#could also be desperate sobs and tolling bells

[time-eclipse]

Goodbye, Miss Peregrine... Remember Me?

Warnings!

Major Character Death

injury etc

(Please let me know if I should add more warnings)

‘You saved them from Caul but at what cost? You would have done it all over again in a heart beat.’

or 

Reader sacrifices themselves for Alma and the children

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Darkness. An ever-growing stretch of nothing but Heartache. Did you lose? You felt as though you had. It was cold. So cold that you very nearly collapsed from the sheer shiver that ran up your spine. There was no blood. Not anymore. Your wounds were buried as deep as the wound that was impaled on what remained of your hollow heart. The explosion was still singing bells in your skull. You whimpered out in pain. At least, she was safe. At least, the children were safe. Your breath was growing thin. This wasn't the plan... But this was the result.

Love. What was love? It was nothing but a cruel evil gaze. Mocking as you fell in deep. Love was uncontrollable. Love is fresh and yet it haunts the soul. Or, despite this, is it only a four letter word? They say one can not know love without kindness, respect and acceptance. But is that the truth? What would you know? You failed at it anyway. Love can leave one empty but it can also make one whole. Love can break or make you. It was a loathsome game. Perhaps love just depends on someone's prospective.

Your right golden eye twitched. Was this really the end? Were you ready to face the fate bestowed upon your shoulders? A familiar voice cried and begged. Your heart yearned to comfort her. But you couldn't see her. The darkness truly had taken it's toll. You hugged yourself. It offered little to no comfort. A waterfall ran down your cheeks. It was eating you out from the inside. Painful and never healing. Pain was a funny thing... Wasn't it? You lay unmoving as footsteps approached. "(Y/n)... Please.. Don't leave me." the ymbryne begged on a broken sob as she collapsed to the burning earth beside you. You felt yourself being lifted from the ashes. A warm delicate hand placed on your cheek, stroking it with all the care in the world. As if terrified to break you. You leaned into the familiar touch for the last... The last time. "Why couldn't you just listen to me..." she hissed in a quiet tone. Of course she would scold you. Even at deaths door.

You attempted to focus your eyes. The vision was blurred but you could make out little things. Alma held you close to her chest. Her hair was an utter birds nest. She would have panicked over it any other day. Yet, you still thought she was gobsmackingly beautiful. A Goddess in her prime. "Is he dead?" you asked. Voice croaking as you did. She let out a sob and nodded. Her children watched from the distance. Too terrified to step towards the two of you. They had just watch you sacrifice yourself... And for what? Miss Peregrine rested her forehead on your own. Her breathe shallow. "Good." you whispered with a smile. You would do it all again in a heart beat.

Miss Peregrine became more possessive in her hold. Holding you tightly. She wasn't ready to say goodbye. She had lost too much already. Your time was ticking... Your heart was slowing. Alma felt fear absorb her shaking form. “(Y/n)... stay with me." she begged a little more desperate than before. Shaking your worn out form. Repeating her words. Begging for you to stay. But you couldn't. It was impossible. Emma had begun to try to distract the rest of the children once she had snapped out of her shock. But her acts were in vain. She could not stop the large tears raining down her face.

You held onto Alma’s hand. In truth, you were terrified. You had no knowledge of what would happen next. Your eyelids grew heavier. You could hear the panic in her normally soothing voice. "Goodbye, Miss Peregrine... Remember Me?" you asked as your last breath left your bloodied lips. A smile stayed on your lips. Even in death. Alma let her sobs tear her throat and the large tears cloud her mind. She cradled your head. Rocking you to and fro.

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Short and sweet? 

I know angst.... Don’t kill me yet. I was in the mood for tears.. SO HERE’S MY TRASH!

I will be doing more of Miss Peregrine in the future (Hopefully).

Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you thought? Also I apologise if there's bad grammar... I have dyslexia...

[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows -Ch. 3

Fred Weasley x OC 3,733 k Ch. 3 / 10 Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!Fred, touching, cursing, begging, dirty talk, slight degradation, mention of masturbation

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

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That night she dreamt of what might have come after if she hadn't run away. Her head filled in all the gaps and gave her a show of Fred pressing himself into her over, and over again, calling her a good girl when she whimpered his name and a fucking whore when she moaned too loud.

She didn't tell Daisy, or Mandy, or any of her friends the next day. Mostly because she was embarrassed but also because she was still in shock.

The thoughts plagued her and nearly made her forget that she had a less than savory obligation this evening where she would be forced to see the one person she didn't want to. She avoided the Great Hall, the library, or any other common areas all day long, in the hopes of prolonging her avoidance of him.

Daisy pestered her around dinnertime about how the recognizance mission went, as she'd noticed her absence last night. She gave some half-hearted excuse and another about why she couldn't come to dinner. She spent the rest of the evening hold up in her room, fighting off images of Fred fucking Weasley with his hand around her neck.

She refused to acknowledge the heat beneath her navel whenever she thought of their encounter. She couldn't remember exactly why she'd decided to push him off of her but thanked her subconscious for being somewhat alert.

What would she do about him? Hating him was easy. It always had been. But now, something else stirred inside of her. She felt equal parts disgusted and elated to see him again but tried not to dwell too long on the complex feelings.

When the evening bell tolled, she rolled her shoulders back and marched to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom to face her punishment, which oddly enough, had become the least of her worries.

Fred was already seated with a black quill in his hand, near the front, flanked by two other Gryffindors. She knew he was going to be there and she'd seen him at least once a day for seven years, and yet her heart nearly stopped.

He was hunched and tense. She could see his flexed back muscles through the thin white button-up of his uniform. Others were shaking or crying but not him. He sat like a statue, practically frozen with defiance. She was sure that his pride and bravery would give Umbridge no satisfaction. She tore her eyes away when the pink menace noticed her and motioned to a table towards the back.

"I will not break rules," Umbridge mewed across the room with a sickly sweet smile. "Twenty lines should suffice Ms. Longbottom."

She stared the woman in the eyes, deeply regretting every action that had led her to this moment, and nodded. A stirring terror burrowed itself in her stomach. She could hear silent tears and tempered breaths around her. This was going to hurt. Umbridge waited for her to lift the quill to the paper before reclaiming her throne at the head of the room.

The first line, in red, didn't do much but by the second "break" she felt a deep gash open. It was such a sharp, and foreign pain that she audibly gasped. Her eyes scoped the room, hoping that no one had heard, but she had no such luck. Fred stared at her from over his shoulder. She met his gaze just long enough to shoot him a glare and then let her eyes fall back to the page in front of her.

She made it ten lines without so much as a tear but by then, her blood was running free and pooling a little on the desk in front of her. She whispered a vanishing charm and whisked it away before finishing the last lines quickly, biting her tongue to keep from crying out.

Umbridge came to inspect the front of the class's work first, and Fred left before she did. When it came time for the evil woman to surveil her work she leaned over the bloodied table and smiled.

"I hope I don't see you in here again, Ms. Longbottom," she tutted. "I'd hate to take your Prefect status away. You are dismissed."

She mumbled a poisonous thank you and practically ran from the room.

The stairs beneath her blurred into a stone slab as tears fell down her cheeks. She searched her head for some sort of healing spell but the knowledge escaped her amid so much distress. She flew through the hall and stalked towards the only place she knew she could be alone.

The door to the prefect's bathroom groaned as it opened with her utterance of the password. She peeked inside and sighed with relief at the sight of the empty room.

When alone in the big gold room, she let her cries come freely. The sobs from deep in her chest, clearly mingled with things other than the pain of her hand, echoed around the room and nearly overpowered the sound of the faucets, filling the swimming pool-sized bath. Her hand stung but somehow the mark was worse. Her smooth flesh was now broken by sharp, bloody lines that might be there forever. It was completely irrational, but the wound made her feel ugly.

After about ten minutes, she dried her tears, stripped off her uniform, and chose soothing lavender bubbles for the bath. The steaming water was a welcome feeling for her sore body. She hadn't realized it but she'd been tensing all her other muscles in a feeble attempt to keep the sharp pain at bay.

She closed her eyes and sunk into the water, trying not to think about how Neville had gone through the same thing. There was a certain sense of pride she got from being her brother's keeper. She watched out for him, stuck up for him, and kept him from being hurt but it wasn't enough. Not only did he not want her help, but he seemed hellbent on keeping her in the dark about the nefarious activities that were getting him hurt. If he'd just told her what he was doing in the first place, everything; the detention, Fred, her hand, could've all been avoided. But it was too late now. She was stuck with a rebellious, secret-keeping brother, a feud gone wrong, and a fucked up hand.

The bubbles swallowed her whole as she dipped her head in and held her breath, desperate for a moment of complete silence.

She curled into a ball and stayed beneath the water until her lungs were screaming at her to free them of the pain, or perish.

The cold air rushed against her face as she shot back up through the bubbles and caught her breath.

"Trying to drown yourself?"

She yelped and spun around frantically trying to cover herself as the voice of Fred Weasley disturbed her for the second time this week.

"What are you doing here," she yelled, clutching her chest and staring at him across the steam.

"Lifeguard duty," he declared.

She rolled her eyes and turned away in a fury.

"You can't be here," she hissed.

"Bloody hell, you prefects are — "

"— no you idiot I mean that specifically, you cannot be here with me like this."

He was silent for a beat and then she heard him sit on the edge of the tub, and dunk his feet in.

"No peaking, I promise," he assured her in an almost sincere voice.

It was pointless to argue and she was too exhausted to even try. He sensed her resignation and began kicking his feet in the water.

"How was the good girl's first detention?" He asked.

"Terrible," she shot back.

"I expected as much," he laughed.

When she was sure her chest was entirely covered by the bubbles, she turned back around and shot him a glare. He returned the look with a delighted smile.

Her jaw clicked from biting down too hard. He was gloating but she wouldn't allow him to rile her up any further. Obviously, he wanted her to snap at him and curse at him to leave but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He stared her down with the same intensity she was radiating. Neither of them seemed motivated to move.

Why had he even come here?

Something in his expression cracked when he realized she wasn't going to speak without further encouragement.

"Your hand," he inquired softly. "Not fatal…right?"

She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes again.

"No, but…I��I just don't want it to scar."

"Oh, no, it won't. See, I've started writing with my left hand to give it a break and you can hardly even see the marks anymore."

He leaned towards her, brandishing his left hand. She stared at him hesitantly, worried that any movement would give him quite the show. She sunk deeper into the water before moving towards him and reaching up to take his hand, letting his palm flatten out against her own. Sure enough, there were faint pink lines that no longer looked like a phrase scattered on his hand. Absentmindedly, she caressed the lines with her other hand, making sure there were no raised lines or permanently damaged skin. He exhaled sharply as she held him between her two hands.

For a moment, she forgot who he was.

She forgot what'd they done and what it would look like they were about to do if someone walked in now.

There was no history; only palm against palm.

She looked up at him and nodded, letting him know that he'd made his point just fine, but he didn't move. Her heart was fluttering in her chest but she couldn't decide what it was trying to tell her. His fingers began curving around her wrist, just enough for her to notice.

"Fern about last—"

"How do you know the password?" She asked.

He looked taken aback like he wasn't expecting the conversation to veer this way, and then smiled.

"I know everything," he assured her, in a calm, almost casual voice, before letting go of her and leaning back with his hands behind him.

"How did you know that I was here," she asked, this time more curious, and less accusatory.

Her hand tingled from where he'd touched her. If she'd known that he would pull away because of her inquiry, maybe she would've just stayed quiet. On the other hand, this was Fred Weasley, whom she despised, and giving him reasons to touch her should not be on the forefront of her mind.

She couldn't decipher which she wanted more.

To strangle him, or let him strangle her…again.

"Lucky guess," he sighed.

"Liar," she mumbled.

"Fern," he laughed with an amused smile and a wink. "If I'd known for certain that you were here, then I would've come much faster."

She rolled her eyes and rested a shoulder against the ledge he was sitting on.

"You know a lot about coming fast?"

His smile grew wider and he threw his head back with a short laugh. "Not usually but I guess it depends on how good you are."

She sized him up and half thought about just leaving but there was a twinkle in his eye that was making it difficult to breathe. Certainly, he wasn't trying to pick up again where they'd left off.

"I've never had any complaints," she mused, staring him down.

He cocked an eyebrow. "You?"

"Yes, me, you twat," she scolded, swatting his kneed with her hand. "Your surprised tone is not appreciated, by the way."

He chuckled and looked past her towards the stained glass before closing his eyes. She furrowed her brows and scooted a little closer. He looked stoic — relaxed even, and for some reason, she didn't like it.

"Really," she demanded. "No questions? No rude remarks? No 'who would want you?' Nothing?"

He opened his eyes in a flash and leaned forward onto his knees to get closer to her.

"I know who would want you."

The response caught her off guard and something dark flashed across his face. If she wanted to, she could reach up and touch him but her nerves kept her arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"You do," she asked softly.

He smiled again, this time, less menacingly, and nodded.

"I'm an idiot but I'm not blind," he said matter-of-factly. "Wouldn't mind being a little deaf though… at least when I'm with you."

"Haha, you're hilarious," she blurted, rolling her eyes and splashing him a little. "All you want is a laugh."

He rested his forehead in his hands and stared down at the water.

He was quiet for a few seconds but his face was suddenly twisted deep in thought.

"Fern, I think you know…what I want," he admitted softly.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She didn't know why but it hadn't occurred to her that they were going to talk about what had happened last night, let alone continue it. She stared at him in disbelief, trying to think of something witty or smart to say to get him to leave.

"No," was all she could manage to get out.

"Yes, you do," he countered, sitting up straight.

"No…I don't," she practically whispered.

He smiled softly and shook his head. "Figures that you'd be a know-it-all except about the things that matter."

"The things that matter?"

"Yes Fern, the things that matter. Fire, water. Sun, moon, Hot, cold. You, me."

He winked with the last bit and his smile sloped like he was telling a joke. She could see why he'd always had girlfriends over the years but she wasn't going to let him believe she was a prize to be won with meaningless flirting.

"Bloody hell," she sighed, shaking her head. "You really think I'm going to fall for that? Don't you have some underclassmen or groupies to hook up with?"

"Nah," he mused, rolling up his sleeves. She watched as he broke eye contact and swallowed hard. "In light of recent events I've found that my tastes have…changed."

Her breath caught in her throat. He was bringing it up.

They were going to talk about it.

Desire bloomed through her chest.

"Changed?"

"Yes, to things…less boring."

He stopped smiling and stared at her with uncharacteristic seriousness.

"I thought you said that I was boring," she stammered.

"Hmm…did I?"

"In fact, if I recall correctly, you said that I was so fucking boring that —"

She caught the shift in his eyes before she even noticed his movement and then he was standing in front of her in the water, clothes and all.

She clutched her chest, being sure that she was covered, and backed away.

"Fred, you can't just do that," she babbled shrilly, hitting her back on the edge of the large tub.

He didn't seem to hear her as he moved forward.

She spread her hand across his chest, losing her concentration on keeping him at arm's length as soon as she touched him.

His chest. Him.

"Fred," she whined, clutching his shirt, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

"What did I tell you," he asked in nothing more than a breath.

His features were sharp with confidence but she could see the glimmer of unease in his eyes.

He thought that she was going to run away again.

She hadn't decided if she was actually going to when he reached up and caressed the side of her face, moving the hairs that clung to it.

His fingers stroked her jaw and then pulse point before wrapping around her neck.

She moaned but a knock at the door cut her off.

"Hello?"

She went wide-eyed and shoved Fred away as fast as she could, immediately glancing to the door in a panic.

"Fuck" she cursed, reaching for a robe.

Fred climbed out of the tub before she could worry about him seeing her naked and hid behind a pillar by the door.

They were screwed if it was someone nosey. She might be screwed regardless.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to lock the door," she yelled, making sure her robe was tight before unlatching the door and coming face to face with Hufflepuff prefect, Ernest Macmillan.

His eyes went wide at her, even though she was completely covered.

"Oh Fern, hello! Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, no, not at all," she reassured him, glancing nervously at Fred who was peeking his head out to watch her. "Um this is as much yours as it is mine, I must've accidentally locked the door."

He peered around her and raised his eyebrows.

"No problem at all…can I join you?"

She moved aside quickly, making room for the thin blonde boy.

"I was actually just leaving so it's all yours!"

"Oh, you're leaving?"

She didn't watch him as she picked her clothes up from the floor and glanced towards Fred's hiding place again.

