#shes like beat up bruised black eye etc etc WHAT HAPPENED. SPEAK TO ME

[cuntstable]

my cervix hurts so bad WTF HAPPEN…holding her like i would a dying soldier in the tranches WHAT HAPPENED

[bayisdying]

Imagine being the Dagger Squad's youngest member and the others find out you are in an abusive relationship

TW: cheating, cursing, domestic violence, etc. Please do not read if these things are triggering to you.

A/N: if you or anyone you know is in an abusive relationship please know that there are many resources out there to help remove you/them from the situation. It is never easy to walk away from a relationship like this but please know it is possible. I have provided some different ways to speak to someone below. Please utilize them and save a life.

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Hours: 24/7. Languages: English, Spanish and 200+ through interpretation service

(800) 799-7233

Or text START to 88788

Or visit their official website at

----------‐----------------

So as the youngest member of the Daggers you get the designated as the "baby" of the group.

Your call sign is "Dove"

They know you can damn sure handle yourself but they never let you.

Literally you wouldn't have to lift a finger, and sometimes it annoys you but you know they mean the best.

"You know I can make my own bowl of cereal right Phoenix?"

"Yes but I wanted to do it for you."

Mav is even more Dad Mode around you than even Bradley. (You're the favorite. But shhh you aren't supposed to know that.)

"Bob what is all this?"

"I was at the store and I knew you would want some snacks."

Basically they take care of you alllllll the time

Anyways you meet this guy. We will call him Kyle. He's also Navy but NOT an aviator.

After a few dates you take him to the Hard Deck to introduce him to your squad.

They don't like him right off the bat but you seem happy and your happiness is all they want.

A few months pass with you and Kyle hanging out with the team as often as possible. But slowly and surely you stop showing up giving some lame excuse as to why you aren't going out.

"Where were you last night Dove? You missed Fanboy finally beating Hangman at darts."

"I had a headache Roos, I just wanted to go home and rest."

If you do go?

Either Kyle is hovering over you OR if he's not there you only have time for one round then you have to leave.

You try sneaking out the front door without anyone noticing.

They all notice, they just don't say a word.

He starts accusing you of cheating on him with literally every guy you know.

"I know you're fucking that Ken Doll behind my back."

The hitting starts gradually. It started as shoving you into walls then escalated.

He knows better than giving you obvious bruises so he makes sure they are well hidden.

Phoenix notices them in the locker room.

"Hey Dovey, what happened to your hip?"

"I fought a doorframe and the doorframe won."

She absolutely does not fucking believe you but she doesn't want to make a big deal out of it just yet. But she does keep an eye out for you even more than usual.

As the relationship continues he gets less careful and one day you show up to training with a black eye.

Rooster is instantly Mother Henning you.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"It's nothing Roos."

"Nothing? Dove you have a black eye."

"I'm fine."

He drops it but he damn sure doesn't forget how scared you looked when you told him you were fine.

One night at the Hard Deck you flinch when Payback almost elbows you while playing darts. You had never flinched so hard before.

"Are you okay Dove?"

"Yeah sorry you just caught me off guard."

They all know you're lying.

Hangman is the first one to speak up.

"It's him isn't it?"

"What are you talking about Hangman?"

"The bruises, the flinching, it's because of him isn't it?"

"Jake..."

"Don't lie to me Dove. Please."

"I'm fine."

One day it all comes to a head. Penny was opening the Hard Deck early for the Dagger Squad potluck.

You were in charge of desserts and were making your grandma's famous cherry pies

Kyle didn't know where you were going and he was supposed to be at work all day so you thought you could leave and have fun.

Unfortunately for you Kyle comes home from work early.

And questions where you're going with cherry pies.

You try to explain yourself but he doesn't even wait for it.

He immediately throws the glass pie pans at the floor and starts yelling at you.

You're so sure this is the time he kills you.

Instead he storms out of the house leaving you sitting on the kitchen floor amongst the shattered glass and pie pieces. Crying your eyes out.

The Daggers were worried that you hadn't shown up yet

So Jake calls you.

"Hey Dove, where are you sweetheart?"

You can't answer him so you choke out a sob and simply say "Jake.."

He goes full protection mode and puts you on speaker phone so everyone else can hear you faintly crying.

"We will be right there sweetheart."

They load up everybody into 2 cars and rush to your house.

Jake totally almost kicked your door in, but Bradley got your spare key from the flower pot and spared your door.

They find you where Kyle had left you.

Mav and Penny go into Parent Mode.

Penny gives everyone jobs.

Phoenix, Bob, and Fanboy are in charge of packing all your stuff.

Payback, Coyote, and Rooster are in charge of cleaning up the mess of glass and pie.

Maverick is in charge of calling Ice and getting the ball rolling on getting Kyle discharged from the Navy.

Penny and Jake help you up and into a bathroom where they clean you up as much as they can.

Jake's hands are soft as they inspect every bruise and wipe away the tears that can't stop falling.

You keep trying to apologize but he shushes you.

"It's not your fault sweetheart."

Penny leaves you two to help clean up the kitchen and check the status of packing.

"Jake.."

"Sweetheart it's okay. You did nothing wrong."

"But..."

"No. It's all on him."

You have never seen Hangmans eyes seem so soft.

He picks you up bridal style, and puts you in your cars passenger side.

He goes back inside to tell the others he is going to take you to his place and that they can meet there after they were done.

You are quiet the whole drive, which is not normal. You are usually vibrant and talkative. Especially around Jake.

Once you get to Jake's house he gives you some of his clothes to change into. (😏)

You fall asleep on the couch in his arms (ayyyo)

The rest of the Daggers show up and they discuss what they can do about this.

Phoenix suggests murder.

Nobody disagrees with her.

Except Bob. Sweet Bob wants to torture him slowly first. Murder is too kind.

They don't care what happens, all they know is nobody messes with their Baby sister.

One year later, you are in therapy, and making great strides in your recovery.

Kyle was dishonorably discharged from the Navy.

And in a not so surprising twist?

You and Hangman are happily together. You never moved out of his house and it became your home too.

You adopt a dog together that you named Leo.

It will take some time for all your mental wounds to heal, but with Jake by your side? You know you can get through anything.

And especially with your adopted parents Mav and Penny?

And your crazy siblings?

Oh yeah, you'll be okay.

And you still don't have to lift a finger or make your own bowl of cereal.

A/N: again please please please use the resources at the top for the domestic violence hotline. It is such a good resource. I know it's scary but you can leave and you can survive. I believe in you.

Tagging the forever besties: @kloofspeaks @itzyogurl92 @callsign-milano @callsignthirsty @roosterscockpit

[bookofmirth]

(Long ask btw)

Coming from someone who was quite neutral on the ships until the bonus chapter (Azriel and Elain had there moments and Gwyn was a nice addition but the actual book didn’t seem to have that much of a romantic coding between them), I find it rather odd when people say Rhys was out of line. Even though I’m not the biggest fan of Rhys (especially during ACOSF) I found his action reasonable and not just in a High Lord to subject power dynamic. I think a lot of people were rushing to finish the chapter and see what was going to happen next, that they didn’t bother to see the reasons of Rhysand’s actions beyond the answer he stated.

Before he even told Azriel he couldn’t go after Elain he asked many questions to his brother. “What are your plans?” We see in Azriel’s mind he admits he hadn’t thought past his sexual fantasies. “What about Mor?” Azriel ignores this question and rather talks about how The third sister was given (not meant, but given like some object) to another. “You think you deserve her?” (Important to note that Rhys visibly pales here I believe) Rather than answer that very important question Azriel speaks on behalf of Elain to say she doesn’t want Lucien (which we don’t truly know as we don’t have her POV).

It is then and only then after those 3 vital questions-questions that should be convincing us that Azriel and Elain are supposed to be together- go completely ignored that Rhys tells Azriel to stay away from Elain. People seem to forget that these two are brothers. It was obvious to me that Rhys saw something amiss with Azriel (as seen with his reactions to Azriel’s responses) and from there told him to stay away. It was from the aspect of a High Lord to his subject and one brother to another that Rhys came from. Azriel is a toxic character right now and Rhys, his brother who has know him for 500 years and who is a literal mind readers, knows that.

I would also like to add that it is canon that the brother beat the ever-living crap out of each other (like bleeding, bruises, black eyes, etc) when they are mad, yet telling the other to not pursue a girl who they clearly put on a pedestal, who they only care sexually about, who they think they are entitled to, is where y’all draw the line????

This ask is one of the most valid things I've ever read.

We've all been so concerned about what Azriel did or didn't say, that we haven't thought about whether or not he was given the opportunity, or was allowed an opening, to talk about how he feels about Elain. And he was given that opportunity, explicitly.

What are your plans with Elain? Nothing.

And your feelings for Mor? Nothing.

You think you deserve "the third sister" (since Az doesn't even say "Elain")? Nothing.

All of those are important questions, and they aren't straight-up "how do you feel about her" because that's not what anyone is looking for. (Ugh, if only it were that easy.) That would be the definition of telling us the story, rather than showing it. I don't think that sjm is the queen of showing - in fact I think that she tells quite a bit. But in this scene, Sarah Rhys asks Azriel three times about what he thinks or feels towards Elain/Mor, and Azriel refuses to answer. And at a moment like this, of all moments? When he knows that Rhys is pissed at him and has said to not go near her? He has nothing better to say than deflection??

Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

Rhys's face drained of color. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?"

That just reinforces that it's not about Elain at all. And it's certainly not about his feelings for her, because the slightest hint to Rhys that Azriel had feelings, and Rhys would have changed his tune. Rhys knows Azriel better than anyone else, except maybe Cassian. And even Rhys's face lost color, as you noted, when he heard how Azriel was talking about Elain (or refusing to, rather). He was disturbed. And a literal mind reader as you also pointed out. Rhys knows what’s up.

[ohmy7hearts]

spring gale

Summary: Spring means new beginnings but a gale (a storm more like?) in the name of Shinazugawa Sanemi blows your plans out and throw your once peaceful life into the winds.

Pairings: Shinazugawa Sanemi x Fem!Reader // future Shinazugawa Genya x SisterFigure!Reader 

A/N: this,,, is v impromptu. i literally got out of my bed bc it has been bugging me with how little sanemi fanfics there are, esp modern aus. tbh, there have been plenty of fics brewing in my mind and tell me if there’s any you’d be interested in and maybe i will return from my hiatus hah:

 - zhongli modern au: adepti babies being your adopted children and navigating parenthood 

- unknown pairing as of now but travelers being your kids so transporting yourself into the world to find them after 500+ years of not returning home 

- etc involving atsumu, diluc, childe but if you have any requests, feel free to drop it in and maybe i’ll consider them

Warnings: Some cursing (I mean it’s Sanemi lolol)

“Shinazugawa-san?” Sanemi glanced up, his hands continued packing away his things into the bag, an eyebrow raised. You smiled, hands folded over the other in front of you, as you continued to speak after gaining his attention. “When would you be free to do the project?”

He sighed, throwing his bag over his shoulder, while making his way out of the classroom - tone and body language showing his disinterest in the conversation. “We can just do it in class.”

You jogged to get into step next to him, “Well, it is for the bare minimum. I’m sure we can do much better than that.” You observed his side profile to see if any emotion could give way to what he was thinking. You frowned, frustration creeping up on you, “I understand that we’re not each other’s first choice in partners but that’s not an excuse to not do our best.”

“Are grades and studying the only thing in that airhead of yours?” His eyes flit towards yours for a moment before returning its gaze forward. “I don’t fucking have as much free time as you.”

You stopped following him. A bolt of anger and disbelief had your mouth dropping and hands curling into shaking fists. You scoffed, voice raising with each word, “I believe you need this more than me, Shinazugawa-san. Unless you want to continue being a pain in everyone’s ass and eventually not even graduate, then be my guest.” 

He swiveled towards you. You flinched reactively. He faltered, face momentarily flitting from anger to surprise back to annoyance the moment his eyes scanned you. One step, two steps. He was in your space, breathing in and out to you, with his  strikingly cold eyes and thin eyebrows furrowed. “Say that again, I dare you.”

You closed your eyes before releasing a deep sigh, muscles easing from the hold of your anger. “We don’t have to do it after school or on the weekends if you are that occupied. We can do it before school or during our breaks and even before our clubs start.” You grabbed one of his wrist, turning his palm upwards, shoving the crumpled paper with your number into it while fixating your glare on him throughout. You refuse to back down but you will be the bigger person. Forcing his hand to a close, you narrowed your eyes for good measure while trying to control the smirk from overtaking your face when his frown further deepened in distaste. Taking a step back, your hands returned to the usual folded stance, you forced an amicable smile to replace the smirk - although you have a feeling that he could still see the smirk from how his eye twitched, “Of course, it’s really up to you, Shinazugawa-san.”

Turning on your heel, you headed back to the classroom with your head held high and a full-blown smirk on your face while your peers watched with stolen glances and whispers behind hands or under breaths. The clicking of his tongue echoed in the corridor and in your head all the way back to the classroom. 

“Ara, ara, should you really do that (Y/N)-chan?” Shinobu greeted you by your desk, eyes filled with mirth from the free entertainment.

You laughed airily, eyes not meeting hers but focused on clearing the messy table, “I wouldn’t have to if he wasn’t that difficult.” 

“Not many survive Sanemi you know?” Shinobu followed you to the student council room. “One must use their life's worth of luck to crawl out from his bad side.” 

A bark of a laugh escaped you from her exaggeration. “Shinobu-chan ~ I thought you wanted to get into medicine and not theatrics?”

Her eyes met yours, a smirk tugging on her lips, eyes shifting precariously into ones when she knew something the other party doesn’t and in this case that was you. A shiver ran down your spine. You’ve been in the spot only a few times but still a few too many with most of them ending up jerking your view of the world down a path you’ve never considered. You gulped, hands itching and playing with themselves. 

“Did you not hear about how he got into a fight with some university boys down at the park?” She leaped into your space, voice dropping into a whisper in your ear yet head tilted to ensure a front seat view to your reaction. “He came out with a couple of scratches and bruises but…” Her small hands encircled your upper arm. Your eyes dropping to them before returning to her face - surprised to witness your shock colouring your face white as it was reflected in those big eyes of hers. “The boys said to be much bigger than he is, had to go to the hospital.” Her smile bordering on unhinged glee, she drawled, “They were so scared they didn’t sue him.”

She immediately returned to her spot beside you, a foot away, while her shoulders and arms lifted in a form of a shrug nonchalantly. “Apparently, when questioned, the boys said something about them being the ones out of line and they have worked things out.” 

Being close friends with Shinobu and Mitsuri meant that you were privy to the latest gossip and news but you always took it with a grain of salt seeing firsthand how some things were purposefully voided or added for the enjoyment of teenagers. You smiled unsurely, “that’s just a rumour Shinobu-chan.”

She pouted, invisible to those who didn't know her well enough or who weren’t keen enough, “You can ask Akio. He was a witness.”

Your eyes widened before blinking in incredulity. “What.”

She giggled, hand raising in a wave before dashing down the corridor. “Do share with me if he tells you more!” 

It took you a few seconds to regain your bearings, even a shake of your head to rid the mental image of Sanemi punching away on people bigger than him for his amusement. He was by no means a small person shown clearly with the muscles seen even through the school uniform - a testament to his achievements as one of the greatest fighters in the taekwondo club despite his lacklustre participation of actually attending said club practices - but there were certainly bigger and taller people in your school, much less university. 

“Hashimoto-san!” You snapped out of your musings.

“Tanaka-san.” You greeted back. The black haired guy chuckled, “I told you to call me by my first name. After all, we’ve been working together for 3 years. Unless, you don’t see me as a friend? Damn, it must hurt to only be seen as a student council partner even after winning the presidential election together.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You huffed, plopping down into the chair and hands gravitating towards the papers on the table before being stopped by a hand on your wrist. Raising an eyebrow, he returned the gesture indicating there’s something he was expecting you to tell him. He released the grasp on your hand the moment you were falling back onto the back support of the chair with a sigh. “How may I help you Akio?”

