#Don't mind the hour i'm answering this at...I've simply become too beautiful for beauty sleep and am cursed with insomnia

[belle--ofthebrawl]

I am very, very curious about the whole world is your phantom limb 👀👀👀

In a lot of fics, I see it mentioned how Aether is "extra empathetic" or can "pull away exhaustion" and while I love to see other people's interpretations of quintessence magic...I began thinking about how something like that might realistically affect a person. What carrying around other people's pain does when all you want to do is help but maybe don't have the best way of setting boundaries or taking care of yourself. Especially in a universe where magic is involved.

I mention in "exalt and praise his name" how Aeon cures Sunny of a sprain but is warned he has to get rid of that very quickly before it latches onto him or somebody else. How the grass withers and dies just from that little bit of pain.

What would it look like if someone held onto it instead? It's just a little bit of hurt, they can handle it. They're better equipped for it and their friends deserve to be happy. Only it keeps happening and that little ball of pain turns into something very large very quickly.

Thankfully, Omega has been keeping an eye on Aether ever since the last tour. He knows Aether is a grown ghoul and can handle himself but something isn't quite right this time around.

Anyway, he daddies Aether like no one has ever daddied Aether before.

[raggaraddy]

Unexpected

Request: Assassin! Yoong's S/O becomes pregnant. @sunheeyey @justmydirtysheet

A/N: Soo much love and requests for Yoongi at the moment, I can hardly keep up.😂 But it makes sense. How could you not love the Pretty Kitty!

Trigger warning: Mention of abortions, yandere themes.

Yoongi

Yandere! Yoongi

Assassin! Yoongi

Finding you clutching the toilet, overwhelmed with nausea, Yoongi looked more concerned than you would have imagined he might.

"What's wrong? Did you eat something bad?" He makes the same leap you initially did.

You're looking up at him, stalling in thought trying to process how to say this. Do you say it directly? Or subtly. Do you even tell him? You could be wrong and you have no idea how he's going to react.

"I've-I haven't gotten my last two periods." You say feeling ashamed as if it was something you had done wrong.

Yoongi's face pales his eyes going wide. His own voice catching in his throat worse than yours did, as he struggles to find any words. You'd never seen him this caught off guard before.

"Go," He points down the hall to your room, instantly second-guessing himself. Pulling his hand back in, scratching his head. "Go to your- um," Normally when he didn't know how to react to something, he could simply lock you away. To give himself as much time as he wanted. But this? That reaction seemed callous, even for him. "Jus-just wait. Here. I'll-. Just wait." He stammers, too quickly running down the stairs. Retreating from you like you had told him you had the plague.

You feel the house shake as the front door slams forcefully.

At this point, you had only just pieced it together in your mind also. And the same as him, you had no idea how you were supposed to react or feel. Truthfully, you felt like you were suspended, waiting for Yoongi to get back. You didn't want to let an opinion set in until you knew what he was thinking. He controlled your entire world, and no matter what you thought or wanted, he would have the final say.

Coming back up the stairs with quickened footsteps and a large shopping bag, he drops several kinds of pregnancy tests at your feet. A complete look of confusion on his face.

"I didn't know which one was good, so just use them all.' His tone was still high and strung out.

It takes an hour, but you go through the tests. Each one revealing a positive result. Yoongi sitting on the edge of the bath anxiously watching the results come in one after the other with an answer he was struggling to accept.

After the 5th test, all his tense energy overflows and he erupts. "I thought you said you were on birth control!"

"I am," you attest. Chewing your lip raw.

"Then what the fuck happened. How the hell did you fuck this up?!" He raves, accusing you as if this was within your control.

"I-I don't know,"

He storms off. He wasn't actually waiting for you to answer. He's frustrated and panicking and he just wanted to aim that at someone else. You can feel the front door shuddering again, the house returning to a desolate quiet

Slumping to the bathroom floor, you hold your knees while crying. It's not your fault, you know it isn't but Yoongi's fit has made you feel so guilty and responsible. Your birth control is something that you had put in years ago, and it should still be working. You really don't know how this could have happened.

Over the next few days, Yoongi avoids you. He came back later that same day, but since then he hasn't spoken to you. Hardly even sparing you a glace. Every time you see him, you have to restrain yourself from asking your burning questions. If you try to force him to talk about this, you know it won't end well.

So in the meantime, you honestly don't want to think about it. But that's all you do.

It sounded so bizarre the first few times you thought it. But you were pregnant. You had a baby growing inside you. Something so small and beautiful. Something that was all yours.

Your mind kept imagining how they might look. Would they have more of Yoongi's features or yours? Would it be a boy or a girl? How could you ever decide on a name? What happens if you change your mind about the name? What would their first word be?

By the 4th day, you'd completely disregarded your intentions not to make your mind up. Without you even trying to, your mind was made up for you and after only 4 days you were absolutely and unendingly in love with your baby.

