#it is my first cold since quarantine and i am having thoughts instead of sleep

[delcat177]

A character is what happens when a piece of you breaks off with its mouth still attached.

#writing #Doing the Thing #opinion piece #shit involving me #it is my first cold since quarantine and i am having thoughts instead of sleep #braxis the slowpoke

[mjae]

The theme of the year is "Restoration"

I had trouble sleeping last night. My brain was buzzing even well past midnight. Recently, I noticed that I get sleepy earlier in the evening. It didn't happen last night. I have no idea why it happened, but it was probably because of the things that were churning in my head.

Or just the energy drink I had to stay awake for New Year's!

I know it's been a few days, but still...

Well, whatever it was, I did eventually just fall asleep. I don't know what time it was, but it was probably from sheer exhaustion.

All that said, I really just wanted to get started on writing again...

So, here we are.

It's 2023!

Welcome to another start in my periodic quest to write every day!

Like I said in the title, the theme of the year is restoration.

The pandemic did all sorts of different things for all sorts of different people.

Taylor Swift was really productive and produced two albums in one year during this time. Made all of us look plenty lazy. Me, included.

Instead of being more productive, I got less productive. The pandemic restricted a lot of activity, most of them things that we took for granted and expected to simply be able to do every day without question or thought.

Now that I think about it, I couldn't adjust very well. It didn't help that I started a new job in 2021: a part-time instructor at a local uni.

That was when I got way less productive.

Well, technically, I was productive in the area of being an instructor, but not in the things I usually do.

Last year, 2022, the pandemic started waning for real. There's still cases today, of course, but it's not something we are not too alarmed about anymore. It's probably gonna stick with us forever now. Like regular coughs and colds. It's now another one of those diseases that we could possibly get just anytime.

So, hopefully, 2023 will be a good year for me to start try and get back to those old things.

This is where the restoration part comes in.

The first step was to find and use a tracking app. I found a habit tracker called Timecap. Seems decent, so I'm using that.

Here are a couple of things I am simply tracking:

Play I'm tracking this because, even without the recaps from my various apps and platforms, I know I played way less than I used to. Probably comes with the territory of having more work, but I want to change that.

Read Unfortunately, I also read way less last year. Goodreads says I only read 12 books last year. That's barely an average of one book a month. Definitely not a good look, especially with a record of 26 in 2021 and 43 in 2020. Yes, it's been a downhill ride. I hope to change that this year and finish well over 12 this time.

I'm tracking them so I can see how much time I'm spending on them. Or, how little.

A couple of things I am building:

Exercise Before the pandemic, I was cycling practically every day. The lockdowns and the quarantines did not do me a favor when it came to exercise. I ended up doing this way less until I couldn't anymore. I did have a period with the boxing app on my Switch, but I couldn't stick with it either. I want to try again. Although... I did not have a good start with this one today. I woke up to something terrible, so I couldn't get started. Probably just an excuse, but we'll see.

Learn Japanese Another one of those things that got disrupted. I had a really nice streak and it was going so well, until a period of disruption upset my progress. I've had to reset maybe twice now. I'm wondering now whether I should reset again, but that's another thing we'll see.

Write This one I seem to be having a good start on. I don't know how long it will last this time, but I hope longer. There's a routine change coming at the start of next week, though, so that's something that does not bode well for this. Still, gotta start somehow, right?

An aside... Like I always do when I want to start writing again, I got hung up for a good time on where to write. It's a good thing I already had something in mind: since we're talking about restoration I thought to use one of my old blogs. I had something in mind, but I was misremembering it. It didn't look like I thought it did. So, I spent some time looking at these old spaces. This old Tumblr blog is it this time. The last post is actually from January 2nd, 2022. It's not even an actual post, just a share from Instagram. The last real post is from August 23rd, 2019 - one of my sort of rants about Descendants 3. So, it's been over three years...

In another note, I also wanted to change the theme. I almost got stuck on that again, but I realized what I was doing, so I got to stop myself and just picked the top result: Tumblr Official.

No qualms, no thinking too hard. Any space will do, so just get on with it!

Now, I don't have a good record with these habit tracking things. I get tired of them after a while. The longest I've gone is probably just a couple of weeks. Hope it will be different this time.

Here's to 2023 🎉

#2023 #theme #habits

[a-singleboat]

His Shirt

Word Count: 1533

A/N: I literally have no excuse, but I’m back!

Request: Can I request something where the reader and Shayne have been seeing each other for a little while and she unknowingly wears one of his shirts to work and the whole day goes by like normal but towards the end of it, someone like Noah or something ends up questioning it like “how has no one noticed this, or mentioned it all freaking day?!” And Shayne gets shy about it but the reader just laughs it off and it’s all cute and fluffy af💕💕- Anon

Over quarantine, you’d seen very little of any of your friends and coworkers. Working from home was tough, especially since you and your partner had just made the decision to move in with each other a week before the entire country had been submerged into a lockdown that stretched over a few months. The days blended together and eventually dragged on, which made you excited to return to work if anything. 

The morning of your official return, you woke up extremely early, not having been able to sleep the night before due to pure excitement. You wanted to get back to filming, to doing all the things you did before going into quarantine, you missed the hustle and bustle of set life. 

You were dressed before Shayne was, throwing on a button up from your shared closet as well as a pair of dark-wash jeans that only felt a little tight at the waist. You weren’t concerned, seeing as you were never really on the skinny side of fitness, you figured it was just early morning bloating that would go away as the day went on.

“Are you driving or am I?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of the feet as you waited for Shayne to pull on a thin jacket. It wasn’t fully winter yet but it also wasn’t cold enough to constitute a full coat. You had a thinner track jacket on as well, the zipper zipped only part of the way up in your hurry. 

Shayne paused by you to pull up the zipper the rest of the way before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Calm down,” he advised, pulling his mask on over the bottom half of his face. “We still have to grab breakfast before heading to the offices, Courtney asked if we could stop by that bagel place by us she likes.”

“Is it even open?” you asked, patting down your pockets to make sure you had everything. Once you were sure you had your phone, keys, and wallet, you then realized that you had completely forgotten your purse inside. You whirled around to head back inside when Shayne handed you the black bag, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“They’re open for pickups only,” he told you, pulling your keys from your pocket, “and I’ll drive, I don’t feel like getting pulled over by the cops today.”

“I’m not that bad at driving,” you tried to defend yourself, hurrying after him as he walked off to the parking lot. “I just take the speed limit signs as suggestions but that doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.”

He didn’t respond, instead holding the passenger seat door open for you. His action was answer enough. You slid into the passenger seat and buckled in as he shut the door tight, running around to the other side and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“What are we going to tell them when you roll up driving my car, huh?” you questioned. “Our friends know we moved into the same apartment because it was cheaper as roommates, not because we started dating. If you roll up driving my car they’ll have questions.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tried to parlay your worries. “Besides, if you’re that concerned about it I can just say you had a headache or didn’t feel like driving after we got to the bagel shop. Not the end of the world.”

You sank back into your seat, coming to terms with the fact that Shayne was not going to let you drive. He pulled out of the parking lot as One Direction played softly in the background, the aux cord trailing from its socket to the connector on your phone as you dictated what you listened to on the way to the bagel shop. 

Shayne got out of the car when you got there, heading in to pick up the order you had called ahead for on the way there. He was back before Temporary Fix ended, handing the bagels over to you as you switched over to Alec Benjamin for the rest of the ride in. 

You ate your bagel on the way in, putting the vegetable spread evenly over the toasted bread and eating it as Water Fountain played. You held out a bit of your bagel, silently asking if Shayne wanted any. He took the bite, smiling when he realized you accidentally got cream cheese on his cheek. You reached out with a napkin and wiped it off before finishing the rest of your bagel. 

You arrived at the offices shortly after, unplugging your phone from the aux and exiting the vehicle. Luckily, no one was outside to see the two of you enter the building. You would say you were walking a little too closely for it to be considered friendly, especially during a pandemic, but everyone knew that the two of you were close friends anyways. Walking close together wouldn’t give anything away. 

“What do you have to film today?” you made small talk in the elevator, getting to your working mindset. You knew what you had to do, film a gaming video with Ian, Noah, and Courtney, as well as take a look and collaborate with the writers on a new skit idea for when production went back to being fully up and running. It would be a short day for you, which wasn’t ideal but at least you got some camera time.

Shayne looked up from his phone. “I’ve got the meeting with the crew and then some gaming videos, I think. We’re also planning for the Christmas video soon, so I’ll probably be with Wardrobe for most of the day.”

You hummed as the elevator doors opened, Shayne tucking his phone away and then sending you a wink. You felt your face burn hot as you scrunched up your nose. You reached up to fix your mask as you waited for the elevator to go up to the main office floor, heading straight for your desk where a pack of Lysol wipes and a temperature gun were waiting. 

Proactive, you thought, using the wipes to clean off the surface of your desk before finally setting your things down. You took your jacket off, draping over the back of your chair before sitting. You had about thirty minutes before your call time so you checked your email and went over a few of the new safety regulations that were put in place for filming.

The most notable were the fifteen-minute COVID tests you would have to take before and after each section of filming, meaning you couldn’t enter or exit the filming area without a negative test. Honestly, that was a good thing if any. At least the company cared in that way. 

Filming took up the rest of your day and when you finally finished with your writer’s meeting, it was six pm. Not as early as a day as you would have hoped but you’ve definitely stayed in the studio for longer so you weren’t going to complain. 

You were sitting at your desk as you waited for Shayne to finish up his meeting, casually chatting with Noah to pass the time. You were sharing one of your quarantine stories when Shayne walked in, heading straight for your desk with his things already collected. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, adjusting her jacket. “Also, what do you want for dinner tonight because I was thinking we could have lasagna but if we want lasagna we have to stop by the market on the way.”

You laughed, pulling your jacket on. “I could go for lasagna.”

Noah looked between the two of you, slowly connecting the dots. He pointed at you, a grin on his face as realization crossed his features. “That’s Shayne’s shirt.”

You looked down, realizing that, yeah, you were wearing Shayne’s shirt. You looked over at Shayne who’s cheeks were as red as a tomato. He started stammering, offering reasons as to why you were wearing his shirt. 

You just shrugged, quickly thinking for a way out. “The laundry must have gotten mixed up. Not the first time I’d accidentally worn his shirts.” 

 Noah gave you a look that read that he didn’t quite believe you. But he let it go, taking note of Shayne’s red cheeks and your flustered looks. He smirked, patting your shoulder as he got up. 

“I’ll believe you for now,” he said, leaving the two of you to stew in your minor embarrassment. 

“How long until everyone knows?” you asked Shayne who looked only mildly mortified that Noah was the first to find out. “We weren’t even keeping it a secret either… I’m proud of us anyhow.”

“I guess that means we don’t have to worry about who sees us now,” he said, looking on the bright side. “And yeah, keeping it a secret any longer would have been kinda dumb, wouldn’t it have been.”

You headed to the elevators, linking your arm through Shayne’s. 

“Not excited for the fans to find out, though.”

Shayne looked at you and then looked back at the opening elevator doors. “We don’t have to tell them. It can be Smosh’s little secret.”

TAGLIST

@beautiful-holland​ @toms-order​ @starlightfound​  @positiveparker​ @bippity-boppity-boopa​ @caswinchester2000​ @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch​ @paige0103​ @theofficialzivadavid​

#shayne topp #shayne topp x reader #shayne #topp #reader #shayne topp imagine #shayne topp fluff #fluff #his shirt #Noah Grossman #Courtney Miller #ian hecox #one direction #alec benjamin #smosh #smosh games

[taeyohonic]

favoritism (m)

summary: you’re quarantining with your favorite person during a global pandemic (established relationship, idol au) pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) warnings: the pandemic is discussed, smut (vaginal intercourse, heavy kissing), swearing, the tv show f.r.i.e.n.d.s is discussed (i imagine that can be a trigger for some…) info: this is a follow-up to this drabble! i needed some established fluff… words: 2.2k

“since when does rachel like ross back?”, your boyfriend asks as he shoves a piece of pancake into your open mouth. your eyes widen while you chew – your comeback right on your tongue.

“what do you mean since when? these two have been canon since episode one season one.”

yoongi snorts and bites into a strawberry. “no way – rachel is way too good for a guy like ross.”

you snort right back in his adorable face and pinch his stuffed cheek. “yoongs, every girl is too good for the guy she ends up with”, you respond and steal fruit from his plate.

the both of you are cuddling on the couch while the f.r.i.e.n.d.s theme song is playing in the background. yoongi has you lying on top of him and uses your belly as a makeshift table to hold his breakfast plate. you don’t mind – as long as he shares his bowl of fruit with you.

some people would mock you for binging a 90’s sitcom in pajamas while munching on pancakes in the middle of the night. but you don’t care anymore – your sleep schedule is fucked. no need to sugarcoat it.

yoongi plays with your hair and you hum as he presses softly against your skull.

“are you too good for me, then?”, he whines and brushes his fingers now across your collarbone. again, you huff and push back against his body.

“who is the one who got us quarantined?”

monica’s rant at a confused and slightly apprehensive chandler is overshadowed by your quarrel.

“it happens, _____”, he says with a serious undertone. “you should know best.”

he is right. the pandemic is widely spread; of course, it’s not going to just… turn around at the bighit building. you still were surprised when sejin called your boyfriend two days ago, frantically talking to your confused idol.

a background dancer was tested positive hours ago – and now all of bangtan had to quarantine for fourteen days. while most of the members were safe at their luxurious dorm yoongi was stuck at your two-bedroom apartment. not that he is complaining… much.

“so, is monica too good for chandler then?”, your boyfriend asks to change the subject. you shake your head at him and feel his bleached hair grazing your neck.

“duh”, you start, “he fat-shamed her so badly in their college days.”

“but… chandler is your favorite character, _______.” you’re munching on the final piece of pancake as you answer him – your mouth still full of carbs.

“yeah, so what? just because he’s my favorite doesn’t mean i think he’s an honest and lawfully good person.” you point with your greased finger at the tv. “you see me defending moriarty? or loki?” yoongi takes the empty plate off of you and places it carefully on the couch table. it now rests on top of two unread architecture magazines and a few unread binders from yoongi’s upcoming collaboration. the soon-to-be graded tests mock you right next to an empty bottle of wine.

“am i your favorite?”, he asks in a sing-song voice so unlike yoongi’s cool persona, you can’t help but search for his mischief eyes. he looks so relaxed – it’s a joy to witness.

“in a world where park jimin exists?”

yoongi’s finger find your ribs and start to tickle you in an instant. your body twitches helplessly in his arms as you feel the air rushing out of your lungs. there is breathless laughter echoing around the living room, and you are too preoccupied to locate the source.