“On the way here, I heard an interesting piece of news.” He sat sideways on the table, the leg on the table folded over the leg still standing. You folded your arms over your chest and hummed. “You and Shinazugawa were fighting?”

“It was just a talk that got a bit heated. I was trying to get a hold on him so we can do our project for literature together.” 

Akio’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared under his bangs. “Wow, what luck. First, he somehow got into your class through that stupid maths shit and now you have to deal with him.” He smiled in assurance, eyes crinkling close and  a hand over his heart. “Be careful but if anything happens, I’m here. I’ll come running to save my beloved president.”

You mouthed a wow. Silence blanketed the both of you as you nod in understanding - lips trying to contain the smiles and laughs - as he continued to express his devotion through his hand gestures - hand flying to point at you before returning to over his chest, patting it, then forming into a prayer of sorts - all the while mouthing his loyalty to you. 

With a shake of your head and hands indicating him to leave as you pulled yourself closer to your table, “Thanks but I doubt I need it.”

Instead, he tilted his head backwards and narrowed his eyes on the ceiling. “If you see what I saw, I wouldn’t put too much faith in him.”

Blood freezes over while questions overwhelm your mind. You gulped and licked your lips to get rid of the sudden dryness, “And what exactly are they?”

“He didn’t stop beating them up or screaming at them even when they were down. Three policemen had to pry him off and restrain him.”

Your heart dropped.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

Painted - Chapter One

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was.

10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting.

Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would.

Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

No Beta currently, all mistakes are my own!

Pairing: Dean/Reader

Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc.

Chapter One

Everything has a color. To Y/N, violence was red. She pulled back her arm, her fist colliding with the heft of her punching bag with a soft thud . One, two, kick. She liked training alone, it centered her, cleared her mind. She didn’t have to worry about pulling her punches, avoiding the knees when she kicked. The biggest danger was the skin on her knuckles, which were expertly wrapped.

It all started as self defense, a way to ease her mind as she walked back to her Jeep on the dark nights, but it had evolved to something else altogether. She didn’t fight because she was afraid, she fought because she was pissed . She was pissed that she had to learn to defend herself; that other women did. She taught classes so that her community would be safe, so that they’d find less women abandoned in ditches beaten to death.

But when she was alone, it was something else completely. The why of the thing was a mystery most of the time, even to her. People used to ask her if she was afraid she would see him again. She wasn't, not really. But she kept fighting anyway, and she would be lying if his face wasn’t the one she pictured every time her fist collided with the bag.

The beat of her music throbbed in her ears like an angry heartbeat as she went for an uppercut that rattled the bag. She was panting, sweat rolling down her temple. Each hit was a beat of her heart, causing the bag to come alive. With each swing she made, it swung back at her. She was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. One, two, kick.

Her watch chimed to alert her that she hit her workout goal for the day, but she had more fire within her that needed to be extinguished. It was a long workout, even for her, but she had a lot on her mind. If she was thinking about the ache of her knuckles and burning in her biceps, she was less likely to obsess over the things she couldn’t control. So she hit the bag again and again.

The sun was starting to speckle through the blinds on the storefront window, making the sweat on her arms glisten like diamonds. She considered, just for a moment, how the coast would look against the purples and oranges of the sunrise. She could have a coffee and just enjoy the silence. Or she could keep fighting. That answer was easy. She didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty in life. She hadn’t for a long time. All of the colors had lost their brightness, the depth that he used to talk about so frequently. The thing that kept him mixing until it was just right.

She hadn’t thought of him in so long, so when the thought came to her, she didn’t react fast enough to the bag swinging back toward her from her last hit. It collided directly with her face, sending her backwards onto the mat. A loud, painful crack echoed through her skull as her nose collided with the bag. She laid there for a moment, groaning. She tried to sit up, her nose throbbing and her mouth filling with blood from the hit. “Fuck me,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Trauma was black. According to her therapist, there were different types of trauma. Y/N learned that they all could be sorted into one of three main categories: acute trauma that results from a single incident, chronic trauma that is repeated and prolonged such as domestic violence or abuse, and complex trauma which is exposure to varied and multiple traumatic events, often of an invasive, interpersonal nature. More so, there was capital T trauma and what she called little t trauma . Capital T was the big stuff, the stuff that wrecks a person in an irreparable way. Little t was less so. It is possible for a traumatized person to get over a little t trauma.

In Y/N’s life she’d seen her fair share of trauma. Probably more than a thirty-three year old woman should’ve. She’d seen trauma happen to others, happen to herself, and continue to happen in case after case that she worked. She saw trauma that others didn’t. The kind of trauma that couldn’t be seen from the outside. The kind of trauma that a person inflicts upon themselves.

She was always told that trauma healed over time, like a bruise, but for her, trauma was a cut that kept reopening. It was a scab that she couldn’t stop picking at, a bruise that seemed to deepen to a darker purple before it ever yellowed. Her eyes stung from the hit, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

The only way she knew how to heal was to move on, leave the trauma behind. Her therapist told her to imagine herself placing the memories in a box and locking them away. Sometimes, when she was alone, she could hear that box screaming, banging, and begging to be opened. She resisted the urge, especially today.

She forced herself to stand, her head spinning. She leaned against the wall to regain her balance before she walked out to her car, her head tilted back. She could feel the blood roll down the back of her throat since it was unable to escape her nostril. She’d be pissed if she broke her nose, but, from what she could tell, it seemed intact even though it hurt like a bitch.

Her headphones were askew, but still playing her workout mix. She adjusted them and spit some blood from her mouth. She wouldn’t be thwarted by a fall; no, she wouldn’t be taken down so easily. If she fell in the gym and no one was there to witness her humiliation, did she even fall? The answer to that depended on if anyone would notice her bruised nose after the fact. If they didn’t, as far as she was concerned, she had a perfect refreshing work out with no issues whatsoever. Maybe with enough makeup her secret would remain her own.

10 years earlier

The sound of his paintbrush swiping delicately against canvas was soothing to Y/N. She sat on the edge of the bed, atop black satin sheets, resting on her hands, her back arched and her legs spread just right. Her long strawberry hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves onto the sheets.

“Just like that,” Lucifer murmured, a blonde wave falling into his eye. He was focused, his tongue partially out of his mouth, his eyebrows knitted together. She wasn’t able to see the painting from her vantage point, but she knew what it was. It was always the same. I just can’t get you right, he’d complain, his voice laced with pain and disdain. She thought he made her more beautiful than she ever could be on her own.

When she’d met him, he was so focused on his art. He would eat, sleep, and drink his paintings. His clothing was speckled with oil colors, his fingers calloused from gripping paint brushes for hours on end. She found him sexy and mysterious. She was dying to know the man behind such beautiful pieces of art.

It didn’t take long for his obsession to shift from his art directly to her. He doted on her endlessly, showering her in flowers, candy, candlelight dinners. They made love constantly. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Let me paint you, Y/N,” he’d purr between her legs. “I just want to paint you.” It took her weeks to say yes. She’d always brush him off, blushing and insecure. “You’re exquisite. Please let me paint you.”

She struggled to deny Lucifer’s requests when he asked as his breath tickled the inside of her thigh. It was hard to deny him of anything , if she was being honest. The first time she said yes, he arrived in her bedroom and asked her to drop the floral robe she was wearing. He’d seen her naked dozens of times, but she was still nervous, vulnerable, staring at him. She brought him a bag, insisting that he look inside before she disrobed.

He stared at the bag, confused.

“They’re body paints,” she explained. “I thought you wanted to paint me.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They made love on the apartment floor, painting designs on each other's skin until she was swollen and wanting, gasping his name into the night.

When she woke up in the early hours of the morning, she found him painting her image onto a canvas laying splayed out, covered in swirls of sex and paint. “Don’t move,” he instructed calmly. She wanted to be angry, but she still felt drunk from being ravished, and his eyes examining her were sensual and slow. She watched his wrist spin and curl, and a chill ran up her spine.

“Lucifer, how much longer? ”

“You’re just so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“No,” she murmured, and his eyebrows knitted together.

“We will fix that,” he promised. “You will always be this beautiful.” He was talking to her, she logically knew that, but from her vantage point she could’ve sworn he was speaking to the canvas.

Present

Y/N entered the code to unlock the front gate to her property, leaning half out her car window. Thankfully, her bleeding had stopped, but her upper lip and chin were still crusty with blood. She looked like a mess, if she was being honest, but the only one there to judge her was her chocolate brown pit bull, Castiel, and Y/N figured that Cas wouldn’t care much either way.

The iron gate opened with a groan, sliding to her right. She slid back into her seat and shifted out of park to pull forward down the driveway toward her house. It was modest, nothing too big or magnificent. The outside was grey brick, a two story home with a large green yard and a pool in the back. As she pulled up, she could already see Castiel’s nose pressed against the window, her head through the thick curtains. Y/N smiled, her heart warming at the sight. She wiggled her fingers at Castiel in a small wave.

Castiel greeted her at the door, his tail wagging excitedly. She knelt down to pet his chin only to be met with deep blue eyes and a pink tongue. “I know, buddy. I need to shower somethin’ fierce.”

She kissed his nose and murmured. “I’m good. We’re good.” Half the time she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. She locked the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes. Her arms ached and her heartbeat was still residing in her sinus from her fall. She let her hair out of the tie that kept it up in a high ponytail, letting it fall down her back. Her head was sore from her hair being up for hours. She massaged her scalp with a wince. Everything hurt and she couldn’t wait to wash her problems down the drain and start fresh.

Her work out clothes were discarded on the bathroom floor, the sound of running water and the steam accumulating in the air were already starting to soothe her. She took a deep breath in through her nose with a wince before stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind her.

Y/N faced the water, letting the heat roll down her skin. The water ran brown from sweat and blood. She braced her hands on the walls of the shower to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes, letting the baptism wash her worries away. Time has a way of wrecking a person, she knew that much. It gave a false sense of security, a sense of growth and change. She spent so much time trying to put her past behind her, locked away inside of a box.

She opened her eyes and looked at the half sleeves covering her wrists and forearms. The flowers and vines twisting around her arms, climbing, and growing out of thick, pink scars - creating something beautiful out of tragedy. She had hoped, when she got them, that they would help her heal and forget. She could laugh now at that naive girl who thought anything would let her forget. Time heals wounds, yes, but the greatest ones still ached in the cold and the rain.

Suds from soap and shampoo swirled down the drain, and she reached down to turn off the water. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into her robe. She could hear Castiel whine outside of the bathroom door, unusually unhappy with not being able to see her. “You’re good, Cas,” she called out, wiping the fog from the mirror. She examined her nose. It was a little swollen and already beginning to bruise. She cursed to herself and just hoped that it’d be dull enough that her painted foundation would cover it. The last thing she needed was to worry those around her.

Castiel scratched at the door again, and she opened it, her dog circling her legs impatiently. “What is your deal?” Y/N reached down and scratched behind her ear, eliciting licks from Castiel.

Towel drying her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and rounded the corner. Her eyes were heavy, and her head pounded from the hit. She needed coffee, bad . As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, her towel falling from her hand. Castiel whined insistently, nudging Y/N’s leg with his nose. She stared face to face with something so familiar that it made her gut tighten, acid crawling up her throat.

A painting hung at her eye level in the hallway near the bathroom. Fine brush strokes of pale peach skin, strawberry twists of hair splayed out on black satin sheets, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and freckled legs spread out, exposing a delicate pink vagina tucked between them.

Y/N stared at herself. Her eyes closed, her swollen mouth, her pink cheeks on a face and head that belonged to her. Her freckled neck blended downwards onto heavy breasts with dark nipples and a mole under the right that she’d never seen before.

Her knees were weak, and she stumbled back, bumping into Castiel and tumbling backwards. She fell, hitting her tailbone on the wood floors with a hard smack . Tears burned in her eyes, from pain or fear she wasn’t sure. Castiel came to her, licking her cheek in concern.

Anxiety crept into her chest, pressing down heavily. She gasped for breath and clamped her eyes shut. She pictured the box inside of her mind, thrashing and pulsing with anger, begging to be opened. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she forced herself to stand on shaking legs. She made her way to her bedroom and quickly spun the code on her safe, pulling her gun from it. She clicked the safety off and held it in front of her.

With each room that she checked she only found an emptiness that overtook her home with a heaviness that seemed to engulf her completely. Nothing seemed strange or out of place other than the large depiction of her naked body that hung on her wall.

She kept her gun positioned outward and pulled out her cellphone, dialing the number that she could never forget. All she could hope for was an answer, and as a ring met her ear she let out a sigh of relief. It had been so long, she had expected a disconnected tone. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she heard his voice.

“Y/N?”

“He’s back.”

------

Chapter Two

Read on A03 Here

Tag List: @lyarr24

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@waywardbaby @akshi8278

[blush-and-books]

Hi! I wasn’t sure if you were still taking requests but could you do #22 for Juke? Make it angsty if you want I’m in that type of mood today 😂

From this prompt list: Kissing someone’s cuts/bruises/scratches etc. High school AU, Luke is ~edgy~, Julie is the best friend in the whole world and he has every reason to be in love with her (which he is). IDK if you’re still in an angsty mood but I made it angsty. I also went off with this one because I was having too much fun. Thank you <333

“Guys, please don’t tell Julie.”

It was early in the morning before school, and Luke was hunched over one of the dirty sinks in the bathroom while trying to nurse his bloody nose. Alex was twirling one of his drumsticks between his fingers in a nervous habit, and Reggie was propped up against one of the stall dividers. 

Luke’s face was bruised and bloody from both his nose and his own scraped knuckles that keep brushing against his cheek on accident. 

“She’ll find out,” Alex sighs, and Luke glares at him through the mirror.  “Fuck, Bobby will probably be bragging about it,” Reggie adds. 

Luke, Reggie, and Alex had been planning on going into the music room before school to quickly test out some new material that they had been working on with Julie for their rehearsal after school that day. Normally, the music teacher lets them go into a practice room and mess around, but this morning, their teacher was distracted: By Bobby Wilson. 

AKA their ex-bandmate.

Who they had found with the music teacher, hunched over a computer, playing a recording he had made of a song with eerily familiar lyrics. 

He had recorded songs that Luke wrote when they were all still in a band. And he was showing them off to their music teacher as his own. 

Their music teacher was singing Bobby’s praises, telling him how proud she was that he was developing a career, and then she excused herself to go make some sheet music copies for one of her classes -- and that is when Luke made his entrance. 

Long story short: Bobby had a black eye and some cuts on his face from Luke’s rings, and Luke had a bloody nose, some busted knuckles, and a bruise blossoming on his cheek. 

And the last thing he wanted was Julie, his best friend, finding out. She would be so mad. 

“Well then just let me handle it, please,” Luke spits. “Don’t go running to her saying ‘Luke and Bobby beat each other up-’”

The door to the boys bathroom flings open -- and an angry girl with dark, curly hair storms in. 

Julie Molina. 

While, under any other circumstances, Luke’s day would be made just by seeing her -- he knows it’s about to get a lot worse.

“Lucas Michael Patterson, you better have a fucking valid reason for getting your ass kicked or I swear to God-”

“Julie-” 

“Bobby? Seriously? I thought you decided he wasn’t worth your time?”

“If you’ll just let me explain-”

“Maybe we should go,” Reggie cuts in. Luke rounds on him. 

“You-” He points at Reggie, then Alex, “you two weren’t supposed to tell her.”

Julie speaks up again. 

“You told them to hide this from me?” “I texted her SOS as soon as we broke you and Bobby up,” Alex explains, avoiding Luke’s eyes. “Sorry. We thought she would know a little more about first aid then we do.” 

Reggie walks over to the door, and Alex follows him before Luke can tear into them more.

“Thanks, Julie,” Reggie says right before grabbing Alex’s wrist and pulling him out of the room. Luke is left alone with Julie -- and Angry Julie is not a fun Julie to be around. 

“Jules, I-”

“Save it.” 