Yoongi had still yet to say a word on the topic. But you were terrified. He could be so merciless and uncaring. Look at his profession. At all the horrendous things you'd seen him do. Look at what he did to you. How could you think he would ever allow you to keep it?

But this was your baby! He couldn't take it from you!

You kept making yourself sick with worry. You were fearing the worst. Unable to find any way to convince yourself that he would have a positive answer for you. Believing he would never let you keep it. You kept having nightmarish thoughts of ways he might force you to abort it. Of what he might do it you refused. Steadily you were terrorizing and depressing yourself. Crying yourself to sleep night after night.

10 days after you found out you were woken by so much commotion downstairs.

Coming onto the ground floor, you find the living room and kitchen filled with boxes and bags. Looking like a baby supply store had exploded in your house. Cribs, strollers, bouncers, baby clothes, toys. Everything you knew a baby needed, and a lot you had no idea about.

But the sight is an answer without words and tears come to your eyes right away. Your heart lifting in relief.

Yoongi catches sight of you standing in the stairway, a sheepish glint in his eye as he cluelessly holds up a drill and a manual. Studying the box of a baby gate with confusion printed on his face. He looks thoroughly out of his element.

"I don't- I don't know what any of this stuff is. I-I-" he stammers looking around the chaos. "I want everything to be right though." He looks at you softly, lightly biting his lip. "Y/n, I really don't know anything about all this. I'm gonna need you to teach me, please. Teach me how to take care of our baby."

You inhale and exhale a sigh all of the past weeks stress floating off of you. The universe finally giving you exactly what you needed. Tears of joy rolling down your face you step through the mess and you run into his arms, sinking into his chest. Feeling complete and at ease as you feel him squeeze you back.

"Of course Yoongi. We'll do this together."

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch. 6

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5

It becomes a sort of evening ritual between the two of you, waking Cassandra up at sunset.

You're always cautious with your movements and how much light you allow in from the hallway as you enter her lavish bedroom, but the cold fear that used to grip at your chest is no longer there.

Measured steps take you to the edge of her bed.

Cassandra usually sleeps on her side, yet today she's on her front, firm back and creamy thigh tantalizingly on display against satin crimson sheets. Her pretty face is turned halfway into her pillow, a river of rich brown waves falling behind her ear and over one shoulder.

The sight makes you stop and stare for a moment. A strange feeling —accomplishment?— swells within your chest at the thought you know just how smooth and sensitive that skin is.

Then you shake your head at yourself. Pull it together. It's one thing to accept you're in a mutually beneficial arrangement with a killer —you remain intact, she scratches an itch, both of you share the pleasure as a means of escape or passing the time— but it is entirely another to be proud of it.

She's nothing of yours. Not your lover, certainly not your girl. That would imply you stand on equal ground which you most certainly do not. You're exactly what she calls you;

A plaything.

The question is, inside your head, what do you call her?

"My lady." you say, keeping your voice low. She doesn't stir but somehow you know she's awake.

"Either wake me up nicely or don't wake me at all." the words come semi-muffled against her pillow. "If I wanted to hear 'my lady' I'd have another maid come."

Well. She does seem to enjoy when you take some creative liberties. So you lean forward and press your lips just over her knee, then move a tad higher on her thigh, then kiss the veins visible on her hand.

Cassandra's mouth slowly pulls into a pleased smile as she turns onto her side. Her fingers then curl on the neckline of your shirt and tug you forward, into a quick little kiss that ends with a nibble on your tongue.

You always get anxious when she does that —it's probably why she does it in the first place— that you'll end up with a piece missing, but so far you haven't even been cut. And if you're honest with yourself, which you're not, but if you were... the thrill is a turn on.

Cassandra licks her lips and scoots back, patting the spot she just vacated on the queen-sized mattress. You look at her, confused. Surely she isn't suggesting...

"Come, now. I don't bite." A devilish smirk curls her mouth while she tells probably the biggest lie of the year. "Keep me company until dinner."

You climb onto her bed like it's a freaking minefield. As carefully as you lower yourself onto the crimson sheets, however, the bruises across your sides still protest. You subtly suck in air through your teeth.

Cassandra's fingers slide over to you, to the exposed part of your waist from where your shirt has risen up. There's a visible patch of purple there that she traces —the coolness of her skin is so soothing— until she presses into it. The brief flare of pain makes you gasp. She giggles.

"You make such nice expressions to pain." she says, as though tempted to draw more from you.

"I've been told my pleasured ones are better." you reply quickly.

Cassandra chuckles. "Is that so?" Her yellowish eyes are gleaming with amusement as she pushes you onto your back and straddles you.

The sight is enough to steal your breath away. The sinful black of her underwear peeks through the royal red of the sheets tangled around her waist, all a wonderful antithesis with her incredibly pale skin.

You want to touch. But then you may lose your hands, so you lock your muscles down and wait for her move.