"Yes, I've still got some homework and uh N.E.W.T studying to do," she explained, scooting around the boy who seemed to be frozen in front of the door.

"Too bad," he mumbled, leaning out of the way.

She grabbed the handle and nearly yanked the door open before it dawned on her that it probably wasn't the best idea for her reputation to leave Fred for Ernest to find. She turned back to the blushing boy and clutched her ear in fake panic.

"Oh Ernie," she cooed, dawning a puzzled look. "Do you see my earring anywhere? I seem to have lost it."

He didn't give her another look before committing his full attention to the floor a few feet away, even going as far as getting on his hands and knees to feel across the tile. She watched him for a moment and then frantically opened the door.

As if he'd read her mind, Fred tiptoed from around the corner and made a b-line towards her. She shuddered as his large hands wrapped around her waist to move her out of the way. Once he'd fled into the hallway she waved her arms in the air in a grand gesture of realization and purred across the room.

"Oh, how silly of me, it was in my pocket. Thank you for all your help, have a lovely bath!"

She didn't wait to see his face or hear his response before slamming the door closed and rushing down the hall, with only a robe to shield her from the cold air. Thankfully, the rest of the castle seemed to be settled in for the night, so the passageway was empty.

"You know that kid?"

For the second time in the night, she jumped as Fred made his presence known.

"Stop scaring me like that," she hissed, turning around to shove him. His large stature hardly even registered the force, much to her frustration. She turned on her heel and stalked down the hall. He walked close behind her and leaned forward to speak into her ear.

"Hufflepuff right? Is he your boyfriend or something?"

She spun around and glared at him.

"What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

A darkness passed over his eyes but she didn't care. She was done playing this game and she was done being his toy. She was done letting him think he had any sort of power over her.

"You hang out with him?"

"We occasionally have Prefect rounds together, not that it's any of your business," she huffed.

"Well you must've done something to him on those rounds because he wants to fuck you," he snapped.

"No, he does not, you twat."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm. She hissed in displeasure as he pulled her into a deep window frame, hiding them from view.

"He was hard as soon as he saw you," he hissed.

She stared at him in disbelief.

He held no claim to her and even if he did, the last thing he had to worry about was Ernie from Hufflepuff.

"Well, that makes two of you."

Her eyes darted down to his pants, still half tented.

His lips twitched and his smile faded. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, making the distance between them seem like nothing. She stared into his dark eyes for a moment longer before glancing back down to the outline of the hardness in his pants.

"Do you like that I'm hard for you," he whispered.

She bit her lip to keep from whimpering. He stepped forward, inching her closer to the wall. They were about two inches from being in the same position that they were in last night but this time, she didn't back down.

She tipped her head back and leaned against the wall without his help, staring him straight in the eyes.

"You like to think about me to get hard, don't you?"

His eyes widened a bit and his cheeks flushed.

"What if I said yes…" he breathed, taking another step. "What if said that's what I did last night…and again this morning."

The realization hit her like a train and lit a fire in her stomach. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her veins. This time, she had power over him. His thoughts of her were on display, instead of the other way around.

It was delicious and maddening.

He took another step, looming over her, pressing her into the wall.

"Show me," she whispered, tipping her head back to expose her neck and chest.

He looked completely bewildered with his pupils blown.

She glanced down at his lips but he stayed quiet.

Silence lingered and she wondered if she'd actually said it out loud, or if he'd even heard her.

In an urge of something foreign, she doubled down on her statement and caressed the neckline of the robe, exposing her chest just a little more.

"Fucking hell," he mumbled senselessly, closing the gap between them entirely.

"Go on," she whispered, thrusting her pelvis against his.

He sucked in a breath and pressed his forehead onto hers. She didn't peel her eyes away from his as he unzipped his pants. She held her breath until something warm and hard-pressed against the thin fabric of the robe covering her stomach.

His mouth dropped open as he took himself in hand and began stroking.

[pendragyn]

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They)

an excerpt of my fic set during/after the church scene...

[...]

“Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?” Crowley had to make themself walk away after the jolt they’d felt from their hands brushing. They didn’t let themself look back, stalking away and wondering if Aziraphale would accept the offer. Almost hoped the angel wouldn’t, knowing they themself didn’t have the willpower to stay away, not when the angel looked at them the way they had as they’d accepted the books. As though it was a real courting gift, as though something lasting could come of it. As though Aziraphale had ever felt as Crowley had and still did.

Aziraphale looked down at the bag and up at Crowley’s retreating back, and inwardly at their own jumble of feelings and those that had come through with their first physical contact in centuries. Love. Their heart soared with terror and hope. They love me. They love me! As much as I love them! The euphoria was gone in an instant. In love, with a demon. A demon strong enough to walk on consecrated ground. How can this be anything but a trap? Aziraphale’s eyes drifted back down to the books, at war with themself, but called out, “Wait!”

Crowley stopped at the verge of the church’s property, at war with themself, but turned to face Aziraphale as they scrambled cautiously over the wreckage. “Their car should be around here somewhere.”

“Oh, I, I suppose so,” Aziraphale agreed, putting their hat back on and falling into step with Crowley. “It’s not that far to walk. Did it on the way here.”

“Might be another pass tonight. Might be they had friends. Rather be able to get out fast,” said Crowley, relieved to spot an undamaged car down the road a ways. Crowley snarled silently at the lingering scent of demon in the vehicle, but it was too faint to identify. “To the bookstore? I mean, if you’re still in the same building,” they covered when Aziraphale gave them a startled look.

“I am,” Aziraphale admitted, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, clinging desperately to the books as Crowley started the engine and zoomed away. They wondered, at how much Crowley might have forgotten in the years they had been apart. Did they remember anything of their friendship before the fall, or just their infrequent times together after? It was probably too much to hope they’d bothered to remember much, after removing themself so completely from Aziraphale’s life, but, but, for Aziraphale to be able to sense their love, after so long apart… It had to be more than just nostalgia, more than just a fondness for an old friend, didn’t it?

It was a blessedly short trip and when Crowley stopped at the darkened book store, Aziraphale found themself saying, “Would you like a drink? I owe you at least that.”

Crowley stared at them for a long moment, still fighting themself over doing what was best and doing what they so desperately wanted, and finally gave a mute nod of agreement, following Aziraphale inside. It was dusty, in a way that surprised Crowley, with the books stacked haphazardly and covered in cobwebs, and a faint smell of mildew and rot that was too real to be an illusion. “Let it go a bit,” Crowley blurted, following Aziraphale into the back where their little apartment was set up. It wasn’t much, a little kitchenette, a table with a few chairs piled high with books, a dusty wardrobe in a corner and a couch that had seen better days. It had all seen better days and when Aziraphale cautiously lit a little oil lamp by the stove Crowley realized that even the angel was looking the worse for wear around the edges.

“Oh, yes, some,” said Aziraphale, carefully pulling the books from the bag and returning them to their spots on the only shelf that had been dusted with any regularity. “Didn’t seem much point in opening since the war started.” They frowned to see Crowley still standing and hastily shuffled books off the table and chairs.

“No, I suppose not,” Crowley murmured, taking a seat. It was bittersweet being back there, the first time since Paris, remembering Aziraphale’s excitement as they talked about how they were going to organize the shop and what they were going to do to keep customers to a minimum.

Aziraphale also sat but bounced back up, twisting their ring nervously as they chattered and went to dig out something to drink. “I, er, I made a deal with a farmer, for them to keep my more valuable things on their farm so I’m afraid the best I can offer you is cider—”

“It’s fine, angel,” Crowley soothed, reaching out but quickly withdrawing before Aziraphale could notice the gesture. “You don’t have to give me anything in return. For old time’s sake.”

“I’ll never drink it alone,” Aziraphale told the cabinet truthfully, afraid to turn around and see pity on Crowley’s face. Drinking alone made them remember, made them think of all the things they’d lost. Who they’d lost. “Be a favor to me, really, if you help me get rid of it.”

Crowley knew they should go, but Aziraphale had been their friend, had been their only friend, their best friend, for years on end, and they couldn’t leave, not without a little more stolen time in their company. Not hearing that desperately lonely note in their voice that they could feel like a stab to the heart and knew they’d hear in their own voice if they let it. Maybe there’d be a chance to make them laugh at some silly joke, a chance to once more see the laugh lines crinkle around their eyes as they pretended to scold for some thing or another. “Well, be a shame to let it go to waste.”

∞

What was at first hesitant and stilted conversation eventually eased as they kept to safe topics, mostly complaining about their bosses, which soon eased even further into shared memories of days long gone. The night wore on and as the supply of very strong, specially made and definitely not blessed, more like the opposite of blessed cider diminished, so did their inhibitions and higher thought processes.

The demon was on a rambling monologue about spies and double agents that Aziraphale had zoned out of an hour earlier, and they were instead just watching Crowley as they got up to pour themself another drink; taking in every movement and gesture, the curve of their cheek, the gleam of lamplight on their fiery hair. When they turned and looked over the top of their glasses to give Aziraphale an inviting grin, the angel lost their breath at the emotions that seized around their heart like a fist. I love them. I love them so much.

Aziraphale couldn’t hear anything but their heart pounding in their ears as they sank back onto the couch and unfurled their wings and their auras just so, a plea and an offering, holding out their hands, their throat too full of emotion to say anything but, “Crowley.”

Crowley’s empty glass slipped from their fingers and bounced away, and their glasses soon followed as they were drawn across the space by the absolutely radiant love pouring from Aziraphale’s eyes. “Aziraphale,” they breathed, unfurling their own wings, gasping as their outer auras met and meshed, and then their lips were on Aziraphale’s and their hands were sinking into blond curls and shimmering feathers, holding on for dear life as Aziraphale kissed them back. “Aziraphale!” It was an oath and a prayer as their inner auras brushed, and mingled and meshed and they moaned against each other’s lips. “Yes!”

“Yes!” A mindlessly jubilant euphoria blazed within Aziraphale like a wildfire at the contact, searing away all caution. They didn’t even consider the superficial, and therefore safe, unions afforded by physical or auraic touch, instead surrendering to the soul-deep yearning that had simmered unacknowledged for millennia, murmuring, “For you, Crowley, anything for you—”

Crowley was seized by a senselessly fierce exultant joy that jolted through them like lightning when the angel said those words, and they threw caution to the wind when the radiance of Aziraphale’s firmament brushed their outer aura, bringing them only a thought away from reciprocating when a bell, a church-bell, deep and sonorous and painfully loud rang out and continued to ring with a sense of desperation.

Crowley wretched themself out of Aziraphale’s embrace, pressing their hands over their ears, gasping for breath, horrified at what they’d almost done. They’d been a heartbeat away from turning their best friend into a demon, from dragging Aziraphale down to hell by selfishly taking advantage of their generous and caring nature. Had been moments from destroying the one thing in the entire universe they cared about more than life itself. Saved them from a betrayal only to be the one to almost cause their fall instead. What kind of monster does that? Unforgivable.

“Crowley?” What had just a moment earlier been euphoria crashed and burned beneath the disgust in Crowley’s eyes and the reality of what they had almost done. Crowley had put themself in harm’s way to help a friend, and their so-called friend had almost doomed them in return with their pathetic neediness. What kind of pathetic fool mistakes physical desire for a courting overture? If Crowley hadn’t recoiled, the mingling of their firmaments would have marked Crowley as a traitor to hell and they would have been destroyed for it, and it would have been entirely Aziraphale’s fault. “Crowley, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, please—”

“No, no,” Crowley murmured as they backed away and when Aziraphale reached out, they fled. And worse than the still ringing church bell was the sound of Aziraphale’s pleading sobs echoing in Crowley’s mind, begging the unforgivable for forgiveness.

∞

Read the entire tragic fic on AO3

[strawberrywritings]

Second problem.

A/N: I am an hour late to posting this and i haven’t proofread, but to make up for it: Señor Galindo makes another appearance! I honestly hope i managed to tag everyone because sometimes i lose a username (sorry in advance)🙈 

Hope you like this chapter, ad if you want, let me know what you think in my askbox xx 🍓

ps: look how cute Angel is when he sleeps!!!!!

/ Previous parts

The next hour and a half went by in a blur. You and Angel sat on the sofa as he proceeded to explain to you everything about what he did with the club: the drugs, the tunnels, his past, his mom. Multiple glasses of water later, there was a thick silence in the room, your arms were crossed over your chest as you stared everywhere but him, and he sat there defeated, because he knew what was coming: heartbreak.

He was the first to break the silence, “I opened up myself to you, please say something”. His voice was desperate and your heart ached. “I don’t know what to say. This is… a lot”, you had tears in your eyes, and he might not be a genius like EZ, but he could see how uncomfortable he had made you. And he hated himself for it. He nodded in understanding, and you spoke again, your voice wavering. “I just… I hope you can understand this isn’t easy for me”, rejection was coming Angels’ way, he was sure of it, so he did what he did best: building his walls back and acting as if he wasn’t breaking inside.

“It wasn’t easy for me to tell you all of that shit, either”, his voice got rougher and you looked at him, a frown on your face as your tone got firmer, too. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not used to all of this drug bullshit. – you looked at him, and while the strong façade you had put on started to crumble, Angel’s eyes stayed hard, staring into yours – I’m sorry I’m not from your world, I’m sorry I can’t understand what you’re going through. I can try, for you, but now I just need to come to terms with everything you told me. This may be just another day to you, but not for me. All I’m asking is some time”, you finished your rant with a sob, and his gaze softened at seeing you like that, he wanted to hug you so bad, but he was playing the role of the big bad biker and couldn’t get out of character now. El Pardino’s words echoed in his mind, “If she doesn’t accept it, you just let her go”. He was too afraid of losing you, and he thought that acting like this would make it hurt less. “Call me when you wanna talk”, he got up, making his way to the door and getting out of your house, not looking back.

You remained on the couch, the same couch you and Angel had spent so much time making out and cuddling on, it had become a place for sadness. You cried, and doubted your feelings towards him: was this a sign that it was best to break up with him? Could you take what came with this life? Would this happen again? That night, you couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, your saw the pictures again, and every time it was hard to breath. Angel rode home, entering his apartment as if he was in a daze, he walked straight to the cupboard ad grabbed a bottle of tequila, drowning his feelings in alcohol and weed. He drank to escape his reality, to pretend that everything was fine, just for one night.

/

Angel arrived at the yard late, but when he did show up, everyone could see he looked like shit. He didn’t say a word to anyone and walked straight to the bar, asking Chucky for a bottle of water and some painkillers for his terrible headache. He kept quiet for most of the morning, and then lunchbreak came, so he sat at a random table and began eating. “Ain’t your girl coming around, today? – Coco spoke, plopping down next to his best friend – you could use some tlc to get that fucking shitty mood off yourself”. Angel winced at the mention of you, and Coco looked at him, his brows furrowed. “Nah, I’m good”, Angel replied and continued to eat; his friend kept quiet but looked at EZ, who just shook his head, signaling he also didn’t know what was going on.

In the afternoon, after work, EZ (poor guy, always babysitting and taking care of the others) had to snatch away his brother’s third beer, telling him to go home and get his shit together. That had made Angel scowl at him. “Mind your fucking business, prospect”, he spat the last word like it was an insult. Everyone was silent, not daring to challenge him if he was in a bad mood. Angel didn’t say anything else as he grabbed his stuff and stormed out the clubhouse, Coco going after him. “Hey, hermano, where ya going?”. “Home”. “Talk to me, c’mon”, Coco grabbed his arm and Angel yanked it away harshly, turning towards the other man and looking at him with angry eyes. “I told her everything and she said some shit about needing her space”, Angel huffed out and put his helmet on. “Everything?”. “Everything, Coco. And now I am alone again. I’d appreciate all of you not pouring salt into the wound and just letting me be”. He started his bike and sped off the parking lot, leaving a stunned Coco standing there. When he went back inside and relayed the information to his brothers, they all felt sorry for him and agreed that it would be best to leave him some time to cool off. Nonetheless, the old Angel was, seemingly, back.

/

You, on your end, weren’t doing much better. You had cried yourself to sleep on the couch, woke up late and had to rush to work. All day, you couldn’t think about anything other than the man that had been in your life for the past months. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side: as soon as the bell rang, marking the start of lunch time, you smelled a familiar cologne, and you turned just in time to see Miguel Galindo approaching you; he was wearing an almond-coloured suit with the usual white shirt underneath, perfectly complementing his skin. He invited you to have lunch with him at the same café you had been to a couple of weeks prior, and you figured you could use some distraction.