She puts her backpack on the floor and surprisingly pulls out a bag of bandages and a container of rubbing alcohol. A small package of tissues follows, which she instantly passes to him to hold to his nose. 

Relief fills him. They’re the soft kind -- not the sandpaper stuff that the school keeps in the bathrooms. 

“Thanks for… Doing all this,” he mumbles, voice nasally. Guilt pangs at his chest when her scowl deepens and she still won’t meet his eyes. 

“Well, I knew you wouldn’t have gone to the nurse, and someone needs to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

She’s right. The nurse means admitting he got into a fight to a school employee, admitting he got into a fight to a school employee means suspension, and suspension means an upcoming raging argument with his parents. 

He’s filled with a burning warmth when she suddenly grabs his hand -- still not making eye contact with him. His knuckles are pretty torn up, and Julie starts to remove his rings one by one. 

Luke’s heart breaks a little at how much he wants to lean into her while watching her do it. He wants her to do this again, preferably when she’s not mad at him, preferably in his room or in the studio while they write songs. 

“Now,” Julie finally speaks up and breaks his trance of distraction. “What happened?”

As he inhales a deep breath, he slowly removes the tissue from his nose, which has minimized it’s bleeding. 

“Well-”

Luke’s cut off by a stream of cleansing alcohol running over his cuts and stinging every square millimeter of space. 

“Fuck! Ow!” Julie’s face remains expressionless as Luke tries to pull his hand away, but she keeps it firm in his grip. His breathing gets heavier as he tries to face the pain. “Okay, I know I fucked up, I’m sorry. I deserved that. Let me explain.”

Another drop of the alcohol splashes on his knuckles. As he hisses, Julie gives him an expectant look. 

“I’m waiting, Patterson.”

With a few more deep breaths, Luke starts. 

“We found out that Bobby recorded our songs. My songs. Songs that were supposed to go to Sunset Curve, and he stole them, and recorded them, and played them for Ms. Harrison.” Julie’s grip tightens on his fingers. He hopes she understands his anger. “And she was just so happy about it, and was giving him all these compliments, and… When she left, I confronted him, and he was being a dick, and I just… Got mad.”

Julie finishes pressing a towel to his knuckles to wipe away some of the blood, and begins to softly wrap a bandage around his hand. Her touch is more gentle than it was a minute ago. 

“Who threw the first punch?” 

Luke sighs. 

“I did.” The bandage is tugged tightly around his knuckles. “He said that I’ll never have a band ‘with that Julie girl’ that’s worth anything close to what Sunset Curve was, and that he was making a success out of what wouldn’t have been.” 

The bandage loosens. 

“I’m sorry that Bobby is a song-stealing asshole,” Julie finally says, finishing up the bandage on his right hand. Now, time for his left, so he turns fully towards her and lifts the hand towards her to take. His heart flutters when her fingers wrap around his, but it’s quickly killed by the pierce of the rubbing alcohol. “But you know you shouldn’t resort to violence. You should be the bigger person.”

“Being the bigger person doesn’t exist when you’re a teenage boy,” Luke retorts, only to be defeated by a strong pour of the alcohol once again. “But you’re right. I know you’re right.”

“As I always am.”

Well, he can’t argue with that one. 

“As you always are.”

Finally, Luke catches a small smirk on his best friend’s face, which fills him with relief. Temporarily, his attention is taken off of his burning knuckles as she calmly finishes wiping away the blood and beginning to wrap a bandage around his left hand. 

“At least tell me you kicked his ass,” she says, out of the blew. “I want to know it was worth it.”

Even in the current situation, Luke grins wider than he has all day. Julie never fails to bring it out of him. 

“I mean, not to brag, but he definitely looks worse.” Julie looks up at him, clearly wanting a full description of the other party’s injuries. “His knuckles are trashed too, but I got in a black eye and my rings tore him up pretty good. He looks like he got attacked by a raccoon.”

“As he should,” she thinks aloud. Luke nods vigorously in agreement. 

They stand in silence under the aggressively fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, and Luke spends the next thirty seconds just staring at Julie like a lovesick idiot. She looks tired (like all of them do, every morning -- they’re teenagers for God’s sake), but her hair is down and curly and beautiful, and her sweatshirt looks beyond cozy. 

Suddenly, Julie lifts Luke’s mummified left hand to her lips and presses a light, slow kiss to it. Followed by another one. 

And then, she finally looks up at him through her long eyelashes, which takes his breath away completely. Her feet shuffle a small step closer to him, and for a moment he panics that she’s going to kiss him, or he’ll lose his self control and kiss her, but what she does instead makes his heart pound just the same:

She lifts herself onto her tiptoes and kisses the oval-shaped bruise painted across his cheekbone. 

His hand, with a mind of its own, comes up to cup the back of her neck and keep her as close as possible, which she doesn’t fight. Instead, she brushes her nose against his, and today just went from being the worst day ever to the best day ever, and-

The school bell rings. 

Julie pulls away. 

Hastily, she’s tucking her medical supplies back into her bag, and avoiding his eyes once again. 

“Try not to get in another fight, please,” she sends him an awkward smile as she zips her backpack, “I only brought the two bandages.” And before he can even blink, she’s gone.

[insufferablelust]

Hi, I hope you're having a great day! I was wondering if you could write something for Hotch where the reader is one of the younger members and he always wants to protect her. She messes up on a case and Strauss yells at her and she ends up crying and Hotch takes care of her. Thank you so much, and it is okay if you don't want to write it!

Hi! i’m so sorry it took me awhile to write your piece but i hope this is worth it! and i also changed it a bit so i hope you don’t mind, but if you have any specific ideas just let me know! anyways thank you so much for requesting and waiting! much love!

This is an Aaron Hotchner x SA!Reader Blurb.

Warnings : Fluffs, angst, Mean!Strauss, Hotch is like your caregiver in a professional way like he guides you through the cases and help you etc because you’re new and young, Mention of Guns, Blood, Supportive!BAU, Mental disorder, and Abductions.

this blurb also have a special meaning to me since i’m diagnosed with the same Disorder the unsub has in this so i’m sorry if the descriptions are a bit too detailed. i still hope you like it and give me feedbacks or constructive criticisms thank you for reading❤️

———————

Being the youngest in every field has its own disadvantages, when you were at school, being the youngest would get you picked at, but you shut them up quickly with your bravery. When you were in college, most people doubted you even your professors, but you also managed to make them stare in awe when you became the top student of your criminal psychology class. When you were training in the academy, many underestimate you, but again— you came out on top, trainee with the highest score amongst others. So you never thought about being the youngest much,

No, not until you actually work— by work i mean becoming a part of BAU, Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n. It was easy at first, you received such a warm welcome from your new teammates that you already thought that this is going to be easy enough. The first time you met them were at the bullpen, they were all lounging and talking about a recent case as you stepped in nervously yet you put a stern smile. The first person who approached you was the wonderful Miss Penelope Garcia, who happens to be your friend, and then you shook hands with David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, and got a flirty remark from none other than Derek Morgan— who you scoffed at and said “not going to work on me pal, Garcia has told me aaaall about it” which drew laughter.

Your assignments were quite easy at first, you were always the one to be confident, top of your class and all— so on your first day you got your first assignment with the team, a case in Virginia. You were told to follow Agent Hotchner, and you have to be honest that it couldn’t be any more easier for you. He showed you the ropes, how to analyze certain behaviors, even let you interview the family alone. He made you feel safe and comfortable to do this job, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Now that you’ve gotten to several cases, you’ve felt like you earned your place here, not just as the new girl, but a profiler, an agent, and you couldn’t be more prouder— and you can’t help but to thank Aaron for it, he always guides you through all the horrible things that you just feel content to work on cases with him. Your teammates joked about it sometimes, saying how close you two have gotten, they noticed how Hotch never raised his voice with you, not once, it’s either you’re that good or as Prentiss likes to call it “He has a soft spot for you (Y/n)”

But not all paths are smooth paths, it was sunday afternoon, you were lounging with Emily, Garcia, and Sergio when you heard the call coming from Garcia’s phone. Upon seeing “HOTCHER” as the called id, you and Prentiss sigh deeply before preparing your go bag not even bothering for Garcia to finish the phone call.

Turns out it was a child abduction case, and the first thing to note about this is that time is of the essence and every second counts. The first abduction started in Virginia a month ago, where it was handled by the local police— but then the same type of M.O and Victimology appeared in some abduction cases all over the country, the most recent one is Los Angeles. So off to LA you goes with the team, only thing different this time is that JJ and Hotch was staying behind to talk to the police in Virginia—it’s your first ever case without his guidance and you haven’t decided if you like it or hate it.

———————————

12 hours into the abduction, and Y/n has messed up bad, bad enough that it put her own life in jeopardy. Y/n had gone to follow a lead, that she received from the hotline tip, she debated at first.. on telling the others about the call she received, all her training would told her to tell someone, you can’t go alone but the caller insist that you go alone. Something about this man is not right, you can feel it in your guts. But you know that if you were about to tell the others- they wouldn’t let you pursue, not because you’re incapable but because its not right to go alone, but you took the risk to save these children— the caller did mentioned you only have 10 minutes to drive to his address and if you don’t show up alone, the children will be killed— and you can’t let that happen. So you told the tip responder that you have told your team and that you’re under pursue before sprinting out of the LAPD.

When the team realized that Y/n was gone, it was an hour after she actually left. The second they found out about her whereabouts, they rushed to the location— already hoping that you and the kids are still alive. To their relief, you were found alive, but you were tied to a chair, face bloodied and its clear that you took some harsh beating. The unsub was holding one of the child, threatening to kill him.

He was a man who has Abandonment issues with severe borderline personality disorder, the reason why he abducts children is because he hated his childhood— he hated himself for being a fuck up, so he took the perfect children according to his judgment and kept them— it’s masochistic, he kept them as a reminder for himself of how worthless he is.

“Put the gun down, and let the boy go” Morgan’s voice rang through the abandoned building, causing the unsub to panic and move backwards “No! stay there! c-come any closer and i’ll blow his perfect fucking face off” He snarled, before you gained all the energy you have left and speak up,

“Adam, let him go please. I know how you feel, and let me show you that you are none of those things your mind is telling you. You’re not worthless and you deserve to be loved, a- a mother’s love.. don’t you missed it? Come here, i- i can give it to you” You coughed up blood as your vision gets blurry, The team gasped as the unsub let the boy go.. all of them and kneeled next to you, gun still in hand as he untied you, then lay his head on your thighs. Your fingers shakily move, to ran through his hair, and inching to get the gun from here.

“Shh, shh Mama’s here, give me the toy.. I’ll let you play w-with it later” You said holding back the tears as he slowly handed you the loaded gun before you tossed it and the team cuffed him.

You cried hard as you fell to your knees on the floor, the last thing you heard was Prentiss’s voice calling for medic and then you black out.

——————-

Its been a few days after the incident, you’re on your way back to Quantico. Some of the bruisings are gone but there are some scars that will be there forever, and honestly you don’t worry about it all— the only thing you worry about is what your superior is going to do with you. You knew you messed up bad and it doesn’t matter that you are the reason that those kids are free, you should’ve told your team. When Emily asked you why, you said it’s just gut feeling em. And when Spencer asked you how’d you know?

you told him, that The unsub told you about his young mother, the same exact age as your age, your hair color, and around your height. Thats why he wanted you to come, and the pieces clicked, All of the hesitancy to kill, He liked the pain, not inflicting it to others if not necessary but to himself. That’s how you know. Your answer seemed to please the young doctor as he smiled and whispered a small “Great job, Agent.”

All of them were understanding on why you did it, except Morgan because he’s like your big brother but he did said something along the lines of “You’re a damn good profiler but you’re still stupid” but the worst had to come from your superior; Erin Strauss.

As soon as you landed in Quantico, Hotch was there waiting for you, then escort you to his room, where Strauss was there also. You were nervous not because you’re wrong but because you knew you could’ve done better and it’s against the regulations.

Hotch had said to you during a phone call that he “understands why you did what you did but it certainly doesnt justify it.” The way he spoke those words calmed you down up until now.. standing in front of Strauss herself.

“Agent Y/n, sit down.” You sat down in front of her with Hotch leaning against his desk, you put on a smile as you keep eye contact with her, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, Ma’am. Thank you for asking—i’ve completed the psych evals too and-“

“What you did was reckless and stupid, Agent. You put your own life in danger as well as your teammates. You let your own ambition to lead you into this mess—“

Taken aback at her words, you quickly replied, “Excuse me Ma’am, with all due respect i never have any intention other than saving the boys from the unsub. So i don’t understand how my ‘ambition’ led me.”

“Agent, you will not interrupt me. Must i remind you that you’re an intelligent, bright, and exceptionally young with a lot of great potentials but let me ask you this, Are you too immature that your ambition on becoming the one who caught the unsub is your top priority? The Director agreed that maybe you should take another year of training to successfully complete mature so you dont make mistakes like this.” and at that your eyes brimmed with tears, How could she? how could she compared your age to how you do your job? You were trying to save the kids and you did. Your age has no connection to any of this and certainly not to your abilities. You were about to say something when Hotch stand and put a finger up signaling you to hold it.

“Ma’am I know what Y/n did is incredibly reckless but she only did that because the unsub specifically asked for her— she reminded him of his young mother, their features are the same. Agent Y/n, does know the regulations and protocols, and she knows that if she tells anyone the risk of those boys dying is greater than any other. So with all due respect Ma’am, As her direct superior in this case, i’m asking you to back up and let me handle her penalty according to my professional judgment as someone who has seen her incredible work and sacrifices.” His voice is loud, ringing on your ears like you’re the only thing that mattered. It left you speechless as he give you the tissue box and then waiting for Erin’s reply.

To your surprise she didn’t say anything before leaving his office. You broke down once again, gasping for air as you feel the pain now, the ache on your shoulder and wrists, the dull pain on your face, the cuts and bruises on your stomach. You are exhausted, and It seemed that Hotch knows it too.

He sit besides you as he gently placed your head on his shoulder, so you can cry with a shoulder to support you. You were so exhausted, that you dont even care if this is breaking any rules or protocols. You just want to save people, you just want to be with your team.

“She won’t do anything, I promise you that ill protect and guides you, so hang onto my words.” He said, rubbing the back of your neck and shoulders as you let out tiny gasps, trying to form a sentence.

“T-thank- y-you, Aaron.” is the only thing you managed to speak before the exhaustion wipes you out, the last thing you heard was his voice, “Anytime Y/n, Sleep well.”

——————

Feel free to send me blurb ideas! give this a like and reblog, thank you!

[milauree]

Hi! I saw you were taking requests (at least I hope I got that right and I'd like to request some Black butler angst, if that's ok, although I completely understand if not. Do you think you could write headcanons for Ciel, Undertaker and Grell with an s/o who gets really violent towards themselves? Bruising themselves, banging head against walls etc. I've been having some nasty urges and I'd like some comfort. Thank you!

Hi ! Yes I'm taking requests ! I'm deeply sad that you feel like this, I'll sincerely do my best and hope it'll help you out. <3 If you need to talk, I'm here ! I hope I won't make any bad errors, english is not my first language. :(

TW - Self-harm

Ciel

-At first, he didn't really pay attention to it since you were hiding it. -But the moment he completly understood what was going on, he got mad. So mad. But not against you, against himself. -How did he not see it ? How did he not see how much in distress you were ? -That was it, screw his responsabilities. -He would never confront you about it though, he prefers that you talk about it yourself or when you feel confortable enough to engage the conversation. -But when you had this sudden urge and bruised yourself in front of him, he had a chill running up his spine. -He dropped his cane and ran up to you, slowly putting his hand on your back and the other one between your head and the wall, making you hit his hand. -You were surprised and never wanted him to see you like this, but the look in his eyes made yours watery. -His eyes were drowning in sorrow, you've never seen him like this before. Heck, nobody has ever seen him like this. -Ciel didn't speak, he just shushed you while drawing circles behind your back while slowly approaching your head to his torso. -It was silent but you understood and just let your tears drop like a cascade against him. Your fronthead was hurting but your heart and mind was hurting more. -You felt your legs giving up and Ciel just followed you on the floor, slowly dropping while petting oh so carefully on your head. -Ciel was not much of a speaker, but it felt as if his actions were translating so much of his emotions. -But tonight, it was sure, he was not going to let you alone. -He respected your silence and slowly but carefully guided you to his bedroom and put you down on his couch. -Wiping your tears, he pushed you against it while covering you with pillows, wanting for you to be cozy and relaxed. -He exited the bedroom and you were able to hear whispers. Soon enough, he came back with a tray of biscuits, tea, hot milk it was one hell of a feast. -"If you don't feel like eating right now, try to drink something up to clear your throat a little bit. Don't feel pressured, go at your pace, alright ?" -You just shyly nodded, letting the pillows hug you softly but it was not enough. -As if he was reading your mind, he cleared some space to put himself at your side and gently pulled you towards him in a soothing hug. -It was late at night, no sounds to be heard except his beating heart. The warmth of his body conforted you enough to close your eyes and hear your breath getting steady.

