#you know me I see a pair of crime siblings and I fucking cry

[bibiana112]

Okay so I'm very sleepy tired but I have now watched puss in boots last wish a total of three (3) times!

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love V

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: John finishes what his brother-in-law started

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence (if it's in the movie it's here), medical stuff

Word Count: 3.7K

Masterlist

When John finally woke, he was tied up in some sort of abandoned building. Although, the scaffolding and lights indicated that maybe it was just under construction. Directly in front of him was an empty chair but flanking that was his wife, bound to another chair with tape covering he mouth. She let out a soft cry that sounded like his name upon seeing him wake. She was breathing heavily and her voice was raw. The tear tracks that stained her face did nothing to assure him that Viggo hadn’t hurt his own daughter.

“Well John,” Viggo’s voice cut through her soft sobs as he came into view. “They sure as fuck broke the mold with you,” he said, sitting down. Two guards followed him, but stopped next to Y/N’s chair. And John could see the two guards on either side of him through his peripheral vision. Viggo laughed as he continued. “You always had a certain… audacity about you, you know. I thought it’d make you a good husband to my daughter and I feared she had softened you too much when you asked to retire. But I can say you’re still very much the John Wick of old.”

“Am I?” he pressed daringly.

Viggo leaned forward as he spoke. “People don’t change. You know that. Times, they do.” He sighed before going to the thing burning in his chest. “Do you know what was in that vault? Artwork, cash, not without it’s worth. But the leverage I had over this city. Evidence, blackmail, audio, photos,” he listed. “It was fucking priceless!” he cursed, standing up in rage. “Priceless!”

“Yeah, I kind of enjoyed that,” John said softly.

Viggo let out a scathing laugh. “Yeah, I know you did.” His laugh became humorous as he got closer to John, sending a punch to his face.

Y/N let out a muffled scream in protest.

Viggo turned his scathing tongue on her now. “Shut up you brat!” he screamed. “I never should have paired you two up. You used to be so obedient, always so eager to please me. But then you two got married,” he said in disgust. “And you corrupted each other.” He turned back to John. “And then you got out by lying to yourself. Telling yourself that the past held no sway over the future. But in the end, a lot of us are rewarded for our misdeeds, which is why I’m going to take your wife.” John lunged at Viggo but his restraints and the guards held fast. “Because you decided to… unleash yourself upon me. I gifted her to you, I have every right to take her back. Fuck, I should’ve taken her back when you asked for retirement but I let you keep her. As a gesture. But then you decided to take it upon yourself to meddle in family matters.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air and echo in John’s brain. “This life follows you. It clings to you, infecting everyone close to you. We are cursed, you and I.”

“On that, we agree,” John said, cursing himself for falling in love.

Viggo sat back, shock written on his face. “Finally, common ground,” he chuckled.

“I have my grievances with you,” John began, “but my real focus is your son. Step aside and give him to me.”

“John Wick,” Viggo mused in disbelief. “Baba Yaga,” he mocked the name he was once so proud to threaten with. He stood up, signaling to his men to get ready to leave. “It was just a spat between siblings.”

“Your son tried to kill my wife!” he yelled. “When we got married you made me promise to protect her. I am because you failed! You led her unstable brother to believe that you would choose her over him and then she almost died for your mistake! And then you protected your son over her. I was just doing what you fucking asked. People keep asking if I’m back. And up until now I haven’t really had an answer. But now? Yeah, I’m thinking I’m back! So you can either hand over your son,” Viggo muttered an order in Russian before turning to leave, “…or you can die screaming alongside him!” John screamed as he stood. The guards grabbed him once again, back into his chair as he watched his wife being carried out behind her traitor father. He continued struggling as they wrapped a bag around his face, trying to suffocate him.

Just as the black started to close in on his vision, he heard the sound of a bullet whizzing. The man to his right went down, blood spattering onto the bag covering his face. The other guard immediately let go, drawing his weapon to find the threat. Marcus. But John didn’t have time to consider his old friend. He wasted no time pulling out of the chair, hands still bound and bag still on his head, body slamming the other man to the ground with so much rage, he managed to make him drop his gun. Baba Yaga pulled his zip-tied hands to the front of his body, tearing off the bag before running at the scrambling mercenary with a yell. Using his bound hands, he got the gun away from him. They began to struggle, John just needed to get his bound arms around the man’s neck. But he had the same idea and two autonomous hands allowing him to pin John to the ground easier, strangling him as he struggled to break from the man’s grasp. He managed to turn his head enough so the man’s thumb was in his mouth, biting down hard. It made the guard loose focus enough that John was able to regain the advantage. He got his zip-tied hands around the mans throat, pulling with all his might until he choked the guard out and was then able to snap his neck. Without even taking a second to catch his breath, John was using a knife from another guard to cut the zip-ties. Pocketing the knife, he ran towards the exit, hoping to catch Viggo before he left. He’d be damned if he let his wife be taken from him right under his nose like that.

On the way out, he spotted a high caliber rifle that was like shooting a mini bazooka. Grabbing it, he burst out the door just in time to see the SUV taking off. Seeing as his gunfire wouldn’t do much good from the rear, he found a route through the alleys that would let him cut them off. He ran through alleyways until he finally reached the main street. He stood in the middle of the street, taking aim at the speeding car. The fact that he couldn’t see his wife in the car gave him a little bit of peace as bullets pelted the SUV, making the driver swerve into a parked car, halting the vehicle.

John immediately had the gun pointed at Viggo. “Cool it, cool it, cool it,” he begged, his hands raised.

“Where is she?” he demanded, shooting a warning shot to the side.

“She’s in the car!” Viggo answered quickly. He reached back, only to open the door. The door flung open on account of the tilted vehicle and the fact that a person had been flung into it. Viggo’s daughter was spilled out onto the ground in a less than graceful manner on account of her bound arms and legs.

“Where’s Iosef?” John demanded next, seeing no bleeding from his wife.

“I have your word that if I tell you where he is, you’ll let me walk away?” he bargained.

“Pull the contract,” John demanded.

“Done,” Viggo agreed, seeing as he had no allies around him. “He’s kept in a safe house in Brooklyn,” Viggo answered. “434 Wallace Place. They know you’re coming.”

“Of course,” John stated, finally lowering his gun. “But it won’t matter.” He rounded Viggo, not caring where he ran off to.

He kneeled down next to his wife, pulling out the knife to cut her own zip-ties before carefully pulling off the tape on her mouth. She let out a hollow sob as she reached up to grab him, arms wrapped around his neck. He wrapped his free arm around her torso, pulling her into him and burring his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. They savored the moment as long as they could until John had to let go. He couldn’t let Viggo warn Iosef and give him the opportunity to move. “Hey,” he began softly. “I’m gonna need you to take a cab to the Continental. Don’t talk to anyone, just head up to the room and wait for me there. I have to go deal with your brother. Then we can go home,” he promised her.

She nodded in understanding, too shaken up to really form word. He helped her stand, pressing some money into her hand for the cab. Before he could take off, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. As she moved to break it, he followed, letting the kiss linger for another moment. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said before taking off towards Brooklyn.

~

Once again, Y/N found herself pacing the hotel room she had come to loathe. Although she had to commend the cleaners. You would never be able to tell that two high trained assassins had just had a fight in here the night prior. It was only when her husband opened the door that she really breathed for the first time since the attack. It was finally over. They could finally go home and put this behind them so they could continue to live the lives they had built for themselves.

John said nothing, just pulled his wife into his chest and held her tight. “It’s over,” he promised her.

“I love you so much,” she professed in response, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face. He sighed in content, having missed soft moments like this ever since their world had shattered.

“I love you too. C’mon, lets go home.”

They had never packed their bags so quickly, eager to get out of the city. Once they reached the lobby, they went to the front desk to check out. “Thank you,” John said, as he slid the key across the desk.

“Our pleasure, sir,” Charon thanked, placing a set of keys on the desk. John stared at them quizzically. “A parting gift. From management,” he explained. “Compensation for last night’s unfortunate… incident.”

John thanked the man as he took the keys. The pair stepped outside, finding a brand new Dodge Charger sitting out front. John gave the slightest smile upon seeing the new car. He turned to his wife, seeing a small smile creep onto her face as well. They stepped down towards the car, John opening the passenger door for her before rounding the car to the driver’s side. He got in, taking in the car before putting it in drive. Before taking off though, he snaked his hand over to the passenger side, grasping his wife’s hand. “We just have one stop to make before we go home.”

The pair stood looking over the water, right next to the Manhattan bridge. “So what are we waiting for?”

“That would be me,” Marcus’ voice answered her. “Hi Y/N, I don’t think we’ve formally met,” the man smiled, extending her hand. She took it, shaking it as she sent a glance to her husband. *Who was this man? “*I’m the one whose been saving your husband’s ass.”

“I appreciate it,” John chuckled.

“Of course,” Marcus dismissed. “You look terrible,” he remarked, earning a laugh from Y/N.

John sent a teasing glance to his wife. “No, I look retired,” he corrected.

“Retired? You really believe that?” John didn’t answer. “You made a new life. You’ll find your way back to it. It’s time to go home,” he said, slightly ominously. “It was nice to finally meet you,” he bid, looking at his friend’s wife.

“Likewise,” she returned as he walked away. She turned back towards the river, the same as her husband. “You ready?” she asked, extending her hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking it.

~

They were enjoying a peaceful drive home in the new car when John got a call. With a quick check to caller ID, he found Marcus’ name. “This is John,” he answered.

The way John immediately stiffened as Viggo’s voice came over the phone didn’t escape his wife’s notice. She had no idea what was said, but based on her husband’s body language, she could guess who was on the other end. “I appreciate you granting my son a swift death.”

“It was more than he deserved,” John replied, remembering how Iosef had tried to just beat a woman to death.

“And yet you granted him mercy. Unlike what I’m going to do to Marcus. He betrayed me.”

John immediately threw down the phone, spinning the car around so fast it almost went into a tailspin. “John what the fuck!”

“Viggo has Marcus,” he explained, pressing the car to it’s top speed as he raced back into the city. “He couldn’t kill me and he couldn’t kill you. So he’s killing Marcus.”

Her heart sunk, “Oh god,” she whispered. She knew her father did terrible things but she hadn’t really considered them when she wasn’t on the receiving end. John continued speeding through the city as she came to terms with how complicit she had been with others suffering.

When they finally pulled up to her father’s brownstone, John was immediately climbing out of the car. “Stay here,” he said gruffly. She didn’t say anything as she watched her husband go in to grieve the closest thing he had to a best friend. After a few moments John was running back to the car. Before she could assume the worst, he was hopping in and taking off. “Your father is fleeing New York,” he explained. “He practically left you to die and now he’s killed Marcus. He’s not leaving,” he swore.

Not a word was said as they raced towards the only property that Viggo owned that housed a helipad. An old loading dock that had been long forgotten. As they closed in on the two SUVs driving in the same direction, John pressed the car further. “Hold on!” he warned as he started side swiping the SUV until it fell down into one of the pits that used to be used to load shipping containers.

John didn’t even celebrate his victory or stop to consider that Viggo may have been in that car. He just kept driving, going after the remaining SUV. There was no shot he’d let Viggo have any chance of getting away. He kept knocking into the side of the SUV until he pulled back enough to send it into a tailspin, straight into a bollard. The SUV stopped suddenly but John was able to brake before backing up. “Get down!” he yelled, forcing his wife’s head down as he saw Viggo’s men get out of the SUV with guns.

They shot at the Charger, shattering the back windshield but that didn’t dissuade The Boogeyman in the slightest. He continued backing up until he hit the gunman who went rolling over the car. As he went, John shot up into the ceiling, sending bullets into the man as he rolled off the car. John then shot three more men out of the window, in the process leaning over to his wife’s seat to recline it all the way back. “Lay down flat,” he told her. Given that he was the world’s deadliest assassin, she didn’t question his judgement in that moment.

As Avi fell out of the car and went running, John chased after him, cutting him off. They exchanged a few bullets before John slammed the passenger side of the car into him. It hit him with so much force he broke the window, eliciting a scared shout from the woman laying in the passenger seat, but he quickly slumped to the ground. But before John could finish him off, an incredible force came from his side.

Viggo drove his SUV straight into the Charger, not caring about his daughter or right hand man. He continued driving, gas pedal pressed to the ground as he pushed the car towards the pit. Realizing what was happening, Y/N spoke up. “Out the back windshield! Out the back windshield!” she cried as she crawled backwards. Fortunately John knew what she meant because he also released his seat, crawling out with her and hitting the ground before the car went over the edge.

“Are you okay?” he asked his wife as the rain poured down on them.

“Yeah,” she choked out, the fall knocking the wind out of her. “He’s over there,” she coughed, spying her father heading towards the helicopter. “Go. I’m fine.” She too wanted revenge for all the bullshit he put her husband through.

John took off running towards his father-in-law as she stayed to catch her breath. Climbing into the mostly intact SUV, she clambered around for a gun. She searched frustratedly. There was no way there weren’t at least twenty hidden weapons in a mob boss’ car. She rejoiced as she found one taped under the passenger seat, climbing out of the car just in time to see both John and her father take a seat. Both of them exhausted and heavily injured. She could see them talking but she didn’t give a fuck whatever deal they were making. Her father had only done one good thing for her and that was arrange her marriage to John. And he still tried to use that gift against her until he couldn’t and he decided to kill him. So she took aim, steadying herself before pulling the trigger. Headshot. And this time, she didn’t feel bad about it.

“John!” she called, running over to him. She was terrified he’d succumb to his wounds right there. She stopped running for a brief moment when he stood, so relieved to see him up. She continued sprinting towards him, meeting him gently. She didn’t want to hurt him more but he grasped her wrist, pulling her into him. “You’re okay,” she assured him. “We’re gonna be okay. C’mon,” she said, throwing his arm around his shoulder in order to help him back to the car. Based on the amount of weight he placed on her, he really needed it. She helped him into the passenger side of the beat up SUV. Fortunately the passenger side door was still intact. “We’re going to the hospital,” she told him, getting into the driver’s seat.

“No,” he immediately protested.

“John! You’re hurt.”

“There’s a veterinary hospital just a few blocks south. No one is there at night. We can use their medical supplies.”

“John…” she protested reluctantly, terrified for her husband but heading south anyways.

“I used to go there if I got injured before I retired. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he tried to reassure.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly.

She followed John’s directions until they reached what looked like an abandoned building. The only indication that it was even somewhat in use was the sound of all the dogs barking. John broke through the back door’s window, reaching down to open the door, letting himself in. They went in and Y/N was immediately pushing John to lean against the stainless steel table in the middle of the room. “What do you need?” she asked, going to the medical supplies.

“Gauze, suture kit or staple gun, and something to clean the wound,” he answered, already crouching in from of a pitbull’s cage.

She grabbed everything he needed, going over to him. “Lean back,” she directed him. She kneeled on the ground next to him as she worked as fast as possible. “I still think you should go to the hospital,” she said disapprovingly.

“I’d been through worse before I met you,” he confessed.

“I don’t know how it gets worse than this,” she said, stitching up every major wound she found.

“This dog is gonna be euthanized,” he said, reading the file on the dogs cage. His wife paused only long enough to look at the dog. He pawed at the cage upon meeting her gaze, his big eyes immediately melting her heart.

“We can take him with us when we’re done. But you have to promise me you’ll let me call the doctor to check you out as soon as we’re home.”

“I will,” he swore.

“Was this all an elaborate scheme to make me let you get a dog?” she pressed, only mildly jokingly.

“That was part of it,” John returned the joke.

A small smile crept onto her face as she paused her work once again to look at her husband. “I love you. So much. Please don’t do anything dangerous ever again.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled. “I love you too. I can’t move so you’re gonna have to come here.” She giggled slightly, scooching over to him. Once she got close enough, John grabbed her shirt, bringing her down to meet his lips as he gave her a sweet kiss. Just like on their wedding day except now they weren’t strangers. They had been through more together than they had thought a couple could go through. “I love you,” he repeated, only parting their lips enough to say that.

Masterlist

[zaizaizain]

you seem to be as crazy about shaman king as I am so I'm curious. thoughts on the sequel manga? I don't think I've met two people with the same opinions on them yet

personally I'm in the "these are fun and red crimson is brilliant" camp

OMG YAY I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME THESE KINDS OF STUFF but I'll try to answer it AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Shaman King: Well the real ending was kinda of unexpected. I mean...Ren marrying Iron Maiden (What an unexpected pairing), And how Hana was fucking showed up so unexpectedly and more shit AND IT IS KINDA CONFUSING (Don't ask why this is what I think) But I usually prefer the 2001 Shaman King ending where they actually defeated Hao and Their still young and all blah blah blah. But let's be honest here, The Shaman King 2001 ending was better than the real ending. Well, it's not that bad, but the Real ending was not it, for me. I don't know what you all think about the real ending but for me, This is my opinion.

Extra opinion:

Shaman King Red Crimson: PLEASE DO NOT ATTACK ME RENMEI SHIPPERS I kinda like renmei. I just need a backstory of how they met and how they got together. I'm sitting my lonely hororen ass in their wedding, Holding a pic of Ren and Horohoro, breaking up, and crying my ass off. BUT I SWEAR JUST ONE BACKSTORY OF HOW THEY MET AGAIN. And the part where Horohoro finally sees Ren, He should've hugged him but instead, he just punches him :/ But I think that's how Horohoro shows his love to Ren of how much he misses him <333 (My delusional ass is so annoying please help) But for some reason, I think Ren needs to move on from Jeanne and just let her rest in peace (I'm not saying that I hate Jeanne SHE'S MY SILLY GIRL HOW COULD I HATE HER) Because why would want your dead wife go back to life again??? Like bro...Just let her rest in peace (you still have Horohoro🙂🥰) AND BRO THE FACT THAT JUN AND HOROHORO ARE LIKE PARTNERS IN CRIME (i don't ship them) THEIR LIKE SIBLINGS WHEN IT COMES TO THE FIGHTS I JUST LOVE THE TWIST (And yeah I agree of how Shaman king Red Crimson was brilliant)

[scvrllet]

If you're still doing these, could I get a 🎫 concert ticket for Harry Potter and Once Upon A Time?

Glad to have found your blog!!!

I'm Lucifer, but people call me Luci or Luce, I'm 21 (22 in September), I identifiy somewhere around the nonbinary category, but I see gender as something trivial. I'm a panromantic demisexual and prefer they/her pronouns. 6'3 tall, long wavy blonde hair, black eyes. I wear glasses and usually skirts with old band t-shirts (that I actually listen to).

I always have a bunch or rings around my fingers as well as multiple ear piercings. I'm super pale, to the point that people often ask me if I'm sick.

I'm introverted, but I can be a social butterfly if required. I love listening as much as talking. I never really talk about emotions/feelings but anything else I'mhappy to chat about. I don't really react to things apart from my facial expressions. The lift of an brow, a smirk or an eye-roll will let you know how I feel about things without verbal confirmation. I'm always calm and collected, and my voice stays monotonous no matter what ; I don't stutter, yell or scream.

I'm highly intelligent and very sarcastic, and rarely laugh outloud, but smirk a lot. I might come across as rude and blunt but on the inside I am a softie, just don't show it often.

I love literature (especially classic), arts and learning languages (I currently speak 18). I'm also musically very inclined. I study History and mythology. When it comes to hobbies, I read and collect lots of things things such as lighters, tarot cards, night lights, rocks/crystals and books.

I have four siblings and am the oldest, but I don't really keep in touch with my family that much. I have a few good friends (2 or 3) and I don't even really need much more.

I'm a Virgo, Slytherin and INTJ-A if that tells you anything.

I'm not athletic in the least, but am in good shape. My body is an hourglass figure and I also got a bunch of tattoos.

I have a bad habit of smoking, and usually having a glass of scotch or wine with me (but I never get drunk or even tipsy). I love spending time near water, but hate getting wet. I usually take long walks outside after midnight while listening to creepypastas or true crime podcasts. I love the genre horror overall, yet I rarely get scared. The only thing I'm scared of is being scared if something. And Santa Claus (<-- no idea as to why).

If I were to go on an ideal date, it'd hopefully be something original and not the cheese classics, but I wouldn't mind them either. I just want to experience new things.

I don't really celebrate holidays (e.g. Christmas, Ester) since I was raised in an atheist/witchcraft household.

If I still might add something, when it comes to relationships I'm never overly dramatic. I don't, as previosuly mentioned, yell or really even cry. I don't get frustrated or suspicious easily. If I see any inclination that my partner might be e.g. cheating on me, I ask them about it directly and will absolutely under no circumstanses go through their phone, computer or start stalking them. 

You wanted 3 random things, here :

1. I can't cook shit, I have set spaghetti on fire, cracked a pan in half and blown up a microwave.

2. I'm very unpredictable, but at the same time I like to stick to certain routines etc.

3. I've had my hair dyed more times that I can count with more colors than I know how to name.

Uhhh, I think that's all? I hope you have a good day :)

(🎫) CONCERT TICKETS - get a platonic or romantic ship/match-up from the fandom of your choice (max. two) along with a shirt headcanon

JOIN MY 4K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

I ship you with....

Peter Pan

- Arriving on Neverland, in hindsight, was a mistake. Magic beans while very reliable were prone to mistakes every so often and so instead of appearing in the Enchanted Forest, you were on the beach of a large island. And what was the most odd of all, was not the strange feeling you felt upon arriving on the island, but the pair of eyes you could practically feel staring at you from the trees. Hoping that it was just an animal of some sort, you walked off the beach and headed to the path through the forest.

- Unfortunately for you, the feeling lingered, following you almost as you walked through the forest. Tall trees lined the path and every once in awhile you’d see some small animals scurry away. What seemed to stand out the most however were the silhouettes standing off in the side, deep within the trees but standing right below the sunlight for you to see clearly. There was four, than five, than six than......only one. Looking at your surroundings, you saw your footprints in the ground before you and it hit you. You’d been walking in circles the whole time and the silhouette was still there.

“Hello?” You called out, not sure as to whether or not the silhouette really was there.

Without a verbal response, the figure disappeared only to reappear a few feet in front of you.

You jumped back in shock but quickly regained your balance as you studied the person before you. It was a boy, looking to be around your age, with a questioning look on his face as he looked at you. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked you first!”

“And I’m in charge of this island!”

“You? In charge of an island? What is this Neverland?” You rolled your eyes at the possibility. Neverland was a place made up so that kids could fall asleep. Not a real place that you could visit.

“Yes it is, and I run things around here so tell me, who are you.” The boy replied, emphasizing his last three words as he spoke.

“As if, what’s next? You call your little Lost Boys to come prove to me?” You scoffed. To believe that you were on Neverland was already too much and all you wanted was to get home to the Enchanted Forest but it seems you’re stuck playing pretend with a boy who doesn’t want to grow up. A shame really

Smirking, the boy simply pressed two fingers to your forehead and before you could even say something, your mind went foggy and your vision was filled with black.

- To say you got off on a rough start was an understatement. The two of you were constantly at each other’s neck while he kept you on the island, the camp specifically, and didn’t let you leave due to belief that you were a spy of some sorts. Not that he had anything to hide. Not yet at least.

- As time went on however, the two of you had begun to form a friendship. It wasn’t anything big or odd, but it was definitely new. He’d be less of an ass to you and let you explore the island on your own (with some exception).

- Upon finding your out about your hobbies, he would discreetly try to surprise you with materials to help you engage in them even if Neverland’s magic still had some restrictions. He would still try to the best of his abilities.

I also ship you with....

Blaise Zabini

- Losing was one thing Blaise never took lightly. Competitive he was but even with his ambition and skill, it was the mundane things that revolved around luck that often made him lose. Like the stupid bet he made with Theo on whether Gryffindor would win or lose where the loser would have to make a full four course meal complete with drinks for all the Slytherins in their year. Unfortunately for him, he had lost unlike Gryffindor and now here he was, spending his Saturday afternoon in the kitchens and a cookbook Pansy had given him “to help”.

- Blaise didn’t know what he’d see upon entering kitchen. He was sure to see a few House Elves, perhaps he could ask them for help, but what he didn’t except was to see you standing in front of the stove with a pot spilt cleanly in half somehow and a fire burning below. And to make matters worst, you were simply standing there as if you had been frozen.

“Hey watch out!” He called out as a flame went up towards you. Pushing you out the way just in time, he managed to save you from the burn in return of him getting burned.

“Fuck.” He hissed out in pain. Gripping his arm as he put out the fire with his wand before dropping it on the ground.

Without a word, you simply grabbed your wand and waved it above his burn. You seemed to be muttering something, a spell of some sort, as a cooling sensation covered his wound. Looking down, he was shocked to see that the burn was actually healing.

“How, how did you.... Thank you.”

“I was practicing a charm, fire control, but thank you for the concern.”

Feeling sheepish for thinking that you didn’t have it under control, he ended up excusing himself from the kitchen to head back to his dorm where his friends immediately pounced on the chance to tease him for a variety of reasons.

- The next day, instead of going to Hogsmeade with his friends, Blaise stayed back at the castle to catch up on a paper he had failed to submit on time. Deciding on going to the library, sh was disappointed to see that almost all of the tables were taken. All but one in the far back corner. Quickly heading towards it, a sigh left his lips as someone dropping their book bag into the table beat him to the table: you.

“Oh did you need the table? I can leave if you’d like?”“ You said upon noticing him standing in front of the table.

“No, no it’s alright I just uh, planned on finishing a paper for Flitwick’s class.” He admitted.

“You can have a seat if you’d like, I’ll just be doing my own work and you can do yours.” You kindly offered and Blaise gladly accepted. He really need to finish this paper or else he’s be kicked off the Quidditch team so while he didn’t get the complete privacy he originally wanted, he’s fine with this.

As the two of you worked in quiet, occasionally Blaise would sneak glances your way which you ended up catching once.

“Hi.” was all you managed to muster out as you tried to contain the wide smile that wanted yo grow on your face.

Trying his best to not chuckle at your slightly flustered state, he mirrored your smile as he replied with a “Hello.”

[stubbychaos]

The First Time He Sees Her

A one-shot for Saviin’ika

This goes hand-in-hand with chapter 1 of Saviin’ika, for those who might not have read it yet

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz sees his nurse before he meets her for the first time and is stunned by her selflessness and beauty.

Rating: T for language (there are a couple F-bombs bc Paz has a sailor’s mouth tbh) and the tiniest bit of violence since Paz is injured.

Word Count: 3,000ish

Warnings: Unless you count tooth-rotting fluff and Paz absolutely crushing on his little nurse, there are no warnings!! There’s mentions of Paz’s injury from the first chapter, but nothing too descriptive!

A/N: Thank you to the anon who sent that super sweet ask about me writing from Paz’s POV. I’m not sure if this will meet your expectations, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!! I actually had a lot of fun writing this much fluff after writing all the angst for the newest chapter. I might do some more of these if you guys are interested in certain parts of the story?? <3

The first time Paz sees you, you’re smiling so brightly and it’s enough to make him freeze him from across the street where he’s found himself cemented to, his visor instantly fixated on your plush pink lips and the whites of your teeth.

You're not the one he's smiling at and for some reason that feels like the biggest crime in the galaxy--and Paz has witnessed many crimes and atrocities in his lifetime.

He’s clutching a canvas bag filled with several supplies and fresh food for his tribe as he watches you crouch down in front of a crying little boy who must have tripped and fallen, his little palms bleeding as you carefully inspect them with furrowed brows. 

Unintentionally, Paz finds himself cocking his head to the side as you shuffle through a small cross-body bag, seeming to search for something in particular and your smile widens as you pull out a little glass jar with some sort of soft purple substance in it.

A smile stretches across Paz’s lips as he watches you completely drop to your bare knees on the cracked pavement so you’re more eye-level with the child and you begin the tender task of rubbing the ointment into his minor wounds, all while reassuring him with a bright smile that everything is going to be alright. Your smile is a soft, comforting one, Paz notices as you easily cheer up the little boy with warm words, the skin at the corners of your eyes crinkling and a part of him is tempted to get a little closer to you so he can hear your voice better. It’s a breathy, lilting melody that barely reaches his ears underneath his helmet, but the sound of it comforts him and he’s not even the one who’s injured.

You’re asking the child innocent little questions to distract him--“What’s your name, sweetheart? Where are your parents? Do you have siblings or pets? What’s your favorite color? Yellow? Mine is purple but I like blue as well!”--and Paz finds your dedication to this child that you don’t even know so sweet and honorable when he’s only ever dealt with scumbags in the village.

You’re a breath of fresh air, Paz realizes with a soft grin, watching as you do everything possible to comfort the tiny boy who seems to be warming up to you, growing shy when you tenderly ruffle his messy curls before you pull some gauze out of your bag to bandage his hands. You tend to his little wounds with the utmost care, as though you’re nursing graver wounds and Paz nearly chuckles when you inform the boy he is far stronger than any soldier that you’ve ever met.

Then he notices your long, shiny mane and he melts.

Paz thinks he’s never seen such a beautiful head of hair in his entire life. The long waves tumble down the length of your spine with a healthy shine, the locks curled at the ends and he’s in absolute awe, knowing that you must have spent years growing out your beautiful mane. Then he spots little bundles of violets tucked behind each of your ears and his smile grows tenfold, not used to seeing such vibrancy in the little village that resides above the covert. 

Paz thinks you must be some sort of beacon of hope and purity in a place filled with criminals and greedy bounty hunters and his breath hitches in his throat and his heart stops beating as you remove one of the little bundles of flowers from their home behind your ear. His eyes follow your tiny hand as you pluck a flower from the bouquet and offer it to the blushing child who’s no longer crying, but instead smiling shyly at you as he happily accepts it.

The Mandalorian tenses a little when a man steps out of the building that you’re kneeling in front of on the sidewalk and he watches as the man roughly grabs you by the elbow and pulls you to your feet with no regard for your own comfort. Even with the soft smile you give the little boy as he waves goodbye to you, it no longer meets your eyes and Paz notices the way you drop your head as the aggressive man tugs you back into the building.

Paz spots the sign on the outside of the building and realizes it’s an infirmary, and that you must be some sort of doctor or medic and everything suddenly makes sense--your kindness towards the child and how you hadn’t hesitated to step outside to tend to his minor wounds.

Paz isn’t even aware there’s an infirmary in the village and he’s grateful for this new information, especially since him and so many others in the tribe are always getting injured during training and sparring. As he makes his way back to the enclave a smile still stretched along his concealed features, he hopes he will soon again see you--the pretty medic that wears bright violets in your hair.

It happens sooner than he wishes for, to be honest.

Two weeks later, Paz is storming into the infirmary that he had never known to exist before you, gripping his bloody side as he searches specifically for you and immediately, his eyes zone in on the small figure that’s hunched over in a chair at the front desk.

At first, you don’t even notice him, utterly focused on finishing whatever the hell it is you’re writing down in a big white binder, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your brows furrowed in concentration.

“You.”

Immediately, your head whips up and it takes Paz a moment to remember how to speak when your wide, expressive eyes somehow meet his; a part of him actually worries that you can somehow see him, despite his helmet. Almost instantly, your gaze lowers to his chest and he knows the look of fear all too well and dread settles deep in Paz’s chest when he realizes that you’re afraid of him.

His voice is strained as he tries to ignore the intense pain flaring like hot coals in both sides of his ribs, “I need medical attention... please.”

“Oh! Okay,” You quickly stand up, still refusing to look at his helmet and you tuck a non-existent lock of hair behind your ear--it must be a nervous habit, Paz realizes and manages to smile a little at your awkwardness, actually forgetting that you can’t even see him, “I think there might be someone who can--”

“No!” Paz hisses through clenched teeth, his ribs aching fiercely and he has to force himself to lower his voice to something softer so he won’t frighten you when he notices how badly you flinch at the sound of his deep voice, “I want you to tend to my wounds.”

Paz watches the way your nostrils flare a little, the muscles in your jaw slightly shifting as you force yourself to nod and immediately, he dislikes how frightened you are of him as he stalks past you and into the slim hallway and he realizes he’s already ruined your first impression of him. Angrily, he struggles to remove his heavy equipment as you quietly usher him into your little office. He’s a little surprised to find your desk and the window sill decorated with well-cared for flowers and plants, the vibrant flora seeming so out of place in such a bleak village, though it still comforts him for some reason.

“W-Would you like some help sir?”

Your voice--so quiet and so fucking sweet--is filled with such hesitation and is still just as much of a melody as he remembers it to be from the first time he’d seen you tending to that child.

Immediately, he turns to you and curses the Maker because you look so frightened by his appearance, your tiny hands wringing together nervously and he forces himself to relax and drop his guarded facade when you offer to help him remove his armor. Paz is grateful when you bravely step forward to remove his cuirass, taking great care and caution as you fiddle with the latches with small, skilled hands. He’s surprised that you somehow manage to figure out how to remove his chest plate and he nearly laughs through the pain when you fumble with the weight of his Beskar cradled in your small arms as you carry it to your desk. 

He remains complacent as you return to help him remove all of his extra armor and padding, though he has to force himself not to grunt when you help him untuck his tunics from the waistband of his pants. You’re asking him questions about his injuries and what he was stabbed with--your voice that same soft melody--and he wants to apologize for being an asshole after rudely answering your gentle questions, but all he can focus on are your small hands and how cold they are against his warm skin and how he’s not fucking used to being treated so delicately.

He’s being an absolute asshole towards you and he loathes that you’re clearly growing more frustrated with him with every sarcastic sentence he offers you, but all he can focus on is how he can feel your tepid puffs of breath hitting his bare skin as you stitch his wounds, your pretty face only inches away from his stomach. You’re mumbling something about how lucky he is that the stab wound isn’t deep and the thought of him being stabbed and body-slammed by another Mandalorian makes him ‘lucky’ nearly has him laughing.

He decides not to mention that he had initially been distracted by the pretty village nurse and your pretty flowers during the middle of an intense sparring match and he makes some sort of sardonic remark before he can stop himself. He’s muttering some nonsense of how you should be used to violence and gore, what with being a doctor, but you’re quick to correct him and Paz admires the irritation in your small voice.

He thinks that he must not be the first to judge you and what you must have been through.

“I’m a nurse, actually. The infirmary only has one doctor and he barely works here since he’s always traveling,” You correct him, eyes trained on the way the curved hook of the needle pierces his skin, nylon thread bringing the torn flesh back together, and Paz feels sorry when he notices the exhaustion evident in your hushed voice, “Sorry if you expected to be treated by an actual doctor when you stormed into the the infirmary asking for my help. There’s not really a huge need for medical professionals in the village–most people are dead before they even make it here.”

Paz is surprised by the bleakness in your soft voice and how you almost seem to put yourself down for only being a nurse, as if your job is somehow not important and he remembers how kindly you had treated the little boy’s extremely minor wounds with such tender care. It seems unfair that someone with such a kind, tender heart could feel such insecurities, but he thinks you must not be used to being treated with respect.

“Why did you ask for me?”

The question throws Paz off guard and he struggles to form a coherent response when he feels the curved hook of a sterile needle piercing his bloody flesh. Paz wants to tell you that he’d seen you comforting that distraught child just a couple weeks ago--that he’d witnessed you tending to the tiniest of scrapes on the boy’s hands that really didn’t even require medical attention. He wants to tell you that he wants one of the little violets that’s tucked behind your ear, but he knows it would sound ridiculous and perhaps childish, so he responds with:

“You were the only one that actually looked competent.”