“he-elp”, you whine and feel his arms tighten around your waist. still, his fingers dance across your stomach and you try to escape his touch. “yoonggs-s pleassse.”

“say i’m your favorite and it’s all over”, he taunts you mockingly.

“oka-ay, ok.” you give up in milliseconds. your bladder is too full to handle his tickling any longer. you don’t want to pee on your boyfriend – your relationship isn’t that strong yet.

yoongi ceases his attack at your surrender. “say it, ______.”

sucking in much needed air, you turn around to straddle him. his slim body gives you enough room on the couch to shift into a comfortable position.

“you”, a kiss is placed against his right cheek, “are”, another one is mirrored on his left cheek, “my”, the third is planted on his small nose, “favorite.” before your can kiss your final destination – his forehead – yoongi’s mouth captures your wandering lips. you feel him smile into the kiss as warm flutters travel across your body.

without a second thought you move against him and open your mouth. yoongi moans as your tongue caresses his own softly. he presses himself closer to you, hindering you to rut against his solid erection. instead yoongi topples you over by forcing most of his weight against your heated body. “ahh”, you breathe in surprise at the changed position. now it’s him on top of you. your boyfriend looks down with darkened lust – surely mirrored by your own expression.

“yoongs”, you whine and squirm against his weight.

“yes, baby?”, he purrs while his swollen lips descend upon your neck. the heat rises in your cheeks and you know you only have moments before you are too far gone to think straight.

“yoongs, i gotta pee.”

“huh?”, he breathes against your jaw, his mind clouded by your smell.

“let me pee”, you cry and push against his chest. your boyfriend soon shakes with silent laughter as he eases off of you.

“really, ____?”, yoongi asks while watching you rush to the bathroom. you fidget from tile to tile as the cold marble bites your feet. adorable.

“get the condoms and move it to the bedroom, min! i don’t want to clean the sofa – again”, you yell before closing the bathroom door. adorable and bossy, he thinks and turns off the tv.

it takes you not more than two minutes to flush the toilet and rush into the bedroom. moonlight shines through the big windows, illuminating your boyfriend in the middle of your bed. his upper body leans against the headboard while his right hand is stroking his cock at a leisured pace. yoongi smirks as he notices your eyes on his erection.

“you look… really beautiful”, you say and feel your cheeks darken at the uttered compliment. it always surprises your boyfriend how shy you can get in moments like this. you’ve seen him countless of times – his cock is very familiar with the tightness between your legs. still, right now you look at him as if he’s untouchable.

“you’re the beauty between the two of us, _____”, he answers mid-stroke smirking at your barely dressed state. his t-shirt suits you.

“come here, baby”, he commands softly when you don’t make a move to close the distance. “i’m too tired to fuck you against the wall”, he adds jokingly.

you can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend and join him on the bed while shaking your head at his crude words. up close he looks not as intimidating as before. the lighting bathes him in an unreal gleam. you can see the veins decorating his thick shaft. delicious.

yoongi’s cock isn’t the biggest you’ve ever had – but it’s the thickest by far. your pussy clenches at just the memory of him inside you as you can’t suppress the needy moan escaping you.

his hand moves from his erection to your neck, pulling you closer to him. yoongi already abandoned his hoodie – the cream-colored skin as inviting as his smirk. you fumble with the t-shirt separating you from his touch.

yoongi notices your impatience and helps you out of your clothes in seconds. he comes face-to-face with your bralette and groans in annoyance.

“why are you still wearing a bra during quarantine?”, he whines and pushes the flimsy material away from your nipples. you coo in thanks as his lips close around one of your breasts, sucking at the flesh vigorously.

“we… ah”, you babble, “the zoom meeting with … with joon today – i di-didn’t want aaa-nother nipple-gate.” you have to take a deep breath when your boyfriend switches sides. his hands move on the now neglected nipple by twisting the erected flesh. “ah, fuck, yoongs”, you moan as you feel yourself getting wetter.

“god, baby, your breasts are really, really pretty”, yoongi praises against your skin.

“you know what else is really pretty?”, he asks, not sure you are still capable to answer him. he smirks at your flush body on top of him. you can only shake your head as your fingers find their way into his hair.

since you met him his head has always been a nightmare. the hair frayed from layers upon layers of bleach, toner and coloring. still, his strands between your fingertips are thick and you grip them tightly before pushing him against the headboard and away from your tortured nipples.

yoongi groans at your actions, the dull arch soon forgotten as you answer him.

“really pretty? your cock in my mouth.” you rain kisses down his jawline while mumbling the second part of your reply. “really, really pretty? your dick in my pussy.”

“damn, baby”, yoongi growls before grabbing your waist to position you above his erection. you feel your walls flutter as he presses his tip at your entrance. your boyfriend sees the need in your hazed eyes, but he has to check how wet you are first. with only one arm holding you up, the other hand wanders to your core. as soon as his fingers touch your engrossed clit, you bite the flesh beneath his jawline in heat.

“yoongs”, you plead while flickering your tongue against his throat. your boyfriend hushes you, endeared by your responds.

“i’ve got you, baby”, he promises darkly before pushing you down on his cock. there is the briefest moment of discomfort, but soon the pulsing between your tights sends flames through your body. you can’t help it as you press closer against his pelvis, sinking deeper onto his erection.

“fuck”, he groans. your wetness hugs him so tight – too tight. “you gotta relax, baby”, he soothes you. his hands move from your hips to softly caressing your back. “don’t make my dick fall off.”

you snort nuzzled against his neck as you will yourself to relax. “just like that”, yoongi praises as he feels your walls soften around him. his words encourage you to start rocking against him. there is no rush behind your movement, just yoongi’s cock sliding in and out of you slowly.

his hands dig into your shoulder blades as you feel him hitting the spongy spot deep in your hole. “right there, yoongi”, you cry and your boyfriend snaps is hips instantly into you. “more, please”, you beg, lost at his tip massaging your g-spot.

your scenes cloud in heat as you feel his pelvis bone rubbing against your clit. helplessly, you bite his neck. “fuck, baby”, yoongi grunts in surprised pain and presses you closer to him. your wet nipples touch his chest and you can witness his swallowed breathing.

his skin tastes salty and you brush your tongue against his jugular vein to collect more of his sweat.

yoongi speeds up the pace as he feels your walls squeezing him tightly. fueled by desire he pushes you down hard on his cock. “harder”, you beg. there is fire spreading faster and faster in your core. you feel yourself vibrating against him every time his pelvis brushes against your sensitive clit.

“your wish is my command”, your boyfriend vows between clenched teeth as his climax approaches. he quickens your movement and you help him, riding his cock in desperate need of release.

“i’m close.” yoongi can’t help but smile at your whiny tone and rushes his hand between the two of you. when his fingertips brush against his cock meeting your slit, he nearly looses it. hazed he finds your enlarged clit and rolls it between his fingers. you tense instantly as your orgasm rips through you.

there is no warning, only shockwaves of fire traveling across your body. “damn it, baby”, yoongi hisses. your walls clench around him with vigor. his own release is not far behind – you milking his cock being the final straw.

with a deep groan he empties himself in you. white stripes paint your hole from within. the bedroom is silent while the both of you try to regain some sense.

“you know you are good enough for me, don’t you?”, you whisper against the brand-new hickey on his neck. yoongi needs a moment before he gets the connection to your conversation from before.

it’s really maddening how the two of you are this self-conscious in your relationship while at the same time so quick to reassure one another.

“as long as i don’t call you the wrong name at our wedding, right?”, he chuckles lightheartedly.

“slow down, yoongs. nobody said anything about marriage”, you breathe tiered from your activities.

yeah, nobody said anything, but the ring in his drawer is screaming louder than ever.

“go pee, baby”, your boyfriend orders softly. he’ll ask for your hand in marriage tomorrow when his own isn’t full of pancake grease.

____

yeah, i’m a very new smut writer, so i try to practice! hope you found this as fluffy as i did! i’d love to read some feedback! love and well wishes from, dana

#btswriterscollective #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts established relationship #yoongi idol au #bts idol au #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi

[outerbankspreferences]

Is It Just Me? - Chase Stokes

Is It Just Me – Chase Stokes

 Word Count: 2893

 MASTERLIST

It's been way too long for me to find it this hard Sitting alone, my fingers picking the sofa apart An attempt to distract from the fact that I miss you I wonder if your friends have had to carry you home And stay for the night because they don't want to leave you alone Way before it was fun, it's becoming an issue

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 It had been exactly 3 months and 13 days since you and Chase had broken up. You wished it would have been a shock to you, but you had seen this coming. Things with Chase were great in the beginning. He was caring and sweet towards you. You could remember a time someone had cared for you as he had. You always supported Chase with everything he wanted to do with his life. You met him when he had just started out acting, and you were proud to watch his career blossom to the extent it had.

 But had someone told you 6 months ago that you guys wouldn’t be together anymore you would have denied the accusations. 6 months ago, you thought Chase was in love with you.

 Chase had been going back and forth to North Carolina for auditions and eventually got the leading role in the television series. You spent the first month with him and his new cast mate Rudy, having the time of your lives with the other people on the show. The whole cast would go out to different clubs every weekend enjoying spending time together.

 Just a little over 6 months later you were still going to clubs but this time on separate sides of the country. You couldn’t process what had happened in a healthy manner and instead turned to going out with your friends every weekend to keep your mind off things. It always ended the same, one of your friends dragging you up the stairs of your once shared apartment because you were too drunk to do it yourself. They had grown accustomed to the weekend ritual of getting you sleep wear and a bucket for the morning.

 Then you would wake in the morning, puking the nights content in the bucket popping Advil for the headache and dragging yourself to couch, throwing on some stupid movie that you wouldn’t be able to watch anyways. Instead, you would pick at the loose strings of the sofa thinking of all the times you spent in the apartment with Chase.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 As you sit picking away at the sofa, you mind wanders to Chase. You still follow everyone on Instagram, and you were still good friends with Rudy, so you could see everyone’s stories. Rudy had been the only one to keep in touch with you, which surprised you because he and Chase seemed to be such good friends.

 You wondered if Rudy ever asked about you to Chase, and then you wondered what Chase’s reaction would be. Would his heart be in his stomach at every mention of your name, or would he simply shrug like you guys had never been more then distant friends?

 You sat wondering if Chase ever thought back to the day at the airport. The way he let you walk through security with no more then just a side a hug you would give a sibling. Wishing you a good flight and see you later before leaving. He hadn’t even waited for you to board the plane.

 There were so many things you had wanted to say to him. You want to tell him you loved him, that you would fight for him. More so you wanted him to fight for you, for the years you had spent together. To fight for the promises he made to you, the ones you made together and the ones to come. You wanted to apologize for not being enough, but you couldn’t find the right words, so you watched him walk out of your life.

 I heard a rumor you've been spending some time With that blonde girl that you work with and I know she's exactly your type And my miserable mind's running wild with the picture Or are you there by yourself, dialing, redialing my number? And I'm calling your mother, spilling tears on my jumper again The way I am

I know it's cruel But I kind of hope you're tortured too

 1 month later, Chase’s mother, Jennifer, had called you because she had seen the announcement on Instagram. The two of you had been close while dating Chase considering how close he was with her. Your mother lived down south, and you didn’t get to see her that often, so Jennifer was a close second.

 You had heard rumors from Drew and Rudy about Chase and Maddie hanging out together more, and it didn’t come as a shock to you. In the last bit of your relationship, you played second fiddle to her on multiple occasions. “It’s probably nothing, it because they have scenes together.” Rudy would make excuses over facetime when he watched your face drop at the mention of her name. “Yeah, you’re probably right, nothing to get worked up over.” You responded in a less then convincing tone, “she seemed super cool the couple of times I met her.” “Yeah she is. I think under different circumstances the two of you could have been friends.” He encouraged.

 When the nights started to get cold in LA again you found yourself struggling to sleep. It was at these times you would reread old text messages and look through old pictures of the two you. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but you weren’t ready to move on. Chase had extra time to mourn the lose of the relationship while you were still grieving. It was on these cold nights alone in the apartment you shared that you began to wonder if he was thinking about you. Was he sitting next to her thinking about you? Was he wondering whether he should call you or just delete your number?

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 It was early in the morning in North Carolina and Chase was sitting on the patio of his shared apartment with Rudy. The sun was just starting to rise in the distance as he found himself restless yet again. He had been awake for about an hour just laying in his bed when he finally decided to get up. He was careful not to wake the sleeping girl next to him. She felt different next to him compared to you. When the two of you slept together you always liked to be the big spoon. Chase let you, finding comfort being wrapped up in bed next to you. Maddie was different, she preferred to lay her head on his chest, letting the sound of his beating heart lull her into sleep.

 Not soon after Rudy came on the patio too, and Chase cursed him for being a night owl. “Not tired?” Rudy asked pulling out the bong they kept under the table. “No, and I didn’t want to wake Mads’” Chase spoke up tossing Rudy the lighter next to him watching the blonde inhale the smoke.

 “I can’t stop thinking about her.” Chase finally spoke up, keeping a hushed tone just in case. “Oh yeah?” “I shouldn't have left her like that. It wasn’t fair to her I just didn’t know what to do.” Chase explained and Rudy didn’t need to be a love doctor to know he was talking about you.

 “It’s been 2 weeks, she’s okay.” Rudy explained and Chase gave him a confused look. “When you guys broke up, I stayed in touch with her. She was mine friend too, and I felt bad that we all sort of dropped her when you guys broke up.” Chase nodded his head in understanding but was still jealous that Rudy got to talk to you. “Why did you break up with her? Not that I’m judging, I just thought things were going good between the two of you.”

 It was Chase’s turn to have a hit from the bong while he thought of his answer. “Shit man I don’t know. Things just feel different with Maddie then they did Y/N. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did.” “Are you sure you’re not feeling too much as an actor oppose to being a person. Sometimes having a love interest on show can be different and confusing.” The blonde tried explaining to him but even he saw the demise of the relationship before Chase start acting with Madelyn. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Chase asked looking at Rudy and he could tell by the look in his eyes that it was doubtful. “You hurt her man. I think maybe one day, but not right now. I think right now she’s just trying to figure out how to do this without you.” Rudy could see the few tears in Chase’s eyes, and he knew that this wasn’t easy on him ether.

 Chase got up but before leaving he spoke one more time. “If you talk to her again, just tell her that I never meant to hurt her the way I did.” Chase still wasn’t sleepy but the effects of the marijuana did aid in his problem, so he finished off with a shower. He turned the water to steaming hot and then got in. He let the water soak his hair while he wondered what you were doing right now. It only took a few more minutes for the tears to start. Chase stayed another hour in the shower wondering if he made the right decision.