Undertaker

-You came to see him at his shop, wanting to just talk and get this feeling out of your head. -Unfortunately, he wasn't there. That left you alone with your thoughts and his shop and soon enough, dark things came up in your mind. -And as you handled one of his tool and aimed it at yourself, your hand was suddenly pulled off. -You didn't hear the tikling of the door but now, you could, and even though you couldn't see his eyes, something deep inside you told you that he was ashamed of you. -But it was short, as he began to manhandle you, turn you over and over again, looking for any scratches, knees on the floor. -"Oh no no no... Doll... Don't-" -He stopped himself at some scratches and he could feel his heart drop. He whined while he looked at you, this time you could feel his fear. -You tried to mumble some excuses but he began to pepper your wounds with kisses and traveled all the way up on your cheeks. -He cupped them and just looked at you. He kissed you again on your nose, your forehead, your temples, your eyelids. Nothing was left unkissed. -"Oh my doll... If you ever fear this, please come to me. Come whenever you feel like it, I will make it disappear." -His voice was soft, almost unspoken, as if he was scared to break you with his voice only. -You melted in his kisses and with his whispers and oh, did he let you. -With ease, he lifted you up bridal style and made you sit down while he caressed your fingers, hands, arms, thighs, legs, as if you were the prettiest thing on earth. -He was worshipping your body, in his eyes, your were a perfect creature. Your smile, your personnality, your kindness, your body, everything was just perfect and everyday he was falling deeper. -At last, he kissed the inside of your hands and kept them in his. -As strange Undertaker would be, his love and care for you was undenyable and if he needed to remind you this everyday, he would do it without problems. -The afternoon passed slowly and he refused to let you go, you were deeply in his arms and nobody would make him stop. Not even you. -And the moment you felt like talking your heart out or just crying, Undertaker would listen to you silently and rock you softly.

Grell

-She actually wanted to surprise you ! Scare you out by knocking on your window but what she saw froze her. -It was way past midnight, you thought you were alone with your mind and it was just terrible, you couldn't help yourself. -Completly scared, she didn't know what to do and just listened to her heart screaming to stop you. -She gave you one hell of a heartattack by breaking your window and throwing herself at you. -At first you were scared and almost screamed if it wasn't for the spiky red hair poking your chin. -"Wha-Wha-Wha- Honeybooboo are you okay ? Is everything good ? Did someone make you upset ?! You can talk to me ! Please talk to me !" -You tried to calm her down while making her lower a little bit her voice... -People would say that she's overreaction, but for Grell, how could she not be concerned ?! You were her own little sunshine ! Her flower ! If something would ever happened to you, she would never forgive herself, for sure. -"You want to talk about it sweetie ? Oh- I'm just so dumb ! Don't talk if you don't feel like it, okay ? I'll take care of you tonight and tomorrow and forever !" -She was always this energic but it looked like she deeply tried to stop herself from overreacting and actually help you feeling better. -Slowly, Grell put your hair back in place and caressed it. -"Come here... Don't move and let me take care of you." -Allowing herself to move just behind you, Grell spooned you from behind while playing with your hair. -She would whisper sweet nothings to you, how good you were, how kind you are, how pretty your sweet little face was, how much thinking about you would enlight his day. -"You are so strong... I admire how much you fight. And I don't want to hear no "But I did nothing-" because sometime life can be so hurtfull and difficult that just breathing is hard ! People don't think about it enough, that's why I'm telling 'ya my sweetheart. Never look down upon yourself, and if you ever do, I'll be there to tell you otherwise and love you so so so much !" -You felt her arms enroll your body and squeeze you so hard ! She just wanted to squeeze you and scrub her face against you ! -As time passed, it got quieter but you could still feel her breath against your nape. And slowly, you thrived yourself into sleep in her arms, you knew that she would never leave you alone. And it was everything.

Hope you liked it ! I tried to stay in character while really giving you some angst confort ! I again, apologize for my english, hope I didn't make some bad errors. :( I really hope that you like it ! Have a nice day, love yourself because I sure do <3

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

https://www[DOT]google[DOT]com/amp/s/vousnavezrienvu[DOT]tumblr[DOT]com/post/186113418717/repost-robert-sheehan-the-messenger-2015/amp

Third or fourth one down. Can one request a drabble about Jack x fem reader angsty whump with love and care about them helping each other out through hardships etc? Thank youuu!!!

Sheehanoween!

Your wish is my command! More about the event here. This gif is courtesy of the ever fabulous and effervescent @vousnavezrienvu

Distorted Verses

Jack (The Messenger) x Fem!Reader Warnings: angst, fluff...nothing bad I don’t think unless you don’t like hearing about death in which case, why would you read a messenger fic lol

You were in the process of wiping down the sticky bar, marveling at how disgusting people could be, when the pub door opened. Jack walked in, and when you looked at him your heart sank.

He had clearly had a rough day. His clothes were dirty and disheveled, his flannel shirt torn at one shoulder. He turned his head and his eyes settled on you, his shoulders slumping slightly when he saw you. Was he relieved?

When he headed in your direction you got a better look at his face. He had the beginnings of a black eye, and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth and on his bottom lip.

You sighed and looked at him sympathetically. “Jack,” you said softly as he leaned up against the bar you were cleaning. “What on earth has happened to you?”

“Some blokes don’t like being told their dead wife gambled away their life savings and that’s why their bank account is empty, but she’s really sorry.”

You clicked your tongue, pouring him a shot of whiskey. “It must be hard, but that’s no excuse for people to beat on you.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s all in a day’s work,” he said, and tipped back his shot.

You had been friends with Jack for about a year now, if you could call it friends. You were more like a caretaker and a counselor than a friend. If your boss was around, he would kick Jack out before he even had a chance to order a drink, but you felt sorry for him so you let him stay. Sometimes he raved as if someone were giving him a hard time, but he was always alone. Sometimes you saw him outside, pointing and yelling at people who were never there.

Eventually the two of you started taking. You initially humored him when he spoke about the ghosts who visited him over unfinished business. You did not actually believe him until he came to you with a message of your own.

“Ryan,” Jack said simply one day after sitting at the bar in front of you, which stopped you short.

“Ryan knows I’ve been talking to ya and he asked me to tell ya something,” he continued. You couldn’t speak, only stared at him in surprise. How did he know about Ryan?

Jack reached out and took your hand, turning it so the palm was facing up. Then he tipped a small object into your hand. You inhaled sharply when you saw what it was. It was a pendant, a small gold heart. It had fallen off its chain sometime during the funeral and you couldn’t find it. You had been devastated.

“He found it,” Jack said softly. “It was at the cemetery in the grass not far from his grave. He asked that I give it to you and let you know that he’s alright.”

Tears rolled down your face. Ryan had been your fiancée. He was killed in a car crash two years ago, and the pendant was a gift he gave you for your first anniversary.  You leaned forward and kissed Jack’s cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered, overcome with emotion. Jack smiled and looked down shyly. “I wish more people reacted like that.”

Now, the poor soul who stood before you looked completely beaten down. He did not deserve what he was dealt day after day. Your heart ached for him and you wished there was something you could do to make things better for him.

“My shift ends in an hour,” you said. “Come to my place and I’ll help you get cleaned up and fix you a nice dinner.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Jack said, and you could see him retreating, readying himself to throw up a wall of protection.

“Come on,” you said. “You helped me once, now let me help you out. It’s no big deal.”

“Okay fine,” he said quietly.

****

Jack met you back at the bar right as your shift was ending, and you walked with him the couple of blocks to your flat.

“Okay,” you said distractedly as you entered the apartment. “Ok let’s see what we’ve got here.”

Jack had been pretty quiet, and looked around, taking in his surroundings.

“Right,” you said firmly, as an idea materialized in your mind. “Have a seat anywhere; make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Jack sat himself on your sofa and waited as you rummaged in your closet. You carried a pile of clothes back to the sitting room. “Ryan was about your size, I think,” you said, passing the clothes over. Jack looked a bit overwhelmed. There were probably several outfits’ worth of clothes there. “Please take them,” you said, as he blinked up at you.

“I’m not a homeless,” he said, but he was smiling a little.

“I know that,” you scoffed. “But your clothes keep getting ruined. I’ve been meaning to do something with Ryan’s things for a while but haven’t been able to bring myself to do it, so you’re actually helping me.”

Jack nodded. “Alright, thank you.”

“I’ve started a bubble bath for you. Head on in and have a nice soak while I make dinner.”

Jack looked surprised. “You want me to take….a bubble bath?”

“Well when’s the last time you had one?” you demanded, hands on your hips.

Jack just shook his head.

“Listen, Jack…” you started. “Every day I see you beaten down and devastated and it hurts my heart. Let me pamper you for just one night, please?”

Jack smiled and nodded. He selected some clean clothes from the batch you had given him and stood. “Alright, alright, I’ll take the bubble bath,” he said, chuckling. You pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and headed into the kitchen to make dinner.

After Jack’s bath and a nice chicken parmesan dinner, you sat on the floor of the living room with a glass of wine. You had started the gas fireplace to chase away the evening chill, and you were cross-legged in front of it with a flannel blanket around your shoulders.

Jack entered from the kitchen with a beer and laughed when he saw you. “Chilly, are ya?” he asked.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you said, smiling. “I’m always cold. And anyway, what’s wrong with being snuggly?”

Jack only shook his head and came to sit on the floor beside you. Freshly scrubbed and in clean clothes, he was like an entirely different person. You hoped that you eased his burden somewhat tonight, even if it was just for a short while. You thought maybe your efforts had paid off; Jack seemed more at peace than you had ever seen him. You also had never been quite this close to him before. Perhaps it was the dirt, blood and bruises usually painting his face, but you had never actually noticed how incredibly attractive he was.  His eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and as the light from the fire lit them, they shimmered. His eyes were lined by thick dark eyelashes that were perfect almost to the point that you were jealous; you couldn’t get a liquid line that looked so good. Your eyes began to wander down to his lips, and that’s when you noticed they were moving.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Jack chuckled. “Where did you go just now? I was just saying thank you. This has been great, and I really have been missing out on bubble baths.”

You grinned. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Feel free to come and soak in my tub anytime.”

“I may take you up on that,” he said softly, as his eyes roamed your face.

Before you realized what you were doing, you leaned forward to press your lips to his. He lifted a hand to caress your cheek, and then you pulled away, keeping things chaste. You scooted over to close the small distance between you, and wrapped the flannel blanket over his shoulders, leaning up against him.

“The world doesn’t seem so cold when you have someone to share your warmth with, does it?” you asked, musing half to Jack, half to yourself.

“No. No, it really doesn’t,” he said, and you thought you heard a smile in his voice.

“I think it’s time we both let a little more warmth in,” you said, turning so you could look into his eyes.

He smiled before bending his head to kiss you, a little harder this time. You sighed into the kiss as his hands roamed your back, and you opened your mouth to him, teasing your tongues together before breaking away again. If you went much farther, there would be no turning back, and you weren’t sure you were ready.

“You’re not alone anymore Jack,” you said, and you felt his body relax with a shuddering sigh.

Neither were you.

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Day 2 Potion

Title: Potions

Ship: Geralt x Yennefer

Prompt Day 2

Warnings: Reaction to potions/poisoning. Pain, urge to vomit, etc.

Summary: “a pain so dreadful that only the greatest effort stopped him from screaming. His heart began to beat frantically and, compared to his usual pulse -four times slower than that of a normal person- it was an extremely unpleasant sensation. Everything went black, the world spun around, blurred, and dissolved.” – “drinking the elixir had never caused the effects it had that night. For an hour after drinking it he had fought cramps and extremely powerful vomiting reflexes, aware he couldn’t let himself be sick… he fell wearily into a deep sleep.” -Andrzej Sapkowski, Season of Storms

Word Count: 1506

Read on Ao3

He threw up. Violently. The acid seared his nose, making him choke. The smell burned alone was enough to make his eyes tear, and he retched helplessly trying to clear his nasal passages. When he could breathe, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Geralt could smell piss and wasn’t sure if he hoped it was his or not. Considering the alternatives.

He had survived worse before, he knew he had. When he had lost his swords. His throat felt raw and he heaved again, knowing how pointless it was to do so. Nothing was going to make the poison come up. It had been injected through a vein in his arm, it never touched his stomach. The Golden Oriole he’d taken to counteract it, had, and was now going to do him absolutely no good.

His body shook so hard he thought he might crack his teeth, and nothing he did seemed to ease the pain or his body’s need to empty his stomach. Snot clogged his nose and he choked and spat before his body convulsed again. Practically blind with pain, Geralt crawled across broken glass to the window and looked out. The drop wouldn’t kill him. Staying in this room to be found in this condition surely would. So he did what any sane person would do, and heaved himself out a window.

Something cracked inside of him, and he laid there for a few moments, blackness circling around him as stars and sparks shot through it, keeping it at bay. He whistled once, pursing his lips, then retched again, helpless. He didn’t have more potion in his belt, there was nothing that would help him. Curling into a ball he did his best to stay conscious until the sound of hooves roused him. Terror swamped him until he felt the muzzle of his horse gently lipping at his hair and clothes, whickering softly. Roach. He was saved. It took quite a bit of patience on Roach’s part as she kneeled down and did her best to encourage him to crawl onto her back. His hands were bloodied from the glass, and they hurt abominably, so much so he wondered if he had crippled himself in his desperate attempt to escape the lord’s torture room.

If he was being honest, he had no idea how he got there. He remembered a contract, a portal, and then pain. So much pain. New poisons to try. Nothing had killed him, but then finally something had happened. His memory won’t fill in the details and it’s all he can do to hold onto Roach and not fall off while she canters off before breaking into a gallop. The bouncing hurts and makes his muscles scream in pain and he knew he was hitting her saddle wrong and couldn’t imagine the pain in her back and that was the last thought he had before the darkness claimed him.

Water dripped into a bucket as a cloth is wrung out, and he turned to the sound. When he felt goosebumps break out across his skin, he realized he was naked. Concerned at this change, he wondered briefly what might be tested on him next. Tensing, he prepared to open his eyes and attack.

Cool hands touched is forehead, and he relaxed. He would know those hands anywhere. “Yennefer,” he slurred, then frowned. What was wrong with him?

“I’m here. Try not to move. Or speak. Not yet.”

He knew that arguing with Yennefer was often pointless, but also that she could read minds. Hopeful she might be listening in, he wanted her to tell him what was going on.

“I suppose you won’t settle until you know. Of course not, then you wouldn’t be you.”

Gentle hands ran over his chest and stomach and he flinched in pain.

“I don’t know everything that happened. You’re lucky we have mutual friends. One of them notified me you had been hurt. Gone on a contract and disappeared. I set about looking for you, more out of curiosity than concern. A mutated beast won’t kill you, you’re too good at your job. Then I heard of some lord who wanted his sorcerer to develop the world’s best poison and I started to worry.

“I wasn’t expecting Roach to bring you to me. I’m not sure she meant to, either. I hadn’t planned to be in that town as long as I was. I got delayed.”

