust you so fully that they're willing to be at their most unguarded.

And he's done nothing to deserve it. He knows this, and it merely strengthens his resolve to continue his journey of atonement so that he can become someone who's at least a fraction deserving of Sakura and all that she's willing to offer him.

As he maneuvers himself out from behind Sakura and shifts her onto his back, Sasuke realizes with a tinge of bitterness that this is something he could have every day - Sakura's presence and everything bright and loving that entails. But as much as he wants to be there when she wakes up and finally say yes to taking her with him, he's not quite ready for that step.

There's more growth to be had, more relationships to mend, more emotions for him to reconcile within himself. While he knows having Sakura by his side would expedite the process of mending bridges and healing his own wounds, she needs to keep some of her light for herself.

When he leaves this time, it's out of consideration not just for himself, but for both of them. He can just make out the time when he asks Sakura to join him on his journey in the near future, but it's not now. They both have steps they need to take before they're ready.

He leaves Sakura tucked under the nest of far too many blankets she's always stubbornly kept haphazardly strewn across her bed, with a simple note on her nightstand:

Next time, Sakura.

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku blank period #blank period #naruto fanfiction #hurt/comfort #sasusaku fanfiction #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #romance

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theparanormalperiodical · 3 years ago

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Top 10 Scariest Haunted & Cursed Cars You Don’t Want To See In Your Rear View

The Flying Dutchman is an age-old ghost story.

It’s cherished. It’s the OG. It’s an urban legend we can trace back as far as the 17th century.

Supposedly containing the spirits of sailors that died at sea and sighted throughout imperial history, it is a myth we still pass down through the generations via word of mouth.

But this is not the only ship associated with the paranormal.

From the Caleuche to the Queen Mary, vessels glowing with a ghostly green aura or containing lost spirits are supposedly still sailing the seven seas.

This isn’t the 17th century.

As the years went by, advancements in travel did, too.

Humans no longer travel mainly by boat. They started taking trains and they started using cars.

And so a new era of ghostlore was born: the phantom vehicle.

They’re the cursed cars that have driven through striking moments in our history. They’re the apparitions of trains that choo-choo on the anniversary of tragic events.

They’re haunted ‘n’ haunting.

And we’re going to talk about them.

*revvs engine*

*stalls*

*finally gets in the right gear*

What is a phantom vehicle?

This is a vehicle that operates with no driver. It doesn’t just relate to cars operating all by themself, it is actually a term used in the insurance industry.

But back to the spooky.

The role of cars, trains n’ planes in ghostlore extends much further than forgetting to put your handbrake on your mum’s new VW Beetle when you snuck out to the pub after curfew.

Yeah, you can’t blame that dent where it backed up into the streetlight on a lost soul.

The paranormal phenomena associated with phantom vehicles is not just about cars driven by invisible spirits, however. The stories vary, whether it’s claims of mysterious curses killing all those that got behind the wheel, ghostly figures appearing near where they are stationed, or cars appearing in the rearview mirror and then vanishing into thin air.

Here’s the thing: cars, trains and motorcycles have grounded themselves mainly in modern urban legends. But ghost stories?

They aren’t as well known. They should be.

As cars amongst other forms of transport are commonplace in our daily lives, many tragic tales involve them.

When car production and ownership soared in 20th century America, the phantom vehicle took grip here first. It then began to traverse borders, migrating and evolving as it travelled most - notably to Asia. But such claims crop up all over the world.

Some of the most significant moments of our history involve cars. They have seen enough pain - and enough passengers - to surely capture some essence of the human spirit?

They’ve been owned by the dead, guided people to their final fate and transported the bodies back to resting places. That being said, human spirits are not the only entities mentioned in some of these tales.

All of these theories have been thrown up in the face of history, tragedy and the unexplained.

Black Volga

We start with an urban legend. The sort that is unfortunately based on an all-too-true story.

Throughout Russia, eastern Europe, Greece and Mongolia children are often told the tale of a black GAZ-21 car that slowly rolls through the streets looking for people to abduct. As with most urban legends, it encompassed local fears that came with the time. And most of these were rooted in prejudice.

The people behind the wheel were named as either priests, nuns, Jews, communists, the mafia, vampires or satanists. So, anyone the teller of the tale didn’t like.

The car is believed to be jet black with white rims and white curtains. Of course, this varies.

The most popular victims were children supposedly used to help cure the diseases of rich Westerners or Arabs, or for organ theft. If children weren’t being nicked to help cure leukemia, the car would rock up to simply kill innocent people.

Alternative versions talk of a more demonic version of the car (featuring horns and ‘666’ on the license plate cause, you know, less is more). In this case, the driver might ask a passer-by for the time before killing them when they came up to answer, or the time the passer-by gave would be the time they’d die the next day.

If Black Volga happens to roll down your street, simply answer ‘it’s god’s time’ and they’ll speed off into the distance.

The legend of Black Volga might not be based on actual satanists or even involve the devil himself. But it can be traced back to one of the darker chapters in eastern European and Russian history:

The GAZ-M1 cars were actively used by an internal Soviet ministry for mass repression. But the nature of the car kidnapping children is based on the predatory behaviour of the head of this ministry, Lavrentiy Beria.

During WW2, he would be driven around the streets of Moscow and merely point at various young women. They’d be smuggled away to his mansion to be brutalised by this known sexual predator.

The Lincoln Special

The circumstances surrounding Abraham Lincoln’s death were just as mysterious as what happened after it. Lincoln had his own encounters with the paranormal, predicting his own death and appearing in his old office long after he died.

But legend has it you can still see his funeral procession every year.

In 1865, The Lincoln Special finally hit the train tracks holding the body of Lincoln and his young son (who died a few years prior and was to be reburied with his father). It left Washington DC on April 21st 1865 for a 12 day journey to Illinois, leaving mourners up and down the country an opportunity to say goodbye to their president.

On the anniversary of the 12-day journey, people report witnessing a ghostly, white train glowing in the distance and hear a whistle call out to the darkness.

One of the most famous accounts of this was recited in the Wichita Herald in 1879 with a former switchman of the Hudson River Railroad:

“It was the night of April 24, 1866, as far as I can remember, that I first saw it. It was a phantom train. I was at my switch station and had a good while to wait before the next regular train was due I was about to retire into my little house when I heard a sullen, rumbling sound that gave me warning of the approach of a train.

Looking down the road I saw a headlight whose power and intensity I had never seen equaled in my experience of thirty years. There was a chill about the air that I couldn’t understand.”

He then went on to describe in detail the black procession including the people that were riding it. He claimed he saw it twice more after this sighting.

JFK’s Limousine

Lincoln was not the only US president to be on the other side of an assassin’s gun. And he was not the only one to have a vehicle draped in paranormal mystery.

If you don’t know the full story of Kennedy’s final moments, let me bring you up to speed: on November 22nd 1963, JFK and his wife rode in the back of a 1961 Lincoln 74A Convertible through Texas. However, Lee Harvey Oswald, a disturbed ex-marine that had been in-and-out of altercations with the law shot JFK and the governor of Texas, killing the president.

The Lincoln was still kept in service 8 years after his death with a colour change and greater safety precautions put in place so as to not remind the public of what took place in that car.

It can be seen in the Henry Ford Museum where it has been on display since 1978. But an apparition dressed in grey is often seen lingering near it, especially near November and the anniversary of the shooting.

Bullet Baba

This one is odd. Like, really odd.

In 1988, Om Singh Rathore lost control of his motorbike whilst travelling to Chotila (India) and he hit a tree. He died instantly - but the motorbike fell into a nearby ditch.

The morning after, the motorbike was taken to the police station. But when the dawn of a new day came, the police had a surprise on their hands. The bike was nowhere to be seen.

It was found back at the site of the accident.

So, they took it back, emptying the fuel tank and locking it up at the police station to make sure no one was tampering with the vehicle and taking it back to the site of the accident.

But it happened again. Every time they brought it back to the station, by the morning it would return to the ditch it was found in. The locals quickly got wind of the story, believing it to be a miracle and worshipping the ‘Bullet Bike’.

They even built a temple to worship it. Those that visit the shrine pray to the bike and its owner to protect them in their travels. Those that fail to pray are allegedly in for a difficult and dangerous journey.

The Golden Eagle

Turns out the 60s was crawling with cursed cars. But this 1964 Dodge 330 was not the site of a murder - it’s believed to be the killer itself.

Legend has it it started out as a police car in Maine. Three officers drove it, and all of them died.

Of course, police officers do a dangerous job. Death is probably common in their line of duty. But they didn’t meet their fate behind the wheel. They all went on to murder their entire family before they turned the gun on themselves.

It was then purchased by an elderly man before being sold yet again to the current owner. These latter owners so far have remained unscathed. But in the 80s and 90s, it took yet more victims.

During these decades, local members of the church attempted to vandalise it. And they met their end in very unique ways.

One was hit by lightning. Another was decapitated by an 18-wheeler. One child who was dared to simply tough the car in 2008 followed the example of the former police officers and murdered their entire family before setting the house alight.

At the behest of the local church, the car was dismembered and sent to junkyards to prevent it from taking any more lives. But the current owner, Wendy Allen, claims it hasn’t given up on its evil purpose just yet. Doors will fling open on the highway, seat belts will be released randomly, and the steering wheel jams on occasion.

The Taxis Of Japan

Following the devastation of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami which claimed 20,000 lives, there was a dramatic surge in reported paranormal phenomena.

People claimed to be visited by mysterious people who would leave a trail of water in their wake after vanishing, others said they were possessed by the spirits of those killed by the natural disaster.

Whether these sightings were credible or not is not for us to say; this was a form of national mourning for a tragic event. But it was taxi drivers who reported the most perplexing phenomena.

Whilst driving through a hard-hit area of Japan in the early morning summer heat, one was hailed by a young woman who looked rather odd. She wore a heavy winter coat and her hair was drenched. She then asked to be taken to Minamihama which too had been ravaged by the tsunami.

“That area is almost empty. Are you sure?”

She replied: “Have I died?”

The cab driver turned around to see the young woman had vanished.

He was the only one in the car.

Numerous cab drivers have reported similar stories from which they are asked to take passengers to locations, arrive there and realise there is no one on the back seat.

This chimes closely with the Japanese ghostlore. Their ghosts (yurei) are as a result of unfinished business or not being laid to rest. The number missing still stands at above 2500 people ten years on.

The Organ Thefts Of South Korea

585 miles from Japan, another terrifying tale involving taxis unfolded.

And this urban legend is probably one you’ve already heard. Around 1999, numerous websites and forums across the internet reported strange stories of passengers picked up by taxi drivers…

And then waking up days later minus a kidney.

Rumour has it passengers would be drugged with a needle to the neck, have their kidney surgically removed and then often wake up in a random location, such as in the middle of a farm field.

Interestingly enough, these sort of urban legends run rampant in the summer months in South Korea - as opposed to the Autumn months in Western countries. Even their horror films hit the cinema in the warmer season and not nearer Halloween.

The Jumping Car Of Cape Town

The Renault Megane was once a staple car on UK roads. It’s a decent family size vehicle that wouldn’t break the bank. But over in South Africa, it amassed a rather different reputation in 2004.

One night, this car turned on by itself and began ‘jumping’ back and forth all by itself across a family's backyard. Multiple witnesses came forward including two police officers. No one could explain it. How could a car with no keys in the ignition and the parking brake on do this?

Unless, of course, a dark force was at play...

Renault later claimed a rusty starter cable was probably the cause of strange activity. But what about the revving of the engine? It was as if something had its foot down on the gas pedal.

Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s Limousine

JFK was not the only political figure whose car would bear the memory of his murder. But the thing is, what happened after Ferdinand was killed would lead to 21 million more deaths, to simplify a complex war.

Ferdinand and his wife were shot by a Bosnian anarchist in 1914, triggering WW1. But the limo saw more death than this historic assassination.

It would go on to have 15 different owners after this incident. And there were 6 accidents and 13 deaths to follow.

The first man to own it - an Austrian general, Potiorek - went mad simply driving it through Vienna. The next owner, the governor of Yugoslavia, lived through 4 car accidents and lost an arm. He was convinced it was cursed and then decided to sell it to a friend.

The friend was dead within 6 months after a car accident.

Several more would be killed in its wake, whether the result of suicides or collisions. By 1926, it was taken to the War History Museum of Vienna where (thankfully) it has not taken any more lives.

The Vauxhall Astra Of Surrey

We end with one final tragic tale of loss.

On December 11th 2002, the UK police began to receive numerous calls reporting a crash on the A3 in Surrey. Multiple eyewitnesses saw the headlights of a car veering off the road and were concerned about the driver.

But when the police turned up, they saw something quite perplexing. Yes, a car had veered off the road. But this car had been there for months.

5 months.

The police found a Vauxhall Astra nose down in a ditch and covered in mossy undergrowth. Inside was a decomposing human body.

Was this a spirit trying to draw attention to his unburied body?

Some say you can see the accident repeat itself, with headlights swerving off the A3 often reported to no avail. However, as a very popular road that goes through Surrey right up to central London, accidents are very common.

Have you ever seen a phantom vehicle?

Let me know in a comment below!

While you’re there, make sure you like and reblog this post. Want to hear an article about the paranormal every Saturday? Hit follow as well!

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sope-and-shine · 4 years ago

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Lost and Found

-> Namjoon x Reader -> Soulmate!AU // Fluff -> 6.2k (This fic was at 6,199 before post, and I couldn’t let that happen) -> Summary: In a world full of soulmates and soul marks, you just had to get stuck with the dynamic duo. -> Warning(s): none // maybe just fluff

A/N: I suggested the name to Belle as I was drafting the post, and she said she’d sue me if I didn’t use it.