Miguel had done his homework: he had Nestor find out what he could about you, where you were from, what schools you attended, how you got to Santo Padre. Knowing all these things (but bringing them up in a way you wouldn’t be able to know he knew), it was easy for him to hold a conversation with you, even though he noticed how you seemed to space out from time to time.

“Is everything alright?”, he politely asked. You were brought out of your thoughts, and you softly smiled at him. “Yes, I’m sorry, I zoned out”, you apologetically smiled and shook your head. “Something’s bothering you?”, he asked, straightening up and leaning forward towards you. “Just… a rough night. Nothing that a good night of relax can’t fix”, you lied, still smiling at him and looking at the time on your phone. “I should probably get back, I have a class in 15 minutes”, you got up and gathered your things in your purse, grabbing the check, which was immediately snatched from your hand. “I’m not letting you pay, señorita. It was my pleasure to have lunch with you”, his hand brushed the small of your back, almost imperceptibly, and he said something to the waiter, who nodded and Miguel led you out of the place.

/

You were talking by the entrance of the school, just after the bell rang, when you heard the roar of a bike approaching. Instinctively, you averted your gaze from the man in front of you just in time for EZ to climb off his bike and spot you, and spot Miguel: Taza had sent him to see what was wrong with Angel.

“Hey”, he shortly greeted you with a smile, his eyes meeting Miguel’s, who was standing way too close to you for EZ’s liking. “Prospect – Miguel said, an amused smile on his face – what brings you here?”. “Family business, actually. – the prospect turned to you and smiled, completely ignoring the look on the other man’s face – got a minute?”. You nodded and turned to Miguel, “I’m sorry, I have to go”. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch up some other time”, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, a common greeting. EZ looked at the two of you with wide eyes, but as soon as he could, he dragged you over to where his bike was parked but didn’t let go of your arm. He asked you what happened with Angel and you gave him a brief explanation, you really didn’t want to think about last night, or Angel, at all at the moment, and he felt it, too, so he let you be.

“And what the hell was that? Galindo? Really?”, he crossed his arms on his chest and you did the same, not liking the implications of his tone. “It was just lunch. God forbid I relax for an hour, eh? You and club have all these girls around, ready to throw themselves at you – and don’t say it’s not true or it doesn’t matter, Ezekiel. I’ve seen the way they look at y’all, at Angel… I had a shitty night and for once someone manages to get my mind off that, and it’s a problem?”, tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, all the emotions you held inside, spilling out. He never meant to insinuate something, and the fact that you were feeling like shit, just like his brother, meant that the discussion had taken a toll on you, too. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it was Miguel Galindo who helped you take your mind off of Angel.

You sniffled and lowered your head to regain some composure, first of all, because you were in public and secondly because you knew that your outburst to EZ was uncalled for, and he didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. – you said and he nodded, his gaze was full of understanding, but you still felt bad – I have to go, now. I’ll see you”, and with that, you made your way to your car and left. EZ followed your car with his eyes, and when he was sure you couldn’t see him, he got out his phone and called his brother. “Angel, you gotta get your girl back, rápido”.

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[claudemblems]

Uhm hello! How's it going? I'm back! I don't know if i can request something again but if i could, could i get a continuation of Yuri with a tomboyish s/o? Like after the timeskip they reunite and it's all tearful bc yuri thought that s/o died? Bonus points if s/o saves him from an attack with a naginata (and she grew even a little!). Thank u! Have a nice day/night! -DoumaIsTrash

Hey friend!!! Thank you for requesting <3 I didn’t end up making Yuri get attacked directly, but reader does come to the rescue of the Ashen Wolves gang. I hope these headcanons will suffice (and I apologize for the fact that they’re so long but if you know me by now you know that I do not know how to write small requests lolol). Enjoy your dose of Yuri content 💖

Yuri Reuniting with Tomboy!Reader Headcanons

War had devastated Fodlan for the past five years, and it was only inevitable that everyone had returned home to fight for their territories.

Yuri had been doing his best to look after Abyss and supply his people with the food and shelter they needed, but that was a tall order for a man that was short-handed.

Just as the war had finally begun to take its toll on the Abyssians, news of the Professor’s return and the promise of a reunion brought all of the students back to Garreg Mach.

Yuri was naturally relieved to not only have more manpower but to also see his friends again, all who were now grown up and making their own futures for themselves. 

However, once they arrived, he was quick to notice your absence. That’s when he realized he hadn’t heard a single word from you in the past three years. Not one letter, not even a note sent by a messenger bird.

When he asked the other Ashen Wolves about your whereabouts, the grim looks on their faces spoke for themselves. 

You’d been missing for three years, and everyone believed you’d lost your life while defending your house from the Imperial Army. Everyone had known except Yuri.

His legs nearly gave out from under him as he steadied himself against a wall. No, there was no way you could have died. You were the strongest and most resilient person he knew. You wouldn’t let death claim you so easily.

That night Yuri spent clutching his old journal to his chest, not ready to open it to a new page to write your name in it. The little sleep he did get was full of nightmares, all of them about you and the horrific ways you might have died with no one there to save you.

He awoke to the sound of the monastery’s bells chiming loudly, the Ashen Wolves rushing into Abyss and telling Yuri to prepare for battle.

A group of bandits had made their way in and were looking for valuable loot, some of which they’d been led to believe could be found down in Abyss.

With half of the students and staff guarding the monastery and the other half defending Abyss, there were plenty of weak spots for the bandits to exploit, but Yuri refused to allow any of them to get close to his people. He’d already lost you; the innocent Abyssians would not be next.

Despite his efforts, the bandits only pressed in closer and closer. Yuri was running out of time. Any further into the area and they’d break through his formation.

But that was when the war cries of a woman sounded behind the bandits, and one by one men began to fall, unable to face the champion charging at them.

She’d finally broken through the group and stood with a look of triumph on her face. It took only a single moment for Yuri to recognize the hero: you, his lover, the person dearest to his heart.

You were alive.

Without hesitation Yuri ran towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your bodt, unable to hold back the tears falling from his eyes. “[Name]...” he whispered, voice breaking as he hugged you even tighter. “You’re here.”

You returned his embrace, forehead resting against his, tears falling down your cheeks as you watched Yuri openly sob for the first time, all because he missed you so desperately. 

It didn’t matter to him how anyone viewed him at that moment. All that mattered was that you were alive. You were there in his arms. He wouldn’t have to write your name in his journal with the dead. There was still a future ahead of you.

“I suppose you have a good reason for making me believe that the treasure of my heart was dead.” “I didn’t intend to imply such a thing, but yes, I do.”

You had explained that you’d been in hiding, running covert operations to eliminate as many Imperial forces as possible. They were the ones that needed to believe you dead, not your friends.

“We’re going to talk more about this once we finish fighting,” Yuri stated, drying his tears with the back of his hand. “I need your help. I’ve been short one tall, tomboyish warrior.”

A tearful smile made its way on your face. “I will gladly lend my strength to you again, and my utmost affection.”

You, indeed, had a lot to exchange from your years apart on the condition that you both promised the rest would be spent at each other’s side.

[v01d-ch1ld]

Bad Always Becomes Worse in Gotham, and Worse Usually Turns into Dead

Author’s note: Yes. This is an official update. Yes, it did take forever. No, sadly, I am not dead. This chapter is part of an all-nighter writing binge. At this point, I have written this chapter three times and I hope I am satisfied this time. I am using the power of emo music and naps to keep sane right now because my personal life is #rough at the moment so this is going to be that edgy™ chapter where afterward September and some of my real-life friends are going to ask me about my mental health. (If you guys are reading this I’m fine just super sleep-deprived and sore because of work and insomnia and caffeine are taking their toll.) Lean back and enjoy the ride.

Warning! This chapter contains descriptions of violence, rape, mental health disorders, drug use, and death. Do not read if you are squeamish or under the age of 13. (If you are 12 and on Tumblr you have problems anyways.)

 Tonight was becoming a fickle thing. Jason was in desperate need of a plan. Bruce, four-time winner of Father of the Year, just took a victim to a mental asylum, like the warm and compassionate human being that he is. Nothing that had been done that night had really been her fault and it was nearing close to dawn. He was running out of time. If the sun rose and the Red Hood was still active he was toast. Then there was the lovely array of bullet wounds his ex-crush had given him. Jason didn’t know what to do. Becca had shot him and tried to kill him, he tried to kill her, saved her, tied her to a bedframe (ironically enough, the room she was tied up in used to be his when he lived at the manor), and then she broke free, shared a sob story, attacked his ex-employer, and then kissed him. That was a whole clusterfuck of mixed signals to be worked out with Roy, cigarettes, and about three bottles of scotch. Jason shook his head, he could focus on that later, he needed to call Kori so he could get his girl out of Arkham.

He hobbled out of the Batcave having left his hood, jacket, chest plates, one of his boots and his guns in the cave. He still had his own modified comlink on. That was something he never took off, and while he used the one installed in the HUD in his hood he kept one private one for his team on him at all times in case he felt the need to stray from Bruce’s morals and blow some fuck’s brains.

“Kori?” Jason quietly spoke into the com. The walls have ears in Wayne Manor. Those ears are named Timberly Jackass Drake and Damian “Demon Brat” Wayne. If they warn Bruce he’s sicking Kori and Artemis on him before he’s in a safe house then he’s fucked. Last time he deviated it took Red Hood out of commission for three months, he would be taking no such risks this time. He held his breath until he heard her respond.

“Hood, what is it? Are you okay?” Kori’s voice came through his earpiece clear as a bell. He let out his baited breath.

“Yes. I am at the manor. You need to come get me. I got hit a lot tonight.” Jason murmured, walking towards his old room like he is planning on resting.

“What happened? You Bats make dodging bullets look easy.” Kori teased but Jason heard the underlying concern. She was always so caring, even heartbroken. (Dick was a moron. End of story.)

“I was up against a sharpshooter. A familiar face. Remember when I told you about the girl that I lost?”

“Your beloved? But I thought she died.” He had told Kori that he loved her as much as she loved Dick. It wasn’t far off but he was pretty sure he loved his girl more. He smiled at that.

“It seems that she and I have that in common. Listen she’s in bad shape. We all know the kind of damage that the Joker can do. He made her a criminal and Bruce is taking her to Arkham. We need to intercept him and get her out of their hold and hide her so that maybe I can get her help. Crazy as she has been made to be she still listens to me.”

“Jason. Is this really the right call? She is unstable. She could be dangerous. Who knows how the Joker could have brainwashed her? You remember his mind tricks.” Kori’s voice is gentle like she understands the true bite of her words. Jason frowns because, yes, he does remember and she does have a valid point.

“I’m sure. Make sure we keep her in one of our more secure safehouses. Send Artemis and when you drop me off at the house, join her because she will need reinforcements no matter how much she protests.” Jason grunts as he lies down in the bed he had tied his friend to. He can’t get past that. Becca, his babydoll, was turned into the Jester. A shell.

“Okay, I will be there in a few minutes. I had to wrap something up.” She hangs up tersely.  Translation: I was beating the fuck out of the gang lord I have been chasing and had to end it early because of your needy ass. Fuck it. He could deal with spoiling her fun later. He needed Becca safe.

 04:07 GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City

 Batman dragged the fighting and kicking Jester, though gagged and hogtied, into the police station. They had a cell waiting. He had removed her shoes because the wedge heel had been most unpleasant when hitting him in the ribs. Now she was still kicking him but through the Kevlar and titanium plates, he could hardly feel a thing. He had to used cord from his grapple to tie her up because the cuffs had been jimmied, the zip ties bitten off (hence, where the gag came in), and the rope broken with her enhanced strength. The weaved titanium of his grapple line would withstand her strength and tied the way he tied it would not come undone but only get tighter as she struggled.

                 Jim Gordon stood in the lobby of the building staring at the girl with a hard stare. He walks over and removed her gag.

               “I want to know if there is any hope in saving you.” Of course, he did. Becca was friends with Barbra. Like Bruce, he had become a father to her. Jester looked up at him and bared each one of her teeth showing how her canine teeth have been slightly elongated and filed to sharp points, no wonder she had bitten through the zip ties.

               “Men like you are the reason that people like me exist, to show the world that there is no hope.” She grins, “How’s Babs doing lately? Still can’t walk after all that physical therapy?” After that Batman, no Bruce, punched her in the stomach and Jester has the nerve to laugh.

               Looking back on her father’s lessons, she laughs the way she was taught to laugh to inspire fear. Slowly and quietly chuckling, smirking and then picking up the volume gradually until the sound of her insanity bounced off the walls. Sneaking a look around she saw some of the officers look at her in horror. Gordon looked disheartened, Bruce was stoic.

               “Take her to the holding cell and keep her tied up on the floor. And take the cot out,” Gordon barks to his men who respond with a shaky “yes sir” and cautiously approach the Jester, who is still doing her father proud, laughing up a storm. “The transfer truck should be here in an hour, we’ll take it from here.” He said to the Bat, who grunted his response and was gone in the time it took the commissioner to blink.

               Shaking his head, Gordon watched as the drug a still laughing Jester to the area where her mugshot would be taken. He sighed, he never likes watching kids go through the process of being entered into the system.

                 04:47 a holding cell inside of Gotham City Police Headquarters

               Lying on the floor of the cell Jester wanted to kill someone. Her arms were stretched uncomfortably, and her feet were numb, and she was cold. She supposed that she should also be in pain. For once she was glad that she couldn’t feel those sensations anymore. How long were they going to keep her waiting? Did she have to break out of here and WALK to the Asylum? She began to try to twist her wrists only to stop when she felt blood running down her arms. Great, now she was bleeding more than before. Jason may be on the wrong side of the law for her right now, but he was a great shot she had to admit. Almost as good as her teacher. Speaking of which, she still had to thank Floyd for giving her the custom pistols that are now locked up in evidence. Fuck she had to get those back those meant something to her dammit!

               Rolling over, she looked through the tiny ass window that they give the jailbirds to taunt them with their freedom. Arching, her back she grabs the knife that she stole from her charming new boy-toy and prayed that it was the right knife. She began to test the blade against the wire and it cut. She almost screamed in joy but remembered that she was in a police station and it was only so long before one of the officers found out that she had escaped her bonds. Once she did, however, she wasted no time in breaking the lock with a combination of the knife and her doctored strength.

               Near instantly the alarms started going off and the hallway was flooded with officers. I guess now would be the time to garner that plan to get her guns back. She started in on her prey with deadly efficiency. Taking one arm and immediately dislocating his shoulder and grabbing his gun while using him as a human shield from the first volley of bullets. Taking measured shots, she used the six-shot magazine to take out the best shots. Once they were down and she knew that she had better odds of dodging bullets she picked up one of the guns that had skittered across the now blood-stained floor and set to work. She shot the ones on point first as they were getting a little close, dropped a leg on some guy who was trying to grab her, caught his gun as he fell and shot him in the head. A dark-haired female officer cussed in Spanish as she walked into the room grabbing her gun from her shoulder holster. Electric green eyes snapped to her and she was shot in the right shoulder in an instant, the gun falling out of her hand. Turning and shooting three more men who were coming from behind she takes the top off the gun and jams it into another officer’s throat picking up two pistols she shot down another cop who had walked in before he could cock his shotgun. Blood now covered some of the walls in an indiscriminate pattern.

               “IIIIIIIII S-SHOULD HAVE WARNED YOOOOOOOOU!” Jester screams before she begins to cackle like the hellcat she is. Rushing the last few men, she slides through the pooling blood in the hall toward the now open shotgun. Picking it up, crouching, and cocking in a swift move she fires blowing one man about a yard back and scattering his insides all over part of one of the walls and the floor. Loading and spin cocking the gun Terminator-style, she proceeds to dispatch a few more policemen before she strolls out of the hall with five guns strapped to her and 6 more shotgun cartridges. More cops stand in front of her as she starts a bloodbath.

 Meanwhile

05:04 Gotham City Police Headquarters

 Jason Todd didn’t know what to think, but the Red Hood was already unholstering his pistols by the time he got inside the building. Once he got inside though, even the Red Hood froze. His babydoll was straight-up murdering the police. They stood no chance. Granted, he himself is capable of doing what she is doing right now but he had never had the cause. He never simply decided that he was going to murder an entire police station, but here she was doing exactly that. Gordon was returning fire with his revolver from behind an upturned desk, several other officers were taking a page from his book and using desks as shields too. The Jester was also behind a desk, more visible from his angle and using some complicated gun tricks and a mirror to further up her kill count.