Cassandra slowly trails a slender finger up your neck, all the way to the underside of your bottom lip. "...yeah, they're good too." she breathes, although you've almost forgotten what you were talking about.

"Can't hold a candle to yours." you whisper back. At this point, you're not really capable of rational thought.

You loathe the effect she has on you. How everything she's done can just be bypassed in your head whenever she gets like this with you.

Cassandra's mouth twists into a near coy little smile. "I'll take your word for it." she says. "There hasn't been anyone else to see them, so."

Wait. Your mind stutters to a halt. Wait. What?

According to rumor, the Dimitrescus have been around for over one hundred years. From what you've seen in the castle, probably longer. And you... you're her first?

"Cat got your tongue?" she giggles again, taking your chin between two long fingers. "I think I may like surprise on you best."

You want to ask if nobody's ever interested her before, but you're afraid to overstep. Cassandra seems to know, though and has no problems answering your unasked question;

"The first few dozen years after the mutations were... very bad. The hunger and thirst were enough to drive one mad. Didn't leave much room for anything else." she explains. "And humans in general are only attractive to me chained up and bled out."

Something inside you recoils at how casually she says it. Like she's simply commenting on the weather.

"But you... you have a little spark that I like." She smirks down at you.

"What about before?" you ask.

"Hm?"

"You said after the mutations. What about before?"

Cassandra's smile gets swallowed up by the abyss so quickly you wonder if you imagined it there. Tension builds at her temples and her eyes take on an icy quality that feels like it extinguishes all warmth in the room.

"There is no before."

You've never heard her voice like that. You hope you never will again, either.

The conversation drifts to lighter subjects, then. She asks you about the world beyond the village and you share what you remember from your childhood, until it is time to escort her to dinner.

But even as she eats and talks with her family, even when she leaves with her mother and sisters and you're left alone, to clean after bloody plates with the other maids, you can't shake off that look in her eyes when you dared ask about her life pre-mutations.

The more you linger on it... there's only one word that comes to mind as an accurate description.

Haunted.

-

-

Deep in your slumber, you hear the telltale buzzing of flies.

Something winged flutters against your cheek, but you merely stir. It prods at your jaw and you grunt. Leave me alone, you want to protest, brain muddled with sleep still.

Until.

A nip that cuts a thin line on your jaw has you springing upright in bed. "Agh!" Your hand flies to the wound, eyes wide.

A familiar form materializes out of an insect swarm, right in front of you. Cassandra grabs at your hand before you can start flailing and panicking any harder than you already are. Your lungs empty of hair in the milliseconds it takes you to realize she's not here to kill you.

Probably.

"Calm down." she says it like you're overreacting.

You try to take a deep, relaxing breath, but she leans forward in the meantime, running the tip of her tongue over the fresh cut on you. So much for oxygen. She even hums against your neck. Despite the sting, your stomach flutters.

Cassandra pulls back, licking her lip. "There. All better now?"

No. Your heart is trying to jump out of your chest. Has she never heard of knocking? For the love of everything Holy out there, it's the middle of the night.

"W-what are you doing here?" you ask.

A dramatic huff escapes her. "I'm bored."

Ah, yes, that makes a lot of sense. You spare a moment to wonder what your life has come to, then accept lack of proper rest and sit back against your pillows. Cassandra takes it as an invitation to push off her hood and plant herself next to you.

"Do you... want to go for a walk outside?" you suggest, uncertain.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree for a moment. Then she seems to remember something that dims the glow. "Ugh. Can't. It's way too cold tonight."

That... shouldn't be and issue for her, should it? It makes you wonder.

"Well, if I stay here I'm going to fall asleep." you sheepishly admit.

Cassandra's gaze darkens as she runs her fingertips down the taut skin of your bare middle, leaning over you like a lioness cornering her prey.

"I don't mind biting you awake if you do."

You want to say that you mind, yet her lips are on top if yours, smooth, tasting of strawberry lipbalm and that's the end of that conversation.

"But I am willing to cut you a deal." A manicured nail presses a bit at the middle of your chest. "Put that smart tongue of yours to good use and I'll let you get your sleep."

So spoiled and so demanding, you think. But then, looking at her face this close up... So beautiful.

You forget all about sleep for the next half hour or so as you focus solely on Cassandra, your bedroom filling with her quiet sighs and moans.

True to her word, she does ease back when she's satisfied and you're so tired your eyes start drooping before you've even lowered your head to your pillow.

She doesn't move to leave though... and you find that you don't mind.

When you drift off to sleep this time, your last thought is that the gentle chill of her body beside yours is almost...

Comforting.

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠❞ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦

after all this time, i start asking why i'm staying

were you ever mine?

are we something that's worth saving?

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, happy ending

❥ warnings ; cursing, themes of cheating

❥ synopsis ; you're will's s/o. when he comes home from work, you can tell he's off. what you didn't expect was him to kick you out.