The soft splashing of water resumed and he realized she was wringing out a cloth. Then he felt it against his forehead and temples and near whimpered in relief. His head ached. All of him ached. The cool fabric was a blessing and when his jaw relaxed, he hadn’t even realized he’d clenched it before.

“You were unconscious, looked like you’d taken some of the potions you take before a contract. I’m not sure what was done to you. I thought about taking some of your blood to find out, but the idea of hurting you worse upset me deeply. You cut through some tendons in your fingers. Or someone else did, I don’t know. I’ve repaired them, but you mustn’t use your hands just yet.”

The cloth was moved down his neck, back up behind his ears, then along his collarbones and chest before it was returned to the bucket and wrung out again. She ran it over his arms and under them, and he was glad for a moment he wasn’t ticklish. The water dripping might have made him twitch and injure himself further.

“You broke two bones in your leg, snapped your wrist, and then somehow also cracked your skull.” The irritation and fear in her voice blended together and all he heard was anger. “You could have died. I saw enough in your dreams that I know you threw yourself out the window. And the worst part is you thought the jump wasn’t so far. It was near three stories. Even with your witcher’s mutations you’re lucky to have lived. It’s a good thing you hit legs first, then fell on your arms. A small miracle you broke as few bones as you did. Lucky Roach was able to get you onto her back at all. I know you didn’t do it. Clever girl probably did most of the work on her own.”

That tracked with what he remembered. She had lipped at his shirt, bit him, he thinks, and shoved him as best she could with her head after she’d knelt down. He had dragged himself into the saddle and slipped off twice when she tried to stand before he finally stayed in. His backside and groin ache and he knows he rode poorly. Hopefully Roach was less sore.

“She’s fine. I looked her over, she’s eating the finest mix of grains and grasses and she’s enjoying quite the beautiful stable. Dry, mucked out twice a day, all of that. Just like you deserve the pounding your balls took, doing something that stupid.” More water dripping, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You know full well I’d miss them just as much as you would.”

The cloth swept across his belly and he hissed in pain, the cloth froze.

“I don’t see bruising, Geralt. Is it truly the skin that hurts?” Gentle fingers probe his abdomen, palpating gently. Tears worked their way past his eyelids to run over his temples. “I’ll come back to this,” her voice was softer, kinder.

Her touch moved across his body and down his legs, and he found himself trembling. The splash of the cloth hitting water startled him, and he bit back a whimper when the sharp movement made him jostle half healed bones. Jars were corked and uncorked, and the sharp scent of various herbs stung his nose. Geralt could barely feel flakes of them touch his skin, but he knew from the sound alone Yennefer was lightly crumbling some over his stomach.

“I’ll get you some water to drink in a moment. Ease your throat. Is there a reason you haven’t opened your eyes?”

He considered this and found he couldn’t. At least not yet. They fluttered when he tried but they were too heavy for him to lift. His whole body was heavy and painful. It only moved of its own will when the pain increased and it tried to dance away. The words she spoke in Elder danced past him and he couldn’t grasp them. Fire flashed across his belly and he would have screamed but it was over before he could. His gut cramped again briefly and he was fairly sure if his bladder hadn’t been empty he would have pissed himself.

“I’m sorry Geralt, I honestly had no idea it would hurt that badly.” Cool hands ran over his abdomen and to both their relief it didn’t hurt him this time. “Rest, darling, just rest. I’ll take care of you.”

He believed her. Any time he’d been badly hurt, she had helped him. If she had known about it. He slept.

@geraltwhumpweek

[disappearinginq]

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? 13. First fandom you ever wrote for? 16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)? 34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

3. At the risk of sounding vain...I tend not to write completely self indulgent fics, like, something that would take the character completely out of their established canon-behavior. Do I want my favorite characters to be the center of a hurt/comfort recovery fic? Yes. Yes, I do. But I also really don’t like the tendency for the genre to get into “woobie-fying” (or however it’s spelled) the main characters.  In Lucifer, I still wrote Lucifer as a narcissist with daddy issues. When I wrote for the 100, I tried to pull as much as I could from canon to justify the direction the story took. When I write in Magnum, I really try to take into account the back story they’ve given the characters - that they were Taliban POW’s, they’re elite military members, etc. So while I like that fandom is freedom of expression, and AU’s and fix-its and all the other genres exist and people can use them, my most cherished feedback is from readers who say “I can see this happening” or “this makes so much more sense, I never considered this”. 

13. Uuuuuhhhhhmmmm, I think the Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, though if we want to get technical, when I was like...10 or 9, I had probably close to a thousand pages typed of what would be considered an OC spin on Sliders in an epic multi-fandom crossover fic, which included Sliders, Star Trek, Star Wars, Magnificent Seven, and Hudson Hawk amongst other things. I really wish I knew what happened to it, because I guarantee it’s terrible by my own standards today, but 10 year old me was living. 

16. The Bourne Identity Trope - amnesiac who turns out to be a lethal assassin; government experiment escaped, a la Pretender style; secretly most powerful character but they either 1) can’t control it, or 2) choose not to use it for another reason; co-dependent besties (see: “There ain’t no me, if there ain’t no you”); and I have no idea what you would call it, but when the protagonist has fought with everything they have and they face the ‘final problem’ and they just sort of...sink? Jensen Ackles did it really well.; and final one “rage solves everything” - see the entire final fight sequence of Serenity. 

34. From “Damnatio Memoriae” of the Lucifer fandom: 

“The moment you laid eyes on these wings, when you first realized that they were real and all that that knowledge entailed, you wanted some of it for yourself, didn’t you?” he whispered, soothing. “You knew there were such things in creation deserving of worship, and you wanted to be one of them.”

The woman shook, but she finally raised her head, finally meeting his gaze.

Strength of madness in the face of Death.

He almost liked her.

“Your crusade was a foolish one,” Samael said, voice just loud enough for her to hear and no one else in the congregation. “It was an act of vanity and personal pride. And worse, you thought you could lie to me about it. Perhaps you repeated it so often you actually believed it but I can see, Delilah. I know what’s in your heart. I know how you feel when you command and others obey. I know the way your heart beats at the sight of blood. How powerful you feel watching someone else’s life fade away because of you. You thought yourself a god.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and cupping his hands to either side of her face.

“Allow me to show you what happens to false gods,” he whispered. He touched his lips to her forehead, his fingers sliding along her neck.

In one quick movement, he pressed his fingers down and snapped her axis vertebrae, severing her spinal cord.

Her entire body went limp, but he didn’t allow her to fall. He kept his bruising grip around her neck, holding her up like a ragdoll.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said pleasantly. “Though perhaps I should – it would be a mercy, gratitude for all that you’ve done. But you, Delilah Rogers…are deserving of no such consideration. You can live, bound as I was, reminded of the power you once had and are now deprived of. Your lying tongue cannot poison anyone else’s mind.”

He released her, and she dropped in a boneless heap to the floor, unable to do anything more than blink and breathe.

“I’m going to give you one last gift, Delilah,” Samael said, turning his back on her and facing the congregation that stood with bated breath in the shadows.

“I’m going to give you the perspective of God,” he said as he paused at the front of the church, moonlight casting onto his beautiful wings and making them shine. “By letting you watch as I make your beloved flock destroy themselves.”

And with that, Samael allowed all of his hate, all of his anger and rage and desire to flood the congregation. The roiling black sickness seeped in through their skin, into their bones and into their hearts as their eyes flashed black as night.

“Tell me humans,” he shouted above the crowd. “What is it you most desire?”

And the sea of people turned on one another like the animals he knew they were. Nails tore through skin, teeth clamped down on muscle and sinew and bones snapped like brittle twigs as the humans literally consumed one another.

Samael smiled to himself, inhaling deeply and savoring the taste of blood in the air. He supposed he should be grateful that so few mentions of him remained. Eliciting desire was such a bland term for what he did.

He controlled hunger. The darkest part of the human soul was his domain and he knew what to pull and what to push and how to make them bend and snap and tear themselves apart. Death was a mercy he bestowed upon the masses. His ability to take a life was not what earned him a place in the Pit.

It was the ability to make them destroy themselves in their pursuit of desire. He hardly needed to lift a finger – all he had to do was whisper in their ears, and they ripped each other apart.

Desire was a fluid thing. People often confused it with lust. But it was so much more than that. Power. Love. Hate. Hurt. It was the human spirit unconstrained.

It was what he loved about them. They were so eager to destroy each other, they happily destroyed themselves.

He stepped off the crossing, uncaring of the blood that pooled beneath his feet, ignoring the bodies as the fell to the floor.

No one touched him.

No one even noticed him.

With a spin on his heel, he pushed open the doors of the church, stepping out into the cool California desert night.

The skies were clear. Stars twinkled in the velvet darkness, barely visible with the full moon out in all its glory. The entirety of his Father’s beloved creation lay before him, bathed in silvery moonlight bright as the sun. He could hear the beat of its corrupted, festering heart beneath his feet, hear the whispers of dark desire on the air.

“So much work to do,” he muttered to himself, smiling happily. He stretched his arms, his wings expanding behind him as he unfurled them in their entirety for the first time in what felt like centuries.

He spared a glance skyward. “Dearest Father, have you no words for your beloved Fallen Star? Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

The heavens reverberated in silence. Not a sound from the Silver City.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “You and I always did have an understanding.”

And with a flap of his magnificent wings, he vanished into the night.

[mrae71]

School’s Out

One thing people didn’t know about my father was that he was an awesome story teller.  According to his tales, he lived quite a life.  I’m not sure how much he told was fact or fiction; I call it fiction presented as fact.  I am currently compiling his stories into a book, and here’s one of them:

School’s Out

                Rudy stared eagerly at the clock, watching the seconds, then minutes tick by as the school year came to a close.  The classroom was like a furnace, not only holding in heat, but seeming to also take it in through the open windows.  He waited eagerly as his teacher, Mrs. Winlock, passed out the year-end reports one by one.

              After handing them all out, she sat down at her desk and said those final, long awaited words to her class of fifth, sixth and seventh graders, “thank you class, see you next year!”  With that the children let out a collective whoop as they quickly gathered their things and left the drudgery of books and assignments behind them.  Except Rudy. He sat quietly perplexed; he hadn’t received a home report.

              “Reuben,” Mrs. Winlock said softly, “stay behind please, I’d like to speak with you.”

              Rudy remained in his seat and nodded.  He liked Mrs. Winlock, she was kind and patient. She came from one of the town’s most prominent and wealthy families, living in a huge Victorian home on acres of land.  She even had servants.  He had heard adults saying that her family used to own slaves, but he never dared ask about it.  First, he was eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a conversation between his aunt and his grandmother, a conversation that he was sternly ordered to see himself away from.  And secondly, even at 11, he knew it would be rude to bring up such a delicate matter.

              Mrs. Winlock waited for the room to empty and then approached the child, envelope in hand.  She sat on the desk beside him and began gently, “first, Reuben,” she always addressed him by his proper name, “I wanted to know, would you like to work for me again this summer?”

              Rudy smiled widely, nodding his head.  He had worked for her all last summer, and enjoyed it ever much, tending the gardens, cutting grass, piling wood, mending fences, tending animals, and generally doing anything that needed doing.  He only worked through the week, leaving his weekends free to fish or play ball and she always invited him inside for a tasty lunch.  “Yes, ma’am, I’d like that.”

              The teacher smiled warmly, “good,” she patted his arm, “I can do $5 a week, plus, just like last year, you’re free to take home some of the produce, fruit, etc. that we won’t require, does that suit you?”

              He nodded eagerly, $5 was a full 50 cents over and above his weekly wage the year before, and the work wasn’t all that hard.

              Mrs. Winlock shoved the few greyish-brown strands of hair that hung from her neat bun behind her ear and took a deep breath before handing Rudy his home report.  She wished more than anything that she could rip it up, call it a huge mistake and welcome the boy as a sixth-grade student the coming fall.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  He simply hadn’t achieved the necessary outcomes to warrant promotion.

              It wasn’t for lack of trying.  Not on her part, and not on his.  Sure, Rudy was like most boys, more interested in what was going on outside than what was happening at the front of the classroom, but he was always quiet, attentive enough and eager to please.  The truth was, Mrs. Winlock, even with over 30 years as a teacher, had no idea what the disconnect was.  Rudy wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot.  He wasn’t one of the many children she’d seen in her career that were just simply slower than most to comprehend.  In fact, she found the young lad very quick to pick things up, especially if he were shown it.

              She remembered the time her husband, a fairly feeble man for 54 after having had a fairly severe stroke which left him with limited mobility on his right side, went outside and showed Rudy just how to prune the tomato plants, cutting the shooters to allow the blossoming vines more room to grow.  He only needed one quick lesson, which was more than the teacher could say for herself. In fact, her husband, Ned, forbade her from ever touching the tomato plants after more than once having hacked them half to death.

              She couldn’t put her finger on it, if she could have, she’d have fixed it, but somehow, whatever she was doing in the classroom wasn’t getting through to the bright-eyed child.  It was as if whatever his mind responded to had nothing to do with classroom teaching and while he was able to slide by with marginally acceptable results until now, as the work became more complex, she saw him fall further and further behind.

              She had thought about doing the charitable thing and pushing him through, reasoning that perhaps the confidence boost would propel the boy to work harder but decided against it.  She knew of other teachers who had done so and if she were honest, she had done it a time or two herself, but the circumstances were different. She normally reserved such mercy for those students who had a track record of turning in good performances and then suddenly, usually due to some issue at home, sometimes something as simple as plain old hunger, had fallen behind.  The fact was Rudy was falling further and further behind with every grade and to advance him to the next grade would serve no one, not the class, not herself and not Rudy.  “Please take this home directly,” she said firmly, handing him the envelope, “do not open it, I want your mother to read it first, do you understand?”

              Rudy nodded.  He knew what it said anyway.  The entire year had been a long series of F’s and “please try agains”.  It didn’t take any sort of eminent scholar to see the writing on the schoolhouse wall.  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Winlock, I will.”

              The teacher chocked back her tears and turned her head momentarily to compose herself.  She didn’t want Rudy to see her upset.  She didn’t want to upset him.  She cared a great deal for the lad.  In fact, she could readily admit to herself, and to her husband, that he was the favourite of all her students, ever. She imagined had she been able to bear a child, he’d have been much like Rudy, strikingly handsome, tall and wiry, strong as a small ox.  He was hard working and wanted only to please those around him.  He had a surprisingly soft heart that most people didn’t take the time to see.  He seemed to take very well to and to protect the younger children just coming into school and she had caught him more than once cradling or singing to a calf or a lamb in her barn.

She’d spent five years watching him grow and blossom, fight and struggle and she knew about his homelife.  Woodstock wasn’t a big town and talk got around.  She knew the black eyes and bruises he often sported came from the hand of his father after downing more than his share of whiskey.

              She didn’t know Reuben Senior as a younger man but had heard the stories.  He was once just like his son, sweet, tender hearted but with a steel exterior.  He had somehow managed to lie his way into military service in 1916, stating his age as 18 rather than 16 in order to do his part for the country and as the story goes, he came back from the First World War alive, but forever changed.  But that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back she knew.  He came back more aggressive for sure and made a name for himself as quite a good boxer.  But years later, when young Rudy was just a baby, he and Thea lost a child, baby Grace. Mrs. Winlock was given to understand that the 10-month-old was a perfectly healthy infant until suddenly falling ill and passing away some five or six days later.  It seemed Reuben senior never recovered from the loss and his aggression quickly turned to red hot anger and the occasional drink with the guys turned into binge drinking to the point of blackout.

              Rudy, she knew got the brunt of his father’s aggression and she worried for the child, wondering what this home report would bring.  Sober, he seemed a decent enough sort, she’d spoken to him several times and he was quick witted, but quiet, almost charming.  However, fueled by drink, he often sought his oldest son out and took out his frustrations on him.  It was as though the child, who was in fact, visually, the very picture of his father thirty years prior, represented all the unfulfilled hopes, plans, and dreams he had that never worked out.  What better way to address what you see as your shortcomings than to beat up on your younger self?  Well, except for the fact, he was beating on his son.  She shook her head, trying to make the awful thought disappear, “Reuben, please, promise me, you’ll take this directly to your mother, she begged, sounding a little more desperate than she had intended.