               “By the Gods,” gasped Artemis from behind him to his left. She was right. This was almost Ares-level carnage. He almost turned around to alter the plan he set up somewhat when Jester made a move.

               Rushing to the right and into a smaller hallway off the room she shoots two more officers in the head and breaks into the room at the end of the small hallway. The police share a collective curse, still not having noticed the Outlaws in their headquarters. That room was evidence and weapons lock up. Guns from every recent arrest in the city were stored there. Now she had an arsenal.

               Arsenal, Jason’s best friend not thing that Jester was currently drooling over behind the doors of evidence lock-up, spoke up in Jason’s com right then: “Hey buddy? Need some help?” he offers coolly. Jason knows for a fact that this is now being televised and that his time was now super limited.

               “I am so glad to hear from you right now. Yes, I need you to find me the closest and most secure safehouse you can.” Jason was not about to tell his friend to come here. Not when he was still recovering from Slade kicking his bowed behind to Bludhaven and back. Roy lets out a curse, most likely due to not being invited to the fun.

               “Fuck you always know how to dampen my hopes, man. Alright. I’ll give you a location in 15 minutes.”

               “You have five, Hood out.”

 BOOM!

“Oh fuck! What’s happening now?!” one of the officers shouts. That came from evidence. Everybody’s head turns to see grenades coming out of lock-up. Shit. Artemis tackled him behind the desk closest to the Commissioner’s office. Starfire had dived the opposite direction with two other officers behind one of the vending machines that had been flipped sideways. The detonation killed one more officer leaving only the Outlaws, two detectives, Gordon alive. Jester took this opportunity, her pistols, and a machine gun and broke for the exit, spreading the ammo from the gun so that no one could shoot back at her. Once on the street, she booked it.

Jason cursed. Out of his grasp again.

 Batman was going to be pissed.

  19:00 Dock 19 Gotham City Harbor

Jester crawled out of the shadows to a familiar warehouse. One of the many lairs her father had and where she was to report if she ever got caught. Not even Batsy knew about this one. She walked inside with her head held low out of exhaustion. She had been careful not to be seen all day. But now that darkness had fallen she longed for a joint and her bed. Walking in past the lookouts who were very surprised to be seeing her so soon after she got caught by the Bats, she stumbled upon Ivy and Harley having date night on the couch. Gross. Choking down bile, she drags herself into her area she flops down onto a pile of beanbags and begins to grind.

Her head was spinning with adrenaline and stress and her hands shook when she opened her grinder. Taking out her jar of weed that Ivy, one of the secret villain stoners, had grown specifically for her. It was basically really strong Sherbet Indica times about twenty. She is just about done grinding when she finally gets noticed.

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” Harley teased while she was in Ivy’s arms. Ivy looked down on her with disapproval, Harley ignored her as always. She really needed to start learning that being a brat would only get you into trouble with the doms she hung out with. Rolling her eyes Jester decided to ignore her. But that never worked with Harley Quinn the bitch would only try harder. “I’m surprised your new boy-toy doesn’t have you tied up.”

“Oh, he did Harl and guess what? I can defiantly say that it was better than any action you’ve gotten from a guy lately.” Nodding her respect for Pam. That bitch’s tongue could solve world peace if used applicably and almost every female villain knew it. Jester included after one night of a lot of rough flirting. It took a lot of gin, but the look on Harley’s face was worth it.

“Like you would know? You’ve only had sex like what three times? And two of them were MY sloppy seconds!” she squeaked indignantly. Jester had to admit that stung. Joker had raped her twice shortly after her arrival in his custody. While the act had only lasted less than half an hour each time, the pain and the mental scarring had been debilitating for weeks. It was something for which not even Jester could forgive him.

“At least I’ve never had chlamydia!” Jester flung back at her, rolling her joint deceptively calm.

“You little skank! I’ve never had chlamydia!” Harley yelled just a little too loudly for it to be true. Pamela looked at her in a very motherly way. Tired of our shit.

“Yeah that’s why you had to put on that fugly looking brunette wig, so you could go to the free clinic last month. Remember me laughing at you after I drove you there?” Jester said smirking evilly from her rolling tray.

“I-I, you little-“ Harley was cut off by the booming rage of the Joker.

“JESTER COME HERE NOW!” and with that, Harley was sent into fits of glee, laughing so hard she fell off the couch.

“Y-you a-are in so much trouble.” She panted between giggling fits.

Jester rolled her eyes, took her joint, lit it, dragged, and puffed the smoke at Harley and ashed it on her while she was rolling on the floor with tears in her eyes laughing. She yelped when the hot ash burned her stomach. Jester snarled at her as she walked past Harley and Ivy and up the stairs that led to the upstairs part of the warehouse where her father was waiting.

“What happened!?” he yelled, spittle going everywhere.

“First, say it don’t spray it,” that earned her a hard slap, “Second, I ran into some unforeseen circumstances.” She shrugged and dragged her joint. That was all there was to say on the matter. She was not about to tell “I have killed people for looking at my daughter wrong” that she had reconnected with her old crush. Like hell.

“Oh, really? And what exactly were those unforeseen circumstances?” He was pissed now. It was all in the narrowing of his eyes, the intensity of their chemical glow, the twist of his smile. He rested his head on his hands with his eyes half-lidded. That was usually when people started to decorate the walls.

“A rather rambunctious and familiar pain in my ass by the name of Red Hood.�� That was a double touch on her part cleverly disguised as a dig on the bat family.

“I see. Make sure our little failed boy blunder doesn’t ruin any other parties we have in the future due to your incompetence. Understand?” he’s sneering at this point.

“Understood.”

 “Just wait until you hear my plan for our next party, Daddy! I promise you will have the time of your life!”

 “I had better.”

 The smoke carried on into the shadows and dissipated.

@schweeeppess @dcuniverse-fanatic @dc-hoe @ravennightingaleandavatempus

[snowbellewells]

Captain Swan is my Favorite Rom-Com: While You Were Sleeping, Part Seven

by: @snowbellewells

(I really have to apologize for how long it has been since I updated this little movie AU.  I could make all kinds of excuses, but I just think I’ll beg your understanding and promise that I fully intend to wrap it all up soon.  Unless things change as I am writing, there should be only one more installment after this one before the fluffy ending.  Thanks to all those who have still been reading and asking about this one; I really appreciate your interest.

And now, back the CS-inspired version of While You Were Sleeping....)

Part Seven ~

Those curious, unknowing words had barely left Liam’s mouth than Emma was sucking in a fractured sob, desperate to hold it in her throat.  She gave the man in the hospital bed a tiny, wavering smile before shaking her head and barely murmuring, “No one important, sorry. Don’t worry about it.” Then she was gone in a rush of blonde hair whipping out as she turned quickly - her coat rustled, the door opened, and she was gone in a mere blink of the eye.

Liam turned questioning eyes on his brother, only to find Killian’s gaze still trained on the door the unknown woman had slipped through, a torn expression on his face. It was a look Liam had never quite seen on his younger sibling’s countenance before, or he would have known exactly what it meant. As it was, his concern and confusion was only redoubled.  “Killian?  What - who was that?  Is she alright?”

When Killian’s eyes returned to meet his own, Liam Jones sensed even more strongly that he was missing some crucial part of a puzzle he hadn’t even known existed. He was a man who knew what he wanted, what needed to be done, and always had a plan of action for getting there. He hadn’t left his father’s home and chosen trade to make his own way successfully on a mere whim or by chance, and this uncertain feeling that he had missed something crucial worried and upset him even more than waking up not sure where he was or what had happened had done.

His brother seemed to quickly grasp his unease and moved swiftly to alleviate it. Shaking free from whatever thoughts had been troubling his own mind, Killian gave a somewhat pained, self-conscious half-smile before idly scratching behind his ear in a gesture that was a dead giveaway to someone who had known him all his life that he was either uncomfortable, nervous, hiding something...or all three combined.

All the middle Jones sibling said however, after clearing his throat and shifting uneasily on his feet, was, “I’ll fill you in as best I can in a moment, Brother. Aye? I do hope she will be fine, but who she is...is, well...just a bit more complicated.” He dipped his head slightly to Liam, eyes seeking his older brother’s hopefully. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” Liam affirmed, not even hesitating.  This was Killian, whom he had grown up with. The man before him had refused to rat him out, even when falsely accused of cheating at school on the one test Liam had ever cheated on (thought two years younger, Killian had possessed a gift for languages which far surpassed his elder sibling’s, even if it was Liam who brought home the straight As). Killian had woken at dawn to milk cows with him before the bus arrived, even willingly taking the chore over during Liam’s senior year when Liam had found an early internship in his field to beef up his college aps, and Killian had been the one who’d saved with him to buy their first vehicle - a truck they had shared until Liam left for college and that he knew Killian still treasured.

“Good,” Killian murmured in a gravelly voice, a warmth in his eyes conveying just how glad he was to see his brother, regardless of what else might be on his mind. “Do you remember fighting off muggers? Or being pushed from the platform at your usual commuting station?”

Liam felt a slight pounding behind his eyes when he scrunched his forehead in thought, letting out a pained hiss and resolving not to try that a second time. He vaguely remembered standing on the platform, some stranger getting in his space, flipping his scarf, yelling, and the sensation of falling, but it was all a bit jumbled. Bringing a hand up to his temple, Killian leaned back to stand and seek the call button before pressing it anxiously. Turning his eyes up to his darker haired sibling, Liam mused, “Possibly? ...At least, maybe parts of it, I think.”

Killian ran an agitated hand back through his already disheveled hair, making Liam want to chuckle at the way the strands were beginning to stick out at all angles and in every direction. For his part, the younger brother did not look amused, but more flustered and upset with himself before finally saying, “I’m sorry, Liam. We should have been calling to have you checked out first thing, and here I am, like a bloody fool, bombarding you with questions the moment you finally wake…”

Something about his brother’s self-remonstrating rant set off further little alarm bells in Liam’s mind. “Wait, so I was mugged? At the station? How long have I been out?”

Killian shook his head, coming back to take his brother’s hand and squeeze tightly, gaze catching his and boring into Liam’s intently. “Long enough to have us all worried, Liam. Let’s just say I’m very glad you’re talking to me, that you know me, and leave it at that until a doctor arrives.”

Liam didn’t like it, but he could see that he wasn’t going to get any more information on his health from his sibling at present - Killian could be every bit as stubborn and bullheaded as Liam knew himself to be when determination was called for, and so he was wise enough to realize that pushing directly wouldn’t get him anywhere. Blowing out a breath in frustration, he swiped a hand through his mussed - despite their close crop - curls and forced himself to focus on his second point of confusion. “Fine, we’ll leave my condition to the doctors, if you insist… but Killian, at least tell me who that lass was who just ran out of here. She seemed upset.  Did you - or did I unknowingly - do something to cause her distress?”

Killian bit his lower lip in deep thought for a moment, weighing his options. Liam might not have remembered being engaged, even if he had been; of course, Killian now knew it wasn’t the case anyway, but also that the whole mix-up (though it had gotten out of hand) had begun as an innocent mistake. Something within him, in annoyingly close vicinity to his heart, couldn’t bear to have Liam, and then their whole family, blame Emma as he had mistakenly done, and then turn her out of their affections. His chest ached at the lonely yearning in her voice and expression when he had confronted her - as if she were just waiting to be rejected once more, even as she clung to some fragile hope that this time might finally be different.

Liam’s eyes were beginning to narrow suspiciously, and Killian knew he had better speak up before his brother deduced just how carefully he was weighing his words. Clearing his throat, Killian plunged in with a version of the truth that he hoped might spare everyone - well, everyone but his own traitorous affections. “You don’t recognize her? She’s a toll booth operator at the station you go through every Saturday. According to her, and the police for that matter, you were mugged while waiting for your train and pushed onto the tracks. She… Emma, her name’s Emma… jumped down as well, and somehow managed to roll your unconscious self out of the way before you were both run over.”

Liam’s eyes were wide in shock by the time Killian got that much of the tale relayed, but he was also nodding along with at least some degree of recognition. “Aye, you’re right,” he said softly, eyes somewhat unfocused as he thought back. “I do remember a bit of that altercation - shoving, one of those crooks making off with my briefcase, and the sensation of falling…”

“Exactly,” Killian confirmed, with a dip of his chin in a definite nod. He hesitated as his older brother’s brow furrowed in consternation, clearly frustrated as to why he didn’t remember his - to Killian’s mind anyway, angelically beautiful - savior. Here was where he could stop and let the rest of the chips fall where they might. However, the aching need he had seen on Emma’s face - to belong, to matter to someone, to be a part of something, even something as taken-for-granted by most as a family, pushed him further. His voice was still low, more of a hoarse croak really, because some part of him wanted Emma to be free and unattached, to know if he could enchant her as Liam had done from afar, but still he spoke up trying to comfort himself with the belief that he was sparing everyone else pain - Emma, his family - and giving his brother a gift if the driven sod took his head out of work long enough to recognize and grasp it. “Not only that though,” he added, seeing that he had Liam’s focus once more. “She tells us the two of you are engaged as well.”

“What?” Liam questioned, looking (if possible) even more perplexed than he had been already. “Engaged?”

Killian nodded again, succinctly, calm on the outside, even as his stomach churned. None of what he said was untrue, and yet he was being a bit misleading - not that Liam seemed exactly opposed, merely confused and surprised.

“Brother,” Liam began slowly, “why is it that I seem to remember most other people and things, but not this Emma? At least not beyond vague smiles and greetings as she took my tokens for commutes. Are the rest of you certain she isn’t lying? I would have thought I’d remember proposing to someone; not to mention that if I had, I had always imagined it would be Belle.”

Again, a part of Killian wanted to bite his own tongue off as he prepared to speak further, but he had committed to his course of action now and plunged ahead, all the while still trying to convince himself that he was doing what was best for everyone. “To be honest with you, Liam, I had always supposed you and Belle would return to each other as well,” he answered honestly. “You’d be the one to know what happened there more than I. What I can do is tell you what I’ve learned of Emma while you’ve been sleeping…” He attempted to inject the offer with a bit of teasing humor, and did in fact draw a rueful chuckle from his older brother.

He then proceeded to share details of the dinner Emma had spent with his family, their reactions to her and affection they held for her, and even his own impressions and how much he genuinely liked her as he had gotten to know her. Before Killian realized, nearly an hour had passed, and Liam wore a thoughtful, but much more at ease, expression on his face as Killian’s words finally ran out.

“You know, Brother,” Liam spoke slowly, deliberately, “perhaps I shouldn’t be so worried about remembering every detail, and instead thank my lucky stars someone who sounds as enchanting and wonderful as you make Emma Swan sound has wound up in my life. Maybe I had better get to know her and see if she still wishes to be my wife rather than trying to recapture the past and allowing her a chance to slip away.”

Killian nodded in agreement, relieved to see that Liam didn’t seem particularly troubled or reluctant at this prospect. He honestly wanted to simply feel relief altogether; this was the response he’d hoped for after all. His brother was alright, Emma wouldn’t have to leave their family and return to her solitary life; things could work out for everyone. But, for someone who was getting what he wanted, why could he feel nothing but heaviness and dread in his heart?

~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~

When Killian stepped outside the hospital onto the busy sidewalk, the chilly bite to the New England air had sharpened further still with the coming of evening. He didn’t have to search long though to discover that Emma was still nearby, clearly having lingered despite her hurt and disappointment, as he could see her huddled against the cold on a bench in the bus stop shelter a mere few yards away. As he neared her and stood in the entrance, as if asking permission to join her with a cocked head and arched brow, Emma glanced up and met his eyes almost sheepishly, before shrugging and nodding her assent.

She didn’t actually speak aloud until Killian flopped down on the bench beside her, offering him a quirked half-smile in tired self-deprecation before asking, “So, now that Liam’s all caught up, how huge of a crazy stalker does he think I am?” she asked lowly. “Did you guys call the cops, or should I just be prepared to be carted off to therapy?”