❥ a/n ; none!

"Will?"

You call out after hearing the front door to your house open and shut. When you don't get a response, you get up from your laying position on the couch and approach the front door.

There, Will stood. His back was turned to you as he hung up his coat, and although you could not see his face, you could immediately tell he was off. Even the energy around him felt dark and tense.

"Oh, hey, hun.." You said anxiously, trying not to set him off in any way.

Will didn't react to your voice. Instead, he backed away from the clothing rack and walked past you, not even bothering to spare you a look. This wasn't the first time Will acted out like this, especially considering he was exhausted all the time from the work Crawford gave him. But he would at least greet you soon as he walked through the door, not flat out treat you as if you didn't exist.

"Will," you sighed dejectedly, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. You quietly followed him upstairs to the master bedroom, where he began to strip off his work clothes, changing into something more comfortable. Still, he ignored your presence. You had to make another move.

You slowly approached him from behind, placing your hands on his shoulders. You were immediately taken back when he forcefully removed himself from your touch and walked away to another corner of the room.

"Will, I just-"

"What?" he scoffed mockingly, "You just want to help?"

"You're my boyfriend, Will, of course I want to!"

He laughed.

"It certainly doesn't help when you breathe down my neck every fucking minute."

Tears pricked in your eyes, Will's vicious tone scaring you. You searched Will's own eyes, trying to find any trace of remorse or regret. He had none. You didn't even know who you were looking at.

"What are you talking about, Will? When you want space, I give you space. When you want love, I give you love! What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave."

And then it was quiet for a moment. You both stood there silently, feet away from each other, eyes burning holes into the others.

"..What?" You stared in disbelief. "Wh- What are you saying right now, Will?"

"I want you to leave. I want you gone, Y/N. I don't need you anymore."

"No," you bit your quivering lips, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. Will averted his stare from your crying form, the floor suddenly becoming more interesting.

"No, you're lying. You're just saying that. You can fool everyone else, but you can't fool me."

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Lies. "It's best if you just leave."

You choked on a sob. "What?! Where is this coming from all of a sudden? We were okay just the other day!"

Will remained silent, still not daring to make eye contact with you.

"Is there someone else?"

"I- No, Y/N. I don't owe you an explanation."

"So this is it, then? You're just gonna kick me out?"

"Please, Y/N. Don't make this harder than it already is."

"This is hard for you?! You're not the one getting kicked out!"

Will sighed, somehow managing to remain calm while you screamed at him.

"I'm sorry." And the conversation ended there.

You began to pack your bags. You also phoned a friend, asking them if you could crash for a bit until you had a stable job and a home. You were not about to sleep on the sofa tonight.

You opened and slammed drawers, taking your anger out on furniture as you took your belongings with you. You also did it to spite Will, who attempted to get some sleep. But he did not complain. He continued to act as if you didn't exist.

It made you wonder. Where did it all go wrong? How long has he thought about leaving you? Was there another person?

Will wouldn't answer your questions. At this point, you didn't wanna know.

You were able to finish packing up within an hour. Will was still wide awake during that time, listening closely to the angry banging of furniture, quiet sniffles and shaky inhales as you tried the best you could to keep your composure.

You loaded all your bags into your car, getting ready to head to your friend's place. You went back inside to get a couple more things and look around the house a final time. You stopped by the front door as you were about to leave, your eyes landing on a picture on the windowsill of you and Will. Your already tired, red eyes welled with tears again. You opened up the frame, sliding the picture out and folding it into your pocket. Not like Will would want it in his house anyway.

And so you left.

You didn't say your goodbyes. You just left.

A week had gone by. Will carried on with his job as usual, attended his therapy sessions, but he never once mentioned you. Not a lot of people knew about you and Will's relationship, or what was once a relationship. Since his coworkers already knew so much, or what Will deemed to be enough information about him, he wanted to keep your relationship secret. Not that you minded.

The only person who knew of your relationship was Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, but even when it ended, he didn't tell them anything. He didn't tell them how guilty he felt the night he kicked you out. He didn't tell them he still had nightmares about you being harmed. He didn't tell them how he was the one harming you in his nightmares. He didn't tell them how empty he felt when you blocked his number and social medias (ok sorry but like little headcanon here?? will has an instagram and it's just pictures of him fishing / or of his dogs fnsmdnskdjsk).

He never told them how he tried not to stay in his house as often, because it reminded him of you.

He was definitely acting strange at work. It was easy to tell. Even Bev pulled him aside to inquire about his health. But he continued to keep his mouth shut, until he couldn't.

Will rushed to the front door when he heard little taps on the metal screen. Secretly, he hoped it would be you. But when he opened it, there stood Alana Bloom. Will always thought Alana was beautiful. But how could anyone disagree?

Her long, dark waves that framed her perfect, slim face were never unchecked and unkempt. Makeup or none, preppy work uniforms or pajamas, she always seemed to look her best.