ALSO! A BIG BIG BIG THANK YOU TO BOTH @multycoloredtaco and @purpletigertaetae for reading this and giving me some really good feedback! I love you both SO MUCH!

* * *

Soulmates have always come in several different shapes and sizes. They’ve always appeared to each other in various ways. Your mother and father met by their own personal song that only the two knew of, one that played when they spared a thought to the other. Your aunt had found your uncle with a timer on her wrist, and your grandpa had the unfortunate fate of meeting your grandmother while catcalling her. According to him, it was a very eventful day, but at least her words to him finally made sense. Everyone in your family - besides your great aunt who hasn’t aged since the late 1890s - has had the amazing luck of finding their soulmate. Not everyone gets the luxury of being with their soulmate how they planned to. You’re actually friends with a shop owner who lost his soulmate about a year ago and hasn’t seen any color since. You honestly couldn’t imagine the pain he’s been through. Thankfully, your soulmate mark was not as painful.

It was just extremely annoying.

As a child, you never questioned the items that would appear in your room, thinking of them as odd gifts that your parents or your brother would leave for you. You were no stranger to finding a single sock under your bed, the occasional candy bar tucked away in your backpack, or the odd action figure that you would take to your brother thinking it was his. It wasn’t until the first homework assignment with ‘Kim Namjoon’ scrawled at the top that you began to think something wasn’t right. And that was only the beginning of what was to come.

As the years went by, more and more random items began appearing in your room at your parents house, your dorm in college, and finally your very own apartment. Each item you placed in boxes under your bed as a way to keep a piece of him with you until you could find him. However, you never imagined how forgetful and chaotic your soulmate could really be. You have everything! Clothing items, more homework assignments, various books, glasses, baby photos, and you even have a random girl’s phone number! You were tempted to call her when you first found it, but you figured that would be too weird. Instead, you continued to organize everything under your bed in hopes of giving it all back to him when you would finally meet.

Of course, you were a victim to your soulmate mark as well. Many jewelry items had disappeared from your room without a trace as a result. Hoodies, stuffed animals, and even a bra that you could’ve sworn you put in your gym bag - part of you hoped he’d hide it away because not only was it a cute bra, it was also expensive. Recently though, you’ve both been a lot more responsible. You haven’t seen any new items appear in your apartment for almost a month, and with your soulmates track record of losing 11 items in one day, a month was a huge record on his part. But you were starting to miss the gifts that would give you clues to him.

After you found out what your soulmate mark really was, you started looking forward to what would be left in your room next. Of course, it wasn’t always a win on your part, and sometimes what he lost was very questionable, but it always made you laugh when another item appeared in your room. At first, it was weird to think about someone else’s stuff appearing in your room with no prior warning, but it made you feel special to know that he was ultimately giving you pieces of himself every time he let something out of his sight. They made your long days more bearable. It makes you wonder if he’s the type of person to shower you with gifts when you feel upset or just to show his affection when he felt it was necessary. Especially on a rough day like today.

There was nothing wrong with your job, you loved everything about it! Life as a lead optician was actually a very rewarding job in the end. Helping others choose the best glasses for their face and individual personalities was one of your favorite parts, you loved watching little old ladies try on vibrant, colorful frames to feel youthful. They’re always very excited to see clearly again. Then there are all the little kids who would sit down with you to get glasses for the first time, and the look on their faces when they finally got to see the world clearly was heartwarming. Their soft smiles and wide eyes filled with amazement always made you feel a little softer inside. However, not everyday was a good day, and today was really not a good day.

Everything was going perfectly fine until the 3:30 appointment showed up at 5:00 after the doctor had already left for the day and demanded to be seen. The doctor’s technician was so scared trying to explain to the patient that they’d have to reschedule their appointment, and the poor thing was just trying not to cry over the one person who couldn’t understand how society works. Obviously, as the lead optician on duty you took over, but this patient was one of the most inconsiderate people you’d ever had to deal with. Demanding to be seen, demanding to buy glasses with an old prescription, demanding to speak to a manager - which at this point was actually you, so done and done - and just cursing up a storm at you and your fellow coworkers who all tried to help explain. The whole ordeal just took way longer than it ever should have to deal with, and it probably took at least 25 years off of your life.

“Why do people feel that they need to be rude to get what they want?” Soohyun had asked you, “Do they think it’ll just magically fix everything?”

You had agreed, “It’s like they think you’re really just messing with them. Like, “Oh no, sir! You’re correct! I apologize for the inconvenience, let me pull that out of my ass for you!” Though maybe not appropriate for the work environment, you’d at least made her day just a little better with your humor.

On days like today, a nice warm shower and a cuddle pile with all of the pillows and plushies that cover your bed made everything much better when nothing new appeared in your room. If the odd gifts the universe left from your soulmate couldn’t cheer you up, then you’d do it yourself. And that you did. Nothing felt better than the warm water washing away the day’s pain and suffering, the delicate fragrance of the coconut shampoo you splurged on easing your worries down the drain. The floral body lotion and leave-in-conditioner you’d bought on the same shopping excursion also help your body relax, their scents so intoxicating to you, that you almost topple over onto the tiled floor of your bathroom from the instant pleasure they pull from you. Instead, you make your way to your bed, adorned in your comfiest PJs and fluffiest socks.

However, you weren’t expecting to land on something so hard and uncomfortable when you plopped face first onto your sheets.

“What the heck?” Pushing yourself onto your knees and pulling back the covers, you find a small, golden trophy resting comfortably in the warmth of your sheets. On all sides it reads, ‘MNET Asian Music Awards’ with a small plaque reading, ‘2017 MNET Asian Music Awards: Artist of the Year’ at the bottom of one side. It takes you a moment to understand fully what you hold in your hands before it actually hits you.

Your soulmate is an idol.

A forgetful idol if he lost such an important award, but at least this gave you a lead as to who your soulmate is besides one of the most common surnames and a few measly pairs of mismatched socks.

Setting the award to the side, you grab your phone from your nightstand and unlock it, clicking on your browser and typing away. You look up the artist of the year from 2017 and find the top result to be a boy band called BTS. According to Google’s nice little summary and AllKPOP’s top article, they seemed to be pretty famous. Of course, you’ve heard of them before, and if you heard one of their songs then there was a good chance you’d probably recognize it! But you’ve never really been one for boy bands. You were more into kdramas if you were to be completely honest, they’re definitely your guilty pleasure and way more your speed than handsome young men dancing on stage in front of screaming girls trying to get in their pants. Could you really blame them? No. Not at all. Given the chance, you’d take it, but it wouldn’t be anything special if it wasn’t your soulmate.

Your soulmate.

Namjoon.

Changing your question, you search for ‘Kim Namjoon BTS’. If he actually pops up, then that would mean you actually know who he is.

Finding the nerve to press search, you are bombarded with three pictures above a description of him right off the bat - You hate to admit it, but soulmate or not, he’s definitely handsome. You click on a random site you hope will give you some useful information about the man who’s most likely your soulmate and are immediately redirected to something called K-Profiles. The site itself starts off with a group picture of all the members, followed by their names below it, and their social media handles under that. You’d have to look them up later.

The first member you come across is your soulmate himself. He has his blonde head resting on top of his arms with a soft, dimpled smile as he stares right back at the camera. Eyes locked onto his through the screen, you can feel your heart speeding up just from looking at him. You can’t help but smile back at him as if he can actually see you. As if he were right there ready to come out and say ‘hi’.

He’s absolutely breathtaking, and it isn’t even him.

You continue your hunting, scrolling further down to learn as much as you can about him. How old he is, when he was born, where he was born, what his favorite color is, you want to know it all! You learn that he’s the leader of the group, that he used to be known as Rap Monster before he changed it - that USB in the box under your bed made a lot more sense now. You learn that he has a sister, and that he and his band members are advocates for UNICEF, and that this man was so incredibly intelligent yet also known as the ‘god of destruction’ to those around him. But also listed on his profile is his soulmate mark.

“As said in a V-Live where RM explained a stuffed animal he kept on his desk, anything RM loses will appear with his soulmate and vice-versa. He has yet to meet his soulmate.” You read. You’ve lost quite a few stuffed animals to Namjoon, hopefully, it wasn’t an embarrassing one that would haunt you later.

You come to the end of his profile and to the top of another handsome man, yet you don’t scroll down. You haven’t learned enough. You need to know more about him, about how you can meet him. You have to know more! And that’s how you find yourself still up at 5am the next morning still wide awake watching yet another video interview of your soulmate just to hear his voice. A part of you is embarrassed for staying awake all night for some guy, but another part of you can’t let it go when you’re so deep already.

* * *

You called into work after your late night-early morning escapade, telling them you caught something from one of your friends and wouldn’t be in for the next few days. There was no way you were going anywhere with the sleep you just got, and it wouldn’t be fixed in one day either. Even after sleeping the morning away you were still tired from your late night-early morning endeavor. It’s not like you really cared though, you had just found out who your soulmate was. And unlike a lot of other people in the world, you had an entire collection of videos dedicated to just your soulmate and his passion.

It didn’t take long for you to dig your nose back into the screen of your phone just to watch him make that gorgeous, dimpled smile. There were so many videos where he talked about you, sharing some of the items you had lost with his fans like they were his best friends. He looked so proud to be showing off your things, and the look in his eyes when he’d get lost in his own thoughts just looking at them made your heart melt.

You’d heard your mom and dad talk about how happy they were to have a special song just for the two of them. Your mom used to tell you all about the day your father tracked her all the way from the grocery store, pushing through the crowd like a love interest in a kdrama because he heard her humming their song to herself. At a young age you always thought it was sweet and wanted to meet your soulmate just like your mom had, but you eventually realized as you got older that a strange person following you home is not something you want. However, now you kinda wished it could work like that, seeing that your soulmate was practically untouchable.

Of all the people in the world, you just had to get stuck with a celebrity with millions of girls from all over the world fawning over him. Getting chased in the streets must be on this guy’s workout regimen by now! How were you supposed to get anywhere near him without spending over $1,000 just to look at his face?

“How much are those fan-meet things?” You ask yourself aloud. Innocent enough, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the entire process that came with going to just one fansign. This wasn’t something you could just buy a ticket for. No. You had specific steps that you had to follow or you wouldn’t even stand a chance. There were so many steps that you were tempted to just find his company and blast music until security came to take you away. Maybe you’d at least get to meet him when they filed a restraining order.

No. You HAD to meet him. You haven’t saved all of his lost things just for you to chicken out now.

So, you made a fancafe account and waited for their next promotion to purchase an album, you waited for the lottery winners to be announced, and you almost doubled over when you saw your name on the list from the store. You thought 3 months was long enough, but the 24 hours before the event were the longest hours of your life. So long that you couldn’t even sleep!

That’s where the wrench comes in.

You hadn’t meant to stay up so late at all, but you were really excited to finally meet the man that’s been losing everything he touches - especially now that he’s started losing air pods under your bed. So, when you woke up at 10:30am for the fansign that started at 11, you knew you’d messed up.

You messed up bad.

Of all the irresponsible things you could’ve done, staying up late was not the one you should’ve chosen to do. Now, you’d have to wait even longer to see him. Maybe the universe was right to give you both the worst soulmate mark known to man.

It wasn’t like waiting for the next fansign was bad, but it wasn’t the best either. Everyday that passed was another day that you had to watch him through a screen. Seeing his dimpled cheeks smile at the camera - at you - making your heart race. He was so close to you, but he was so out of reach. When the next fansign did come around, you had to make sure you made it on time so you could see it in person for yourself.

That’s what you told yourself.

To your credit, you almost did do that! But you had no idea there would be so much traffic. Not only that, but you’d tripped and dropped the box of things to return to him on the street and had to pick it up before anyone saw what it was you were holding. Because of those small issues, you made it to the venue five minutes after they had closed the doors.

“Please, I’m only five minutes late!” You beg, breathing heavy and labored. You stare at the worker just doing her job with high hopes that she would have some sort of empathy for you, but her face showed no remorse.

“If you wanted to be let in, then you should have been on time.” She scolds, closing the doors on you and leaving you outside to wallow in self pity once more.

At least the first time you’d messed up you were in the comfort of your own home where you could cry over your failure. Now, you were left in the open for everyone to see your mistake. You were so close too. He was just behind the doors. Waiting to see the adoring faces of his fans that you should be a part of.

Yet you’re on the streets.

* * *

“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?”

“What makes you say that?” You turn to your friend from your seat on the ground outside of the shop you’d purchased your album from, dressed in a light hoodie with a coffee in your hand. The light of day just peaking through the cracks between the buildings as the street lamps turn off for a new day.

At this point in your journey to meet your soulmate, you weren’t going to take any more chances. The store didn’t open for another 3 hours, and the event started an hour and a half after that, but you were going to be sure you had your ticket and made it to the venue on time. You didn’t care how early you were, you were going to see Namjoon if it was the last thing you did.

The poor, tired woman seemed to pick up on your indifference to your change in behavior and sighs, “Nothing in particular. I’m just concerned that maybe you’re taking this to the extreme now.”

“I’ve tried and failed three times already, Bomi. I cannot miss another chance to meet them!” You explain, taking a sip from your warm cup.

“Maybe the universe is trying to tell you that they’re just a boy band and you shouldn’t get so excited over them. They all have soulmates anyways.” Of course she didn’t know that you were going because one of them was your soulmate, but you couldn’t risk anyone finding out and telling your soulmate before you could tell him.

“I know that, but it’s worth it!” All the hours you’d spent waiting, watching their new content, reading their tweets and various posts from other social media wishing you could see him in person for just a moment. This was the fourth attempt, and you didn’t want to continue this cycle of hit and miss. “I’m not missing it this time.”

“Well, waiting outside of this shop so early just to get a ticket that’s already yours is absurd!”