Her head bowed again after that, as if she didn’t want to - or couldn’t - keep holding his gaze. Killian sucked a surprised breath into his throat and nearly choked on it. He had long since realized she was sincere and no scam artist after all, but he hadn’t really grasped her level of shame and contrition.  Unable to leave her in that sort of turmoil any longer than absolutely necessary, he reached over to cover her cold bare hand with his own where it rested on her knee. Keeping his voice equally low, he still hoped it would convey some warmth and cheer, as he could feel shivers tremoring through Emma’s wiry frame next to him. “Actually, Liam’s decided he’d quite like to get to know you, Lass. He doesn’t remember you - or proposing, for obvious reasons,” he winked at her there and she gave a surprised snort of laughter, even as she also tried to surreptitiously swipe away a few tears, “but after hearing how you saved his life and how much we all love you and how well you fit in, he seemed to see it as an opportunity to get to know someone amazing rather than just letting you vanish.”

It was Emma’s turn for her breath to catch in stunned disbelief. Shaking her head, she did look back at him then, a tentative smile curling her lips even as she returned his stare in pure awe. “How did you…? What - Why would you do that for me, Killian? You know that it was all a big misunderstanding.” She stammered, at a dazed sort of loss, before her protest faded.

“Because I didn’t want you to have to be alone,” he offered simply. “You clearly already think a lot of Liam; he seemed to want to get to know you. You two can handle it from there - but it didn’t seem necessary to cause a lot of hurt feelings and embarrassment when it might all work out for the best anyway.  Besides, my family would hate to lose you….and so would I.”  He shrugged his shoulders, not sure what else to say in explanation.

It was a gesture that Emma mirrored sheepishly, a tiny smile crossed her face, even as her cheeks blushed bright red. “Who knows?  We might end up married in the end after all, huh?” she responded playfully.

“Exactly,” he smirked back. However, he had to swallow hard around the growing lump in his throat to do so - more certain than ever that the perfect happily ever after for her and his loved ones was going to pain him even more than he had realized at first.

Pressing her lips together, Emma seemed to be carefully gathering her thoughts for one more thing she wished to say, not noticing Killian’s inner conflict before he schooled his expression and kept it from showing on his face. “You know, not so long ago, my adoptive mom, Ingrid, was in the last stages of terminal cancer. We’d done all we could to fight it, but her body had taken enough...it was shutting down on her…” She paused, licked her lips, and then straightened herself in her seat and plowed on.  “I was sitting at her bedside, clinging on for dear life, cursing the world, and cancer, and Fate, that I would be all by myself in the world again… and she reached over, touched my face, and in just barely a whisper, said, ‘You’ll find a family again, my girl.  I know it.’  Those were… h-her last words.  And I - I didn’t believe them until right now.”

Blinking rapidly, she looked up into his eyes with her teary green ones shining. “Thank you, Killian. For giving me a chance. I adore your family, and I certainly don’t want to hurt them… You know that, right?”

He could tell she was about to start rambling in reassurance, and so he reached out to cover her lips, shaking his head with a humored grin. “Emma, Emma,” he soothed, breaking in before she could get on too much of a roll, “It’s okay. I know.”

For a second he stared into her eyes, shocked, and his hands darted away from her mouth quickly, feeling almost heated by the spark of chemistry that ricocheted from where their skin brushed. They were both silent, waiting, until the moment nearly passed.

Licking her lips once more, Emma nodded as if in acceptance of all they had discussed, then finally murmured, “Well, I’m grateful….So let’s see what happens… Unless….” She almost trailed off, looking away and then back to him again, “Unless you can give me some reason I shouldn’t see where this thing with Liam might go?”

Killian shook his head, barely even hesitating before he answered, “Of course not, Lass. Liam is the very best of men - my brother or not.  I wish nothing but happiness for the both of you.”  And that was that - even if he felt his heart sink inside him as he said the words.

Tagging: @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @revanmeetra87 @teamhook @branlovestowrite @therooksshiningknight @aloha-4-ever @kmomof4 @linda8084 @vvbooklady1256 @bmbbcs4evr @the-captains-ayebrows @winterbaby89 @spartanguard @nikkiemms @cinnamonduckling @capswantrue @flslp87 @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814

[unclefungusthegoat]

EXODUS FROM EDEN

A Far Cry 5 AU: The Plagues of Egypt

Hope County Gothic 2018- WEEK 1- PROJECT AT EDEN’S GATE

Word count: 1327

WARNING: Blood, dead animals, frogs, insects, rotting food, sickness/disease, starvation, scars and wounds, self-flagellation, child death, major character death, child abuse references, self harm

A Pharaoh once sat on high, his towering empire built by the hands of enslaved Israelites. But he defied the commandments of God, and his hubris was punished with pestilence, famine and death, wrought upon his lands through God’s messenger- a man he once called his brother.

Joseph Seed sits on high, his Project, his Eden inhabited by the unwilling, the unrepentant. And now God sends another messenger, one who trusts in and upholds the law, to warn the false prophet-

Let my people go.

Joseph Seed seeks to build a garden. An Eden where God’s chosen will be saved from the fury of an impending, catastrophic reckoning. With those he loves at his side- his brothers, Jacob and John, his sister Faith, his wife and infant daughter- he fabricated a devout and holy empire, claiming the people of Hope County for indoctrination into his ‘family’. He believes he is saving them. He believes he hears the voice of God.

He is mistaken, misguided by demons.

In a small town on the border of Joseph’s empire, a young police Deputy wanders through the lush Montana landscape, seeking solace and serenity. They had once been a part of Joseph’s family, enticed by his soothing words, his condemnations of government and society, his genuine care for the world’s ‘unfortunates’. But they had seen his true face. His lust for power. His hungry gaze. His serpent tongue.

They had fled.

And it is in that liminal forest that they hear the true voice of God, whispered first through low hanging branches, slipping gently through evergreen leaves, before alighting a bush and illuminating the glade with an opalescent flame.

God’s message is clear.

The people of Hope County must be freed from the clutches of the false prophet. 

Under a star-ridden sky, silent in the early hours of the morning, the Deputy meets Joseph in his church and explains to the Father of God’s commandment.

Unwavering in his faith, Joseph simply replies:

‘God will not let you take them.’

The Deputy pleads, but to no avail. And so they deliver the first warning:

...I will strike the water...

The Henbane River, once blue and speckled with the green haze of Bliss, grows thick and stains slowly with crimson. John is holding a sinner below the surface of the water, seemingly cleansing him, but instead he watches in horror as his hands redden and the scent of bitter metal claws its way down his throat. The sinner in his firm grasp begins to thrash and, as John brings him back into the cool night air, he looks upon a man glossed with so thick a sheen of blood, that he wonders how he is not drowning.

...I will plague your whole country with frogs...

Soon, Faith collects flowers by the tainted river. The soles of her bare feet are slick with the blood that has begun to soak into the soil. It is not long until the wild lobelias she gathers are scattered along the grassy path where she fled, as frogs are spat from the river’s depths in their thousands.

...Smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice...

The prisoners in Jacob’s care, their clothes stained with the rotting juice from meat they devoured, are used to the bristle of the Judges’ fur and the itching of lice. But upon the Father’s third denial of freedom, they see their captors begin to scratch the skin from their scalps, bloody flesh under their fingernails, their bodies overrun with the gnawing of a hundred thousand tiny mouths.

...Pharaoh hardened his heart...

Upon the release of a swarm of flies, which in turn brought disease as they settled on the harvest, chewing their way into the stocks hidden deep within the bunkers, Joseph’s voice fills the Deputy’s radio frequency. His words are faint from the unceasing cacophony of wings. He asks that the Deputy cease the plagues. He promises freedom for the people of Hope County.

The land was cleansed of the infestation.

But still, the people were not free.

...the LORD will bring a terrible plague upon the livestock in the field...

The bulls in Holland Valley collapse in the untended grass, their ribs prominent as they starve where they lie. Ravenous cougars rip all but the prongs from the elk corpses on the hot tarmac road through the Whitetail Mountains. The meat is poisoned by sickness. It is not long before the wild cats also succumb.

... festering boils will break out on men...

Joseph dabs soothing ointment upon the sores on John’s back, where they nestle among his deep scars. They grow inflamed and fever racks his body, droplets beading across his brow as though he was newly baptised. He bandages Jacob’s arms, where the patchwork of vermilion welts have given way to a new shroud of bulging sores. The Father is kept awake through the humid night by the screams of his infant daughter, boils burning into her tiny face.

...The LORD sent thunder and hail...

The Angels in the fields were nothing more than dust now. Each was incinerated by a lightning strike that evaporated their milky eyes, before claiming their bodies entirely. The church in Fall’s End no longer had a steeple, the hail having shattered it down. The people of Hope County had heard it crumble. The bell had tolled endlessly as ice rained upon it, and had then fallen silent. The thunder had rocked the earth and reduced the mighty statue of the Father to rubble.

...they will devour what little you have left...

There are no longer pumpkins at Rae-Rae’s farm. No longer are the fields blotted with fleshy fruits, but instead, dark with locusts that even devour the metal fencing, the wood of an old dog house, the tarp that covers a rusted truck. Radio towers appear like pillars of black salt, writhing in the fading sunlight. Joseph hides with his family, still ignoring the Deputy’s pleas.

...darkness that can be felt...

Madness came with three days of darkness. The Seed family kneel before the altar, whipping the flesh from their backs, unable to comprehend why God would allow this false prophet to punish them, his chosen, when they have all suffered so much already. Many of their flock walk out of the compound, never to be seen again. The shadow is suffocating, the silence oppressive. Joseph knows no light can be found in sleep- they are all haunted with nightmares.

...loud wailing... worse than there has ever been or ever will be again...

Joseph doesn’t cry when his baby daughter suddenly pales in his arms, her skin and lips fading to a periwinkle blue, cold to the touch. He does not respond to his wife’s heavy sobbing as she clings to the swaddled child. He holds her hand, gently winding his rosary around her palm. He doesn’t cry when he hears John screaming at the hunched figure of his eldest brother, blistered hands gripping at Jacob’s well worn camo jacket and oddly peaceful face, in desperate hope that he might wake. He barely hears the wailing that rings through the compound, through the valley and the mountains. God’s chosen few, chosen no more.

Instead, he radios the Deputy. He speaks in a quiet voice. It is a voice that lingers in the hollow space somewhere between forlorn resignation and tempestuous rage.

And the people of Hope County are at last freed. Purged of Bliss, their scars and swollen tattoos bandaged, the Deputy walks with them through the gates, as the sun rises once more.

Joseph watches them go. 

He sits alone in the ruins of his garden. His Eden. He waits for guidance, an echo of the Voice that had let him climb so high and then allowed his world to be torn apart around him.

He is met with silence.

It is the same aching silence he had known as a boy in the moments after his Father had finished beating him. Perhaps he was still there now, in that moment, resting on a porch in the heat of a Georgia summer. Perhaps he would indeed see the Red Sea part, in the form of a gash in his back where leather met skin.

Perhaps this was not his promised land.

And taking a knife in his malnourished fingers, he cuts into his tall forehead, a permanent reminder to his forsaken soul:

Exodus 7:17

“By this you will know that I am the Lord”.

-----------------------------------

Bold quotations are from the Book of Exodus. Painting is The Great Day of His Wrath, by John Martin.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This is my first fanfic for this fandom- I haven’t actually written fanfiction for a few years, (at least, not written down, I write it in my head all the time hahaha) and I’ve been concentrating on my meta essays for FC5, so I apologise if I was a bit rusty!

Also, disclaimer: I’ve never actually read the Bible, and obviously this is a fictional interpretation, so there are almost definitely some inaccuracies, but I tried to research as best I could! I wasn’t sure whether the death of the first born applied to daughters as well as sons, or to adults who were firstborn, but I used both for the sake of story.

Finally, I unashamedly acknowledge that I was 100% inspired by the Prince of Egypt.

[im-fairly-whitty]

Old Habits Die Hard

Coco One-shot Fanfic

An absolutely ridiculous (yet canon-consistent) one-shot of the Dead Riveras sneaking into the Sunrise Spectacular. 

A writing request from @goodtimesbadmusic and @mayu-nakashima to go along with this fanart of a completely flabbergasted Imelda and Miguel. x)

------

“Now approaching the De la Cruz Sunrise Spectacular, please make sure all tickets have been purchased well in advance.”

Miguel looked up at the box where the sky trolley’s recorded voice had come from, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Tickets?” Imelda asked, shooting a hard look at Hector, “we’re in the land of the dead and that serpiente is still charging people to hear him caterwaul into a microphone?”

Hector shrugged with an uncomfortable smile, making a non-committal noise. 

It hurt Miguel to see how wounded yet eager he was every time Imelda gave him any attention at all, regardless of how barbed it was. It was like watching a stray cat be kicked every time it hesitantly tried to rub against someone’s ankles.

“Hector, we don’t have tickets, how are we going to get backstage?” Miguel whispered.

He was the only Rivera who had dared to sit close to him the entire trolley ride. No one else was brave enough to tempt Imelda’s confused irritation, having been so recently disengaged from Hector her rage was loose and fast, hitting anyone who got too close.

“If we can get to Frida we’re gold, chamaco.” Hector said, but Miguel could see he was gripping the edge of the straw hat in his lap just a little too tightly. “She already hates Ernesto for being a lazy performer, I can guarantee that once she knows he’s a murderer she’ll come up with some crazy idea of how to get us close to him no problem.”

“But how do we get to Frida then? Through Ceci’s window?” Miguel asked, thinking of how they’d gotten into the rehearsal a few hours earlier. Wow. Had it really only been a few hours?  

“Through who’s window?” Imelda snapped from the other side of the trolley.

“Oh, Imelda, you remember Ceci Rodriguez?” Hector said, perking up with an unbearable bit of hope in his eyes, “She’s a seamstress for the production crew at the Spectacular, she finally got her dream job as a costume designer. Well, after death anyway. She’s helped me a few times over the years.”

For the first time during the trolley ride Imelda’s face softened, just a bit.

“Oh my, Ceci?” she said, an old memory lighting her eyes, “I haven’t thought about Ceci in years, she died so long before I did. Is she still as-” But imelda shook her head, swatting her hand in front of her face as if to push the memory aside. “No, that doesn’t matter right now, can she get us in or not?”

Hector scratched his goatee, “No, I think we’ll have to find a different way past security. I don’t think she’ll be at all happy to see me right before the show starts. Besides, I’ve already lost one of her dresses today.”

“You lost one of her what?” Imelda asked, somehow folding her arms even tighter.

Hector snapped his boney finger with a click, his face brightening. “That does give me an idea though.” He paused, looking at Imelda as a sheepish grin slid onto his face. “I, uh, Imelda, do you happen to remember the time I got us into that Mexico City fiesta for our second anniversary?”

Imelda’s face was stoney for a moment, but then something far back in her memory seemed to click into place and her eyes got very wide. For some reason Tio Oscar and Felipe suddenly looked very uncomfortable too.

“No.” Imelda said sternly, “You are not pulling that again, we are both far too old for that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?” Miguel asked.

Hector’s grin only got wider as the trolley shuddered to a halt at their stop.

***

“Imelda, please,” Tio Oscar whispered desperately, “we’re not sixteen anymore.”

“Don’t make us do this.” Tio Felipe finished.

The Riveras were all crowded into a back alley behind the Spectacular arena. Just around the corner from them was their target, a lone security guard standing watch at a back entrance.  

Imelda pressed her boney palms to her eye sockets, either trying to ward off a migraine or simply doing anything to avoid seeing Hector beside her.

“Stop being cowards.” Hector whispered back in a mischievous falsetto, snapping open a fan in front of his face and hitching his orange purse higher onto his boney shoulder.

“Just hurry and do it before my good sense comes back to me.” Imelda hissed, still not looking at her estranged husband, who in Miguel’s opinion was rocking a strapless dress and high-heels uncomfortably well.

Ceci had never pulled up her fire escape, making a quick raid of the rehearsal hall’s costume department an easy one. Miguel could tell Hector’s excitement was building, but he couldn’t forget that Hector had collapsed again just minutes ago in wave of shimmering gold sparks. Not the mention that Miguel had glimpsed his own collarbone becoming visible when they’d passed a mirror in the dressing rooms.

They were running out of time and they all knew it.

“But-” Oscar started.

“Now!” Imelda snapped, jolting Hector and the twins into action.

Hector patted his long haired wig into place a final time and strode out into the open, hips swaying confidently as he sauntered into full view of the security guard. One of the twins whimpered, but another glare from Imelda sent them both scampering after Hector.

“What are you doing! Let go of me!” Hector cried in his falsetto, struggling dramatically as Felipe half-heartedly grabbed the strap of his purse.