You still wear an intense expression of confliction, but you nod slowly and Paz is grateful when you continue to stitch up his wounds with great precision and grace, your fingers moving so fluidly like water against his bloodied flesh. He knows he’s only making everything worse for himself when you kindly and nervously ask him to stop fidgeting around so much, but the soft feeling of your fingers brushing against his skin every now and then is too much and he--

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

The way he says it is so fucking rude and he knows it and cringes the second he sees the expression of disappointment and distaste among your lovely features, you eyes barely glancing up at him through the lenses of your big glasses. You must be so used to cruelty from others and he sees it in the way you shake your head a little as you finish his stitches, or how your eyes momentarily dart up to his helmet and hands, as if confirming you’re not going to be struck or beaten by him.

Then your hands are on Paz’s tender ribs and he nearly jumps right off the cot at how soft and delicately you are pressing your hand against his damaged torso, like he’s made of the most fragile glass and not of impenetrable Beskar. Suddenly, you’re standing up, rambling something about a bacta salve that you made yourself and Paz is quick in his attempts to stop you, feeling utterly undeserving of such medical care after he already antagonized you enough, though you don’t pay attention and he watches as you makes your way to your desk.

He sits up a little higher when he notices you struggling to reach the top shelf that’s connected to your desk and how you have to stand on your tippy toes to reach for a big jar that’s filled with a bright blue substance. He’s nearly halfway off the cot to help you, but your fingers gently curl around the glass jar before you’re approaching him once again. There’s a tiny smile tugging at your lips from the mere thought of relieving the ache in his ribs and Paz is quick to catch your wrist before your bacta-clad fingers can touch the side of his stomach.

“I don’t want your pity.”

Your voice is more confident when you speak and Paz grows warm at how willing you are to argue with him, “It is not pity, Mandalorian.”

You smile sweetly at him, a gentle expression that immediately has him loosening his grip around your tiny wrist, “Then what is it?”

“Kindness.”

Paz stares at you, absolutely stunned as he drops your wrist and lets you tend to his bruised ribs with the softest pressure possible. He tilts his helmet to stare up at you and wonders how something so sweet and soft has lasted this long in such a cruel village. He feels the soft pressure of your cold fingers against his ribs and smiles underneath his helmet, though it’s a sad one as he thinks of all the ungrateful patients you must get on a daily-basis and he longs to tell you that he’s grateful for your tender touch,

Instead, his mouth grows dry and he remains silent as you finish tending to his wounds and it’s not until you silently offer him the little jar of bacta salve that he shows his gratitude with a sharp nod and a tiny ‘thank you’. Paz feels awful for not having credits to give the sweet nurse, but he figures that money is something you do not care much for and simply accepts the precious gift without another word. He thinks of your selflessness with the little boy from the other day as you kindly escort him out of your office and briefly wonders if you’re just this genuinely sweet with everyone you meet.

As Paz leaves your office, utterly aware of you sheepishly following him, he’s half attempted to give you some sort of payment for your hard work and dedication to your job, but before he can even reach into his pouch, an angry voice is calling out your name.

“I thought I told you to have those reports done today by sundown and it’s almost kriffing midnight. I’m tired of telling you how to do your job! Am I not punishing you hard enough? Is that why you’re too stupid to understand how to do something as fucking basic as filing reports?”

Paz instantly sees the way your head lowers in shame as the same man who had forced you back into the infirmary weeks ago antagonizes you and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his fingers are wrapped around the handle of his vibroblade, ready to kill the man if he chooses to harm you severely. The Mandalorian doesn’t like the way this man berates you--how he refers to the sweet nurse as pathetic and incompetent and his heart aches in his chest when he hears how defeated and broken you suddenly sound as you attempt to apologize.

After being told to leave the infirmary, you quickly turn around and Paz is just as surprised as you are as the two of you face each other. Your eyes are fixated on the firm grip he has on his vibroblade and it takes Paz a moment to realize that the poor nurse is not only afraid of that cruel man, but him as well. Slowly, Paz removes his hand from the handle of his blade and watches sadly as you quickly skitter past him, clearly terrified of what cruel men were capable of and he feels it deep within his chest as he watches you quickly make your way down the rocky sidewalk.

“Nurse.”

Paz barely speaks, but it’s enough for you to freeze in your tracks, not uttering a single word as he slowly approaches you. Your shoulders are practically touching your earlobes with how tense you are and shame fills his entire being when he realizes just how terrified you are of him--just how much pain you must have endured if you’re this afraid.

A tear slowly slides down your cheek and...

Maker, what have you been through to feel such intense fear? Could they really beat down someone so precious and innocent to the point where you fear that everyone wishes to harm you?

“It’s too late and dangerous to be walking alone. I’m going to walk you home.”

Paz reaches out to grab your small elbow, but you quickly back away with an intense flinch and he fears that you’ve somehow decided to mistrust everyone you meet. Against his better judgment, he offers you his beloved vibroblade, giving you the option to stab him if you start to feel threatened at any point during the walk home and finally, your beautiful eyes meet his through the protection of his visor.

Paz stares at the beautiful flowers tucked behind your ears with reverence as you question him in a small, timid voice, “Haven’t you uh, been stabbed enough for one day?”

Before he can even attempt to stop himself, the Mandalorian finds himself laughing at your innocent question and nods a little, “Yes, I think I have. Now, let’s get going.”

You offer him the tiniest smile, something only slightly similar to what you’d given the little boy from weeks ago, but Paz is willing to accept anything at this point, even if it’s a ghost of a smile from his tiny nurse.

His heart swells when your fingers eventually curl into the crook of his elbow and he can feel the soft pressure against his skin as you allow him to walk you home.

Paz quickly decides that your company is just as lovely as your warm smile.

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok​ @haloangel391​

[prose-for-hire]

Smile, though your heart is breaking

Pairing: Bi!Cordelia Chase x fem!reader; Xander Harris x Cordelia Chase; Xander x fem!reader (familial/platonic)

Request: hi! i already requested some cordy x reader but i have another idea, if i may! could i have a fic where reader is Xander’s sister, and she walks in on them kissing. reader has a crush on cordy and xander knows this. cue angst and sibling fights 😭!

Requested by: Anon

You had a crush on Cordy. You had played it off as silly and fleeting at first, but as you became closer friends it grew.

She was the reason you realised that you liked women. Discovered and began to love yourself and your sexuality. She was such a gift to you and yet she never knew.

A while after, you told Xander about your sexuality. He was shocked, struggling to comprehend it but he held you in a hug. Showing you that you would always be his sister, even if he was still coming to terms with your news himself.

Eventually you came out to the others. Everyone except Cordy. You weren’t prepared for her not to want to be your friend anymore. You were scared of the rejection. You adored her so much, you were happy with platonic so long as you could be close with her.

The others supported you and those that were unsure at first slowly got more used to it. They loved you, you were such a good friend, a big part of your close-knit little group. Things were going well.

Months later, as you sat on the bleachers with Xander and your friends watching a school football game, he turned to look at you and saw you staring at the cheerleaders.

“Stare much?” He muttered.

“I was trying to, um, pick up the routine” You offered, smiling at him.

“Oh yeah, ‘course. You’re so gay, y/n” He joked, showing how far he had come. How much more comfortable he was with you. He was the only one allowed to tease you though, if anyone else did he got really annoyed.

“Shut up, Xander” You shoved his shoulder and he mock-surrendered. The others all knew now and smiled along with your sibling squabbling.

When the game was over, you and your friends all walked back together. Buffy, your brother, Willow and Cordelia walked with you towards your respective homes. You were in good spirits, it was a rare night where there were no demons or anything. You could just relax and have a nice time.

You lit up when Cordy specifically moved through your little crowd to walk beside you. You giggled together and she gave you one of her pom-poms to hold as you walked almost completely in-step. She spoke to you a lot nicer than she did with anyone else, you were probably the one Scooby that could claim that you were genuinely good friends with her.

She offered you a lift back home in her car that she had parked a few blocks away because so many people were parked in the usual lot. You declined, starting to get nervous that she would find you really lame. Not to mention Xander would have to come too and they just got into a insult-slinging contest when they were both together.

Cordy looked a little disappointed but shrugged and waved goodbye before getting into her car. You regretted it instantly. You could have given Xander the code and told him to walk, but he probably would have insisted to come in the car just to annoy you.

You watched her drive away before you realised that she had left you with the pompom and you smiled down at it. It was like she trusted you. You had a piece of her to take home with you. You smiled the entire way home and Xander thought you had gone mad. Later in the evening, you decided to admit that you were crushing on her. Really hard.

“I think I’m in love” You whispered to Xander, in case anyone else was in the house and could hear through walls. You were both brushing your teeth, a little tradition you had left over from when you were growing up. You used to do everything together.

“Oh yeah? Poor girl” Your brother teased. You rolled your eyes and spat into the basin.

“I’m being serious! I wanna hold her hand and touch her face and-” you started to stare dreamily off into the distance before he interrupted.

“Please say somethin’ normal like have sex with her”

“I want to cherish her, hold her! Tell her that I love her” You frowned at him for being crude. You wanted a love story with her, she was so special to you.

“Who is she then?” Xander asked while the toothbrush was still in his mouth.

“Cordelia” You smiled.

“Not the devil in designer boots!” he was genuinely surprised at this.

“She’s not like that!” You insisted and he gave you a look before you left him to go to bed. He continued to tease you mercilessly about it for the rest of the week. You wished you hadn’t said anything, Xander had never really been a fan of Cordelia.

Although, what you didn’t realise was that somewhere after you had revealed your crush on Cordy, Xander and her had started to steamily make-out in secret. Whenever they got the chance. Today, it had been in a deserted art classroom.

You had been sent there to steal some paper for Giles for the library. There was an inter-department free-for-all on paper and Giles was currently losing the battle.

You opened the door, your intuition giving you a bad feeling. But you walked in anyway. Just in time to see your brother sticking his tongue down Cordy’s throat.

“Oh” Was all you said before you backed away, slammed the door and ran. Tears blurred your eyes as you sprinted, letting your legs take you as far away as you could.

The pair sprung apart immediately. They walked around everywhere looking for you. They squabbled and almost bit each other’s heads off over it. Neither of them had ever wanted you to see that, for very different reasons.

Eventually, when they had stopped an entire football practice by shouting at each other in the middle of the pitch they decided it was better if they split up and looked for you.

Xander found you in the late afternoon, sobbing into a book. You had made your way back to the library after hiding in the bathrooms for most of the day.

You had decided to cry in a change of scenery. Giles had insisted you really didn’t need to be there researching but you said you wanted to help. Or, he thought that’s what you said he couldn’t really hear over all the crying noises.

You were heartbroken. Twice over.

Giles had tried twice to take the book you were leaning over, he wanted to save the pages from water damage. But you had insisted on helping and he didn’t want to make you cry harder. He had retired in his little adjoining office. Crying made him uncomfortable and he was fond of you which made him feel worse for you.

“Y/n! God, I’ve been looking everywhere!” Xander said. As if he didn’t have a care in the world. You stood up, closing the book shut with a soggy snap. Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them, he wanted to come and give Xander a piece of his own mind once you had explained what had happened. However, as you started to speak, he knew you could handle your brother.

“You knew how I feel about her! You knew and you still-” You tried to calm yourself down, but your next sentence came out angrier and even louder, “You don’t even like each other for fuck sake!” Your voice echoed around the empty library.

“Woah, hey, y/n calm down” he said, waving both of his hands out to try and get you to be quieter. He didn’t want people to know why you were shouting. He was embarrassed. It made you feel even worse.

“Are you kidding?! Calm-?” Your temper was rising and you didn’t know if your relationship with him was going to survive this, “You know how much I like her and you just let me talk about it over and over like some idiot! All the while you were kissing her behind my back!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t even know it was that serious” Xander shrugged, but he did feel guilty. But he would have done it again, he knew it. Kissing her was fun.

He did become more guilty, especially so when Cordy had explained to him that she was bisexual and he had neglected to tell you. Which, on one hand of course it wasn’t his place but on the other he had done this for entirely selfish reasons.

“You liar! You’re so selfish Xander Harris! I hate you!” You screamed, shoving him away when he tried to rest a hand on your elbow.

You felt so betrayed. You were disappointed in him. He was supposed to be family. Your own brother. He supported you but only so long as it benefitted him. He loved you, but he still whether intentionally or not blocked you from even trying to date the woman you were interested in.

You stormed off, barely missing that you passed Cordelia in the corridor. She had heard everything. But you had tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. You needed to get out of there.

You stayed at Willow’s. You told her everything and Willow explained what she had heard from Xander. Your best friend was completely on your side.

She told you a secret that night, one you kept hidden from the others until she was ready. You bonded over the things you had been hiding. But, you weren’t so sure your affection for Cordelia was hidden anymore.

This was confirmed to you when Willow came up to her room and told you that you had a visitor. You frowned, not sure who it could be. You skipped down the stairs, having put yourself in a better mood with your best friend by your side.

But you stopped as you descended, and you swear your heart did too when you saw her standing there. The light hit her face perfectly, she was glowing. As always.

She smiled, shakily. The corners of her eyes crinkled in that way you adored when she was truly happy. But, why would she be happy to see you? After everything she had found out.

“Cor, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. Is that a crime?” She said a little more half-hearted than she usually would. She seemed almost nervous to face you.

“No, except you did once say that if you were ever seen dead in whatever frumpy bungalow that willow lived in-”

“I know what I said, I didn’t really mean it. They’re just words” She shrugged, interrupting you. She forgot half of the mean things she said sometimes.

“Okay…” You said a little awkwardly. You knew that she knew. So, you thought it better to just let her speak. It was one of her favourite hobbies, after all. A hobby you usually loved, she turned insults into an art form.

“I’m here because-” She took a deep breath, this was so important to her she couldn’t get it wrong, “Because I like women. Uh, but mostly I like you.”

“You… like me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No! I only- I know this makes me look so totally heinous but I only got close with Xander because I wanted to get close to… you”

“You got bored of one sibling and wanted to hop onto the next? I don’t think that I’m comfortable with that” You explained truthfully. It was weird to you.

It was all you had ever wanted her to say, but it was still just so alien to you at the moment. As if you were dreaming. You were ten seconds away from pinching yourself because it felt too good to be true.

“I just wanted you to know, I had nothing to lose anymore. I broke it off with him as soon as I heard what you said” She explained, referring to hearing the way you felt.

“I-I need some time” you explained, your thoughts still spinning so fast around your head that you were starting to get dizzy.

“Anything, for you” Cordy nodded her voice barely above a whisper as she opened her arms to you. You almost fainted in shock, bowling her over as you embraced her. She wrapped her arms around you, inhaling happily.

She had wanted this for so long and you never even knew. She had stolen glances when you weren’t looking. Watched you from afar and imagined detailed fantasies of being close to you. Perhaps even kissing you. She had even gotten way too close to your brother in an attempt to learn more about you. She had been lonely, it was her only explanation.

You moved from the close hug and she wasn’t able to stop herself from grinning. You wanted to trust her, but you weren’t there yet. You needed a change to sort through your own feelings.

She turned and left and you watched her go. Things weren’t great with your brother. Your friendship group was fractured. But as you watched her turn back and wave at you, you had something special starting.

It started small in the back of your mind, but it was slowly growing. Hope.

[jungcity]

𝟓𝟎𝟓.

GENRE: crime, romance, slice of life

PAIRINGS: bandit!hendery, sacristan!female reader

WORD COUNT: 27,632

SONG PROMPTS: Godless - BANKS, 505 - Arctic Monkeys, Some Unholy War - Amy Winehouse, Robbers - The 1975 | [full playlist here.]

WARNINGS: Please observe proper discretion for this story deals with themes of adultery, orphanhood, child abuse, child neglect, deaths, violence, manipulation and suggestive stuff.

NOTE: This is a part of the crime!au collaboration held by @neovisioned. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Please be aware that this story would have references that revolves around Catholicism. I am by no means wish to be exclusive to those who has the same religion as I. Upon pondering the plot of this story, religion would be a mandatory part, hence I chose mine since it is what I know best.

TAGLIST: @legendnct @cloudysuh @eyypeach @mjlkau @cherub-vivi

i. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth…

Trails of white smoke circled the candle as you snuffed out the fire from the matchsticks. The heavy rain raged on, with the branches slapping the gothic windows of Father Ben’s chamber. The priest sat on a rocking chair near the aperture, watching the thunder and lightning as they continue to battle for dominion over the heavens.

“Father,” you called out softly. He hummed but did not turn to face you. Over the months that you have worked and helped Father Ben tend to the church, you noticed how particularly silent he could be whenever the clouds are pouring. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” you asked.

For the past few days, Father Ben would tell you about shadows prowling around the church. Two boys, he claims. Sometimes they are three. Bandits, no doubt.

“Be careful on your way home, hija. Bring my umbrella so you won’t get soaked.” And that has been the last words he spoke.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. There would be no point forcing the priest. Perhaps he does not want your mother to worry about you.

You closed the door of the priest’s chamber and made your way down the creaky staircase. The church hadn’t been renovated since the middle of the pandemic that had swept across the whole world. This structure hadn’t tasted new paints and new rivets yet for ten years.

Father Ben resides where the choral sings everyday. Since Father lost all his relatives to the pandemic, he made it built for him. Perhaps that was the reason why he was too quiet. You haven’t lost anyone to it, but you knew a lot of people who died because of it and have friends who had lost their fathers and mothers, even siblings, to it.

You fastened the latch of every door inside the church before you walked towards the main door. Laying the lamp on the floor, you unlatched the wooden door. The blustery and frigid wind flows through the opening, misting your feet and right arm as you leaned to grab the lamp and struggle to open the umbrella.

By good fortune, the rain softened as you departed the church. Bougainvilleas wrapping the façade of the structure made eerie shadows as the moon casted down its light to it. You made your way to the small village you live in.

“Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy…” echoes the praying mothers and daughters in front of their altars.

You cannot not help but be fascinated by the orange lamp lights in their homesteads, as you saw the women of every family kneel and make their prayers. Ever since the end of the pandemic five years ago, your village has been humming novenas every six p.m. or eight p.m. at night. You heard it was the same for the neighboring village, too.

“Hail our life, our sweetness and our hope…” You heard the little voices of innocent children as they tried to copy the words. It made your heart flutter. “To Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To Thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.”

Until you reached your street, prayers echoed. Your house loomed as you turn left. Gathering your skirt, you hopped over a puddle of mud and continued walking.

“Mom, I’m home,” you declared upon stepping your feet inside.

Mom was on her usual place near the fireplace, knitting new pillowcases with the dim light from the fire. She turned her head to see you, then pulls down her reading glasses to examine your slightly soaked skirts.

“I thought you’re sleeping in the church?” she asked as she twiddled the needle with her fingers.

“Father Ben won’t allow me,” you simply answered as you trodded towards the kitchenette.

There was only one light inside the house. It was located between the kitchenette and living room. During the pandemic, all energy had been used to fuel hospitals as well as quarantine facilities for the affected citizens. Energy had been lacking ever since.

You went back to the living room with a plate in hand. Food has been scarce in this part of town. But your mother has a little vegetable farm in the backyard. So it’s vegetable salad every night.

“Tomorrow is the first Sunday of the month,” she began, “Did you prepare anything?”

You munched while watching the needle pierce through the fabric. “Mayor Rosales failed to give us sponsorship. But we have gathered some money from the houses nearby the highway.” Those people who live near the highway were what you could call the richer ones. They have convenience stores lining up, and they pretty much sell anything a villager might need. “Father wants to feed the children this time.”

“Would that be enough? The money?”

“We’ll make do,” you sighed.

Mother hummed. “Bring the vegetables tomorrow, then. I’ve harvested enough for ingredients.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

ii. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…

He came into your life like a fog in the dawn; mysterious, hazy, and cold. The boy with the secret of the universe in his eyes, and danger playing along his boyish smile rang your door in the year 2040. When hope has only started to rebuild itself after the terrors of a sickness nobody had been able to see.

Easy smile, childlike laughters and soft hair— that has been him.

Your first encounter had been outside the church. Where he leaned in a big motorcycle while puffing smokes from his cigarette.

“Kids, please line up according to your height,” you told the children softly. Big innocent eyes stared back at you with excitement.

When suddenly, Lucy, the other sacristan, gestured to you to come over the front line where the food is located. “No pushing,” you warned the kids before leaving them with Rei, another sacristan.

“What is it?” you asked.

Lucy motioned her puckered lips towards the exit. “Could you tell him to smoke somewhere else?”

You followed her gesture. And your gaze landed straight to him as he blew out smoke from his lips. He playfully inhales from the cigarette bud and puffed it carelessly in the air. He was looking straight at the spot where you were currently glued at. Both of you held each other’s eyes, and you felt lost in those mysterious orbs for a good second until Lucy cleared her throat to gather your attention.

Spontaneously, your brows immediately shot up in vexation. It was forbidden to smoke inside and around the church’s vicinity. You gathered your skirts and sauntered up to him. As you near closer to him, you have caught a sight of a black patch plastered on the side of his neck.

The boy cocked a brow as he saw you nearing. You ignored his reaction and cleared your throat. But your breath seemed to be sweeped out of your lungs yet again when you realized that the black patch was a tattoo. It reads the word pervivo. “Mister, it is not allowed to smoke around the church. Could you please take that somewhere else?”

Instead of tossing his cigarette, he took a long sip from the bud and blew the smoke to your face. Shocked and absolutely disgusted, you fanned away the smoke frantically while coughing out the chemical that has succeeded to reach your nostrils and throat.

“What the—”

“Fuck?” he finished. The smoke slowly dissipates, revealing his dead set of eyes staring at you. He, then, threw the bud to the ground before crushing the ashes with the tip of his boot. “Can’t really cuss in here, can you?”

Such audacity! Your nose flared while trying to collect the little patience left in your system. Boys like him never failed to irate you.

Smoothing out your skirt, you straightened your spine with as much dignity as you can muster. “Blowing smoke—”

For the second time, the boy interrupted you by waving his hand high up in the air. “Father!” he shouted. The boy jogged the distance towards the line of children in front of the church to clap Father Ben’s back. Frozen on your feet, you stared at him in horror.

“Do you know him, Father?” you motioned your head to the boy who was casually smiling from ear to ear beside the priest. As if he didn’t deadpan at you earlier.

Father Ben stretched his lips into what you could call a small smile. “Hendery’s from the city. He’s to be our new sacristan.”

There was literal ringing in your ears by what you have heard. Hendery? A new sacristan? “Wait…” You let out an incredulous noise. “What?”

“I’m Hendery Wong. I came here to be the new sacristan.” The boy stretched out his hand to you. You look at it with reluctance evidently etched through your face.

“I don’t understand,” you managed to say while shaking Hendery’s hand. He has been surprisingly calloused, juxtaposing his soft and pretty face.

“I know you will soon, hija,” Father Ben said, “And I trust you to help Hendery adjust to the work here. Can you do that?”

Hendery’s smile never left his face. It was as if he was relishing to the predicament that you were in instead of being friendly. However, you couldn’t really turn down Father Ben. And it was not right to jump on your prejudices. Cigarettes and tattoos doesn’t mirror someone else’s personality. Hendery deserved the benefit of the doubt.

So you sighed. “I can, Father. Rest assured that I’ll show Hendery around.”

Father Ben tapped your shoulder lightly before joining Lucy to prepare the food for the children, leaving you with the new boy.

“So,” he began, garnering your attention. When you turn to look at him, Hendery’s demeanor has already changed. Or perhaps it was only your judgment getting the best of you. But there was a spark of something dangerous in the way that he looked at you. As if his eyes were the tip of the cigarette he inhaled mere minutes ago. Flickering— with a promise of charring if you ever come close. “Shall we begin?”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, you sighed deeply. “Could you wash and sanitize first? You know, you actually held a cigarette and we don’t wanna contaminate the food, right?”

His smile grew wider, erasing the enigma he exuded seconds ago. “Do you have a mask? You know, I’ve sipped a cigarette and we don’t want my spit to fly towards the food, right?”

You looked at him sharply. “Yes, we do have a mask. It’s become pretty mandatory since twenty years ago.”

Hendery stretcheso out his hand to let you walk first. From the long table on which the food has been placed, you grabbed a surgical mask to give to Hendery. When you turned to face him, he held up his hands suddenly.

“I haven’t yet washed my hands. I’ll appreciate it if you’ll put those here,” he said  while pointing at his ear.

He really was something. And you have found it oddly… endearing. You haven’t known ice and fire could co-exist in a single person. Until you have met him. You gulped— and you have no idea why— as you draped the strings of the mask around his ears. His mouth and nose disappeared, but that failed to decrease his beauty.

What is happening to you? In your whole existence, you have met boys with stars in their eyes but this has been your first time to see the whole universe in someone else’s irises.

You shook your head as Hendery departed in front of you to wash his hands.

Pretty boys are only boys until you try to make a verselet out of them. That was the line you have never wanted to cross.

Hendery would only be a word. Not poetry. Or would he?

iii. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary…

When you were amongst the poor during the pandemic, your survival rate would be extremely challenged. Luckily for you, your father had run a small business that successfully provided for your family during those trying times.

Five years ago, the world made its reset when it came to economy and livelihood. Almost all businesses shut down. The luxuries and opulence of the year 2020 had been vanquished completely.

Billionaires finally witnessed that they weren’t the gods they once thought they were as the claws of the sickness reached their thrones and destroyed their castles.

Regardless of the Internet’s power, trade fell. With it the Internet celebrities in YouTube, Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter— you name it.

Notwithstanding, the 2020’s pandemic hadn’t been the only one to devastate the Earth.

There had been multiple environmental issues, like the raging of wildfires in sundry forests across the globe. World War III also threatened to break out of its cage as countries fought for dominance over lands they clearly had no business to claim.

Police brutality rages on. Their authority had been used for mayhem other than peace. It has breached the lives of people, especially to that of the black community. Everything went clusterfuck because the authorities think some people are inferior to them. They harmed rather than serve.

Chaos. Death. Fear. Those three things have managed to leave a blotch of bleakness that now blanketed the Earth.

The death toll exceeded that of the Black Plague that had swept across Europe hundreds of years ago. Hospitals transformed to that of a colony— the patients as the ants. Total panic enveloped everyone. Especially the poor, whose only shield against it had been a little bottle of alcohol.

Great Depression two-point-o, some would call the economy right now. Minimal jobs were offered, but the salary won’t be enough to feed a family of four.

Poverty’s poison didn’t fail to contaminate the globe. It strengthened its hold to the third world country, and flowed slowly to those in the upper level of society. Despite it all, everyone collapsed on its feet: adults with dreams for the younger generations. Teenager with dreams for the future. And children who were only starting to build their aspirations.

With it, the hopes of the seven-year-old boy who has the constellations in his eyes and a promise of tomorrow in his innocent face. It had all been obliterated because of heartache and neglect.

Hendery witnessed it every night; the shoutings of his mother, and the hopelessness in his father’s face as yet another job had turned him down. His bedroom walls didn’t muffle the sound— the silence only intensified it.

“You are a useless piece of shit!” her mother would scream.

Despite that, Hendery’s father would only cover his face with his hands. He would absorb every nag and every hurtful words his wife would throw at him. Because tomorrow would be another day to fight and he couldn’t afford losing the battle now. At least, that was what Hendery believed.

Never once did he hear his mother ask about his sake. Never once did he hear the words, “What about Hendery? He would starve!”

Starve he did.

A lanky seven-year-old, his neighbors would call him. Salt and rice every night. You only have to close your eyes and eat. Wash down the taste with water and sleep.

The home that was meant to give him comfort had turned his own hell. Its unfavorable walls would suffocate him every day. Its dull and dirty carpet would be his only friend for the days that would come.

And as if the world wasn’t done throwing knives and rocks at his back, Hendery found something that had completely deteriorated the little boy in him.

One day, when he was returning from their neighbor’s house— full and a little bit energetic— he found his mother’s clothes littered over the floor, with it were pants and shirts that didn’t belong to his father.

With his boy heart and still developing mind, Hendery sat in the kitchen. The noise of his mother’s adultery echoed across the whole house. Hendery patiently waited for it to stop, sitting there with his feet dangling from the chair.

Then the door clicked open, revealing his mother and the man he didn’t recognize. From his position to the kitchen, his mother failed to notice him. But Hendery could see everything unfolding before his very eyes. The unknown man picked up his clothes. When he was completely dressed, he fished for his wallet and handed Hendery’s mother money.

That night, there were sausages and eggs in the table. His mother was enthusiastic, but there was a dull spark in her eyes. His father, too, despite the smile on his lips, was a flash of apology in his orbs.

Hendery slept soundly. A tear escaping his eye.

“Why are you crying?” You crouched in front of a boy named Kristan. Snot and tear has already mixed up in his face to create dirty splotches. You held his hands softly to put beside his body.

Kristan sniffed. But did not answer.

“Kristan, tell me what happened,” you gently asked. His head bowed down deeper, as if he was embarrassed and scared to tell you anything. Kristan, he was one of your favorites despite his silent comportment and shy eyes.

Ever since Father Ben decided to teach the children from the village basic education at the church, you have been curious about Kristan. There was something about the boy. Sadness. Melancholy. Loneliness.

“I am here—” You were interrupted by Hendery, who also crouched beside Kristan. “What are you doing?” you deadpan.

Hendery ignored you, as he focused on Kristan. He puts his hand on his shoulder and pulls down his mask. “Tell me who among these kids beat you up,” he whispered, “Was it him?” Then he pointed towards the other boy who was curiously watching the three of you.

The slightest shock adorned Kristan’s face. He looked at you warily, obviously perturbed by Hendery’s presence.

You smiled at him to tell him it’s alright. And that he doesn’t need to be cautious around Hendery. Although you didn’t know about that yourself. Hendery was still a mystery.

“They… didn’t hurt me,” Kristan said through his snuffles. “Thank… you, Miss Y/N,” he added, then he looked at Hendery, “And to you… Mister…?”

“Hendery. Call me Hendery.”

“Mister Hendery,” Kristan said, practicing the new syllables of Hendery’s name. Kristan bowed before walking towards the line of boys again.

Concerned about the well-being of the boy, you sighed. When you turned to go back to packing the foods, Hendery walked up towards Kristan again.

“What is this?” he asked while slightly pulling up the little boy’s sleeves. There was a purple mark right on his arm. Something that definitely resembled a contusion.

When Kristan realized what was happening, he flinched away from Hendery.

You hurried beside him once more, brows furrowed. “Kristan, what is that?”

His eyes were fervent, lips quivering while wriggling free of your hold from his arm. Because of the fear that you might hurt him, you let Kristan go. He ran away.

Father Ben rushed towards you, robes billowing like waves against the pavement. “What is happening?” he asked.

You shared a look with Hendery before answering, “Hendery and I saw something in his arm— something like a bruise,” you explained. “Father, I think there’s something going on with Kristan, and I am deeply concerned about his well-being.”

The priest listened and nodded his head. “Follow me, the both of you,” he commanded before pivoted on his heel.

Without offering Hendery a glance, you followed Father Ben inside the church and to his chamber. When all three of you were secured inside, Father Ben locked the door.

You couldn’t help but observe Hendery as he roamed his eyes around the room. As if he was searching for something. Something valuable. But when he looked at you, he smiled and all your doubts vanished in a blink. How could happiness and sadness co-exist at the same time in someone else’s body?

The sound of papers shuffling woke you from your reverie. Father Ben raised up a paper, and studied it with his reading glasses.

“Here is Kristan’s birth certificate,” he announced. “His mother died giving birth to him. Kristan is being taken care of his father, his alcoholic father, at their house in the southeast part of the village.”

You listened carefully to each word. You already know that Kristan’s only living parent was his father. But never once did Father Ben shared the reality of him being alcoholic. Goosebumps crawled onto your back as realization slowly weaved its way through your mind.

“His father’s hurting him,” Hendery pronounced beside you.

Father Ben hummed. “That, we do not yet know. So it’d be really helpful if the both of you would venture to their house and check for your own eyes. I would’ve gone myself but I won’t be able to fight his father if it ever comes to that,” Father Ben continued, “He’s quite well-known as an aggressive man.”

“And… I suppose Hendery could fight him off?” You raised a brow. Hendery’s built wasn’t like that of a body-builder. He definitely belonged to the species of boys with sad eyes and skinny bodies. Dangerous. Utterly dangerous.

He chuckled— a quite rumbling sound that could stir butterflies inside a woman’s stomach. “I’m quite a fighter, Y/N,” he said.

You sighed. “Let’s just hope that it won’t come to aggression.” Then you focused your attention back to the priest. “What of me? What can I contribute, Father?”

Father Ben placed the paper back to his drawers. “You have your wits in you, hija. Convince his father to give us Kristan for a while until he gets his life on the right path.”

After Father Ben’s instruction, the both of you made your way down the stairs. You still couldn’t understand why Father Ben asked Hendery to come. He was from town after all. Townspeople weren’t so used to life in the countryside. In their towering factories and buildings, they still pretend that they have the glory of the past.

“Are you really from the city?” you asked, turning your body to face him. He descended the last step while you stood on the second.

His steps halted at the question, then he tilted his head quite a bit too see you. “What of it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Having someone journey here from the city’s pretty unusual.” You descended the stairs and walked ahead of him.

“Having villagers in the city’s never been heard before,” he snorted.

Your brows furrowed. Was that an insult? Or was he simply baiting you? Whatever that meant, you halted. “What are you implying? That we don’t have the means to go to the city?” When Hendery shrugged, you puffed out your chest and held your chin up high. “Well, must I say to you that it’s pretty decent living in here than pretend to have riches in the city.”

He only chuckled, driving you irate even more. “We don’t pretend, Y/N.”

You have decided not to answer for your own well-being. He was truly a city boy. Arrogant. Condescending. Too full of himself. And you mustn’t bother yourself with him. Hendery was on the other side of your own spectrum. There was no point understanding a boy you have just met.

“Oh, wait.” You halted when you finally reached the exit door of the church. “I’ll ask Lucy if you could borrow her bicycle.” When you turned to leave, Hendery caught your wrist. Everything about you stopped functioning by the touch. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to boys holding you— but yes, you could say that.

“We can ride my motorbike,” he suggested, “Much more convenient, don’t you think?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. If the year 2020 had learned its way towards openness and liberty, well, 2040 failed to adapt to that. “No,” you simply answered.

“No? What do you mean no? You’ll only ride behind me, then we’ll take off.”

You groaned. “City boys.” If anyone would see you riding a big motorbike, they would curse you as if you were the demon. You despised the notion yourself. And it was really tempting to try new things once in a while. Perhaps you were only being stupid— or naive. There was no harm riding a big black and shiny motorbike, right? You heaved out a deep sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

Hendery’s confused visage turned to that of a bright one when he, once again, flashed you his pearlescent teeth. He jogged the distance towards his motorbike. Without any word, he hopped and snapped the pedal with his right foot.

“Hop in,” he said.

You raised a brow. “Helmet?”

“Church girls,” he groaned. You opened your mouth to speak, but Hendery once again cut you off, “Where is the fun in riding a motorbike if you’d wear a helmet?”

“Hendery, it’s a safety protocol if you aren’t—”

Once again, he groaned, “Where’s the fun in ‘safe’? Hop in.” He tilted his head to the side, encouraging you to finally hop in his motorbike.

“I think I’m gonna ride—”

“Y/N,” he firmly called, “Sometimes, you also have to taste the danger.” Then he reached for your hand. You would have flinched away, but the warmness of his palm hindered you from doing so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Trust? Mother says don’t talk to strangers. It has been a mantra of every little girl as they grow up. But you aren’t a little girl no more.

Other than his melancholic eyes, his name is all you know about him. And how could you trust the swirl of danger in his irises? However, humans are vexatious. They don’t always follow the rules.

When you are fed with deprivation of something extraordinary, you grow hankering after it.

You took Hendery’s hand. With your heart thudding inside your chest, you grasped your skirt and pulled your body upwards to sit on his motorbike. Hendery revved the engine, twisting his hand around the accelator.