 'Cause this would be one whole lot easier God, I know that's selfish but it's true If underneath some calm exterior You're all fucked up too

 The first few months of quarantine had been rough on you working from home. You also felt alone all the time but seeing Chase’s Instagram post sent you spiraling down another unhealthy path. You had just started to get better. You weren’t drinking as much, and you had let your friends set you up on a group date. You knew you weren’t ready for another relationship just yet, but you also couldn’t hide in your apartment for the rest of your life.

 You had also been talking to Rudy a lot more. He had been your biggest support through all of this. He had flown back to LA a couple weeks ago to help you move to a new apartment. You figured if you were going to move on you had to move from the place you spent the most time with Chase. It was bittersweet because not only did you have good memories at the home with Chase, but those memories extended to your other friends as well. Rudy had ensured you that you would make knew memories in your new place.

 But when you woke up on June 14, 2020 you almost had a heart attack. It had been 3 months and 13 days to the day, and he had already moved on. Now you were stuck trying to grabble with the emotions you were feeling. In some messed up way at first you didn’t want him to be happy. You wanted him to hurt the way you did, but you knew it wasn’t right. There was a small part of you that was happy that he was now happy.

 Then you were reminded that you owed Chase his half of the damage deposit. Rudy had told you they all moved back to LA and were waiting for season one to come out. You debated on just giving the money to Rudy for him to pass along, but you also wanted to face Chase, to show him that you were now okay even it was a lie.

 You took the latter of the chooses and sent him a text. (Y/N) It’s Y/N, I have your half of the damage deposit from the apartment. I can drop it off or you can pick it up if you want. You stared at the text message for fifteen minutes before sending it. It only took five for him to answer and you dashed to look at the phone. (C) Oh shit I forgot about that. I mean if you want to keep it, that’s fine. You scowled at the text. You didn’t need or want his pity money. (Y/N) I’m fine without it, if your busy I can send it with Rudy the next time he’s here. (C) Okay, no that’s fine I can come by today and get it just air drop me your address. You did just that deciding against messaging him back.

 Chase’s heart fluttered a little when he saw your name come up on his phone. He hadn’t heard from you in months, and he assumed it was going to be about the post on his Instagram. He made the decision that Maddie made him the happy he wanted to be and left you. He had just gotten back in town when you told him about the deposit, and he didn’t mind letting you keep the money. It was the least he could do after everything he put your though. His heart sank when you declined his offer but lite back up when you offered for him to come over.

 Tell me, does your heart stop at the party when my name drops? Like you're stood at the platform when the trains cross Are you hurting, yeah you must be Or is it just me? Tongue-tied, screaming on the inside When I say that we broke up and they ask why Are you crying in the shower like a freak? With only cigarettes for company? Are you crying in the shower like a freak? Or is it just me?

 He honestly thought of this as his chance to apologize for everything that happened. You didn’t deserve for him to treat you like that, and he owed you an explanation. He drove over to your house, white knuckled the whole way. You lived in a small, gated apartment building and he remembered Rudy telling Maddie B. about it. He remembered Rudy saying how excited you were for a new place, and he wasn’t sure if Rudy was just saying that to upset him. Every time Rudy mentioned something about you it always made his heart sink underground and he was reminded about the way he treated you.

 Chase started to walk up the stairs to your apartment once you buzzed him in but to his surprise you were waiting outside on the step. You looked tired and had lost weight which worried him because you were small to begin with. “Hey.” He spoke not really knowing what else to say. “Hi.” You said and he could hear how sore your voice sounded almost like you had been crying. You were smoking, which was something new, but he figured this was just as stressful for you as it was him You handed him an envelope with his name on it. “Uh, I cleaned the whole apartment, and nothing was broken so we could all the money back. Your half is in there, so I just need your key to give to the landlord.” You explained looking at Chase. He pulled his keys from his pocket fumbling with the ring.

 “Y’know, I never meant”- “Please don’t” “Please don’t want?” Chase looked at you confused. He thought you wanted an apology. “I can’t listen to it Chase. I know it’s mean, but I’m not ready to hear you apologize. I’m just starting to get better, and I don’t need you to set me back again.” You explained looking him the eyes. He flinched when you said again. He handed the key back to you. “Thanks, I hope everything works out. I’ll make sure to watch the show.” You smiled at him and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you smile. He returned the smile before turning on his heels to leave. “For the record Y/N, you weren’t the only one to get hurt in this.” And it was your turn to flinch at his words. “I guess grief looks better on some people.” And with that you escaped back into your apartment sliding down the door letting out a silent cry. What you didn’t know was that Chase was going back to his car to the same thing.

TAGLIST:

@drewstarkeysbitchh @taylathornton @jjmaybankzz @lemur46

#chase stokes #chase stokes x reader #chase stokes outerbanks #chase stokes x y/n #chase stokes x you #chase stokes imagine #chase stokes imagines #chase stokes angst #chase stokes heartbreak #chase stokes fluff #outerbanks

[jimlingss]

Hi! I hope you are doing well ☺️ I have a request!

With Jimin, mainly fluff, a tiny angst and a smudge of smut if you are comfortable, I was thinking in frenemies2l au 😅 you know like they are friends but there is tension, but the good kind and feelings and witty banter and maybe some misunderstanding

“Can I at least tell my side of the story?” 

“I can’t keep playing pretend.”

“I’d do anything for you.” 

“You should probably go home.” “But I’m already home.”

Love your writing btw!! ❣️

Anonymous said: jimin x fluff/crack humour x “Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no? (optional!) x someone contracts Black Cat Flu: a disease that causes chronic bad luck and has to be under quarantine. method of cure? up to you!

↳ Black Cat Flu

2.9k || 98% Fluff, 2% Angst || Park Jimin || Magic!AU, Frenemies!AU

Every night, you answer house calls.

It’s a tough job from time to time, especially when patients are difficult or the problem itself is complex. One thing’s for sure — there’s never a shortage of issues. Plenty of witches and wizards like to be irresponsible with magic. But you enjoy the job. It’s worth it when you can leave with a sound heart that your patient is on their way to recovering. It’s worth staying up past dusk and dawn when you know you’ve eased a family and saved them from unnecessary grief.

But what you don’t expect is answering a house call for Park Jimin.

You’re standing in front of his townhouse with a long sigh, gripping your first aid kit in one hand and your wand in the other. In spite of the sharp black gate and the pointed edges of his roof that gives off an eerie feeling, he’s decorated the front windows with goofy, flashing pumpkin stickers and charmed fireflies to twinkle and light up the stair railing. That was Jimin for you.

You knock on the door.

Immediately, you hear thumps that follow, a muffled curse and then the door opens.

On the other side, Jimin is disheveled. His brown hair is sticking in all directions, his navy shorts are covered in soot and short enough to be boxers, and there’s a tear in his black and white long sleeve. You try to not to stare at the skin of his tummy. It’s not too hard to resist when his brown eyes are perfectly rounded and he’s staring into your soul with a distressed expression.

The door knob falls into his hand.

“Y/N! Thank god, it’s you!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

Your brow lifts. “Like usual?”

Jimin hangs his head. “It’s even worse.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What did you do this time?”

You step inside the house and notice the thick smoke billowing out from one of the rooms. Jimin barely manages to shove the door shut behind you. “I was experimenting and something happened and now everything around me keeps breaking.”

His black cat, Seokjin, scurries across the floor of the living room. He turns his head to hiss at you and then disappears down the hall. You look at Jimin. “Is the cat in a onesie?” 

“Uh, no?” 

You don’t prod and pry more than you have to. You’ve been friends with Jimin long enough to know better than to ask what goes on in that brain of his. You’ll never understand him. Nor do you want to.

Instead, you follow after him.

Jimin’s always been clumsy, so it’s no surprise when he trips on the hall rug. But it’s never been this bad — arms flailing, body like jelly, feet slipping. “Woah!” You step back and he manages to grasp onto the door frame for balance before he can eat shit. But it breaks in his hand.

Part of the door frame crumbles off and into his hand. He curses and looks at you. “See what I mean?”

You peek into the room. The cauldron is still steaming. It smells like catnip. 

“What were you trying to make?”

“A sweet potion.”

From your fuzzy knowledge of potions class years ago, you recall it being the weaker counterpart to the infamous love potion. Some might dub it as a liking potion. 

You hum curiously. You thought Jimin had no problems trying to make friends.

Jimin grabs a bottle off his shelf and the moment it’s in his palm, the glass bursts in his hand. He looks at you. You’re expressionless. “Go lay down.”

“If you lay with me,” Jimin says while he tries to shake the glass off. You whirl your wand and every fragment and shard floats in the air before showering down to the ground. 

You give him a lazy glare and lift your first aid kit up. “I’m going to toss this at you.”

The boy grins. “That’s not really my kink, but if it’s you, I might be into it.”

Yet in spite of Jimin’s mouthiness, he still listens to you and makes his way to his room.

On the way, he turns slightly. “Have you been busy tonight?”

“Not reall— Jimin!”

Your shout is too late. He collides with his own decorative flower vase and it shatters around his feet into a million bits. Jimin deflates, shoulders slugging, looking down at what was once his favourite vase that he got from his late grandma. “Shit.”

“Don’t move,” you warn him. But yet again, it’s too late.

As the words are coming out of your mouth and before your wand can whirl again, he’s stepping back. Right onto a mountain of sharp glass fragments. Jimin winces. You groan. He bleeds all over the place.

You barely manage to get him into bed and his feet bandaged.

“Say ah.”

“Ah.”

You look into his mouth with the light from the tip of your wand and a popsicle stick pressed against his tongue. Then you hum and move to shine the light in each of his eyes to look at his pupils.

“I think I need mouth-to-mouth,” Jimin says.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” you mutter.

He grins and you step back, finished with the examination. “Am I dying, doctor?”

“No. It’s much worse,” you deadpan and Jimin looks genuinely taken aback. A second later, you snort with a smile. “I’m kidding.”

Jimin sighs in exasperation. “You shouldn’t play with my heart like that. There’s only so much I can take when you’re already this hot.”

He wiggles his brows and scans your figure up and down, but you’re not so sure what there is to look at when you’re tired, sweaty, and covered from head to toe, dressed in black and just a white doctor’s coat. “You contracted Black Cat Disease. Looks like a bad case too. A bad case of bad luck.” 

You open the first aid kit and spray yourself with disinfect ten times over, making sure to get every inch of your body. Then you’re putting on a mask and gloves. Magic can only do so much — personal protective equipment will do the rest.

“Aw, this means I really can’t kiss you tonight, can I?”

You ignore him. “You have to be under quarantine for the time being.”

“What’s the cure?”

“True love’s kiss.” Silence. The corner of your lip tugs. “Kidding. Rest and sleep. All flus past that way.”

You come over and push Jimin’s shoulder so he’s no longer sitting up and his back hits the mattress, head against the pillows. You tug the blanket up over his body and he pouts.

“This sucks.”

“Sure does. Now rest. I’ll make a tonic for you.” You shift on your feet and get to your kit without a moment’s rest. You want to treat Jimin as quickly as possible.

But before you get out the door, his soft voice stops you—

“Thanks, Y/N. I mean it.”

You peek over your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know I’d do anything for you.” There’s a strangely intimate pause as Jimin gazes at you with a tender smile. It makes you sweat and you hastily add, “Plus, this is my job.”

...

You’ve nursed a lot of people before. But Jimin is not on your list of people you want to offer your expertise to. He’s your friend, yes, but lately, you’ve been more distant. He can just be a bit too much sometimes. Especially now. 

“What the hell are you doing.”

He’s up. Standing by his bedroom cobblestone fireplace. Wrapped in his blankets. And the corner of said blanket is on fire. Jimin manages to stomp it out before it can light up the entire goddamn thing and burn his body as well. There’s definitely no cure for that.

He sulks. “I was just trying to start the fireplace. I’m cold!”

“Go back to bed before I knock you out.”

With your monotone and dead stare, Jimin knows not to mess around. He doesn’t banter or add unnecessary comments. “Yes, ma’am.”

You sigh and as he gets settled down again, you place the tonic down on his bedside.

As much as you want to answer another house call and escape this place, you can’t leave him be. Jimin almost set himself and the house on fire, and knowing him, he’d somehow hurt himself again and you’d have to come back anyway. There’s no one else to take care of him. At least not here.

“When you get better, you should probably go home.” You look down to see his chubby fingers gripping the edge of the blanket that he’s brought to the bridge of his nose. The only features of Jimin revealed are his eyes and his soft locks of hair against the pillow. He looks both dumb and cute. You can’t decide which. “To your parents.”

Jimin’s eyes crinkle and you know he’s smiling. “But I’m already home.”

For the briefest of moments, a mere millisecond, your brows furrow. 

You quickly turn away, but Jimin caught your expression all too easily. His smile falls.

There’s an undeniable tension to the air ever since you stepped foot inside this house. Every bantering remark from you has had more of a vicious bite to it than usual. And you know you’ve been shutting down his playful teasing each time when you used to entertain it more. But it’s all been subtle. No one should notice the change.

Too bad Jimin’s too perceptive for his own good. 

He can tell you’re not comfortable, that your shoulders are tense, that you’re trying to get out of here….

And sensing a confrontation, you make an escape. “I have to grab something from—”

The blanket is thrown off. Jimin lurches forward. His hand wraps around your wrist before you’re too far away.

“I can’t keep playing pretend,” he murmurs in a velvet voice, mischievous side tucked away in favour of something more serious. “Pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay.”

You control your expression, turn to face him and you play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You’re mad.”

You scoff and something inside you snaps. He just has to force a confrontation when you clearly don’t want one, doesn’t he? But why are you surprised. What Jimin wants, Jimin gets. 

“Why would I be mad? That you dated Jungkook when you knew I had it bad for him?” Your sarcasm is venomous and it’s spat from your lips. “Of course not! I’m over it.” 

You never expected your friend would become your love rival. You know Jimin’s ass is nice — it’s clear to see. But you never knew it would be weaponized against you.

He winces and lets go of you. “Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

“What could your side possibly be, Jimin? What’s your excuse this time?”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“You knew I liked Jungkook! I told you about it. I confided in you. But you went ahead and dated him anyway!”

Jimin sputters. “It’s not my fault he liked me!”

The hand gripping your wand quivers but in your anger, you still know better than to use an offensive spell against him. “You were giving him signals!”

Jimin slumps. It’s an admission of guilt.

Yet he still has the audacity to blurt, “I just didn’t want him to go out with you!”

“Why?! Because you’d be jealous?!” you shout and he pales. You know you’ve hit bullseye, so you keep going, “You don’t want to be the only lonely one? You’d rather us both not date?”

Jimin sighs out of frustration. “It’s not like that, Y/N.”

There’s a burning in your eyes. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you got infected with the Black Cat Disease, but you realize it’s tears. Which is even worse.