              Rudy agreed and was dismissed.  He walked outside into the late-June heat and found the school yard empty.  He walked toward home, just far enough to get out of sight.  He darted behind a group of trees and opened the envelope. He scanned it furiously, not wanting to be caught.  He skipped over the individual subject reports to get to the bottom line, “I regret to inform that Reuben has not met the necessary requirements to be promoted and will be required to repeat fifth grade.”  His heart sank and he sat down behind the tree and cried, his head in his knees.  He knew it was coming, but he hoped, naively, as children do, that maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay, but there it was in print.  He mourned the defeat, dried his tears and after a few moments, stood up and walked home, knowing exactly what he would do.

              When he arrived home, he saw his mother surrounded by many of his siblings, all basking in her praise.  Of course, Althea was front and centre, basking in her triumph. Having jut turned 13 the month before, she was quickly taking on the bearing of a young woman.  She was slender, curvy and had a pretty face which boys were starting to notice.  However, she had very little time for local boys or their nonsense.  She had plans, plans to become a teacher and later a wife and mother.  She was to spend her summer minding Dr. and Mrs. Baldwin’s eight children and taking in sewing in her free time. She was to be paid $3 a week, but she kept some for herself.  He didn’t understand all the ins and outs of it, but his mother explained that young women needed pocket money for important things, things only women understood.  He imagined it had something to do with dresses or maybe lipstick. She, of course, received glowing marks, and finished top of the seventh-grade class.

              Enid stood right behind her sister, jumping up and down, eagerly awaiting her turn at praise. She was a tiny wisp of a girl, but her personality loomed larger than life.  She did reasonably well this year. Her home reports going forward always read the same, “Enid is capable of exceptional work when she puts her mind to it,” and this year was no exception.  She was a bright girl, there was no doubt, but she had a streak in her, a fierce independence that often bordered on defiance and troubled their mother. The girl was intent on doing things her way.  She wasn’t unruly or disobedient, but had something not often seen in little girls of the time, a sense that she wasn’t supposed to conform to the world, but that in fact it was the other way about, the world should conform to her.  Their grandmother politely called her a “spirited child.”

              Then there was Bobby, he managed to get through second grade unscathed although his teacher opined that “further effort will be required to be successful in coming years.”

              And finally, David, the impish first-grader, complete with a toothless grin.  Sharp as a tack, but inattentive and mischievous.  He was the first to peer out the window at anyone or anything that happened by.  He was also the first first-grader to put a dead frog on Mrs. Mullins’ chair back in October.  He denied it vehemently, but his guilty giggles gave him away.  His older brother Bobby saved him from his father’s beating, claiming responsibility for the prank, something he often did.  In any event, despite his lack of attention and his tendency toward pranks, he got through with better than average grades.

              Rudy lowered his head and when the crowd dispersed, having received an adequate amount of praise, approached his mother, cleared his throat and handed her his home report, “Mrs. Winlock says for you to read this,” his face reddened with shame.  The idea of disappointing his mother killed him.  He knew she worked so hard, especially now, with so many children. There was him, Althea, Enid, Bobby, David, Jimmy, Johnny, and now, baby Francine, just six months old.  She was a pretty baby and from what he could see, fairly well behaved.  She didn’t fuss a lot.  That made eight kids, and he had heard whispers that another may be on the way, but that hadn’t been confirmed.  He kind of hoped not, the house was a tight squeeze as it was, the boys, Bobby, David, Jimmy, and himself, shared one room while the babies, Johnny and Francine shared another.  Althea, who had previously enjoyed the enviable position of having her own room had recently been forced to suffer the indignity of sharing with Enid.  Rudy was sure she hated that, but in true Althea fashion, she accepted the assignment as her duty to the family and said nothing about it.

              Thea turned to her children, still milling about in the living room as Rudy stood beside her, “you all get on outside,” she ordered, “I want to have a talk with Rudy.”

              “But Mama,” Enid whined, “it’s hot.”

              Thea stared hard at the children, her plump brown face set in that way that let them know she meant business, “then go swimming, but scoot, I’ll not tell you a second time.”

              The kids scrambled out the door as their mother told them and Thea turned to her eldest son, “let’s see this, then.”  She knew what was inside.  She gingerly opened the envelope and read it as tear began to stream down her son’s face again.

              Rudy buried his face in her ample bosom, sobbing, “I’m sorry Mama, I’m sorry!”

              She cradled the child gently then took his face in her hands, wiping his tears, “it’s okay, Rudy, I knew it was coming, you’ll just try harder next year.”  She didn’t know why, but she had known for some time that her eldest son struggled with schoolwork.

              Rudy snuffed the snot back from his nose and stood straight, “I’m not going back, ma’am,” he declared, “I’m going to work.”

              Thea looked at the child in disbelief, “you’re 11, what do you think you’ll work at?”

              “I’ll be 12 come January,” he explained, “I’ll do just like Daddy, I’ll join the army, fight in the war, just like him!”

              Fear welled up in his mother.  Thea knew well what war did to her husband and she also knew her son was just impulsive enough to try such a thing, although she also knew he had no chance, even at 12, looking young for his age, of being accepted into any army, it was time for a strong message.  She softly slapped his face with the back of her hand, “you will do no such thing!” she exclaimed, “and I’ll hear no more talk of any army, do you understand?”

              Rudy began to cry again, the slap didn’t hurt physically, she barely touched him.  But his pride hurt desperately.  He nodded in submission, “yes, Mama, I understand.”  Then he added, “but I could continue for a while at Mrs. Winlock’s till after apple season, that’ll take me into October, then I can go work in the woods.” He had it all figured out in his mind and in his young mind, it seemed to be the only reasonable choice.

              Thea softened, “Go on outside and play,” she told him, “I know you’re disappointed, we’ll talk about this nearer the school year, okay?”  She had no intention of allowing him to quit school.

              Rudy agreed, quietly set in his intention never to return to the classroom.

              The summer went quickly and soon it was time to get ready to return to school.  Thea and Reuben took their eldest son aside to see how he was feeling about repeating fifth grade.

              Rudy stood straight and tall, as tall as an 11-year-old could and informed his parents of his intentions, “I’m not going.”

              Thea, now confirmed to be expecting, yet again, shook her head, “Reuben, don’t start,” she warned.

              The child continued, steel-faced in his opposition, “no, Mama, I’m not going back,” he explained, “Mrs. Winlock says I can stay on ‘till at least October, then I got some work with old man Hawthorne lined up, and I also got a bit over at the general store, only a few hours here and there, but it’ll do us.”

              Thea’s heart sank, “Rudy, you’re a boy, you need your schooling.”  She was devastated, it was hard enough in 1941 to be a black man, but to be a black man with next to no education, the thought terrified her.  She always wanted better for her kids.  She wanted them to achieve, to have the opportunities she and their father never had, to be seen as they were, equal members of the human race.

              Reuben Senior spoke up, “woman,” he said, “we both know the boy ain’t much for the books,” he took a big gulp from his mug, “if he don’t wanna go, maybe we shouldn’t make him.”  Another gulp and he turned to his son and poked him hard in the chest, “but if you ain’t in no kinda school,” he warned, “you’re payin’ room and board!”

              The boy agreed, “of course Daddy,” he said breathlessly, “Mama can have all the money, just like always.”  He always turned over his entire weekly earnings to his mother for household expenses, often refusing her pleas that he take something, even a quarter for himself.  He added, expanding in his long-term plan, “anyway, it’s only ‘till I can get into the army and go into the war like you did, Daddy.”

              His father panicked in his whiskey fueled haze as memories of World War 1 trenches came flooding back faster than he could process them.  The gun fire, the filth, the rain and mud, the slop they passed off as food, and to top it off, the way black solders like him were treated like simple cannon fodder, pushed out to the front lines, never recognized for anything more than boots on the ground, it was all more than he could bear.  He didn’t want his son going through that.  Rage filled him, rage at every white superior that called him boy. Rage at every German that shot in his direction.  Rage at the impetuous, unwitting brat in front of him who had no real idea about the harsh realities of the world.  Before he knew it, his hand was up and he smacked the boy, hard, across the face, knocking him across the room and onto his ass, screaming, “shut up, boy, shut up!”

              Thea jumped between them, begging her husband to stop.

              Enraged and seeing nothing but the life his son would have if he chose the military, he shoved his wife out of the way, sending her into the stove.

              Young Rudy rose to his feet staring his father in the face for the first time in his life, cocked back his fist and punched his father in the jaw with all his might.  It was enough to send the man, now in his early forties and suffering more and more from his war wounds, not to mention the whiskey, stumbling.  “Never hit Mama again,” Rudy screamed, “never, or I will knock you out!”

              Thea took a seat, trying not to cry in front of her son.  Reuben Senior composed himself and looked at his son with a hard, critical eye.  He both loved and hated the child now.  He loved his resolve and strength.  He hated his resolve and strength.  He mostly hated that the boy had shown him up.

              Rudy knew nothing would ever be the same. He knew he couldn’t strike his father and expect to live in his home.  He looked at him and said in an apologetic tone, “Daddy, if I can collect my things, I think it’s best I go to Grannie’s.”

              Thea protested, but her husband overruled her, agreeing with his son.  The house was crowded as it was, and it gave him a quick opportunity to save at least a little dignity.  He agreed with the boy and said sharply, “you got 10 minutes and then I’ll kick you out by the ass!”

[eremika-forever12]

|| Eremika Fanfic: Remember Me!? ||

This is basically continuation from Manga plot with some changes ....you will get to know as story progresses! Do read, share & comment!

Chapter : 1

Just like any day....the sun rose from East making the whole city glow from its heat!

Just like every day everyone is back to their own chores !

Since that day of the new history of Shinganshina or to be more accurate the new Paradis....where there is no more walls, no more eldians & marliyans hatred....it was more like a new Era....Everything has just changed!

People know more about the truth with No Memory Loss....No Misconception Of Titans & Their Existence....Cause Titans Are Just A History Now Which Kids In Their Schools Learn About Their Past Existance!

6 Years....

6 Years Since He Disappeared....Vanished Just Into The Thin Air Just Like That! Leaving her alone once again in this Cruel World! He is known as humanity's Biggest Enemy Now....Who was once recognised as Humanity's Only Hope! But Something Tells Her....His Decision Changed The Whole Prespective! He Actually Changed This World....United Them To Fight Against Him! Sacrificed Himself....For The Cause Of His Own People! No Matter In Which Way But He Succeeded...Even If It Is By Being Cold Hearted Mass Murderer....She knows he was The Saviour, He Was No Monster!

But.....The Sad Part Is He Just Disappeared Like That 6 Years Back After That Rumbling Ended!

No One Noticed Him Since Then Nor His Giantic Titanic Body!

Did he deceive her all again? After making her that promise of returning back alive....wrapping around her that piece of cloth...before going for that final battle against everyone....Did he just die like that after doing so much....not even once meeting her again! Is he actually dead? Where is he? Where is Eren Yeager?

Just like any day....Mikasa starts her day thinking about him....just when her thoughts broke off hearing the powerful scream of her son....shrieking the hell out of her!

“ MOOMMM “

“Ahhh....Heyyy....” says Mikasa shocked watching that little guy running to her hurriedly with a backpack in his hand.

“ MOMMMM! GETTT ME MY FOOD HURRY! I GOTTA BE LATE FOR MY SCHOOL IF YOU JUST KEEP ON SITTING LIKE THAT! I AM HUNGRY” says the little guy with his loud voice.

“ Hush! Cant you speak a bit normally? I mean whats with all these shouting! I am not deaf!” scowls Mikasa as she gets up from the dining table.

The boy simply shrugs- Look Mom! I have no time for this....Alright! I am HUNGGRRYYY!

Ah that pout....thinks Mikasa....his cute little pout always makes her heart melt....and those Green eyes...it just reminds her of him! Thinking about him makes her Sad again!

Mikasa brings a plate full of noodles as she pushes it slightly towards the little devil on the other side of dining table.

The little guy hungrily takes the spoon out of it as he starts rolling the strands of noodles in it....and hurriedly stuffs them in his mouth.

Mikasa stares at her little boy silently observing his every features....his antics were just completely like his dad. Mikasa sighs....only if he was here! Suddenly her eyes fell on a small bruise on his forhead...Mikasa frowned....

When did he got that! Damn....did he just again fight with someone in his school yesterday!

This boy will surely make her crazy....

Mikasa glares at the green eyed little boy who was busy in gulping down his glass of water without noticing his mother's furious glare!

Mikasa in serious tone- Eli.....Look at me!

Eli looks at his mother in confusion as he stops munching his food for a moment...

Eli mumbling – Yes Mom!

Mikasa scowls- What is with that scar on your head!

Eli gasps in shock as he looks else where but not in her eyes....he surely tried to hide that thing by bringing his most of the black hair upto his forehead so that his mother wont notice that scar!

Eli nervously while fidgeting a little as he speaks in his child like voice- Errmm...Its nothing...actually...I fell on the way while returning to home so I guess Got hurt a little!

Mikasa glares- Eli...Shut up! Dont dare you lie to me! Since you got admitted to the school...I have been receiving lots of complain due to your rude behaviour towards children! So dont give me that crap! Did you fight again with someone?

Eli glares back at his mother as he says raising his voice- Rude behaviour? I am not Rude! Its not my fault if those kids of my class bumps into me intentionally just to tease me ! I am not gonna keep my mouth shut if they taunts me by calling me Monster Baby! I am gonna punch their freaking ugly face for calling me that! I had enough of it! I am not weak or Something....

Mikasa scolds him as she raises her voice- Eli! Stop it! If they taunts you....its not necessary for you to reply them back! Stop being impulsive! You cant just beat up people if they tell you something! Learn to control yourself!

Eli tries to defend himself- But...

Mikasa holds his shoulders softly- Eli listen to me!

As Eli stares with his big green eyes, Mikasa with broken voice tells him- Punching someone or beating someone wont prove you strong! I know how it feels but you gonna get adjusted to this! You dont need to start a fight with someone if they say hateful words to you! I know you are strong Eli! But you need to control yourself! Your anger wont do any good....

Eli remains mum as he softly shrugs off his mother's hand....taking his back pack on his back.

Eli calmly- I am done with my breakfast! Bye Mom!

Before Mikasa could say anything, Eli runs out of the house way to his school while Mikasa just whispers watching him running away- Bye! Just dont fall into any trouble Eli! You are the only one I have! I have lost everything in my life....I dont want to loose you!

Mikasa stares at sky scattered with clouds and the sun rays with birds flying...

Mikasa murmers as lone tear escapes from her eyes- Eren....I Wish You Were Here!

***********

Eli has been walking merrily along the way towards his school when he hears someone calling him from behind....

Eli turns around and squeals in happiness seeing the blonde hair guy with that scout uniform- Uncle Arlert!

The blond guy walks hurriedly towards him as he laughs- Its Armin!

Eli rolls eyes- oh yeah its the same thing! Arlert is also your name anyways!

Armin giggle- oh well young man ! Off to school ha? Come I will take you there!

Eli with his head high- No need! I can walk to my school myself!

Armin nods his head gently- ofcourse you can! But I have to make sure you dont fall in any trouble you know....or else your mom will be worried!

Eli frowns as he chirps in his child voice- Wait Mom asked you to follow me!

Armin nods in negetive as he nervously says- No No....Not that lately she is being really worried about you! So I thought to have a check on you....

Eli yells angrily- Heyyyy! What the hell is wrong with everyone damn it! I am not a toddler or something! I dont need anyone! I can look out for myself! I am freaking 5 years! Leave me Alone uncle Arlert ! You have your own daughter....Just look after that pathetic princess of Yours!

Saying this....Eli ran off hurriedly before Armin could follow him any further.