“Please, slow down—!” Your chests collided against his back by the impact. Hendery chuckled, but he did not heed your cries. He rode through the road ahead, shoulders still rumbling of his laughters.

Skirt ballooning out, you prayed to God that you won’t meet your doom today. This has been a bad idea. A very bad one at that. What would people say if they witness a sacristan— a sacristan woman— riding this black motorcycle? With her skirts billowing out in the open? Oh, no. Your mother would whip you to shreds.

“Where are we going?” Hendery shouted.

You clutched on his front shirt tightly, afraid that the wind would surely swoosh you away if you do so much as to slacken your hold. “Where are we now?” you shouted back. Because you refused to sit up straight, you shielded yourself with Hendery’s body. And now your position shielded you away from seeing anything other than the road beneath the wheels.

“Y/N, please sit up straight.” He laughed. Oh, this boy relishes to your suffering. He really was. “We are currently entering a village…?”

You willed yourself to sit. Surely, it won’t kill you. You have seen actresses ride behind their own James Deans in big motorcycles such as this one.

“Alright, alright, I’ll slow down.” But Hendery’s words were muffled by the air. However, you felt the wheels roll slowly as it enters your village. Your village. Oh, no.

“No, please don’t! Faster, Hendery!” When he refused to rev the accelerator, you pinched his sides.

“Aw! Alright, alright!” Without another word, Hendery drove through the houses.

You obscured our face as much as you could. You couldn’t afford having someone recognize you. It won’t happen.

“Y/N, where are we going?” he asked for the second time. “We’re away from the houses. No one can see you here but the grasses,” he taunted.

You opened your eyes and saw the ground below, as well as the grasses. It only means you were well away from your village. You exhaled and sat up. “Turn left.”

“Left? Is there life at the end of this road?”

You deadpanned, “City boys.”

“No, seriously?”

“Yes, there is Hendery. It’s the most isolated part of the village— please look at the road,” you reminded him when he attempted to face you sideways.

“Kristan’s from here?”

“Apparently.”

He nodded his head. “He walks this distance every day?”

“Yes.”

It was somehow weird to talk about life in the countryside with a city boy. If Hendery was, indeed, from the city. You have no idea about the city ever since the pandemic. This has always been your home; the trees, the grasses, the kind neighbors, and a pious village. The liveliness of the wen— if claims were to be trusted— has been no more than a thing left in the back of your mind. It was almost a name you have no idea how to pronounce.

“You, too?” Hendery asked. A question you didn’t expect to hear.

“Uh-huh.” Then a chuckled. “We’re left with no choice since we have no resources when it comes to vehicles.”

“How do you go to the city, then?”

“We don’t go to the city. Unless it is needed.”

Hendery hummed. “And how do you go?”

“We ask the chieftain to lend us the ambulance.”

“The ambulance?” he asked.

The road becomes bumpy because of rocks, so you hold on him tightly once again. Hendery chuckled at your action, but did not bait you.

“Yes,” you answered. “Oh, we’re here,” you announced as Kristan’s village looms ahead. It was shielded away from your eyes because of the trees circling the whole vicinity.

“Do they sleep with snakes here?” There wasn’t any jeer to his voice, only curiosity.

You snorted. “Why don’t you stay for the night to try?” You gathered your skirt then planted your heel to the ground. With a swing of your leg, you hopped off his motorbike.

“I’d like to.” Hendery fished out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He pressed one between his fingers and lit the tip with a lighter.

“Is that necessary?” you asked.

People in this part of town weren’t welcoming. That was why it didn’t come off as a shock to know that Kristan’s father was alcoholic. It simply was the way of living here: alcohol, cigarettes, cards. That being said, having an outsider such as Hendery venture here could provoke the most hard-headed fathers and boys alike.

Hendery sipped then  blew smoke out in the air. “What are you scared of?”

For a minute, you caught a spark in his irises. It was as if he didn’t ask about your fears— but your insecurities. And of the things you wanted to try but couldn’t. Or perhaps it was only you, digging deeper into the simple question.

“God,” you simply answered.

“There is no god,” he retorted.

That caught you off-balance. An aspiring sacristan wouldn’t say that. “Father says you want to be a sacristan. How could you? When you don’t have any faith?”

Hendery stopped for a second before blinking. “There is no god but God the Father Almighty in heaven.” Then he flashed you a smile. You furrowed your brows. “Shall we?” he asked, throwing out his cigarette to the ground.

You shrugged.

Different sets of eyes pierced your bodies as you and Hendery trodded the dusty road. Mothers with their youngest born straddling their waists peered through wooden gates. Fathers with their cigarettes and beer bottles scrutinized you from head to toe. You were covered from your neck down your heel, but they look at you as if you were naked.

Hendery beside you exudes indifference. Shoulders straight and chin up high, Hendery stared every man down. You didn’t know if that’s a good idea or not. The last thing you need was a brawl between him and the juveniles surrounding you.

Finally, you have reached Kristan’s home. It ws made of cement and sawali, just like most of the houses you have just passed by.

You smoothed out your skirt before knocking. One, two, three knocks before his Father greeted you with a grunt.

“What d’ya want?” he asked  in a rumpled voice.

Hendery stepped beside you. “We’re here to talk.”

Kristan’s father wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t have anytime for you—”

“It’s about Kristan,” Hendery stated, jaw clenching.

To be honest, you didn’t expect him to make the talking. You could do it yourself. But you were still thankful that he was with you right now.

Kristan’s father rests his body against the doorframe. “What about my son?” Yes, he did ask about his son. However, there wasn’t any trace of concern in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Father Ben wants to take care of Kristan for a while, until we’re sure that he’s safe living here.”

You heard the crashing of his beer bottle first, before you felt the tightening of your throat by the way he grabbed your collar.

“No one tells me what to do—”

Your first instinct had been to lash out on him, but your anger got the best of you. Before you could act out on your own, Hendery wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist. With force, he pushes him away and twisted the bone.

You stared in horror as Kristan’s father screamed in pain while holding his broken wrist. “Hendery!” you shouted as he sauntered towards the man. Hendery grabbed his head and slammed his knees against his nose, once again cracking the bones.

Thunderstruck beyond comprehension, you flew towards Hendery. “Hendery! Stop!”

Kristan’s father was on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose. Hendery towered over him with clenched fist, ready to pounce at any given time. Before he could swing yet another blow, you already lay hold of his arm.

“What are you doing?!” you asked, out of breath.

“Beating the shit out of him,” he said in nonchalance.

“That— isn’t what Father Ben asked as to do,” you reminded him, despite the fact that Father Ben indeed expected a brawl.

Hendery’s muscles relaxed nonetheless. He pointed a finger towards Kristan’s father who’s still on the ground, glaring at the both of you.

You grapple for words— anything. “Did you hurt your son?” you ask.

“What of it? You don’t have a child so you won’t understand how it is to discipline one,” he answered.

Hendery crouched. You grabbed hold of his back collar. “You fucking hurt your son again,” he spits, “I will kill you.”

“Father, I’m home— Miss Y/N?”

The three of you turned your attention towards the little boy who entered the house. Kristan. He was holding a plastic of what you could tell was a bag of vegetables.

Kristan’s eyes turns to Hendery, and to his bloodied father. “Mister Hendery? What are you doing here?”

“You’ll come with us for a while,” Hendery said.

“What is happening?”

You crouched in front of the boy and lay hold of his shoulders. “Father Ben asked us to take you back to the church. Where you’ll stay for a while until your Father learns how to be a good one.”

“Really?” Kristan asked in relief.

Has this house been his hell that it’s a relief to be away from his father? You frowned at the thought.

“But… Father— he’s going to be alone.”

“Ask your Father. We still need his approval after all,” you explained.

Kristan walked towards his father, who was standing and padding his pants. Hendery crossed his arms over his chest, watching the man warily.

“Father, is it okay if I’ll leave for a while? Will you be fine?” the little boy asked.

“Go! Do what you want! Don’t come back!” he shouted.

However, Kristan didn’t flinch. It was as if he had been to used to this kind of treatment. “Alright, I’ll come back. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” Then he hugged his Father’s hips.

You looked away, unable to watch the scene unfolding before your eyes. It would seem as if Hendery couldn’t take it in himself, for your eyes crossed as he looks away, too.

“Take care and be good. I love you, Father.” Kristan turned his back against his Father. He smileed at you and took your hand. You held his hand tightly and spared his Father one last look.

He turned his back the same time his tear slid down his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat before bowing slightly as a goodbye.

iv. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried…

Pandemic and poverty, it truly was a wonder how Hendery survived such dreadful times. Perhaps there was really a god, lurking somewhere, ready to grant the wishes of the people during those awful times.

Yet as far as Hendery was concerned, nobody prayed for him when the pandemic striked him. Right, this lanky seven-year-old’s suffering didn’t end after he found out about his mother’s adultery.

At first, Hendery brushed off the heaviness of his eyelids together with his parched throat as a common sickness. He never told his mother or father about it, for the fear that it might fruit into something their financial stability won’t be able to answer for.

But then hours had gone by, with Hendery’s air passage slowly closing in on him. As if a boulder was placed right in on his lungs, demanding his life by choking him. Cough dry and head aching, Hendery twisted and turned on his bed, unable to think clearly. He felt as if he was dying— dying in the most horrible way possible.

Thereafter, he believed that he had gone in and out of consciousness, or perhaps it was only his vision going blurry from the ache his body was trying to fight off.

Hendery failed to recognize his father as he leaned to check his son. And he failed to recognize the feeling of being scooped up from the bed, with his father shouting for help as if his life depended on it.

Blotches of darkness swam in his line of sight. The cries of his mother as well as the panicked shouts of his father were muffled by his coughing.

Would this be the end? Was this the life the gods had planned out for him? To die young? To die without a fight? How do you accept this fate?

For once, he wanted to see the end of this pandemic. He wanted to witness the rainbow after this storm. For once, he yearned to see something beautiful. Just once.

Hendery fully succumbed to oblivion.

When he woke up, it was the white light that filled his vision. Was it heaven? Hendery tried to make sense of his surroundings, but no noise could be heard other than the beeping of machines around him.

His eyelids fluttered open completely. The ceiling to where his hospital bed was located flashed above him like a canvas of nothing but white. There was a tightness in his nose, and he realized that he was breathing through an apparatus.

Hendery tried to move his fingers. They were mobile, albeit frail. It’s the same with his feet. Perhaps it was the incessant ravaging of the cough against his lungs that made him sick to the bones. He would’ve thanked whoever there was to be thankful for, if not for the uncertainty that was still stretching out in front of him. The pandemic wasn’t a one-night killer. It would render you infirm for weeks— it’s only up to the doctors and your own antibodies if they won’t collapse and give up on you.

And Hendery’s feeble state, as well as his age, failed to give him much hope.

He would die, right there— alone. God has shunned him away. He refused to cry, since no amount of tears could appease the loneliness inside him.

Hendery closed his eyes again.

The second time he woke, the doctors were smiling in front of him. The nurses guided him out of his bed. They even helped him get dressed in new clothes. Baffled was an understatement for what he felt that day. Was he out of danger? Could he truly live now? With his mother and father once again?

For the first time since his life went downhill, Hendery smiled. There wasn’t a reason not to. If he could, he would jump from happiness. He did it. He survived.

Hendery excitedly roamed his eyes around him from the wheelchair, hoping to finally meet his parents after weeks of being separated from them. Yet no familiar faces greeted him when he reached the exit of the hospital.

A clawing feeling rested in his stomach, but he couldn’t afford to cave in his fear. Hendery remained smiling until a middle-aged woman stood before him.

“Are you Hendery?” she asked.

“Yes. I am,” Hendery answered without looking at the woman. He was busy searching for his parents.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my niece. I’ll  forever be grateful for your service. I’ll take him from here,” the woman announced.

“Wait—” Hendery turned around to see the woman taking the wheelchair from the nurses. “Where’s my Mom? My Dad?”

“Hendery, I’ll explain once we reach the house,” his apparent aunt said.

Hendery pursed his lips together. “Is Mom and Dad—”

“Be quiet,” the woman said softly.

Hendery had been quiet thereafter.

Hendery looked up to see the stars in the skies. How pretty they truly were. He won’t blame those who wishes upon these twinkling white lights. But he would feel utterly stupid himself to whisper his dreams to these scintillating lights that would die later on.

Supernova, scientists call it. It is the dying of a star. It is its return to atoms, particles, or whatever shit there is in the universe even before matter and time took its place.

Hendery let the liquor grate his throat as he took yet another swig from his bottle. Liquor and unwanted memories? Sign him up. Deep conversations with himself? He might be heartless in the eyes of many, but Hendery knew how to contemplate things. Too bad that he didn’t have anyone to share his thoughts with.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Oh, perhaps there was.

Aghast by the fact that there were empty bottles littered all around him, you gazed at Hendery.

It had been a week since he arrived at the church, telling everyone that he wanted to be a sacristan. So far, so good. He was a fast-learner albeit not showing any interests when it came to talking about the Bible. You still had your doubts in the pockets of your skirts. And seeing him drinking himself right behind the structures of the Church only intensified your wariness.

But the boy faced you with a smile. “Drinking,” he answered with a shrug.

“I know you are drinking,” you seethed. “But why are you drinking?”

It was past six p.m. already. You had completed your duties to the Church, and had also tucked in Kristan to the sacristan’s quarters just below Father Ben’s own chamber.

“To let off some steam.”

You stomped towards him with your chest puffing out of irritation. “First, you smoke on your first day. Then you drink on your first week. What on earth is wrong with you, Hendery?”

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while?”

You flew your arms to the air. “You are unbelievable.”

Hendery leaned back. “Aren’t you curious about me?”

“I am—” You closed your mouth. The words slipped out before you knew it.

His smile only widened . “Father Ben’s secured in his chamber. There is no need to fret.” He motioned his head down the space beside him. “Sit.”

They said drunk men speak the most truth. If you could squeeze anything out of him by joining him tonight, you would. With a heavy heart, you sat beside Hendery. The acrid smell of the alcohol whiffed your nose like a whiplash instantly.

“Now,” he began. “Ask me anything you want.”

“Where are y—”

Hendery pressed a finger to your lips. “In one condition: drink.”

You swatted his hand away with a frown. “I’m going.” But before you could stand up, Hendery held your wrist.

“I’m kidding,” the boy said  with a chuckle.

There. That smile. That chuckle.

“Seriously.” You sat comfortably again. “Where are you from?”

“The city,” he answered. “I was born in the city. It’s all I’ve ever known ever since.”

“The pandemic hit the city hardest,” you commented. It was true, though. Because of their lifestyle and opulence, the pandemic moved way faster in the city compared to the villages.

“Yes, it did,” he whispered before downing the last gulp from his bottle. Hendery burped softly before tossing the empty bottle to the grass.

“One, two, three, four—” You scrunched your nose. “Five bottles. Now tell me, where did you get these?” you asked, pertaining to the liquor.

Hendery looked at you as if you beguile him to the fullest. “Convenience store. You have it here.”

You shot up a brow. “And you decided it best to consume them here? In the Church?”

“If it wasn’t obvious, yes.”

“I don’t have anything against you, smoking and drinking, but we shall set a good example to the children.”

Hendery quirked a brow. “Do you think smoking and drinking are bad examples?”

“Personally? No.” It was true. You didn’t think they were bad examples. It was always the person. But the church-goers were mostly children. They still don’t have the capacity to balance the right and the wrong for their age. Eventually, they would know. However, it was your duty to protect their innocent minds as best you could. “But there are children here. We must guide them.”

“They’ll learn to smoke later on.” He shrugged.

You hummed. “That, we aren’t sure of. Until then, let’s guide them first.”

“You’re truly devoted to being a sacristan, aren’t you?” Hendery asked, his head looking up to the skies.

You watched him in silence. His side profile was undeniably beautiful. You have never seen such soft features, to be honest. “Yes, I am.”

“Is that your dream?”

You tilted your head up to see the skies yourself. The stars were sprinkled like white sands against the darkness of the heavens. You smiled. “I have a lot of dreams, though. Like the stars above, they are somewhat implausible.”

It was his turn to look at you. If he was to be honest, Hendery found your face marvelous. He had never seen your likeness in the city. “Why do you say that?”

Perhaps someone would find it funny that you were opening yourself up to this boy. A boy you just met one week ago. However, there was a space in your heart that tells you it’s alright to tell Hendery all your dreams and worries, your aspirations and your doubts. Strangers couldn’t judge you.

You sigh. “I am… stuck here. I’ve never been anywhere else but here.”

“Not even in the city?”

You shake your head.

Hendery hums. “Well, it’s not really different. If not, it’s worse.” He chuckles. “Everyone lives as if it’s the end of the world tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” You hugged your knees closer to your chests. “I’ve always wanted to experience a night like that.”

Hendery snorted. “It gets tiring. And it’s not really convenient when you don’t have the money.”

“For what? Can’t you enjoy without it?”

He strayed his eyes towards you. There was a spark of amusement dancing in his orbs. As if he found your question fascinating. “You can’t. What about drugs? Alcohol? Cigarettes? You can’t buy those without money.”

Oh. Of course. Hendery’s talking about parties. He looked like that kind of boy at first glance. Yet upon hearing his snorts and the dissent on his face, you have realized that perhaps both of you were yearning for something you weren’t been born to reach. You, the city. Him, the peace of the countryside.

“I wasn’t talking about those,” you said. Hendery fixed you with a curious look. “I’m talking about the city lights above the rooftops. The blare of the cars. The life outside this town.”

Hendery threw his head back, contorting the tattoo on the side of his neck, and laughed softly. “Of course.” His laughters ceased, like smoke slowly dissipating into the air. “But there is more to that.”

You stood up and smoothed out your skirt. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t you want more?”

With that, you looked down at him to flash him a small smile. “I’ve always wanted more. Perhaps there is more to the world than this little town. Perhaps I deserve to see it one day.”

Hendery didn’t break eye contact when he said the words, “There are millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.”

In which you didn’t have any answer for.

v. He descended to the dead. On the third day, He rose again…

Hendery waited. For hours, days, months, but he’d never seen his parents again.

The roof above him and the floors underneath his feet were a place he had never seen before. Wherever he looked, the unfamiliarity of everything would hit him like a tidal wave. From the couches to the television, to the doorframe and the windowsills, no one could deny that this house had seen better days.

Hendery sleeps in a cot of hard wood that leaves his back aching every morning. He eats in a kitchen with mice crawling in the corners and cockroaches flying in different directions. Nevertheless, there was food and somehow it was all that matters.

What happened to his Mom and Dad? Hendery was left with puzzles of an answer himself. After he survived the pandemic, he was met with yet another obstacle: orphanhood.

His aunt, Lilia, said that his father died. He died because of the pandemic, too. Hendery wept for days on end, refusing to believe what had befell his loving father. But as Lilia showed him the death certificate, Hendery’s world collapsed to shreds. That had been the time when he felt utterly alone, with no one to guide him and no one to tuck him in his sleep but the coldness of the world and the loneliness of the night.

His mother— no one knows what happened to her. They say she was in an asylum. They say what had betided her husband and son shattered her mind. Hendery tried to gather information. He tried to ask his aunt about his mother’s whereabouts. But whenever he does, he’s met with a slap on the cheek.

Aunt Lilia was a kind woman— she really was. But there had been times when she would talk to no one in the windows, or would cry with unknown reasons on the kitchen floors. Sometimes, she would sing lullabies to help Hendery sleep. Sometimes, she would whip him until he was crying and begging for help.

No one saved him.

One day, when Aunt Lilia was fast asleep and snoring on her couch, Hendery tiptoed to the door. It’s time for him to leave this godforsaken place. It’s time that he finds his mother. He was twelve years old.

According to the doctors themselves, you become immune to the pandemic once it has already hit you. Hendery braved the pandemic with a single mask and a little bottle of alcohol. And for months, he would live in the streets.

You sang your favorite song while walking. It was eight p.m., the road was almost empty, save for a few workers going home to your village. Fortunately, it didn’t rain tonight so there were no need for umbrellas and tiptoeing through the mud.

Hendery remained in the Church, to do what, you hadn’t bothered to ask. He offered to take you home, but you politely declined. After a series of convincing Hendery that you were going to be fine on your own, his shoulders finally slumped in approval. Your mother would collapse on the ground if she ever sees you riding Hendery’s motorbike.

You didn’t take him for a gentleman. However, there were still a lot of things you didn’t know about the boy. After your conversation with him on the grasses, perhaps he’s allowed you to slip through his visions, even just for a little bit.

As you neared towards your house, elders and children alike scattering around your street drew you in a halt. What is happening? A bad feeling rested in your stomach, but you sent a silent prayer that it wasn’t what you were thinking about.

Your mother was also one of the villagers out, so you sauntered straight towards her with your forehead drawn in a crease. “What’s happening, Mom?”

Her lips were pulled in a tight frown. “Bandits!” she seethed, as if the word had been the cruelest of all curses. “They took Loira’s money that she hid under the dresser.”

“How? Are bandits that skilled?”

As far as you could tell, Aunt Loira’s home was barred from ceiling to floor. She doesn’t go out of the house without locking all the possible holes that bandits might slip through.

“Evil knows no bounds,” your mother once again spat. “Yes, they are that skilled and heartless nowadays.”

The village chieftain as well as the other tanods circle Aunt Loira’s home with their lamps and flashlights. But you’d doubted that they would acquire evidence. Bandits had been pillaging your village as well as the neighboring ones for years. No one could ell what they look like. However, some elders think that the men from Kristan’s village were the ones responsible for the robbery.

“But Aunt Loira literally bars her whole house whenever she leaves for the market, right?”

Your mother made a strange noise through her nose. “She forgot to lock her back door when she left earlier.” Then she wrapped a hand around your wrist. “Come, the food’s getting colder.”

With one last look at Aunt Loira’s house, you let your mother lead you away from the mayhem.

You have been a victim of the bandits yourselves. Once, when you were ten years old. And it had been of your own fault. Father and Mother went to the market that day, and being the only daughter that you were, you had no one to play with whenever they were away. So you hopped out of bed, with your morning glory still stuck in your eyes and hair like the nest of birds, you hadn’t bothered to lock your house and flew straight to your childhood friends.

When you came back home, Mother was frowning at you. She would’ve had you whipped if not for your father, who kindly stood between you and your mother’s diabolical punishments. The money from the old refrigerator was stolen. It was the money for the renovation of your own room. Because of its looting, you still stare at the blotches of rainwater on your canopy every night until now, praying that it won’t collapse on you.

As you lay on your bed, silent contemplations ravaged your mind: the conversation with Hendery, the bandits, your unattainable dreams— are they though?

You have always dreamed of traveling the world. See the wonders of it for yourself. But how could you do that if you have been stuck here ever since? You have no idea what the city looks like. Mother said you were born in the city, but before the lockdown had taken place over the whole country, Mother went back to this village. Apparently, the isolated places were safer during the pandemic.

The pandemic has been over for five years now. Surely, there was more to life than this quiet town, right? You love this village with all your heart. However, you feel as if there were a lot more waiting for you out there. As Hendery said, there were millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.

Dare. What an audacious word. It made you feel dauntless just saying it.

You sat up and stared at the view outside your windows. What could truly happen if you dares the world? What could happen if you step your foot out of this town and dare?

vi. He ascended into Heaven, sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty…

“He’s not from here,” the other boys whispered.

Hendery continued ransacking the trash cans under the bridge. It had been exactly two weeks since he escaped Aunt Lilia’s hell house. And he wasn’t fairing well. The coins he stole from Aunt Lilia’s dresser were beginning to sound nothing in his pockets despite the fact that water was all his body consumed ever since escaping.

They say you could survive without food, but you wouldn’t survive without water. So he drank and drank until his stomach became bloated. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Hendery would buy at least one bottle of water with the stolen money and would consume it for two days. Sounds impossible for other people, but Hendery made it to two weeks of not fainting on the ground by that.

“He looks like he’s from here, though,” the other boy commented.

Hendery paid them no heed, for he found a bag of chips in the trash. It tasted like ashes in his mouth, but he couldn’t complain. He’d never complain.

Hendery fished for yet another chip when the boys snatched the bag away from him. They sneered. At long last, Hendery looked at them. And they were exactly like a mirror of him. Greasy hair, acrid smell, tattered clothes— and that something in their eyes: despair.

“Where are you from, boy?” One of them asked.

Boy? He didn’t look older than Hendery. However similar their situations might be, he had no time to linger around them. He needed to find his mother. So he turned his back and walked away. Not even a few steps ahead, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The boy smirked before landing a blow at his nose.

Hendery staggered backwards, aghast and angry at the same time. He touched his nose, and found it bleeding. Fueled by hunger and lost and a shit ton of problems, Hendery let his backpack fall to the ground and charged towards the boy.

They rolled off the ground. Hendery had him by the collar, and all the boy did was to choke. If no one would intrude, Hendery could surely kill him. But when they rolled once more and Hendery got on the boy’s stomach, he raised a fist only for someone to wrap a viselike grip around his wrist.

Hendery shot him a glare, but he answered him with a kind smile. That was when he noticed there were at least five of them there. Six, if Hendery was to count himself.

“There is no need for us to kill each other,” the boy said. “Stand up.”

Hesitant, Hendery wriggled free before standing on his feet. Once again, he turned on his heel to walk away.

“Why are you leaving?” the boy asked. “We have food here. And a shelter for the night.”

That sounded like a dream. Hendery had never heard of that for two weeks. Not even experienced any of that. Still, he didn’t turn.

“I promise we won’t harm you.”

He continued to walk away. If Hendery had come to a realization, it was that he could survive on his own. He’d experienced a lot of shit already being with people.

“We can help you!” the boy shouted.

With that, Hendery gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. He didn’t know if it was out of luck, or the boy really hit something that made his consciousness stir. If Hendery wanted to find his mother, it’d be better to have companions he could rely on.

He turned to face the boys again. “Really?” he shouted back.

They looked at one another before trodding the distance towards Hendery. The taller man stretched out his hand, with a smile he said, “I’m Kun.”

Hendery stared at the hand before taking it. “Hendery.”

“We can help you,” Kun said. “In one condition.”

You stared at your reflection on the mirror. The glass had a lot of brown blotches because of its age. But your reflection could still be seen.

Another day, another walk, another face to greet.

It’s Sunday already. The third Sunday of the month. You once believed that if people would pray day and night in the churches and in their houses, the bad things crawling in the world would somehow lessen. You were mistaken.

Bandits, bandits, bandits. They were everywhere these days. Mother even refused to go to the market in fear of being robbed. That left you with no choice but to go on your own. How? You exactly have no idea.

It was always best to visit the market at dawn, for the vegetables and meats were still fresh. You could still buy something after noon, but it won’t be as worth the money as they were in the gloaming. And the bandits had left yet another fiendish mess at Uncle Gino’s house. Your mother had been a cursing mess for hours since they stole a precious heirloom from Uncle’s treasure chest.

You sighed. Why is your village always prone to bandits? It wasn’t as if your chieftain never does anything for it, if not, he’s hands-on searching for the robbers. With no luck at all. Bandits disappeara like a bubble everytime they come close to capturing them.

At the church, everyone else was busy when you arrived. Save for one person; Hendery. He was leaning on the door frame of the sacristan’s quarter, watching everyone pass by him.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” you asked when you reached him.

“Ah, my dearest Y/N,” he sighed. “How I’ve missed you dearly.”

You deadpanned. “We met yesterday, Hendery.”

“Then? Am I not allowed to miss you?” He raised a brow.

You compressed your lips in a tight line. Three weeks since the boy arrived and in some way you have found a common ground together: talking about your dreams. Well, it’s you who’s always doing the talking. While he listened and snorted whenever he disagrees with you. It had been somewhat challenging, having someone disagree with you.

“Let’s go,” you sighed. “The mass is about to start.”

Thankfully, he was already donned in his white robes. No matter how holy the color might be, it failed to make him one. If not, it had only intensified the danger lurking within him.

Hendery yawned all throughout the mass, resulting in you nudging his ribs with your elbow. You couldn’t still comprehend his goal for joining the church. He seemed disinterested about everything. You have to find out his true intentions or else you will lose your mind thinking.

And it was not right to think about anything but the Lord while the mass is going on.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…” The churchgoers starts to sing. They clasped their hands as if in prayer while singing. Father Ben already practiced the right way in singing the litany. No one holds hand any longer.

You clasped your own hand. “Holy be Thy Name— what are you doing?” In bafflement and shock, you hissed louder than what you intended to.

Hendery took your right hand to clasped with his left. He didn’t answer you, though. He kept on looking straight at the altar. “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done…” he started to sing along.

Flustered on where you stand, you roamed your eyes around you. Lucy and Rei were busy singing their hymns, oblivious to the way Hendery was breaking Father Ben’s rule.

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was viselike. It’s disrupting the mass for you. With a heavy intake of breath, you let it go. “On Earth as it is in Heaven…” you sang along.

When he heard you, Hendery slackened his hold. You looked at him the same time he looked at you. And there he was, smiling like an idiot. “Give us this day, our daily bread…” he sang as he focused on the altar again.

You blinked, heart doing somersaults inside your chest. “And forgive us our trespasses…” you sang.

Everything had come at once. The echoes of the singing churchgoers, as well as Hendery’s.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us…”

The beating of your heart was wild. For what reasons? You have no idea. It was just there, beating stubbornly inside your ribcage.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

After the mass, and when all the churchgoers finished asking for Father Ben’s blessings and advice, he gathered all the sacristan inside the church.

You sat between Rei and Lucy, while Hendery sat behind you. He still has that infuriating smile on his face. Truth be told, and no matter how hard you tried, you also smiled a little yourself.

“I’ve heard the concerns of the people,” Father Ben announced. “For years, we have faced the bandits.”

You straightened up. In his own ways, Father Ben had been a huge help for the people. You won’t call him rich, but he’s always ready to lend money to those who fell to the bandits’ wrongdoings. You have seen his treasure chest once, and you believe you had been the only one allowed to see it.

“As much as I would like to financially aid everyone, my coffers couldn’t hold everything,” he added.

Lucy intruded, “It is alright Father. You’ve been helping us since you came here in the village. And for that we are thankful. But you need not bother yourself for our problems.”

Father Ben smiled. “I am the priest of this town. I need to preserve peace just like the chieftain. It’s been a pleasure to help with my own ways.”

You cleared your throat. “How can we help, Father?”

“Ah, yes.” Father Ben placed his hands behind him. “I need you to be vigilant. Not only for your own sakes, but for the well-being of others, too. Help in your own little ways. Be it helping the townspeople pick the strongest barriers there is in the market, they’d appreciate that. I trust you all. And don’t forget to pray for your village and the neighboring ones, too.” Father Ben makes a cross in the air. “May God bless us all.”

“Amen,” you said in unison.

Father Ben returned behind the altar to check up on Kristan, more likely. As for the little boy, he was comfortable, he said. His father also tried to visit him, but found it hard to face his son. Kristan said  it’s fine, and that his father deserved time to think.

You stood up together with the other sacristan with a sigh. Bandits are such headaches. It gets tiring having to deal with them. It feels as if dealing with the wind. Invisible. And there was yet another headache you have to face: going to the market.

If you were lucky, you could reach the market at one p.m.. But vehicles during this time of the day were rare. Not to mention the village was isolated.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hendery asked as he stood in front of you.

You sighed a pensive one. He’s your third headache of the day. “Please, Hendery. I’m thinking.” You started to walk away, but he followed beside you.

“Perhaps I can help.”

You drew in a halt. Mayhaps it was a blessing in disguise— him. Hendery has a motorbike. You’d get there and come back on time if you would ride with him. But courage was a luxury you couldn’t afford, so you shun the thoughts.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Your tongue ached to say the words. And your body yearned to feel the wind on your face, too. It was not everyday that a chance opens up like this in front of you. Dare.

You straightened your shoulders. “Can you take me to the market?” The market isn’t as far as the city. But going in there is a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity you couldn’t afford to miss. It was a step, no matter how small.

Hendery raised a brow. “What business do you have in the market?”

You played with your lower lip with your teeth. A fleet of a moment, and a moment you had surely missed: the way Hendery looked at your lips when you rolled it between your teeth. “Well,” you said, “I need to buy some food. And mother wouldn’t leave the house in fear of bandits robbing us.”

“Understandable,” he said. “But I have a condition to make.”

“Forget it—”

“Kidding.” Then he laughed. “You are one hell of a heartless woman, do you know that?”

A ghost of a smile painted your lips. “It is not right to say ‘hell’ inside the church. And why do you say that?”

“What about my wage?”

You blinked. “Oh, I— I didn’t bring any extra cash—”

Hendery placed his hand on the top of your head. “I’m just kidding.” Then he pivoted on his heel, his keys dangling between his fingers.

You followed.

“I thought you didn’t have a helmet.” You shot up a brow to your forehead upon seeing one helmet resting on his accelerator.

Hendery shrugged. “It’s for you.”

And there it wasagain, the wild beating of your heart. As if it was an animal begging to be unleashed to the world. “That’s… kind of you.” That had been the only thing you were able to say. “But how did you know to bring one?”

He disentangled the helmet from the accelerator. “Because I am always waiting for you.”

“For me? What do you mean?”

“I’m always waiting for you to ask me to take you to the city.”

Without giving you any time to comprehend his words and form coherent answers, Hendery fixed the helmet to your head. But before he could fully lock it under your chin, you stopped his hands.

“I think I’ll prefer to feel the wind.”

Hendery smiled, but continued to lock the helmet nevertheless. “Not today. I drive relatively fast, and the road to the market’s pretty bumpy. You won’t enjoy it.”

“I appreciate you, bringing this, but—”

He tapped the head of the helmet. “No buts.”

Hendery climbed his motorbike, then nudged his head to invite you to hop in. Just like the last time, you pulled up your skits and climb behind him. He revved the engine and you rode together.

The feel of riding behind him had become a reflex inside your body. A peaceful one, despite the blare of his engine and the harsh slap of the wind on your face.

“Hold on,” he reminded you before he accelerated the engine yet again.

You wrapped your arms around his torso. This was the second time you rode a motorbike, but the feeling compared to last time has drastically changed. There was no fear now. Only fascination and curiosity of what lies behind everything you have ever known.

If you’d only dare.

An hour before the clock strikes two, you have finally reached the buzz of the market.

When the pandemic ended, the livelihood didn’t go back automatically to normal. There were millions of protocols and reminders from the government. Because the pandemic didn’t really disappear like a bubble in the air. It was there, still. But after the years of its ravaging, the human body slowly adapted to its hazards.

It became just like the flu. More dangerous, yes. But less hazardous now.

“Wait for me here,” you said to Hendery.

“I’ll come with you.”

You stopped. “Are you sure? It’s quite chaotic inside. And… city boys are city boys.”

A playful laugh resonated from him. “I’ve been here before, sacristan. I’ll be fine.”

When he said that he’d be fine, it was true. Hendery jumped from vendor to vendor to help you buy all your needs. Be it meat, poultry, vegetables, or fruits. Father’s coming home in two days after weeks of being away, so Mother wants to cook something special for him. And you, too.

“Is this all?” he asked when you finished. Hendery insisted on carrying everything, which you politely declined. But he didn’t stop bugging you about it until you gave up and handed him everything.

“I need to buy onions over there, across the street. Could you hold this for me? I’ll be quick.”

Hendery nodded. You fished for your wallet inside your pocket. Halfway across the street, someone bumped into you.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said. But the man ignored you as he continued to walk away.

Five steps ahead, you noticed something. Your wallet was stolen. Before you could shout, Hendery was running for the boy already. Shocked and confused, you did the first thing that occured to your mind; run for them.

The wallet didn’t have much money, but it was given by your mother on your birthday. And you have been utterly sentimental when it comes to gifts. The boy can take the money, but he needs to give back your wallet.