You even found yourself feeling small and insecure when Will invited her over for you to meet. But he assured you that she could never even compare to you. You believed it.

Alana's thin lips curled up into a soft smile. "Will. Can I come in?"

"Y-Yeah, sure." He let her in and she walked through the front door for the first time in forever.

"Jeez," she chuckled. "How long as it been?"

"Maybe too long," Will simply replied.

Alana walked around the house, scanning every detail while Will patiently trailed behind her. The dogs were playing outside, so it was just the two of them.

"Why did you decide to come over today?"

"I've been worried about you." She turned around to face Will, who stopped a few feet in front of her. "But now that I'm here in your house, I can see why you've been acting off."

"What's your diagnosis, Doctor?" Will joked, an attempt at lightening the tense air.

"Y/N. They left, haven't they?"

There it is.

Technically, Alana wasn't wrong. You did leave, but Will never clarified in what circumstance.

Will looked at the ground.

"Yeah.. Took all the photos too."

"Hey," Alana began, her finger resting under Will's chin, prompting him to look up at her. "You don't have to hide from me."

A week had gone by. A long, lonely, miserable week. You crashed at your friend's for two nights before your parents invited you to live with them while you worked on getting back on your feet. They didn't live too far, so you thanked your friend for their hospitality and moved in with your parents.

As you finished unpacking your stuff, you realized you were missing some things. You cursed at the realization you would probably have to pick up some stuff from Will's.

You still had the key, so you would have no problem getting in, unless he had the lock changed of course. You were only worried about running into him.

What the hell?

You got dressed. You didn't wear anything fancy, but in case you ran into Will, you felt obligated to look presentable and show him that you could still make it without him. You decided on doing a bit of makeup. Again, nothing fancy. Just enough to conceal the dark circles under your eyes and make your features pop.

And then you headed on the dreadful drive to Will's place.

When you got there, you were too nervous and too focused on making the trip quick to even notice Alana's car in his driveway.

However, what did catch your attention, were the many dogs Will owned. They ran up to you as soon as they recognized you. They panted as they jumped and wagged their tails, expressing their happiness the most they could. You tried your best to pet them all, your mouth lifting up into a smile. You didn't realize it but you really missed the dogs.

You dug around for the key in your pocket and pulled it out, quietly unlocking the front door and letting yourself in.

"You don't have the hide from me.."

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the sound of a female voice.

When you walked into the living room, you were horrified to see Will with another woman. Alana.

Their lips were locked, engaging in a passionate kiss, not even noticing your presence. You felt sick as you put the pieces together.

"Now I know why you kicked me out," you whispered, half to yourself and half to Will, who almost about pushed Alana off him at the sound of your voice.

Both their cheeks heated up in embarrassment when their eyes fell on you.

"Y/N! I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"Look, I only came to pick up some stuff. Then I'll be out of your way." You didn't once look away from Will, deciding to totally disregard Alana's presence and apologetic mutters.

With that, you rushed out of the living room and into your bedroom, searching under the bed and in the closet for your missing items.

You heard faint talking from the living room but tuned out most of it, deciding it wasn't worth your time or even your business in the first place. Then you heard the front door shut and a car start from outside.

Before you could process what might've happened, you heard Will's footsteps stop outside the bedroom.

"Y/N, we should talk."

"No, we shouldn't."

"You blocked my number."

"What good would it do if I kept it?"

"Please, hear me out."

Disgruntled, you turned to face Will, sending a cold glare his way.

"Look, unless you found a way to make a time machine and give me back the time I wasted on you, I don't want to speak with you."

"Why won't you just listen to me?!" he snapped.

You scoffed, "Well surprise, douchebag, I have feelings and you hurt them!"

"Well, I'm sorry, alright?" he calmed down now.

"Are you? Really?" You shook your head. "A sorry won't fix this, Will. Not after what you did. Gods- I can't even look at you right now."

You laughed. "You know what fucking sucks? After all you did, after the cheating and the lies, I'm still in love with you."

Will teared up. "I was never with Alana, Y/N. It's always been you."

"Then, why, Will? Why did you throw me out so coldly like that?"

"I began to have dreams, Y/N. Nightmares," Will admitted, his voice beginning to break. "Nightmares about people hurting you. Criminals. It was too real. As much as I loved- As much as I love you, I never wanted you to choose me. I don't want people using you as a weapon against me. To hurt me."

You slowly walked towards Will, stopping a foot away from him. You looked up into his glossy bambi eyes as he spoke.

"It was when the nightmares got worse, when I was the one hurting you, that I realized you weren't safe with me."

You cried. "Oh, Will. I wish you had told me."

"I couldn't. I didn't want you to remember me that way."

You laughed. "Well, I ended up remembering you as the asshole who kicked me out, instead."

Will managed to give you a smile through his tears.

He brought his hand to your shoulder, and gently lead it up your neck to the side of your face, cupping it lightly and brushing his thumb across your cheek.