Armin was shocked by his reaction! He wasnt expecting such outburst! He was not told by Mikasa to follow him....he just did it cause he felt he had some responsibility towards his best friend's son after what just happened a week back in his school!

But today this out burst....he just completely reminded of HIM!

It wasnt for first time....Eli was like this anyways since he was born....stubborn & pure brat with that pathetic anger of him but he usually doesnt talk like this with him....he is really fond of his uncle Arlert & his only friend Alina Arlert....his & Annie ‘s daughter! Yes They are no more titan shifters now! That power & the curse got ended 6 years back immediately after the rumbling! They were all normal now....

Alina is 4 now....a year younger than Eli...She still didnt get admission in school yet , most probably after she turns 5....she will also start going to school and accompany Eli too...

But well right now Armin is concerned about Eli sudden outburst....did he get into an argument with Mikasa again in morning! He seemed really pissed off hearing his mother’s name!

He needs to talk to Mikasa right now....

***********

Eli was breathing heavily as he stops mid way & looks back....damn his little legs are paining now! He just ran a marathon to escape from Armin.

Aaahhh He hates just being lectured every damn time! Nobody just understands him & his point of view! His mom only thinks him of as some brat who doesnt listen to her or something! What she doesnt understand is....Eli is just tired of this daily bully of him in school by calling him some monster's child, Titan baby, illegitimate kid etc etc ! When he tries to explain this to his mom....all she tells him to not react to them! Like how the hell....why wont he react to those carzy bunch of people who simply insults him! Eli's anger just rose thinking about all these! He realises...he just ran off bit too far from his school....in some empty area with less people walking around! The area has some broken houses all around....people dont live here now much! Duh he is in no mood to walk back to his school....missing a day at school wont be any harm ,thinks Eli.

He just notices a bench a bit far.....and walks towards it & sit down!

He wants to be alone from his mother's scoldings and lectures! Eli always wondered why he didnt have a father like every other kid! He has been numerous times taunted about this by some adults in their neighbours! They simply call him Titan Baby & he hate that Word Titan! He doesnt really know what are those but once he heard some students in school talking about it....Titans were some bad ugly creatures who used to be on this land some years back! And Eli understood he was simply called those ugly creature's kid....

Once he dared to ask his mother about his own dad....but didnt get any answer from her instead he made her sad for some unknown reasons. He hates his mom to be sad or to cry! Its true his mom is strict in many ways and over protective too but Eli loves his Mom very much....just only he wishes if only she understood his feelings! Since Eli never questioned his mom about his Dad whom he never met!

Eli was lost in his thoughts as he was swinging his small legs over the bench absent mindedly....when all of a sudden he felt some one was watching him from far....Eli’s eyes travelled up infront of him as he felt alert all of sudden....

He noticed a Silhouette infront of him......on the wall ahead of that old broken house...someone is standing behind HIM!

To be continued.....

Chapter : 2 - click here

[seraphiixa]

In depth character questions. anon said:  For the character question meme: 1, 3, 20

1.  Death is an inevitable part of life. What is your character’s experience with death? Have they had someone close to them die? Have they ever killed someone? How did these events affect them? Have they been able to move on? What do they believe happens to people when they die? And why? How does your character feel about death? Do they feel at ease, or uncomfortable with the idea of dying?

     Most of Lyra’s family is still alive, thank goodness. Her grandparents all passed away in peace during her childhood due to natural causes, and her parents and her siblings are all still alive. She has, however, removed quite a few people from this world. Due to her extremely cold upbringing, she was taught to regard criminals very harshly, and so if she was unable to capture a pirate or criminal and was forced to neutralize them instead, she did so without hesitation or questioning. It’s part of her job; every soldier in any branch of any military cannot question their actions with the enemy, or else they’d never step foot on the battlefield. Frankly, she doesn’t think about it too much. It’s just a part of her life.

     Lyra thinks there is an afterlife, though she isn’t sure what it’s like. She imagines clouds and light and reunions and happiness. Lyra isn’t afraid of dying, but she is afraid of leaving her life behind. She has a daughter and does not want to leave her alone in the world; she’s also afraid of what parts of history that have not yet come to pass that she will miss out on.

3.   Religiousness is the ritual act of spirituality, it refers to devoutness and piety. Is your character religious? Are they part of a large, organized religion, or a smaller, more personal one? How do they express piety and devotion? is this important to them? Or do they do it out of obligation. When did they begin their habits and why? Is it something they were raised in or something they learned as they grew older?

     Lyra is not religious. Her home island has a minority of residents who believed in the ‘old gods’, which are highly reminiscent of what we know in our world as the Hellenic deities, and Lyra is very familiar with them and celebrates the islands’ festivals with them, but she doesn’t take it very seriously. She doesn’t mind recounting stories and talking about it, but this religion has not been widely practiced on her home island in many hundreds of years. She thinks most people just do it to keep up with tradition.

20.  Not all relationships are healthy, or are even good for us. Has your character ever had any unhealthy, toxic, or abusive relationships? How did your character know the other person in the relationship? If and when did your character realize that this relationship was unhealthy? Was the toxicity mutual, or one-sided? What sort of behaviors, from one, or both parties, defined this unhealthy relationship? Has your character been able to move on from this relationship, or are they still ‘stuck’ in it? If they are past the relationship —or writing from a perspective where they are past it— talk about how your character reflects on it. Is there regret? A sense of satisfaction? Or have they not allowed it to affect them? Could they or would they make amends, if possible?

     Violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse under the cut. 

     Lyra’s marriage was extremely toxic. Her husband was violent, emotionally abusive, sexually abusive, and physically abusive to her. It was somewhat of a quasi-arranged marriage; her parents had insisted she come home to Heraklion Island to meet a young Lieutenant who was stationed there with the intentions of the pair marrying. Lyra did so, at age 22, and they were married for two years. Her former husband’s abuse began only a few weeks after they got married. 

     It was small at first, like most abusive relationships. He contradicted her constantly, belittled her, and tried to make career decisions for her. He routinely gaslighted her, manipulated her, and tried to embarrass her in front of her family. He regarded her in a highly misogynistic way, fully expecting her to stay home and be a trophy wife so he could remain in the Navy, telling her they needed to have children even though she didn’t want any kids. When she made it clear she was not getting out of the Navy nor did she plan on reproducing, the physical abuse began. 

     Her former husband never beat her (or so, that’s what Lyra would claim) but he did very often push her around, shove her into walls, grab her roughly enough to leave bruises, and pull her by her hair to shout into her face. He broke her wrist on one occasion, and gave her a black eye on another when he pushed her face into the railing of a stairwell. This violence always came about when they were in the middle of arguments, so Lyra would make excuses for him and take on the blame for it --- saying she shouldn’t have shouted at him, that she started it, etc etc. She would avoid going to the hospital at all costs in case it raised questions. After all, she was an upstanding Lieutenant in the Navy; she didn’t want anyone to think that she was weak or needed help. She stayed because she was content... It was always the same answers when her friends asked her why she stayed: ‘... It could be worse, it’s not like he beats me, I don’t want to have to start all over, I don’t want to admit that I failed, it’s not as bad as some other marriages, it could be worse...’

     Due to the stress of having to live in a marriage that was failing on all fronts, Lyra lost all sex drive. He would pressure her constantly for sex until she finally gave in, oftentimes just laying there and letting him do what he wanted to get him to stop asking. This went on for months. One time that this happened, Lyra was on top, listless and doing the bare minimum, until he said he was about to ejaculate. She tried to get off of him in order to not get pregnant (because she knew for sure at this point that she did not want a child with him), and he grabbed her hips and held her down on him, forcibly ejaculating inside her. 

     That was how Epone was conceived --- against Lyra’s will. 

    She spent the night screaming at him over it, throwing his things and demanding that he GET OUT of her house, to which he threw things at her and shouted obscenities, as well. She demanded a divorce. He refused to leave. A few weeks later, after not speaking to each other in the house, Lyra went to the doctor because she felt strange and somewhat nauseated. She learned she was pregnant and made nice with her husband that afternoon. She knew she couldn’t leave now. At not until the baby was born. 

     When Epone was born, Lyra fell into a deep and severe postpartum depression. She spent a few more months at home with a husband she didn’t want and a baby she didn’t want, and finally went to the courts to forcibly divorce her husband when Epone was seven months old. She left, leaving Epone in his care, and very rarely goes back --- and only to see Epone. She has a bittersweet relationship with her daughter; she barely knows her because she is gone most of the time, and Epone is a physical reminder of the night her husband raped her and forcibly impregnated her.

     Lyra only realized a few months into the abuse what was happening. Things like this don’t start out all at once; she thought that maybe she just didn’t know him well enough when they got married, but then she realized he was a completely different person than how he presented himself. She wanted a divorce long before she ever vocalized it. There were so many reasons she didn’t divorce him immediately. She was afraid to be alone. She was afraid to admit she failed. She thought that perhaps she didn’t have a good enough reason to divorce him. She was afraid to let her parents down.

     Lyra is not past this. She has not processed it. As soon as they were officially divorced and she returned to the Navy, she gave extremely little thought to it and threw herself into work. She does not want to think about it; she wants to pretend it never happened. Which, admittedly, is not healthy in the slightest. Lyra does not reflect on it, think about it, or have any opinions about what happened, she just wants to carry on as though ages 22-24 never happened for her. 

     She does not want to make amends with her former husband. All he is to her is the father of her daughter; Lyra acknowledges that he is, at least, a good father. Epone is happy, healthy, and loved, and that’s all that Lyra needs. 

[yeaimfishboi]

After the Midnight Hour |  Chapter I: It’s Been a While

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Word Count: 3.4k

Genre: Mafia!AU, angst, a wee bit of floof, and some heated situations?

Warnings: Blood, gore, swearing, character death, etc. Nothing too bad in this chapter

A/N: This is the Jaehyun series for the NCT Mafia Universe! I’ve been working on this piece for about three months now (technically more but shhhhhh) so I really hope you enjoy! (Masterlist in comments)

Summary: Having always taken care of her sister, Y/N finds herself in a predicament when it comes to the cost of medical treatment. Though when a certain loan shark is reached through her best friend, she receives much more than she bargained for. 

”Nothing Good Ever Happens After Midnight.” -Bo Schembechler

“Y/N, how’s that job of yours going?” your sister asked.

“It’s going okay Jiyeon. It’s hard work, and I’m not the biggest fan of my coworkers but I’m making enough money for us,” you responded softly smiling at her.

You slowly examined your surroundings, the smell of false flowers and antiseptics quipped your nostrils. You heard the hasty and abrupt monotone beeps of the cardiac monitor attached to Jiyeon’s chest. The normal coarse bland blue blanket other patients used was replaced by a soft fuzzy with green, purple, and blue polka dots that you gave to your sister months ago.

Jiyeon was diagnosed with stage two Osteosarcoma when she was about 13. She fought it off and was in remission at the age of 17. It was an amazing feat since the doctors didn’t expect her to live through it let alone beat it, but, much to your dismay, it came back when she was 19. When you were 18 (about a month or two before your high school graduation), Jiyeon was nearly 20, your parents passed away in a car accident. You and your parents were driving to go shopping for food when the car slipped on gravel and flipped over multiple times. Your parents died instantaneously, yet you were very lucky since you sat in the backseat you were pretty encased in the car. You only had a few broken bones, you suffered a crushed lung, and some bruised organs. You made a fairly fast recovery, but all of that seemed to fade away when the doctors found a malignant brain tumor in Jiyeon about 3 years ago, at that point everything seemed so bleak. Jiyeon had undergone at least 4 major surgeries since then but every single surgery somehow only removed parts of the tumor at a time. She’s been in hospice since her last surgery, confined to a room. Not able to leave whatsoever, and it made you feel like a horrible sister for not being able to stay by her side all the time since you had to work a lot. You were only able to visit her a few hours a day. Usually, you guys played video games or ranted about annoying people. Sometimes she gave you makeovers since she loved makeup and you never wore it. You treasured those few hours since it was all you got and might possibly all you could ever get.

“Ms, Y/S/N?” your thoughts were interrupted by Doctor Kim entering the room. “May I speak with you?” You stood up and started following the doctor out.

“I love you Jiyeon, I’ll be right back,” you slowly shut the door behind you.

“I regret to inform you Ms.-”

“Call me Y/N please,” you interrupted.

“Ms. Y/N, I regret to inform you that the last surgery went without success. We can’t seem to find a way to remove this tumor. We are going to try one more surgery, and follow it up with rigorous radiation therapy and chemotherapy, but it’s going to cost a lot,” the doctor tried to subtly point out the obvious, which was that you were barely scraping by for yourself with the cost for your sister’s treatments on top of that. You knew at this point you had one last option, you just never thought it would come to that, but you had to do it.

“It’s fine, Doctor Kim. Do whatever you need to save her. I’m just going to go tell her,” you sighed as tears pricked your eyes. You slowly walked into the room towards your sister’s bed, when she interrupted your sullenness.

“It didn’t work, did it?” she asked.

“No, I’m so sorry Ji. They’re going to try another surgery and then combat that with chemo and radiation.”

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I’m going to be okay. Just make sure that you stay alive as well, okay?” she softly smiled while she squeezed your hand. She knew your habits just as well as you did. You always put her first, and sometimes (the majority of the time) that meant you went without food or a real roof over your head.

“I’ve got to head to work Jiyeon, I need to be a little early since I just started working there and I’d like to keep it. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll have a surprise for you,” you said waving goodbye.

“Goodbye, I love you Y/N,” she smiled.

As you exited the hospital you pulled out your phone and made a much-needed call. With every tap on your phone screen, your heart pounded louder and louder, your anxiety grew more and more. You put the phone to your ear and listened to the rings as they shook the inside of your head.

“Heyo,” the other line responded.

“Ten, it's me, remember how you said if I ever needed help with what’s going on you knew someone who could help me? Well, I’m taking you up on that offer,” Ten was your childhood best friend, but as you two grew older you drifted apart. As of high school, all your time was spent caring for your sister, and Ten had found a new group of friends that hung out a little too dangerously for you. Even though you two had stopped talking you still both cared deeply for each other.

On the day of your graduation, Ten was there with a bouquet of flowers and a big hug. You still have that photo of the two of you by your bed. He was the only one to come to it as your sister was in the hospital and your parents had just recently passed away. He even dragged some of his friends to come with him but they didn’t get that much of a chance to talk to you since you had to leave quite soon after. You did talk with a few of them though, you attended school with some of them. You liked to call those boys your children since they were so young at the time and didn’t have much in the way of parent figures in their lives. At graduation, they helped you carry things and helped you up the stairs as you were still on crutches. You’ve always wondered how those kids are doing, you missed them a lot. You also enjoyed the company of Ten’s other friend, but you couldn’t remember his name. Johnny, was it?

That day, right before you left, Ten pulled you aside and said that if you ever needed help with everything going on, he knew a way to do it.

“Is everything okay Y/N?” your thoughts were cut short by the sound of concern coming from your former best friend’s mouth.

“I’ll be fine if this works,” you sighed.

“Do you want to talk about it? You know what, I’m taking you out. I haven’t seen you or really heard from you in 3 years. We’ll talk about everything then, okay? I’ll meet you at our favorite tomorrow at 3.”

“Alright,” you hung up the phone and headed to work.

~

As you opened the door to the diner, you were immediately greeted by one of the waitresses.

“Y/N!!! It's not your usual day, what are you doing here?” she asked smiling ecstatically at you.

“I’m here to meet someone!” you smiled back.

“Does Y/N finally have a date?” the cook chimed in from the back.

“No, Tomas. We discussed this, I don’t have time for a relationship,” you retorted. To which he just rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want to sit in the usual place while you wait while you wait for them?” the waitress asked.

“Sure, Jen! He should be here any minute at this point!”

“It sure sounds like a date!” Tomas shouted again.

“Oh shove it, Tom!”