Hendery ran pretty fast that you almost lost him in the maze of people and stalls alike. He turned left. You pulled up your heavy skirts and follow him. When you finally reached the alleyway he’s run off to, you have found out that it was a dead end.

Hendery was sitting on the boy’s stomach, and he had him by the throat. Few steps away from them, your wallet lays on the ground. You gulped and sauntered up to the two boys.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hendery?”

He knew Hendery? How come?

“Dude, you need to let me g—”

Hendery punched him straight. You gasped. The boy’s eyes rolled before his head collapsed to the ground. And he was unconscious.

Hendery stood up and picked your wallet. He didn’t look at you when he handed it back. “Let’s go home,” he says.

You stared at the boy with your brows narrowing. Is he a bandit? How did he know Hendery? Gripping the wallet tightly, you pivoted on your heels and walked away.

Something wasn’t right.

vii. From thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead...

“I say I beat the shit out of him right now,” Xiaojun seethed upon seeing Hendery enter the room.

Kun, while sitting on the table, raised a hand to stop the other boy from attacking Hendery. He had always been like that; the middle man. Yet Hendery could sense the disappointment as well as the inquisition in the air. This is going to be one hell of a night.

“Sit,” Kun announced as he stretched out his hand to the empty chair on his left side.

Xiaojun, Hendery’s comrade, had his fist clenched while sitting on the window sill. The punch he landed on his face has left a contusion to the bone right below his eyes. Hendery didn’t feel sorry. Not even a little bit.

Kun’s ‘office’ had been stripped off any furniture saved for a table and two chairs. There was only one light hanging from the ceiling. It casted off an orange hue to everything it touches.

If Hendery spends so much as an hour here, he would lose his mind. However, Kun has managed to make this empty place his abode whenever he plans out another robbery or crime. It was comparatively fitting, if he was to be honest.

When Hendery had made himself comfortable on his seat, Kun stood up. “I’ve heard entertaining news today.” He smiled. It would come off as a kind one if you were looking in the surface, but Hendery knew the depths of the edges of that smile.

Nevertheless, Hendery hasn’t been the one to be scared of anything. “Is it about me…” Hendery strays his eyes towards Xiaojun. “Punching someone?” The smile he casted after had completely set his comrade’s blood on fire.

Xiaojun jumped, attempting to attack Hendery once more. Kun gripped his arm in a firm hold. Xiaojun slouched back on the other chair, panting heavily.

“You’re fucking dead to me, Wong,” he spat.

Hendery leaned closer. “Bring it on.”

“Shut the fuck up, you both,” Kun sighed while massaging his temples. “Or just go ahead and get your guns, shoot each other in the head and be done with it.”

Tempting was the offer, but Hendery took it as a warning. However, it had been pretty effective. Hendery leaned back to his chair, hands dangling on his sides. “What’s the matter?”

Kun chuckleed. “You.” He licked his lips while pointing his finger at Hendery. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

“Well—” Hendery stumbleed and fell from the chair. That, he hadn’t seen coming. Kun had always been strong when it comes to boxing someone’s ears. Before Hendery could stand up, he spat blood on the cold floor.

Hendery wipeed his mouth with the back of his hand. It was his turn to chuckle. “I really am.”

Kun wrapped his hand around Hendery’s collar, then he slammed his back against the wall. Sight obscured because of of the hair falling down his eyelids, Hendery felt the blood flowing from the side of his mouth to his chin.

“Why did you do it?” Kun asked.

“What did I—” Hendery fell to the ground as his face met Kun’s fist. His vision blurs, causing him to blink languidly. Perhaps he heard Xiaojun’s laughters, or his sniggers, he wasn’t sure.

Hendery felt like a sack of cotton as Kun hurled him up with his back collar. His back was against the wall again. Now, he feels two warm liquid flowing from the sides of his mouth.

“Why did you do it?”

His mouth twisted in a leer. “None of your business.”

Hendery’s stomach caved in as Kun landed a punch to his guts. Air left his lungs for a moment, and he found it extremely hard to breathe. Hendery had always hated being punched in the stomach.

As he tried to catch his breath, he watched as Kun’s feet started to pace the space in front of him. Hendery continues to blink. Then Kun crouched.

“Who is she?”

She. Hendery stared at Kun. The years of them together flashed in his eyes like a projector in a wide white screen: the day he met his gang of bandits, his first time holding a gun, robbing a store, and shooting someone plays right in his eyes like a movie on repeat.

“None of you fuckers are going anywhere near her,” he stated in a voice so cold even the demon stared back at him in horror.

Kun was silent for a moment. Eyes hard staring at Hendery. Then he asked, “What the fuck is happening to you?”

Hendery realized that he had no answer to the question. But the thought of you, falling in danger feels like rotten food in his stomach. It made him want to retch.

Nobody had seen it coming, that was for sure. This feeling inside him— this wriggling feeling whenever he was with you. Whenever you smile at him. Whenever you tell him your dreams.

Hendery stood up and looked straight at Kun and then at Xiaojun. “Don’t fucking dare,” he warned before he pivoted on his heel.

Two steps away, Kun stated, “I’ll let you swim in your foolishness but don’t fuck this up, Hen. Remember why I sent you to the church.”

Hendery waved  his hand. “I remember.”

He’d gone straight to his own room and tended for his own wound. Hendery sat on his bed, meditating over his actions earlier.

For years he had been one of Kun’s best bandit. Ever since he met him under the bridge. Xiaojun landed his fist straight to his nose that day, too. And that had been all Hendery had known. To fight, to survive. Even if it means licking the edge of the knife.

The time Kun handed him a gun, Hendery knew his hands trembled. For that he missed his first aim. But as the days went by that all he’d ever held was a bullet, a magazine, and a gun, Hendery became as sharp as a pointed knife when it came to mowing down.

He stared at his calloused hand. The rough palms stares back at him, as if in insult. He’s lost count of the stores he’s robbed. Of the houses he’d stolen from. Of the individuals he pointed the barrel of the gun at. Is this what he has been born to do?

All he ever wanted was to meet his mother again. To hold that hateful woman in his arms. To tell her that her son survived and there has been an aching hole inside him ever since she disappeared without a trace.

Years of searching for nothing, Hendery thought he’s already turned every stone in this country upside down searching for his lost mother. And it all went in vain.

Hendery doesn’t know who to blame: the pandemic, his mother, or his own self?

You chewed on your bottom lip while walking the long road towards your home. The scene from the market, and the robbery that had taken place refused to leave your mind. You sigh, since those weren’t the only things trying to penetrate your brain. Hendery refused to leave, too.

Perhaps you should be thankful that he somewhat saved your money earlier. Bandits are heartless. The boy could’ve been carrying a pocket knife and Hendery would’ve been in grave danger. Yet he braved the possible risks and ran for the boy nonetheless. Worries aside, you cannot help but feel perturbed of the way the bandit called Hendery’s name.

Are they related? If yes, how?

Before entering your house, you straightened your back. Mother senses even a slip of your composure, and she’d never let you go unless you tell her what’s wrong.

You raised your fist to knock, then a familiar face greeted you when the door swung open suddenly. The bags you have been holding fell as you squealed and jumped to hug your father. “Father!” you exclaim.

He laughed as he wraps his arms around you. “My baby girl,” he chuckled.

“Dad!” you retorted, but laughed nonetheless. There is time for that endearment. “When did you arrive?” you asked as both of you pulled away.

“Earlier,” he saied as he muffled your hair. “I didn’t tell your mom, either.” As he said that, Mother occured from the kitchen with a spatula in hand.

“Time for dinner,” she announced with a smile.

Ah, that rare smile from her lips. Father was the only living thing who could pull up the edges of her mouth like that. It was refreshing to behold.

Father picked up the bags from the ground. “You carried all these by yourself?” he asked.

You automatically flustered. The image of Hendery carrying all you have bought earlier flashing back in your head without permission. “Y… yeah.”

It wasn’t as if they are illiberal when it comes to boys. But it was a topic you haven’t discussed with any of them yet.

“Hm, we really ought to buy a motorcycle, don’t you think?”

You turned to face him. “It would be convenie—”

“Who would drive? Me?” Mother interrupted. “Our daughter?”

Father placed the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Yes. Y/N is a fast-learner. She could defini—”

“I’m sorry but it is a no.” Mother smiled again, but there was an edge to it. “It is inappropriate for a lady to drive—”

“Who says?” you groaned. “It’s 2040, Mother.”

Mother crossed her arms over her chests. “And where would you go once you learn how to drive?”

You pursed your lips. Saying the word would only extend the argument. But it needs to be heard. “Perhaps then I could go to the city—”

“What?!” she exclaimed.

“... and study,” you finished.

Father cleared his throat. “That’s a good idea, actually.” He turned his head towards Mother. “Don’t you think?”

Mother made out an incredulous noise from her nose. “No, I don’t think so. The city is still contaminated with the virus and hedonism. There is no way I’m letting you—”

“Develop on my own?” you asked.

It had always been an argument: your dreams. And Mother always says no to every step you’d attempt to achieve them. You loved her dearly. But sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed of her decisions when it comes to your life. You were an adult— a capable adult. And yet you felt as if someone had clipped your wings before you could fly. It hurts to know that that someone was your own mother.

“Y/N!” she hissed, her eyebrows knitted together.

Father held up his hands. “There is no need for us to raise our voices. We can discuss this in peace,” he said.

But Mother wouldn’t back down. “There would be no discussion. I won’t allow it.” Then she turned on her back to finish preparing the food.

You looked down at the floor, eyes suddenly breaming with tears. This conversation had never failed to put you to misery.

“Cheer up,” Father whispered. “We’ll find a way.”

No. You will.

The next day, you couldn’t help but frown upon your reflection in the mirror. Same robes, same skirts, same hairstyle. There was nothing new.

You loved being a sacristan. You have devoted yourself in serving God and His Son, Jesus Christ. You have never missed a mass. It was a part of your life that won’t ever disappear. But duty and dream aren’t the same thing.

You have your duty to God, that you diligently and wholeheartedly accomplished for the last few years. But there was your dream, hanging like a blank canvas on the wall of your bedroom.

The village was your serenity. But the city holds everything that you have ever wanted.

Dare.

You harshly brushed your hair and fix your robe. The bones under your skin are unstoppable. You only have to dare. So with a deep intake of breath, you departed your bedroom, kissed both your parents’ cheek, and ran towards the Church. Where everything was going to happen.

Seeing Hendery casually sipping on his cigarette while leaning on the tree has put your rushing feet in a halt.

This boy. Always so alluring, always so mysterious, always so stubborn.

Hendery remained staring at the ground when you sauntered up to him. It would feel as if you were back on the day you first met him. When he exuded such obscurity that you found him irritatingly blurry yet interesting.

What happened yesterday still lingers in the back of your mind. Perhaps you should talk to him about it to quench  your interest. “Hey,” you greeted.

When he looked up, you covered your mouth with your hands in utter stupefaction. “What happened to you?!” you blurted out.

There were purple patches on the bone underneath his right eye and another on the side of his lips. Did the bandit get back to him yesterday? The thought made your stomach lurched.

“You look devastated,” Hendery commented.

You blinked. It was him who looked like an absolute wreck right now. How could he tell you that? “No. You are.”

“You are.” Hendery toucheed your chin to lift up your face. You let him. “See? It’s missing,” he said while staring at you.

His stare made you nervous. But you couldn’t look away. “What is?”

Hendery let his hand fall before he answers, “The fire in your eyes.”

The fire in your eyes. For the second time, you blink at him. You were a lover of poetry. Hearing this boy talk as if he had the verses of the universe in his tongue perhaps set your heart in a panic.

Sad eyes, bad guys, and a mouthful of verselet. You once thought someone like him won’t sweep you on your feet. Knowing that you were mistaken has left a bittersweet taste in your tongue. It was, indeed, beautiful to feel this way. This feeling you have for Hendery was a flower beginning to turn into a fruit. So fragile, yet so heavenly.

Would it be ready for the plucking?

You gulped. “Did the bandit get back to you yesterday?”

“This is nothing,” he said. “I found myself in a brawl yesternight. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You raised a brow. “I am not worried.”

That was his cue to laugh before puffing his cigarette again. “One hell of a heartless woman.”

“I am not heartless.”

Hendery looked affronted. “Really? Prove it, then.”

“Prove it?” You let out an incredulous sound. Then you crossed your arms over your chests. “How?”

“Admire me back.” He tossed his cigarette bud away. “Simple as that.”

Admire me back. You gaped at him, unable to form lucid words. What was that? Did he really ask you to admire him… back? “Is that…” you paused, “Is that a confession?”

Hendery placed the tip of his pointer finger against your forehead. Then he pushed lightly. However, he didn’t answer, he only walked past you. “You’re pretty unique,” he added. “I like your fire.”

“Wait!”

You ran for him. You have no idea what it was, but talking to Hendery has stirred the emotion you once felt earlier before leaving the house. The extreme drive to do something you haven’t done before and prove your mother that you are worthy of being left alone with your decisions.

Hendery turned to you. “What? Have you reciprocated my feelings alr—”

“Take me to the city,” you panted.

His smile grew wider. And the stars in his eyes shone, rivaling the blare of the sunlight above. “That’s better.”

viii. And His Kingdom would have no end…

A month ago, you would never have imagined yourself going out of the village. But here you wee, riding with a boy you only met four weeks ago, in his black and shiny motorcycle that was like a much safer version of a Harley. However, it didn’t lessen the agitation in your heart.

After years since you were born, this would be your first time to see the world beyond your village. You didn’t expect it to be beautiful. Since a global pandemic has swept through the continents twenty years ago. But you could say it was something you didn’t expect to behold either.

Copse of trees became a blur of brown and green as Hendery picks up the pace. There was nothing to see but the unending stretch of tall grasses and trees and the isolated road ahead. There weren’t even streetlights to guide you back later.

The wind slapped your face, with it the grimy feeling of running at 60 kilometers per/hour, and sniffing Hendery’s virile scent.

Hendery sure drives like the road was his and he’s alone in the world.

For this adventure, you refused to wear any helmet at all. It took minutes of disagreement, but Hendery had come in peace with it. If this was the first time you were riding towards the city— a place as strange to you as anything in the world— you wanted to caress it with your whole body. After all, this was an event more special than your own birthday.

As Hendery revved the engine faster, your grip on his torso tightened. Nonetheless, you bite your tongue to stop the squeal that was threatening to come out of your mouth. You will brave this ride. And there was nothing that would stop you from relishing this feeling.

All your trust and all your hopes of a safe travel were in Hendery’s hands today. And if you were to be honest, a sliver of doubt still flows in your veins. It has to be normal for a village girl to feel this way. Hendery could be infuriating at times, and he sure has this mysterious secret in his eyes, but he’s never done you anything hideous. Or perhaps you were only a naive girl, too blinded by ambitions and the overflowing courage in your heart, that you walked right into the devil’s trap.

You sent a silent prayer to God to guide you safely despite breaking the rules of your parents.

Slowly, the copse of trees became an expanse of water. Then you were traveling on a bridge, with a river below you. Busses, cars, and motorcycles alike run along the bridge, adding much to your adrenaline. You couldn’t remember the last time you have seen a bus. Perhaps it was when the students from the city took a trip to your village.

You turned your head to see the water. Few birds were flying as well as diving into the water to catch some fish. The wind coming from it was briny and sticky. But you loved it nonetheless.

Then the tall buildings loomed ahead, at the edge of the bridge. You cannot help but gape at it. How isolated have you become to marvel at tall buildings? Embarrassed as you were, you didn’t let it douse out your excitement.

Hendery slowed down as you meet the highway. On the pavements there walked the passersby. Some were hurrying, some were jogging with their dogs. Inside the coffee shops were lovers laughing while sipping on their drinks.

Despite the pandemic, the city felt alive. It thrummed with an energy you haven’t experienced before. It made you feel dizzy with excitement.

“It’s two p.m.,” Hendery stated before parking his motorcycle in a dead alley.

You hopped off. “Won’t you get in trouble parking here?” you asked, roaming your eyes around the two buildings covering the alleyway. In the village, there would be no problem parking your car wherever. But as far as you were concerned, city policies were different.

Hendery snickered. “Nobody would dare.”

By that, you raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Nevermind.” Then he faced you with a smile. “Where do you wanna go?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not from here. You’re supposed to show me around.”

He feigned laughters. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. But—” Hendery raised his pointer finger as if in warning. “May I warn you that I’m not a ferris wheel type of guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m adrenaline embodiment.” Then he grabbed your shoulder softly and guided you towards the buzz of people.

As you walked with Hendery on the side streets, you looked up to the sky. It was gray but bright nonetheless. The type of weather wherein you wouldn’t know if it would rain or the clouds were only keeping the sun away.

Different honk of cars resonated everywhere, with the giggles of students as they walk home. There were teenagers sitting on the narrow alleyway, their clothes black and their pants ripped. You regarded them with narrowed brows. Then the two teenagers kissed.

“Oh,” you gasped as you cover your eyes. It felt private, albeit the fact that they were kissing in a public place.

Hendery chuckled. “That’s like, level 0.1 of the things that happens there.”

Before you could ask him what did he mean for the nth time that day, Hendery held your hand and tugged you. “See that sign up there?”

He stood extremely close to yours. Strands of his hair flew towards the sides of your face. You gulped before following his pointer finger with your eyes. He was pointing at the sign across the street. It was surrounded by different types of people, but students dominated the whole entrance. Above their heads was a huge sign board that says ‘Wonderland’.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “What is it about?”

“It’s a circus,” Hendery said as he turned to look at your face, “Last to arrive pays for the tickets. Deal?”

“Wha— wait! That’s not fair!” you shouted when he bolts away.

Hendery took a look at you while laughing. His hair obscuring his eyes. “Run!”

You exhaled sharply before gathering your skirts and running towards him. As your shoulders slammed to different bodies, you shout apologies on your wake. If this was a normal day, you would have to stopped and say your apologies with a bow. But this wasn’t a normal day. And Hendery didn’t even bother to stop even if he had to push students out of his way.

However, he drew in a halt as a little girl suddenly appears from a boutique. Hendery was still ahead of you by five steps, but because of the circumstances, you tapped his shoulder and run past him.

At last, it was time for you to cross the streets. The streetlight says red. You muttered, “Green, green, gree—”

“Didn’t take you for a… runner,” Hendery breathed with his hands on the sides of his waists as he stood beside you.

You ignored him. Then the lights went green. You stormed away from him, dodging the elders crossing the street. Hendery laughed behind you. And he was extremely close.

With one last force of a leg, you jumped the one meter distance from the pavement to the entrance line of the circus. “I won!” you shouted in triumph.

Hendery shook his head, disbelief visible in his face. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered.

“A ticket for two,” you taunted, displaying two fingers in front of him. “The deal is the deal.”

Hendery sighed and fished for his pocket. Perspiration trickled down your back as you follow Hendery towards the ticket booth. After he received the tickets, he handed you his kerchief. “For your sweat.”

You immediately raised your hands. “Oh, no! It’s okay!”

Hendery tilted his head to the side. “You are sweltering like a waterfall. Here, let me,” he said before pulling you and patting the kerchief to your forehead.

You looked away blinking, unable to form words as you felt the fabric pressing softly on your skin. As if you were a thin, breakable glass he feared that might break if he wasn’t careful. “Thanks,” you whispered when Hendery finally folded back the kerchief to his back pockets.

Both of you turned and faced the entrance of the circus.

The door opened, revealing two little person wearing brightly colored jumpers. Their faces were made up to copy the image of a clown. Both of their heads look up, then they scrunched their noses, clearly irritated of a customer.

“Come in,” they blabbered in unison.

You looked at Hendery. He had that same smile on his face when he walked through the turnstile.

The hallway that displayed itself in front of you were made of corrugated roof ceiling and walls. You felt as if you were in a box.

Different posters of performers adorned the corrugated roof walls. There is the two little person, on their jumpsuits, balancing themselves on a large ball. At your right side, there is the image of a mermaid. Of course, circus such as this one would have a fake mermaid. Then there is an image of a man playing with fire.

You cannot help but stare in awe. You have a knowledge of circuses since you have read books and watched movies to have a distinct image of it in your mind. However, you haven’t really experienced one.

Hendery walked beside you, not bothering to see the posters plastered on the wall. That gave you a hint that maybe he has been in Wonderland already. He was born here in the city after all.

“How many times have you been here?” you decided to ask, voice echoing through the hallway.

“Too many times to count.”

The two little person opened another door. You gaped in astonishment as you take in the picture of the whole circus. Lambent lights hung in different trees, giving the whole area a soft glow.

There wre families resting under the trees and students hopping to different food carts to another. It was a whole new world in the middle of the city. And it was so lively that you feel the energy thrumming in your veins.

Hendery stared. Not at the circus, but at you. Pure amazement adorned your face. And perhaps your eyes twinkled brighter than the lights, too. Hendery couldn’t help but smile. It was somewhat fulfilling taking in your expression. He took you for a woman difficult to impress. Yet he was mistaken. There was that glow in you that he hasn’t seen before in anyone else’s eyes.

And for the first time in twenty years, Hendery has seen the rainbow he was waiting for. It wasn’t in the end of the pandemic. It’s in you.

When you craned your neck to look at him, Hendery blinked and looked away, his heart thudding madly inside his chest.

He couldn’t believe it. This feeling. For someone as sinful as him, Hendery had never expected to feel this type of… fondness.

“I thought you weren’t a ‘ferris wheel’ guy?” You lifted a brow while quoting the air.

The ferris wheel was located at the very corner of the circus’ vicinity. As if on cue, Hendery’s childhood memories weaved their way back to his mind. The laughters of his father and his own giggles whenever they would ride the said ferris wheel.

After seconds of being taciturn, Hendery answered, “I’m not.”

“Really?” you teased. “You needn’t deny it!”

Hendery placed a hand above your head and ruffled your hair. “Come, I’ll show you around.” Then he stretched his hand to you.

Clearly flustered, you stared at his outstretched hand for a minute. You wrapped your hand with his. Taking his hand felt as if a manifold of experiences in itself, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

Both of you entered the tent where the mermaid perfoms. Of course, she was fake. But the craftmanship of her tail almost made you doubt your own eyes. It was simply marvelous.

Next that you visited was the fire-breathing man. The thing was, he was extremely talented and… cute. However, when you mentioned it to Hendery, his amazement deterred and he pulled you out of the tent.

Now you stood in front of a food cart, trying to pick between corndog or fries. You chose fries with lemon iced-tea. Hendery preferred the former.

“We need to go home,” you said while looking up at the sky. There wasn’t any brightness in the heavens any more, only darkness. The stars were hidden in the clouds, which give an ominous sign that it might rain.

And you couldn’t afford to rain. Your mother would go nuts. But then you thought how you have already defied her. Might as well enjoy the night, right? You heaved a sigh. No. You have to go home.

“Yes,” Hendery sighed. He was looking at the heavens, too.

Contemplative of the adventure you have experienced today, you looked at Hendery. Four weeks ago, you have resented his presence in the church because of your own preconceptions. But if this boy beside you didn’t arrive, you wouldn’t have the courage to defy your mother and finally go to the city.

In spite of everything, the saying proves true— that someone could go rebellious if ensnared for a long time. Yes, it was not pleasant to flout parents, but this freedom… you almost felt like a bird with its wings spread wider.

Hendery shifted, then he turned to face you. “Just one last destination.” He spoke the word with a certain anticipation. How could you deny him the chance?

Then you departed the circus.

“Is this safe?” you asked Hendery while you climbed the stairs of an unknown building near the alleyway where he parked his motorcycle.

“Yeah,” Hendery hummed. “This seems empty but trust me, this could be a party place.”

When he said that, you noticed the littered cigarettes in the corners. There were candy wrappers… and some rubber that you had no name for.

“This place is creepy,” you announce when you reach the last set of stairs.

Hendery’s laugh echoed through the empty place. “It’s not,” he said before pushing open a door that leads somewhere.

“A rooftop,” you stated as a-matter-of-factly. Your boots made a clocking noise against the pavement as you walk towards the railings. You stared in awe as different lights from the stores below twinkled like fireflies.

The darkness intensified the colors of everything. The city wasn’t perfect, but was beautiful at this time of the day. With the wind softly nuzzling your face, you breathed a sigh of relief at everything.

“This is beautiful,” you said in utter adoration.

Hendery leaned and grabbed the railings. His floppy hair dancing with the wind, once again falling down his eyelids. “It is,” he breathed.

At the horizon, some far away land stared at you, probably wondering of your unfamiliar face, too. There were mountains and there were also lights flickering from it. The sky was a darker shade of magenta turning black. It’s a pity that there were no stars to grace the heavens.

“Thank you, Hendery,” you whispered.

Hendery looked at you, a smile adorning his lips. “For you.”

Your shoulders brushed against each other, sending your heart into a marathon again. Then you sighed a heartful one. “I want to live here.”

“Really? This was only a façade, though. Bad things crawls out in this city.”

Bad things. There were bad things all around the world, though. “In the village, too,” you muttered, “Bandits. Everywhere.”

“Yeah. Bandits,” he repeated with the same contemptuous voice.

“What do you like most about this city?” you decided to ask. He’s from here. And he won’t stay if he doesn’t find anything beautiful here, right?

Hendery’s eyes were looking at the horizon while he answered, “My…” Then you notice the curvature of his throat as he gulped. “The memories of my family.”

Something inside you insisted to ask him further. So you opened your mouth to speak. “Where are they?”

Hendery displayed a painful smile before a chuckle resonated through him. “My dad died because of the pandemic, and my mom… she’s missing.”

You tasted something bitter in your mouth by the revelation. You shouldn’t have asked. Then you placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” The boy tried to smile when he looked at you. But an old pain still sparked in his eyes.

People tend to say it’s okay even when it’s not. You supposed it’s one of the ways for them to cope. Instead of forcing Hendery, you tried to smile for him, too.

“And your mother.” You cleared your throat. “Just ask me if you need any help.”

“Thank yo—” Hendery’s words were interrupted by the large pitter patters of the rain.

You gasped and shielded your head. Hendery does the same. Then the both of you run towards the building. The ravaging of the rainfall could be heard against the ceilings. It was the sound that pierces the ears. And you were afraid that it’s not going to stop any sooner.

“We have to go home,” you said while biting your nail.

“We can’t,” Hendery pronounced with a shrug.

You sighed deeply, forcing your knees to stand still. “My mother would kill me.”

Even though there was absolute dread to the words, you couldn’t feel any regret. You would’ve done it all over again if given the chance.

“You can call her,” Hendery suggested. “There’s a payphone down the next block.”

She would go absolutely unhinged once she knew about your whereabouts. But you have to at least tell her. Or lie about it. There was no other choice.

You mentally memorized your mother’s cellphone number. She has one, to contact father whenever he’s away. But she barely uses it.

“Let’s go,” you said.

While descending the stairs of the abandoned building, you thought about ways on how to dodge your mother’s possible questions. Lying has left a burning sensation in your chests. But it was the only way. And if it would somehow save you from the doom of being whip to shreds, you’d gladly do it.

Hendery offers you his leather jacket to use as an umbrella. You would have refused, but the rain was falling heavily. You cover your head before running.

When you reached the payphone, Hendery was drenched from head to toe. Due to some miracle that you couldn’t describe yourself, your corsage remained dry.

You delved for a coin inside your pockets and slid it with shaky fingers. Trying to squeeze himself inside the payphone, Hendery stoof mere inches away from you. Your chests too close to each other. Flustered, you focused on the phone still ringing against your ear instead of your bodies’ proximity.

You heard the click of the phone from the other line then the sound of your mother’s voice. “Hello?” she answered.

Running a damp hand through your hair, you gulped and said, “Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N?” You could see her eyebrow raising in your mind. And that made you even more agitated. Mother wasn’t easily convinced. You would need to slid through a needle’s hole if you ever wish to successfully lie to her.

“Yes, Mom. I’m here— at—” You bit your thumbnail as you realize that you cannot truly deceive her.

“Where are you?” she asked, “Why is it so loud in there?”

Shoot. The harsh sound of the rain was, of course, loud. And it probably wasn’t raining that hard to the village or not at all. You needed to think.

“Mom— I— I have an errand to run for Father Ben,” you lied. “And… well… I am in the market. And—” You take a deep breath. “I don’t think I would be able to come home tonight—”

“What?” she said with a voice louder than the rain. “What errand? And why aren’t you coming home?”

“Mother, it’s strictly confidential!” You added just enough panic to your voice to make your deceit more convincing. “And Father Ben told me not to tell anyone—”

“Well, I am your mother so I deserve—”

“Hello? Mother? Mom? I can’t hear you!”

“Y/N—”

“Alright, Mother. I’ll take care! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You dropped the phone immediately, not letting your mother say a word any more. Drawing ragged breaths, you let your back rest on the cold glass encasing the payphone. Then a laughter seized your attention. It was Hendery.

Baffled, you raised a brow. “What’s funny?” you asked, but you had a feeling that you know the answer to your own question. He found it amusing, your panicked conversation with your mother.

Hendery tried to shrug despite his laughter. “I just find it amusing,” he says as his glee receded. You glared at him, but the boy only pointed his finger right in front of your nose. “Now, quit being so strung up.”

“I am not,” your affronted reply. But he was right, your stomach was still tied in knots after the conversation. It was as if your mother would appear in front of you out of nowhere.

You looked at your surroundings. The buildings still towers over you. The road was drenched with rainwater and it didn’t seem to stop any time soon.

“Where do we sleep?” you asked Hendery, embarassed of the realization that you have no idea about the city and where you were supposed to sleep now that you were stuck in an unfamiliar place.

“‘We’?” he teased, “That sounds nice—”

“Hendery!” You hit his arm lightly, eliciting yet another fits of laughter from him.

“I know some place,” he said, “Don’t worry.”

You shrugged. “Well, aside from the fact that I wasn’t from here... and it’s my first time venturing to the city— yeah,” you sighed, “I really shouldn’t worry.”

He seemed not to sense the sarcasm lying within your words for he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got me. I won’t let anyone harm you, alright?”

Ah, the vulnerability in a rather cold façade. It’s marvelous to behold. You couldn’t help but smile. Romance books were true, after all. Once an aloof boy shows some affection, it really feels like lying in a field of cotton.

“You have to promise,” you said. Hendery opened his mouth to speak his oath, but you offered him your pinky finger instead. “Lock it.”

Hendery stared at your hand for a good minute before exhaling a ruminative sigh. Then he placed his pinky finger against yours. The both of you entwined your finger in a lock.

“Ah,” he sighsd at the sight of your coiled fingers, “You really are something else.”

If he was talking about the pinkies, you weren’t so sure how did he consider it something else. It was probably childish, yes, but on other spectrum of things, children rarely lies. That somehow strengthened his promise; the childishness yet purity of it all.

“Yes,” you said, a bit proud of the compliment, “I really am.”

You were in an unknown place, hugging the torso of a boy as you rode with him on his motorcycle. The lights of the cars the only lambency there is in an isolated road.

It should bother you— this unfamiliarity clinging in your bones. But all you could feel was the burning sensation of thrill as it flows in your veins; this strange freedom.

The night was a cacophony of rainwater splashing to everything it touches. With your body pressed against Hendery’s back, both of you braved the unforgiving rain. It was surely the night that would go down to your own history.

“Where are we going?” you asked, giving way too little acknowledgement to your soaked clothes and clattering teeth.

A new empty alleyway greeted you as Hendery turned left with his engine the only noise in the dead of the night. White street lights flicker as he slows down, then you come to a halt in front of an empty gasoline station.

Irradiant glow of pink and orange LED lights adorned the signage plastered above the store. At the sides of the vicinity, rows of motel rooms could be seen. Hendery killed the engine, then both of you hop off his motorcycle.

“Wait! I... I don’t have the money—” you tried to argue, but the boy only flashes you his most beautiful smile.

Still smiling, Hendery held your hand and you both ran to the columns of motel rooms. He roamed his eyes everywhere. When he saw no one, Hendery tugged you softly towards the stairs up to the second floor.

Now, there was no light adorning the second floor of the motel. But the glow of the moonlight casted its illumination towards the place, making a slanted shadow on the walls.

“How do we—”

Hendery turned to you and quickly placed a finger to your lips. “Shh,” he shushed.

There was something about the glint in his eyes that made you agitated and even excited. If both were possible to feel at the same time. Mischief oozes its way out of his body as Hendery pulls a piece of a metallic wire from his pockets. He, then, curled the wire with his fingers. Once done, Hendery inserted the wire to the doorknob.

“Hend—”

For the third time, he cut you off. “Trust me.”

In his eyes, something stirred. You caught a glint of it because of the moon. Hendery knows what he was doing, and it looks as if he’s done this a million times already.

You pressed your mouth in a thin line. Rubbing your hands against the skin of your arms, you look around while Hendery works his wonders to the door.

505, that was the number plastered above the doorframe. The room number.

Within a few minutes, there was a click. Then the door opened in front of you to reveal a typical motel room.

There was a bed near the blinds, then a bedside table. A 1960’s model of RCA television sat at the edge of the mattress, with a single ottoman beside it. The room had also been illuminated by a single deep yellow bulb.

It was 2040. Whatever remnants of 2020 remains, it doesn’t look like this. Motel rooms were a thing eighty years ago. However, you couldn’t complain. You have been wanting to sleep in a room such as this one. People can call you hopeless romantic, but that was the truth. There was a certain vintage love surrounding motel rooms which you yearned to experience yourself.

You looked at Hendery, who was currently standing beside you with a rascal grin on his lips. He was definitely proud of what he did. Notwithstanding of the circumstances, and of the fact that you have just sneaked into a private property, you couldn’t help but grin yourself.

This was way out of the rules of being a sacristan. And you would get a whole mass worth of scolding if Father Ben knew about your adventures today. Despite all of that, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of happiness and pride in doing what you did today.

“I assume this isn’t paid?” You raised a brow.

Hendery shook his head with a small chuckle. “Obviously.”

“Aren’t we gonna get in trouble doing all... this?” you asked him, voice laced with skepticism. Bold as you were, the thought of going behind bars in an unknown place still gives your heart a little bit of a jolt.

“We’re already in trouble,” Hendery said  nonchalantly, “Might as well enjoy it.” He placed his hand on your shoulders as he searched for your eyes. “Besides, this doesn’t happen all the time.”

You stared at the depths of his orbs. There seemed to be a permanent mark of roguishness dancing in his eyes that you only notice now.

What devilment in an angelic face. Bemusing as it was, you loved it. This Hendery.

“To me,” you said, “But you’re from here. And from

the looks of it, you’ve done this a million times before.”

Hendery’s shoulder shook from his laughter. He laughed so much for someone with sad eyes. “Yes. I won’t deny it. But this isn’t for me, though. This adventure is for you.”

It’s funny how a stranger could give you all you have ever wanted in a single day. By that alone, you knew that you would forever be grateful of this boy in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “So much, Hendery.”

You didn’t know what it was, but Hendery lost his composure as his mouth gaped open a little bit. The sincerity of your voice moved him and made his knees weak.

This has been the first time he heard the words from someone. All he had known were the frightened prayers every time he would point a gun to someone, the muffled cries, the tear stained cheeks. It’s his first time to see sincerity to someone else’s eyes that was meant for him.

Perhaps you have seen it, too— the perplexity in his expression, the slight glitch of his demeanor. And it made your heart happy to see that you have affected him as much as he has affected you.

Hendery leaned closer, his face utterly close that you could make up your reflection in his eyes by the dim light of the light bulb.

He gulped, you did too.

It would deem as if no one amongst you had the experience of this... intimacy. No one had come close to your defenses but him. It rattled your bones underneath. And perhaps the world stilled when your lips met his.