“It was a shitting thing to do,” you seethe in a sharp whisper. “And you didn’t even like him. You dumped him after three days.”

“I had to.”

But by then, you don’t want to hear him anymore. You can’t take it anymore. 

You twist on your heel and leave the room, eyes stinging at the betrayal of your friend. You don’t know why he has to confront you now when you’re supposed to be working. He’s always catching you off guard, always caring more for himself. Jimin has no regard for you whatsoever.

You have half a mind to realize Jimin’s chasing after you, limping on his bandaged foot.

“Will you just wait? Where are you going?! Y/N!” The floorboard in the hall cracks. Jimin’s other foot falls through and becomes lodged into the ground. He curses aloud, physically stuck in place. But you don’t turn around. He’s not your problem anymore. He should’ve never been—

“I can’t date him when I’m in love with you!”

You freeze. And turn around. “What?”

“I know. I fucked up. I just….I didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you. So I started to flirt with him and the next thing I know, he’s asking me out. I didn’t know you’d be so hurt, that you liked him so much.” Jimin’s downcast eyes search the floor in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you just say?”

He looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“No, before that.”

“I...didn’t want Jungkook to go out with you..?”

“No, you idiot! You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah.” Jimin shifts and realizes his foot is still stuck in the floor. He winces. “Fuck, Y/N. My feet really hurt. I need to sit down.”

You immediately move, putting his arm around your shoulder and hoisting him up. The both of you are silent as you guide him back into bed. His house is practically destroyed from his bad luck — door knobs gone, door frames chipped off, glass shards everywhere, smoke in the living room and now a giant hole in the hallway. But you know there’s nothing a wand can’t fix, so you push it all aside. 

There’s more important matters to deal with.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” you whisper, unable to believe it.

Jimin, lying on his bed, turns his head towards you and the corners of his mouth draw meekly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but guess I did that anyway.” After a beat, he reveals, “I was….I was making that potion for you. I wanted you to like me again.”

“Why? Did you think I hated you or something?”

“Seemed like it.” He smiles more genuinely. “Especially after all that, how could I not?”

“I was just mad. Still kind of am.” You scoff lightly, unable to fathom how everything spiraled out of control from one event. You’ll truly never understand how Jimin’s brain works and how he managed to make such a mess. He’s stupid. Endearingly stupid. “I’d kiss you if you weren’t sick.”

All at once, Jimin’s eyes light up. “You...you don’t hate me for being in love with you?”

“No, you idiot.”

“Then…..do you feel the same way?”

“It’s just a lot to take in,” you admit, feeling your face warm. This was a different kind of confrontation that you didn’t expect to happen tonight and you’re not sure you hate it. “But...when you get better, take me on a proper date and I’ll tell you then.”

Jimin grins, getting settled into his sheets. “I’m feeling better already.”

....

epilogue.

((Jimin, in fact, does not feel better. He wakes up worse and you end up having to deliver him into the clinic where he’s looked after for the next two weeks. It’s one of the worst Black Cat Disease cases that the witch doctors have ever seen. His entire house ends up being taped off for being a biohazard and the potion in the cauldron is taken as a biochemical weapon. It’ll apparently be two months until he can move back in, so he’s rendered homeless.

When he’s discharged from the clinic, you take him in. 

And that date doesn’t happen for a while considering his feet take much longer to recover and he’s practically limping everywhere. Apparently the glass really got lodged in there and his floorboards are super sharp once they’ve been punctured. But he still tries to take you for a midnight broom ride. You stop him when his bandages are soaked with blood. That one attempt doubled his recovery time. 

It turns out his cat, Seokjin, was stuck in a onesie because it was Jimin’s way of dealing with the fleas on his cat. As if covering the issue would make it go away. And by the time you realized this, your house had an entire flea infestation.

When Jimin’s healthy again, you’re this close to kicking him out. But with every mistake he makes, he fixes each of them. Sort of. And he really does manage to sweep you off your feet on that date. As stupid as Jimin can be, he has his own charms and he bewitches you under the stars and moonlight.

But by then, it’s not like it really matters. 

You’ve been living with the guy. Sleeping together, in both meanings. And you argue a healthy amount. Just like a married couple.))

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin reader insert #jimin x reader #jimin fanfiction #Anonymous

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦  ღ  ◦∘  Harrison Osterfield - Quarantine  ∘◦  ღ  ◦∘

A/N - I wrote this during the first lockdown that Britain were in. ow we’re in the third, and almost a year later, I’m uploading this onto my Tumblr from my Wattpad. And yes, before everyone says it, I am fully aware that the Holland’s and Haz were isolating in two different houses and haven’t been living together for months, but this makes it more amusing, and as I say, it was written a while ago. I do not know Harrison, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - cursing, smut, detailed sex, cockwarming, oral, kinky names, mentions of sleeping around... you know the drill by now.

Summary - Quarantine with a bunch of sex deprived twenty-odd year old boys isn’t your idea of fun, especially not when the only one you want refuses to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Taking measures into your own hands is only simple until you get caught.

YOU AREN’T SURE HOW, but in some strange twist of fate, you’ve ended up in self isolation with the Holland’s. But it doesn’t end there, no, not just the Holland’s, but Harrison and Tuwaine too.

You have a bed in the attic, the other side of Harrison’s room, but you’re hardly sleeping in it. Seeing as you’re the only girl among an entire collection of (ahem, horny) and barely adult boys, you were most certainly on their beckon call. You didn’t mind being called to Sam, Harry’s, even Tom’s rooms late at night; you simply wished that you'd be asked to sleep with the one you actually wanted. Harrison.

You and he had been friends as long as you could remember, neighbours from age 4 and friends ever since. Even through uni when you studied a double major and you had zero free time, he was still constant in your life. You’d met Tom and the boys, the twins being closer to your age, and gotten on with them all as well. It just so happened that you ended up on a job with Mr Holland, and that’s what brought all of you closer together with you being in their house often to work on this project it also just so happened that you’d been hanging around with them all when lockdown was announced, leaving you to be in trouble if you drove halfway across London to your own home, so they invited you to stay and had any and all necessary items mailed to you by your roommate. You were only trusted to stay with Harrison after your history together and nothing ever having come of you two, though Mrs Holland did not trust the other boys enough with you and therefore did a bed check every night and every morning to make sure you were alone, though it was always a deceitful check on everyone’s behalf. 

You didn’t thank Tom, Sam or Harry post-sex since you’d always have to return to your own cold bed, next to a sleeping Harrison, a sleeping Harrison who wouldn’t dare use you as a booty call like the other three did. It was safe to say that Harrison also had no idea of your truancies since he slept like a light and no one would discuss your actions at the dinner table to save your dignity, and their own necks.

Tonight though, you have other plans. Harrison has some papers to look through and will therefore be sitting at his desk, procrastinating before his computer for hours, only to be left to flick through the contract at an utterly ungodly hour, and he’d proceed to sleep tomorrow, all throughout the day. You were going to help him relax: maybe a massage, a cuddle, a blunt. Or you’d sit on his lap, watch to see whether he’d tense or relax beneath your bare legs, or whether he’d pick up on whose shirt you were to wear. That was the only tell: you’d steal a shirt from each brother to wear as a mark the next day, but you’d simply claim they were more comfortable than your own tight fitting button downs and crop tops. Harrison hadn’t noticed, not yet though as far as you knew, but each brother wore a slight smirk every day that you wore their shirt.

It hurt that Harrison wouldn’t be able to tell with his usual obliviousness, but you’d shower before seeing to him tonight, and wear one of his shirts so that when he got it back it might smell like you, a scent he claimed to enjoy.

As soon as dinner finishes, you leap away from the three boys all vying for your attention.

“I have work to do, and a shower to have. Plus, I’m tired.” You respond to all three on your journey up the stairs, hearing Harrison groan very loudly from the attic, followed by his head hitting the keyboard of his laptop. You smile sadly to yourself, a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement expelling from your body while the water lashes at your skin, soothing any pain or fear you may be feeling. You increase the heat, allowing the steam to fill your pores as you lean your head forwards to keep your hair dry, held in a messy bun.

You imagine his touch all over your bare body, his finger tracing your jaw, but a knock on the door and a yell to hurry up snaps you from your trance, making you turn off the water and wrap a soft towel (that you know to be Harrison’s) around yourself. You scowl at Harry on your way out, in response to which he sticks his tongue out childishly. 

You end up mostly dry after taking a longer than usual walk up the steps to the attic, lingering on each one until the balls of your feet become sore. You peek your head around the door, only to see Harrison in a hoodie and boxers, a grimace on his lips while attacking his keyboard with a ferocity that you’ve scarcely seen. His anger causes you to furrow your brows, silently wishing that you succeed in calming him instead of making him feel worse. 

You slip into a pair of panties and grab your favourite of his shirts off one of the hangers. You pull out your phone under a guise if he spots you, absentmindedly scrolling through your feed while eyeing Harrison. He slows his typing and begins clicking his mouse at the screen slowly, intently reading the reams of white on his laptop. 

It’s time, you tell yourself, standing up from the bed and walking behind him. You place your hands on his shoulders, splaying your fingers and digging your thumbs in. Harrison’s body goes lax, his hands falling from the laptop to the desk, laying his hands flat on the wood. He lets out a groan and rolls his head back, falling right onto the pillow of your chest. You continue to rub his shoulders, enjoying the way he’s slowly relaxing under your therapeutic touch, that is until he swats you away with a small, sad smile. You sigh, having none of it, and crawl your hands down to the hem of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone dripping with boredom. “I have this contract to read, you know I do.”

“Exactly.” You reply after thinking for a moment. You want to say the right thing, you want this to go seamlessly, so every word has to be perfect, not to mention every action.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t battle against your bid to remove his hoodie, and obligingly lifts his arms up over his head so that you can pull his jumper off. You toss it to the side and hear something fall to the floor, but that’s somehow the least of your concerns. You reward Harrison with a kiss to the soft, unblemished skin of his neck - but it won’t stay that way, not for much longer. 

You thread your fingers into his beautiful brown locks and tug a little, just to let him know that you mean business. His lips part as though intending to let out a groan of some kind, but it doesn’t come, so with disappointment you continue to play with his hair the way you love to. He doesn’t stop you, so that’s something, right?

When he hasn’t given you attention for too long, albeit about five minutes, you walk around in front of him. His eyes are forced to retrain from his screen to where your breasts show in his top. Apparently, going braless in one of his tops has its perks, not talking about your nipples.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs. He pushes his chair out and gestures for you to drape yourself over his legs and lap, which you do more than willingly while wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at the wonderfully soft curls at the nape.

“I know this isn’t ideal, you need to do proper work and be having contact with your girls, but I’ll get you out soon, I know the boys are a lot.”

You simply hum in acknowledgement, adjusting your seat on his bare legs. Skin on skin, electrifying in every sense of the word. 

“That is why you’re doing this, right?” He asks, nervously almost, and you instantly feel as though you’re molesting him, until he wraps his strong arms around your back. You could moan at the contact, his muscles tensing all around you, the feel of Harrison and his smell radiating around you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You move your hands to his shoulders and begin to massage again, just from the front this time, a feeble attempt to procrastinate against your goal. Harrison’s gone back to reading his screen, so while he’s still gathering what he’s reading, it’s your only shot.

You twist on his lap until you’re completely straddling him, your forehead pressed to his. The beautiful blue-green of his eyes sends you into a trance, melting your insides. You can swear that you see him nod a little, so you begin to move your hips. You grind and swirl on his lap, undulating your hips in a perfect figure of eight when you feel him harden beneath you.

With your ministrations paused momentarily, you take a sharp intake of breath and say, “This was never about attention because I’ve been stuck with the boys, this is because I want you.”

Harrison’s face instantly melts into an expression of relief, a goofy smile on his (what you hope to be) soft lips.

“I thought you didn’t want me because you were sleeping with the others,” he says, and you shake your head, tears of relief and happiness almost spilling from your eyes. You feel warm and fuzzy despite the guilt, shame and anger bubbling from your truancies with the Holland boys. 

“You knew then?”

“How couldn’t I?” He remarks, “you’re all they talk about when there’s no adults and no Paddy in the room. What they did to you, how many times they made you cry out their names, the marks they tried to leave on you until your own dominant side came out. Every conversation I had to excuse myself out of mainly respect from you, because what they said upset me but I just couldn’t say so, but then I just came up here and imagined what you’d be doing to me.” Your heart hitches in your throat, butterflies filling your stomach and travelling into your every limb, making your skin tingle. Your stomach rises in goosebumps, as does the skin of your thighs, and you notice that it’s because Harrison has his hands underneath your (his) shirt, and he’s skimming over your waist and legs, holding you and savouring the feel of your skin beneath him. He kisses your neck, once, twice, and it’s gone.

He turns back to his computer and continues his work, looking over your shoulder and letting his eyes train every tiny black line of script on his screen. Your neediness is at an all time high, one hand resting absently on your hip, just above your bum while his other hand clicks at his keyboard and mouse like it’s second nature. The speed of his fingers makes you even needier, craving for him to be inside you already, so you climb onto his bare thigh and trap it between your own. 

You dig your hips down into his leg, grinding and aching for friction, and you already know that you’re dripping onto his skin. The fine hair on his thighs gives a delicious amount of friction - not too much but not too little. As you go further, your mouth parts a little more, allowing you to let out a strangled whimper. Your thigh brushes Harrison’s cock through his boxers, and you feel his hand grip your waist tighter, almost painfully.

Your pussy starts throbbing, aching for more of him, while your hands rake his back, leaving scratch marks in their wake. Your head falls to the crook of Harrison’s neck as you approach your high, moving your hips more fervently and letting out moans is anticipation. You wonder if Harrison is even able to pay attention to his contract anymore with what you’re doing to him, but that thought is set to rest when you’re right on the edge, but both of his hands grip your hips and move you off his thigh, the skin glistening with your essence. 

For a minute, you think he’ll be angry, make you clean it up, but instead he just kisses you. His lips catch yours more desperately than you could’ve dreamt, immediately biting down on your lower lip, trapped inside his mouth. You let out the loudest moan you could in the moment, but Harrison finds it heavenly, delving his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss while his hands grip your ass. He pulls away, looking at you with those puppy eyes that he knows you can’t resist. 

“Sit on my cock? Just ‘til I finish this section, then I’ll take you as hard as you want.” 

You look sceptical, and Harrison can tell, you know because he kissed you again and moves his hands from your bum to wrap his arms around your whole body and keep you close to him. His lips pressed against your own is enough convincing, so you move your panties aside and accommodate while Harrison takes his boxers off.