“You didn’t have to come with me.” You grumble. It wasn’t like you didn’t know that. You were very much aware of the fact that it was insane. It was something you thought about every time you failed to make it into the venue! Having her reiterate what you already knew did not make it any easier.

However, your acquaintance wasn’t having your response, “I did. You blackmailed me into coming with you so you’d actually do it right, remember?”

The vague memory of sending her an embarrassing picture you had as a way to convince her to come flashes through your mind. So maybe your methods were unconventional, but they worked. “That’s not important!”

You both continue to wait by the store’s entrance, making light conversation as more people begin to show up for their own tickets. Of course, you knew they’d be here, that’s why you left extra early to be there first. It was a good thing you did too, because as the time ticked on and the line grew longer, it became obvious a lot of fans had purchased their albums from the same store you had. Even as the store owner arrived to start their day, not at all surprised by the line that had formed for them, there were still fans lining up for their tickets.

But in the end, you were first to arrive and receive your ticket, and that made you one of the first to the venue.

“Alright, we made it. This is where I leave you.” Bomi hikes her bag further onto her shoulder and turns to face you one last time before she leaves, “Don’t make a fool of yourself in there. And do not show them your airpod collection!”

‘Oh, I’m returning the airpod collection…’ You think to yourself, sending a quick wave goodbye to her.

Waiting for the doors to the venue to open didn’t take as long as you’d thought it would - security check taking even less time. You found your seat pretty easily as well, being placed on the left side of the empty table in the middle of the sea of chairs. Taking the time you have while everyone finds their seats, you take a peek inside of the box you’d brought to grab your album and just look at everything you’d brought to begin their return to Namjoon. You made sure to bring every pair of air pods you had found - and hadn’t sold on eBbay - a few old homework assignments, USB’s, pictures he’d taken through his pre-debut, and the trophy he’d misplaced that lead to your discovery.

Hopefully his band members wouldn’t be too upset with him.

You’d learned a lot about each of them over the two years you’ve spent trying to meet with Namjoon. So many times you’d been tempted to put yourself on the fan page or DM them on Twitter, but you were too afraid of being drowned out by other ARMYs or one of the other boys blocking you before Namjoon could see. No doubt they each probably had hardships of their own trying dodge fans claiming to be their soulmate. Watching as they each come to the stage individually, you could see why anyone would lie to call them theirs. You couldn’t deny how handsome they all were - you’d be lying to yourself if you said you thought they weren’t handsome - but no one could compare to your Namjoon.

If you get the opportunity to meet his stylist, then you’re going to give her the biggest hug for making him look this amazing! It was just a plain white, button down shirt tucked into a black pair of dress pants, but the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the grey, satin suit jacket with the addition of black, square glasses and his brown hair neatly parted to the left make him look like a god - should they exist. He takes your breath away, even if you’ve seen every picture and fancam you were able to find. The universe really said, “this one deserves the best” and threw you the biggest catch out there. You could only hope he enjoyed the simple pair of jeans and pastel yellow sweater you’d thrown on for the occasion.

It takes a while before they begin the meet and greet part, the boys introducing themselves and asking questions, letting their fan sites take pictures before they turn their attention to the individual fans as they pass them. With every moment that passes by, every row you watch stand and enter the line to the stage, you become more and more nervous. Of course, you knew your soulmate was truly Namjoon, but you were still terrified to reveal that truth in front of everyone. You’d seen a few announcements regarding the boys and their soulmates, talking about how their respective soulmate would be treated like another one of the boys and would be protected by BigHit as soon as they were found. You knew you’d at least have his company behind you, but…

What about his fans?

You can’t help but fester in your own thoughts, letting them consume you even as you make your way into the line with your box. You try your best to muster up the courage you need, but the looming presence of the table getting closer and closer makes your breathing harder. All you need to do is remain calm. They were just people.

The people who’ve spent almost 7 years with your soulmate.

And your soulmate himself.

No biggie.

“Ma’am.” The voice of the staff keeping the line interrupts your internal panic, pulling you back to reality. He points to the table where an excited Taehyung smiles eagerly at you with an empty space in front of him. “You’re next.”

“Yes! Thank you.” Reeling from embarrassment, you quickly kneel down to the space in front of the table. You give a small bow and hand over your album to the boxy-smiled boy in front of you, your hands shaking from how nervous you are. All you had to do was make it through 5 more boys and you’d meet your soulmate.

5 more people....

...and you’d meet your soulmate.

A hand lands on top of your own, “There’s no need to be nervous!” Taehyung is bright and happy, calmly running a thumb over the back of your hand as he uses the other to sign your album. His eyes shift from you to the paper and back to you, “You’re doing great~”

You felt a little bad for probably ignoring him. He must’ve been trying to introduce himself when he’d noticed you’d spaced out yet again. Yet here he was, acting as though it wasn’t even that big of a deal. Of course, he still had about 50 more people or so to have a minute conversation with, but he genuinely seemed to care. It made you feel more confident.

“Thank you.” You say, a smile gracing your lips. You were still nervous, but at least now you felt calm and somewhat collected to at least make it through the other members. You move onto Yoongi, then to Jeongguk, to Jin, to Jimin, and then to Hoseok. Once again, you’re feeling a little guilty about the time you spend with him. It wasn’t like you weren’t excited to be in front of him, but your soulmate was less than 2 feet away from you looking like he walked out of a Vogue photo shoot with a happy little smile on his face. Hopefully, if all goes well you can apologize to him for being distracted.

The staff moves everyone along and your time finally comes. You bid Hoseok a quick thank you and goodbye and move yourself in front of Namjoon, his box tucked close to your body as a way to keep you grounded.

Namjoon takes your album from Hoseok before he turns his full attention to you, his dimples that you’d been obsessed with since you’d first seen them making an appearance. His dark brown eyes stare into your own, “Hi, what’s your name?”

You’re so entranced by the man in front of you that you almost don’t respond. You manage a quiet, “(Y/n)...” But you’re so stunned and breathless that you think about repeating it just to make sure he hears it.

“Really?” He asks. His eyes widen for just a moment, and you know he recognizes it from a homework assignment or a book you’d probably lost with your name in it. You watch his shoulders as they tense and then relax as if they’d never lifted in the first place. “I really like that name. It’s one of my favorites.”

You watch him turn to the album in front of him, looking for the page you’d like him to sign. Being in front of him now, you feel your confidence grow. You can’t help yourself, “Really? Is there a reason?”

“I’ve just always liked the name.” He says, looking up momentarily with a tight smile. He probably didn’t want to be too obvious about his soulmate - well, you - so fans wouldn’t go looking for you. That must be the one downside to the life of an idol. You watch him carefully, taking in the way he handles your album with care. You watch him flip through pages, his smile slipping for a confused frown. He looks at you, “You don’t have a question for me?”

You jump at the sudden realization that you hadn’t given him the box yet, “No! I do…” This was it. You look from him to the box you’ve clung onto for two years, “It’s inside the box.”

Carefully, you slide the box forward, feeling the nerves you’ve been feeling all day spring to life. He takes it from you with a grateful smile, probably expecting a bear or something you’d made yourself just for him. But judging by the look on his face, you can tell he wasn’t expecting to find the objects in front of him. His shocked face makes you chuckle.

“I’ve always wondered how one person can lose so many things. I understand homework and socks, the airpods, but an entire trophy, Namjoon? How do you lose a trophy?” You ask. You wait for an answer, but he looks as if he’s completely shut down. His jaw hangs open ever so slightly, and his eyes are wide in disbelief. You see a glisten in his eyes and your amusement turns to worry, “Are you okay?”

The leader turns to you, glistening eyes staring into your own. His mouth opens and closes and it looks like he’s trying to find the right words to say, “I-...I don-...oh my god, you’re actually here.”

You watch as the shine in his eyes turn to tears that slowly roll down his cheeks, his mouth struggling to decide if he wants to frown or smile. You’re more worried than anything, “Wah-! Don’t cry! Why are you crying?!” You reach for his hands that still rest on the sides of the box, mimicking what Taehyung had done for you when you first stepped up to the table. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He says softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly. You’re still confused if he himself is happy or not, trying to make sense of why he’s crying when he just met you. You watch his eyes drift over you with an unclear expression. Was he happy? Was he sad? Were you supposed to be reacting the same way?

“You’re beautiful…” He says, teary eyes meeting your own.

“So are you.” You respond. It’s only after the words fall from your mouth that you realize what you said and you try to correct yourself, “Handsome! I meant to say you’re handsome! You’re very attractive in a very masculine way, but that’s not to say you don’t express femininity well when you choose to and you look good all the time and-” Amidst your struggle for the correct words, he’d begun to laugh at your own expense. Not how you imagined this meeting to go, you shrink back to your side of the table, “I’ll just stop talking.”

“No! Please, keep talking.” He begs, moving forward to come closer to you. He pulls on your hands that still connect across the table, squeezing to reassure you that he still wanted you to be near him. It felt so nice to have him hold your hands, so nice and comforting, that you must’ve missed the glistening in your own eyes, “Now you’re crying!”

Your hands pull from his to hide your face, “No I’m not, it’s just raining inside!”

As you try to wipe away your tears, you hear the voice of Jimin call over the speakers just off to the side of the table, “You’re not supposed to make the fans cry!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Namjoon defends. In all fairness, you did make him cry first, so this was probably fair.

Hoseok claps his hands together, his voice just subtly coming through the speakers as well, “This is so sweet! We’re all witnessing two soulmates meet for the first time!”

“It’s like a movie, but without the flower petals.” Taehyung adds, having a mic of his own on his side as well.

“Miss.” Another staff member appears next to you, only this time they’re offering a hand and a smile, “Could I have you come with me?”

You’re nervous at first, not sure if going with this staff member would be the best idea. However, the presence of Namjoon’s hand on your own once more draws your attention to his heartwarming smile, “It’s okay.”

You nod and stand, allowing the staff to lead you behind the table and into the hallway to a waiting area. They have you sit on the couch, assuring you that Namjoon and the others would be there to see you soon. This at least gave you a moment to collect your thoughts and come to the realization that you really just met your soulmate after so much hard work to get there. You’d thought plenty of times that you’d regret trying to meet him this way, but now you couldn’t be more elated that you actually got to speak to him and hold his hands. You made him cry - what were hopefully - tears of joy! Even as their manager sits down to make small talk with you while you wait for the end of the fanmeet, you can’t help but to feel as if you’re on cloud 9.

It’s not too long until you hear that the meeting has come to an end, making your heart rate speed up. Once again, you take a deep breath in and let it out, preparing yourself to face Namjoon again. Only when he does come in, you both just stare at one another. Him from the doorway with his members waiting behind him and you from your spot on the couch. You’d already met, you’d already held hands, but this...he was right there.

“Well, are you going to talk to her or just look at her?” Jin asks, a mischievous smirk gracing his features as he stares at the younger.

It would seem that the small jab at the leader was all he needed to push himself forward, legs moving swiftly across the room in long strides just so he can reach you. You stand, intending to meet him halfway, but he’s already pulling you into a much needed embrace before you even get the chance. His arms wrap over your shoulders, caging you close to his chest as he leans down to rest his head on your own. He smells so nice, and his embrace is so warm, they almost distract you from the wetness you feel on top of your head.

“Namjoon…?” You ask, worried you might make him cry more by asking.

The man himself pulls back, quickly moving to wipe his tears as if he hadn’t already cried in front of you already, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute.” You assure him. You look down, feeling a bit embarrassed yourself, “Much cuter than showing up to your fansign with a bunch of your things.”

“How long have you known?” He asks.

“2 long and painful years.” You sigh. Thinking back on everything you’ve done since discovering who and where he was, you can’t help but be thankful it worked out this time around, “I’ve tried coming to a fan sign 3 times before this.”

“Couldn’t win a ticket?” Jeongguk asks from the side, a bottle of water in his hands.

Your sheepish smile turns into a strained one, “Yeah...we’ll go with that.”

Yoongi seems to pick up on your change in attitude, “Don’t tell me…”

“No wonder the universe put them together, they’re a match made in heaven!” Jin laughs, the sound being much more entertaining in person. The other members of BTS continue to talk amongst themselves, discussing the scene before them as well as how exciting the day had been. But Namjoon, instead, focuses all of his attention on you.

“Please tell me you’re free for the rest of the day.”

For once, you were more than happy to use your holiday time, “I’m free for the rest of the weekend.”

“Good.” He says, giving you another look at his beautiful, dimpled smile.

“Good...”

* * *

“So, what’s in the box?”

380 notes · View notes

ruorelabrealis · 3 years ago

Text

Behold the xiaoven oneshot I impulsively wrote without a title;

Notes: I didn't revise this yet so criticize if you must. This ship will be the end of me one day.

He really doesn't want to fight Venti. Xiao thinks as he waits in the room below the stadium, hearing the crowd cheer aa the last battle's winner is declared.

He spends like last seconds before stepping out for the next battle composing himself.

Venti, the Anemo Archon, Xiao knows, is the same boy who plays beautiful melodies on his flute and makes flower crowns for the village children. Just the thought if him beaten up is enough to make Xiao grimace slightly.

Still, He can't let Rex Lapis' name be tarnished just because he would pity this certain bard if he'd see wounded, beaten up, green clothes torn, hair in a mess... He sighs.

He doesn't know the reason why Rex Lapis was so eager to participate in this Mondstadtian event. All he knows is that he is to dutifully follow his every command. This one isn't an exception.

If he thinks about it Rex Lapis has given him far worse requests than this. This wasn't even a big deal.. supposedly. If only he hadn't heard that bard's tune that night.

The huge cage-like door that divides Xiao from the main arena opens, snaps Xiao away from his brooding, and a duplicate of it does the same on the other side.