It’s exactly like those in a romantic movie. It wasn’f rash, it wasn’t blistery. It’s soft... it’s heavenly. The kiss would compare to cotton touching another cotton. Both of your eyes were still open as you tried to savor the kiss. You were still thunderstruck beyond comprehension, but your lips were glued to his and there seemed no turning back. Not that you’d like too, anyways.

Hendery cupped your cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes. In the blink of a moment, the kiss went wild. Now you would compare it to a sea under a storm. Raging and unforgivable.

You hadn’t noticed how your back had come into contact with the bed. But the surprisingly soft mattress hugged your back as Hendery lays you down slowly.

Your heart had its own business thudding harmoniously wild inside your chest with the kiss.

Hendery pulled away. You felt your plump lips and his had been red, too. With a second of eye contact, Hendery leaned and kissed you again. With the same fervor, with the same hunger.

Your hand shot up to his hair. The sound of someone kissing and your attempts to catch your breaths against the kiss, the only thing that could be heard inside 505.

His hands started to roam your body. His touches were like that of devotees; careful, with little prayers in every friction.

Lips a mere inch from each other, Hendery whispered with a raspy tone. “May I?”

You were here, and you were ready to do whatever this kissing ends up to. So you nodded.

He smiled while the moonlight caressed half of his face.

Then he brought his fingers to the laces of your corsages. With deft motion of a hand, Hendery pulled, the laces had come free, opening your collar bones and upper chests for him to see. The reveal of the skin made your breath hitch.

Hendery brought his fingers to the open skin, then he trailed— slowly, oh so slowly— downwards. As if your skin was Braille.

He kissed you. He whispered his confession in your ears. He touched you like he longed for you. He cried your name in a euphoric bliss.

That night, you weren’t a sacristan. You were a saint. Worshipped by a boy with the devil in his eyes.

But nobody— not even the moonlight slipping through the windows — told you about the doom that awaits your blooming love.

It was past four in the morning when you wake up. The room was dark, with the heavy light from the skies illuminating the floors through the blinds.

Hendery lied on the bed beside you. The light casted parallel lines on his bare chests and stomach. While you laid on your side, your hands between your thighs and a smile on your lips.

Hendery leaned to trace your shoulder up to your cheek, sending goosebumps down your back. Then he whispered the words, “You’re so beautiful.”

You would’ve hit him with a jest, but your breath seems to clogged in your throat. Pure words for someone with jagged edges. Then you suddenly noticed his tattoo. You still didn’t know what that meant. So you reached out your hand and traced his skin.

“What does your tattoo means?” You asked him.

Hendery held your hand that was tracing his tattoo when he answered. “Survive. To live.”

ix. I believe in the Holy Spirit...

“You really don’t have to, Hendery,” you timidly stated.

Hendery sighed, but his smile never disappeared. “You know I won’t let you go, right?”

It’s six a.m., the both of you have already finished donning your clothes. Some parts of the fabrics were still sodden, but nevertheless wearable. You picked up a lone thread from your skirt before standing up and facing the window. The dream was finished, and you needed to wake up now.

A sigh went past your lips as you stared at the horizon displayed before your eyes. You weren’t sure when you would experience this kind of freedom again, so it was better to seize the remaining moments of not being trapped into a cage that was your own house by taking in the view of a small part of the city.

Hendery stood beside you, his eyes far away. “How do you feel?” he asked.

A sudden heat crept up in your cheeks by the question. The unbidden imagery of last night threaded its way back in your mind. Did you regret doing it with Hendery? Not one bit. Some might call you stupid for falling in a love supported by unspoken promises and confessions, but the union with Hendery have made you feel whole somehow. Like you were in the skies, and the stars were about your reach.

He made you feel powerful. He made you feel worthy of devotion. He made you feel utterly you. No inhibitions, no pretense.

The honesty slid smoothly from your lips. “I feel incredible,” you answered. You turned sideways to face him. Hendery’s face was ethereal in the night, especially when his lips were parted, sweats trickling down his face. But as the early light of the morning hit his features, you couldn’t believe that he could even be this more beautiful.

“How about you?” you managed to ask.

A chuckle. Your heart made the familiar jump at the sound. “I’ve never felt this happy for years.” And it was the truth. Hendery thought that the money and power a banditry offers would give completion in his life somehow, that it would serve as stitches for his tattered life. But as he recalled everything that has happened since he met you, he might be stupid, but he knew real happiness when it’s staring back at him in the wee hours of the morning.

He would’ve bottled the sound of your pleas and your cries if he would, he would’ve kept your laughters in a treasure chest buried someplace else he only knew, he would’ve given you everything and anything— and perhaps he did— if he could. As he stared at your face, so goddamned innocent and peaceful, Hendery knew one thing: you would break him into pieces, and he would let you.

A smile painted your lips, erasing the agitation of what this new day would bring. “I wouldn’t have experienced all of this if not for you,” you told him.

Hendery laughed. “You wouldn’t have experienced all of this if you didn’t dare.”

That was him: the beam that was supporting your life. He’s never failed to make you feel as if you could do everything despite the odds.

Your smile widened. “But now we have to go back.”

“Yeah, unfortunately—” Hendery’s words were cut off by the sound of the bedroom door clicking.

Your eyes widened, but he kept a cool façade. Then it swung open, revealing a middle-aged man carrying a broomstick and a dustpan. His forehead creased as he saw you standing near the window, then realization hit him. “Who are you?!” he shouted.

Hendery gripped your hand, then he dashed for the door, pulling you behind him. The helper was too dumbstruck to even say a thing again, let alone stop you from sprinting away. Hendery was laughing all the way down the stairs, while your forehead was coated with little beads of sweat.

When you reached his motorcycle, Hendery let go of your clammy hand. “That was... incredible!” he gleefully stated.

You tried to catch your breath by gulping large bouts of air. “That was scary!” you told him after steadying your breath.

Hendery fished for his keys from the back pocket of his jeans while still laughing. “Sacristan girls,”

he muttered teasingly.

Rolling your eyes heavenwards, you crossed your arms over your chests. “You don’t have to be a sacristan to know what’s scary or not.”

Once again, the roar of the innkeeper echoed across the gasoline station, bringing you on a hurry to climb Hendery’s motorcycle. With a chuckle, he ignited the engine and revved through the day.

The city was deserted early in the morning. And it was undeniably dull. The paint from different buildings were chipped, and they could really use a renovation. You were baffled at how you didn’t notice the dullness yesterday. Perhaps it was your excitement getting the best of you. Humdrum as it was, this city would forever hold a special place in your heart, along with the man you have traveled here with.

The ride back home was enveloped in utter silence, not that you could hear each other over the loud blare of the motorcycle’s engine. And as you neared to the village, your heart couldn’t help but thud abnormally inside your chests. You felt as if your throat was constricting, air passage clogging. It would deem as if there was an apocalypse waiting for you back home.

No. You have to trust your intuitions, no matter how indistinguishable it was. Your mother knew you were safe, there wasn’t anything to fret about.

But you knew better than to calm down. Your father was a lot easier to convince than your mother, you let your heart loosen up by that fact, even just a little bit.

With the empty and bumpy road ahead of you, the familiar stillness of the village welcomed you back home. A sense of familiarity splashed on you at the sight of tall trees and green meadows. This has been what you have known all your life, you were coming back to it after a night of pretermitting.

“Stop right there,” you said in a voice so low even you had a hard time hearing the words.

Hendery knew that you would never allow him to be seen in the village, much worse with you. But after last night, a slight stab in his heart bloomed at the thought of you, not being able to introduce him to your parents just because he rides a shiny-black motorcycle.

And as if you heard his thoughts, you cleared your throat before Hendery could kill the engine on the side road. “Or... you could take me home.”

It was stupid. Imbecilic. A voice inside your head whispered that it was a bad idea, but upon seeing how Hendery’s lips turned to a smile by looking at the side mirror, all your fear had been vanquished. Suddenly, you were ready to face the world again.

Your grip on his shirt tightened as you entered the village. It was mid-morning. There were a few elders fanning themselves in their verandas under the blistering weather. They squinted at the sight of you, a sudden contempt in their lips which they conveyed as a frown.

“Turn left,” you mumbled, praying that he heard you just right.

By the silence that was unusual of Hendery to exude, you have contemplated that maybe he was nervous, too. The thought made you slightly giddy and anxious at the same time. You have never brought a man home. Not even introduce a boy friend to your parents. Just when you thought that last night would be a history of your own, this morning has proved you wrong.

Your stomach was empty, but you felt like retching in the bushes as Hendery stopped the engine in front of your house. Mother was tending to her flowers when you hopped off the motorcycle. Father was nowhere to be found.

You looked at Hendery before sauntering towards your mother. The rustle of your feet against the grasses garnered her attention. She looked up to see you, then to the boy beside you.

You walked up towards her to kiss her cheek. Mother stood still as your lips made a friction against her skin. She was looking straight at Hendery, who had a polite smile on his face.

You cleared your throat. “Mother, this is Hendery.”

Hendery stretched out his hand to your mother. “Hendery Wong, pleased to meet you.”

Mother stared at his outstretched hand for seconds. Your knees started to wobble. Then Mother took Hendery’s hand. “I’ll prepare the food,” she said, the tone unfathomable.

When she attempted to leave, Hendery quickly raised his arms as if to stop your mother. “It’s fine, Mrs. I just dropped Y/N off.” He looked at you and nodded his head. “See you at the Church, Y/N,” he said.

Your lips coiled in a frown. The atmosphere was thick, and there was no doubt Hendery felt it. Your mother could’ve been warmer in greeting him, but you knew better than anyone else than to force the time when it obviously wasn’t ready.

With a tone of both reluctance and slight disappointment, you mumbled, “See you.”

He nodded one last time before turning his back and getting on his motorcycle.

The same time Hendery revved the engine once more, your father went out of the house with a glass of cold water in hand. “What’s that about?” he asked.

The garden shovel your mother was holding was dropped as she focused her attention towards you. You braced yourself for the imminent storm that was coming. And there it was, in a voice so loud even the houses nearby grew hairs and got goosebumps, your mother cried out, “What on earth are you thinking?!”

Father sipped on his water, his brows arching above the rim. There was no accusation in his eyes, only interest and confusion.

“What do you mean, Mother?” You tried to make your voice sound strong, but it came out as a breathy question.

“What do I mean?!” she roared. “Where were you last night? Tell me the truth.”

Truth be spoken, you were utterly rebellious to neglect your mother last night. But the wanting to experience something greater for once has overcome all your senses. Was it really abhorrent to experience such freedom?

You could feel your veins popping up your temple. Your breath was becoming ragged. And the stubbornness that was trying to envelope you didn’t help. It felt like a bomb ready to explode at any given moment.

“Where have you been—”

“The city!” you screamed back. “I went to the city with Hendery!”

Mother looked at you with a tormented face. From the way her mouth hung open with her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, you could tell that she’s beyond horrified by the revelation.

“How dare you?” she whispered, “How dare you lie to me?”

Father was on her side instantly, laying a gentle hand on her back. “We all need to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Mother turned to face him. “You’d expect me to calm down when my own daughter defied me?”

You bit your lower lip. What was the big deal? What the fuss was all about? It wasn’t as if you didn’t come home. Here you were, safe and sound.

“I’m sure Y/N could explain herself, right?” Father raised an encouraging brow at you. His lack of judgement pierced your heart with a throb.

“Yeah,” Mother said with enough scorn to make you recoil. “Let her narrate everything!”

You tried to catch your breath before forcing your face to look up to your parents. “What’s so wrong about going to the city?”

“Oh, you are one naive girl,” Mother stated as she made noises in her nose. “You could’ve been infected! You could’ve  brought danger into this home!”

“Mother!” you hissed. “The pandemic has already disappeared! I want to live a normal life now!”

Mother looked at you as if you weren’t her daughter but a mere stranger she’s picked a fight with. “Why are you so foolish and stubborn?”

“Why can’t you let me live my life?” you retorted.

“That’s enough,” Father warned with a commanding tone. His jaw was pulled taut. One more push and the three of you would burn right where you stood because of vexation.

Mother heed no warning for she continued to look at you as if she was contemplating to push you back to her womb. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” You could almost laugh. “I don’t want safe.” I want freedom. I want danger. I want the sin. I want the rush.

“That’s enough talking back, Y/N. Return to your room and change,” Father commanded.

Mother’s lips were compressed in a tight line. You’ve expected her to say something, but no words were heard from her as Father guided her back to the house.

You were left alone in the garden, with your neighbors peeking at their fences to catch gossips.

You wish this world had been a little bit forgiving, a little bit welcoming for boys like him. He wasn’t cruel. He was kind... he was protective. And he was a tether to the dreams that you tried so hard to achieve. Without Hendery— the only person who believed that you were meant for greater things— you wouldn’t know what to make of your life anymore. Sure, you would get back on your feet. But you would never want to feel alone in the battle again. You didn’t want to start empty again. And you would never wish to be parted from Hendery. Ever.

x. The Holy Catholic Church…

“Oh, look who’s finally arrived,” Kun uttered with a shit-eating grin as Hendery appeared in the abandoned building Kun made a rendezvous in the outskirts of the town.

For weeks, they stayed and made their camp here. With Kun occupying the last and only good-conditioned room in the building. There, he’s beaten by Hendery for apparently mowing down Xiaojun’s jaw.

The grin Kun had on his face intrigued Hendery, but he wouldn’t let it show on his face. With inquisition was an annoyance Hendery didn’t know where he came from. It was just there, crawling on his skin. Perhaps it was his encounter with your mother, and the lack of warmth in her welcome.

But could he blame her? Not one bit. Hendery didn’t even think of meeting someone else’s parents and being introduced as a lover, but after getting chummy with you, his aspirations in life went a little higher than what he deserved. Hendery knew that it was a bad thing to be zealous, but that was what he had known after joining Kun’s banditry.

“What’s going on?” he asked, albeit not having the heart to inquire in the first place.

After a day and night with you, Hendery yearned for one thing: sleep. He just couldn’t close his eyes when you were lying on his side, with your peaceful face and soft snores. Hendery wanted to capture every moment, to memorize each line of your face, to be drowned in the serenity of the night.

His other comrades were nowhere to be found which was new. At this time of the day, all of them needed to report their sleuthing of a certain area assigned to them. Kun wanted to know everything.

Kun’s grin only widened. “How’s your job, Hen?”

Hendery ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still trying to make my way onto the priest’s chamber.”

Kun sat up on the swivel chair and placed his feet on the table laid before him. “If I’m not mistaken,” he started, “It’s been months since I sent you to the Church. And until now, you still don’t have anything useful to tell me.”

Hendery’s jaw twitched. He hated how he’s inclined to answer every Kun’s calls. And he had never felt this way before towards his work, that was if you could call banditry a job. He was always the best. That made him Kun’s favorite. But that was before he met you.

Meeting you really had changed most of his beliefs about life. He’s almost convinced to let go of his wretched ways and have a normal way of living— a life he could be proud of. And a life with you.

“Father Ben’s strict,” Hendery lied. The priest was as kind as a deer. If Hendery wished to enter his chamber, he’d gladly let him out of his trusting nature. And that would be the end as well as the start of everything. Hendery still wasn’t prepared to drop the new life he has, because that would mean he has to let you go, too. The mere thought made his stomach recoil.

“Strict?” Kun asked as he raised a playful brow. “But you’re my best asset, Hen. There is no ‘strict’ when it comes to you.”

If these were normal times, Hendery would’ve smirked by the compliment. But he knew what Kun meant. And he’s heard the warning even if it was unspoken.

Months ago, Hendery and Sicheng started searching for places to rob in the isolated villages near the local market. Until they had come across the Church. Upon their nightly visit and hawkshawing, Hendery found out that Father Ben has a golden necklace. The thing has become their target ever since. However, you wouldn’t see Father Ben taking the necklace off. Hendery won’t be able to steal it without violence.

He would’ve finished the work sooner than intended. Besides, he knew brutality like the back of his hand. It had become his armor through the years. And Father Ben didn’t hold a special place in his life, no matter how nonjudgmental the priest was. He could easily wrench the necklace away from his neck without any remorse. But he feared you.

The thought of failing you, of disappointing you, and of showing Hendery’s true colors to you has left his courage dwindling.

What cowardice. He would’ve punched himself unconscious if he could. Hendery wasn’t familiar to this kind of weakness, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Hendery shifted on his seat, shaking off the tension from his body. “The priest was surprisingly guarded,” he lied once more. Father Ben was as permeable as the Church itself. It was Hendery’s own choices that the work has slowed down.

Kun hummed. He withdrew something from his drawers. Picture, Hendery noticed, but he was too tired to even think about its connection to the current discussion. “Perhaps you need some boosters to help you do the work.” Then Kun slowly placed the picture flat on his table. Hendery couldn’t see the image well for he was leaning back on his seat. Kun waved his hand. “Look.”

He knitted his brows together. Whatever it was, Hendery had a bad feeling that once he leaned, there would be no turning back. Nevertheless, he didn’t have much choice, did he? So he leaned, like a good boy that he was, and stared at the image.

Hendery bit back the sound which tried to echo from him at what the image displayed. It was his mother. On a hospital bed, looking withered and close to death. She was too frail. Too weak.

Hendery swallowed a sob. “How...” He gulped a few times before willing himself to continue. “How did you find her?”

Should he be rejoicing? He should be happy, right? But why did he feel miserable now more than ever?

“I told you. I’ll help you find her,” Kun said.

Hendery kept looking at the picture, afraid that it might disappear if he blinked. “Where is she?”

Kun chuckled then stood up. Hendery fought the urge to grab him and punch his face. “You act as if you don’t know how to play this game, Wong.” Kun’s fingers grabbed the edge of the picture. He tucked it inside his pocket, his grin never leaving his face.

Hendery bit the insides of his cheeks. Of course, he knew how this game works. “I’ll bring you the necklace tomorrow.”

That night, Hendery washed away the sleep by downing cups of coffee. The liquid takes its root inside his system, pumping blood in a pace that would keep him awake.

He sat on his made-up bed, with a lamplight beside him, providing little to no warmth against the cold. With a white silky towel in hand, Hendery wiped his handgun. It had been a while since he last pulled the trigger. And the weight was dead in his hand.

Perhaps there was no more redemption left for his torn soul. Perhaps he was only fooling himself in believing that his life could be better. Perhaps he was glued to violence and not even you could save him from it. No matter how hard he tries to believe that you could.

xi. The communion of Saints. The forgiveness of sins…

A knock on your door woke you from your trance. You realized you were looking at your reflection on the mirror mindlessly.

“Come in,” you said, clearly indifferent to the possibility that it might be your mother standing and knocking on the other side of the door. But you knew better. She would never raise the white flag for her daughter.

With one last sweep of your hands along your robes, you waited for your father to finally enter. When he did, he went straight to the bed and sat. He’s cornered you, there was no escaping from it now.

“Spill it, Father,” you mumbled, trying to sound as friendly as possible. It was enough that you have stretched your mother’s irascibility. You didn’t need another enemy in this house.

“You do know why mother’s angry with you, right?” he asked. Before you could answer, he continued, “It’s not just about the fact that you went home with a boy. And that you went to the city without telling us.”

A sighed. Then you whirled to face him. “I don’t understand her need to be angry. I am safe. And if she’s talking about the pandemic... I am alright, Father.”

It was Father’s turn to sigh. “I don’t have anything against you going to the city. I know your dreams, your aspirations. But you must understand that your mother’s protective of you because she loves you. And the pandemic isn’t gone. It’s there, we just don’t see it now since its effects have died down.”

You looked out the window, feeling as if your tears might betray you anytime. “I just want to experience life.”

Father walked up to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I know. Hell, I want you to live life to the fullest, too. Have fun, have mistakes. Kiss boys. Be crazy. But it isn’t the time. Your mother’s still not ready.”

With tears brimming, you looked up to your father. “And when would she be?”

Father smiled his kindest one. “Soon, darling.”

—

Your walking towards the church was occupied with birds chirping in the branches, and flowers blossoming in the meadows. Perhaps it will be a bright day despite the darkness of yesterday.

Hendery never left your mind, even though you have a lot to think about. He was etched in your brain, like some sort of a tattoo you wouldn’t be able to erase. That made you think whether he was thinking about you, too.

You shrugged the thoughts away as you arrived at the Church. It was unusually silent when you arrived. At this time of day, the other sacristan should be running around and helping clean the surroundings. It didn’t settle well with you.

“Kristan!” you called out when you saw him running towards Father Ben’s chamber. Is the priest sick?

Kristan halted to wait for you. You huffed a breath as you laid your hand on his shoulder. “Where is everyone?”

The little boy bit the insides of his cheek. He didn’t meet your eyes when he said, “At Father Ben’s chamber.”

“What are they doing there? And what’s that for?” you asked, regarding the white and clean towel he was holding. Instead of answering, Kristan held your hand and pulled you towards the priest’s chamber.

The little bedroom was jam packed with the sacristans occupying most of the spaces. Father Ben was sitting on his rocking chair, with what you could tell was an ice-cube inside a clean towel being pressed on his left cheek by Lucy.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “What happened here?” you asked particularly no one.

Father Ben winced. “I am alright, hija,” he said. But he looked nothing like that.

Lucy glared your way. Her eyes were full of accusations. “Hendery did this to him,” she practically spat out the words with venom.

Now you couldn’t even feel your heart anymore. Hendery did this? How? Why? Despite feeling numb, you stepped closer to Father Ben. “Hendery... did this?”

How... Why... Gods, why? Father Ben looked at Lucy’s way, then the latter pursed her lips. She washed the cloth into the nearest basin, therefore allowing you to see the cut in Father’s cheekbone.

“He... punched me earlier,” Father Ben said in a low voice. He was undeniably pained by what happened. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, let alone react to something other than a thunderstruck expression. “And he stole my necklace.”

By that, you grabbed the nearest chair and sat. You placed your hand between your chest. This is all too much. Your bones felt like collapsing. “The... the necklace your mother gave you?” you asked this without looking at him. It was hard to do that when you feel responsible for everything that has happened.

No, it isn’t right to hurt yourself like this. But Hendery has been with you since day one. If he planned something as horrible as this, you would’ve known. You should’ve known. How could you be so stupid?

“Yes,” Father Ben breathed as he absentmindedly reached for his necklace. As far as you could tell, the necklace was given to him by his mother when he was little. It was an heirloom of sorts. A treasured legacy.

“How could he do this?” Lucy interrupted. “We welcomed him here. Believing that he was good.”

“It was another thing to steal. And another to hurt someone to rob them,” Rei added.

You really couldn’t blame them. You were in absolute shock to even argue and pretend that Hendery was better than this. They wouldn’t tell you he was the culprit if he wasn’t, right? God, you couldn’t breathe.

“I think he’s a bandit,” Lucy stated once more.

With that, you looked up at her. “That is a grave accusation to make, Lucy.” Now, you are even making excuses for Hendery. You could laugh from your own imbecility.

“Yes. I know,” she said. Then she stood tall. “But what would you have me call him? A grave man deserves a grave name.”

“Perhaps he has his reasons.” Your voice sounded uncertain. For you have no idea what could be the reason behind all this..

Lucy sniggered. “I used to think you were reasonable, Y/N. Don’t stoop so low. He’s hit Father Ben. He’s robbed him. Whatever reason he might have, it was wrong.”

You fell silent. Lucy speaks the truth. Hendery has done something hideous. He could be a bandit all along. He could be the one who’s been robbing the villagers off their small riches all this time. And yet… how? How could he smile at you like he could replace an angel in heaven? How could you be so naive and stupid?

Without your own realization, you have run away from the Church already. To where? You have no idea. But you needed to free the tightening rope inside your chest— you need to salvage your heart off a heartache. Seeing Father Ben dispirited, as well as your co-sacristans, have shot a bullet to your heart.

You felt ashamed and wounded. But before mending your own wounds, you have to search for Hendery first.

xii. The resurrection of the body...

Million thoughts ran in Hendery’s mind as he looked at the emaciated body of his mother lying in a hospital bed. A glass separates them both, but he felt far away to her now than before. She was looking so frail— as if her bones would snap if you did so much as to hold her hand in a featherweight touch.

Her situation pierced Hendery’s heart with a sword. It didn’t matter that he’d found her now. He doesn’t feel happiness for this accomplishment. Misery. Hate. And that hole of missing his mother for years were the only things he could coax himself to feel.

Perhaps he was too far gone because of his loathsome heart. Or perhaps it was because of the teenager standing beside his mother’s bed, sobbing his heart out, while a middle-aged man pats his back to soothe him. As much as Hendery didn’t want to admit it, he could see the same nose and lips that he’s got from his mother in the boy to even deny the truth. He’s his brother. Half-brother.

He balled his hand into fist. Sudden heat coated Hendery’s tear ducts. He swept the lone tear away with his jacket-sleeve. He’s accepted the truth before— he’s made peace of the fact that his mother abandoned him. But why does it hurt to look the truth in the face? She’s cared and loved another son while Hendery longed for her embrace. She’s fed another mouth while Hendery starved in the streets.

Why must the world be cruel?

Hendery stepped back and sat on the chair beside the glass window. He made himself as unimposing as possible until the father and son departed the room. Hendery gathered himself and walked towards the door, towards his mother.  

“A... Alec, is that—” Her mouth abruptly clamped shut as she realized who was standing before her. Without another word, her shoulder shook and there were tears in her eyes.

Hendery looked up, biting his lip. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. “Come on, mom,” he stammered. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me for a long time, right?” Then he looked at her. She was coughing and sobbing now. Hendery had to help her sit up to give her some water.

“Is that really you?” she asked, thin fingers crawling at Hendery’s cheek. Her hand was cold. But it gave Hendery the warmth he was searching for. “Son,” she choked, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice was too weak. Hendery felt like he shouldn’t let her talk. So he shushed her instead. “I...” he stuttered, “I hate you, mom.” That’s it. He won’t hold back. He needs to say it. “I hate you so much. You left me. You left me to die.”

If her mother looked thunderstruck, her sunken eyes didn’t show it. “Hendery, son, I didn’t—”

“I became a bandit to survive. I kill now, mom. I kill so I can live. I kill so I can find you. I’ve asked myself a million times whether it was your fault I became like this.” Hendery snorted at the end. “But it was of my own choice so I couldn’t really blame you, could I? I chose this path to survive.

“I learned how to hold a gun because I need it. I’ve robbed people for money. For my own glory. For you. You left me in the dust. And all my life I’ve wondered why. Why did she leave me? Didn’t she love me? But I’ve thought about it and realized that I don’t need answers. I just need to see you.”

Her mother sobbed again. “I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry— I was scared.”

“Scared,” Hendery repeated. “We would’ve been fine together, mom. You and I.”

“I know,” she choked. “But when your father died— I was scared of the reality that we were alone. During a pandemic. The both of you were hanging on for your lives inside the ICU. And I’d nearly lost my mind.

“When he died, I didn’t have the chance to say good bye. They took him and burned his body. I was alone. Alone, thinking that you could be the next one they’d burn and I won’t have the chance to see your beautiful face for the last time. Instead of facing it all, I called your Aunt. When she came, I left.”

Hendery wanted to tell every abuse he’s gone through with his Aunt. But he didn’t want to remember those times, and he didn’t want to add into his mother’s guilt.

“I’m dying, son,” she whispered.

That, Hendery could tell. There’s a pang in his heart, yes, but he knew that there won’t be happy endings for bad people like him. All of us die in the end, however.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said, “It’s all I’ve ever wished to God every night.”

God. Is this what it feels like to know that someone has been praying for you? He felt... empty. Like everything is too late. The wound has been crawling with worms and there’s no more gauges to stop the pus.  

“Do they... know me?” Hendery asked, voice low.

Her mother pursed her lips together. “No. I haven’t told them about you.”

Of course, Hendery muttered in his mind. He stood up, smoothed his shirt with a forced smile and looked down at his mother. “I’ll better be going, then.”

“Where are you going? Hendery, son...”

Hendery placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I am fine.” Far from it, but you didn’t need to know that, he thought.

His mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, thus accentuating how sunken they’ve become. “Can you... give me a hug?”

Hendery blinked as he did not expect such favor. But he leaned forwards absentmindedly, and hug his mother tightly. He first heard his own sob before realizing that he was crying like a little boy in his mother’s arms. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind. He thought they could still reunite and make a life together. Be away from people. Hendery thought he would take care of his mother until she’s grey and old.

But life has other cruel plans. The path has been twisted years ago. And whatever he could get from this hug, it is enough.

It would be enough.

With an empty mind, Hendery drove through the night. He didn’t know where to go. His mind has been blank since his visit to the hospital.

What does he feel? Fuck, what does he feel? He felt ashamed. For everything that’s happened today. From the way he cornered and punched Father Ben just to get his necklace. He wanted to blur and erase the shame. He wanted to disappear.

Hendery revved the engine. Faster and faster, he drove without destination. The wind got harsher, the night still dangerous. He couldn’t take his mind off Kun’s smile when he finally handed him the golden necklace. Kun tapped his back and congratulated him, his eyes twinkling like stars. Hendery never wanted to see the same sparkle in the man’s eyes anymore.

Then his mind drifted to you. Knuckle white around the accelator, Hendery bottled up the scream that has threatened to explode from him. You. With your kind smile and angelic face. You’re so good. And Hendery let you down. For once, he met someone who was willing to accept his flaws and every bad thing about him. But he answered you with claws.

So after all the disgrace, why did he stop in front of your house?

The village was quiet. No more lights could be seen inside the house. A further indication that you are already asleep. Despite that, Hendery found himself walking towards the small alleyway leading to your room. There’s a tree, beside your window. Hendery hesitated for a moment whether he would knock on your window to wake you up. Besides, he has been reckless with his decisions and he didn’t need you to think of him as a creep.

However, he stood a few meters away from the window. And there, all his muscles strained. He was locked up in his place as his eyes met yours. Donned in your nightgown, you stood there looking outside. Your own eyes turned wide as you realized that Hendery was standing if not in front of you.

He gulped, then quickly pivoted on his heels to walk away. No. He isn’t ready to talk to you tonight. The shame was too overwhelming for him to ignore.

“Hendery!” you screamed, and that would’ve been enough to wake the whole house.

Hendery’s steps faltered.

“Wait for me,” you uttered just enough for him to hear.

He sucked in a breath. No. He couldn’t do this. But before he could decide to run away, a hand tugged him. Hendery faced you. You had your hand in your chest as you tried to calm your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispered. Here you were, standing in front of him under the pale moonlight. Everything would’ve been romantic if not for the circumstances.

“Hendery.” You say his name like he’s good. Like he deserves forgiveness. Why?

“I…” he stammered, “I did something hideous.”

He expected you to accuse him. To shout at him. But all you did was to hold his hand. “Why?”

Hendery’s hand abruptly trembled. He bit his lower lip so hard, it bled. “My mother,” he choked. “Y/N… I saw her. Everything is for her.” He couldn’t stop his sniveling no matter how he try to stop it. In between sobs, Hendery told you what happened, his hand never letting go of yours. The shame that he’s felt has been obliterated clean. He didn’t even care about the tears rolling down his cheeks.

After he opened himself up to you, you reached for him and hugged his body tightly. Hendery fought the urge to cry again. So he hugged you back instead, drowning in your scent.

When you pulled back, there’s a lone tear sliding down your cheek. Hendery wiped it away with his thumb, cupping your cheek with his cold hand.

“Now. This is what we’ll do,” you began.

xiii. And life everlasting…

You paced in front of the altar, trying your hardest to contain your heart inside your chest. It’s been at least twenty-four hours since you last saw Hendery. Your mind would explode thinking of what could’ve happened to him now. He’s supposed to come back an hour later.

You started to think that maybe it was a stupid plan all along. But you couldn’t blame him. He wanted to redeem himself to Father Ben, albeit it’s hard doing so. And he really didn’t plan to do exactly that. Hendery only wanted to return the necklace.

After his visit last night, where in he told you all that has transpired between him and his mother, you told him how important the necklace was for Father Ben. It is an heirloom, given by his mother.

You tried to coax Hendery that he should go to church and ask for Father Ben’s forgiveness. And yet he insisted that he would return the necklace. No matter what happens.

No matter what happens. That didn’t sit well with you.

In the end, you couldn’t argue with him anymore. He was determined to prove himself: that he’s worthy of good things and of forgiveness. Such raw emotions. It made you cry.

You agreed to meet here in the Church. Hendery says it’s safer this way. It is still the house of God, according to him. No one would attempt to harm you here.

You faced the altar and knelt, but before you could chant the first prayer, the latch of the door sounded. Hurriedly, you stood up on your feet.

In the dark, the silhouette of Hendery was drawn. He limped towards you while clutching something in his hand. You ran towards him, relief flooding your system. Tears pricked your eyes by how at ease you’ve felt by seeing him.

“Hendery!” you squealed and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled weakly before pulling away. “Here,” he says. “For Father…” Then he coughed. He coughed. With blood spurting out of his mouth. Your heart dropped on your feet. No.

Before you could think, Hendery fell to the floor, kneeling. Bouts of cough attacked his throat.

“Hendery,” you sobbed, “What happened?” You knelt in front of him, holding his shoulders to support his frail body.

“This is nothing,” he tried to say, but the world were muffled.

Panicking won’t help. So you strived to remain calm although your heart was beating jarringly inside your ribcage. And in the end, you sobbed and cried. “Help!” you cried out with all your might. “Help us! Hendery!”

You locked Hendery’s arm around your shoulder and hurled yourself up. But his weight was dead and he doesn’t seem to be doing well. “Hendery, please!” You were a crying mess. Vision blurry, throat wrapped up in pins and thorns and needles. You placed your arm around his waist and tried to hurl him up for the second time, but Hendery screamed in pain as you made contact with his side.

He fell to the ground.

And there was too much blood.

Blood. You stared at your trembling hands.

“No!” you screamed. “Hendery!” You sat and scooped him up in your arms, tears streaming down your face to his. “Stay with me! God!”

Hendery’s eyes were drooping now. They look like crystals, frantic and wild. “I…” He coughed. Blood came out of his mouth again.

You shushed him, brushing away his hair sticking to his forehead. His skin was feverish. You choked again and again, trying to gulp down your cries. “Stay. With. Me.” You give emphasis to each word. “Hendery! No! No! Stay awake! Please!” You even started to slap his cheeks just to keep his eyes open.

Then his bloodied hand found your cheek. You sobbed as it made contact with your skin. “You…” he uttered under his breath, “you’re... so beautiful.” Hendery flashed you a smile. His teeth coated with blood.

“Please.” You bit your lower lip. “Stay with me.”

Hendery stared at your face, tears streaming down from his eyes. “So…” he whispered again, drawing circles on your cheek, “... beautiful.”

Then his hand fell.

Hendery spent his last breath with you. In front of the altar. With God your only witness that night.

Amen.

[supercasey]

Writing/story tropes that fuck me up so bad, but I love them anyways

Person A is bleeding out, and Person B is just holding them, trying so hard not to cry (bonus points if Person B is seen as the "strong one" in their relationship). Just as Person B is hanging their head, tears gathering in their eyes, Person A lays a hand on their cheek, and when Person B looks up to meet their eyes, Person A begins singing softly to them. This breaks Person B, who starts sobbing uncontrollably as they lay their head on Person A's chest, who continues to sing and pet Person B's hair until they pass away (the song I think of for this is "We'll Meet Again by The Ink Spots" and yes I'm crying my eyes out now, thanks for asking).

When someone in a group/team/soon to be found family says something really fucked up in a casual setting, only to be shocked when everyone else becomes concerned for them (bonus points if the person who said the fucked up thing is the "baby" of the group).

Literally any car ride conversation between characters, with the main two people who are having the talk sitting in the front seats while their friends are asleep in the back.