Oscar looked back at Imelda for a moment and then grabbed the bag as well, escalating the tug of war into something that looked halfway real.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Came the security guard's voice.

The twins looked up as they finally pried the purse from Hector and then took off down the street.

“My bag!” Hector howled, falling to the pavement with such despair that for a moment Miguel was afraid he’d been struck by the second death. But no, in a moment the security guard was at Hector’s side, looking panicked.

“Are you alright Señorita?” The guard asked uncertainty as Hector continued to sob hysterically.

“My-my-bag! It has my only photo of my son in it!” Hector cried, latching onto the guard's leg in mock-grief, “It’s all I have, please! You have to get it back for me! ”

Miguel look up at Mama Imelda beside him, who was now watching with a kind of fascinated horror.

“I, uh, of course Señorita.” The guard said, awkwardly trying to shake Hector off his leg. “I’ll get it for you, just, let me go por favor.”

“Bless you!” Hector cried, still holding onto the poor man’s leg, “A thousand blessing on you Señor, for helping a poor woman in need!”

By the time the guard successfully detached himself he looked only too happy for any excuse to get away. They all watched as he took off in the direction the twins had gone, just as Oscar and Felipe crept back to their hidden group from behind, having circled the block in the time it took for the guard to escape Hector’s clutches.

“One doorway to Frida Kahlo,” Hector said in his normal voice, picking himself up and cheerfully brushing dirt off his hem, “as ordered, courtesy of the Hector drama institute.”

Miguel couldn’t hold it any longer and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, leaning against the brick wall beside him, then collapsing into giggles. Hector walked over, one hand on his cocked pelvis as he looked down at Miguel with mock-feminine seriousness.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at little boy,” Hector said in falsetto, grinning as he offered Miguel a hand, “purse-snatching is a serious crime.”  

“You were amazing!” Miguel cried, taking Hector’s hand with his now equally bony one and letting himself be pulled to his feet.

“You were ridiculous.” Mamá Imelda said, but Miguel was pretty sure her expression was the same as his Abuelita’s was when she was trying very hard to be cross at something she’d rather laugh at.

“We’d better hurry.” Hector said, swapping his wig for his real hair and goatee, stepping out of his high heels and shrugging off the dress to reveal his tattered trousers underneath. He accepted his mess of a purple jacket from Tia Victoria and pulled it on. “We’ve still got to find Frida and I don’t know when the guard will be coming back.”

Miguel gasped as Hector groaned and doubled over, a flutter of shimmering gold running through his bones. Miguel and Imelda both jumped to catch him as he nearly fell, steadying him until the pain passed.

“We need to keep moving if we’re going to get your picture in time.” Imelda said, looking self-conscious as she let go of Hector the moment he could stand on his own again. “You two ridiculous performers lead the way.”

“Thank you.” Hector said to Imelda, looking like he wanted to add something else, but instead he braced himself on Miguel’s shoulder as he turned to lead the way to the now unguarded doorway.

Miguel bit his lip, wishing he knew what to say, but for now all he could do was try to make sure Hector wasn’t forgotten before he could maybe work things out with Mamá Imelda.

“Come on Papá Hector,” Miguel said, supporting him as they walked, “let’s go get that photo.”

It may have been Miguel’s imagination, but it felt like Hector stood a little taller at the sound of being called “Papá.”

-----------

I have waaaay too much fun with these if you can’t already tell x)

And hey, if you want more about Ceci you can check out my current fic “Cecilia de Verde” here, a Coco “no-murder AU” love story that I’m currently writing. :)

You can also read my more serious/thriller Ernesto revenge fic “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

If you like what I do you can also buy me a coffee to help me justify my constant writing time vs. homework struggle. x)

- Wit 

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love.

bechloe angel/soulmate/ I don't even know how to describe this but beca is a sort of magical angel reincarnation being that falls from the sky and Chloe is a struggling human so,,,yeah,, find out more as u move along.

edit: here is a better synopsis: a year and a half ago, Beca saved Chloe's life with payment of eternal commitment as a guardian angel and removal of all of Chloe's memories of their long and close friendship together before Beca’s reincarnation. After her training in heaven, beca manages to hijack the system to allow her to guard Chloe, but has to hide that she knows her n is SAD abt it.

inspired by this song

tw’s: death, mentions of sex, mentions of starvation/hunger, depression.

angst/fluff/whatever the poetic deep category of fic writing this fits into.

there is a death but like its not really death more like birth u know bc reincarnation also its the basis of Chloe and becas relationship or something

hella slowburn js but its totally worth it.

status: ongoing 

Chapter one: Soon The Air

She stood peering over the edge of the cloud, still holding her breath in anticipation. She stepped back in hesitation for what felt like the hundredth time, but the soft voice that had been with her the whole time overwhelmed her and she knew her decision was clear. She leaned forward, letting her chest be the point of her weight, and dropped.

She was everywhere. 

She was every salty, misted breeze that passed under slabs of rock staggering into the ocean. She was every drop of sweet nectar that passed down a hummingbird’s tiny vibrating throat. She jumped and soared through the atmosphere, catching in the wind and quickly slipping out of view over and over as she felt every spark ascend towards the darkness of overhanging branches in a thick, dark forest. She was every elated yell of pure joy, every unedited and genuine laugh, every deep and racking sob of hopelessness. She shared every desperate, torturous thought of guilt, every static pang of anxiety. She heard shrieks of pain and fear, she heard hundreds of voices singing together with all the emotion they could muster, and she heard the quiet and hidden weeping of loved ones from another room.

She felt the vibrations in her feet as bells tolled for newly-weds and she felt their heart pumping rapidly in their chests at the prospect of eternal life with the ones they loved. She felt the heat of scalding water as someone begrudgingly stepped into a shower at 5:00am, and she felt the tingling and raw sensation in every palm from clapping so rapidly and loudly for the performance of something that had just changed lives. She felt the racking hunger of someone who had not eaten in days, and the heartwarming reward of appreciation from something given.

She felt everything, everyone, everywhere, but she heard and saw absolutely nothing. She could feel no containment of a living body, and, although she felt every emotion, her mind was blank of personal state. She did not remember, and she had not the want to. She had not held knowledge of time or how it passed and the feelings that she witnessed and experienced could have been observed as lasting neither millenniums or milliseconds. The life of every human channeled violently through her consciousness, but she was not awake, neither was she asleep.

But then,

It was all gone. And all that Beca perceived of anything was cold, wet dew and rough, pungent grass against her cheek.

-

Chloe slowly brought in another aching breath and let it out heavily for what felt like the thousandth time that night. She walked over to the window but the sky was a dark colorless cloud, blocking her view of the stars. She wished she could see the moon and she sighed again, regretting it as her jaw and lungs complained from the aching sensation of being overtired and sleep deprived. She twisted the plastic handle of the wooden frame and pushed outward until she could feel the brisk and refreshing draft of cold air wash over her. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, this time, she hoped, for the last sigh that night, and held the cool in her lungs for a count of seven, letting it out as slowly as she could. She savored the temperature difference on her flushed and heated cheeks and listened to the distant white noise of the city stretching beyond. 

She considered that a walk would be the worst thing to do in her situation, and the thought of leaving her house for the first time in three days for an occasion other than work made her frown to herself, but she soon found her hands tugging on a pair of boots and a rain jacket over her pajamas. 

Her sleep schedule had become less of a schedule and more of a caffeine-dependent, never-ending cycle of work, eat, dreamless sleep, check her phone, sleep, work, and so on. She had actual little work to do across a deceivingly long amount of time, and for the most part they were simple tasks, but Chloe found it near impossible to force herself to work longer than a couple quarter hours at a time, quickly losing motivation and switching at dangerously close intervals of working and staring at her phone. Her little office job was dull and unfulfilling, but she forced herself to put away those thoughts and not take for granted her not-very-well-earned-salary. Her PhD in biomechanics seemed but a distant memory of possession, and she had yet to use a majority of the material she had worked so diligently and painfully to acquire.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk of outskirt-New York city and locked her door, she felt herself dreading the next day and the following weeks of the same routine she had been slowly falling into. She placed her headphones over her already cold ears and played shuffle on an album she hadn’t listened to in a few years. She turned down the volume significantly, as although her neighborhood was relatively quiet and restful, she had an unease when out at night. As the soft rhythm and peaceful melody filled her ears she felt a wave of a distinct set emotions she had not been accustomed to for a few weeks; longing, loneliness, and a sort of grievance she could not put her finger on. It took her aback, but she allowed the emotions to expand and radiate through her mind, welcoming the prodding of new and deeper thoughts than she had allowed herself in her recent routine.

Chloe was naturally a very friendly and outgoing human, the kind who would strike up conversation at most given opportunities, but she did not necessarily consider herself in want of returned validation in a closer and more intimate relationship. She spoke often to her colleagues at work, and she attended their infrequent events, but she could not recall sharing a close friendship with anyone for the past three years after graduating. She kept an online familiarity with the girls from her college a capella singing group, but she had not seen them personally since their only reunion a year ago. She had really enjoyed the event, but it had made her melancholy for the past and the carefree nature of attending school and singing with her friends. She had her family that she talked to often and visited some weekends and most vacations, and she sometimes ate lunch with the barista in the Starbucks at her office. Sometimes she did ponder, however, if her lack of closer relationships maybe factored in her recent slump of unfulfillment. Maybe she was feeling it now, she thought. Was this loneliness that was disturbing her mental plain, or something else? Whatever it was she continued embracing it, relishing the refreshing and self pitying relief it gave.

She stopped walking abruptly when she realized that she has been so deep in reflection that she had not been concentrating on the path. Her aimlessness had led her to a road she wasn’t familiar walking and after a moment of hesitation, she continued forward. She used google maps infrequently, however she was confident that it would not be hard to find her way home later using her phone. The road she had taken had turned narrower and become dirt and rocks. To right of her was a high wall of brambles and behind, a tiny, unseen trickling stream. To her left, there were more high brambles, but beyond that she couldn't see or hear anything. After a few minutes of the path veering gradually right, the brush slowly shortened and eventually reached low enough for her to look upon a large, untamed field. There were no nearby light sources, but what she could make out from the dim light of the overcast sky, there was a very thin sheet of slow-dancing mist, and what seemed like a very old rusty tractor on the north-east corner. She continued walking as she looked out, and eventually the path finished its right-side veer. She began to make out a small dark figure walking at a regular pace about fifty feet ahead of her and her over-active imagination triggered a growing feeling of anxiety fueled by the dark and lack of other viewable life-forms. In the spur of the moment she compulsively called out a greeting to the stranger, hoping that a short interaction would calm her hyperactive mental state.

“Hello!” She realized that the greeting would seem a little awkward if carried out so far apart so she jogged a little to catch up with the other strolling (she hoped) neighbor. The person turned, clearly stunned by the sudden shout but seemed to relax realizing the approach was not aggressive. It waved and turned back forward until Chloe reached them at a distance of around six feet. She observed the stranger to be a short small framed girl of around her age, maybe younger. Her outfit was odd for the cold weather, she thought ( a pair of sweatpants and a spaghetti strap tank top) but she let it go to focus on her conversation.

“Hi,” The girl’s voice was clear and short. 

“It’s so chilly for this time of year, I don’t even usually come here while on walks. The mist is so spooky!” She turned and smiled at the face next to her to see tears rolling down the girl’s face.

“Yeah. Super spooky,” wavered her voice.

[kl4us4]

HURTS LIKE HELL (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Summary: Based on the song Hurts like Hell - Fleurie

Prompt: “I loved and I loved and I lost you.”

masterlist // Bellamy masterlist

You sit behind the thick, metal bars, looking at the trees outside the foggy window. It's silent. No one else has been escorted into the cell yet so you're currently on your own except for a guard at the entrance of the room. Whilst you're alone and suffocating in silence, you use this time to reflect on what you've done wrong: absolutely nothing. 

 All you did was defend Lincoln when the crowd was assaulting him. They shouted horrible things and started throwing rocks at him. You like to think you're at least a decent person, so when the guards didn't do anything you decided to act for yourself. When you pushed the crowd away from the Trikru warrior, things got messy and it was only then that Skaikru guards decided to step in. 

 Looking back, you could've handled yourself in less of an angry fashion. But you were fuming. Livid. Seething. And not even the guards could hold you back or dodge your punches. And that's how you ended up here. 

 Your back faces the entrance. You sit quiet and still, with no regrets. When Bellamy walks in, he signals for the other guard to be excused. His chest falls when he sees you, glad you're okay after hearing about what happened earlier today. 

 "Y/N." 

 The voice doesn't make you turn around, it just makes you freeze in the position you're in. It's Bellamy. You haven't spoken to him properly in a while and it's definitely taken a toll on both of you. 

 A main factor for this odd separation is the fact that Bellamy used to be this independent, strong leader. Now he's controlled by Pike and you hate it. The next thing you hear is the beeping of a card against the prison lock. The metal door swings open slowly and he steps inside. 

 "What are you doing here?" You wonder out loud, wishing the question sounded as calm as it did in your head. 

 "Making sure you're alright." He replies, sitting down next to you. The two of you share this calm moment, staring at the passing world on the other side of the window. "Trouble seems to have an eye for you." 

 You hum back, feeling the lowness of your mood taking effect. You don't want to have small talk with him when you know it's all bullshit. There's so much you need to say to him. When you talk to him about nothing, it infuriates you. Because he knows there's tension and things he needs to say. 

 Bellamy turns his head to look at you but you keep your focus on the green trees casting shade upon the window. "I'm sorry about what happened to Lincoln." He states, knowing how you and Lincoln were friends. 

 "Half of me wants to tell you that you should be because it's partly your fault." You reply, not accepting his vacant apology. It's hard for you to hear his words as sincere. 

 "And the other half?" He responds, aimlessly pushing the conversation away from the inevitable words that he knows need to be said between you. 

 "The other half wants to stay quiet." 

 There's a pause of silence. Bellamy's sitting right next to you yet he couldn't feel further from the person who's supposed to be his best friend. Something clicks inside him and he knows he can't stop the inevitable. "I'm not going to avoid this anymore so if you have something to say, say it now." 

 And all at once, everything comes rushing to you. Every emotion and sentence you've needed to let out. He notices the way your eyebrows furrow as your eyes begin to burn. 

 "I remember when I first met you." You start with a small smile etched onto your lips, "We landed and you were the guard opening the drop ship door to Earth." You laugh lightly before your smile turns into a tight line as you hold back tears. "I noticed you straight away because you were headstrong - determined to survive... a leader that I could work with. And it's been you and I for the longest time, surviving. But," you add, the tears too much to hold back so you just let yourself cry, "I don't know who you are anymore." 

 Shutting your eyes close, you refuse to look at Bellamy. "I'm the same person I was when we met." He responds, watching you with wide, anxious eyes. 

"You're not." You shake your head, "The person I met would never let fear put himself on the wrong side." 

 He feels his heart sink and all he can do is watch you as you finally look at him. "I'm trying to help us, I thought you'd understand." His voice is angry and you watch as he stands up, stepping away from you in frustration. 

 "You don't see how you're ruining everything." You respond, standing up too but keeping your distance, "What happened today was-" 

 "-Not me. It was not me, Y/N." Bellamy defends himself, pointing to his chest. 

"Bellamy, the fact that you're in a position of power openly acting against the grounders gives people like that a free pass to discriminate against innocent people like Lincoln." You state, making him go quiet. 

 "I'm me." He tells you, almost desperately, "I'm still your best friend, I'm still Bell." He steps towards you. 

 "Then I never really knew who you were." You wipe a tear from under your eye, wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk towards the window. Bellamy's in shock. 

He stands there, watching you in bewilderment. "How can you say that to me?" His eyes are glossy and his voice is hurt. "When Pike came down and you started following his orders, I knew I lost you." You cry, sniffing as you turn back to him. There's no point shying away from his eyes, he's seen you cry plenty of times. 

 "You could never lose me-" 

 "-Well I did!" You snap - finally - as you watch him through tear filled eyes, "Remember us? We used to be inseparable. And now there's nothing. I don’t know how to say this without breaking. It hurts like hell, Bellamy." You shield your face with your hands as you look down and sob slightly. "I hate it!" You yell as you look up at him again, "I hate everything you've done!" Tears stream down his face as he watches you, his chest heaving up and down. 

"Y/N, please don't-" 

 Shaking your head fervently he stops his sentence because he knows you're not done. And he knows he wants to hear it. Your eyes are wide as you stare into Bellamy's eyes. 