Across the even grounds of dirt and dust he sees the familiar shades of aqua blue braids and how the wind violently thrashes with the white cecilia kept on his hair and the white hood at the back. Venti is... not wearing his usual attire. This must be the stuff he wears as an archon, Xiao concludes as he assesses the silk garments and flamboyant gold linnings.

He can almost feel it, the smile coming from that direction.

Meanwhile Xiao narrows his eyes at the figure, pulling out his spear and warily stepping half an inch forward when he sees that the other does not draw a weapon.

When the two step out where the shadows no longer proon over them and into the sunlight making it's declaration under the absence of a roof above the battle field.

The crowd's cheers louden. Many cheering for Mondstadt as they were on it's grounds. Familiar faces looking down upon Xiao which he does not need to look back at to know who. They're assessing him.

He could feel the thrill of excitement vibrating from the stands and how Xiao hates being in the spotlight.

The crowd's screams soften into doubtful murmurs when they take in the sight of the Xiao's oponent. What is a mere bard doing battling a skilled adeptus? they must be thinking.

"Boy, get out of there!"

"You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"This is boring we have a clear winner already"

Such idiots they were, Xiao thought. Although he could not really put the blame on them, only few knew of the bard's true identity and those who did either gasp or have a solemn line on their lips.

Against the growing protests and remarks of doubt amongst the people, Venti only grins wider. The mischief never leaving his eyes.

"Xiao, Conquerer of demons, Mighty Yaksha!" Xiao cringes at the call of his name, "versus... Venti.." The anouncer declares with lack of climatic rise at the last part.

"That's my name" He hears the boy chuckle from afar. "So dear adeptus, shall we start?"

Venti's stance is slovenly, showing no conduct of offense or defense. Xiao's grip on his spear tightens. Hesitation begins to flood his senses voices saying 'Him too?' 'No more' He inores them all eyes shut.

He trudges forward with his spear swiftly. The attack is quickly evaded with a burst of wind. Xiao might admit it wasn't his most precise attack but it was one nonetheless and he can't help but feel a gush of relief that it was dodgable.

"How rude, surely we must start with proper introductions, even if we are in a battle field," Venti says after finding his footing, placing his hands on his hips.

"So, who shall go first?"

"I know who you are," Xiao says, they are now on the opposite sides of where they had started.

That statement was meant to cut this conversation short but Venti only beams in pride, "My my how delighted I am that the breeze had blown my name to Liyue. Shall i sign a poster for you?"

"You can drop the act or I'll tell them your true identity right here right now," Xiao says knowing that thr winds would shield the audience from picking up this conversation.

"You wouldn't." Venti challenged. Xiao attempts another front attack with his spear that is evaded again. And another right after that pointing to Venti's head, he ducks.

"Hmph fine, so you already know who I am, What about you then? Do I know you?" Venti says after avoiding all of Xiao's plays.

His patience is wearing away. "Xiao. loyal server of Rex Lapis, yaksha. The announcer told everyone earlier, maybe you were too caught up in presenting yourself to hear."

Venti disregards the remark and frowns, "Your telling me about the warrior, the one who follows commands, I'm not asking for him. I'm asking about you. I want to know who Xiao is."

Xiao beginning to get more frustrated by the constant philosophical sentennces, only ignored that comment and lands another attack only rougher.

"Don't tell me you don't know who he is?" Venti questions after multiple dodges.

Xiao stares dumbfoundedly, spear pointed at the other boy's chest. A meter away from peircing through. "Ofcourse I know who I am,"

"Do you really?"

He stays silent at that and the other boy only frowns more.

"Enough chit chat we want to see action!" A random voice shouts from the crowd. "Yeah!" And a chime of voices agree.

"Alright alright" Venti rolls his eyes at whatever direction, "It seems we have to cut our introductions short, my apologies,"

"No apologies needed." He had opted to make this quick, fewer riddles to think about would help in that matter.

At one point, Xiao notices the crowd getting evidently used to their battle pattern. Attack, Dodge, Attack, Dodge. That was all that was ever seen. Venti never went on an offensive and that was all Xiao did. Neither ran out of stamina.

At one point it's the hundredth or so attack Xiao lands, when the sunny skies suddenly blink to night. Cheering was replaced by the familiar sound of the Dihua flute. And Venti's armour flickers to the green clad attire he normally wears.

When Xiao blinks the world goes back to normal and he realizes that his spear is an inch away from the other boy. He staggers on his feet, aim clumsly redirecting to the empty space beside him.

In the crowd's eyes it looked like Venti has yet again dodged Xiao's attack but those in the battle field could clearly tell that Xiao made a mistake. Venti sees this.

He makes a step forward to the recovering adeptus. "If you have no plan on fighting you should declare a defeat now before time runs out."

"I won't let down Morax's name" Xiao replies, though it, too, sounded to him that he was desperately convincing himself rather than the archon.

Xiao was about to land another attack when the Archon begins drawing out a bow from wherever it came from and shoots Anemo embedded arrows.

Xiao doesn't dodge, he doesn't need to, the arrows are shooting right past him forming a circle with him being it's center.

Is the Anemo Archon belittling him? He was about to ask just so when a bursts of air coming from every direction where the arrows were shot shakes the arena resulting in a cloud of dust in the battlefield.

A smoke screen, he realizes. Had this been his plan all along? The other boy could no longer be seen admist the fog of brown dust and Xiao is ready to defend himself from all attacks he might pull.

What he wasn't ready for was the Archon's body slamming against his, both of them fall on the ground. Venti is ontop of him, pinning both of his arms to the floor. Shit he was caught off guard.

Despite his feeble form the boy's grip manages to keep Xiao pinned to the ground. Had he used less energy than this Xiao would've successfully broken free.

"What makes you think I'd hurt you?" The Archon asks out of nowhere as Xiao struggles to move. Wrong question to ask really, to an adeptus whose been in bloodshed for as long as he knew.

"Get off," He warns.

"I'm sorry, this will only be painful for a little bit," Venti apologizes, to his surprise, looking genuine despite his micheivous demeanour. He bends down to the point where Xiao can't see anything but the bright glow of blue eyes fading to green.

Venti's lips touch his own. Xiao lets out a burst of surprise from the sudden act.

He tries to ignore the alarming amount of heat creeping upon his cheeks as he attempts in breaking their contact.

But then he softens, and how he curses himself for it. He closes his eyes and melts into the other boy's kiss.

As the kiss goes on longer the more his grip is lossening on his spear, the more of his struggling to get out of Venti's hold and protests in his mind die down.

Until he feels Venti pull away and refuses to meet his eyes.

As the other boy's eyes seem to light up, literally, and he can see the reflection of his own glow. He feels a gush of air arise in his viens and flows everywhere throughout his body.

Despite what Venti had said, it isn't painful at all, he notices, only a tad uncomfortable. It's like getting a vaccine shot.

As the unknown gas stems to his inner organs, all the hidden tension in his body completely slips away. He feels numb but the voices in his head disappear. He can no longer move, he can't feel his fingers, legs or anything for that matter.

Then suddenly he remembers Zhongli saying "Acharis Demeanti, An ancient spell only to be used by archons. Causes the victim to be rendered immobile by the touch of an Archon's lips"

He is left there lying on the ground by his spear as Venti walks away. He looks at the clouds that pass by as he remains still.

The cloud of dust that was surrounding them dissipates as a burst of anemo energy is shot out of the boy's hands. Venti stands there, hand on his hips and the other stretched out to wave as the crowds cheer.

"Venti wins!"

Some look to be in confusion. And the millions of murmurs about what could've happened within the vision obstructing cloud of dust that made the strongest adeptus lose.

I'm sorry, he thinks as he sees Zhongli frown from the corners of his eyes.

"Drink this," Venti comes into his view a moment later, looking down so that Xiao could see him. He places a bottle of bright blue liquid onto Xiao's open palm and winks before he's out of sight.

Minutes later when he feels that he can move his fingers enough. He plays with the small glass bottle in his hands and feels the anemo energy stored inside it.

This could be another trick, he ponders. But would Venti be the type to pull another stunt right after a battle. After consideration, he gulps it. It tastes like... Dandelion wine?

Whatever witch brew that was, The trance he was in completely fades as he stands up and leaves the open arena.

"Rex La– Zhongli, my apologies.." He says, guilt rising from his stomach, as they walk out of the stadium amongst the crowd.

Zhongli waves it off. "There is no need for that, I'm not mad" It's hard to tell, he has that same stoic expression. "We should've known he'd pull a trick like that,"

"But"

"You were rendered uncapable of continuing the fight because of his spell, were you not? It isn't anything to apologize about" Zhongli questions.

That only made Xiao feel even worse, for his grip on the weapon had loosened long before the spell had made it's way to his body. But he did not argue any further.

"Now, We ought to find Childe and have dinner–"

Two loud voices in the plaza nearby cut him off. "What was that" A man with blazing red hair crosses his arms.

"Hey, I won didn't i? Now you have to treat me to a years worth of wine haha!" Venti cheers to himself, looking proud and victorious even if from afar he looks like a child being scolded by it's guardian.

"You cheated, didn't you" The taller one acusses.

"Rules don't say anything about me not using magic alright? I won fair and square!" Venti huffs and glances to his side, his eyes widen in delight, "Right Xiao?"

The man in question turns away, embarassed. But Zhongli walks toward them, to his demise.

"My apologies for his actions" The man– Diluc– bows to him, placing one hand to his chest. Zhongli shakes his head stepping forward, while Xiao keeps a distance.

"Although I hate to say this, He's right," Zhongli says proving his statement when his eyebrows crease "Congratulations" He sounds bitter.

"See! I told you so!" Venti turns back to Diluc.

"That doesn't mean you should go smooching around placing the forbidden Archon's spell on people!" Xiao only backs away more at the phrase 'smooching'.

"Adepti," And turns even redder when Venti doesn't correct him about it.

"Not the point." Diluc sighs and brings a hand to his forehead.

"Hmph. I'll make it up to you later Xiao! I promise!" Venti promises to the boy before lightly skipping away, "Now, thou art must be taking my leave! Farewell! For the vin we must retrieve!"

"Where do you think you're going?l!" Diluc shouts but Venti doesn't stop.

"Wine! wine! wine! Here I come!" He says in a sing-song manner and disappears to a burst of feathers before Diluc could reach him.

Xiao thinks he peeks at mirth-filled blue eyes one last time before they vanish, What exactly did he mean by 'make it up to you'.

The endddd tundundun i don't know what to write as a continuation.

#xiaoven #genshin fluff #because i was bored #why did i do this #this is why i can't have nice things #genshin

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years ago

Text

The Bloody Benders

In the late 1800’s while traveling the roads of Labette County, Kansas you might have come across a small bed and breakfast inn owned by the Bender family. As travel was slow via horse and cart you may have felt inclined to stop off for the night, especially if you were a man as the Benders daughter Kate was quite beautiful and ‘curvy’. Unfortunately should you stay the night (or even just for a meal) it was likely you were not going to leave again. The Bender family were all serial killers and their list of victims was long. As you are shown to the place of honor at the dinner table you probably would not take great notice of the thick curtain behind you that subdivided the little one room cabin, or the trap door at your feet. Unfortunately death was waiting for you there. Kate would serve you, entertain you with flirtatious conversation, her low cut and loose shirt keeping you distracted. As this was taking place John Bender, the family’s patriarch and his son, would be standing right behind you, a heavy hammer in their hands. When the time was right they would swing, the hammer smashing you in the side of the head. This would leave you unconscious or dead, but either way you were soon to be finished off. The table would be moved out of the way, and the trapdoor opened, where you would be slid below the house to have your throat cut, spilling your lifeblood onto the cellar floor. From here you would have all your valuable possessions taken from you and then buried in one of the various adhoc burial grounds dotted around the Bender property. Maybe you would be buried whole, maybe in parts… it all depended on the Bender’s mood and whether you were easy to carry or not. You were then just another of the missing persons who had disappeared while traveling this part of the country, a statistic, your fate unknown until this murderous scheme was uncovered by almost pure luck. The Bender family killed more than a dozen people at their property between 1871 and 1873. In 1870, five families had settled in the Osage township, Kansas, located along the great Osage Trail, a main route for anyone looking to travel west. One of these families was John Bender Senior and his son John Bender Junior. They made their land claim and began creating a home – the one room cabin, a barn and a well. Once these initial constructions were complete they sent for Kate Bender and her daughter Kate (yep, two John’s and two Kate’s, due to this the parents will now be referred to as Ma and Pa Bender and their children as John and Kate.) This small community of families were all spiritualists, of which Kate was a self proclaimed psychic and healer. Ma and Pa spoke very little English, were not very nice to their neighbors, and were considered half wits. John spoke English well, but was also considered a halfwit due to his tendency to laugh aimlessly and at length. Kate on the other hand was beautiful, charming and quite the business woman. The Bender’s home was subdivided by a sheet allowing the back end to become their living space and the front half to be a general store and a place people could come for a meal. Kate also utilized it for her spiritual practices, healings, lectures and seances. It was a quiet community, travelers went through and although many went missing, no one thought there was murder happening in their own town. That is until the body of a man was found in a nearby creek with his head crushed and throat cut. The following year, 1872, two other men were discovered in a similar state, and soon people realized something was quite wrong as finally the disappearances seemed to be linked to the Osage township. Groups of vigilantes were formed who would then travel around arresting anyone who seemed untoward or had the slightest criminal record. However, with no proof, these people were released by authorities only to be chased out of the town. In late 1872 a man and his infant daughter were relocating to another part of the country, and when they were not heard from again a neighbor, Doctor York, followed their trail to go