When the most self-destructive and self-sacrificing character is finally overcome and has a breakdown.

A pairing singing/dancing in the rain together, and you can see the love and adoration in their eyes as they play around like dumb kids (bonus points if the pairing is of an older couple).

Characters who are pinning committing vigilante crimes together (like robbing someone who's evil or stealing food for the homeless), and falling even more in love with each other as a result.

When a kid who's raised themself and learned to not trust adults finally gets taken in and is allowed to be a kid again/not take responsibility for everything anymore.

The normally quiet/stoic character singing to someone they love.

A found family/team all sleeping in a big cuddle pile after a big event.

The big bad that was dealing with a lot of trauma and undue bullshit becoming the weird uncle/adoptive parent of the heroes (bonus points if the good guys are all kids/teenagers who don't have any good parental figures in their lives. Bonus bonus points if any of them start calling the big bad their mom/dad).

Person A wakes up in an infirmary after a big event/fight. As they look around, disoriented and a bit scared, their eyes land on Person B, who is out cold in a chair beside their bed. Person A smiles and goes back to sleep, knowing that their S/O will protect them.

Literally any time the hero and antagonist team up to work towards a common goal (bonus points if the common goal is something dumb as all hell, like winning at a carnival game or making someone they both love happy).

Dads protecting/caring about their kids. That's it; I'm just a sucker for good dads and I wish there were more of them in popular fandoms.

Person A introducing their child/children to Person B, who knows they wanna be the kid's parent on sight (bonus points if the kid is really shy/doesn't trust Person B right away).

"I'm not lying!" Says Person A, lying through their teeth.

"This'll be fine!" He was soon to be proven wrong, however.

"Shut up!" "Make me!" (Bonus points for that sweet, sweet gay yearning.)

When the music stops 'cus shit just got real.

The quiet guy trying to make the funny guy laugh after something sad happened to the funny guy.

A character with superpowers losing their cool in a mental breakdown so bad that their eyes start glowing and shit starts blowing up all around them (bonus points if no one can help them and they wake up hours later in the middle of nowhere, and are forced to make their way home through the ruins of the destruction they inadvertently caused).

One of the big villains comforting the child hero who's had far too much responsibility forced onto them. Even better is if the villain more or less adopts the hero afterwards.

Similar themes as the last one; the big bad defending the hero from an even bigger bad guy (bonus points if it's revealed that the original big bag secretly cares about the hero more than they let on).

Piggyback rides between friends.

The main hero and villain are locked in a room/snowed in and are forced to bond until help can arrive.

Parent that's about to leave for good singing a lullaby to their sleeping child as they struggle not to cry.

We're snowed in and the power's out, so I guess we gotta cuddle for warmth 👀👀👀

Same as the last one, but platonically.

"And they were narrative foils!" Oh my god, they were narrative foils.

When a robot/alien character says anything along the lines of "I think I'm scared." 🥺

Group of superpowered/strong people are all defeated/scared by something extremely insignificant, mainly a spider or cockroach being loose in their home.

Siblings teasing each other one minute then protecting each other the next (bonus points if they're on opposing sides).

Character who has no experience with children being handed a baby that they proceed to hold like an active pipe bomb.

Literally fucking anything with a dad trying his best to be a good parent to his child/children and putting their needs before his own. I'm sorry, I'm just so thirsty for this content.

And that's all for now! I'm sure there are more that I'm forgetting, but I love these tropes so fucking much!!!

[jcmorrigan]

001 - Tales of Zestiria?

Favorite character: It's a tough call between Maltran and Symonne, and Lunarre is trailing right behind both. I tend to call them the "Heldalf Squad," but make no mistake, Heldalf himself isn't part of it. I just like his swagalicious minions. The dry and sarcastic political manipulator, the sadistic and wordy theater nerd, and the flamboyant cannibal who hates everything. Yes. LOVE. But I have to give a shout to my boy Dezel on the hero side! Angsty/stoic characters are very hit-or-miss with me, but Dezel is the flavor I love - obvious soft spots and quirks, and slowly he builds from being antisocial to showing how big his heart is. When he stops the woman from leaping off the Guinevere tower...that's one of my favorite scenes in the entire game, because you can see when the switch flips, when he realizes that he CANNOT stay aloof any longer when there's a stranger's life on the line. He's still a grump about it but a compassionate grump.

Least Favorite character: Heldalf. His backstory is really clever, and I like the curse on him. But he himself just feels like Ganondorf but more boring. I kinda hate that he's so vanilla when his three lieutenants are in my arsenal of pet villains from the vastness of fiction. Also shout-out to Chancellor BART in the opening Ladylake act, because I distinctly remember liveblogging this to a friend, and I played Zestiria *after* Berseria (I'd loved Berseria and that's why I eventually sought out Zestiria) so here I am just comparing up the corrupt church in Ladylake to the Abbey's suave rogues gallery like "Yeah no BART has nothing on Lady Teresa Linares." Thankfully BART was never seen again.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): DezeRose, SorMik, Symonne x Coco Atarashi (The World Ends With You), Alisha Diphda x Sergei Strelka, and...I swear you have to bear with me here...Zaveid x Anna (Frozen). I also kinda wanna note a couple ships I'm on the fence about for my other favies - those being Maltran x Ebony Maw (Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Ultimate Alliance) and Lunarre x Arkham (Devil May Cry).

Character I find most attractive: Dezel. It is a scientific fact that guys with pointy teeth are just hotter.

Character I would marry: Maybe Dezel, maybe Sergei. I wouldn't want to take them from those I see as their wifeys, but at the same time, they are husband goals, both of them.

Character I would be best friends with: Catch me clinging to Maltran's train and she drags me along annoyedly as I yell "PLEEEEAAASE LET ME HANG OUT WITH YOU GUYS" and Lunarre is losing it laughing while Symonne rolls her eyes

a random thought: So I toyed around with basically every accessory I picked up, and I decided to put the sideburns on Rose because fuck gender roles. Well then I just got used to seeing her with facial hair in every cutscene where her 3D model was used, and now I headcanon that she does get it. Maybe nonclassical CAH intersex? Like, I don't necessarily see her as trans (but I support everyone who hc's her as such) but moreso "a cis woman, but I grow this stupid damn facial hair like a dude and I don't get why." And this is why you shouldn't let me play with customizable accessories on RPG characters because I can and will abuse my privilege to headcanon.

An unpopular opinion: That this is actually a very good game. Listen, I think I get it - the initial marketing promised something far different. And that's disappointing. But coming back to it several years after its release, after the release of its PREQUEL, when I never had that hype building up...it actually exceeded my expectations. I held off from it for a while because I thought Eizen's fate would make me too sad, but that didn't end up the case at all. I actually had just come off playing a more recently-released triple-A game that was hyped up for years, and I completed it to my satisfaction in 20 hours. $80 for 20 hours. Zestiria gave me my money's worth in comparison; it took me about 60, and I loved just how MUCH story it had to offer me. I honestly like Rose better than Alisha anyway (Rose was one of the biggest aspects that interested me about playing it in the first place). I've also seen complaints that the characters weren't well-developed enough? Which I just kinda take to mean "They didn't angst enough." Listen. There are PLENTY of games out there if you want angst and sad stories. I don't really like sad stories in my games. I like adventures where the party is a goofy foundfam that jokes around with each other and helps each other work through shitty situations, and that's EXACTLY what I got. (And Berseria really worked on me too because it kinda started at the bottom of the angst barrel, then worked its way up through "The edgy and tortured protag has gained a party of idiots and oh noooooo she's learning friendship and happiness.") Dezel's death is one of the few game deaths that just made me SATISFIED to watch instead of depressed because of the closure he got and the themes tied into his final moments and sacrifice. I loved going on this adventure, I loved the idiots who I went on it with, and I loved seeing what Glenwood had to offer me in world design the further I explored.

my canon OTP: There's not much for canon romance in this game, come to think of it. Just subtext and some flirting. So I'm blanking on if there actually were any canon couples at all.

Non-canon OTP: DezeRose! Which maybe can be considered almost-canon based on the amount of subtext, but still. It's adorable. (And it's the exact same dynamic as EiRoku except M/F and a thousand years later. I need these four to double date...the dual-wielding goofs with their edgy, grumpy Reapers...)

most badass character: Rose! Not only able to wield the Shepherd's Armatization powers, but also to be a dang good assassin on her own, able to hold her own against Heldalf before she even had her eyes opened to seraphim! Though a shout-out goes to Edna because her armatization was my favorite to play with. There's something just satisfying about bashing the enemy in front of you with a pair of GIANT FISTS

pairing I am not a fan of: RoseAli. To be honest, it was at one point something I kinda enjoyed as a third-tier ship for Rose (Dezel first, then Lailah in second). But then...Alisha's Story. I didn't actually purchase it, thank goodness, just watched it on YouTube, and it was the most grating addition that anyone could've made to this game. First of all, I can sum up the issues with Alisha's Story by reminding everyone that it canonized a secret entrance to Camlann that was much easier to get to and wasn't protected by Muse's sacrifice. But the real thing that hurt to watch was how far down they had to knock Rose and Alisha's friendship to get them to rebuild from scratch. Rose claiming she was never Alisha's friend because she's grieving Sorey? The two of them getting into a PHYSICAL FISTFIGHT over it? Nope nope nope. That's not my Rose. Even less my Rose is that whole scene where she...you know...pounces on Alisha to dress her in the silly noblewoman's dress, and it's framed like...let's just say it's really uncomfortable to watch if you don't know the punchline is just a silly outfit. Even though Alisha's Story isn't canon in my head, it still really killed any buzz I had for RoseAli. I will also say I'm not a big fan of Eizavie - first of all, EiRoku or bust in this house, and second, I have a little bit of a hard time seeing Zaveid as mlm due to how much he goes on and on about The Ladies(TM). (Though I could see Eizen as having a tiny crush on him, though. Just like "Oh no he's hot but he's connected to Aifread's disappearance help")

character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Mostly just in Alisha's Story. I was mad about the aforementioned Rose stuff, but also...like...they undid Lunarre's original cathartic death, they did so to team him back up with Symonne and then do a whole fakeout that they had Maltran with them too, but Maltran is just an illusion and immediately after this, Lunarre and Symonne just decide "Yeah, we're not gonna work together anymore, have a nice life." Why does Maltran need to stay dead if LUNARRE somehow survived EXPLODING? And just...look to next question for more clarification:

favourite friendship: I just want to imagine that Maltran, Lunarre, and Symonne were weird evil friends. The kind who'd take artistic selfies and caption them "Murder and mayhem with my besties!". Maybe they even had a sibling dynamic. They were all pretty dang jaded, so I like to think they sat around sometimes talking about the things in this world that did them wrong. The reasons they were drawn to Heldalf. Heldalf himself wouldn't have cared, he would've kicked them around like disposable tools, but the three of them were too entrenched in his dogma to see it. Maybe if they met up again after he was off the board...then they'd sing a different tune. Realize they're all three better than this, and now they're gonna do things THEIR way, because remember when they made a three-point attack on Glenwood and Sorey was barely able to keep up with them wrecking Lastonbell AND Pendrago AND Glaivend? Remember when Lunarre and Symonne had each other's backs the night Dezel died? Now they can do what they want on their terms! And I just - I have many MANY feelings about these three.

character I want to adopt or be adopted by: Okay silly self-insert time but the thing is, Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls) and Roman Torchwick (RWBY) are my two favorite parental f/o's (and also my OTP to end all OTPs), and I have this thing about how they'd be PERFECT crime dads to Symonne in particular because she's like a little, more theatrical Neopolitan. So there's a universe in my head where Symonne is basically already my little sister, and I look out for her - well, okay, she's a seraph with powerful Artes and I am a powerless mortal so really she looks out for me because "I suppose SOMEONE has to make sure you don't die" and I am grateful to her for it.

[klbwriting]

The Sparrow and The Rogue - Part 2

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves/female!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, once again fighting

Summary: The Umbrella siblings learn about what’s been going on in this timeline, One lives a day in his life, and has a pretty fun date trying to kill his wannabe girlfriend

              Even though the Umbrella siblings were promised an explanation that evening they never got one.  At least most of them didn’t.  There was a debrief to the small group of powered adults by Lila and Eight and then Diego and Lila disappeared somewhere while the rest of the group had dinner with what they discovered were a team called the ‘Rogues’ and they were kidnapped from directly under Reginald’s nose.  Most of them had chosen names while a couple stayed with their numbers, liking the way they sounded.  Eleven was very happy now that they kept their named now that Stranger Things was popular and they had the same powers as the character in the show.  They were giving rooms in the hideout, having to double up with the Rogues already there.  It was a surprise to no one that Diego was just fine sharing with Lila and Allison was almost a little nervous to share with Eight not knowing what her power was.

              “You look happy,” she said, trying to break the ice with the girl who was texting and had a smile on her face.  Eight looked over as if she forgot Allison was there and blushed, putting the phone under her pillow quick.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

              “Its no big deal, just don’t tell Lila about it ok?” she said. Allison nodded with a smile.  “She would be very annoyed if she found out I was texting with someone inside the Sparrows.”

              “Ben?” Allison asked, sitting up now, full ready to have some girl time.  Eight considered this, then finally sat up herself.  She never got to talk to anyone about One and how confusing things were between them.  

              “Ya, he’s One here, he was your brother?” she asked. Allison nodded.

              “Ya, he was killed on a mission when we were teenagers. Klaus could still see him, he communes with the dead, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky,” she said.  

              “What was he like in your time?”  Allison considered how to answer.

              “We weren’t super close, he was always close with Vanya and Diego, he was so kind to everyone, especially the ones dad was hardest on.  I remember one time I was walking by Diego’s room while he was practicing his speech and Ben was in there, they had to have been 7 maybe, and he was just sitting there listening and encouraging him.  Diego was crying after a bit of not being able to get a word out and Ben just took his hand and said ‘don’t think about dad, just think about talking to me, you know you can take your time with me’.  That’s who Ben was, just the best,” she said, getting a little teary thinking about her lost brother.  Eight smiled and moved to sit next to Allison, a comforting arm going around her shoulders.

              “That version is still here.  I have seen moments of that person in One, that kindness,” she said. “My first memory is with One, when I think we were 4, its really simple, I had fallen and scraped up my knee during a morning run and dad was livid at me, even at 4 I was always too big and slow for him to tolerate so he made me do extra laps and One was there with me the whole time, ran every single one next to me even though he was faster and could have been done, he stayed with me.”  

              “That sounds like Ben,” Allison agreed.  “I hope maybe we can get past this, I don’t know what dad is planning but I’m so tired of running around and being chased, just so tired.”  Eight nodded.

              “Get some sleep, no one will wake you up tomorrow so you can get a good rest,” she said, moving back to her bed and laying down. Allison followed suit and she closed her eyes, drifting off to a music box playing now in the room.  She hadn’t noticed one being around before but Eight must have had next to her somewhere.  Once she was sleeping Eight lifted a hand and the music box across the room stopped playing, letting her fall asleep also.  

 -------------------------

             Number One was going through the motions today. He had woken up early as usual and went to the kitchen to help mom make breakfast.  He knew she couldn’t really appreciate it like a person, but he thought she enjoyed spending time with him anyway.  He could feel his father’s present before he saw him, entering the kitchen and giving him a disproving look, still angry about dinner no doubt.

              “Good morning Number One, feeling a little less rebellious today?” he said, sitting at the breakfast table and looking through a morning paper.  One glared at the eggs he was plating and set the plate down in front of Reginald a little harder than he meant.  “Ah, I see you are still in a mood.  Very well, you will be in charge of leading drills this morning, now eat your eggs.” One didn’t say anything but internally he groaned, drills made everyone hate him for days.  He ate in silence with the rest of his siblings before standing and telling them to get up and get to the yard.  They shot him death glares before doing as asked, knowing the punishment was worse than the drills.

              Two hours later and his siblings were off again, probably meeting in one of their rooms to talk about how much they hated him and his kiss ass ways.  One however, had more work to do, heading out to do his first patrol of the day.  He had no idea why dad sent him to do patrols instead of waiting for something to happen, especially now that the Umbrella siblings had shown up.  First the patrols were for them, then they became patrols for general crime, but now that the word of the Horror had spread no one would dare commit a crime in the city limits unless they wanted to die a horrible death over 30$ in some purse.

              This time out in the city gave him a chance to release some stress that he needed.  He found a park nearby and soon was casually swinging watching the kids around him and reminding himself of why he dealt with everything.  Without the Sparrow Academy the apocalypse would have happened two days ago.  They had saved history, keeping the timeline on track after something called ‘The Commission’ went belly up in the 60s due to some kind of explosion.  Where they had left off Reginald had picked it up, first on his own, and then when the 43 were born, with the 15 he had been able to get his hands on.  They had been whittled down to 6 humans and a box that told them where to go and got them in and out.  Ben may have hated his father but he would protect these people, always.  

              One patrolled until lunch, stopping at the kitchen table to eat alone before going to his room and checking his messages on his secret phone.  Before he could open it he had to hide it under his pillow as his door was shoved open and Number Two walked in.  Two stood silent for a second, seemingly realizing that he had caught One doing something he shouldn’t.

              “You alright One?” he asked suspiciously.  One stood up, facing off against his sibling, mustering up his bravado.

              “Ya, what do you want number Two?” he emphasized the word two just to irritate them.  They growled, glaring.

              “Dad wanted to have us trade patrols tonight, I’ll take 9th to 15th, you take the old trainyards,” Two said.  “Starting now, I’m supposed to watch you leave.” One gritted his teeth, anger seething through him.  

              “Let me get ready, I need to get my shoes,” he said. Two just stood in the doorway watching as One went back to his bed, sitting down and tying his shoes extra slow, hoping something would happen to make Two glance away.  Someone must have heard his silent plea because something clunked in the hall making Two look around for a fight.  One grabbed the phone and shoved it in his pocket before standing up.  “Alright, you want to walk me to the front door too?”  Two glared and let him pass by, closing his door behind him.

              After he was outside and a couple blocks away he texted Eight, letting her know of the change of plans, before heading down to the trainyards, thinking about maybe doing some sprints while he waited for her.

 -----------------------

              The Umbrella siblings sat in the main room of the hideout with Lila and Eight, Lila explaining what had happened to the Commission and what the Sparrow Academy had been up to.  They knew that after the Commission was taken down those in the ‘Resistance’ had taken up control of the timeline under rule of Lila and the kids she had collected from over time, starting with Eight.  

              “We developed the traveling technology by stealing what Reginald had already figured out.  The briefcases were big and too easy to lose, too much of a hassle, so instead Reginald created watches capable of the travel,” she explained.

              “How did he figure that out?  I watched the Commission try for decades to create that kind of technology,” Five cut in.  Lila glared at him, still not exactly happy that he was alive after killing her parents, no matter who had ordered the hit.

              “I don’t know, took a few tests to figure out how to use the watches, but now we can track where the Sparrows go and then fix whatever they mess up in history, keep the timeline on track,” Lila explained. Confusion rippled through the room.

              “What do you mean you fix the Sparrows messes?” Luther asked, sitting forward, the chair creaking loudly.  He made a face and waited for someone to say something just so he could hit them.  

              “The Sparrows travel around on orders from dad to ‘fix’ history, ya know, kill Steve Jobs before the iPhone, assassinate Abe Lincoln when he’s running for president, take out Thomas Jefferson, although that last one I really hated to fix,” Eight said.  “Such a brilliant mind, such a shit fucking person.”  She stood up and went to stand by the open door, Lila looking over at her.

              “What’s wrong with you?” Lila asked.  

              “I’m warm, there’s a draft over here,” Eight explained, leaning on the wall, hand in her jacket pocket.  

              “Why don’t you just take off the jacket?” Klaus asked, getting elbowed by Allison.  “What?”

              “I like this jacket,” was her answer before she looked out the doorway.  Lila rolled her eyes and returned to the original conversation.

              “So after we fix their messes, they make more messes.  We’re not sure what exactly Reggie is trying to do but either way, we know we have to make sure history happens as expected.  Except for the apocalypse, none of us could really muster the desire to stop fixing that,” she said.

              “So now we’re in no mans land?” Vayna asked, getting a little nervous about bringing about another end of the world scenario. Lila nodded.

              “Honestly, only Five has lived past the apocalypse and now that it didn’t happen I don’t know what the game plan from here is, I just know what happens in actual history to keep that on track, what those changes bring in the future is a crap shoot,” she said.  “Isn’t that right Eight?  Eight?”  She turned to see the doorway empty, no trace of Eight left in the hide out anymore. Allison sat in her seat and smiled softly, having an inkling where she was going, hoping that maybe she could turn Ben back to their side.  

 ----------------------

              Eight had gotten One’s message and headed towards the trainyards.  She passed by Number Four along the way and realized quick that One was being followed. She acted like she was patrolling, hoping to not have to fight Four but knowing it was a possibility.  Four however, let her pass, clearly just being around to watch their brother and what he was doing.  Once at the trainyards Eight dipped through old train cars, running up and down tracks until she saw One.  She approached him slowly.

              “You have a friend around,” she said.  One’s eyes flashed the area and he caught a quick glance of crimson ducking behind a car nearby.  “So I guess this is another fight to the death?”

              “Guess so,” he said with a smirk.  Eight smiled back sweetly.  “No powers?”

              “No powers, pinky promise,” she said before diving towards him, fist raised.  

              One easily blocked the shot, moving around to fire back with his own fist.  Eight easily dodged and punched his stomach, pulling the hit so it didn’t actually hurt. One doubled over anyways, spearing her around the waist and taking her to ground, just out of view of Four.

              “So, ready to play dead?” he asked, holding her shoulders down as she laid under him, watching him closely before nodding.  He smiled down at her before standing up and walking around the car, hands raised above his head as in victory.  He knew once Four saw this they would call out to him.

              “Hey Number One!” Four called as expected, walking over the tracks.  One hurried to meet them, not wanting them to actually see that Eight was alive.  “You finally got the bitch!”

              “Yup, finally caught her by surprise, she said no powers like an idiot,” he said, chuckling darkly.  Four nodded and laughed.  “Well I’m going to finish my patrol and head home, but ya know, gotta get rid of the body first.”  Four nodded.

              “Need help?” they asked.  One shook his head.

              “Nah, I got it, just going to shove her under the traincar, no one will find her and if they do animals will do the job first,” he said.  Four nodded, turning and walking away without another word.  Four was easiest to trick and One was glad dad hadn’t sent Two or Six after him.

              Once he was sure Four was gone he headed back to the traincar to find Eight sitting against the wheel, having been listening. He took a seat next to her, close enough that their shoulders were touching, hand gently finding its way over to hers on her leg.  He linked their fingers and sighed.

              “Well, that’ll lighten things up for a bit, dad will think you’re dead for awhile,” he said, looking at her.  She nodded and looked at him.

              “You know we can’t do this forever, one day we have to either tell all the truth or run away,” she said.  “We could go to the 90’s, relive our childhood but ya know as adults.  I’ll be old enough to buy myself Backstreet Boys tickets.”  One laughed and shook his head.

              “Someday, but I can’t leave this behind, I mean we’re fixing history, making sure everything keeps on track,” he said. Eight sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, you guys think we mess it up, but we don’t, we help, we save people, you guys are the ones who come around messing it up again.”  

              “We honestly don’t know who is fixing what,” she said.  “I just wish I knew what dad was planning for, why he’s doing all this.”  

              “He’ll tell me when I’m ready,” One said indignantly, trying to justify why he was so readily going along with Reginald.  

              “I hope he does, I’m curious which side I’m on,” Eight said.  She looked at him.  “Enough talk, I don’t think we really came here to talk.”  One nodded, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, kissing her until he ran out of air, then taking a breath, and going right back in.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #428

“there’s more money in tragedy, more net worth in self-pity  /  so you’re doubling down inside of your screen, hiding behind attention you seek”

Have you ever told someone, besides family, that you love them and meant it? Yeah. I've told friends that platonically, and I've said it to two people and romantically meant it. Are the blankets that are on your bed now made by someone you know in life? No. Have you seen all The Lord of the Rings movies? I haven't even seen one. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had in 2014? I had one. Can you walk in heels? I mean I can, but I don't like to. What does your mom say about the pictures on your Myspace? First the '14 question, now this... I don't think Mom ever had a Myspace, but I can answer for Facebook. She's always the person to "heart" react them and say something about how "beautiful" I am or something. ;x; What was the last thing you and your parents argued about? Idr. Do you feel your life is at its best? Fuck no. There better be better times than this. What do you worry about the most? The most? That's hard to say... but probably my career future. Or really just the future in general. Have you ever let someone be your everything? "Everything" still feels like an understatement. He was my source of happiness, a massive part of my own identity, and my promise for a better future. It was so, so unhealthy. Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you cried in their arms? Two times, I wanna say? What are some things you do when you’re mad? I get snappy and try to isolate myself to cry it out. How do you feel about your hair right now? I hate itttt. It's getting too long and just boring. I'm hoping I can get up with my hairdresser soon for a trim. What’s an interesting fact about you that not many people know? Uhhhh... I guess that I was a dancer for many years. I feel like I don't really fit the general "aesthetic" of dancers, so people have definitely been surprised to find out I was one. Do you do anything embarrassing when no one is home? No. Just because no one ELSE is there, I'd embarrass my damn self lol. If you had the chance to move to a completely different state/county, would you? Fuck yes I would. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? It's funny, because that's what the traumatized, overly-attached part of me wants (at the bare minimum), but my common sense knows that's dumb as fuck. I could never healthily be friends with him. Are you scared of fireworks? No, but others are terrified by them, so keep that in mind. Does anyone know every little detail about you? No. You woke up one day and discovered that you were only able to see in black and white… as well as one other colour. What colour would that be and why? I guess red? It sounds morbid for it to be the first thing my mind goes to, but that way, I'd be able to see blood and therefore be able to detect a symptom of danger. What is your favourite soundtrack for a film/video game/television show? (Though feel free to name as many!) Silent Hill 2 and Shadow of the Colossus have fucking LEGENDARY soundtracks. What is your favourite Pokémon? Ninetales! I also really love Espeon and Umbreon, too. And Charmander. And Pikachu. And Skitty. And... well, too many, ha ha. What is something your best friend of the opposite sex does that you can’t stand? He calls me "kid" a lot. Is the last book you read a really well-known book? It's not world-famous or anything, but it seems relatively known by teens/young adults. At least, I follow a lot of artists who make fanart for it. Do you have anything besides just songs downloaded on your iPod? No. When at the beach, do you spend more time on the beach or in the ocean? In the water. I hate the beach itself. Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? No. Have you ever babysat before? Did you enjoy this job? Yes, and no, not at all. Have you ever busted a window before? Why did you bust it? No. Do you still get scared watching old horror movies? You watch them alone? Horror movies pretty much never scare me, never mind old cheesy ones. I don't mind watching them alone. Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? I'm terrified of big knives, and it has nothing to do with movies. It's a fear that started after Mom stopped me from a suicide attempt where I was going to slit my throat with one. They just radiate danger for me. Have you ever tried to sing opera? Did it work out for you or no? No. What was the last piece of furniture you purchased? I've never bought any furniture, and I don't recall the last thing Mom bought. Have you ever broken up with someone for a reason other than lack of feelings (ex. moving away, etc.)? Yeah; we split because we were essentially two shaky towers leaning against one another. We have to learn to straighten ourselves up independently before that relationship even becomes a "maybe" again. Has anyone ever told you that you are too picky when it comes to the people you date? What about not picky enough? Neither. Was there anything unusual or unique about your birth? Nothing really, besides being born in an icestorm. My birth itself was totally normal, as far as I know. Mom considers it pretty extraordinary though because according to her, I took one look at her and smiled so big. Says a lot about our relationship now. What was the best conversation you’ve had recently? *shrug* What is the next book you are going to read? The book that comes next in the series I'm reading. Who was the last person to do something nice for you? My mom does nice things for me every day, like making dinner, letting me live under her roof... a lot of stuff. Is there any artwork in the room you’re in? Yeah, some of my stuff. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Someone asks you what you want; what do you say? Happiness. Direction. What was the last thing you complained about? Just being incredibly sore. The gym's kicking my ass, but it needs to, so I'm fine with it. How do you feel when you hear other people complaining? It depends on how frequently and about what. It can become overwhelming sometimes, especially if it's over something truly trivial. Has your name been in someone’s Facebook status lately? No. Do you own any Sims games? Which ones? I have the original animals one, as well as the African animals one (which I surprisingly like less). What was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. Do people praise you for your looks? Yeah, definitely not. Do you like your eyes? No. I wish they were bluer and wider. Tell me what your back pack looks like: My last one was a galaxy texture. What celebrity do you think is hot? HMMMMMMMMMMMM I DON'T KNOW????????????? NEVER SEEN ONE IN MY LIFE O: O: O: Last movie you saw in theatre: The The Lion King remake. Has someone you were dating ever cheated on you? No. What’s the cutest thing someone’s ever done for you? I'd rather not dig through the memories to find what I'd consider the "cutest." What was the last thing you heated up in your microwave? A chicken pesto bowl for lunch. Did you ever watch Phil of the Future? Occasionally, but I was never big on it. Do you have an online game that you play often? I play World of Warcraft pretty much daily. Do you prefer regular or electric toothbrushes? Electric. What was the last thing to piss you off? Truly piss me off, I'm not sure. When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? Months ago in my room. I want to take a new one to update my Facebook profile pic, because I think I'm ready to return there. Who was the last person to pay you a compliment or praise? The first day at the gym, Mom told me she was extremely proud of me, and it meant a lot. I truly think I can stick to this, and it's a fucking phenomenal feeling. What’s one thought you have regarding the subject of love? It can be the most beautiful thing in the world, yet simultaneously has the capability to be one of the most painful. Do you think that it’s possible to fall in love at a young age like eleven or twelve? Who am I to say, honestly. I lean towards no because at the age of puberty, you're really all over the place with your hormones and emotions, and I just don't know if it's possible for two pre-teens to have the maturity level to grasp what it truly means to be in love with someone. But again, what do I really know? Everyone is different. Are sex and sexual activities something you enjoy? Yeah sure, if it's something I'm in the mood to engage in and I'm in love with the person. What’s an interesting fact about the state in which you were born? We're the home of Pepsi products. I know, of course I would share a fact about soda, ha ha. What’s one aspect of your life that did not turn out as you expected? Where I am now as far as "adult development" goes. I don't drive. I don't have a job. I still live with my mother. I could go on and on... By this point, I definitely expected something much, much different when I was younger. What was the last event to cause you any sort of heartache? Hm. I don't know. What was the worst phase you’ve ever gone through? *shrug* What excuse did you use most often to skip school? There were times I'd pretend to have a really bad cough. I could fake a nasty cough, man. Are you shy about singing in front of people? Very. Honestly, do you put your elbows on the dinner table? Yes, because why the fuck would that matter. I don't get how something so simple and harmless is "bad manners." Have you ever taken a picture in a public bathroom? No. Yes or no: corsets? I. FUCKING. LOVE. CORSETS. UGH I wish I could pull one off, omfg. In your opinion, is money the root of all evil? All evil? No. There are some horrible crimes people can commit that have nothing to do with money. Do you own a pair of overalls? Ew, no. I hate overalls. What is the best game to play while in the car? Uh, idk. Has a movie ever made you jump in fear? I'm sure at some point. Jumpscares are hard to be unfazed by; it's just a natural reaction to something sudden. Yes or no: pickles? Bro I LOVE pickles. Yes or no: strawberry ice cream? Ugh, no. Do you know what your mom’s favorite movie is? No, actually. Are you a role model to anybody? No fucking way I am. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? Somewhere around six or seven pounds. Look outside the nearest window. What can you see? From where I'm at, I can just see the shed. What are you interested in that most people would be surprised to know? Cutesy, pastel stuff, probably. How many bathrooms are in your house? Two. Do you prefer stripes or polka dots? Polka dots. Are you considered a very sensitive person? Very. Have you ever told someone you never wanted to speak to them again? Yes. What’s the weather like today? Is it nice enough to go outside? It's hot as fuck outside. You will NOT see me outside today. What does your last text message say and who is it from? It's just a thumbs up emoji from the woman who works at my psychiatrist's office. She schedules my phone appointments with him. Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? No. Why did you leave your last job? It was WAY too fast-paced with lots of responsibilities that I just couldn't handle. Have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying? No, that's awful. What’s your favorite scent of air freshener? Probably something floral and subtle. Are your hands and feet in good condition or could you do with a mani-pedi? Ugh. I pick my fingernails off badly, so they're a mess rn. I also DISDAIN my feet because they are horribly callused from when I used to walk like crazy. It's so weird how I can exfoliate the area and scrub (... and sometimes tear) them off, but they're pretty much immediately back. When was the last time you played a board game? What did you play? A couple years ago with Girt and Sara, I think. We played Scrabble. How old were you when you first became sexually active? Do you mean like, doing anything sexual? In which case that would be 16. I woulda been 16 or 17 when I actually lost my virginity, though. Do you know anyone who has been through a divorce? A load of people. Does anyone not know somebody? Have you ever done a juice cleanse? No. Do you have to pay for parking in most places in the town/city you live in? No. That's a foreign concept here. It's one of the very alien things I experienced in Chicago; I don't really think I knew it was a thing (save for massive attractions, like Disney Word and stuff) before then. Can you hear lots of traffic from your house? Does it bother you? No. We live in a cul-de-sac, and our road is further into it, away from the main road.

[snarkwrites]

08 | gangsta ; sweet pea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I need to amend what I said about this being non canon compliant. It does mention things that happen in canon. Some of them even.. Happen. But differently. And a little out of order as I saw they fit into my own personal timeline. Also.. I’m gonna throw in some totally of my own creation stuff into here as well. I don’t exactly know what all that’ll be yet, but.. Yeah.

This is the first of four parts I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway.

Warnings:

non canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven -  soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn​ is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

                                             EIGHT.

“ Al?”

I turned down my radio and strained to hear. It almost sounded like Polly calling my name from the bottom of the stairs. I wandered over to my bedroom door, peeking out. Polly stood at the foot of the stairs, holding her twins on each hip. A smile played at my lips and I bounded down the stairs, launching myself into a careful hug. Fussing over the twins because I’d been dying to see them since the night Polly added me on Snapchat before everything went down the way it did.

She’d sent me a message that night, telling me she was pregnant and that she and Jason were leaving. She’d been planning to swing through Chicago with Jason and visit, on their way to wherever it was they’d planned to go. When it never happened and I didn’t hear from her again, I’d been worried for a while.

Then Betty realized that she’d been keeping in touch with me over Snapchat right after she went missing and she’d messaged me, asking if I’d seen Polly. When I told her I hadn’t and asked what was going on, she’d filled me in on everything.. Jason’s death and Polly’s fight with their parents and then Polly running away.

The rest filled itself in when I moved back in with my dad, for the most part. I found myself trying to stick close to Cheryl, because I knew she was taking it really hard. Because Jason had been like the third of us. Honestly, it hit me pretty hard too when I found out. Especially when Cheryl did that thing she always fucking does and tried to push me away. Tried to deal with it herself.

I’d given myself over to the thought Polly wasn’t ever going to return to Riverdale, so I was a little shocked that she was here. And staying under the same roof as her mom again.

“The last thing Betty told me was that you were living on a farm. I bet that was peaceful.” I stretched and smiled at her. Just imagining the lazy days that probably stretched on and on. The slow and quiet life.

Polly smiled, nodding. “I learned so much there.”

I nodded. “What was it like?”

We moved to sit on the couch and Polly began to tell me what she’d been up to. I listened, nodding and smiling. But the entire time she described this place, God help me, I found myself getting flashbacks to the true crime podcast I’d listened to about the Jonesboro cult. Or the Davidians from Waco.