"I would never hurt you, Y/N."

"I know. I know, Will. You aren't a monster for having nightmares you can't control." You brought your own hand up and placed it against Will's, leaning into his warm touch. "I'm still here. I'm alive. In your hands. And I feel safe with you."

Almost hesitantly, Will leaned in, connecting his lips to yours. His body felt tense, but when you kissed him back, you felt his worries disappear into the air.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

"Stay with me tonight?"

[peakysabrina]

Heaven

How Jeremiah met his wife, how they got married, and the story of how Isaiah was born.

TW for miscarriages, sorry!!

Jeremiah Jesus had tried to become a priest before, but because of the reasons stated above, had been pushed out of the noble calling of God. Time and time again, he had gone to the seminar, and had done what all the white boys had done, better than them, and was still rejected with a snare and everything short but a kick to the backside. Somehow, his devotion to God wasn't good enough, his oratory wasn't good enough, and him as a man wasn't enough. Every time, he knew very well why it had been: because he was black, his parents were from the Caribbean, and he didn't fit the Church of England's image of a good shepard for their sheep. The sheep, better known as citizens, weren't big on other ethnicities, and a coloured pastor could drive them away from church, and away from the brain-wash that went on inside such venerable buildings.

So Jeremiah Jesus gave up, tired of wasting his time studying the Bible and the great Classic masters of oratory, given that it was of no use. Instead, he decided it would be much better to make it on his own, to go off into the world, make his money, find a job, one that he could excel at, despite the colour of his skin, or the place of origin of his parents. The first step to make that happen was to go around to the shops, to try and find someone who would employ him, even if it was in the backrooms, or warehouses. No one agreed, so Jeremiah moved on to the farms and factories around Birmingham. There, in the small property of Jacob Steadman, he found what he was looking for: a steady position as farm hand, doing whatever was needed.

The Steadman family was composed of seven people: the father, Jacob, who was married to Lucinda; the eldest daughter, Lucy; and four younger siblings, named Jacob Jr., Alphonse (who went by Alphie), Henrietta and Julius. They had a couple more men on the property, who mostly dealt with the produce the family sold at nearby markets. The Steadmans weren't rich, but they lived comfortably, which allowed them a bit more independence, and an education for their children. The eldest one, a beautiful red-haired girl in her early twenties, was especially gifted, and wrote stories for her younger brothers and sisters, which she also illustrated with all the care in the world. She was, unfortunately, prone to bouts of coughing fits, with no apparent reason, and the fairy-tale sessions were often interrupted by these moments, much to her sadness.

"Hey. You need any help?" the same Lucy came asking, carrying a tin full of water and a plate of food. "You've been at it for hours, eh?"

"It's my job" Jeremiah replied, looking up from the car tyre he was trying to patch up, and seeing that blessed apparition, made even more welcome by the food she was holding. "I will accept some lunch, though"

"Yeah, thought so" she replied, chuckling and handing him the plate and the water. "How's it going with dad's car? That tyre's busted"

"Busted is... an understatement. You feeling better today? I heard you coughing yesterday"

"I uh... I'm better, I think, yeah" Lucy sighed, obviously not one bit better, but refusing to look weak, even in front of the help. "To be honest with you, I don't think I'll ever get any better. But that's just my opinion"

"Have you been to a doctor?" Jeremiah looked up from his plate, still chewing a bit of meat. "Nothing they can do about it?"

"I've been to a couple doctors, and none of them know what the hell is going on. Shit, sorry, shouldn't curse, you're religious" Lucy let out, apparently unaware that it hadn't been offensive, but rather funny, to hear someone so proper speaking like that.

"No problem, I'm not that religious" he assured, observing closely the process of his boss's daughter crouching, and then sitting on the ground. If he was asked, a lady sitting on the ground, talking to the coloured help would be much more scandalous than all the cursing in the world. But he liked how pratical she was, how she didn't let her obvious beauty and good manners get in the way of doing what she wanted to do. "I have a chair somewhere over there, if you want"

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks" was the quick answer, accompanied by a shrug. "I'm sorry if I kept you awake with my coughing"

"You didn't. I couldn't sleep anyway"

"Anything worrying you?" Lucy kindly asked, taking a nearby wrench and playing with it, throwing it in the air a couple of times, and catching it with precision. "Well, anything I can help you with? Even if it's just talking"

"On second thought, maybe it was your coughing" Jeremiah joked, finishing his lunch and taking a big swig of water. "No, it's nothing. I was reading, and I lost track of time"

"I know that feeling. You know what I was reading? That one author you showed me, Jane Austen. Really like her stuff" Lucy informed, dreamily looking into the distance. Truth be told, Jeremiah was terrified of her when she looked like that, terrified of the way it made him want to lunge forward and kiss her. It was unspokenly agreed between the two that whatever the thing between them was, it was friendship, and just that: friendship.