looking for them. He also was never seen again. Doctor York had two brothers, one a Colonel, who went looking for him and the trail led straight to the Bender family. The Bender’s did say that the Doctor had stayed at the inn, but had left the next day and that perhaps he had been attacked and killed by the local Indians.That would have been that had Ma Bender not chased a woman from the inn screaming and threatening her with a knife. Colonel York returned to the inn with armed men to find out what had happened. Ma Bender could not speak English very well, but upon being pushed, she flew in a rage saying the woman she had chased was a witch who had cursed her. Kate Bender settled the situation down and invited the Colonel back (alone) the following night so she could use her psychic abilities to help him locate his Doctor brother. The Colonel did not fall for the ruse and was convinced the Bender family were guilty of all the disappearances, but needed proof. A meeting was arranged at the township in the hopes of organizing a warrant to search all the homes (as not to single out the Bender family), but the arguing began and soon once again the Osage Indians were in the firing line, many thought they were to blame. As all of this was taking place, the Bender family quietly took their possessions and fled. Their disappearance was not noted for several days, but when it was, there was a massive outcry and many people descended on the property to search it for the missing people. They opened the trapdoor and found it bloodstained, the floor was dug up and found that so much blood had seeped into it that they were still digging up clotted blood several feet down. The cabin was then lifted by several dozen men and carried some distance so the entire floor could be easily dug up. No bodies were found. However, when they started to dig in the vegetable garden and apple orchard the bodies were discovered – one of the first found was Doctor York. A majority of the bodies were found to have one side of the head smashed in and their throats cut. Not all bodies were found in the ground, as some were discovered in the Well along with other dismembered remains. As the word got out about the ‘Bloody Benders’ crowds of people traveled to the property which was soon stripped of every possession left by the family as souvenirs, and once that was done, people started to take the wooden cladding home with them. Everyone wanted a piece of this macabre history. A friend of the Bender’s was found by the mob and taken back to the house and questioned. When he had no answers they hanged him from a rafter, and when he lapsed into unconsciousness they took him down, woke him up and continued interrogating him. This cycle of hanging and release was repeated several times before he was allowed to leave. Many other people would be caught, tortured and arrested under suspicion of being in cahoots with the Bender family, or being a Bender. However it is not known whether the Bender family themselves were ever caught. Bounties were put on their heads, and although several groups claimed to have captured and killed the Bender’s (one saying they burnt Kate at the stake for being a witch and murderer), none ever claimed the reward. Many of the remains found on the property were never identified or claimed and were reburied near to where they were discovered. As a final twist, it turns out that Ma and Pa Bender might not have been married, but rather John and Kate were!

#The Bloody Benders #serial killer #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

What about Jon, crying frustrated tears back either pre Canon or in S1 and Tim comforting him and helping out until the breakdown has passed, contrasted with Jon, crying frustrated tears either from being so overwhelmed or from something Tim did in seasons 2/3????

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581069

Finally! Sorry it took so long!! <3

It was cold. Of course it was, it had to be to protect the documents packed in boxes floor to ceiling all around and everywhere he looked there were more and there was no way he could do this!

Inhale, exhale. Calm down.

He’d have to remember to bring a spare jumper so he could work because as it was now his fingers were too numb to work properly and when he tucked them under his arms it only made him feel worse. Made him feel small and alone. Reminded him of a lonely childhood.

Stop it.

But Jon didn’t know where to begin. He could pretend. He could keep his assistants busy with real work, that wasn’t a problem but what was he to do? What did an Archivist do, really? Archive? Organize? How? When everything was a giant, muddled mess filed, a generous term, in no real order or catalogue he’d been able to understand. It was all just.

Overwhelming.

A splash of wet warmth collided with his wrist and embarrassed, Jon scrubbed hastily at the tears streaming down his cheeks. This was, he was stupid. Stupid. He should be able to handle this. At the end of the day, wasn’t it just shuffling papers around? Putting them in some semblance of order that only had to make sense to him? It had certainly worked for Gertrude. The sorrow and frustration came anyway, falling from his eyes and heating his skin and he was so caught up in his own discomfort that by the time he processed someone entering his office, it was too late to hide.

He tried anyway.

“Oh, Tim. Yes. Wh’what can I do for you?” It was a useless misdirection; Tim was sharp eyed and protective and honestly, it was a relief to see him because if Jon was going to continue crying (and it didn’t seem like he would be stopping anytime soon) there was no one better.

“Jon? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” And the tears which he’d managed to slow, came back full force and Jon tucked his chin to his chest and shook. “Ah, hey now, can’t be as bad as all that.” Gentle, Tim tugged him close, holding him around his shoulders and allowing him to bury his hot face in his stomach. “You’re alright. Whatever it is, we’ll help, okay, Boss?” A palm swept up and down the seam of his spine. “We’re a team! We can do anything if we’re together.” Jon pulled in a hitched and shuddery breath, nodding resolutely. Tim allowed him a few more quiet moments before ushering him out of his office where Martin and Sasha were certainly not waiting for them. Martin approached first, compassion shining clear in his expression, and took up his hands.

“You're freezing! Here, come with me. I’ll make you some tea and get you warmed up straight away.” Martin would hear nothing of his protests, pulling him gently away to the breakroom, warm fingers curled around his own. Just this once, Jon would let it happen, the reassuring glow of being surrounded by friends soothing the remnants of panic that had overwhelmed him so thoroughly before Tim found him. They were speaking easily around him about nothing important and Jon let himself drift in the current of their familiar voices.

It was cold down here. And dark, though Jon could See just fine, like he couldn’t hear them but Knew they were searching and feared the worst, that he’d gone hunting in the streets for first-hand accounts of terror. He welcomed the chill seeping its way beneath his skin, numbing his fingers and toes. It meant some part of him was at least close to human.

He reveled in the weird, sharp hunger that gnawed on tender nerves, appreciated the gravity of it and let himself sink into the deep, syrupy ache. He's on the brink. Can feel it in the heavy throbbing in his chest, behind his heart, taking up every empty space and making it difficult to breathe. The weight of his mistakes he supposed, a breadcrumb path he could follow all the way back, beginning with accepting the Head Archivist position instead of walking away. Then again, he’d never known when to stop and that didn’t seem like it was going to change anytime soon; that need for answers, to understand, to connect every dot, to soothe the sting of losing all his friends in favor of embracing a monster.

But Lord he missed them and they were right there. They just weren’t there for him anymore and he had only himself to blame.

Jon doesn’t ask for comfort, he’d be the first to admit he didn’t deserve any and is...content he thinks is the word, to wait until Tim and Martin and Melanie and Daisy and Basira decide he’s suffered enough to prove his worth and let him back in. It was cold down here. It was colder alone and the temptation to give in was so strong if only because he’d be warm again and he’s so, so tired of being lonely.

But he could get something nearly as good. Recognition that something happened to him, that he was still here, still Jon even if he was unwanted, there was enough of him left to hate. He knew how to be that. He'd always been that. Static, now always a low, persistent hum in the back of his mind, shoved forward suddenly with the Knowledge that Tim had decided to look in the tunnels.

Tim wanted to hurt him and he wanted to be hurt. To let it assuage the guilt even for a moment.

Jon already Knows he's spoiling for a fight.

Of course he was the one who would find Jon. Arse is mere meters down the tunnel and leaning with his back against the wall, arms hanging loose over knobby knees and looking for all the world like someone had kicked his puppy.

And what right did he have when he was the cause of all this fear and paranoia and death.

“Tim.” Bland recognition and it sent a shiver racing up his spine because it wasn’t like he had to turn and check, not with his spooky powers. No. He just knew everything now, didn’t he? How convenient. Tim could barely reconcile the figure in front of him with the friend who used to work with him in Research. This Jon was a slip of a man. An intruder he didn’t know and didn’t want to know. This Jon was lies and secrets and silvery scars mapping out the tragedy he’d led them all into willingly in his search for more and more and more. Damn the consequences, never content to let things be. No. This Jon was disorder and disarray, wild curls and no tie and the buttons leading up to his rust stained collar undone. There was dirt caked under the nails of his unbandaged hand and cobweb mingling with the premature grey in his hair and the nervous, twitching energy, the inability to stay still, conspicuously absent.

This Jon was a stranger who didn’t care who he harmed.

This Jon threw them all away like they were less than rubbish and the only way Tim could stomach interacting with him was behind a mask of contempt and hostility.

“Thought you’d be out looking for victims.” Involuntarily his lips curled up in a sneer.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Meticulously enunciated and condescending, strange eyes fixed to the wall in front of him. It angered him that Jon wouldn’t look at him. He could at least have the decency to look him in the face when he lied to him.

“Why are you down here anyway? Hiding? Plotting?” Jon snarled in response, low and dark, brows knitted in scorn.

“And what business is that of yours?” Bare more than a keen hiss and all Tim heard was an invitation to the party because it was so much easier on his conscience to paint Jon as deserving rather than admit he might be as much a victim here as the rest of them. Such a convenient target to aim at, to focus the knife edged anger and rage and agony at and Jon is so good at pushing every button. It was like he wanted this. Wanted to fight.

“Someone has to keep track of you and your secrets! Your lies!” Tim closed his eyes and tugged on his hair. “They’re killing us and you don’t even care!”

“You don’t know that.” Well now he had his attention and the flash of unnatural viridian had to be a trick, a reflection.

“I don’t need supernatural powers to know you!” He saw the hit land in the way Jon’s expression slipped and Tim felt good, the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins was heady and strong. “You’re running. From everything. And it all started when you began running from us.”

“I’m not.” At this point, Tim wasn’t sure Jon was capable of standing because surely he wouldn’t take this sitting in the dust and he didn’t care. This was the most he’d felt since this all began. He didn’t want to give it up. Not yet. Not before he’d made Jon understand.

“You're not even trying!” He spat, watching his shaking hands curl into fists, watching shadows soak into the bandages. “You just let things happen to you--”

“Oh yes, Tim!” Hurling his name like a curse, Jon stared up at him, narrow chest heaving fast. “I just let the Circus have me. I just let Daisy beat me unconscious and threaten to put me down.” For a moment, Tim thought he saw tears glittering on his face. “What do you know about how hard I'm trying?” The whole of him was shaking now, trembling as he sucked down noisy breaths. “Always sulking about this place! Maybe if you’d been paying better attention you’d have noticed Sasha was gone!” He collapsed against the wall, lazy grin carving up his face. Like he’d won the game. Landed the finished blow. “You may claim to know me. But clearly, you never knew her.” Lunging with a hoarse cry, Tim snatched him up by his collar, so close to the healing slash crusted with old blood bisecting his throat.

He only smiled wider. Manic. Frantic. Fingers grasping automatically at his wrists and Tim could feel sticky warmth marking his arm.

"Go on then! I know you want to.” Jon was whispering, words tripping over themselves in his haste to spit them out. “You can't stand me. Just like Daisy can't stand me. You want this. I Know yo--"

An echoing crack followed after the back of Tim’s hand collided with Jon’s mouth.

Replaced soon after by blessed quiet broken only by Jon’s harsh and strangled panting.

Tim dropped him back to the floor. Shaken. Disgusted. He didn’t know with whom. Maybe both of them.

"You never shut up."

Jon tongued the cut on his lip while Tim watched a bead of ruby so dark it was almost black roll down his chin and drip down onto the white fabric of his rumpled dress shirt where it would dry and age and match the rest that was there before whatever this was. He didn’t bother wiping it away.

“Feel better?”

“You know I don’t.”

Shaking out his hand, Tim collapsed beside him in silence, staring resolutely ahead, lips pressed thin until Jon’s head tipped slowly forward, chin coming to rest on his collarbone and smudging more red. Even in his peripheral vision Tim recognized it for what it was and knew if he looked properly he’d see tears steadily falling from his damned eyes despite how hushed he remained. He peeked anyway, witnessed him cave in and bring arms up to hug himself in a desperate bid to hold his pieces together. But he doesn't look at Tim. Doesn't reach for him like he used to.

"I am trying." He whispered, voice immeasurably limned with exhaustion.

Like a switch had been flipped, he was Jon again. Tired and drawn. Overwhelmed and lost and isolated. Tipped so far over the edge he goaded Tim into striking him because it was the best he could expect. Because at least he had Tim's full attention for a moment. And Tim walked right into it, led easily like a moth to a flame.

What a pair they made here at what might be the end of all things.

Troubled, Tim pulled him roughly into his side, hardening his heart against the whimper of pain and the stiffening of his entire body. Jon was skin and bone. Had dropped at least two stone he couldn't afford to lose. Tim had watched it happen and done nothing.

There were no apologies exchanged and when Tim dragged him stumbling into the light of the Archives, no one commented on the split lip or the new bruise or the blood dried and flaking that traced his jaw.

Jon was just a stranger.

No one cared if he'd been harmed.

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #tim stoker #depression #anxiety #bad mental health #self harm #in the way of asking for it #tim slaps him #angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #jon is in a bad way #he doesn't know what to do about it

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zalrb · 4 years ago

Note

hmm maybe you could just rank them according to your personal preference?? i think it would be a little different from the other one right

Sure! I’m sticking to canon ships.

1. Stelena

I have an entire masterlist dedicated to why Stelena is number 1.

2. Forwood

Oh, Forwood:

Caroline and Tyler were fundamentally altered because of their supernatural conditions and that shift was the basis of their relationship. Becoming a vampire empowered Caroline, she had a sense of strength that she never had, she was confident and centred, she became everything she wasn’t in season 1,

which allowed her to be emotional support for Tyler

who, because of the werewolf curse, became everything he wasn’t in season 1 too: humble and vulnerable and grateful for assistance

and that allowed him to actually take the emotional support from Caroline

so they actually grew together through this time, complementing each other and seeing different sides of their personalities, surprising each other even though they’d known each other since childhood.