I mean… it sounded harmless enough, but everything she told me about the place just made me think less of a commune and more of a cult type setting. And that had me worried.

The front door was being pounded on. When I heard Reggie calling my name through it, I grumbled. Polly gazed at the door and then at me. Smirking. “No way! I always thought you and Reggie would be cute together!”

“Whoa.. Let’s not get all happy.” I shook my head, frowning a little. Telling her in detail what actually happened and that we were broken up. She shook her head, frowning. “That’s a jerk move. Betty told me you were on the Vixens now?”

“Yeah. You know Cheryl. She’s always had a way of talking me right into shit I normally wouldn’t do. And Riverdale High didn’t exactly have a gymnastics team like my old school in Chicago, so I decided rather than go rusty and lose my edge, I’d join.” I shrugged, laughing and shaking my head. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

She nodded to my outfit for the day. Ripped jeans, a Motley Crue t shirt and my favorite boots, my dad’s old plaid shirt. “You mean the other Vixens haven’t read you for filth for daring non conformity?”

“ Oh, there’s this one girl I’m dying to get my hands on when we do that powderpuff football game on Friday, but other than her, nobody really seems to care or notice? I’m just kinda.. There. Which believe me… is totally fine with me.” 

I bent down to pick up Dagwood so that Polly could feed Juniper because she was crying. Adjusting Dagwood to my hip, I made my way over to the door, throwing it open. Scowling up at Reggie, who was leaning against a porch post.

His gaze softened when he glanced at me. I bit my lip. Taking a deep breath to keep my patience. I knew he was hurting. I knew it was also totally his fault. But I was trying not to be mean.

“What do you want?”

“Are you seriously dating that fucking guy now? Princess, he’s only going to hurt you.”

“No worse than you already have. But no.. No Reggie, I’m not dating Sweet Pea. I just fell asleep in Mr. Keaton’s class and I happened to wind up leaning against the guy. Kind of happens when I stay up until 3 watching the Saw movies.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe a thing I said. I shrugged because honestly, I didn’t care if he believed me or not. Shifting Dagwood from one hip to the other. Bouncing him a little, giving a soft laugh when he grinned up at me. And raised his little hand to try and grab a handful of the ends of my hair.

“ That guy is bad news, princess. If I have to, I’ll talk to your dad. Anything if it means keepin you from gettin seriously hurt. Or worse, put in danger.”

“Reggie, you need to go.” I rolled my eyes. “I should get back inside. Get Dagwood back to his mommy.”

Reggie was giving me this soft look again. Nodding. Like he was lost in thought. I snapped my fingers in his face and cleared my throat. “You need to go, Reggie. I’m not kidding. The more you pop up and try to force me to deal with this, the less it makes me want to, okay? I need space. Time.”

“It’s just so hard, princess. Then I see you around with him and damn it, I hate the way I acted and the fact that I ruined everything.” Reggie admitted quietly. I nodded. “Just give me space.”

“I’ll try.” he promised, turning, walking down my porch steps. From the doorway, Polly spoke up.

“Sweet Pea.. He’s a Serpent, right? Jason mentioned him once or twice.” Polly asked as she reached out for Dagwood and gave me Juniper to hold.

I settled Juniper on my hip and gazed at Reggie’s retreating back. Sighing and shaking my head sadly. I just wish he’d understand that the more he tries to force himself on me right now, the less I want to deal with everything. And I don’t want to lose a friend.

I diverted my gaze and turned to face Polly, nodding. “Yeah. I got paired with him in Biology. It’s been interesting, to say the least.” I sank down to sit on a bench my father built, laughing as I shook my head. Cooing at Juniper. 

Polly cleared her throat. “Out with it, Alyssa Jean. I know that look too well, okay? And as your friend, I need to tell you now that the Serpents aren’t people you mess around with lightly. Not to mention, that whole thing with that guy Dave you had going in Chicago. The scary guy? The reason your mom freaked out and sent you here to live in the first place, most likely?”

“It’s nothing. It’s dumb.” I shook my head. Shifting Juniper around in my lap. Bouncing my legs a little to make her grin and reach up. “Dave was scary. And I’m starting to see that my mom did a good thing sending me here. I’m just glad he hasn’t tried to reach out to me.” I shivered a little, raising a hand to drag it through my hair. Gazing at Polly.

“The Serpents aren’t all bad.” I spoke up after a few seconds.

“Al, half of them already have rap sheets. I just don’t want you getting mixed up with them and getting hurt. Promise me you’ll at least give anything you’re thinking a lot of thought instead of just diving in and doing it?” Polly eyed me in concern. Mostly to appease her, I nodded.

“As far as Reggie.. I think he really regrets what he did.” Polly advised. Giving me a smile. Clearly trying to steer me in a particular direction. I know she was doing it with the best of intentions, but deep down, it struck a nerve or two. Because literally anyone I could think of save for Cheryl and Toni, they all seemed hell bent on steering me clear of Sweet Pea. Which was ironic, considering I really don’t see him ever even giving me a second look. Even more ironic when you stop to consider that it’s not like I’m openly throwing myself at the guy...Or that I’ve pretty much made up my mind that if I do feel anything for him, I can’t ever actually tell him, because it will ruin everything.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I decided against it. Polly gave me a soft smile, getting a dreamy look in her eyes as she spoke again. “The look he was giving you just now, Al.. If you gave him half a chance… you could be as happy as Jason and I were. Or as happy as I was raising my sweet angels at the Farm. You should come to a meeting with me.”

I shook my head quickly to that one. “I am.. Not into organized religion. I barely go to the services at the church here unless my dad really wants me to go with him. Besides.. We both know that I got up to enough sketchy stuff in Chicago that if I were to step foot in a religious building, lightning might just strike me down.”

“You weren’t that bad, Al. Everyone makes mistakes.” Polly laughed softly. Nodding to her twins as she mused, “Which one of us got knocked up, hm? And we both know how fast that gets you written off here.”

“ I know I wasn’t that bad, but also at the same time, it scares me now to think back and remember how much fun I had when I was in over my head, doing things I knew I shouldn’t ? As far as you getting pregnant and what this town thinks about it. Honestly, fuck ‘em. You and Jason were really in love. That’s what matters.” 

“We really were. But it was hard.” Polly admitted quietly. Adding as an afterthought, “ I really miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah. Me too. Pretty sure he’d have helped Archie drill Reggie’s head into the floor when it got around exactly why Reggie was even dating me to begin with. It was ridiculous. Took Jughead and Kevin to pull the two apart.” I gave a quiet laugh, shaking my head. 

Alice was calling for Polly and Polly grumbled, raising up to peek out the window. “I better go over there and see what she wants. I wanted to come over. Maybe I can come by again later or something?” Polly asked as she gathered Juniper and Dagwood, re-swaddling them against her. I smiled, nodding. Following her to my door, letting her out and locking the door again behind me once I saw her disappear inside her parents house.

XXX

“They’re going to tear down South Side.”

The words had Sweet Pea tensing because it was just another thing he’d be losing. It wasn’t enough apparently, that he was living in the Wyrm because he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t have family willing to take him. His mother hadn’t spoken to any of them in years. He barely saw his mother as it was, she’d come home for a day, a week tops and then she’d be gone again.

He gazed over at Fangs, processing what Fangs was telling him. “First it was closing the school down. Then it was our homes. What next, huh? What else do we have to get taken?”

Jughead wandered into the Wyrm and Sweet Pea scowled a little. It didn’t matter how much Jughead was trying to do for the gang, what he was accomplishing was the opposite of what needed to happen. “The fuck is he doing here?” Sweet Pea nodded to Jughead.

“He’s one of us, man.” Fangs reminded Sweet Pea. Glancing at Jughead as Jughead made his way over. He’d probably just heard the news about South Side High too. Though Fangs didn’t see why it mattered

“Only because of FP. Cherry’s more one of us than he is. I still say the second we’re not useful he’s going to bitch out and turn his back.”  Sweet Pea grumbled.

Fangs chuckled, shaking his head. Sweet Pea hadn’t ever made a secret how he felt about Jughead. And he certainly hadn’t taken it easy on the guy when they initiated him into the Serpents not so long ago, either.

Jughead sat down next to where Fangs was standing, grabbing himself a drink from behind the counter and pulling the tab. Taking a long sip.

“We have to do something. They’re taking everything from us.” Jughead spoke up angrily.

“I’d like to point out they’re your friends.” Sweet Pea spoke up, a harsh tone as he glanced over at Jughead.

“I’d like to point out that we all know you have a thing for one of them. If you’re going to sit there and pin this on the North Side like usual, I mean. At least own up to that.” Jughead retorted, watching Sweet Pea’s fists clench and his face twist into an angry mask. Trying to keep himself from laughing as it happened.

Sweet Pea having feelings for Alyssa wasn’t quite as well hidden as the guy thought.

The only one who didn’t seem to be aware of it was Alyssa herself. It amused Jughead.

It did not amuse Alyssa’s brother.

And the two had already had several heated conversations about him hanging around Alyssa so much that Jughead had to intervene on more than one occasion.

“I keep telling you idiots I don’t. I’d trust her before I would you, Jones. If we’re going there.” Sweet Pea muttered.

“Whatever you say, Pea. Can we stop arguin? Maybe start thinkin about what the fuck we’re gonna do?” Fangs patted his friend on the shoulder and Sweet Pea glared up at him.

“A hunger strike. We chain ourselves to the school. They can’t demolish it if we’re not moving.” Jughead suggested.

Fangs and Sweet Pea shared a look. Neither were sure their idea would work. But maybe it could buy them some time. Or get attention to the issues at hand… The more attention they drew to the fact that certain people were trying to use their money to completely run an entire neighborhood out of town, the better their case.

“That’s not the worst idea.”

“I hate what I’m about to say.” Sweet Pea paused, grimacing as he added, “It’s not. It’ll get attention on what’s happening. I hated saying that, fuck.” 

“Let me go talk to the others. We’ll reconvene at 9 tonight?”

Fangs and Sweet Pea nodded and Jughead went to talk to some of the other Serpents.

“That killed you, didn’t it buddy?” Fangs teased Sweet Pea.

“Fuck you, Fogarty.” Sweet Pea snapped, grumbling to himself. “Doing somethin is better than just sitting back and lettin them take everything, I guess.” 

And at 9:30 pm that night, Jughead, Fangs, Sweet Pea and Toni as well as several other former South Side students met at their old school. Chaining themselves to the fence in protest.

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 11

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / ao3 

in case you missed it, i did post an update yesterday so click to link to 10 or to the fic on ao3 to read it :)

--------

Morning came at a harsh awakening when, besides Jude, Cardan woke with a shout. Jude was instantly alert, looking around the room for any threats while unconsciously grabbing onto Cardan’s hand. When she turned her attention back to him, there was a glazed sort of look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t fully awake, or fully aware.

“Cardan?” Jude croaked, her voice still finding its way back to her after sleep.

“Nightmare,” was Cardan’s only reply. He flopped back down onto the bed and curled onto his side, wrapping his arm around Jude’s waist and gently guiding her back down beside him. She threaded her fingers through his mussed up hair in an attempt to calm the shaking of his body.

“He died yesterday,” Cardan choked, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. But her hands stilled. Cold ice washed its way through her veins.

“Who died?”

“My brother. Balekin. There was a car accident.”

“Isn’t he the one--?” Jude began to ask but cut off. Isn’t he the one that abused you? didn’t really seem like a question you could ask someone.

Nevertheless, Cardan knew where she was going with the question. “Yeah,” he replied. His voice sounded hollow, like everything inside him had been carved out. Jude didn’t really know what to say. I’m sorry? Is that what you said when someone’s abusive brother died? Jude knew better than anyone how complicated family relationships could be yet she still found herself at a loss for words.

“My sisters are arranging the funeral. My dad won’t talk to anyone. It’s all so fucked,” Cardan said. “And I don’t even know why I’m so fucking upset. Balekin was a dick, he made my life hell, but he was my fucking brother, you know?”

“You can miss someone who hurt you,” Jude replied softly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What… what can I do?”

“Can you just…,” Cardan trailed off, as if not sure if he should continue.

“Just what?”

He sounded defeated when he whispered, “Stay with me.”

Jude gently squeezed him and he seemed to further melt into her embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

They missed classes. Cardan mostly slept. Jude took to wearing Cardan’s t-shirts and workout shorts when her own set of clothes became too dirty to wear. For a week they isolated themselves in his apartment, ordering in food, watching movies in his room that he barely paid attention to. After the first few days, Jude would coax him out of bed for a few hours to watch television in the living room or play video games that he beat her at every time, even though he was barely there to play them. Cardan had become a shell of himself. He only drank water when Jude asked him to, only ate small amounts of food when she offered him a plate. But despite how he’d seemed to crawl away into himself, Jude knew he was grateful for her being there. She could tell it in the way he would grab for her hand and hold onto it like a lifeline. She could tell it in the way he would just look at her for several seconds while he ignored the TV. She could tell it in the way he kissed her without a word.

When the day of the funeral came, Jude woke up to find Cardan sitting at the foot of the bed in the middle of the night. She crawled over to him, the shirt she had borrowed from him riding up passed her thighs, which caught Cardan’s attention enough for him to place his hand on her exposed thigh as she settled in beside him. But then he leaned his head against hers and began to cry like he had that first night. Jude tucked his head against her chest and tried to make soothing sounds as she held him. When he finally spoke, just to say her name, Jude knew what he was asking before he said it.

So in the morning, when they woke up for good, Cardan got ready for the funeral before driving Jude back home for her to put on a black dress and a pair of flats. He was once again a shell of himself as he drove them to the cemetery, but the whole way there he was gripping her hand like he’d drift off to sea if he let go.

It was a cold morning, promising snow, as they made their way across the expanses of lawn to where a group of mourners stood. A few of Cardan’s sisters came to say hello and give him a hug. They asked Jude for her name but nothing else. The rest of his family ignored him, like he was a ghost at his brother’s funeral. 

An old man sat in a chair in the front row and at first Jude thought he might be a grandfather. But when he acknowledged Cardan--barked his name, really--Cardan seemed to deflate even more, shrinking to be as small as he could be despite his height. Reluctantly, he slinked over to the man. 

“Father,” he grumbled without making eye contact. Jude felt a small bit of shock at finding out this old man was Cardan’s father, not grandfather. But then she looked around her at the age of his older siblings and knew she should have realized sooner. Cardan shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, a sort of pleading, before motioning ever so slightly with his head that she should go somewhere else. There was shame in his eyes and she knew whatever his father was going to say, he didn’t want Jude to bear witness.

That’s how Jude found herself wandering the cemetery. Lost in thought, she didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she was almost out of sight of Cardan’s family and standing before two gravestones under an oak tree. Without thinking, Jude found herself leaning against the gravestone behind her as she stared at the ones before her.

She jumped at the feel of a hand on the small of her back but relaxed when Cardan’s mane of black hair came into view. They wordlessly leaned against each other for support as Cardan took in the names on the stones before them. 

On the left: Justin Duarte.

On the right: Eva Duarte.

“Your parents?” Cardan asked softly. All Jude could do was nod. “What happened to them?”

Jude gave a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t want to add to your sadness, Cardan.”

“You can tell me.” The hand he had rested on her back slid up to gently cup the back of her head. She felt so small with his hands on her, but she also felt a sense of safety in them. “If you want,” he whispered against her hairline as he gently placed a kiss to her skin. She shivered, and not just from the cold.

“Madoc used to work for the FBI. Well he still does, but this was when he was still just a regular agent and not a director,” she began. Cardan looked confused at the change in subject but let her talk without interrupting. “He and my mom met in college and she got pregnant after graduation. Madoc freaked out and ran off, leaving my mom alone with a baby Vivienne and no money to take care of her. But her best friend, Justin, came to the rescue, as he liked to say, and a year later they were married. A few years later, they had twins. They were happy. We were happy. Vivi looked different from Taryn and I but we never questioned it. After our parents died, we found out that she had known the whole time that she had a different dad, and I don’t know why that, of all things, stuck with me. But it did.

It was family game night and we were all stuffed full of junk food. I don’t even remember what game we were playing. I just remember us laughing while the radio played. And then a song came on that my father loved and he grabbed my mom’s hand and began dancing her around the kitchen while us kids pretended to be disgusted by their love but secretly we were wishing to have that same thing one day.” At this point, tears had begun to fall down Jude’s face, though her voice remained steady. Cardan began stroking circles on her back in comfort.

“You don’t have to finish the story,” he said. 

“I want to,” Jude whispered. “I’ve never told anyone this before.” 

She cleared her throat and continued, “There was this loud bang at the door. I remember all of us froze. The noise continued, and then suddenly we heard the door come crashing in. My mom’s face was completely drained of color and she told Vivi to take us and hide. There was this little hidden door in the wall that led to a tiny pantry we never used except for in games of hide and seek, and the three of us girls crammed into the space. The last time I saw my dad’s face, he was closing the door on us and saying he loved us.

There was shouting. Some terrible noises. It went on for what felt like a lifetime. And then all the noise stopped and there was some sobbing from the other room that didn’t sound like either of our parents. We were all crying too but Vivi had her hands over Taryn’s and my mouths so we wouldn’t be heard. And then there was more shouting as the police came rushing in. We heard a struggle, a gunshot, and then there was nothing but the police talking to each other and into radios and more cars pulling up outside our house.”

Jude fell silent for a moment, trying to catch her breath as the images came back to her. “See, there was a serial killer going across America at the time. He was delusional, thought he was a werewolf, so on a full moon he’d get high off all kinds of drugs and then break into a house and kill the family inside.”

Cardan sucked in a breath of recognition at the story.

“That night,” Jude said, “he chose my family. The FBI had been tracking him for months. It wasn’t until Madoc showed up to the house that he realized who the victims were. And whose child he found hiding in a cupboard in the kitchen. At that point he had remarried, was trying to have kids with his new wife, and when he saw us he thought it was his second chance to be the father he hadn’t been for Vivi. But Vivi never really forgave him for abandoning our mom in the first place. Madoc led us out of the crime scene, told us to cover our eyes. Vivi made me swear I wouldn’t look.”

“You looked. Didn’t you?” Cardan breathed.

“My parents were… torn apart. And the killer was lying face up on the carpet with a bullet through his skull. I could barely recognize my own home underneath all of the blood.”

“Jude…”

“We went to live with Madoc. He tried to be the perfect father to Vivi despite her hatred for him, but he never seemed to know what to do with Taryn and me. The rest, as they say, is history.” Jude felt like there were no words left in her.

“I’m sorry,” Cardan said softly. 

All Jude could do was shrug as Cardan wiped away her tears. “I survived,” she managed in a whisper.

After the funeral was over, they went back to Cardan’s house and collapsed in his bed still wearing their funeral clothes. They wrapped around each other quotation marks and fell asleep with their grief as, outside, snow began to fall.

--------

hope you enjoyed! 

@goblinwhoships @hizqueen4life @judexcardanxgreenbriar @pilesofriles @velarian-trash @standbislytherin @darlingod @heyheyheylemonade @cloudy-peonies @ireallyshouldsleeprn

[publiusvirgilius]

A Hard Day’s Night

Beatles-inspired Hotchfic: Your boyfriend Aaron Hotchner is tired after a long trip, but exhaustion goes out the window when he sees you.

Author's Note: I wrote this in a day! This is my first time publishing a fanfic so please be nice, but I also welcome criticism and feedback. I have a longer, plot-driven Spencer Reid story in the works if any of y'all would be interested—I promise it's less dirty than this one :) If I do post it, it would be on Wattpad, same username. Also happy to take requests! Receiving writing prompts is always fun and keeps the creative juices flowing, so please message me for any requests or just to say hi.

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

warnings: mention of statutory rape (unsub), smut (hotch), biting

word count: 2.6K

This had been one of the longest cases the BAU had seen in a long time. There had been multiple kidnappings in a small town all within a week, and just when the team thought they had apprehended the unsub, a teenager had been abducted, leading them to change the profile.

The townsfolk weren't helping, either. One would think that a small town would come together in a time of crisis, but parents were blaming each other, the teenagers were getting into trouble, trying to escape the grief of their younger siblings' disappearances through drugs and alcohol, and the local police was beginning to question the FBI's methods and abilities.

After two weeks of chasing the unsub around, the team finally caught him. The person responsible for the kidnappings had turned out to be the sheriff himself, working with a seventeen year old girl. They claimed to be in love, and their crimes had been fueled by the desire to have children of their own, which had been impossible, for statutory rape aside, the sheriff was over fifty years old and impotent.

All in all, it had been a frustrating case, and the team was more than ready to go home as soon as it was over. They arrested the couple and got them to confess just within a couple hours of figuring out that they were the ones responsible, but by the time they finished, it was past 11 p.m.

The agents all agreed that they would rather fly back home now than wait until the morning, eager to leave the small town.

This is how Aaron Hotchner found himself as the only conscious individual on the jet back home. He had always had trouble falling asleep on planes—unlike his agents, who, as soon as they boarded the craft, each found their own corner of the jet and promptly dozed off.

Aaron checked his watch. 11:45. Y/N was bound to be asleep by now. Aaron's girlfriend woke up early for work every day, and since today was Sunday, she would definitely have turned in early to prepare for work tomorrow.

Still, she had made him promise to call her when he was on his way home, especially after a case this long.

Aaron settled for a text, not wanting to wake her, even though he ached to hear her voice. He smiled as he opened up his phone to the last texts they had sent each other:

Y/N: "I miss you <3 Come home soon xx"

Aaron: "I miss you too. Say hi to Jack for me."

The last message had been a photo Y/N had sent of her and Jack snuggled up on the couch on Saturday night, his son fast asleep as a movie played in the background.

If any of his colleagues had been awake, they would have teased him about the wide grin on his face looking down at his phone. Aaron rarely let his team see his emotions, but ever since he and Y/N started dating a year ago, he found himself smiling more often. And when he had asked Y/N to move in with him a month ago and she had said yes, even the people outside of his department had noticed a difference in his mood.

The thought of Y/N erased all of the gruesome images and dark thoughts that came with the job at the BAU from Aaron's mind. And unlike a year ago, when he would spend the flight home thinking about how a case could have gone differently—which of his decisions had led to more deaths and what decisions would have prevented them, and what his job meant about the state of humanity as a whole—now, all he thought about was who he got to go home to at the end of the day.

Aaron opened up the picture of Y/N one more time, smiling at her sleepy eyes in the dim living room and the way she was holding Jack close to her chest, before typing out a text to let her know that he was coming home.

Aaron: "I'm on my way home. Should arrive by 2 a.m. but I hope you're asleep when you get this."

During the last two weeks, the time difference had made it difficult for Aaron and Y/N to find time to talk, especially since during a case, the workdays tended to end late, but Y/N had insisted on calling him each night before he went to bed.

Just tonight, Aaron hoped to relieve Y/N of a late-night call, and when she didn't text back, he breathed a content sigh. In his mind, the perfect welcome home would be cozying up next to his girlfriend in their warm bed and holding her close as she slept.

What Aaron didn't know was that Y/N was still awake. In fact, she had never gone to bed. She had put Jack to bed around 8:30 p.m., but then, she came back downstairs and set out to get ahead on this week's work with a cup of caffeinated tea as she waited up for Aaron.

As soon as the jet touched down in D.C., the team hurried to get out, eager to get home. Sometimes the BAU would go out for celebratory drinks after a case, but this time, everyone was too worn out to do anything but to go home.

"Thanks for your hard work the past two weeks," Aaron said to the team. "I know it was a long case."

"Can we please have tomorrow off?" Emily half-joked.

"You're welcome to take any of your designated sick days, Prentiss," Aaron said with a small smile.

Emily scoffed at his remark as the rest of the team snickered.

"Don't even think about calling us before 10 a.m., JJ," Derek said.

"Go home and get some rest," Aaron said. "From what I recall, a certain amount of paperwork follows a complicated case, and like it or not, tomorrow is Monday."

By the time Aaron pulled into his driveway, it was 2:30 a.m. When he got out of the car, he felt the weary effects of having been awake for eighteen hours. As he walked up to the door, Aaron started slightly when he saw that the light in the kitchen was on.

Y/N probably forgot to turn out the lights, he thought.

But he was wrong. When he stepped through the door, his weariness instantly dissipated. His briefcase dropped from his hand with a heavy thud.

Y/N was seated at the kitchen counter, clad only in one of his undershirts and a pair of thin pajama shorts, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, her large glasses balanced over her delicate nose, chewing on the tip of her pen as she pored over an array of papers. To Aaron, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing up?" Aaron asked dumbly.

"You thought I wouldn't want to see you as soon as you got home? After I haven't seen you for two weeks?" Y/N hopped down from her seat and padded across the wooden floors to her boyfriend. "Let's get you to bed, baby. You must be exhausted," she said, loosening Aaron's tie and pushing his jacket off of his shoulders.

When she touched him, it was as if she had switched on a circuit, blowing out all the resistors and capacitors. Aaron's senses caught on fire, and he burned for her touch.

"I think you've got it wrong, Y/N," Aaron said, his eyes darkening. "I will take you to bed, and I want to see you naked and coming for me as soon as possible."

Before Y/N could retort, Aaron had her thrown over his shoulder and was heading for the bedroom.

Once Aaron had her laid out on the bed, he started to remove her flimsy clothes. "I missed you. So. Much." He bit out each clipped syllable, biting and sucking behind her ear, on her neck, and on her collarbone between each utterance.

Y/N gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Jack's asleep," she whispered.

"That's none of my concern, since my mouth is going to be occupied with something else. But I suppose you'll just have to do your best to be quiet," he said.

Aaron continued kissing and licking down her chest, pausing at her breasts to tease each little pink bud with his tongue. When he reached the junction of her hips, he bit down lightly on her hipbone, causing her to cry out until she quickly bit down on her fist to quiet herself.

"Good girl." Aaron looked up at Y/N and planted a kiss near her bellybutton, his tongue briefly flicking against the hot skin. He licked across the insides of her thighs, then softly blew cool air onto them as he ran his hands up her legs, making her shiver.

When his mouth finally landed on her clit, he lapped her up like a man starved. "You're so fucking wet," he growled. "Did you miss me while I was gone? Did you touch yourself thinking about me?"

Y/N struggled to nod as her body trembled.

Aaron sucked hard on her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her, dragging them against the pebbled surface of the top. Y/N covered her face with both of her hands, trying to hold back the sounds escaping her throat.

"I want you to look at me." Aaron pulled her hands away from her face with his free hand. He stuck his thumb inside her mouth, encouraging her to suck. Y/N looked down at her boyfriend's figure, and she nearly came at the sight of him alone.

Aaron's dark, cropped hair fell over his forehead, damp with sweat. He was still in his shirt and trousers, though he had managed to roll up his sleeves, and his tie still sat loosely around his collar, its length thrown back over his shoulder as if he couldn't get to his feast fast enough.

He continued to work at her clit, his tongue flicking back and forth faster and harder as he felt Y/N's body twitch more and more out of control. When his mouth reached a near impossible rhythm, Y/N clenched her jaw, biting down on Aaron's fingers in her mouth as her body writhed, falling over and over again into an orgasmic high.

Aaron pressed a kiss to her sensitive core, then to the inside of her thighs. Running his hands up her torso, he pulled her up into a sitting position in front of him, her legs still spread wide on either side of him, and he allowed her to lean forward against his chest, against the soft cotton material of his shirt, too spent to hold up her own weight.

Y/N kissed him slowly, his mouth hot from her own heat. She took his face in her hands, feeling the light stubble across his jaw. She pulled back, taking a moment to observe his eyes. Whatever weariness had been there before, it was gone, replaced with a ravenous hunger that drank in her flushed skin and her dark, swollen lips. Y/N's pupils were blown wide with arousal, her hair had come apart, the wayward strands framing her face, and her glasses were askew, just barely balancing on the tip of her nose.

Aaron had never seen a prettier sight. He felt like a soldier come home to see his wife after years of war, like Odysseus returned to his wife Penelope after ten long years. Wait a second... Wife? Where did that come from?

Aaron reached out to pull off Y/N's glasses from her face, then tipped up her chin to catch her lips again with his own.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Y/N finally pulled his tie loose, tossing it off to the side of the bed, and she carefully unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers moving nimbly but gently. Aaron tended to come back from his cases with bruises and scratches that always made Y/N's heart ache to see, but at the same time, it filled her with pride, not to mention turned her on, to know that her boyfriend was out saving the world, one bad guy at a time.

This time, Aaron had been spared any major or minor injuries, but still, Y/N took her time undressing him, kissing the old scars as she went.

Once she had stripped him bare, Aaron took her hands in his and pressed a deep kiss to her lips once again. Y/N reached down to take his stiff cock in her hands, but Aaron shook his head and pushed her back down onto the bed.

"I want to feel you," he said. "Now." He lay down beside her so that they faced each other, and he fingered her clit between them, making her arch into him. Aaron hissed when she grabbed his ass, digging her nails into the firm flesh, making him jerk his hips involuntarily.

He pushed the head of his cock into her tight core, and Y/N held her breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his familiar form meld into her, a feeling she hadn't felt in weeks. A feeling she couldn't imagine how she could have gone without for this long.

"Open your eyes, Y/N," Aaron said in a breathy tone.

Y/N locked eyes with Aaron for only half a second before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and hunger and longing. Pulling his body closer to her so that no space remained between them, Y/N buried her face in his neck, biting at the sensitive skin, then biting down on his shoulder especially hard when he hit a certain spot inside her.

Aaron wrapped one of her legs around himself to access her body at a better angle, and he felt her muffled moans vibrating against his shoulder. Fisting his hand in her hair and gripping her hip with his other hand, he increased the intensity of his thrusts until he was nearly falling over the edge, a jumbled string of curses leaving his mouth.

Y/N arched into him, her hardened nipples to sliding against his chest through the thin layer of sweat that mingled across their bodies, and her own hips started, her leg locking his body against hers  in a vice-like grip, tumbling once again over the edge, moaning Aaron's name against his skin over and over.

Aaron groaned his own release, pulling Y/N’s head back by her hair so that he could look at her face as she came apart, falling into pleasure and more in love with this girl whose lips were still muttering his name as she came down from her high.

"Aaron," she said between labored breaths. "Don't you ever leave me again. I don't want to spend another night without you."

Holding her in his arms, his eyes sweeping over her angelic face, Aaron would have given her the world if he could, and still, it wouldn't be close to what she deserved. He placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured empty promises against her skin, both knowing that eventually, he would leave, but also knowing that he would always come back, and that she would always be his waiting home.

[fuckingthefictional]

Cross my heart - part 1

Warnings: the extensive use of the word fuck, war, (probably) historical inaccuracies.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fenton!OFC, platonic!John Shelby x OFC.

Read Part 2 here

The station was practically empty, only a few stray people lingered around the grimy platforms. Ready to escape the hellish streets of Birmingham, although no major city was any better. London was just as much if not more of a shithole, as was Liverpool now that Eliza thought about it.

But Birmingham was the worst. It was dirty and crime-riddled and unless you had the money (which most did not) you were almost entirely fucked.

Eliza Fenton grew up with her brother in Small Heath. Harry, was a good few years older than she was and he was always supportive of the actions and plans in her life.

He was there right by her side when she was accepted into aviation school, he knew about her dream to become a pilot. Harry was always there, always there to support you.

Well - most of the time. Enlisting in the war as a pilot was the only time Harry had been completely against an idea of hers.

The fact that she, a young woman, had even been allowed to enlist was enough of a reason for Eliza to sign up. She knew she was a damn good pilot and she never turned down an opportunity to prove herself.

So on the 7th of August 1914, Eliza Fenton enlisted into the 35th RFC squadron. At first, when she arrived at the base it was strange- it was foreign and new. A lot of the other pilots didn’t understand why there was a woman on site.

Eventually, they understood why- Eliza was the best at routine checks, mechanics and overall fighting skills.

Little Tigress they’d call her- Small but feisty.

When Eliza came back to Small Heath, it was nice to see that not much had changed. The streets were still stained with ash, and the people were still absolutely fucking horrible.

It may look the same, but Eliza knew better than that- she knew that everything had changed.

That the men were all struggling to keep up their jobs because of the trauma from the battlefield. That the wives and widows were struggling to keep their heads above the water as the financial weight kept pressing down onto them.That the children would cry out to their fathers and brothers, not knowing they would never get a response. As much as everyone didn’t want to admit, the war had changed the people and not for the better either.

//

Opening the door to the garrison, Eliza allowed herself to become familiar with the loud chatter and smoky atmosphere. She didn’t know how much she had missed the pub before- how much of a comfort the rowdy crowds were.

She walked up to the bar, watching as a young blonde-haired woman served up drinks.

‘She’s new’ Eliza thought to herself. But to her left, she could see the back of her brother’s head, Harry was making small talk through the hatch to the private room.

That could only mean one thing. At least one of the Shelby’s were here.

As much as Eliza hated to remember, the memories kept flooding back in ongoing waves. But she pushed it into the back of her mind.

Instead, the brown-haired beauty walked behind the bar, she had always been allowed behind it- considering she was the sibling of the owner. But as soon as Eliza stepped foot in the area that was off-limits to the patrons, she felt a strong grip on her arm.

“You can’t be back here, Miss.”

Eliza looked up to see the blonde barmaid, she stared coldly at the woman. There was something about her that made Eliza’s body tingle with mistrust.

Ripping her arm away, she continued her walk to her brother. Eliza found herself picking up a bottle of whiskey from under the counter and unscrewing the cap, she took a large swig. The liquid burned her throat but warmed her insides.

The Irish voice spoke again, “Look if you don’t get out from behind the counter. I’ll be forced to ask you to leave.”

Eliza just chuckled, “Aye, good luck trying love.”

The small argument had obviously caught the attention of a few of the drinkers of the Garrison. It slowly fell hushed and the men at the end of the bar turned to face the two women.

Eliza smirked at her brother, “Afternoon, you ugly bastard.”

“Liza?”, Harry paced over and embraced his younger sister in his arms. They swayed gently and soon broke apart. The barman held the young woman at arm's length checking her over for injuries. “You’re back for good, Aye?”

“Aye- I’m back for good.”

//

“Why’d it take you so long to come back?”

They were sat in the private room, it had been left empty after the oldest Shelby left to conduct “business”. It was now occupied by the two Fenton siblings.

“Bloody war office.” Eliza inhaled deeply, the cigarette smoke-filled her lungs, “They said they couldn’t give me a Victoria Cross- said it’d cause too much controversy, ‘cos I’m a bloody woman.”

A look of anger washed across her brother's face, “Bloody bastards, half of ‘em didn’t even go through what you an’ our boys did. Bloody cowards the lot of ‘em.”

Eliza nodded her head in agreement and silently took out a small stack of letters from her purse, she handed them to Harry and motioned for him to read them.

She watched as his eyes skimmed through the writing, his face contorted in anger as he read the contents.

“Fucking, bloody bastards!”

Eliza just replied with a simple shrug, as she watched her older brother rant.

“What do they think their playing at ‘ay? Bloody bastards know what you did for our fuckin’ country for fuck's sake and they can’t even publically acknowledge it.”

Harry was pacing at this point, his hands flailing wildly in anger, “What horseshit! ‘We regret to inform you that your services on March 7th, 1917 must stay within your person.’ They make you sound like a fucking whore- not a bloody soldier.”

“Who sounds like a whore Harry?” A cold voice came from the doorway. Thomas fucking Shelby.

“Ah sorry Mr Shelby, I was just off on one. It’s a family matter you see, government are being bastards.”

Eliza snorted, “When are they not being bloody bastards Haz?”

Her soft voice caught the attention of the middle Shelby. He smirked slightly, “I like her.”

He walked into the room as Eliza began to put away her things, the opening of the door indicated the appearances of the other Shelby brothers.