When he does, you’re surprised at how big he is, bigger than any of the lads you’ve been with before. Long and substantial, you want to drool just looking at his dick standing proud against his stomach. Nervously, you slide down on him. His girth stretches your every wall and his tip hits new spots until finally you’re balls deep. He groans and exhales, eyes closed while trying to gather his bearings. 

“Fuck.” He says. “Your cunt bottomed out on my cock, keeping me warm and hard, you’re an angel.”

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and involuntarily clench around him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, craving to have as much skin to skin contact as is possible. Your head lays on his chest to stay out of his way, and he seems thankful to be able to see the screen but also feel you. 

You stay seated on Harrison for no more than ten minutes as he taps away at his keyboard and scrolls through the pages. Occasionally he moves, stimulating you enough for you to gasp or tighten around him, and in those instances he kisses behind your ear. 

You listen to his heart, slowing or increasing its speed depending on your movements. The steady heave of his chest moving with his breathing is strangely calming, making you feel closer to him, more stimulated and comforted, something like love.

Suddenly, his laptop slams shut and he thrusts up into you. You yelp a little and snap your head up, nose nudging with his and your lips grazing. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy, and you’ve done it on purpose. Were you sleeping with the others to get my attention? Am I better than them already? Bigger?” You whimper, his words building a fire inside you. “You don’t have to answer, love, I can already tell by your body.”

You cling to him even tighter than before as he clears everything off his desk, breaking a pencil pot while he’s at it, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You choose a desk to fuck me on when we have two beds up here, both of which will make a lot less noise?” 

He looks downcast and releases a giggle. “Yeah, didn’t think of that.”

“It’s fine,” you say, cupping his jaw and caressing his stubbled cheek, “you can fuck me harder on this and let the boys know who I belong to tonight.”

He places you down beneath him on the desk, still hard inside you, but instead of attacking you again in a ferocious kiss, he looks down at you and marvels in your beauty just for a moment, his scrutiny surprisingly doesn’t phase you, it only makes you feel treasured, so as your eyes follow the movements of his rippling muscles, he smiles faintly and kisses you softly. 

“Fuck me Haz,” you whisper, those simple words being all the motivation needed, because he pulls out, leaving you whining at the emptiness of only his twitching tip inside your core, but within seconds he pushes all the way back in. 

He feels heavenly, your eyes rolling back into your head and a surprised moan leaving your lips. He smiles down at you before pulling out and thrusting back inside you, setting a steady pace. Every move feels like paradise, every jolt of his hips swindling shockwaves of pleasure through your craving body, having been desperate for him for a good while.

He feels heavenly inside you, his tip grazing that special spot inside you. “Harrison!” You cry, as quietly as you can. He leans down and pulls the neck of your (his) shirt down so that he can get access to your breast, immediately latching his lips onto your nipple, biting at it viciously while pressing his hands onto your spread thighs. You feel yourself approaching an edge, a timed coil curling inside your stomach as his ministrations continue. 

He’s so much better than the others - not that they weren’t good, they have a basic idea of what to do with you and how to use you, and they’re decently sized, but they can’t make you feel the way Harrison can. 

“I’m close...” you whisper between incoherent murmurs. He’s not too noisy, which may or may not be a blessing paired with the slamming and squeaking of the desk beneath your bodies, it’s mostly just breathy grunts and occasional curses.

“Me too, beautiful.” He dances his forefinger up your thigh and rubs circles around your wetness, allowing you to let go.

The coil within springs open, and you feel your body fall loose, vision blurring with stars in your eyes and core clenching around Harrison - it feels like heaven. Feeling this, he climaxes soon after you and to save from screaming, kisses you in a messy fight of teeth and tongues, half muffling the pornographic moans that would otherwise be bound to spill.

Harrison falls down onto you, chest heaving and breathless, but nonetheless he still places open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“I’ll wait for you to get your breath, shall I?” You tease while running your finger up and down his spine. He chuckles and climbs fully on top of you, cuddling you into his chest. “Well, now I can see why you don’t have a girlfriend yet. Can’t even go for one round without ending up flustered. Lucky that I’ll have you no matter.”

He hums into you, holding you and savouring the silence filled with only your breathing and a few sounds from downstairs, but soon the wood becomes too uncomfortable.

Harrison slips an arm beneath you and carries you across the room to his unmade bed, as opposed to your neatly tucked in one with your entire collection of clothes and makeup on top of the sheets, but his bed is probably comfier since he’s always in it. 

“Round two?”

Your heart rate increases, a burning blush rising to the tips of your ears as well as a shy smile snaking its way across your lips, still swollen from Harrison’s attack, not to mention the swollen parts of your skin where he paid a little more attention, leaving marks and memories for days to come.

“I’d like to see you try.” You tease, keeping your cool resolve despite feeling anxious straddling him, his eyes flitting between your chest, eyes and lips, unsure of what to do or how to use his mouth, a definite rarity for someone like him.

He seems desperate, putting his hands on your hips and thirstily jolting his hips upwards - if you’d been a few inches further down, he would’ve been straight back inside you, and maybe that’s what he was hoping for.

“Any hole’s a goal, isn’t that what Tom says?” 

He loves it when you tease him, that much you’re learnt over the years. Every girl he’s been with you’ve found a way to tease him about it, anything he says, anything he does, and he loves it since it usually ends in a play fight and him surrendering control of the tv remote to you. This time however, it ends in something far different.

He tugs the shirt up further and pulls you roughly so that your calves are either side of his neck, your once again dripping core hovering above his face and awaiting tongue. 

“Only if it’s yours.” He says, his breath sending shockwaves through your body straight from your core.

His tongue deftly finds its way through your folds and inside your tensing cavern, and it feels heavenly. His nose nudges at your clit while his tongue laps up all around you, his lips working in tandem while his tongue dances inside you. The moans leaving your mouth are otherworldly noises that you’ve never quite made before, maybe because you’ve never sat on anyone’s face, never mind someone as experienced as Harrison, something that you’re now learning is far from a bad thing. 

“Harrison!” You cry when he delves a little deeper. His eyes remain between your own and the way your boobs bounce inside his shirt while you squirm on top of him. Every noise the pair of you make masks the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to the attic, and muffle the sound of knocking on the door.

Harrison’s mouth continues its assault on your needy heat, your one hand weaving into his hair while the other massages your breast through your shirt, bringing stimulation to your nipple and bringing your climax closer and closer...

“Haz, we get that you hate work but you really don’t have to make so much noise- OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

You freeze, your recently shut eyes shooting open and darting over to the door, ajar with Tom standing just over the threshold, staring right at the two of you with a face of horror and disgust. Harrison however, bites down on your sensitive nub in his state of shock, and your second orgasm washes over you in such a state of unexpected euphoria that you lose all your bearings. 

You cry out Harrison’s name like a prayer, chanting it while he cleans you up, and it’s not for a solid minute after your climax ends that you realise Tom is still in the room with you, rendered speechless, mouth agape and dumbfounded. 

When you clock what’s happening, you grasp Harrison’s duvet and yank it up to cover you both while you climb off Harrison’s face, his lips still glistening with your cum. He seems lost for words, too, blanching more and more with every passing second. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. No one moves, except for Harrison’s cock twitching under the duvet.

“It’s not what it looks like...” you say, your words getting lost in the thick tension of the room, like a rubber band pulled so tightly that it could snap at any given moment.

“Really? Because it looks like Harrison was just eating you out!”

You can’t fault Tom's logic, it is exactly what it looks like, so you just blush and pull the duvet up to your chin while wishing for a black hole to swallow you up. 

You can’t help but notice how beautiful Harrison looks though, plump lips and that wonderful glint in his eyes, messy hair and no top. 

“Ok, so it’s exactly what it looks like, surprise?” You can’t figure out what to say to him in the current situation, but instantly feel relaxed when Harrison begins to rub his palm up and down your thigh beneath the duvet .

“What- oh, this is why you called?” Sam now makes an appearance, folding his arms and standing next to a resolute Tom. You can’t decipher if he’s angry, amused or something else. “Our plan worked!” He suddenly shouts, and within seconds, Harry arrives beside the pair, a smirk on his lips.

“Really? So shagging Y/N and talking about it in front of me was all a ploy to get us together? And if so, why does Mr Fancy Pants here look so angry?” Harrison asks, and you can feel him willing his boner to wilt while in the presence of the brothers.

“Yes!” Comes paddy’s voice from the doorway, swiftly standing in front of Tom. 

You smirk, but Harrison scowls, unable to accommodate this situation within his mind.

“He’s probably shocked because he walked in on you two... you know. But yeah, it was all a plan, sorry by the way.” Harry says, you just wave it off but Harrison’s grip on your leg tightens.

“Don’t be angry, it worked didn’t it?” Sam chimes in, patting Paddy on the back before making his way out.

Tom has to have the last word, you can see it on the settling lines on his forehead, so you brace yourself closer to Haz. “And don’t I bloody know that it worked!”

Maybe the drama was worth it for the laugh out of Tom’s reaction, though Harrison would argue with you there.

#harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #tom holland #tom holland imagine #haz osterfield smut #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield smut #Simon and mark #Tom and haz #holland boys

[fxcking-anon]

Red Cardigan

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: None :)

Word Count: 2,017

A/N: I just can’t stop thinking about how cute this would be and I’m touch starved from quarantine, what else can I say? (@random-ravings you asked and you shall receive.) Also, it has been years since I’ve written so cut me a tiny bit of slack as I get back on the horse...also I’ve never written a reader insert before lol. 

P.S. I did proofread this but I’m also tired and maybe a little tipsy so....

----------

Your eyes fluttered open, met with bright sun streaming in between the slats of your bedroom blinds. You squinted and stretched, letting your back crack as you sat up. You instantly regretted it. The covers had fallen from your chest, leaving you exposed to the icy temperatures of your apartment. Looking around, you found something red and soft folded on your nightstand. You quickly pulled it on, buttoning it as fast as you can with your numb fingers. 

As you covered your hands with the sleeves, you realized this was Spencer’s cardigan. His cologne lingered, making you smile as you took in a deep breath. You looked to your left to see him, still asleep and hugging his pillow. His face was always so peaceful when he slept. Spencer cared so much about his cases, something you absolutely adored about him. However, it did make you sad to see how he carried that stress with him. So often you caught him staring off into space, brows furrowed and fingers tapping on his thigh. Asleep, Spencer’s whole body was relaxed. His breaths were deep and even. He didn’t clench his jaw or his shoulders. He just...was. You smiled as you stared at him. It was hard not to, he just looked so soft and small. 

He let out a small sigh and squeezed the pillow a little tighter, making your heart flutter. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his temple. He smiled in his sleep, making your heart swell even more. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. 9:13 am. You and Spencer rarely had a morning to sleep in together. Your work schedules were unpredictable, both of you often getting called in at the last minute. So you decided to make the most of the morning. 

You braced yourself for the cold of the apartment as you peeled off the covers and stepped onto the hardwood. Pulling out the drawer of the nightstand, you pulled out your thickest pair of fuzzy socks slipped your feet into them. You then slid over to the dresser to pull on some underwear. Spencer had rid you of those early last night. When you both knew you had the next morning off, you made the most of it the night before. You glanced briefly at the bit of exposed skin on your chest, finding it littered with love bites, and giggled. Spencer had a habit of leaving marks. He would never say it, but he liked seeing physical proof you were his. And honestly, so did you. You always found yourself disappointed as they faded. 

You tiptoed your way into the small kitchen of your apartment, lightly shutting the bedroom door on your way. Knowing there were fresh blueberries in the fridge, you decided to whip up one of Spencer’s favorites, blueberry pancakes. Before you pulled out the pancake mix, you started a pot of coffee. Your boyfriend’s caffeine addiction had gotten to the point where he couldn’t function without at least two cups of coffee. Rather than try to have a conversation with a walking zombie, you learned to have coffee on hand when he rose from the dead. 

You were just about finished stirring the blueberries into the batter when you heard shuffling behind you. “Y/N?”

You turned around to see Spencer, wrapped in a cable knit blanket, standing in the kitchen door frame. His eyes were half shut, resisting the natural light pouring through the kitchen windows. It certainly didn’t help that two inches of snow had accumulated the night before, reflecting everything off of the bright white surface. 

“Good morning sleepyhead,” you smiled at him as you turned back to your batter. You quickly ran your hand under the faucet and flicked a few water droplets onto your frying pan. Hearing them sizzle, you rummaged around a drawer for a ladle. You could hear Spencer shuffle over to the coffee pot and pull a mug out of the cabinet. You ladled the first three pancakes into the pan before turning to your boyfriend again. He was in the middle of adding a fifth spoonful of sugar to his coffee when he sensed your eyes on him and turned.

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy and low. You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around him, letting him pull his blanket around the both of you. Between the blanket, his sweater and him, his scent flooded your body. You wanted to freeze that moment and stay there forever. It wasn’t that you didn’t love the more spontaneous moments of your relationship. There, right in that moment, you were just completely at peace. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beat and his warmth radiated into you. This was true contentment. This was peace. “Baby, as much as I love your hugs, your pancakes are going to burn,” Spencer said, releasing his hold on you. You leaned up to give him a quick peck before grabbing your spatula and flipping the pancakes over. 

“Do you want to grab some plates? I was going to set the table before I went to wake you up. Seems that coffee went and did that for me instead.”

Spencer just hummed in agreement before beginning to set your kitchen table. You flipped the pancakes one more time, making sure they were golden brown on both sides. Right as you were piling them onto the spatula, you heard Spencer take in a sharp breath.

“Is that...is that my cardigan?” His stare was intense as he raked his eyes down your body from your semi exposed chest to where the cardigan rested at the tops of your thighs. 

You rounded the table to place the three pancakes on his plate, standing between his legs. “It is, you left it on the nightstand and it looked so warm. It’s freezing in the apartment today,” you leaned down to peck his nose when he lightly grabbed the back of your neck and guided you into a deeper kiss. Pulling you onto his lap, he started to pepper kisses down your neck. You let out a light moan as he lightly sucked on one of the marks he’d left last night. 

Bringing his lips to your ear, he mumbled in his gruff morning voice, “I knew I liked you in my clothes Y/N, but this has to be my new favorite.” You lifted a hand under his chin to pull his lips back to yours. The kiss was soft and slow, making you feel just the slightest bit lightheaded. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away, moving to get up to flip the second round of pancakes. His hands slid to your hips and held you for a second. “The pancakes,” you whined at him, shuffling a little bit to try and wiggle from his grip. He pressed another kiss to your lips before releasing you. Even as you turned your back to him to tend to your breakfast, you could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your back. You flipped the pancakes smoothly, refusing to let yourself turn around to meet his gaze just yet. As badly as you wanted him, your anxiety was screaming that the apartment would catch on fire if you left the frying pan unattended again. So you stood there, still, feeling his eyes on you as you waited for the second round of pancakes to brown. When they finally did, you stacked them on your spatula again and turned off the stove top. 