As if right on cue the door to the diner opened. Revealing a young man that you could barely recognize. He had bright celeste and lilac hair that he had styled up with a little gel making it look almost effortless. He wore a black leather jacket that had some wear and tear on it. You were pretty sure it was the one you bought him for his birthday four years ago. He was wearing tight skinny jeans which showed off his muscular thighs. He had tattoos going up his neck of all colors and patterns. The one that stood out to you was one of a red rose that stood vertically to the right of his throat.

“Ten?” you stood up to face the man.

“Y/N?” he scanned your whole body up and down.

“You look different,” you both blurted out at the same time.

“Wait, Ten?” Thomas shouted.

“Hey, Tomas. It’s been a while,” Ten chuckled quietly as he took off his jacket and set it down on the stool next to you.

“You were right Y/N, definitely not a date,” Tomas chuckled.

“Hey, Y/N, who is this Ten and how does Tomas know him?” Jen whispered to you.

“Oh my god, that didn’t even process in my mind,” you laughed at yourself. “Jen, this is Ten. Ten is my childhood best friend. Ten this is Jen, Jen started working here as a waitress about two years ago.”

“I see you’ve still continued to go here?” Ten smiled at you. One thing you definitely missed was Ten’s beautiful smile.

“It was one of the few things that connected me to home so I continued coming,” you smiled back at him.

“Y/N, I assume you want your usual? Same with you Ten?” Thomas asked loud enough for all three of you to hear.

“I haven’t had an Elvis Presley in 3 years, that sounds really good Tomas,” Ten yelled back. An Elvis Presley: peanut butter, bacon, and bananas. Three things that are absolutely delicious on their own, but put them together and it’s one of the most disgusting and deplorable things. Almost as despicable as mayo, peanut butter, and lettuce.

“Y/N, how were you ever friends with him? An Elvis Presley? And I thought your tastes were weird,” Jen shook her head.

“I don’t know, Jen. He’s a strange one,” you laughed.

“Yah, leave me and my food choices alone,” he nudged you.

“Hey, Y/N, how did Jiyeon’s last surgery go?” Thomas asked whilst he was hard at work.

“Oh, yes! We’ve been dying to know!” Jen chimed in.

“That’s actually what Ten’s here to talk about with me,” you smiled sullenly.

“Oh, so no eavesdropping? Got it,” Tomas chuckled.

“I mean you could, but if you did I’d have to cut off your tongue,” you casually stuck your tongue out at him.

“Avox style, I like it,” he smirked back at you to which you just shook your head.

“You guys are all really close,” Ten interrupted.

“We’re her only friends. We keep trying to get her to do more stuff with other people but all she has time for is work and Jiyeon, and the twice a week she comes here for lunch,” Jen smiled.

“But we love her, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tomas joined.

“That’s really sweet. I wish I was here all these years to be here for you Y/N,” Ten sighed.

“It’s okay you’re here now, and that’s all she needs,” Tomas handed both of you your plates, “now go catch up. We’ll be quiet... kinda.”

“So how is everything going Y/N?” Ten turned to you.

“Jiyeon’s been keeping it together, her last surgery didn’t work, so our last resort is one last surgery with rigorous chemo and radiation ther-”

“I didn’t ask how Jiyeon is doing, I’m asking how you are doing,” he interrupted.

“I can answer that one,” Jen jumped in before you could even answer.

“Let’s not talk about me, how are you doing, Ten?” you asked.

Your dejected look could even deter the strongest of humans when it comes to talking about your life, and all of the people in the diner seemed to agree.

“I’ve got a girl,” he smiled.

“Oh my god, you do?” Tomas shouted out, “How is it that Ten got someone before you did Y/N? I never saw that coming!”

“Butt out of my love life Tomas-”

“I don’t have time for a relationship,” you and Tomas said simultaneously.

“I’m trying to help here, it’s been boring here since, you know..” Tomas trailed off.

“I’m not enough for you guys, I see how it is,” you laughed.

“You had a boyfriend?” Ten nearly choked on his sandwich.

“Yes, and it ended. Not on good terms. Anyways, what’s she like? Is she cool, is she as nerdy as you? Tell me everything!” you giggled at him

“She’s great. She’s a lot like you. At least a lot like you when we were kids. She keeps me in check.”

“Good because if nobody is there to watch you when you get angry, we’re all dead.”

You listened to Ten talk for a while. Hearing fun stories about his girlfriend and his friends. The dumb stuff they’ve done to all the small things he enjoyed, with Jen and Thomas joining in every once in a while with some stories about you, albeit it wasn’t very much though. All you two did was talk. Tomas did break into a dance at one point when his favorite song played on the radio. He tried pulling you off your seat to get you to dance too like you normally would, but you were far too embarrassed to dance with him. Ten also made a comment about how you didn’t have to hold back your eccentric ways around him.

Thomas was telling Ten a story about how you stood on the counters one time after Jen cleaned them because she was irritating you. As he was re-telling the story (and reliving it), you looked down at your phone. 6:15.

“Shit, I’m going to be late,” you burst out.

“Don’t worry I’ve already got the bag of food for her. Say hi to her for me. Okay, Y/N?” Thomas stopped you before you had a major freak out.

“If you want to ask her out just do it,” you teased him.

“Where would we go on a date, the hospital?” you just shrugged at his response.

“Hey, Ten. Do you want to come with?” you asked him whilst grabbing your coat.

“Sure, where are we going,” he asked totally oblivious to what you and Thomas were talking about.

“We’re visiting Jiyeon.”

~

“I’m sorry I’m late, but I’ve got something for you, Ji! You’re really going to like this one,” you smiled at her as you opened the door.

“What? Did Thomas put Nutella in the croissant instead of chocolate?” she laughed at you.

“Nope. Come on out kid,” you opened the door to reveal Ten and Jiyeon’s jaw dropped.

“Hi Jiyeon,” he smiled at her shyly.

“TEN? IS THAT YOU?” she screamed, “Look at you! You have tattoos, you’ve got blue and purple hair, and you’re wearing... leather? Are you sure you didn’t eat Ten?”

“No, it’s really me,” he chuckled at her silliness.

“My goodness Y/N, look at how grown up he is!” she squealed.

“I can see Ji. I’m not blind. I also got word from the doctor, they scheduled your next surgery for next month until then it’s the same normal treatment.”

“So no sugar?” she asked as her face fell.

“I brought you some, just for tonight. Courtesy of the great Chef Thomas,” you smiled sweetly at her and handed her the bag with the sweets Thomas made her.

“Even you guys are much closer now,” Ten pointed out your interactions.

“She’s all I’ve got in this world. Well besides Jen and Thomas but I only see them twice a week for an hour,” you frowned.

“I mean I am all you got after that ass Cha-”

“Ji, we’re not talking about that. I doubt Ten wants to listen to my only relationship and how it was a failure,” you cut her off before she could start talking about it.

“I would love to hear all about this boy, and how I should cut his dick off,” Ten chimed in.

“Please do, he deserves it. If I wasn’t confined to this damn bed I would’ve done it myself,” Jiyeon laughed while wiggling in place, acting as if she was restrained to her bed.

“Nobody is cutting off anyone’s dicks, alright?” you scolded the two of them.

The rest of the night consisted of the three of you joking around, playing Mario Kart, or stupid little card games. You guys even reminisced about all the dumb things you did as kids. You guys went on and on until you realized it was ten o’clock at night.

“I think it’s about time we leave. I have to get ready for work in a few hours,” you huffed raising yourself from your seat, Ten following suit. You two started heading to the door before your sister stopped you.

“Ten was this a one-time thing, or are you coming around more often? Y/N really needs someone besides me to help make sure she’s taking care of herself,” Jiyeon looked up at him.

“I promise you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. I’ve missed you guys way too much. I'll try and visit you once a week Jiyeon, then you can dish some more about this ex-boyfriend of hers,” he chuckled at her.

“Please, I’m pretty sure Y/N and my designated nurse are tired of me talking about it, but it’s all the drama I’ve got to talk about,” hearing her say that you immediately felt a pang in your chest. It hurt you to realize all your sister had gone through. She’s been stuck in this place for years, she hasn’t been able to leave because the doctors feared she’d have a seizure. She’s right when she says that the whole boyfriend situation was the only drama she had to talk about unless you wanted to count that one time the hospital didn’t give her pudding with her meal.

It hurts you to know that your sister is hurting not only physically but mentally as well. The last time she saw the sun glisten across the ocean from the beach was three years ago, but to be fair that was the last time you saw it as well. She hasn’t experienced things and normal human would in so long. It’s been three years since she has gotten to go clothes shopping, three years since she’s gotten to sit down and eat at the diner, it’s been three years since she’s stepped out of this white, overly sanitized box of confinement.

“Earth to Y/N!” your thoughts were interrupted by Ten waving his hand in front of your face.

“She does that every once in a while, she’s thinking about sad stuff,” Jiyeon giggled, “it’s definitely time to get her out of here.”

“I love you, Ji, I’ll try and stop by tomorrow,” you smiled at your older sister.

“I love you too, take care of yourself, too, please.” You nodded slightly at her.

You and Ten headed out of Jiyeon’s room and exited the hospital. The darkness combined with the contrast of street lights had thrown you for a loop. It felt like it was just ten minutes ago that you entered the hospital with the evening air.

“Went by fast for you too, huh?” Ten’s voice interrupted your reminiscing.

“Yeah, it did. I really missed moments like these. Where time seems to move far faster than we believe it does,” you smiled pull down your jacket by the pockets.

“We’ll be having a lot more of these moments, just like we used to. I promise I owe you at least that for being gone for so long,” Ten’s phone rang interrupting him from his apology. He quickly answered the phone and hung it back up, “that’s my cue. It was great seeing you again, but before I leave,” he handed you a small piece of paper, “this is the address he’ll meet you at, tomorrow at midnight. Be careful in that part of the neighborhood, okay?”

“Okay, Ten, I will.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Lollipunch

NCT Jaehyun x Reader + Johnny x Reader Characters: olderbrother!Lee Taeyong, Jung Jaehyun, Johnny Seo, Nakamoto Yuta Summary:  Taeyong, who was the coolest, baddest boy in school, happened to be your psychotically protective older brother. He instantly hates on whoever even remotely shows interest in you, and ends up loathing the flowery nerd Jaehyun for sneaking sappy poetry into your locker. Warnings: Honestly no plot, angst-ish?, punching, degrading, hot-headedness, slightly graphic, etc. Words: 1k+

A/N: baby this is an au ok. we all know taeyong is the fluffiest child of the world soOO yeah

Taeyong popped a large-ish cherry lollipop in his mouth and twitched his nose as he stormed off to his target.

“Ya, Jung Jaehyun!” he screamed, causing you who was minding your own business, fixing your things in your locker, to whip your head in the direction of the idiotically enraged man.

You knit your brows deeply as he made his way over to you.

With his flame red hair, black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and rough walk, it was unmistakable that this gangster was looking for trouble, even with the stick of candy sticking out of his lips.

There were some still wholly confused as to how you two were related, with how contrasting you looked against him in your peach dress and fruity perfume. And even you question it sometimes, but quickly push it away because you knew deep down, Taeyong was simply a soft boy that loved cuddles.

But it wasn’t one of those days for him.

Today, he looked like he was looking for blood.

“Yaaa,” you drag out as your older brother made his way over, “why are you being mean to Jaehyun when he isn’t even here—“ but alas, Taeyong seemingly missed you, his eyes focused on someone farther. And suddenly, it wasn’t too much of a surprise to find out that he was going for something—someone—directly behind you.

Then there was a loud clash against the lockers.

You jolted back in surprise, gasping. With your hand clutched on your chest, you turned around and saw no other than a glasses clad Jung Jaehyun pinned against metal by his shoulders with Taeyong staring him down, absolutely furious.

“YA!” the assaulter erupted, making you cover your ears in panic.

You dashed forward and tried to separate them, but Taeyong didn’t budge a bit off of Jaehyun.

“I told you to stop leaving your sobby love notes, and arts and crafts projects around my sister, loser.” Taeyong growled, tightening his grip on Jaehyun’s clothes. “She wants nothing to do with you, or your four eyes.”

You let out a breath in frustration, “Taeyong! Taeyong that’s enough!”

“And another thing: stop creeping around her, or I'll beat you up better than Sugar Ray.”

You whined and once again tried to peel off your brother away from the poor, bluing Jaehyun. “Taeyong…” you released like a threat, but to the said person's ears it was simply irritating.

He growled and tuned to you. “STAY OUT OF THIS!” he shouted, shoving you away, unintentially sending you falling back on your tailbone.

You made a pained sound and simultaneously two different voices called for you. One was Jaehyun, and the other, you knew to be Johnny, who currently running down the hall towards this hurricane.

Johnny hated it when his best friend, Taeyong, got his sister, you, involved in his muck. Johnny tried to get you to stay out of it as much as he could. He hated seeing you get hurt; it angered him.

Taeyong turned to you, stunned, “Are you okay?”

And unexpectedly, Jaehyun pushed his captor off and yelled, “How could you hurt your own sister?” all before throwing a right hook to the other guy’s nose.

Tayong gripped his face and went flying back. Though admittedly, he didn’t think the scum Jung Jaehyun had it in him to fight back, with how used he was with fist fights, he quickly regained composure, and quickly retaliated.

“YOU BASTARD!” Taeyong shouted, throwing a solid punch to Jaehyun’s cheek, before ramming into him and punching him onto the ground.

It was at this point Johnny came and helped your stunned, screaming self up from the floor. You screamed at your brother to stop, but it fell empty to his ears.

 “JOHNNY DO SOMETHING!” you cried and turned to the said man. Johnny was a good guy and a good friend, and he wasn’t particularly scared of Taeyong, but that wasn’t the reason why he hesitated for a moment. He hesitated because there was a bitter taste in his throat, because you thought Jaehyun was actually cute no matter how unpopular he was.

Neither did Johnny fuss about popularity really, but he honestly couldn’t fathom what you saw in this awkward chump… when there was him.

Eventually though, as Johnny was a good person, he had taeyong off of a badly bruised ad bloody nosed Jaehyun in a matter of seconds. Did I mention Johnny was extremely tall?

You ran to him Jaehyun as Taeyong was being pacified by his best friend. You hear your brother try to tell you off, but you ignored him like he did you. You lifted Jaehyun’s head and used your shaky hand to wipe off the red on him with your baby blue hankie.

You boiled in anger and your tears welled up. You whipped your head to your brother and shouted with a broken voice “ARE YOU PSYCHO?”

“Get away from him!” Taeyong barked, trying to get away from Johnny.

“You could’ve killed him, moron!”

“That’ll teach him to stay away from you, teach everyone who dares come near you with goo-goo eyes!”

“He barely even talked to me, Taeyong!”

Taeyong scoffed, “He’s a lunatic!”

“Oh, and beating him up proves you aren’t?!” you fumed. With a digusted scoff, you turned away from your brother, “That’s enough. Take him away from here, Johnny.”

Your heart broke at the sight of the flinching man on the floor. You looked at the crowd around you and scoffed once more, “SOMEONE CALL A NURSE! RED CROSS! AN AMBULANCE! ANYTHING!”

 Taeyong fought off Johnny, “Fucking, dumbass! I’m not leaving my sister with that garbage!”

You huffed and turned to Johnny who looked at you with soft eyes. You urged him by calling his voice, but Johnny didn’t move your brother away at all.  

“I think you should leave too,” Johnny spoke, eyeing the man on the floor.

“You dogs,” you speak lowly, “I can’t just leave him here.”

 “Well, actually,” a voice called and emerged a guy named Yuta. “You can now. You shouldn’t be here,” he added, looking down his best friend, gripping the handle of his first aid kit in hand.

Tayeong laughed dryly at the sight of Yuta, “What a fucking nerd.”

 “Yuta,” I say with a soft voice

He sighs and turns to me, “I’d say it’s not your fault, but… you’ve done enough here.” Yuta then crouched down and started tending to his friend. At this point a couple of students in the Red Cross started piling around us.

“Lets go!” Taeyong shouted. He snored and spat out blood to his side. You stood up from where you sat and walked off with Taeyong and Johnny. Your eyes were fixated however on the battered man surely unconscious on the floor.