“Eliza bloody Fenton!”

Eliza’s head shot up at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Y’alright Johnny boy? Still a pompous prick I see.”

The two other brothers looked at the woman incredulously, ready to come to their youngest brothers defense.

John just barked out a laugh, “and you’re still a frigid bitch.” Eliza laughed softly as John wrapped an arm around his old friend, “I say we need a bottle of whiskey and a catch-up.”

Tommy, knocked on the hatch, only for it to be opened by the blonde-haired girl. She glared at Eliza, jealousy radiated off of her face.

“Aye up Grace, can we get some whiskeys in here?”

‘Grace’ nodded silently a flirty smile working its way to her lips. Eliza just rolled her eyes.

John’s voice pulled her back to the room, “So how’ve you been El?”

Eliza let herself laugh, “Oh brilliant,” she said sarcastically, “The post-trauma just really makes my life amazing.”

“That’s what you get when ya’ sleep with our John.”

The youngest Shelby glared at his brother and a low rumbling of laughter momentarily shook the room, as the two older siblings looked back at the young woman sat next to John

“And how do you know our John ‘ay?”

This time it was Eliza and John who shared a look.

Eliza cleared her throat, “We were stationed together for a bit, in France. I saved good old Johnny’s arse on the field.”

Arthur and Tommy just turned to look at John, seeking the truth from their brother. John just gave them a nod- rendering your story to be true.

“Eliza Fenton, flight Seargent and lieutenant of the 35th squadron of the RFC.” She introduced herself and saluted jokingly.

“Some of her squadron were pulled in for ground support in the Somme, Eliza shot down a most of the German artillery men who were shooting at us.” John expanded on his friend’s wartime legacy, “Saved my arse on several occasions.” He clarified.

The room was silent for a moment before Tommy spoke up, “Well I suppose we owe you one Miss Fenton, We’re forever grateful for you actions and saving our John.”

“It’s no problem really. He’d of done it for me.” The sentiment was cut short when Harry knocked on the door and returned with the remaining letters, he was angrily muttering to himself.

“Harry!”

The older brother was red in the face, “I’ll fucking kill them- I swear it!” He slammed the letters on the table.

“You need to calm down.” Eliza chastised her brother, “There’s nothing we can do- believe me I’ve bloody tried.”

She took another deep inhale from the cigarette between her fingers, “there’s no point getting into a piss when you can’t change their minds- just let it go for now, aye?”

Harry just turned and exited the room mumbling profanities under his breath.

“The fuck was that about?”

The pilot turned to her friend, “Read these. They’ll explain everything.”

//

John had the same reaction as Harry.

“What a fuckin’ pisstake.”

Eliza rubbed her temples- it was like deja vu.

“They won’t award you a Victoria cross because you’re a fuckin’ woman.”

She just sighed again, “I always found it funny though- they didn’t even want to give me my fuckin’ ranks when I was over there. Even though I worked hard for the fucking things.” Eliza found herself reaching for the crystal glass once more, “the fuckin’ polish artillery squadron gave a bloody bear a rank with no issue.” The liquid burnt her throat, “but me? It might’ve caused controversy so they took their bloody time deciding.”

“It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Eliza laughed shortly, “you’re tellin’ me. And after all the shit I went through too.”

The girl took a short breath, “look there's absolutely no point in getting annoyed over something out of our control- we’d just be wasting time on something other than getting piss drunk.”

Arthur sent a smirk over in her direction, “I like the way this one thinks.”

//

The rest of the night consisted of the Shelby boys and Fenton girl, knocking back countless bottles of alcohol. It was a nice feeling, to be carefree and not have to worry about the past or future.

Although Eliza had a high alcohol tolerance- she could safely admit that the Shelby brothers were several levels higher than her on the drinking scale.

And if there was one thing that Eliza Fenton knew- it was never to try and outdrink a Shelby.

She knew her limits, and after the 8th round of drinks, Eliza decided to settle instead for her hand-rolled cigarettes.

She and John caught up over the course of the evening- Christ, even Arthur was engaging in conversation.

But the one thing Eliza couldn’t shake off was the cool and calculating gaze from the middle brother. Thomas had barely spoken two words since they’d started drinking.

Any other girl would have been put off by that fact, but Eliza was different. She wasn't there to impress the men of the garrison, she wasn’t beckoning for the attention either.

And yet here she was with Tommy’s full attention and gaze on her frame. Watching her like a meal, or how a predator would look at their prey. Eliza was aware of their past meetings together, even if Tommy didn’t.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Wolf Song | Bangchan x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Werewolf AU

Pairing: Werewolf!Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past violence, wounds and blood, dom!/top!Bangchan, oral (f, receiving), unprotected sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), love confessions, swearing/cussing, our lovely werewolf is basically on his rut.

Summary: Shock has the power to erase horrific memories that denial keeps trying to nullify with reason. However, what if it appears the explanation lies beyond the boundaries of the natural? And what if your brother’s best friend is the reason for the damage that has been done?

Moreover, can human tears really be blamed for the crimes of a wolf song?

Masterlist

Sometimes one can experience the extraordinary link between life and death when circumstances almost take away the former, leaving solely a corpse to mourn due to being rescued too late.

If help comes too late.

‘Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay.’

Or a mind is saved just in time.

‘She’s fine.’ 

‘Let me see her.’ A familiar voice is on the brink of crying behind the closed door. ‘Please, Jisung, I need to make sure.’

‘She needs her rest. I could stop the bleeding before we got to safety but if I hadn’t been there you’d...’ 

Silence.

Speaking.

‘You’d have killed her.’

Loathing invisible fists.

‘Killed my sister.’

‘I- I didn’t mean to- I never wanted-’

‘I know, Chan. Let’s just wait until she wakes up, alright?’ There should have been hatred lacing the edges of the rhetorical question but there is not, merely genuine concern prepared to forgive. 

‘Jisung, could I... could I please wait at her bedside instead? I’m alright now, I think. I don’t feel the wolf anymore.’

Feel the wolf anymore?

Beside the worry for a sibling, though, there is a graver version for it as well which is directed more towards an old friend than the injured party meant to be asleep. ‘Are you sure?’

‘As sure as I can be.’ Melancholia blends funnily with reassurance in the light voice that comes around the house often yet has never been conversed with properly. After all, when it visits, it is because of the resident squirrel and not his sister. She is but a third wheel, a sidekick. 

‘I’ll make some breakfast.’ Footsteps heading towards the stairs, turning around before ascending the steps. ‘Oh, and Chan?’ 

‘Yeah?’

‘We’re cool.’

The low chuckle sounds happier than it would have otherwise after a bickering fight, containing an odd sense of relief. ‘Good.’

Lashes flutter shut swiftly at the door clicking open and just as softly closing as padding feet approach. Wheels roll over wood, the fake alabaster leather desk chair pulled over to be put beside the bed. Touch is awakened by the warmth enveloping the hand resting on the pastel pink and mute grey sheets. And it takes all strength to not give away the truth by flinching thanks to feeling plush lips pressing against the back of it, safely wrapped in calloused palms speaking in a quivering heart-wrenching fashion. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to- fuck. Why am I like this? Why can’t I fucking control myself?’

‘Chris?’ The act is broken up, sensing the heavily shaking shoulders barely suppressing sobs. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I- I’m sorry fo- for waking you.’ Ashy brown locks might partially obscure earthly irises, but the shock running through the panicked sadness remains evidently noticeable. It makes digits ache to reach out and soothe the negativity yet refrain from doing so as it would be inappropriate.

I am a third wheel. Nonetheless, this seems personal. What happened that we’re like this?

‘I’ve been awake for a while. Long enough to hear you and Jisung talk.’ A laborious and agonizing attempt at sitting up is made, which would have painfully failed had it not been for the veined hand acting as support. It holds the back in place while fluffing up some pillows to lean against, languidly guiding the spine in its soft descent and allowing the stinging in the sides and upper arm to nullify into a dull throbbing again. ‘God-fucking-dammit. There we go. Thanks.’

‘No need to thank me. It’s the least I can do since... since,’ a deep shivering sigh hardly manages to conceal the crack in speech, ‘since it’s my fault.’

‘How do you mean?’ A weak encouraging squeeze asks the fingers still holding on to spill the beans, clarifying what has possibly caused this fuss resulting in heartbreakingly upset messy strands.

I don’t feel the wolf anymore.

However, the explanation can barely be registered by logic. ‘I’m a monster, the reason you’re wounded. I couldn’t lock myself away fast enough.’

‘Lock away? I don’t understand. We had a good night, didn’t we?’ It was a simple movie marathon with the boys, sitting around the glass table set for three and eating ramen and tteokbokki together.

Withal, that was before. 

Before the claws.

Before the fangs.

Before the blood loss.

‘I should have gone earlier. If we’d gone out on that stroll later, you definitely could’ve... could’ve-’

It takes some uncharacteristic audacity, but with a soft tug on the hand still held Chan is pulled against the chest. Fingers disentangle as one pair caresses ashy brown locks while free arms warily wrap around the middle, luckily just above the scarlet indentations. ‘Shh, whatever happened, happened.’

‘Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.’ The big nose often unconsciously tempting to be kissed nuzzles the collar bone, pressing tears into the skin. ‘Wha- What do you remember?’

‘Nothing but fragments.’ It is the truth, solely reminiscing shards of glass and strange night-shaded fur floating to the surface of the memory of furrowed brows. Everything passed in a lightning fashion, too swiftly to recall anything accurately and worsened by shock. 

‘Not me transforming?’

‘Transforming? Chris, what are you on about?’

I don’t feel the wolf anymore.

‘Wait, I heard you say something about a beast living within you, but surely you aren’t... no, that’s ridiculous.’ Clinical lycanthropy is a real phenomenon, not the monsters the patients imagine themselves to be. 

‘No, it’s not. It’s real.’ A clash of heads is barely avoided as ashen locks rapidly retreat, staring wide-eyed at a disbelieving face. 

A light shake clears the vivid imagery pushing through the veil of shock to paint a moving repeat of last night. A false depiction of what happened. ‘I tripped over my own feet and crashed into the glass table. That’s what happened.’

‘Y/N, don’t lie.’ A trusted palm dusted lightly with dark hairs cups the cheek in an uncharacteristically intimate fashion. Withal, it is merely a friendly gesture, devoid of meaning. There is nothing between us. Yet, the pleading tone holds the suggestion of having more value than originally thought although thinking is hard when one is aching. ‘We both know that isn’t what happened.’

‘Chris, you’re not a werewolf.’ Brows knit together in confusion, thinking that if anyone should be delirious it has to be the actually injured party. Nonetheless, the assumption is far from the truth judging by the caressing thumb of melancholic earthly irises. 

‘I am. You know I am. Why do you think I have kept my distance?’

‘I simply thought you didn’t like me all that much. Merely saw me as Han’s sister, tolerated me for his sake.’ Never had there been an actual conversation or a proper vis-a-vis like now, always looking away or simply humming in vague acknowledgement while feigning interest. The spark of hope erasing every other heartbeat is unjust, the storm of butterflies raging in the stomach bound to fade away instantly in an emotional negative tornado. 

‘No. Jesus, no. I have always liked you. More than that, I am crazy about you since you stumbled down the stairs in one of your brother’s hoodies when I first dropped by.’ Ashamedly, the cheek is left in the chill of the rain blowing in through the crack of the slightly opened window, though the blankets do not provide as much warmth against it as the bubbly giggle falling from roseate lips. ‘However, I have to say that that black hoodie suits you way better.’

Likely done when unconscious, Jisung has replaced the bloodied tight-fitting alabaster shirt with a V-neck - put on in the vain unconscious hope to be noticed - with a favourite piece often dressed in upon coming home regardless of the weather. It might be oversized but it is basically what a comfort blanket might be for others. ‘This one? The one Han got me for my birthday?’

‘It wasn’t him who gave it to you.’ Teeth bite down on the bottom lip shyly looking away, fingers fumbling over each other as words come hesitatingly and stumbling. ‘You just never got the note. It’s from, well, uhm, my own wardrobe.’

At once, cheeks feel as if they burn like fire thanks to the confession and so the collar of the piece of clothing is pulled up to hide them. Withal, for a split second, they are shown again when remembering where the hoodie stems from only to conceal themselves in it again for it is the safest place to hide. The other safe haven is beneath the blankets, but it would look incredibly weird to sit across from Chris like a pile of sheets or, rather, a cheap-looking ghost. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Although, never mind. You wanted to keep your distance.’

‘Only to prevent exactly what happened. I wanted to try getting closer to you at last but stupidly forgot last night was the night of the full moon.’ The timid digits no longer struggle with one another, instead having found a new sort of purpose by plucking nervously at the duvet with an averted sullen gaze. ‘You must hate me.’

‘No, I don’t.’ There is a prominent musky scent as fingers soothe the ones clenching the blanket, folding around them to make the mental ungrounded agony stop. ‘Look at me.’

Because, after all, it is still him.

Still the same koala-like nose.

Still the same kind character. 

Still Chan.

‘Babygirl, you-’ The eyes heeding the command widen in shock. The racing heart starts fluttering, floating just as it has calmed down before the slip of the tongue. ‘I- I mean, Y/N. Y/N, you-’

‘You’ve never called me that before.’ The notice comes out on a breath, sounding ridiculously delighted in spite of it not meaning anything. There is nothing but vague friendship between us.

That is all there is.

Or mayhaps not.

‘I- God, this is embarrassing, but- well- uhm, I have many times. But only... in my head.’ All nervousness fades from digits, a warm smile forming as confidence is found. ‘It’s what I call you before everything goes black and I’m lost.’

‘You think of me?’ The novel confession spreads the hot glow of content further throughout, overjoyed at the love which has been hidden until now likely being reciprocated

‘All the time. Even more so on the nights I’m a time bomb.’ A mirthless chuckle sounds in the hush, mocking the violence living within. 

‘Since when?’ The question has a double meaning, inquiring about the length of the crush and the age of the beast beneath the skin of alluring musky chocolate milk locks. 

‘I’m born this way, but it’s actively been going on since I turned sixteen.’

‘And we met...’

‘The day after.’ A lop-sided smirk forms on a kind whispering mouth, shoulders briefly rising and falling with a barely suppressed airy giggle. ‘Yeah, that long.’

‘Four years. Four years and you didn’t say anything. Then again, no never mind.’ What wants to be said is swallowed, too afraid of the confessional impact to continue talking. 

‘Then again what? Tell me.’

‘I didn’t say anything as well. Because you’re my brother’s best friend so I thought it’d be awkward if I would make it obvious I liked you.’ Hence is why the abyss was never fully bridged, always stumbling back after daring to set a step forward. Silencing any topic of conversation popping up in thought each time, the amiable though distant hush had been maintained thus far.

But sometimes the establishing of bridges is merely a matter of time. 

‘In a way you did by wearing that hoodie each time I dropped by.’

‘Not consciously! It’s simply my favourite piece.’ Lips purse in defiance, coaxing out a giggle and earning a feverish kiss on the back of the hand. ‘Even more so now that I know where it really comes from.’

Which is followed by an equally hot kiss on the forehead as we both lean in, palms letting go and settling on thighs. Securing each other in a little world of our own, needing nothing else. ‘You have no idea what hearing that means to me.’

‘Chan, whatever you think, you’re not a monster.’ Mouths brush over one another, the nose suggestively nudging the young wolf’s with the underlying suggestion to go beyond chaste actions. ‘You’re not.’

‘Don’t tempt me like this, babygirl. You need to rest and eat some breakfast.’ The grip on the thigh tightens, body contradicting words and betraying having taken notice of the slight shuffle towards the edge of the mattress. Voice has reduced to mesmerizing growling, invoking imaginations that the tone is possessive and meant for a selfishly dreaming girl wanting everything too fast. Although, perhaps it is quite an innocent fierce longing since this is the first time a crush has been answered, not that the emotions simmering within have ever been turned towards somebody else. ‘I’ll go check if Jisung is done cooking.’

‘Please, stay a little longer. We can eat later.’ Fingertips trace the sharp jawline and rise to the cheek where they draw undefined intricate patterns. ‘Just a few more moments.’

‘Really, it’s better if I should go entirely. I think... I think that, hmm~’ Lashes flutter close as the touch is leaned into, a peck on the wrist encouraging of keeping on going. ‘Think that the revelation, hmm, feels good. Reve- you smell incredible. Uhm, yeah, revealing I’m a werewolf is more than enough.’

Unfortunately, the happiness of intimacy does not last as eyes spring open unexpectedly and remove themselves in an instant. Clumsily, the ivory desk chair is rolled away from the bed and gotten up from with a grunting flinch. I’ll tell Han you’re awake and- hrm.’ 

The cause of the hurt is obvious though it does not invoke any personal awkward feelings thanks to having a brother and thus having witnessed the manly problem many times. In contrast to the familiar atmosphere of the situation, this time bold sensual anticipation overtakes demeanour bit by slow bit. 

Fortunately, it has not influenced voice, which remains seriously steady. ‘Uhm, Chan? Are you alright?’ 

Nonetheless, it has to be said there is a difference between a sibling having to deal with the issue in comparison to Chan dealing with the very same problem. Namely, that in the case of the latter, the mind runs wild as fancy causes an incredible heat between thighs rubbing against each other to find some secret relief as the heat overtakes all.

Which does not go unnoticed by irises turned into basalt. ‘Yeah, it’s just that I’m- that I’m... in... season.’ The way of the tongue accelerates, awkwardness creeping into vocal and physical manner. ‘Anyway, I’m gonna go.’

The steps heading towards the door leave behind too cold of a lonely wake, instinct immediately urging to lunge forward to grab at anything that might lead to a reunion. Clearly, the wounds do not appreciate the effort, the dull throbbing increasing to a pain akin to being torn apart. Nevertheless, the agony is persevered through with hissing audibly, this being eventually what drives Chris to run back and force an eejit to lie in the same position as before. ‘Don’t do that, you idiot! The wounds can spring open again if you move too much.’

‘Sorry.’ Apologetic fingers brush over the arm draped over thighs, revelling in the feel of the soft dark hairs and hot pale skin. The sensations evoke a dreamy tone, glad to be warm again thanks to contact instead of being left behind in the rainy chill seeping from beneath the curtains. ‘You’re like a walking hearth fire.’

‘One of the advantages.’ Instead of pulling back the chair, the young wolf sits on the edge of the bed and affectionately runs his fingers through dishevelled locks. ‘I’m never cold.’

Sincere innocent happiness fades away into suggestion at the renewed closeness in a hypnotizing musky air. ‘Must be nice.’

A pained grunt disturbs the tranquillity when foreheads come to rest against each other and palms wrap around the buff biceps bared by the short sleeves of the onyx printed shirt. Nails dig lightly into the muscle, the action rewarded with a delightful low growl failed to be muffled against the lips. ‘Shit, the things I want to do to you.’

Teeth bite down on the bottom lips of closed eyes fancying what lies on the horizon, hoping speech is honeyed enough to reach it. ‘Whatever they are, I���m sure I can handle it.’

Too fast, this is going too fast. But... I want to. I want this.

‘Not while you’re wounded.’ Through a crack in a lowered voice, the sweetness of the human beneath the influence of whatever beast he carries within shines through. 

‘You’re likely in more pain than I am at the moment.’

‘It’s not worth risking your health over, babygirl.’ A kiss on the forehead should silence the topic yet it does all but that, pouting in silence begging for what, apparently, cannot be.

‘I don’t think anything’s at stake in my case, considering you’re the one trying to hump the mattress.’ The teasing demon creeps further into attitude and makes it starkly contrast with the exterior that had been shown for four years. Even the tongue is affected by the shift in the atmosphere, speaking after placing a sweetened kiss on a koala-like nose at last. ‘Bet you’d rather hump my leg or rut against my ass. Is that what you dream about whenever you’re in season?’

‘Yea- Yes.’ Hips futilely try to find friction in empty air, moving barely yet noticeably from peripheral vision. Teeth bite down on the bottom lip, hardly muffling any animalistic sounds erupting from the throat uncensored and increasing the temperature of two burning faces. 

God, he looks handsome even when he’s desperate.

‘What do I wear?’ What is also endearing aside from finally having an answered crush, is the confession of being thought of even in a perverse manner. Not to say a corrupted sense of love is innate but it might be so regardless though it comes to full bloom as the years pass. Suffice it to note, too, that similar personal thoughts have oft if not always wandered to Chan as well. 

‘The hoo- hoodie I, ah, gave you and no- nothing underneath.’

‘Like now?’ It takes a wee bit of effort and awkward wriggling, but eventually, boxers are slid down the legs and tossed on the floor from under the duvet.

Like a true wolf, ashy brown locks turn to the spot where the discarded undergarments lie with a brief sniff of the air. Basalt irises glaze over with a dark haze as they turn back to cheeky ones feigning innocence, secretly satisfied with the hard to miss frenzy that is endeavoured to be subdued. ‘You truly don’t want this. It’s the influence of the pheromones I’m emitting that makes you act this way.’

‘Maybe. But maybe I want that hard throbbing wolf cock inside me?’ Weak hands pull at the jet black shirt clenched tightly, resorting to full begging and thus giving in to the sensual thoughts that keep spinning around uncontrollably. ‘Please, Chan~ I’m cold.’

All sanity is lost at last, all blankets pulled to the empty side of the bed in one rash sweep. The mattress dips under the additional weight of a chocolate milk wolf who remains enough of himself to carefully spread thighs, doing so after pulling up the hoodie that was once his entirely over the waist. 

Before any word can be uttered, all vocabulary is erased in an arched back experiencing the cherishing by a wet warmth never thought to feel this amazing. To show appreciation for the firm grip on thighs and act of pleasure, messy strands are affectionately caressed. ‘That’s it. That’s a good bo- ah!’

But the gesture is not received kindly by the youth driven to the brink of madness, canines sinking into flesh to silence the praise with a high-pitched squeak that, hopefully, will not rouse Jisung into bounding up the stairs. The tongue laps the crimson away, soothing the sting before placing an almost laughably apologetic kiss on the wound while growling. ‘I’m not your good boy. I’m your wolf, not some submissive pup. Understood?’ Frantic nodding is rewarded by a predatory smirk, enjoying the sight of being reduced to a delirious mess already. ‘That’s my good girl.’

The renewed satisfaction becomes grander as clear pleasure is found in the helpless mewls as any sliver of logic is erased sliver by sliver, the lover nullifying any trace the second it returns. ‘You taste good, babygirl. Shit, incredibly sweet.’ A rough lick by glistening lips makes the back arch even further, too overwhelmed by the sensation to notice the pain of the wounds. ‘Fertile. Yet, I bet you feel even better.’

Amidst the sensual chaos within, voice is found and found longing for a deeper connection instead of shallow howbeit wonderful teasing. Suddenly shy, a finger curls over the upper lip. ‘Only one way to find out.’

Chan rises from the end of the bed to loom over a body feeling very small though secure in the shadow of the blocked-out light. The tips of digits trace over the timid jaw, placing a kiss on the tip of the nose in pure affection. ‘I’ll try to hold back. Where can’t I touch?’

‘Both sides and the right biceps.’ A comic thumb gives approval of everything else, tone light when speaking up. ‘For the rest I’m good.’

Foreheads rest against each other in the hush filled by the distant sound of an unbuckling belt and jeans pulled to ankles alongside underwear. Although we both know what is about to ensue, Chris nevertheless huskily proposes a final way out. A path that does not want to be taken. ‘We can still stop.’

‘I don’t want to.’ Arms snake around the back of a heated musky neck, wanting the fever to heat a body aching to be touched and no longer take note of the rainy chill. ‘I want- oh, fuck!’

Inch by inch, fanned-out locks are tormented by the manifestation of unchecked desire, tears rolling down the cheeks hiding the truth of the happiness behind the connection. Instinct urges to fight the intrusion, sharp growls holding a concerned undertone buzzing against lips parted in a silent scream for mercy. ‘Try to relax, babygirl. You’re, ah, shit! Hah, heh, you’re clenching very hard.’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just that- dammit!’ Anew, the head is thrown back into the soft pillows as a pain worse than the one of ripped-open skin sears through every nerve. Meek palms clutch the milk chocolate wolf tighter, the feeling of being torn apart kept afloat by a grounding presence. ‘It hurts, Chris.’

A tear is kissed away on a worried whisper trying to suppress the animal beneath the skin, nuzzling the nose after erasing salt. ‘I can pull out.’

‘No, don’t! It’s not- It’s not because of the wounds but the stretch.’

Foreheads come to rest against each other once more, dark irises having gained a bright amber undertone caught between humanity and beast. ‘There’s no rush. Breathe. I’m almost in entirely.’ Nails dig into broad shoulders as the last bit of the physical abyss is bridged. A kiss under the jaw distracts from the odd sense of fulfilment unlike any of its similar emotions. A calloused hand dusted by dark hairs vaguely scented by pine leaves and soil caresses they cheek affectionately, its counterpart clenching the nearest pillow for support. ‘Ha, there you go. I promise it’s gonna feel good.’

Hips maintain a calm steady pace only for a few moments before the wolf is driven mad by being kept subdued in its chase for primal ecstasy. Nevertheless, through the snarled praises and smiles breaking up kisses, there remains the same boy who was met four years ago. The same guy who has dropped by on more than one evening to cook dinner, was there during both Jisung’s and personal graduation ceremony like we were there for his, has always shown up on our birthdays as we always do on his. 

It is not the creature of the night. 

No, the ashen locks throwing their head back while growling, though the sound borders more on purring, when not resting in close comfort to a girl with love or placing bites on the throat, licking away carmine, can only be one person.

Chris.

‘You’re beautiful. God, our pups couldn’t have a better mother. But... but-’ Unexpectedly, a crack breaks down the wild demeanour and brings a floating mind down enough to rationally register the grave attitude of watery darkened amber making love instead of mindlessly fucking. ‘I- I’m so, so sorry. Fo- For hurting you. I guess that- Your scent must’ve- I can’t remember. One moment I was holding you and the- the next... nothing makes sense. I- I wanted to bring u- us here, hrm, grm, to this point when y- you’d be ready for it. Only if you- you’d like me back, of course.’

The memory of being close must have been erased thanks to the shock and rapidity of events, but one thing has remained certain throughout. And this unwavering point has to be made to the panting face hiding in the crook of an attacked neck, warming it further with tears. Henceforth, palms envelop salt-streaked cheeks and forces for brighter doubting and apologetic gold to see the truth in entirely human honest eyes. ‘I do like you. A lot. Always have. From the- the, ah, the moment we met.’

‘Even when you know what I’m capable of? Do you still want a pack, uhm, wait, that was-’ A snarl rolls from the tongue at the ever-going pleasure, the season not allowing the man beneath the animal to prevent the alternate ego from continuing its bloodline. ‘A family. D- Do you want a family with me?’

‘One day, Chan.’ A kiss on the bridge of the nose is followed up by one on the forehead, both received with an audible rumble bordering on a purr. ‘Let’s take it one day at a time.’

‘You’d look pretty, though.’ A low chuckle is fueled by the futuristic ideal, adorable even though its full conviction is not yet nullified. ‘Belly round, breasts swollen. Glowing brighter than you do now.’

‘We’re still young, Chris.’ A peck is placed on the inside of the wrist, fingertips rubbing through the thin hairs on the veined arm. ‘Later, later we can have a family of our own. Not now.’

The chin is turned back towards illuminated gold, the wolf and boy both already dreaming happily of what will be on the horizon. ‘I’ll hold you to that. One day. You. Me. And our little cubs.’ Every word is accentuated by a sharp thrust, reaching deep to sprint across the last distance to a joyous blank second. ‘One day.’

Lips pressed against each other, it takes merely three more thrusts for both minds to tumble into oblivion and forget everything for a few blissful moments. Musk fades away into a vague forest and fresh deodorant though a trace remains, kisses become lazy as closed lashes steadily regain vision and open to those of the one who has been wanted all this time.

The kind hands of fully human earthly irises help put on the discarded boxer after retrieving a towel from the wardrobe and gently clean up the alabaster mess, each movement making up for the discomfort of breaking up the bodily spell. Once clean and somewhat dressed again, Chris pulls the blankets back over bare legs, drapes an extra fuzzy blanket over the shoulders and places a chaste kiss on the forehead. ‘I’ll go see how Jisung’s getting along. But... did it... hurt?’

‘Yes, though only in the beginning. You kept your promise.’ Fingers entwine and are pulled down for a quick playful peck on the lips. ‘It did feel good. Amazing, in fact.’

Sitting down, a content hum underlines the response, relieved at having kept the promise of pleasure. ‘I’m glad it did because I still felt as if I was too rough.’

‘You can let go next time?’ Though voiced as a suggestion, the certainty nevertheless seeps through. Of course, it cannot be known what losing control will entail but surely it cannot be that bad that it is life-threatening. 

‘Not until you’re fully healed and even then I might not. I’m still, you know...’ Teeth bite down on the bottom lip stuck on the end of the sentence, reluctant to finish it and let fragments of horrific memories arise from their jumbled maze. 

‘Chris, how many times do I need to say it? You’re not a monster nor do I blame you for the wounds.’ 

‘You should because I’m-’

‘Shh, let’s stop talking about this.’ Entwined digits are squeezed lightly before bringing them up for a kiss on the back of the wolf’s hand by a calm demeanour. ‘We’ll work things out one day at a time.’

The repeat of an earlier promise is managed with a sliver of a smile, twinkling lights dancing in eyes. ‘One day at a time.’

‘Now, be a good boy and-’ The joking albeit suggestive remark that was to be made gets cut off with an odd sound stuck between a shriek and a moan, ashy brown locks leaning in to sink sharp canines into the little skin which had not been branded before.

‘I’m still not your good boy, babygirl. I’ll never be.’ The more purring than growling tongue dances over the inflicted damage, soothing the pain as hands let go. ‘If I’m one thing, it’s your wolf.’

‘And my, uhm, my... boy... friend?’ Flustered hot cheeks barely dare to ask the question, doubtful of how to go from here after what has transpired. 

Fortunately, their hesitance is reduced to none by a hearty chuckle proposing the sweet yet unspoken vision also mentioned in primal madness. ‘Absolutely. Until, one day, I’m hopefully more.’

‘Then let’s wait for that someday with food.’ Lips pout at the distant long-stretched whine of an empty stomach. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Oh no, I can’t have my girlfriend starve. Let’s see what’s cooking. Or, if he messed up, I’ll prepare something for us. Sadly, you’ll have to wait a little longer then.’ Chan moves away a bit to sniff the air for something that human senses cannot pick up. ‘Although, I think we’re safe. Han’s making pancakes and scrambled eggs. Even he can do that.’

The door closes after a final swift kiss, feet ascending the creaking stairs to the kitchen whence the vague sounds of calm conversation between two friends resonate. Lashes gradually unwillingly begin to flutter shut again, lulled into sleep thanks to the exhaustion of something wonderful and the warmth of the bed. Notwithstanding, a familiar chuckle goes accompanied by a renewed entrance and the tinkle of dishware in a breakfast air. ‘At least eat a few strawberries before you doze off entirely.’ The mattress dips under the additional weight as the serving tray indeed containing pancakes and scrambled eggs is put on a tucked-in lap.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ A palm taps invitingly on the empty side of the bed. ‘Get in.’

More obviously giddy than was likely meant to be made known, Chan gets up to walk over to the other side, a slight jump in the steps towards it. The blankets shift as a warm sturdy arm leans against one free of bandages, both helping to tuck in a new couple. ‘I could do this every day. Have breakfast, lie in bed together, working on music or watching dramas.’

‘I’d like that. Can we do the latter now? My laptop’s on the desk.’

‘You just got me to lie down and I’m comfy.’ By means of protest, the buff wolf lies down even more, nudging the arm to raise in order to replace the pillow with the chest to rest on as arms wrap around the waist just above the rough throbbing patches of broken skin. 

‘Please~?’ Despite holding the young man close, playing with pine and soil locks, the plead to send him walking one more time remains eminent. 

‘Only because you’re so gorgeous and I love you.’ The compliment is given strength by a nuzzle, the vibrations of low purring tickling the sensitive skin of the throat. 

‘Bootlicker.’

‘You know you love it.’

A roll of the eyes words the surrender vocabulary cannot or, rather, refuses to voice. ‘Shut up, you giant cheeseball, and get the laptop.’

Feigning discontent, Chan nevertheless gets up to grab the laptop from the desk and starts it up once fully snuggled into the blankets again, head resting where it had before while looking up a drama to start together. However, eating requires sitting upright in order not to spill any syrup and egg on the sheets.

Although, appetite fades fast as half-full dishware is put back on the plate and the ashy wolf turns onto his side, nose buried in the side of the neck as the leg of the girl worried at the little which has been eaten is caught between muscled thighs. Strong arms hold a frozen body close, muscles melting with every hot breath.

Because, apparently, holding back earlier results in transforming into a curious means to relieve frustration by friction. 

‘Uhm, Chan? Do we, I- I mean, d- do you need to...’ The sensation of hardening skin pressing against bared flesh distracts too much to be able to form coherent sentences. Henceforth, the plot of the series passes by unnoticed. 

Especially at the growling that rekindles the sensual warm wetness and cravings. Notwithstanding, there is an odd fierce denial that wants the digits which have slipped beneath the covers to pull up the fabric of the hoodie once more to stop. ‘Ignore it.’

‘But-’

‘I said. Ignore. It.’ The alluring snarling gains a threatening violent undertone that makes shoulders shiver as a flinch to the edge of the bed cannot be helped, nerves on edge with the urge to flee. Withal, the firm embrace tightens and the brush of stuttering lips searching for an apology gain a breathless higher tone as they speak. ‘I- I didn’t mean to sound like that. Babygirl, I- I’m not in control of myself and I’m so sorry for that just now. Please, don’t be ma-’

‘It’s alright, I know you don’t.’ A rapidly beating heart smoothes back brown messy locks and presses a sweet kiss on them before placing one on the forehead, aware of the truth behind the apology. To lighten the atmosphere to an amiable mood again, a fork is picked up with the unoccupied hand to clumsily gather some scrambled egg from the abandoned plate. ‘But I’ll punish you regardless by stealing your food.’

‘Such a shame.’ Although the sigh is sensual in nature, it is mostly humoured. Like the giggle that turns severe. ‘But, please, really ignore me for a bit.’

‘Do I need to pause the drama?’ Not that it would help either of us understand the storyline more. 

‘I- Fuck. To be honest, I, hah, haven’t been, ah, paying attention.’ The dry advances intensify in strength, the mind slowly descending into primality again. 

‘Me neither.’ The device is shut down and put on the floor like the serving tray containing the remainder of the shared breakfast. It takes a wee bit of effort and the risk of broken porcelain alongside open wounds, but the reward will be worth it. ‘This isn’t working. C’mon. One more time.’

‘Are you sure?’ Doubt creeps into delirious attitude, hips continuing to snap despite trying to sound rational.

But seems to be nullified as the question is cheekily repeated, certain about the decision to pursue renewed sensual wanting. ‘Are you sure?’

‘You’re asking this of a wolf in season. It’s almost embarrassing to say yes. More than that, even.’ A nudge is followed by a suggestive peck on the rough edges of the latest bite. ‘Take those boxers off, babygirl.’

Heeding they whispered command, limbs find one another again for a second round as underwear and jeans are discarded for the remainder of the day. Sighs and loud chants of the young man’s name sound in the room without a care for the brother downstairs, only silencing completely after fully unravelling thrice and dozing off in strong veined though harmless human arms.

Though the picture cheekily taken by Han and often looked at on the nights of the full moon tells of the opposite. It is Chan being the one to rest peacefully in the arms of the girl and sister belonging to a wolf instead of the other way around. Nonetheless, whatever the truth of the story is, it always ends the same.

Together.

One day at a time.