Turning around, you found Spencer halfway through his pancakes. You deposited your pancakes on your own plate and sat down. Your pancakes, however, remained untouched. Now it was you who was staring. His hair curled around his face and stuck up at strange angle in the back. He hadn’t yet had his daily fight with his cowlick. He’d tied his blanket around his neck like a cape so he could have his hands free to eat. It amazed you sometimes how he could be both adorable and drop dead sexy at the same time. Noticing you were staring, Spencer’s eyes flitted up to meet yours. His fork hovered halfway between the plate and his mouth. It took him a moment before he decided to set it down. He sat upright and continued to hold your gaze.

“You are so beautiful,” he said. You felt the blush rush to your cheeks as you broke the gaze. You turned away from him, fixating your eyes on the grout between the kitchen tiles. “Y/N,” Spencer said, urging you to look at him again. You turned back to him hesitantly, barely meeting his gaze. You knew Spencer loved you, that he thought all those wonderful things about you. However, it didn’t make it any easier for you to accept his compliments. Years of insecurity and toxic relationships will do that to a person. 

You met his eyes tentatively. “Yes?”

“You are so, so beautiful,” Spencer said again. “Your mind, your soul, your body...they’re all so very beautiful.” You blushed even harder this time and forced yourself to maintain the eye contact. “Every day,” Spencer continued, “I’m amazed by how beautiful your heart is. You care so much about people and you would give any and everything for the people you love. It makes you radiant. You just radiate love and kindness and positivity.”

You wanted to go to him. You wanted to take his face in your hands and kiss every square inch of it. You wanted to show him just how deeply you loved him. Spencer was always better with words than you were. It certainly helped that he had every word in the dictionary permanently imprinted in his brain. 

You decided to go to him. You stood and walked around the table before perching on the edge of the table right in front of him. “I love you,” you whispered, cupping his chin in between your hands. He leaned forward to catch your lips in his again. He kissed you slowly, taking his time. He tasted like maple syrup and coffee and in that moment, that combination was the most divine taste in the world. It was your nectar of the gods. He ran his hands up your sides, once again pulling you into his lap. He chuckled into your kiss and you pulled away to look at him quizzically.

“You feel so soft,” Spencer said, chuckling again as he ran his hands over the fabric of his cardigan.

“Babe, this is yours. You wear this. All the time.” Your brow was furrowed as you cocked your head to the side to stare at him.

“I know! But I never feel the outside of it like this. I like it, it’s warm.” He proceeded to bury his face in your chest to press the soft fabric to his face. You laughed as he pulled you closer, his face settled directly between your breasts.

“Spence!” you giggled, “That tickles!” His hair was brushing lightly against your skin as you squirmed against him, just tickling you further. Somehow, you managed to slip from his grip and hop off the table. 

As you ran from the kitchen, Spencer jumped up to chase you. “Y/N,” he whined, “Baby, come back!” He caught up to you quickly. His long legs gave him that advantage in your tiny apartment. He grabbed your waist from behind, tugging you into his chest. You spun around to face him and roped your arms over his shoulders. 

“I like you in my cardigan, Y/N,” Spencer said again, softly as his lips pressed to your ear. 

“Funny, I thought you’d like me better without it,” you said, a coy smile creeping onto your face. His expression darkened slightly. You knew what buttons to push to get a reaction out of him. Spencer liked to be right, he always had to come out on top. 

“Oh, so you want to play dirty?” Spencer challenged back. Before you knew what was happening, he’d scooped you up over his shoulder and started towards the bedroom. “Fine, let’s play dirty.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #you in his cardigan #just winter morning cuddly moments ya know

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 17

Description:

Notes: WC: 6.3k

+

"What are you doing here?" Came a low voice, speaking in a foreign language.

Both of you whipped around, wide eyes meeting the stern gaze of a muscular man. His bare waist was toned and dark, covered partially by a long, curly beard of black hair that came down in a straight cylinder from his chin. He crossed his arms.

"We... clean," you tried slowly, glancing to Ahk for any help or assurance. Ahk, unfortunately, had none to offer.

"Your supplies are over there," he said gruffly in Akkadian. Neither of you understood that sentence, but the man pointed back to where you'd came from, and you both silently agreed it'd be best to just go wherever he told you to.

The man, who you now noticed had a sword on his hip, followed you to the back of the temple.

"Do you know when you said you do.. keep me safe, in my travel," you whispered in Egyptian.

"I remember, yes," he muttered, glancing back at the guard.

"Well???"

"... are you saying you want me to stab this man?"

"In safe place," you whispered with a nod.

Ahkmen sucked in a breath, his hand tightening over the dagger's hilt sheathed beneath his longer robes. He had never directly killed anyone––perhaps by careless decisions and ignorance, yes, but never with a knife in his hand.

"I thought we agreed we're just coming to see what it is then leaving," he whispered, leaning down to you partway.

"We see it, now we go! We will get food and leave this city," you hissed.

Before you knew it, rags and sweeping brooms were set out in front of you, and you found yourself returning to what you did best, according to the Egyptian priests––cleaning.

The guard only left you alone when you were both on your knees, cleaning the feet of a statue you were not allowed to look at. You kept your head down, breathing roughly as you dusted and polished the stone, sparing glances only to Ahk. As expected, he wasn't quite as thorough as you were and required a couple whispered instructions.

Speaking Egyptian was not the best idea, but speaking in a language those around you understood would've been more detrimental. So it was only in whispered breaths that you spoke. Behind you, the old man continued to speak in a half-dead voice, reciting indecipherable scripture. Every now and then he'd turn the page––the first time he did it, you were at the knees of the statue, polishing the smooth stone, and the second time the page turned, you were washing the statue's hips and skirt.

Once you finished, you both darted away, grabbing the rags and water as the old man approached. He'd moved from his spot for the first time, appearing from behind a curved wall of stone and wood that he preached in front of. The two of you still managed to peek out from behind the arches, overshadowed beneath evening light still flowing dimly in.

Citizens eventually made their way out of the temple, leaving the old man alone with a couple guards––one of which was the one who originally caught you––before the soldiers relented to the coming night.

The harder you squinted, the more you could see, and Ahkmen managed to catch the old man's mouth still moving in unspoken murmurs. He then knelt upon a cushion sat in front of the statue, his hands clasped together. You watched in silence for a moment more, until the old man slowly turned to face you, an empty, kind smile in his expression.

"Come here, children," he rasped out, beckoning you forward with bony fingers.

You glanced to Ahk, subconsciously pressing yourself tighter to him. He swallowed his fears best he could, took your hand, and stepped quietly forward.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked, but in Akkadian, and you couldn't understand him.

"I... what?" You said ever so hesitantly.

"Mm..," the preacher glanced between you, "what language do you speak?"

Egyptians weren't all that well liked in this region. The Sumerian language, though, might fare better.

"I speak Sumerian," he said in his chosen language, keeping his voice nonetheless quiet.

"Harappan," you added for yourself.

"I am Namluh," the man said with as much of a bow as his frail, aching body could do. He stood and turned to Ahk, speaking in Sumerian, "come drink the Holy water."

Namluh, now that you were close to him, was only a little bit taller than you, and shorter than Ahk, though he wasn't aided by the kinked hump on his back. In short, almost shaky steps he led you to where he'd been preaching. Now, a well stood before you, whose bottom dug so deep into the earth you couldn't see the water that would usually reflect even dim light. You tried to peer down further, but Ahk pulled you back before you could.

Using a rope, Namluh lowered a water-tight reed basket into the stone well. It took nearly a whole minute till you heard the splashing of water, and another couple minutes while Namluh carefully pulled the basket back to the surface. Ahkmen was tempted to help, but far too scared of the man to say anything out of line, and instead watched with his hand encircling yours.

At last the rope rose to its end, bringing with it a basket of crystal clear water sloshing in its' unsteady borders. Namluh took up two flasks from the chest behind him, dipping them into the water, and handing them to you when they no longer bubbled beneath the water's surface.

"Drink, children," he said with a slow nod.

Your hand tightened around his fingers, pressing your racing heartbeat against his. He glanced to you with a knotted brow, and realized something faster than he could truly think––and he was sipping from the flask, swallowing a gulp of freezing cold water.

Ahkmen could hear your breath catch in his throat. He rubbed the bank of your hand softly, allowing you a small comfort before you, too, drank the groundwater. It appeared, after a moment, to be nothing more than water, unlaced and clean.

"You are new here," Namluh said when you both began to shuffle awkwardly.

"Yes," Ahkmen admitted softly.

"Where do you come from?"

"Jericho."

The preacher paused, looking them up and down before he asked, "have you drunk the water of the Euphrates?"

You and Ahk shared a confused look.

"Well, yes," he answered with a slow nod.

"I see... come with me," Namluh rasped, turning and walking towards the main entrance to the temple.

Although uncertain, you followed him, squeezing one another's hands whenever your heartbeat picked up.

Cool, gentle winds blew about the city, tossing Ahk's mangled hair about his dusty face. A refresh of petrichor hit both of you, a stark difference from the incense that poisoned the air of the temple. Houses that were previously abandoned were now filled with sparse lights, the families inside usually very large, numbering around 6 to 10 on average, and all looking starving.

You nudged Ahk with your elbow.

"Ask him, what it is with the water," you whispered in Egyptian. He nodded.

"Uh, Namluh –" Ahk tapped the man's shoulder, startling him. Ahk quickly apologized. "What is wrong with the water?"

"In the winter, disease breeds off the malnourished masses," he said, a form of speaking that reminded Ahkmen heavily of the way his teacher spoke. "In this last year, the disease arrived by the water, and our city has suffered greatly."

Ahkmen whispered slow, clunky translations into your ear, arising an expression of confused alarm.

"That must answer a question I'm sure you have," Namluh said with a dry chuckle. "I have saved this city through the water I pull from the ground."

"Wait – wait. We did drink from the river. What does that mean for us?" Ahk asked, a growing panic rising in his chest.

"I do not know, truthfully," he said as he stopped in front of a building, turning to face you. "No one has drunk from the river for a long time now. Until then you must be watched."

"Watched?"

Namluh knocked on the door and near instantaneously soldiers, though not as tall or muscled as the ones in the temple, appeared through the tall doorway. Both of you froze up, making their job easy––they dragged you into the tall, mud building, shoving you inside and closing the door behind you before you could even think to protest. A large, metal clanging could be heard as they locked you inside.

Your mouth fell open from what Ahk could only presume to be shock.

"What has happened?" You asked in a loud, flat voice.

"I think... we're being quarantined," he said, his wide eyes staring blankly forward.

"What in time?"

"Quarantined," he repeated as he looked to you. "They've locked us up so that illness can't spread to anyone else."

"But we do not... we are not sick," you said.

"They think the river's what's making them sick, and I told him that we drank from it, so..."

"... fucked," you finished for him.

He snorted.

"Yeah, I guess so."

The room, while unlit, could be seen through the couple windows that allowed moonlight in. As scarce as it was, you could still see till the end of a hall lined with beds, some empty, and some occupied. You sucked in a sharp breath at the realization you were not alone, stepping so your side was pressed to Ahk.

Victims.

Or, the already dead. Most of the beds didn't move––not even to breathe, the leaf-thin sheets covered in the dust left by incense burned hours ago. Sitting at the wall opposite the door was another altar not unlike the one you found in the temple. There was no well of water, but there was a plate piled with ash from incense in front of a small statue, seemingly another god that neither of you recognized. Your footsteps that echoed in the tall ceiling eventually earned you a harsh 'shh!' from one of the beds, and while you couldn't tell who had shut you up you dutifully stayed silent.

Ahkmen tried to say something to you, but he was speaking too quietly. Since if he spoke louder he would be heard by others, he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as they moved.

"Should we sleep?"

"It is night," you said, almost reluctant to agree.

The beds had no frame, but they did have a good amount of cushioning that Ahk enjoyed immensely after sleeping on the ground for weeks on end. He wandered a little while before he found the largest, most comfortable bed, and jogged back over to you on the other side of the room.

"I found the best one," he said, grabbing your wrist.

"Good for you," you said as you continued to scan the beds in front of you.

"No," he tugged on you, causing you to face him, "come join me."

Your mouth opened into an 'oh' shape despite not making any sound, and followed after him.

To the right of the bed was the entrance of the hall, as well as a few more empty beds, and to the left was a bed with a suspiciously unmoving body within the sheets. You both tried to ignore that, sidling into the bed beside one another. It was a little small for two people, but you were equally small, and Ahk could easily pull you against him so your back was pressed tight to his chest. The sheet was tossed aside, useless with your combined heat warming each other.

His breath tickled the top of your head, and though the eerie silence still surrounded you in pitch black night, you giggled and scratched at your hair. He chuckled, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly.

"Go to sleep, Yogasundari," he murmured, his words partially blurred  with his lips on your head.

"You go sleep, malam," you retorted as you shifted your body.

Your bags were still in the strange temple. Ahkmen nearly forgot where you were, along the route of the river, and along the traipse of your trek to Harappa. He thought a moment, his eyes staring at the lump in the bed next to you.

Rapiqum. Rapiqum was apparently home to some cult-like figures, and not the kind that Ahk generally enjoyed or knew. Disease and the struggle for water; the same battles fought since the beginning of time almost 5,000 years ago. Ahk held you tighter yet, hoping––or praying––you would never struggle for such things again. There was a certain doubt that preyed on the edge of his mind, whispering that the symptoms would've started a while ago, especially after continuous days of drinking from the Euphrates.

Piye would know, a sudden thought that brought a pang of guilt through his chest like a lightning bolt. He could see them again, he reasoned––he could return to Egypt after you no longer needed him, or Piye could alternatively visit him. They didn't like travelling all that much, but enjoyed learning about other people just as he did.

He would see them again.

A dry, empty feeling trickled down his throat.

He had to see them again.

He gripped you tighter, curling himself around your sleeping body as he closed his eyes at last.

Ahkmen awoke to empty arms and a sense of morning chill creeping in from the high-up vents in the ceiling. He opened his dry, red eyes, finding the bed next to him empty as well. That woke him up a little better, and he blearily made his way to his feet, blinking at the haze-filled room thick with the scent of kyphi incense. He could only tell as he'd encountered it quite a lot––it was a favorite of Egyptians, and most common there. This was clearly not Egypt, and he soon recalled he was in Mesopotamia with quite a lot of distaste for himself.

A short line of children anywhere from the ages of 6 to 20 stood down the middle of the hallway, leading up to the altar from which the incense burned. The priest who had locked you and him inside was at the head of the room, passing out something he once again couldn't see, hidden behind the tallest boys' head.

You were standing near the end of the line. Once he caught sight of you, he jogged over.