And also no one gives Tyler credit for being a loving, whipped boyfriend

and like

and just look at them

I don’t care what anyone says, this is such a cute exchange

3. Stebekah/Steferine

I put them together because which one I prefer more depends on the day. I like Stebekah because they’re dark and there was a lot of potential there:

I think that Katherine unfairly gets credit for the second half of a Dark Stefan ship. Every time Stefan has been rebellious or dark and has had a woman at his side, it’s been Rebekah such as in the 20s:

And such as season 4. When Stefan was just tired of all the Delena and Defan and triangle bullshit and was like fuck it, I’m doing something for me, I don’t care if it’s a bad decision, he went to Rebekah for some crazy sex with a crazy ass vampire:

So I think Rebekah has insight into the depraved, dark, deviant Stefan because she relishes it with him

I like Steferine a) because of Dobsley chemistry b) because I find their dynamic interesting

[Steferine is] the one ship that the show portrays the baggage and the hurt and the sort of inescapability of certain connection quite well although it’s not emphasized so I wonder if they actually portrayed it well on purpose? But anyway.

The reason why I think it’s done well is because I think the relationship contradicts the idea that loving someone is always good, Katherine’s “love”/obsession with Stefan in fact continuously destroys him and hurts him […] She is more in love with the idea of Stefan loving her than she actually is with Stefan. That’s why she hijacks Elena’s body in season 5 and attempts to seduce him because let’s think about that. Katherine hijacked the body of a woman she hates and tries to seduce Stefan as that woman, a woman whose break up with him was a trigger for his PTSD, a woman who was in a relationship with his brother and she doesn’t think or care about how seducing him as this woman would fuck with his head:

It’s also why in season 2 she threatens to kill Elena while Stefan watches because it doesn’t matter if he’s scarred or hurt, what matters is owning him:

And Stefan knows that about Katherine and yet Katherine knows Stefan’s psychology, she knows how his mind works, she knows which ways to get through to him:

and that creates a lot of tension for Stefan and you see it because it’s like, “you legit ruined my life though, like you completely fucked with my head, fucked with my life, I hate you, like I legit hate you”

and yet, AND YET, I can’t help but be of comfort when you’re in need

and as much as I hate you, when you’re around there’s just, there’s this thing (because Stefan always looks like he’s a half-step away from having hate sex with her)

At the same time, Stefan is never able to let Katherine in completely

And he also experiences catharsis by being able to torture her in season 2 then kill her in season 5 and despite dying with her, killing her again in season 8, he gets to continuously avenge himself which other victims on TVD don’t get to do

4. Beremy

Here is the thing about Beremy and my opinion on them is definitely framed by the fact that I now know that the only other relationship Bonnie is really in is with Enzo and I think Bonenzo is bullshit, but the thing about Beremy is that Jeremy goes hard for her (especially in season 2) and I don’t think that’s quite acknowledged.

I definitely think that Kat deserved a better screen partner because Steve didn’t really have much of a presence onscreen

but I do think his lack of presence is also why a lot of good and cute Beremy scenes go unnoticed.

and I don’t think their chemistry was bad, like it’s not Grahamwood chemistry, it’s not Somergraham chemistry but it’s not like Steroline flat or Delena cringey, it’s decent:

like their first kiss is a good first kiss

and I’ve also said that they’re at their best when they do angst, that’s where they live. It’s not Stelena angst or Forwood angst but it’s pretty good angst

The way Enzo is supposed to love Bonnie, I think we actually see with Bonnie and Jeremy

Jeremy is this puny pre-hunter human but he goes into the tomb for the moonstone so Bonnie won’t have to use her magic.

In 2x18 when it was all don’t tell Elena that Bonnie will die trying to take down Klaus, Jeremy essentially chose Bonnie by telling Stefan what was going to happen.

Like look at the way he smiles here:

but the writers really fucked this over: And here’s the thing about that. I can understand the fact that Jeremy never really got closure from Anna and that seeing your girlfriend get dragged out, screaming, by cops and knowing that your uncle killed her would be traumatic. But it’s like JP wanted to humiliate Bonnie with this triangle because first of all, Bonnie is the only character who’s been cheated on and not only are the overall stakes of the show super low for the consequence of Bonnie using her magic to be Jeremy being able to see his ex-girlfriends, it’s a petty way to punish Bonnie. Moreover, it’s not just that Jeremy kissed Anna, it’s not even just that he’d been talking to her and essentially having an emotional affair with her, it’s that he degrades his relationship to Bonnie for Anna and when Bonnie finds out, Jeremy legit couldn’t give a fuck and he does nothing to get her back and he’s just never apologetic about it, not toward Bonnie anyway and then it just gets to the fact that Jeremy has a tendency to only care about the women he dates when they’re about to die and it’s just, I understand why the whole Anna situation keeps people from shipping them or giving Beremy the time of day.

5. Maroline

OK Maroline gets a lot of flack and it’s not that I don’t understand why and it’s not like they didn’t have issues but 1) their coming together was organic and on a show like TVD, having two people come together organically is actually pretty rare, it’s basically Stelena, Forwood and Maroline. I enjoyed the fact that despite being opposites, they found emotional common ground, they bonded over the fact that they were both lonely and they both felt isolated and they were both desperately seeking someone to love them

and their respective stories support this interaction

it’s not just something that’s said to be said, we see Matt’s life, we see him have no parents, we see him to the best of his ability try and keep tabs on Vicki, who is dead but he thinks she bailed, we see Elena fall in love with someone else right in front of him, we see Caroline’s abusive relationship with Damon, we see her insecurities from Day One in the pilot but their bond didn’t just stay at them wanting company, they actually had fun spending time together, they actually liked each other

and I liked that it was no pretense, I liked that it was Family Guy and junk food. You know, Klaroline ha the champagne and the ball gowns, Forwood would just “be” a lot, you know, they were the enjoying each other’s silence kind of ship, Steroline as a couple .... but Matt and Caroline, like, hung out and I liked that.

2) They were super realistic for a teenage relationship and I respect that. Like this is so high school

I remember being 16 and doing things to “test” my boyfriend or the guy that I liked, I remember my guy friends being reluctant to express liking a girl because of what their friends would say, I remember being a teenager and just doing teenage things, which is what Maroline did,

I don’t fault them for that, and yes, in season 1, Matt would be like, we’re not going to last etc.

and I don’t blame people for being put off by that, I wasn’t because it’s pretty 16/17-year old boy but you also see how that doesn’t seem to be what he actually thinks

and we see that expand in season 2

which is why the infamous Mattlena hug scene in 1x17 had me, like, the writing is just contradicting itself now because in 1x16, we have this out where Matt explain being over Elena and seeing her as a friend and at peace with the fact that she loves Stefan because he’s into Caroline so having Caroline look in on them again was like, we’ve already covered this especially since it’s not consistent after 1x17 either.

Like the whole thing is that she can be exasperating --- and people forget that Caroline actually can be exasperating, she made an offhand classist remark about Bonnie liking the bus boy, which Matt overheard, she was dealing with vampirism and Tyler’s transformation but Matt didn’t know anything about that so she just came across to him as hot and cold, he didn’t have context --- but he loved her anyway

With regards to when he finds out she’s a vampire, I like how people are more pressed about Matt being involved in trying to take her down when he has no frame of reference for vampires other than the fact that one killed his sister and they’re not like, wow Liz, that’s your daughter, but I also like how as they ‘grow up’ and become entrenched in the Supernatural, despite the fact that Matt consistently says he wants nothing to do with it, both of them look out for each other

6. Klaroline

I’m pretty indifferent to Klaroline, I don’t have strong feelings about them but I have maintained that they are better than Delena

Even Klaroline does a better job with that dynamic and those kinds of arguments than Delena because you see Caroline be like “I can’t do this, why the fuck am I even here?” every time they’re together

the dynamic DE was supposed to have better, the “fiery” “passionate” thing works for them because they know how to argue and because they play up the conflict

I’ve also maintained they have good chemistry: and yet their chemistry begins winning me over in the scene and I think what really sells it is that Candice reacts to the phone call in a way I’ve only seen Caroline react to Klaus and it’s this sort of… she catches her breath/is stunned

I have a vid that’s basically just of their gazes because they’re always charged, they have a very seductive chemistry and it suits their dynamic because the more Caroline interacts with Klaus, the more she’s drawn to him and that shows with the kind of chemistry they have where, as someone who is quite indifferent to their dynamic, the more they interact onscreen the more I want them to remain onscreen, I start off unimpressed (much like Caroline) and move toward being engaged (again like Caroline) and like I said, they do their dynamic well too, Caroline’s annoyed-but-charmed and Klaus’ arrogant-but-charming

(although their physical chemistry is not great) I just don’t think they have any real narrative.

7. Simara

This is purely about Dobsley chemistry: I have spoken about Silas and Amara quite a bit actually, but honestly, mostly in relation to the chemistry between Paul and Nina because I think that the SIlas and Amara storyline is textually weak and it felt rushed, there isn’t much nuance so I don’t find their story particularly tragic because we didn’t spend enough time on it but I still find them tragic because of how Paul and Nina played the tragedy.

Like it was a storyline that just let Paul and Nina do their magic onscreen,

they didn’t have to try to undercut it with dialogue or anything so I appreciate Simara because I love seeing Nina and Paul working together but in terms of the content, I’m like I don’t really care.

Last: Delena/Bonenzo/Steroline

You can look at the masterlists!

#stelena #forwood #maroline #beremy #stebekah #steferine #simara #the vampire diaries #tvd

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dear-yandere · 5 years ago

Text

adhuc hominum.

tw. slightly nsfw, just ej being a creep. || word count. 1.2k

Eyeless Jack

You slept soundly in those pristine white duvets of yours, nary a worry in the world. All the windows and doors were locked shut, residents more than aware of the existence of an infamous, cannibalistic killer on the loose -- all but one.

You.

The entrances to your room were left absentmindedly unlocked, practically welcoming unwanted visitors inside your sanctuary. Long hours of cramming for an upcoming exam had resulted in hitting the soft comforters to quickly fall under sleep’s restful watch -- windows agape and door ajar.

Wrong move.

It was as if the fates had conspired against you tonight -- or at least, your teachers.

Your window shifted open almost soundlessly thanks to deft, gloved fingers, enough for the unknown figure to climb through. If you weren’t out cold, you would’ve heard his nearly-inaudible entrance along with the crickets loudly chirping through the night. Rather, you simply shifted to your side, the sound of your sheets and pillow lightly creasing enough to pique the murderer’s attention -- you had yet to wake up, much to his relief. He’d hate to abduct you earlier than intended, or worse, dissect and kill you lest you squeal for help or alert authorities of his most recent whereabouts.

Unlike his other victims, he couldn’t blame you in particular -- he would have done the same in your position. Alas, you were blissfully unaware of your secret admirer, even when he paid you weekly visits that became increasingly impatient nightly visits. Sometimes you made it easy on him and left your windows open like tonight, almost as if you were expecting him. The thought would have warmed his heart if he didn’t know any better.

An eyeless gaze locked onto your silhouette just lying there – taunting him. A smirk crawled onto his face like a persistent insect as his fingers fiddled with the trusty scalpel, dying to plunge it into fresh flesh and sate his hunger.

But he had to control himself. Not you, anyone but you -- there were plenty of other humans to feed on.

He took his sweet time running his gaze over your room, noting how much messier it seemed today. Clothes, dishes, and video games were scattered across the floor, countless stacks of open-yet-forgotten textbooks placed upon that small desk of yours. You’d been cramming. If only he could lend a hand -- he only wanted what’s best for you, after all.

Brushing his useless and pining thoughts aside, his gaze fell on your form again in an almost adoring manner, but a stray garment was enough to steal his attention -- pink panties, casually strewn atop your blanket as if to tease him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume you purposely left your lingerie out for his viewing pleasure.

Not that he was complaining. Were you sleeping without underwear? He was tempted to peel away your blankets and check -- to at least catch a glimpse of your body without having to hide in the shadows.

But that would only wake you earlier than expected.

He hesitated, fingers twitching around the freshly-sterilized scalpel before finally relaxing. Despite himself, those pink panties soon found themselves stuffed into a crevice of his ebony lab coat. A souvenir -- he deserved that much for not taking your organs and for protecting you from other factions, right?

He sighed, much preferring to kill you instead of awaiting the day someone might eventually hurt or take you from him. Death was better than living in such filthy world filled with monsters beyond your wildest imagination, monsters that could hardly agree amongst themselves. He was practically doing you a favor in his own twisted way. Musings on how he would end your life with his own hands -- feasting on those delectable kidneys invading his thoughts against his better wishes -- briefly crossed his mind.

His thoughts had distracted him entirely, failing to notice the textbook jutting out from the corner of your desk. The tome fell once his hip brushed against it, haplessly tumbling over the side of your carrel and onto the floor, disrupting the tranquility of the night. He cursed under his breath, waiting for your eyes to snap open and for your lips to part with a scream.

...

Nothing.

You merely flinched in your rest -- nothing more, nothing less, before slow and steady breaths filled the room once again. If his heart still beat, it would be racing with both elation at the thought of ending your life and fear of having to take that very life in the first place. Lifting his leg once again, only this time does he actually make sure to not bump into anything else. It was unlike him to be so careless, his movements normally silent and swift, but you always had a trance-like effect on him. Luckily his mistake had not resulted in an untimely death. Cautiously eyeing your covered body, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, chuckling awfully low to himself considering how vulnerable you looked from his perspective. He could kill you at any moment, just like he could spare your life like he’s done countless nights now.

Blissfully unaware, you were completely at his disposal.