"Glad you like it, I came across some stuff of hers through a friend of mine in town" he replied, clearing his throat, and coming back to reality. "His dad knew her dad, or so he says"

"That's interesting. What about you, what were you reading?"

"Do you even need to ask?" he laughed, drinking what was left from the water. "I go back to it a couple times a year, to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Helps me keep my mind in the right place"

"Fair enough, Jimmy. No shame in that" she responded, using that name that only she was allowed to use. She didn't like the name Jeremiah for some reason, didn't like the way it sounded; but Jimmy sounded good, it suited him. Reading the Bible and losing track of time because of it also suit him, and Lucy was very aware that it was just one of the manners in which he was perfect, in which he made her fall for him.

"You've read the Bible, haven't you?"

"Might have... when I went to Sunday School. Ah, and on Sundays, they always read a bit, don't they? Can't say I remember reading it from start to finish in one go, though" she admitted, tapping her fingers on her lips as she gave the subject some thought. "I prefer novels, You know the ones, where the girls have pretty dresses, and always end up marrying the man of their dreams and living in a mansion"

"That what you want to do?"

"Pfff" Lucy let out, a strange and humorous sound that made Jeremiah laugh along. "I don't really care about dresses, and mansions are too much maintenance. As for the man of my dreams, he knows where I live, he can come get me if he wants" she added, looking down, and then up at him. Another good thing about Lucy was this: she knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. The ball was in his court, so to speak, and there was no religion that could provide an answer.

That conversation was the latest of many they had shared, and hints had been coming all along. But it was all in good fun, a bit of light flirting between friends. There had never been anything like that very particular jab, and it wasn't mistakeable for banter. So, it was time to make a decision: to stick to friendship, maintain everything as it was, and resort to reading the Holy Book to drown the noise of his very obvious attraction; or to go ahead and go get the girl he wanted. It was true: he knew where she lived, and knew which room was hers. It had to be the one which still had light coming from underneath the door. She had to be awake, and alone, for them to be able to talk through what they needed to talk through. As softly as he could, he knocked, and the door opened instantly, like she had been waiting. Knowing Lucy, she probably had been, although she would not admit to it.

"Thank God, I was starting to think you hadn't gotten my hint" Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Took you long enough"

"It wasn't an open invitation, was it? What happens if your parents come around to check on you? And what if they hear us?" Jeremiah asked in return, fully regretting what he had done. It would mean being dismissed on the spot, and he couldn't really afford to go back to his parents' house. "I can't lose my job"

"You won't, don't think about it" she guaranteed, going around Jeremiah and locking the door. "See? They can't come in"

"What does it mean, then? What do you want to do?" he asked, bearing in mind that a decision had to be made, and the sooner the better, before someone caught them.

"Do I need to know? Do you really need an answer to that?" Lucy asked, biting her lip repeatedly, obviously nervous for being put on the spot.

"If I didn't need to know where we stand, I wouldn't have come here, now would I?" Jeremiah asked, losing a bit of his cool. It was in his nature to need everything decided, and defined. The idea of puting them both at risk for nothing was annoying, to say the least. "I came here for nothing, wasn't it, Lucy?"

Her reaction was completely unexpected: instead of pouting, or retaliating, Lucy simply walked up to him, placed her hands on his neck, and pulled him down, kissing him on the lips. For good measure, she took Jeremiah's own palms and placed them on her waist, where he could feel the warmth of her skin through the cotton of the nightgown.

"Would this be considered nothing?" Lucy asked, breaking the kiss but making sure Jeremiah's hands stayed where they were. "Because if so..." she continued, taking his writs, and making his hands move to her thighs, and then up, and up, until the nightgown was over her head and on the floor. "...would this be better?"

For once, Jeremiah was speachless, and torn between looking at her face, or looking down at her body, which was wrong, but pretty damn irresistible. He didn't know whether she was aware of what she had done, but it didn't seem to be a problem when he bent over to kiss her, taking her into his arms without thinking too much about it.

After that night, things only escalated: from sex, to talks of marriage, and to a proposal, done beneath the apple trees on a warm Spring day, complete with the best ring the sparse money Jeremiah could buy. At the same time, he'd started making efforts to find a new job, whereas Lucy had gotten employment at the Birmingham library, in hopes that some day, they could tell her parents about their engagement. Once that was out of the way, they could get married, and move into their own house, living their lives, building a family, having a good existence. Luckily, there had been an opening for Bible Studies teacher, under mysterious circumstances, but that were probably connected with the imprisonment of the deacon. Hence, it was time: Lucy's parents had to know.

"Mom and dad, me and Ji... I mean, me and Jeremiah have something we need to tell you" Lucy started, getting her mother's attention, while her father kept on reading the newspaper. "We're engaged to be married"

"You're what? To... to each other?" mrs. Steadman asked, absolutely caught off guard.

"Yeah" her daughter responded, showing her mother the engagement ring.