"What's going on?" He asked in a hushed voice.

"He is giving bread," you murmured. "Beer. No water."

"Okay.. just to make sure, the plan is still to get out of here, right?"

"Yes," you said, the corners of your lips quirking up. "Food is good, we need to eat."

"I suppose so," he said quietly.

Ahk's gaze shifted from you to Namluh, who stood at a table handing out bits of bread and small cups of beer. The two of you were the oldest of all the kids staying in the hall, which meant that as Ahkmen approached the table, he was quick to notice the portion sizes were smaller than the palm of his hand. He frowned, but took what he was given anyway.

You found a seat back on the makeshift bed you'd slept on, crossing your legs and eating in silence. On your last couple bites you offered Ahk the rest of your bread.

"No, don't do that," he said, pushing your hand away. "Eat it. You need it just as much as I do."

"A fly does not eat what a bird does," you said, and offered the food again.

He sighed as he took it. You grinned, but a quiet fluster overcame you when he split it in half, and handed one of the halves to you.

Mother of Gods, he thought as he watched you eat. I'm whipped.

Throughout the day, there were no other visitors except the priest who checked in sparsely. The chaos Ahkmen had been expecting never came, and instead he spent the day watching sick children sit around, picking at the dusty floors, too tired to move. A handful were in a genuinely sick position––clutching their heads or stomachs, features twisted with pain and nausea.

His sandal scraped against the floor as he drew his knee closer to his chest, eyeing the tired children warily. As pathetic as they were, Ahkmen didn't want to take chances, even with a disease he didn't trust the origins of. You, on the other hand, tried a couple times to go speak to a few of the kids, but were stopped by Ahk tugging you back down.

"We should try and stay away from the sickness," he said, watching you slowly move back to your knees. "Or whatever this is."

"Fine," you said with a huff, crossing your arms as you sat down next to him.

Ahkmen fiddled with his hands as he thought about your bags, locked into the temple in a dark corner. All of your potions, your weapons, and his belongings were now missing, but what he found he missed the most was carving into that shitty block of wood he found in the middle of the desert. It kept his hands busy,and creating something tangible––rather than ordering the work of servants and builders––satisfied him, a feeling that only grew when he fantasized giving you a wonderful thing.

He closed his eyes, his head thunking on the wall when he leant back. What had he gifted you throughout your friendship?

Was it even a friendship anymore?

It felt like more than that. Or less than that, but either way it felt strange to call you his friend.

Other half, he thought. That didn't sound right either.

Companion?.. no.

Your bodyguard. Your protector.

Your secret admirer.

His cheeks lit up a bright red at even the thought of that, and he pulled his legs to his chest, hiding his face in crossed arms that leant on his knees. A hand on his shoulder brought him quickly away from that.

"You are okay?" You asked.

"Yes, sorry," he said with a heavy sigh. "I just want to get our belongings back."

"We will do that this night," you assured him.

"Right... we should probably think about how we're going to do that," he said, glancing to you till your gaze brought that blush back to him and he had to turn away.

"It can not open," you said as you pointed to the door. "That is Namluh's home."

Over the top of your head, Ahk could spy another, much smaller door on the opposite side of the room, near the altar.

"I hate doors," Ahkmen said, frowning.

"Why??" You chuckled.

"Can't see past them," he said.

"You are funny, Aganu."

He frowned again. That usually meant you thought he was 'kind of' stupid.

In the eveningtime, Namluh returned with bread and beer, the common staple of––Ahk assumed––the whole world. He stood at the altar in view of the whole room, his hunched back leaning over the table, upon which the small rations of food were spread out. Children and teenagers soon lined up, their shoulders sagging and eyes darkened with restless sleep.

Ahk watched on with a brow he wasn't aware was furrowed. You eventually stood as well, and Ahk followed dutifully, without thought, to join you in the line.

Namluh muttered prayers and blessings as he handed out the food, the proportions equal to or smaller than what you'd gotten in the morning. Neither of you fully understood what the priest was saying in his Akkadian language, but neither of you cared much earlier, returning to your seats to discuss your escape plan in subdued, hushed voices.

One major problem you had to contend with was the presence of the sick children. At first you wanted to bring them along, or at least the ones who were unjustly locked in the hospital, but Ahk reminded you that all the children lived in Rapiqum. You couldn't take a horde of children all the way down to Babylon and leave them there to suffer the strains of poverty, homelessness, and prejudice.

In that case, staying quiet was a necessity. That ruled out much of the brute-force method Ahkmen suggested, and instead you wondered if, by stacking everything you could find, you could reach the vents built into the roof to allow fresh air in. You were certainly small enough to fit, but Ahk was doubtful that he could.

"How would we get out if I can't fit, though?" He asked, leaning in. "If it doesn't work, then we have a massive pile of things that we need to put back, that could take a while."

You thought for a moment, your brow furrowed as you played with the skin of your chin.

"I have a think," you said slowly, "but we will be very fast to have this done right."

"Well we still have to get our bags. Can we do that in time?"

"... get rope and yes, we can do," you said with a growing, mischievous grin.

"Rope..." his eyes raced around the chamber, searching for anything resembling a long rope.

The door to Namluh's home––or at least his bedroom––swung open as the priest finished with the food and revelations, and fell shut behind his slow steps. It gave Ahkmen ample time to note the decorations in the priest's room, including a beautiful chart of pulleys, the system Rapiqum was now using to hydrate its' citizens. The essential tool. Examples of the system were displayed hanging around Namluh's room, as well, meaning that long, thick, and sturdy rope was much closer than either of you thought.

"No problem," he said, his eyes never leaving the swinging door as he tapped for your attention.

You peered over his tall shoulder, sounding a quiet 'oh,' as you caught sight of it, as well.

Light was already dim in the ceiling vents, as the sun set nearly all the way down over the mountains and plains. Neither of you could see the single, blazing piece of sun remaining, nor the orange and purple dusk that it soon left behind. Now only the incense at the altar burned, glowing like burning embers whose smoke still filled the room, settling low near the floor.

You and Ahk were still awake and obviously so, sat up against the wall with your sides pressed together. The other children slowly made their ways back to their beds, but many stayed awake unwillingly, wracked with coughs and ragged breaths. Conversation between you died off as you both became more preoccupied with scanning the beds, attempting to gauge who was asleep and who wasn't. But your hand creeped down between you, a touch that nearly had Ahk jumping, before his smallest finger linked with yours.

Soon, even the tolls of bells from outside were silenced, and all that existed was the hazy, black room, whose loneliness was broken only by coughs and sniffs. The hall wasn't that big, Ahk reasoned––the ceiling was technically less than twice his height, though only a little––but the overwhelming darkness hiding even his hands from view left him alone. A consciousness suddenly disconnected from its' body, and from reality.

You shifted closer to him and he immediately returned to kiss the top of your head.

"Soon," he murmured.

It must've taken hours for everyone to fall into their uneasy dreams, at which point you were both growing quite tired yourselves. But there was something important to be done, and despite your needs, sleep would be no friend of yours throughout the entirety of the coming night.

Ahkmen slipped his leather and reed sandals off, and the two of you finally stood, him barefoot and you with soft, fabric shoes. You padded down the middle of the room in silence, your slow steps allowing you to look at every child you passed. In the heat of dreams, some had tossed their blankets aside, and others were shivering. You almost paused with your breath caught in your throat, but Ahkmen was quick to pull you along.

The wooden door was rather short, now that you both stood in front of it. It was also locked, but that was only the third thing you noticed, the former being the first, and the second being it had a strange looking handle. Neither of you had ever seen one before.

"What..." you tried to say before Ahk's hand whipped up to your mouth.

He held his finger in front of his lips and you nodded.

While you tried to figure out how the lock and handle worked, Ahk stood guard near the altar, watching to make sure no one would wake up. Metal still rattled against itself no matter how careful you were, and every time it did both of you seized up.

A small click signalled the releasing lock, and Ahk hurried over to your side as you slowly opened the swinging door. It creaked for a half-second, stifling your breath till it opened the rest of the way silently, revealing the inside of Namluh's still-lit room.

Long, black shadows descended across the floor from a rushlight burning at Namluh's beside, where a small counter supported both the light and a wax statue wrapped in linen. His bed was little more than a wooden frame and a neck holder to keep his head up. Across the room from Namluh were bookcases, most of which were filled to the brim with scraps of incomprehensible papyrus and clay. Some shelves contained artifacts of worship and ingredients Ahkmen assumed to be for potions.

Rustling of sheets in the hospital sent you both jumping into the room, shutting the door as delicately and as quickly as you possibly could. Your backs pressed against it, heavy breaths filling your chests as you scanned the room, from the desk, to the bed, and the displays.

On the wall directly to the left of the door, buckets and one long, sturdy rope hung along the frame of an innovative concept. None of the notes and scribbles were written in any language either of you knew, but the illustrations sufficed in their explanations. Still, as nicely set up as the decorations were, your needs were more important, and the two of you picked the rope off the nails and into your eager hands.

You looked up with a wide grin, nearing a laugh you knew you couldn't lease. He chuckled silently as well, and with that you left, opening and closing the door with just as much care as ever.

"Now what?" He whispered beneath his breath, standing at the altar beside you with the heavy rope's weight shared between you.

"I must be on your shoulders," you whispered, looking up at him while he short-circuited.

"What?" He said after a moment of silence.

"I am on your shoulders!" You hissed in a whisper.

"Okay, okay," he said quickly, kneeling down.

You climbed up over the bend of his back, settling your thighs on his shoulders. He screwed up his face into a frown to avoid blushing or stuttering too profusely.

With the rope in hand, you set to figuring out the true distance between yourself and the air vents. You squinted, throwing up one flayed end of the rope that circled around the thick wall separating the different, horizontal vents from each other. When it caught, you pumped your fist with a massive grin before tapping for Ahkmen to let you down.

He knelt again and you climbed off. While you brushed your clothes of wrinkles, Ahkmen reached up on his tip toes, just barely grasping the other end of the rope to pull it down and equalize the sides. There was a special knot he was taught in the house of life––it made a loop that could be secured at the top of the rope by pulling on the other side, meaning you could easily climb the rope. That was what he assumed you wanted, at least––he'd feel rather silly if it wasn't.

Consequently, you began your first attempt of climbing the rope, restrained grunts of effort still sounding behind lips shut tight. He tried to help you up a little further, but he couldn't get you high enough to grasp the vents, so you couldn't make it. As you tried to reach forward, your grip on the rope slipped, and you fell with a muted gasp, landing with a fwhoosh in Ahkmen's open arms.

The two of you stared wide-eyed at each other as you waited for someone to stir, for someone to notice, but no one did. You both sighed in relief, returning to scaling the rope.

This time you kept your grip much tighter, your knuckles paling with the force of it, while your uncut nails dug into your palm. You ignored the feeling to the best of your ability and, using your knees and Ahk's help till you finally grasped the vent wall. Your other hand whipped up to stabilize yourself. The strain of lifting yourself up burned your tired muscles, but you managed it nonetheless and scrambled onto the roof of the hospital.

It took several minutes before Ahkmen followed after you, his head popping out of the vent but not much else.

"Told you it wouldn't fit," he muttered, feeling slightly safer to speak at a more comprehensible volume.

"Do not be a child, Ahkmen," you said with a quiet giggle. "That is my work."

"Yes, you're adorable, I get it," he grumbled as you scooted closer, digging into your pockets. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"No, I will leave you here, for all time," you said, banging a hammer against the dried mud building that began to shatter like shale.

The sound immediately echoed in the mostly vacant hospital, sending numbing shivers all throughout his kicking legs, attempting to find some sort of surface to push him through the vent.

"Yogi I swear to God –"

"Which God?" You said, grunting as you once more slammed down the hammer, breaking the vent further yet.

The missing stone allowed a much bigger entrance, through which Ahk pushed himself desperately through as the sound of footsteps sounded from far below the roof. You grabbed his arms, pulling as hard as you could till he popped out and you both tumbled down the slanted roof, the rough rock burning your cheek when you skidded against it. Even now neither of you dared to make a sound, and you drew blood trying to keep your mouth shut with your teeth.

When you didn't collide with the far off ground, you opened your eyes that had been screwed shut, only to find yourself dangling by a single hand. Your gaze darted up to see Ahk grasping your wrist tighter than a snake's coil, his teeth gritted and eyes burning as they watched you. A darkness overtook his iris––one that didn't fit the usual grey color.

You wound your fingers around his arm, and with that he pulled you up, aided by your kicking feet.

"Get the rope," you said, panting from the exertion. He nodded and rushed over, zipping up the long rope, the end of it disappearing into your grasp the moment the doors splintered open and guards burst through.

Ahkmen peered over the edge, revealing just his eyes that scanned the room below. There were only three men who'd come to check on the noise, and with the rope gone, there was little hint to what had happened. All of the children were in their beds, most of them passed out entirely. Ahk grinned as he slinked away from the vent.

"Smart little thing, aren't you?" He said, sitting down beside you and pinching your cheek. You pushed him away, giggling.

"You say it like I do not know."

Shouts from below signified the arrival of Namluh, who awoke from the clutter only when guards came to shake him from his bed. You both jumped to your feet, but you were quicker to cast the rope down to the earth, as the other end of it was still tethered to the vents and, with that resistance, could hold your weight as you climbed carefully down.

Ahk followed your example as soon as he could, landing both of you with a low puff of dirt around your feet.

You started off in a sprint up the city paths leading towards the temple. Much of your invisibility could be credited to the nighttime, as well as the shadows casted by city homes, making you no more than silhouettes to any passerbys. Still, you both attempted to muffle your heavy pants from running.

Once you made it through the wall borders and into the complex, you found that the front entrance to the temple was blocked off by a large, metal gate, the ends of which were made into pikes that pierced the earth below. There was obviously no fitting either of you through that, so you ran round to the other side to where you'd first entered the temple. The back door, never guarded or closed––mostly because it didn't have a door––had three steps that Ahkmen skipped over entirely. You scaled them with quick feet.

"Alright, where did we put the bags?" Ahkmen asked, his chest still keeping a heavy up and down as he looked around the room.

"I think.. when we had the cleans, we had them off," you said slowly, frowning as you tried to concentrate.

"Right," he said, chewing his lip before he set off again, you trailing behind as you entered the next room.

Somehow, it had gotten even harder to see; the weak light of stars and the moon partially illuminated the entrance room, but was, beyond that, useless. It took a minute or so, but eventually he could see the vague outlines of objects, including a closet that had the designs of Hathor on the edges.

"I can't believe those bastards got a hold of something from Egypt," he tsked, stopping to appreciate the handiwork.

"Shut up, Aganu," you said, and pulled him along.