With a toneless sigh, he sauntered over to your bedside and knelt, navy blue mask inches away from your beautifully ignorant face. He often felt jealousy well within him every time his ‘eyes’ landed on your mien, wishing his face was not nearly as grotesque -- wishing he was no longer a monster. Instead, his black attire and inky tears which hid the face even he didn’t want to look at easily blended into the darkness, like the monster he forced himself to be. Black-gloved fingers lifted the mask slightly, grey lips and sharp teeth visible amidst the darkness. His tongues slide across his bottom lip at the sight of a perfectly-fresh meal right before his eyes -- but he caught himself, reluctantly.

Not you, anyone but you, he reminded.

Chewing on his bottom lip, the disgusting yet fleshy appeal of his own skin enough to curb his appetite for a few minutes longer, he lifted his mask further, allowing himself an uncovered view of your beauty. If only you knew how the effect you had on him had saved your life countless times already.

He hadn’t meant to, knowing full well that he didn’t have any right to do so, but his fingers gently brushed over your cheek, relishing in the warmth his own body had relinquished long ago. Envy, lust -- love. He hardly understood these feelings despite once feeling these emotions untethered, a distant memory from decades ago.

In the brief moments he allowed himself to touch your skin without intent to steal or ravage, you made him feel alive, made him feel mortal, made him feel human again. You could never be food, at least not in good conscience; rather, your very existence was a lifeline, a reminder that he still had some ounce of humanity left within him.

As if in protest, he felt the thin tether of his restraint wane, signaling it was time to go. If only being with you, even if you were unaware, wasn’t so brief. If only it could last forever.

Noiselessly, he straightened himself, gaze never once leaving your body.

“I’ll take you with me soon, my love. Just wait a little longer…”

title meaning. human again || alt title. clean your room -- sincerely, ej.

#ej x reader #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack imagine #eyeless jack #yandere eyeless jack #yandere eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta x reader #yandere creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #*oneshot #vanyue

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ningningsdream · 5 years ago

Text

gone | n.jaemin

Pairing: jaemin x reader

Genre: fluff, angst ( more sad )

Word count: 4.1k

Summary: in which jaemin lost his best friend and you seem to run into him a lot. grieving is a really complex process, maybe you can help him through it.

Warning(s): mention of death and suicide (i have a pov on suicide that can be controversial (?) i hope i am not offending or triggering any one)

main masterlist

jaemin cried that night, he cried all the tears in his body, he blamed himself for what happened and he didn’t know if he could forgive himself one day.

that night, him and his best friend were hanging out at his dorm pretty late and when the time came for her to go home, jaemin walked her to the bus stop, asking her if she wanted him to take the bus with her but she denied saying, “you’re not going to take the bus with me and immediately take another bus back, plus it’s late so there will probably be no bus for you to come back.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m going to be fine, don’t worry.”, she said but something was still bothering him. something in his guts was telling him to not let her leave but her sweet smile and words convinced him to let her step into that bus.

letting her go that night was the worst mistake of his life.

“forty-five minutes ago, two buses crashed into each other, creating a large commotion in the middle of the road. we actually don’t know what caused it and how many people were in each bus but some victims have already been brought to the hospital…”, the journalist’s voice coming from the hospital’s tv became more and more distant to jaemin as he sat on the waiting room’s chair with his best friend’s family.

jaemin eyes’ immediately shot up as he heard a doctor call for his best friend’s family, “we are really sorry, the blood loss was too important and one of her vital organs was stabbed. we tried our best but it wasn’t enough, we are deeply sorry for your loss.”

jaemin still remembered her mom’s cries, he still remembered how her father came to him and told him that it wasn’t his fault, he still remembered how he felt his heart drop in his stomach, he lost her…

the funeral happened a few days later, jaemin just felt numb during the entirety of it until he had to make his speech. Standing there and talking about his deceased best friend, made everything more real, she was gone and he was there. he hated it. he stopped himself, feeling the emotions coming back, “i’m sorry, i can’t do this…”, jaemin ran away from the situation, he ran away from the funeral, he ran away not wanting to accept the fact that his best friend was gone forever.

ever since, jaemin was not the same anymore, he talked less, his smile disappeared, he didn’t go out at all. even months after his best friends’ death he could never forget about her. in college, people started to talk about the accident and many looked at jaemin in pity every time they saw him. he became ‘the guy who lost his best friend in the tragic bus accident’.

you, you were a normal student at SM University, one day you were running late for your first-morning class, you probably shouldn’t have let your friend dragged you to that party last night, especially because you hated parties but since you didn’t want her to go on her own you accepted to come with her which resulted in you carrying her back to your shared dorm at three in the morning because she was too drunk. you were too focused on balancing the books and notebooks in your arms that you didn’t notice that you were running straight into someone until it was too late.

“oh my god i am so sorry.”, you apologized as you tried to gather your things on the ground.

“it’s okay.”, the guy answered as he handed you your notebooks before walking away.

you’ve never seen him before but you would lie if you said you didn’t find him attractive. you ran to your class, making it just in time.

the next day in your literature class, you were just zoning out, looking around the auditorium. your eyes landed on the guy you bumped into the day before, how come you’ve never noticed him?

the day after that one, you walked into literature class with two cups of iced coffee in your hands. you walked to the guy you didn’t even know the name of and put it on his table, “ hey, uhm…sorry for bumping into you the other day, take this as an official apology. i didn’t know what you usually order so i just ordered a normal iced americano coffee. i hope it’s okay. have a good day.”, you smiled before walking to your original seat next to your best friend.

“what was that?”, she asked you as soon as you sat down.

“what was what?”

“how do you know na jaemin?”

“who?”

“the guy you just gave a free coffee to?”

“oh i don’t know him. i just ran into him like literally bumped into him full speed the other day because i was late.”, you explained to her.

her eyes looked at jaemin with a sad expression on her face, “i kind of feel bad for him…”

“why?”, you asked, confused by her statement.

“you don’t know?”

“know what?”, you asked her even more confused now.

“remember the bus accident a few months ago?”, she reminded you and you nodded, telling her to continue, “his best friend was one of the victims.”

your eyebrows raised in shock. the feeling of losing a best friend just in the blink of an eye was terrible and you knew how it felt all too well.

“come on, jaemin, let’s go, this once, pleaseeee!!!”, donghyuck, jaemin’s friend pleaded him.

“no, i don’t want to. just go with renjun.”, jaemin answered with his usual tone.

“jaemin-aaah, please!!”, donghyuck pleaded again, pushing and pulling jaemin’s arm with a pout on his face.

“jaemin-ah please, you also need to go out for a bit. we understand that you need time but it’s been long enough for you to at least step out of here to go somewhere else than uni, don’t you think?”, renjun wisely said to jaemin.

jaemin sighed and finally gave in to it, “fine, i’ll come.”

that was how he found himself in a frat house party with drunk people all over the place, slowly regretting his decision. he went into the kitchen to grab a drink and didn’t even take the first sip that a girl already started to flirt with him. he tried to tell her that he wasn’t interested but she was persistent. he finally got rid of her by quickly loosing her in the crowd of people dancing. jaemin was never really fond of parties, he much rather stay at home but he had been doing that for the past few months and would still be in his bed if it wasn’t for renjun and donghyuck. The two boys had been helping him ever since that night, it hurt them to see their roommate and friend like that.

jaemin made his way upstairs trying to find a peaceful place to stay until his friends wanted to go home. he opened a few doors being cursed with images that he didn’t need to see before spotting a balcony behind glass doors. there was already someone on it though. there goes his chance to be at peace, he thought until the person turned sideways and he recognized the girl who bumped into him and gave him a free coffee afterward.

he hesitated, not knowing if he should go talk to her or not because he really didn’t want to go back to the party or take his chance on one of those rooms again. he took a deep breath and opened the door, coming out on the balcony, “hey, uhm, sorry for disturbing your peace.”

“it’s okay, jaemin? right?”, you asked a little surprised by his presence, “i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you, properly.”, jaemin replied, leaning on the railing of the balcony next to you.

“how are you enjoying this party?”, you asked looking at the night sky and buildings in front of you.

“i’m not really a party guy.”

“yeah i feel you, parties are not really my things. people are too loud.”

“it sure is hard to find a quiet place with a party going on.”

“did you ran into the ‘couples’ in the rooms?”

“yeah…i regret coming, i’ve seen…things that i wish i didn’t.”, he said, shuddering at the unwanted memories.

you started laughing, a hand in front of your mouth, “noob, rule number one to ‘finding a quiet place during a party’: don’t even try to find an empty room, there’s none, i learned that the hard way. there are too many butts that i can’t wipe off of my memor-”, you were interrupted by a really really loud moan, coming from one of the rooms.

jaemin and you looked at each other with wide eyes before bursting out laughing. that was the first time he truly smiled after a long time and it felt good. you two kept talking about yourselves, college, your friends…it was a pretty good late-night conversation type of things and jaemin enjoyed it a lot even though he didn’t realized it yet.

the next few days, you and jaemin coincidentally ran into each other more often, at the coffee shop, in the hallway, and especially when you were late. your clumsy self would always either make something fall or just trip on thin air but jaemin was always there, almost seemed like fate.

your many encounters had naturally made you and jaemin closer, he sat next to you and your best friend now in literature, you ordered your coffee together and hung out with each other. your friend group and jaemin’s naturally started to hang out together too, you all becoming one ‘big’ group of friends.

jaemin was more and more outgoing, he would crack a smile from time to time, he was doing better…but was he okay? not all the time. he had his moments of break down and he would think about her again. every time it happened, he would shut everyone out. one day, your group of friends was all supposed to hang out but as the boys joined you and the other girls, you didn’t see jaemin with them and when you asked them about him they just told you that he wasn’t feeling well. you didn’t think much of it at first but when the next morning you saw jaemin with slightly puffy eyes barely noticeable, you knew he had been crying the night before.

the second time it happened you didn’t let it slide. you told renjun and donghyuck that you were going to see jaemin, leaving the two with the rest of the group. donghyuck tried to stop you at first but renjun told him to let you try.

as you entered jaemin,donghyuck and renjun’s dorm, you quietly removed your shoes and looked for jaemin’s room. you pressed your ears to each door, trying to figure out which one was jaemin’s room. you knew it was the one when you heard soft sniffles from the other side. you gently knocked on it and waited for an answer, “go away,renjun. i don’t want to talk about it.”

“not renjun, sorry to disappoint you.”, you gently said, opening the door and slipping into the room. you saw jaemin sitting on his bed, arms hugging his knees to his chest and head in them. you removed your jacket and put it on his desk chair as he glanced at you for a few seconds before burying his head in his arms again. it broke your heart to see him like that. you slowly made your way to his bed, not wanting to invade his space too much, and sat next to him. you wondered what to do for a moment, not wanting to cross any boundaries. you didn’t really know how to verbally comfort someone, you were more of a physical comforter so you ran your hand through his hair gently. it seemed to calm him down as a few minutes later, he raised his head and put his chin on his arms, looking at you with bloodshot eyes. you gave him a soft smile and said, “want a hug?”, you opened your arms and he surprisingly accepted. it felt weird to hug jaemin like that, not a bad weird but a good weird. you’ve hug jaemin before but those hugs were more of a quick see-you-later hug while this hug right now was long and meaningful. your hug quickly turned into a cuddling session as you lied under his covers with his head snuggling in the crook of your neck, his arms around your waist and one of your hands brushing through his hair, lulling him to sleep.

after that event, you spent more time at their dorm and you and jaemin would hang out together when the others went out partying. your movie nights became a casual week thing. even if the others weren’t going out, movie nights were still going on because jaemin will throw a fit if you canceled movie night.

jaemin began to smile a lot more and became more and more clingy like he used to be which didn’t go unnoticed by donghyuck and renjun. his friends were glad to see him slowly being himself again and they knew that they’d have to thank you for that. his breakdowns were less and less frequent but you would sometimes find yourself cuddling with him his bed for no reason at all. you even spent some nights there, nothing dirty though, i see yall dirty minds and renjun and donghyuck were thinking the same when they saw you one morning, coming out of jaemin’s room in one of his shirts with no pants on. in reality, you just needed something to sleep in and you hated wearing pants when you were sleeping. their misunderstanding made you and jaemin laugh but you couldn’t deny the way your heart beat faster around him.

you thought everything was going to be fine until one friday. jaemin wasn’t at the coffee shop, neither was he in literature. he wasn’t answering any of your text or calls. you started to worry, a lot. when you ran into renjun and donghyuck after your classes you asked them where jaemin was. they gave each other a look before one of them said, “he isn’t…feeling well today…”

“is he sick or something?”

“no, it’s…something else.”, donghyuck answered, trying to not spill to much.

based on the look on their face, you knew what was happening so you ran to their dorm. you were right, jaemin was curled up on his bed as you heard soft cries coming from him. you put your jacket on his desk chair as usual and slipped under his covers, back hugging him. you didn’t want to say anything until he was ready to talk.

“her birthday…it’s tomorrow.”, jaemin managed to say after some time, “she should have been there still. i shouldn’t have let her go on that bus. it’s my fault.”

“it’s not your fault.”, you said, giving him a kiss on his shoulder.

jaemin turned around and looked at you with his puffy eyes, “don’t say that, everyone has been telling me that but you’re all wrong. i could’ve done something. i shouldn’t have let her go on that bus in the first place.”

“listen to me jaemin. you didn’t know what was going to happen okay? it is not your fault. it was an accident, something that you couldn’t control. i know how you feel right now but it’s not going to bring her back.”

“don’t talk like you know how i feel.”

“trust me, i know.”, jaemin tried to decipher your expression in no vail.

you turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. there it was. the conversation you knew you two were going to have sooner or later, “more than a year and a half ago now, my childhood best friend killed himself…”, the words left a dry feeling in your throat. jaemin felt the waves of emotions taking over you and took your hand in comfort, “his life was…complicated and…messy. added to the anxiety and stress of college life, along with the pressure of society he couldn’t take it anymore.”, you gulped, holding back your tears. it’s been so long since you’ve talked about him. no one really knew about it since you didn’t really like talking about him, “i blamed myself a lot after that, i thought i could’ve been a better friend, that i could’ve done something to prevent it. after that, all i did was staying in bed, crying, barely eating and talking. almost had to repeat my first year of college. i was a mess.”