"All I've ever done is been in love you, Bellamy." You cry, looking at your best friend. "I loved and I loved... and I lost you." 

 Bellamy wonders how he's never seen it before. You're in love with him. Of course you are. He makes his way over to you quickly, engulfing you in his thick arms. You feel so small and fragile in his strong hug but you also feel comfortable as you rest your head onto his chest, letting your tears fall. 

"I love you." You hear him mumble quietly into your ear, "I love you." 

 When you look up at him, his lips quickly meet yours as he kisses you. It's filled with passion and emotion and his hands are gripping your waist because holy shit you're kissing him back. He can feel himself fading away, as if he's losing himself in a dream. But then you abruptly pull away and look down, feeling his lips leave a wet mark upon yours. 

 His breath is heavy and you can feel it on your forehead as you place your hands on his stomach. Bellamy towers over you, watching you as he stays quiet. 

"I never meant to hurt you like this. Or anyone. That's the last thing I wanted to do, I want to help our people live here in the best way they can." He admits, seeing the error of his ways, "And I don't think I can do that without you. And I don't want to." 

[mantlelificent]

More Than Good | R.M.

imagine requested by @rxggie-mxntle

Summary: In which you, a student-athlete, believes that you are not good enough. Reggie Mantle thinks otherwise.

Life as a student-athlete meant several hours of sweat, hard work, and tears every day in a year. Each training was a step towards the rewards of building muscle and reaping what you sowed. Training as this year’s Volleyball co-captain took a lot from you, especially your academic and sleeping hours. You were entirely happy to be an athlete for Riverdale, as you loved the sport terribly; but your parents were starting to notice how your grades were slowly deteriorating. You’ve been in sports since you were a kid, but this year’s set of teachers had been tougher.

You’ve always been exceptionally bright on most subjects, especially Mathematics; though, as the year progressed, you were starting to find yourself slipping on Pre-Calculus. It was weird to see yourself receive lower marks than you usually got, but it got to the point where in the marks you were acquiring suddenly attracted your mom’s radar.

The past few weeks were full of threats coming from your mom telling you that she’ll pull you out of Volleyball unless you would be able to raise up your grade. Since then, it had been a tortuous path of constantly re-checking homework answers and trying to review every free period.

This anxiety tickling you to your core had not only affected your sleeping schedule, which was never really good in the first place, but also your very deep friendship with Reggie Mantle. Your relationship with the boy had been rooted since the day he pushed off a kid pulling your hair when you were in kindergarten. He had always been there for you, and you did the same for him; despite his tendency to be brash and mean, you understood that it was because he had underlying issues that came from his non-existent parents, who only showed their presence on weekends when they didn’t have charity dinners or gala’s to religiously attend.

Reggie loved showing himself off as a pride-filled jerk who could do whatever he wanted. You would always tell him to tone it down once you’ve seen him cross the line. He’d listen to you, maybe, for a few days; however, he’d always come back to his façade. A broken bowl glued together could only hold itself so far. You didn’t really know what to do with him, but you made sure that he’d kept himself off any party favors or too much drinking.

Besides your hectic schedule, you always made sure to visit him once in a while. You knew he desperately wished for any sort of attention, and when you visited him, you know he’d never tell you that he never failed to bask it in.

So, that was how your life worked. Studying, training, dinners with Reggie- you were going to drop anytime soon; but since you were happy, you were going to keep doing it.

You just didn’t think that you would drop earlier than expected.

The Pre-Calc midterm was going to be your saving grade if you just studied for it right. You thought of hiring a tutor, but you shrugged it off, thinking that you could study for it by yourself as you, like Reggie, also had a great and big, prideful heart.

The weekend before the midterms was handled by you and Reggie eating at Pop’s for your ritual breakfast routine. You had ordered a plate of buttermilk pancakes while the other boy got his usual big breakfast plate. He could eat a dinosaur compared to you.

Tapping your fingers down the metallic, black and white table, the football player shifted in his seat before glancing at you oddly. “What’s wrong with you, [y/n]?” He questioned, a half-part concerned and another pressing as hard as possible not to look like he cared that much. Reggie didn’t like looking soft.

You shook your head, gripping your coffee cup. “Nothing. Just nervous for the midterms.”

He scoffed, checking his phone for notifications. “Since when? You always do great.”

You laughed a bit nervously, knowing that it was a fact. But god no, this year was different. You could feel the thunderstorm coming from down the corner.

“Yeah, but I’ve been struggling… for a while now,” you told him, sighing. “My pre-calc got so low that mom’s been telling me she’s gonna cut me off the team.”

“Shit, really?” And his eyes widen just a bit. “You could have asked someone to tutor you, though.”

“Thought about it. Kinda lazy, so I didn’t bother.” Then you looked at him, an idea popping. “You could tutor me.”

You didn’t know why you hadn’t asked Reggie in the first place.

It was sort of an assumed reason to think that Reggie Mantle couldn’t hold down a math question, as he was a stereotypical jock. Though since he was a kid, Reggie did every possible thing to get his parents’ to notice him. Until this day, the methodology of being the best had strung its way into his soul. Another thing he hated admitting, but he was pretty damn good at Math and Chemistry.

“I’m bullshit at tutoring, no offense,” the handsome boy shot you down in a flash. “And I’m kind of busy, sorry.”

You took his words with a nod, but felt a little bit hurt. You were his best friend- you expected him to act as comfortable as possible to you. But then again, you thought that it wasn’t his fault that he acted too brash. The way he was surveying the perimeter told you that he was hoping no one had heard your hopeful tutoring question. Reggie had an easy target to hit. Under his so-called jerkish stance of being ‘Mantle the Magnificent’, he was just a boy with an uneasy and insecure self.

He continued, “You could do this, you’re [y/n]. Who else could do better?” And then he proceeded to inhale his food as a sign of a conversation stopper.

You nodded to yourself, sighing, and crossed your fingers under the table, hoping for the best.

The questions were quickly becoming fuzzy in front of your eyes, as you could feel yourself falling through the cracks. One look at the questionnaire, and your fingers started to shake. It wasn’t a pre-calc exam, since that was the next one. Still, this chemistry exam was making your brain hurt, and wrists tight from the excessive air coming from the a.c. You were extremely nervous; possibly because you had not studied for this as much as you did for calculus.

When you officially finished everything, you took off from the room- because you were feeling a little off and everything seemed too surreal. You got to your locker, but then the bell had rung- and goodness, you felt really shitty. Things just weren’t going your way today, and you assumed it was due to the four cups of coffee you had ingested the night before. Your breath was shorting out, and you felt that you were going to pass out any time soon.

Abruptly, a hand clutched your arm. “Yo [y/n], you alright?” A deep and familiar voice greeted your ear. It was Reggie.

You planned to sigh in relief and fall in his arms for a comforting hug, but a sob met your throat and the next thing you know, you were flooded with tears.

“-shit, shit, shit, [y/n].” A continuous string of curses came from Reggie’s mouth, before he hugged you tight- an arm around your lower back and a warm hand pulling you near his chest. You had thought at how oddly it felt like home to in a marginally close proximity with him, and how comforting it especially was to be hugged by the 6’3 teenager.

You willed yourself to calm down and breathe in what was Reggie Mantle.

“I’m-I’m s-sorry,” You hiccupped, “I was just panicking and shit, oh goodness.”

Then you gave an extremely shaky chuckle, which Reggie visibly frowned over.

“T-things just weren’t good. Today.” You told him, explaining, patting his arm. He still didn’t answer. “I had a lot of coffee and I had training last night and coach got really mad and shit, I hate everything right now and I feel the worst and, and…”

You looked at him, mind blazing, eyes detached and wet. “God, I hate you. You’re so collected and perfect, right now.” You muttered, weak, pissed, and all in all, in a sour, sour mood.

“What?” His brows arched in perplexity at what you had just quietly told yourself.

“Iloveyoufuckyouwhatever,” you angrily growled at your own confusion and marched off to your next room as the bell suddenly rung.

“What? What did you just say?” Reggie hollered, bewildered- his letterman-clothed-self wondering what was going on.

“Nothing! I meant it in a friend way!” You shrieked quickly, your back at him, and running to your next class while being flummoxed at your stupid self.

After calming yourself down and focusing on the test, you were able to come out of the room in a balance of embarrassment and doubt when you found Reggie, his tall and unassuming self, waiting for you outside.

Shit, you thought. And you cringed as you he followed you down beside him towards the lunch area outside.

“So,” he started off, “What was that all about?” He asked innocently while tucking in his jacket inside his backpack on top of their usual table. You greeted Moose and the some of the other boys talking who took your presence normally, and looked over at Reggie, your best friend- whom you are not supposed to be treating awkwardly.

“Nothing- nothing, really.” You covered in a rush, biting your cheeks. He paused, then told you, “Come on, let’s go to the bleachers.”

When you got to the bleachers by his obscene pulling, you threw everything at him like a milk carton over spilling. You had never kept anything from Reggie- he was everything to you- and you were used to his boyish nonjudgmental looks that he gave every time you ranted to him. So, yes, you complained about your stuffed-up problems, and he took everything in his stride. Just like you thought how he would take it.

“…It’s just that I constantly feel that I’m not good enough and everything is just taking a toll on me.” You finished, huffing. Looking down, you could a new set of tears coming. “I just need-“

Reggie takes your lips like a duck to water- and in surprise and bewilderment, you blushed and felt the surreal experience of his lips. Besides being shocked, you followed his lead and pressed fingers against his face. For some reason, it had not felt weird to kiss Reggie Mantle, the boy who went over for dinner every Friday because he never ate with his own parents, and who got genuinely mad at you when you hadn’t given him a Valentines’ Day present in middle school once.

You were used to your proud, and just a bit broken, best friend.

“You’ve always, continuously been good enough,” Reggie gruffly whispered- in Mantle fashion, proud and tough and hardly amiable- fingers caressing your face when you guys broke away from each other.

“You have been more than good for me ever since I met you, [y/n]. I want you to know that.”

You kissed him again so he couldn’t see you cry.

Check out #mantlelificent writes for more! Tell me what you think? :)

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK]

See also: @pankite​ 

CHAPTER NINE

The world was nothing but a blur through the endless stream of tears. Anna's body shook from a combination of the biting night chill and her own sobs. She had lost track of the amount of time she lay curled up under the sturdy oak by the cafeteria building with her face buried into her legs.

She replayed her argument with her sister in her mind over and over again. She desperately wished for either her Papa or Kristoff to come wrap their arms around her and tell her how she didn't just fuck up any chances she had of getting her sister back… at least, not completely. Even if Elsa accepted this, there would always be that awkward tension between them now. A silent disapproval that sent Anna into another fresh round of sobs just thinking about it.

And now she understood why her mother did all that she did. Why Idunn pretended Anna never called or sent anything to Elsa. It made her heart throb in agony to think that her mother hated her so much that she would purposefully sabotage her from being in contact with her older sister over something like her sexuality. Anna cursed her thirteen-year-old self for proudly announcing her first kiss to her mother, and for being naive enough to trust that she would accept her no matter what. That family was stronger than hate. Never in a million years did she think that Idunn would cut her off and try to turn Elsa against her!

And just as they were getting close again, Anna had to go and screw it up… possibly permanently. She didn't even have the decency to stay and comfort her sister. Instead, she took off, too cowardly to hold still and listen to her in case Elsa changed her mind and told her how much she hated her.

"Hey!" came a sudden, cheerful voice that shattered the silence. "What the heck are you doing out here, all by yourself?"

"...P-Punzie?" Anna whimpered and lifted her face from her legs to look up at the blurry form of her friend. A shudder went through her and she huddled more into herself for warmth. "W-What are you d-doing? It's late..." She wiped at her raw eyes in a vain attempt to clear them before Rapunzel got close enough to see her in the state she was in. As if her shaking voice didn't give her away first. "I-It's nothing, I- I just needed some air."

There was very little hesitation before the brunette sank down next to Anna, an arm automatically draping over her back. "It is not 'nothing'. Are you okay? What's wrong, Anna?"

The warmth that accompanied the arm helped ease Anna and she cuddled into Rapunzel unconsciously. "Punzie..." She let out a sigh and sniffed. "I- I fucked up. I got into a fight with Elsa and…" She looked at the brunette. "Um… h-how do you really feel… about gay people?"

Rapunzel stared back at her for a long moment, as if trying to think of an answer. Then she whispered, "Sorry, I'm, um, not used to hearing language like that. Can you repeat the question?"

"Punzie," Anna sighed softly. "Please, be honest with me; I'm serious." She paused for a moment, praying that she wasn't about to make another mistake. "How do you feel about people in the LGBT spectrum? You defended them earlier…" She tried to smile reassuringly to show her friend that she wouldn't be mad about her answer. "I just want to know now that we're not trapped in a tent with Pastor Frollo."

"Well…" The girl was very obviously squirming, but she rushed on, "I don't feel any certain way, y'know? They're just people. Like, I'm really struggling with that and how it relates to God and Christianity, but I don't know how to… I kinda… What's the big freakin' deal? Who cares who somebody loves or doesn't love? It just seems like there's a lot of sin in the world, bad sin, dangerous sin! And we waste so much of our time on homosexuality instead of the stuff we should be working on, like… homelessness, or murder, or domestic abuse, or… I don't know!"

Anna smiled a little wider, her chest warm with affection for the rambling woman. "I think you're a really nice person, Punzie." She rested a hand on her shoulder. "If I were to tell you someone we know is gay, would you treat them different?"

At that, Rapunzel scoffed. "Probably. Like, not on purpose, though. I just have never had any gay friends. I mean, there's a boy in my class everybody's pretty sure is, but like, without knowing for… sure…" Then the thread of their conversation started to catch up with her, and her eyes widened. "Wait. You're telling me… somebody here is? A gay kid came to Bible camp?!"

"Yeah," Anna said with a half-snort. She decided to take the plunge, releasing Rapunzel's shoulder so she could nervously hug herself again. "It's me."

"It's… you're… wait, what are you saying? You're a lesbian? No. But you don't… I mean you're so…" Swallowing hard, Rapunzel started hugging her own knees. "M-maybe I should stop saying things before I say a thing that's really stupid."

"Bi, actually. I have no feelings for you or any of the other girls, before you ask," she said bluntly, "nor do I randomly want to bang you, Punzie. I like girls just like you like boys, but I doubt you want to jump every guy's bone, right?" She tried to grin but it came out as more of a half-smile, half-grimace.

"A-ah." Her cheeks were filling with pinkness, and at first Anna was worried that she really had thought those things. But what she said next was, "S-sorry, I don't normally spend much time thinking about… um…" Lowering her voice to barely a whisper, she finished, "Ess-ee-ex."

Anna relaxed and let a tired giggle past her lips. "That's okay. Just thought I would get those stereotypes out of the way before you asked about them." She leaned against the tree, the stress finally taking its toll and she looked ready to fall asleep. "Anyway, I told Elsa. She… I won't say took it badly - because really, she didn't - but I thought I might as well stay away for now so she can… sort out things, I guess."

Her voice was a little more hushed in a worried way. "Ohhh. So… oh wow, you came out to two people in the same day. And in a campground full of Christians! I'm… maybe this is the wrong thing to take away from this, but you're pretty brave."

"I feel more tired than brave," Anna confessed. "I just… I don't want to hide it anymore and sit there like a good girl while people talk down on people like me. Elsa… well, we got into an argument and it came out. I came out. With you, I just feel like I can trust you." Anna sighed, "Is it okay if I crash in your cabin tonight? I- I don't think I should go back to mine yet."

"She took it that bad?" Rapunzel asked, reaching over to perch a hand on Anna's bicep. "That sucks… I'm really sorry. After the past few days, I started to think maybe you could be the one to unfreeze the Ice Queen, y'know? But maybe…" Shaking her head, she said, "Nah, I shouldn't say anything about her, either. I talk a lot more than I should, if you haven't noticed."

"Elsa's not a bad person," Anna insisted to her friend, frowning. "She's our Mama's kid just as much as I'm Papa's… actually, Elsa took it much better than I expected. I just can't face her right now." She stood up on numb legs, groaning at the pins and needles that were only intensified from the cold. "Thank you, Punzie, for listening..."