"No"

"What?"

"I said no" mr. Steadman chimed in, lowering the paper, and looking at his daughter with the utmost disgust. "You are not marrying a coloured man, let alone a poor one"

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't think the colour of my skin has anything to do with this subject. I love your daughter, I am prepared to offer her the best life I possibly can" Jeremiah protested, forcing Lucy to take his arm, to pacify him a little.

"Look son, I have no problem with the colour of your skin, but I am not letting my daughter marry you" Jacob replied, as if he was simply commenting on the weather outside. "You have no idea how people will treat her if she marries you"

"I'm not unaware of that, dad, I know how stupid people are; I don't care about any of that, I'm prepared to deal with whatever is thrown at me. Jeremiah asked me to marry him, I said yes, and that's that. You can be by my side on my wedding day, or not. That's your call" Lucy stated, beggining to feel the burn of anger on her throat. "He's the man I want, he's the man I love, and that's that on that"

"Out" Jacob simply stated, his eyes as clear as day, pointing to the door. He didn't even raise his voice, but the message as loud: he wanted the both of them out of his house, and he wanted them to go without missing a second. As for his wife, she just lowered her head and went back to sewing, pursing her lips but saying nothing. It seemed like the only one affected by that demand was Lucy, whose eyes filled with tears, and fists clenched. "I said out, didn't you hear me? Out of my sight, both of you. And don't you dare come back"

Matter of fact, they didn't. Lucy packed her clothes and some books she'd bought with her own money, wrote a letter to her siblings explaining why she had to leave, and was out of her childhood home before dinner time. As for her fiancé, a completely distraught Jeremiah, there was not much to be said: the guilt he felt in his heart was so overwhelming he wanted to simultaneously punch Jacob Steadman and hug Lucy, to cry on her shoulder. It was her spirit that never waivered, it was her that got him out of the property her parents owned, and it was her who found them a room to rent while they saved up for an apartment or house of their own. Their landlord, Arthur Shelby, was a strange man, but his wife, named Elizabeth, was an angel, who looked after the young couple with as much care as she did her own child, a lanky, sickly-looking boy named after his father.

As for their wedding, there was not much to be said: there was the priest, the bride, the groom, and two witnesses, namely Elizabeth Shelby and her husband, who signed the paper with a disgruntled look on his face. It wasn't much of a party, but then again it didn't need to be, as Lucy and Jeremiah didn't have the means to provide one. The bride had a bouquet of wildflowers, and a simple everyday dress, but her groom was so in love it didn't matter. To Jeremiah, she was an angel, something from high heavens.

"... I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Jesus, you may kiss your bride" the pastor announced, causing both Jeremiah and Lucy to smile at each other, before chastly kissing to the sound of Elizabeth Shelby's subdued clapping, echoing off the walls of the empty church.

"Congratulations, I wish you nothing but happiness, truly" Elizabeth wished, hugging Lucy tightly and patting Jeremiah's shoulder. As for her husband, he was already outside, smoking a cigarette and probably trying to make a pass at any woman who passed by. "Now would be the time to leave your bouquet at the altar and make a wish. I'll wait outside"

"Oh, I forgot" Lucy let out, turning to the altar and trying to think of a wish. "You have anything you want to wish for?" she asked Jeremiah, who in all honesty, was just happy to be alive and married to the girl he loved.

"Not really, I'll leave the wish to you" he replied, accompanying her back to the altar, where a figure of Jesus Christ on the cross looked over them.

"Well, I wish for..." she started, a sweet smile on her features. "I wish for a happy and healthy baby. And since my husband doesn't want to make his own wish, I'll take his and ask for some te ability to carry my child safely"

"That's a good wish" Jeremiah replied, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Both of them are, really. Can't wait to have a little one with you"

"Me either. You reckon it will take long to... should we be talking about this in church, though?" Lucy laughed, putting down the simply bouquet of flowers and taking Jeremiah's hand as they exited the temple. "I feel bad now, for talking about baby-making at church"

"God doesn't care, don't worry" Jeremiah assured, as they walked over to the Shelbies, who were waiting for them. "Can't wait, though"

In the end, it did take a fair bit for a baby to make its appearance in their life. Elizabeth Shelby had four children by the time Lucy Jesus managed to carry a pregnancy to term. Her disappointments had taken its toll on the girl, who became more and more fragile as time went by. Her coughing became constant, and her body slowly started giving in. However, Lucy had gathered every bit of strength she had, and, in 1905, Isaiah was born. He was healthy, beautiful, and strong, much stronger than his mother. In due time, the little boy had to say goodbye to his father, who departed for war, and then, to his mother, who couldn't survive another miscarriage. Elizabeth Shelby and Polly Gray, her sister-in-law, raised the Jesus boy, who grew up playing with the Shelby boys, and who would, in time, become one of them.

The second part of this (focused on Isaiah) is on AO3