“how-”, he said, trying to find the right words.

“-did i not end my life after that?”, you finished for him pretty bluntly, “one day, i got my ass out of my bed and looked into the mirror. the person i became was the complete opposite of who i am, i was unrecognizable but i asked myself: what was the point of this? of me, crying my heart out every night? he was gone forever and i couldn’t change that. i realized that he wouldn’t want that for me, he wouldn’t want me to waste my life like this. he didn’t get to live his life to the fullest so i decided that i was going to do this for him, for the both of us. the world failed him but i won’t let it fail me too.”, you pursed your lips, your tears threatening to fall, “he did it for a reason, he couldn’t handle life anymore and i get it, he must be happier wherever he is. i just regret that i wasn’t able to give him a good reason enough to stay, that i wasn’t a good reason enough.”

jaemin put his arms around you, bringing your face in the crook of his neck. your heavy tears rolled down your cheeks but you held yourself back from crying, not knowing if you could stop if you let yourself go, “you’re going to be okay jaemin, it may take some time but you’ll be okay.”, you sniffed, wrapping your arms around him. jaemin pulled back from the hug to grab your face. he wiped your remaining tears away with his thumbs as you gave him a soft smile. he looked at you for a few seconds with that look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher and gave you a peck on the forehead.

the next day, you brought jaemin to the columbarium, where the ashes of his best friend were. you knew that thanks to renjun and donghyuck.

“you ready?”, you asked, looking at jaemin and he nodded. you followed jaemin until he stopped in front of one of the columbarium walls, he looked at one of the squares where were his best friend’s ashes along with multiples pictures of her and her family, even a few of him and her. jaemin smiled nostalgically at the pictures and said, “how are you little one? i hope you’re happy wherever you are, celebrating your birthday maybe.”, jaemin reached out to grab your hand, “i brought a friend, i hope you don’t mind. i miss you. let’s meet in our next life, huh?”

you smiled at him as he turned to look at you, “let’s go get ice cream.”, he said, giving you a little smile.

“i want to show you something first.”, you said, before walking away, tugging on his hand. you stopped in front of another wall, pointing at one square saying, “this was my best friend.”, you looked at his pictures in which he always harbored his famous eye-smile, “look dumbass, i brought a friend.”, you said, lifting your hand holding jaemin’s, “it’s his best friend’s birthday today. if you run into her please make her have a great birthday.”, jaemin looked at you as you talked and found himself smiling fondly of you.

you two went to get ice cream after that and jaemin knew that being with you that particular day made it so much better than it would’ve been if he was alone.

as the days passed by, you noticed jaemin making an effort to get better each and each day. you would lie if you said that you didn’t fell for him harder and harder but you didn’t know if he felt the same way.

“where are you going?”, you asked, cuddling in between jaemin’s covers.

“blind date.”, he sighed, looking at himself in the mirror.

ouch. there goes your chance of him liking you back.

“mmh enjoy.”, jaemin noticed the sarcasm in your voice as it was obvious that you didn’t the idea at all which made him chuckle.

jaemin walked to his bed, and cupped your cheeks in his hands, “don’t worry, i’m going to buy some snacks on the way back and we can still have our movie night.”, he pecked your forehead before walking out of his room.

jaemin was literally dying during the blind date. he only agreed because donghyuck begged him to come. all because donghyuck’s crush was going to be there and it was his only chance. jaemin regretted it now. he would much rather spend his time with you doing absolutely nothing than being there right now. he was more than relief when it ended, he got to get back to you. lately, he found himself longing for the little moments he spent with you. college life was overwhelming and a complete hassle. he only got to see you on movie nights so donghyuck really owed him big time.

as jaemin opened the door of his bedroom, he saw your sleeping figure, cuddling in his covers, his eyes immediately softened at the view. oh boy, was he whipped. he removed his leather jacket and put it on his desk chair. he slipped under the covers, next to you and wrapped his arms around you. you were brought out of your slumber by sudden moves next to you. the familiar scent relaxing your body as you melted into jaemin’s arms, “bad date huh?”, you whispered with a sleepy voice.

“how did you know?”

“you wouldn’t be cuddling another girl if it went well.”

“you’re not just another girl.”, jaemin said, holding you closer to him. you couldn’t hide your smile and you were glad he couldn’t see your face because this boy is making you feel things.

you sat up, slightly hovering over jaemin, “well movie night? what are we watching?”

jaemin propped himself on his elbows, his face suddenly closer to yours, “i was thinking about doing something…”, his fingers brushed the hair in front of your face, tugging it behind your ear, “…else.”, his hand lingered on your jawline then your chin and his thumb brushed against your lips. his eyes glancing from your lips your eyes.

he gulped as you leaned in, stopping at just a few millimeters away from his lips, “something else?”

jaemin was the one to finally close the space between the two of you, your eyes immediately close as your heart started beating really fast. your lips moved together, slowly and gently. jaemin’s hand brushed against your cheek and hair, deepening the kiss. you pulled away for air, pressing your forehead against his, “i- oh-”, you were interrupted by jaemin pulling you his lap as he sat up, “-okay. hey.”, you smiled at him, your hands resting on his shoulders as his were on your waist. you never thought that one day you’d be straddling jaemin in his bed after he went on a bad blind date but you weren’t complaining, “well if you do that every time you come back from a bad date i wouldn’t be against it.”

“mmmh i don’t think i’m going to go on any blind dates anytime soon.”, he said, getting closer to you, face a few centimeters away from yours.

“and why’s that?”, you smirked, sneaking your arms around his neck.

“i think i got all i need right here.”, he said, leaning in to kiss you again. you smiled during the kiss as you ran your hands in his hair, pulling on it slightly, earning a moan from him. the kiss was rougher but still caring, more intense as if you two were waiting for it to happen for a long time.

you pulled away, both of you breathing a bit heavily, “even though this is really…entertaining. movie night is still happening.”, you smiled, making him chuckle.

“first, go on a date with me, please?”, jaemin looked at you with his puppy eyes and lips pouting slightly.

“hmmm, i’ll think about it.”, you smirked, quickly getting off his lap and running away to the living room.

it took some time for jaemin to register your answer and when he finally did, you were already on your feet, running out of his room, “HEY Y/L/N Y/N!!!”, he shouted, running after you with a smile on his face.

#nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #na jaemin #na jaemin scenarios #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin drabbles #na jaemin timestamps #nct jaemin #nct dream jaemin #jaemin

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aviv-kasyanenko · 4 years ago

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NEW YEAR’S EVE 2020 [1 of 3?]:

You’re going to think I enjoyed writing this, but please know that I didn’t.

Date: December 31st, 2020. About 11:30pm. Warnings: Idk, mob stuff. I don’t want to spoil it but if this is too much for you then why are you even here reading Russian shit rn lbr.

Well, he had to hand it to them: they could sure carry on a party in the face of just about anything.

Though Vorya had been plunged into darkness—not unlike the rest of the city, if stories recounted by drunken tongues were to be believed—the Russians had point-blank refused to allow their New Year’s Eve celebrations to be interrupted. The alcohol continued to flow as freely as one would expect from them, and even those who weren’t affiliated with the Vorshevsky family in some way had decided to stick around and ride out whatever was going on. It seemed unlikely there would be a better time to be found anywhere else.

Naturally, his immediate reaction to the blackout had been to blame the weather.

When hushed whispers started to circulate a rumour there’d been an explosion on the other side of the river, however, his mind wandered into uncomfortable territory only another glass of vodka could put to ease. The anxieties he’d been trying to avoid since he’d landed in the shit hole he now called home were only compounded by the text from their boss; evidence in itself that the man wasn’t worried about whatever this was.

Bombs were hardly the style of the French, and the Rutherfords had no reason to make such an ugly scar on the face of a city they were still battling desperately to keep under their control.

So if there had been an explosion the three main culprits weren’t responsible for, it really only left two options:

Either Arkady gave even fewer fucks about London than he’d initially thought, and would jump on just about any tragedy that he thought could be of benefit, or a not so unfamiliar enemy was rearing its ugly fucking head on a country it’d already spent years tormenting, and the old man already knew it was coming.

Aviv’s relationship with the HCA was well understood to be a complicated one. Whilst he couldn’t begrudge the Russian mob doing business with them—money was fucking money, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered—that didn’t mean he hadn’t made his aversion to their goals abundantly clear. Those who affiliated with the Vorshevskys varied in their opinions; some of the Russians sympathised with the group’s goals, where others thought they were fucking insane. For those who’d originated from the former USSR countries the terrorist organization once again sought to control, however, it was a little more personal.

The Ukrainians, in particular, had been dealt a shitty hand by those cunts. Maybe the Kurylenkos had been in Launceston so long it didn’t matter to them.

Aviv didn’t much feel like looking past it, though.

Though he’d been sat at the bar in relative silence, enjoying a moment’s calm from what he was sure would be a party that carried on until the sun was all the light they needed to get home, it was interrupted just as he was about to request another refill.

“Aviv, can you help me with something?”

The Israeli had turned to the Kurylenko loyalist with a glare that said: No.

Even in the dimly lit room, it didn’t take long for him to realise that the expression he wore carried more anxiety than any of the inner turmoil he’d been fighting. All it took was a second for his gut to sink. The expectation had loomed heavy over all of their heads after the shit show that had been last year’s celebration, but now, as he looked back at a man visibly sweating, he was sure that their night was finally set to unravel. Something was very wrong.

Deciding the spare the others any concern until he was absolutely sure it was necessary, the fighter got to his feet and followed the green-as-grass security kid out to the back room.

The scene he was met with was not what he’d been expecting.

A second Kurylenko loyalist was stood in front of them, shining a torch downward to illuminate a pristinely wrapped Christmas gift; gold ribbon holding it together like it was the most innocent thing in the fucking world.

Were they joking?

“Bit fucking late for Chanukah, boys,” he mocked.

The man with the torch said nothing.

It was then Aviv noticed that his hands were red.

“We didn’t open it, but—”

Words seemed to fail Artyom, the man who had come to find him at the bar, at that point, and instead he gestured toward the box as if to say ‘take a look.’ It was rare that Aviv ever found himself feeling apprehensive, but as he realised the same red on the hands of the man opposite had since pooled around the bottom of the gift, it was impossible to ignore.

It looked like blood.

Hesitant to touch, he reached out just enough to tilt the label into view.

It read simply: ‘Joyeux Noël.’

“Who delivered this?” Aviv snapped, looking to each of them in turn. “Where’d you find it?”

“Some guy in a suit left it on the doorstep.”

“French?”

“I don’t know, he sounded American. I—”

With each word, Aviv could feel the blood in his veins begin to boil.

“What did he look like?”

“Uh, I don’t know. It was dark, he—” Artyom stuttered.

“Average height. Beard,” the other began in an attempt to save his friend from getting his head slammed into the fucking wall, “expensive looking suit.”

Didn’t narrow it down in the fucking slightest, but who else but a French piece of shit would’ve left such an obvious ‘fuck you’ right at the height of their party?

After a moment’s hesitation he usually wouldn’t have allowed himself, he finally untied the ribbon and removed the lid of the box. The smell hit so fucking fast he was surprised that the container had managed to hold it until now. Unmistakeable every time, pungent and assaulting, the kind that could make anyone sick to their stomach: it smelled like death.

As he looked down into the depths of the box, the view of whatever it was holding was obscured by plastic wrap; bloodied, and obviously not fit for fucking purpose given the swamp it was now sat in. Aviv never had a weak stomach for these things. His time working with the Vorshevskys had desensitised him to the most violent depths of a man’s imagination and the havoc it wrought. It wasn’t the idea of what he was going to find that bothered him, but more so who. The French had taken a lot of hits lately and he’d been glad for every single minute of their suffering. But it seemed unlikely that however they chose to finally get back at their biggest enemies would be anything short of personal.

It’d started with Svetlana, and would end with this.

Peeling back the barrier, the first thing he noted was the hair; beautiful blonde, eerily reminiscent of his dead girlfriend, albeit matted with so much blood it was hard to discern.

A fucking head.

Now that was absolutely a French fucking MO.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Artyom muttered.

“Watch your mouth,” Aviv countered quietly, though unwilling to look up from the hair in his hand.

He almost didn’t want to touch her. But they needed to know.

“Who is it?”

As he eventually pushed back the hair to reveal the face of the victim, he realised that even the worst case scenarios his brain had been cycling through hadn’t been close. All at once, the striking pain of loss returned with unimaginable force and it felt like his chest was being fucking crushed. All the air in his lungs left him. Even if he’d wanted to answer their pig-ignorant question, he wasn’t sure he could’ve found the words to curse them to fucking hell.

Did they not know the place in which they stood?

Aviv wouldn’t pretend to not understand why their enemies had done this, but for what possible reason could they have chosen her beyond pettiness?

“Go and get Maksim,” he finally said. The sound of his own voice seemed foreign to him. “Andrei, too.”

If anyone was going to break it to the family, it should’ve been them.

Maksim could soften the blow for the Kurylenkos, and Andrei was almost certainly better suited than him to tell Mikhail that another one of his sister’s was dead.

“Aviv…who?”

The man didn’t even have it in him to be angry at the persistence.

Aviv had already lived through the pain of losing family once.

Not nearly as much as they had, though…

As he finally tore his eyes away from the decapitated head of Katarina Vorshevsky, he had only three words left to give:

“That’s my sister.”

#self para #event: NYE2020 #sorry kara #MobNYEdrop

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