"Wait!" Popping up next to Anna, she caught her by the elbow. "You don't have to run off. Um… yeah, Snow is sleeping over with Aurora and Belle. So if you wanna use her bunk…"

"Thanks." Anna smiled at her and they started walking towards the cabin. There was a pleasant silence between the two, just the quiet song of cicadas in the distance. Then Anna's face fell.

"I don't know how I'm going to face the kids tomorrow… I mean, they'll know something's up…"

Shrugging, Rapunzel said, "I dunno, either. We'll just have to see how it shakes out when we get there, right? I mean, maybe you can just pretend everything's the same and, um, see if Elsa will follow your lead?"

"Yeah, I'll try that. Better than nothing, anyway."

Entering the cabin made Anna let out a sigh of pleasure at the warmth. "You know, it's been a long time since I had a sleepover," she exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood, and added, "If you aren't tired, we can watch a movie, or do each other's hair or something!" The thought of a fun night helped Anna take her mind off her sister and the day ahead.

"No movies; camp rules, remember?" But then she hastily followed up with, "But I would! Totally! Um… yeah, my hair's a choppy mess, but if you wanna put it in little braids, that sounds cool! And I can put yours in a French braid — my mom taught me!"

Anna's face fell briefly, having forgotten that rule, but it lifted again when Rapunzel offered to play with her hair. "I would like that," she said, and started working on freeing her hair from their own braids, shaking it free and running her fingers through until her hair fell in soft auburn waves, roughly to about her shoulder blades.

Having mostly just her dad and Kristoff, Anna didn't do things like this often. It had been Elsa or Mama who used to do her hair when she still visited, and Esmeralda taught her how to do her signature twin braids on her own without making them look like a sloppy mess. So she was really excited to see her hair in a different style than what she was used to.

"It's so pretty and soft," Rapunzel whispered once she was running a brush through it, voice warm and as soothing as the motions. "I'm jealous; I tried to go blonde when my hair was super long, but the treatments kinda fried it and I ended up just chopping it all off."

She hummed in sympathy but was mostly distracted by the therapeutic feel of the brush and the soothing sound of Rapunzel's voice. "You look good the way you are now," she reassured, eyes closing. "I mean, I'm sure you would've looked great with long blond hair, but the way you look now suits you." She cracked an eye open to throw a warm smile over at Rapunzel. "Besides, long-haired blondes are my type, so that might've been awkward." She couldn't help but worry that the joke was a little much but it was out now.

"O-oh, really?" The laughter that followed was distinctly nervous, but mainly good-natured. "I, um… thank you? Wait, that's probably not the right thing to say here…" She let out a little growl of frustration at herself. "I promise, I'm not gonna be this dumb in a few days. You're really cool, I could tell from the first day! This is just… y'know, new territory. An adjustment for my hetero brain."

A chuckle was followed by Anna resting her hand on Rapunzel's arm and giving it a pat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't make jokes when you only just found out…" She paused and smiled softly to herself. "Thank you again, Rapunzel, you don't know how much this means to me."

After a few more contemplative seconds, she said, "I can guess. When I fight with my parents, I just have to lock the door to my room upstairs and wait it out for a while because I can't face them. Or they can't handle talking to me without being, y'know, all parental about it and acting like I'm just a stupid kid. Sometimes, it feels like I'm gonna be in there for the rest of my life. So… even though I don't really get what you're going through, I definitely understand what it's like to need space."

The smile that next graced Anna's lips was a tad bitter. "I still feel bad. Dropping a bomb and then leaving her like that. I just didn't know what else to do… Elsa's always liked being alone when she feels overwhelmed and I couldn't stand the way she looked at me." She shivered and hugged herself.

"Well… she's probably in the same place I am. It's new. And like you said, she's overwhelmed. Give it some time, okay? Talk to her tomorrow. And even if she's still freaking out, then that just means she needs more time, right? It's probably harder for her 'cause she's known you longer."

"You're right," Anna sighed. "All I can do is sit and wait for tomorrow and see where we go from there." She desperately hoped that Elsa would still want her in her life. That they could go forward together without being split apart for a second and possibly final time. The optimist inside her piped up that Elsa wouldn't do that — that she would love her all the same, and Anna decided to believe that for now.

Despite the cold whisper from the other half of her psyche that told her she had thought that about her mother, too, and had been burned for it.

"Hey, how's that braid coming?"

"About half done," Rapunzel told her with a smile, fingers making quick work of entwining the three groupings of hair. "So… um, you and girls. How's that working out so far?"

"My first kiss was from a girl." Anna's voice wasn't as cheery as usual but it was clear by her fond tone that she had perked up from the question. "My friend Mulan surprised me by kissing me just before she had to go back to China to be with her family. And not just a friend-kiss. That's when I really started thinking about my sexuality. I went on a date with a few boys here and there, and even went out with a guy named Hans for a couple of months, but there is something about women that I find I like a bit more." She giggled, "Then my ex-girlfriend Esme waltzed into my life, and there was no more doubting where my main interest lay."

"And I haven't even been on a real date-date with Flynn yet," she breathed in wonder. "And here's you, figuring out you're… mostly-gay, or whatever, and kissing two girls when I've barely kissed the one boy! Like, we're about the same age, right? I always thought I was saving myself for marriage, and that it was a really good thing. Is that dumb? Should I be dating more, even though I think Flynn is the right man for me?"

"If it feels right, that's all that matters, Punzie." The warm words of her Papa from the day she had confessed her conflicted feelings came back to Anna, so she passed them along: "If you think Flynn is the man for you, then you don't need to date anyone else. I don't find it dumb that you're waiting for marriage, or not kissing, especially if you aren't comfortable. You should do things at your own pace and not feel ashamed for it." Anna shook her very gently, to make sure she was still listening. "If this Flynn loves you, he will wait until you are ready. If he doesn't and tries to push you, he isn't worth it."

At those words, Rapunzel smiled and let out a soft chuckle. "Well… he does push for kisses. But not too much. And he never, ever brings up going further; he knows we're waiting and it's as important to him as it is to me." Then she added in a whisper, "But maybe I do want to try kissing now; I mean, we're over eighteen, right? And we're still together after a year of courtship."

"If you feel you're ready, then kiss him," Anna encouraged. "And don't just not do it if you think that it's something the Bible frowns upon. Kissing isn't a sin, believe me." She remembered sharing that particular worry with her father and having him exaggeratedly regale all the times her Bible-strict mother used to kiss him before they were married, much to Anna's embarrassment. "Congratulations on that, by the way! A year!"

"Thanks," she giggled with a bashful smile. "He's such a dork, but he's my dork." Then she patted Anna's shoulders. "All done! You know, I think I have an extra shower cap, if you wanna bag it up so it'll still look nice tomorrow."

Anna stood up and walked over to the mirror over Snow's desk. She was instantly struck by just how different and pretty she looked with her hair draped into a single, elegant braid down her back. She looked kind of like a redheaded version of Elsa, and the thought made Anna smile.

"I think I'd like that; we'll see what the kids have to say about my new look." She spun on her heel and felt the slight smack of the braid against her shoulder, which made her giggle. "What do you think, Rapunzel?"

"I think you look fantastic!" she gushed, clapping her hands. "And not just because it's my handiwork, I swear! Like, your hair is just made to be braided, dude!"

Snorting at the little "dude" thrown in there, she looked back at the mirror and smiled, admiring the image looking back… and her traitorous brain wondered how Elsa would react to seeing her like this. Would she be impressed at how mature she looked? Would she say anything?

"I think we should head to bed now," Anna announced after a long moment. Her enthusiasm was curbed by the unexpected bout of tiredness that came with the thought. She cursed herself inwardly for ruining her good mood again. "It's really late."

"Yeah," Rapunzel admitted with a sad little nod. "I mean, if you need to talk more, I'll be just a few feet away, though. Don't be afraid to speak up! Oh, and um, I don't have an extra toothbrush or anything, but I have some jammies! If you want 'em. They have little green lizards all over." After a second, she added in a mutter, "I like lizards."

It didn't take long for Anna to get dressed and ready for bed, her hair carefully tucked into a shower cap to keep the beautiful braid intact while she slept. The pajamas were a little small on her since Rapunzel was shorter, but Anna didn't mind as she slipped hesitantly into Snow's bunk.

"She won't be mad?"

"Nah. I'll explain if she is, but I kinda doubt that'll happen. She's not petty." As she snuggled into her bunk, Rapunzel whispered across, "Hey, Anna?"

Anna snuggled into the blankets, which were made from some very warm, soft material that felt like heaven against her bare patches of skin. "Yes Punzie?" she replied when she got comfortable, already feeling the toll of the day taking over and the dark blanket of unconsciousness starting to settle in her brain.

"I… I know it was hard to trust me, with your secret and all… but I…" Her voice was a little more strained when she spoke again. "I'm so glad I stood up to Pastor Frollo today. So, so glad."

"Thanks for standing up to him, Rapunzel," Anna murmured sleepily, hiding a smile into her pillow. "I'm really glad you did, too. It's really nice knowing someone cares." She blinked and let out a sigh. "You're a good friend and I'm really glad to have met you."

She struggled to stay awake and say more, but the bed was too comfortable and the pull of sleep too tempting. With a last hum, she closed her eyes and gave in.

                                         To Be Continued...

[juliea-moon]

Baekhyun – Content

Characters: Baekhyun x OC

Type: Angst, Fluff

Word count: 1656

A/N: [4/9]

“Go and pack your things, Love. You will live with me from now on.”

It wasn't her fault, nobody should feel guilty of it. But Yoora sure did, somehow.

Her relationship with her brother was not good, it was never good, it wasn't even bearable. It was broken and halfway non-existent. Yongsuk's feeling was not hate anymore, he detested her, loathed. Why else would a brother be so horrible to his little sister? Whenever he could, he would insult her, shout at her, hit her. Let his anger out on his little sister, even if she was the one who looked after him and their little apartment. She was the one who he should thank on his knees for not abandoning such a good for nothing brother. Someone who disregards other people and lives in his own little world without thinking about consequences, without taking the responsibilities of an adult.

Sitting down on one of the benches in the park, Yoora sighed out and looked up to the blue sky. The weather was warm and incredibly soothing for her tired body. Working two part-time jobs was taking its toll on her. One in the morning till the afternoon as a barista and one in the evenings till early mornings as a bartender in one of the popular bars. While both jobs were nicely paid, it was nearly impossible for her to rest and get the sleep she desperately needed.

But there wasn't anything she could do. While she never really experienced the loss of money, she needed both jobs as her brother was a gambler and alcoholic, who didn't know when to stop and leave it be.

Now, why didn't she leave him be and went on with her own life? He was the reason for all her misery, but she couldn't do that. He was her only family member left, the only one she had in this world. For her, living in that misery was easier and better than living alone in complete loneliness. Besides, how could she leave him be and start a new life if he could follow her? She was sure that he had no intentions of letting her live in peace. Just thinking about it was depressing.

It was not the first time for Yoora to go to the park and relax. Whenever she had time, she would just sit there thinking about her life thoroughly. Always the same topic, always the same thoughts. It was more of a routine, maybe that's why Baekhyun always came to this part of the park after noticing her.

The moment he saw her for the first time in the bar, he was confused. She was more of the innocent type of girl. One that would stay far from the nightlife and rather be staying at home, doing her homework diligently. Too innocent to work in a bar, which is also why she sparked his interest. Yet he never planned on talking to her. A simple interest wasn't going to change his life.

But fate had its ways. Walking around the city some days later, just after finishing a small deal, he found her in the park sitting on a bench. Her form was small, her gaze directed on the ground as she ignored everyone around her. Nothing was extraordinary, not until he found her the next day on the same spot and the day after that. And somehow between his hectic work and tasks, he found himself actually watching her. Getting further intrigued by her.

Today, she was sitting on the same bench again. This time, though, he would approach her, talk to her. Just watching her wasn't doing it anymore. He needed to hear her voice, have her eyes fixed on him, acknowledge his existence. Walking up to her, he sat down beside her silent figure, noting her body tensing up almost instantly.

“Beautiful day today, isn't it?” He started, awaiting a response to her, but the girl beside him was only humming along. No intention of talking with the good-looking stranger. Turning towards her, he eyed her features closely.

“Have you been crying?” He furrowed his eyebrows, a feeling of protectiveness washing over him at the sight of her red swollen eyes.

“None of your business.” She meekly replied, not unkindly, trying to contain the gathering tears. Crying alone outside was one thing, but crying in front of a stranger was not what she wanted. But that is exactly what was going on. Yoora just couldn't stop the sobs from ripping out, her tears streaming down her cheeks. Why wasn't she able to do what was good for her? Why was she letting herself get hurt?

Seeing the girl sob silently, Baekhyun eyes softened incredibly. Seeing her so broken, hurt him. He didn't know how to react to her, how to tone down the pain. So he just started to talk randomly, starting with his name and what he liked to do in his free time. Of course, while adding his wit and charms into every sentence.

“Well, I am Byun Baekhyun and I like to cry alone in parks too, sometimes.”

That sentence alone earned him a genuine chuckle from the girl and the wanted eye contact as she introduced herself. That was it, for their first encounter.

But a second one was following and a third one, soon with an exchange of numbers and small meetups. Baekhyun never dared to ask why she had cried, he would wait until she was ready to tell him herself.

Yoora found a friend in Baekhyun, one she desperately needed. Since then, she was more awake,  full of energy and want to live well. Something in her changed with meeting him and she couldn't be any more grateful.

It was a nice feeling to have someone, who seemed to find oneself important. She wasn't alone anymore, she had someone to depend on.

However, Baekhyun wanted to be more than that. He needed her to be more than just a friend because the thought of her belonging to others was killing him. He wanted to be able to call her his, to protect her officially and not just as someone who stayed on the sideline.

He started to indicate his interest in her in form of more meetups, he started to call them dates and made her small gifts. Yoora felt loved and couldn't stop herself from falling for him. Was it going to be her doom? She never thought about it and honestly, she didn't really care. The feelings Baekhyun was igniting in her were indescribable, she never wanted it to stop. And Baekhyun would make sure that they wouldn't.

“Come on, we just started dating, we need to go out probably, officially! I will pick you up so we can have a good day!” He pleaded, finding himself pouting at her. Would someone see him now, he would have to kill them on the spot? But for her, he'd do anything in a heartbeat. Giving up his life for her any day. That is how much his love for her went, and further, way further.

Not being able to stand his adorable gaze on her, she gave in. “Okay, okay. I will. But please, don't knock or ring the bell, okay? Call me and I'll come out.”

“What?” He frowned. “Why?”

“Don't ask.” Yoora pleaded. “Please just do it.”

Nodding once, Baekhyun left the topic. He'd surely find out why soon enough. And he would because he wasn't planning on doing what you wanted. He never agreed probably.

The moment he was in front of her door, he walked up and rang the bell. He would make sure to know why his Yoora seemed to be so adamant about it. He was not dumb. Either she had very strict parents, which he could deal with, or fear of what would happen. Maybe even both.

And when the door was opened, he knew exactly why. Breaking out into a devilish smirk, he kicked the door open the moment Yoora's brother tried to threw it shut in horror.

“My my if it isn't Yongsuk.” He chuckled while walking in, his hands in his pants pocket as he looked down at the figure on the ground.“Missed me?”

“B-Baekhyun.” Yongsuk gulped, fear evident in his eyes. “How did you find me?”

Raising his eyebrows, Baekhyun scoffed. “I wasn't even searching. I wouldn't waste my time for scum like you, especially those that abuse their little sister.” He growled out, stepped onto Yongsuk's hand, who cried out in pain after. “I should have ended you way before!”

“Please, don't kill me, I know that I am in debt with you. But I don't have the money!” The guy on the ground broke out into ugly sobs. “I'll give you anything, but please spare my life! Don't kill me!”

Yet before Baekhyun could break out into a hollow laughter, Yoora's shocked face came into his view.

“Baekhyun?” She eyed the situation, the confusion apparent in her eyes.

Ignoring his heart for a second, Baekhyun forced himself to focus on the guy on the ground. “Anything you said?” Taking the desperate nods from the guy as an answer, his attention was back on the only human being it was worth.

“Go and pack your things, Love.” He gently, yet strongly told her. His tone made clear that he wasn't taking a no for an answer. “You will live with me from now on.”

Maybe she shouldn't have listened, he was a dangerous man after all. But she found herself in complete bliss, for he was treating her like she was worth life like she was the light in his life. She never dreamed of a better future, she was delighted to be where she is now, besides Baekhyun. She was finally content.

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