Someone took your bags away from where you dropped them, making it several grueling, anxiety-filled minutes until you found them stacked in the corner, some of their flaps open and loose. You let out a gasp, falling to your knees as you set to finding your stock of potions. Ahk knelt down beside you.

"Everything there?" He asked, going over his own bags as well as looking over your shoulder.

"I think..," you mumbled as you dug into your belongings. "Sephys!"

"What?"

Ahk, who had only looked away momentarily, was abruptly returned to your shoulder to find Sephys still curled up and sleeping in one of your pack's pockets.

"Holy shit," Ahk said with wide eyes. "She was in there the whole time?"

"What, you want me asking her? I do not know, we must go now," you said, pulling the flap back over Sephys and hauling the bag onto your back. Ahkmen nearly laughed, but was pulled to his feet by his shirt before he could.

The straps weighed down on your shoulders once more, the bruising weight more of a comfort than it had ever been before. Tools and bits of metal, glass, and stone clanked against each other in your packs, making your steps much smaller and more calculated.

From the small hill upon which the temple had been built, and the descending sides that housed the rest of the city, you and Ahkmen could see to the edge of the city––which had really become more of a town in the past century––and the winding, tangled streets that led to the end of the buildings. One particular road led from round back of the temple complex out into the south, opposite from the city's main entrance sitting on the northwestern edge.

Ahk tapped your shoulder, silently directing your attention to the path. You nodded, and the two of you set out, ever remaining in the shadows.

Halfway to the end Sephys popped out from your bag. You nearly let out a call for her name, but Sephys appeared to follow your path anyway. Ahk shrugged and the three of you continued.

It appeared after a while that most everyone was busy searching the hospital or temple for what had made the noise. That was the conclusion Ahk decided to draw; whether or not it was right didn't matter. All that mattered was that the townspeople and the priest were preoccupied, and it was mere minutes until you'd be gone from the city. Surely they wouldn't chase after you. Actually, they might be happy to have you gone, since you were 'infected' in Rapiqum's eyes.

A bloom of warmth that the sun couldn't bring spread throughout his chest as the last of the homes disappeared, making way for an open desert and the river that flowed on the mud-soaked shores of the Euphrates. Reeds grew taller than even him, spreading out from the water to every crevice it could survive in.

The day had yet to come, but the two of you were up on the high of the chase, and thus greatly energized for the long walk you now resumed after the short intermission. You grinned when you met his eye by chance.

"No problem, yes?" You said with a quiet giggle.

"Say that once we get to Babylon," he said, turning from you to the path ahead. "Then we won't have any problems at all."

"Really?"

"I hope so," he said with a nod.

"We can stay, for a long time," you suggested.

"What do you mean by that?"

"We can... you can take your bath, I can see the city, you know. Stay for.. many days. Not for all time, but a good time," you said, glancing between the ground and him.

"... that'd be nice," he said, matching your smile.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

[misshottiebebe]

Pain that doesn’t make sense

Is it weird that I have a desire to get Covid? For real though, I know that I don’t want to lose my taste or smell. I don’t want have long Covid and end up in a wheel chair. I don’t want to crowd an ICU or have tubes down my throat. No no no. 

But I would take a head cold and a fever for 10 days off from work. 

I feel the Covid stress in my upper back, or I’m getting old. A pain behind my neck just above my shoulders. I feel the Covid stress in the crackling of my spine when I twist side to side. It is in my now, the stress, but not the Covid. 

I think I’ve always felt the need to feel validated in my pain with a real physical thing. Back in college, I developed severe anxiety. Looming adulthood, the understanding that writers don’t make money. I would have to sacrifice my happiness and joy for a shift at a video store. I was about to embark on a life of fighting for my art, and it was fucking terrifying. 

So instead of, you know, thinking about it and processing it, I threw myself into an emotionally abusive relationship. I was in pain and I knew why, whereas before, I was in pain and I didn’t know why. 

I love when pain makes sense. 

Getting Covid, light Covid preferably, would keep me in bed where I could be sad and stare at the ceiling until my madness feels validated. 

I’m losing it because I have Covid durrrr. I want to sleep all day because I have Covid uh-duh. I want to stay inside before I have to! (Quarantine)

We should all be working less and dealing with this collective trauma. Fridays should be for processing in our bathrobes. The world is grim, I would like to enjoy the shapes the sunshine makes on my walls in silence for a few hours every morning. Am I taking years off my life because I am being productive during a pandemic? 

Sheila Heti supports sick days for no reason in my favorite Letter of Recommendation in the New York Times:

Sick in bed is a time to let all the thoughts of the last few months, all your experiences and memories, float up in your head, up near the ceiling, which is wobbling with fever. It is a time to take stock of your life.

With masks on, I hadn’t had a common cold in years. Not since December 2018. I’m also a god. Unless I’m around children, I don’t get sick. But this last December by nephew tackled me and shoved his dirty hands in my mouth, so I got a delicious head cold right at the end of my winter break. With my two extra days post holidays, I sat on my couch, drank warm beverages, and watched all of Emily in Paris season two. I didn’t feel guilty about my laziness because I had to blow my nose a few times and my teeth hurt due to sinus congestion. 

But I am awarded over 500 hours of sick time every July. Approximately 67 days worth of sick time. Apart from the head cold, I’ve only used those days for a haircut, to visit New England for three days in December, to meet my partner’s brother in Tucson for the first time, and to have a shopping spree at Trader Joes and Target. Not sick time but vacation time, or I guess emotional support time. 

Growing up with Midwestern work values, AKA no work-life balance, will I ever not feel guilty for taking time to myself? 

I have three jobs: an office job, an adjunct job, and I do extra work for a grant. I’m exhausted. I could technically take one day off every week with the sick time I have, but will I feel judged by the folks in my office and will I feel judged by myself? 

I’m reading this book How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell. In it, she encourages us to be more useless. Useless. What a concept. I don’t think I’ve ever been useless in my life. I’ve always taken too much on. 3 jobs or projects plus writing. 

I think today I will be useless. I think today I will read a book at work. I think today I will take a walk. I think today I will sit in my dark office process this nonphysical pain. 

[quiteanabyss]

I have a thought for a request I wanted to send to you, since your requests are open. (OMG!!!)

It’s Charlie’s first Christmas without Henry and also your first Christmas the two of you are spending together. Instead of letting it get him down, he pours all his effort into making it beautiful and memorable for you. The first of many together. Thank you :)

Hi Anon!  Thank you very much for this sweet request, and I hope what I’ve written is to your liking. :)

If feeling sorry for oneself was an Olympic Sport, Charlie Barber would have several gold medals, and probably a world record, to his name.  He spent months, years, decades perfecting the art.  

If only ...

I wish ...

It isn’t fair ...

It’s actually quite embarrassing, how long it took him to figure out that yeah, life isn’t fair.  Bad things happen every day, to everyone, often for no apparent reason.  And dwelling on it just doesn’t help matters at all.

At the beginning of December, Nicole tells him that given the current global situation, she doesn’t feel comfortable with Henry travelling to New York for the holidays.  

Charlie opens his mouth to argue with her, and then closes it again, and counts to ten.  “You’re right,” he says, noting the surprised sort of splutter his ex makes on the other end of the line.  “I’ll mail his presents early, so you can set them aside for quarantine, and I’m sure we can arrange some kind of video call so I can watch him open them.”

Surprised by his compliance, Nicole doesn’t have very much to say after that, so the call ends quite quickly.  And then, Charlie finds himself alone in his apartment, with his thoughts.

If only ...

I wish ...

It isn’t fair ...

He’s spiralling, as usual.  Even though he knows this situation is far beyond what anyone can control.  Even though he knows that literally nothing can be done.  He’s going to drive himself mad thinking about it, unless he can find a distraction.

And then ... it hits him.

Perfect.

***

Nicole looks absolutely wrecked on the other end of the video call, which is hardly surprising since it’s 5 a.m. there.  Here in New York, it’s eight, and Charlie had a good seven hours sleep last night and is feeling very well rested.

Henry is in full hyperactive mode, jacked up on the magic of Christmas and the chocolate that Nicole allowed him to eat for breakfast.  At some point there will be a crash, and Charlie is rather glad he won’t be there to see it.  

Sooner rather than later, Henry becomes more interested in his toys than talking to Charlie (it only feels slightly personal), and he and Nicole chat for a while as they each make themselves a coffee on their respective sides of the country.  It’s nice, this peace that has fallen between them lately.  After the cold war of the divorce, the fact that they can talk not just civilly but as friends is something Charlie doesn’t think he’ll ever stop appreciating.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Nicole gripes, taking a long sip of coffee.  “I just want to go back to bed.”

“Not to be a dick,” says Charlie, who is definitely trying to be a dick.  “But I actually am going back to bed.”

“Oh I hate you,” she says, but it’s accompanied with a warm smile.  They wish each other a very Merry Christmas, and end the call.  

Charlie finishes prepping the roast, and puts it in the oven on low.  The vegetables can wait until later, he decides, but he does move the bottle of Veuve Clicquot to a higher shelf in the fridge as it isn’t quite chilled to his satisfaction.  He also double-checks the living room to make sure that the tree and the presents underneath it are still looking picture-perfect, which they are.

Finally, he prepares a second cup of coffee, and heads back to the bedroom where you are still sleeping, tired out after your seventh on-call shift in a row.  Tomorrow, you’ll be back at work again, caring so selflessly for others.  But today, he’s going to take care of you.

You stir when the mattress dips under his weight, letting out a cute little grumble and opening one eye.  “What time is it?” you whisper.

“Early,” he whispers back.  “There’s coffee if you want it, or you can go back to sleep.”

Your response is to make an indistinct sound, and pat the bed beside you.  Which he takes as an invitation to climb back in, gathering you in his arms as he does so, and enjoying how warm and pliant you feel while you are still drowsy.  He rubs one of his hands lazily up and down the length of your back, feeling you arch slightly into the touch.  Your cold nose presses against his jawline, making him smile.  It’s soon replaced by your lips.  A soft kiss.  Another.  And then a nip.

His smile widens.  Apparently you don’t want to go back to sleep.

***

Many hours later, you’re sprawled on the living room floor together.  Presents have been opened and admired, dinner has been eaten, and the entire bottle of champagne has been consumed.

You’re sitting next to him, but for some reason that’s much too far away, so Charlie coaxes you onto his lap.  He might be a little drunk, he thinks, to be acting so boldly.

“Thank you for a wonderful day,” you murmur, leaning in to press a sweet little kiss to the corner of his mouth.  “I can’t remember the last time I actually celebrated Christmas.  I’m either working, or sleeping.  I love my job, I do, but ... it sucks sometimes.  Especially right now.”  You look so sad, all of a sudden.

(If only ...

I wish ...

It isn’t fair ...)

That’s the thing, Charlie thinks.  Life isn’t fair.  The world isn’t fair right now.  He can’t see his son, you’re running yourself into the ground at work, and worse is happening to other people, so much worse that it doesn’t even bear thinking about.

But he can’t dwell on the things he can’t control, he just can’t.  It would only drive him mad, sooner or later.  So instead, he’s tried to focus on something he can.  Giving you the kind of day you needed and deserved.

“There will be no more of that,” he says, one hand settling on the back of your neck, and the other stroking the side of your face.  “I’m going to make sure you celebrate Christmas every year, sweetheart.”

The kiss that follows is one to be remembered.  Which is his exact intention, of course.

Because it’s not just a kiss.  It’s a promise.

#requests are now closed #anon #charlie barber x reader #tw: pandemic

[puffins-muffins]

Hi, please don’t judge me. 😬

Oh boy, okay. Middle-aged broad here using Tumblr for the first time. I just want a place to post my fanfic. I have no idea if I’m doing this correctly. I have no idea if this will be my only post or my only story. 

Many years ago I used to write *NSYNC fanfic, mostly Justin Timberlake centric stories, drabbles, ideas, etc. but just lost my motivation when life and my twenties got in the way.

Since we’re closing in on a year since lockdown started, I’ve re-discovered my passion for writing stories. I am currently in a Chris Evans rabbit hole downward spiral (mostly blaming quarantine & a Defending Jacob binge watch) so the first story I’ve written (since my awakening) is centered around him. 

It’s 99.9% fluff and .1% smut and I think there’s 1 language! word in there also. Edited to the best of my ability so sorry for any typos (I think this is referred to as beta’d?) 

Anyways, I hope anyone who comes across this likes it as much as I do. :) And if not, that’s okay too.

 Endlessly

The snowflakes fell gently on the snow covered ground. The sky was full of stars, brightly lighting up the night with the help of a full moon. The air was warm, but the slight wind cast a small chill to the already cold temperature. A tiny figure pushed a large ball of snow through the freshly fallen flakes, groaning in discomfort with every new push. She stopped to take a breath and looked behind her where he stood, an amused smile spread across his face. 

"Why aren't you pushing yours?" 

He shrugged casually, replying with a shrug and a smirk, "I got bored." 

"You got bored?!" 

"Is there an echo out here?" He cuffed his large glove covered hand around his ear. 

She looked up at him with wide eyes, "I've been pushing this big ball of snow for like...forty-five fucking minutes!! And you… you got bored?!" 

He pondered for a moment, then shrugged again. "Yeah, that sounds about right." He added with a nod, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement.

Sitting defeated in the snow, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted, "You're the worst snowman maker I've ever known." 

"Baby, you looked so cute pushing that huge ball of snow, and all the grunting you did made it much more enjoyable.” He quipped, wiggiling his eyebrows. “I just had to stop and watch." 

"You are no fun, Christopher!" She whined.   

"Awww!” He threw his head back in laughter, nearly hugging himself in the process. “Come on. Your cute ass is freezing." He held his hands out for her to grab onto and he pulled her up, planting a soft, warm kiss on her lips. She smiled against his mouth as his thick beard tickled her face. Their hands entwined as she placed a few more kisses on his slightly warmed lips.

She pulled away slowly, planning her next move very carefully, "You know what, Chris?" 

"What’s that Elle?" 

"I like you better in the snow." She pushed hard on his chest, sending him crashing into a pile of freshly fallen snow. His mouth hung open for a minute, a shocked expression written all over his face. Noelle was doubled over in laughter and it only took a moment before his look turned mischievous and she knew she was in trouble. Taking a big hand full of snow, Chris hurled it toward her squealing body, part of it covering her coat, the rest flooding down her back. 

Noelle shrieked, giggling as she wiggled around, "Oh my god!! That's so cold!! You suck so bad Evans!" 

Chris’ boisterous laugh echoed amongst the secluded air as he hopped up quickly before she could retaliate. Noelle tried to throw more snow at him but he ducked away quickly. Instead, he grabbed her waist from behind causing her to drop the handful of snow.

“Chris!!” She squealed. He twirled her in the air as they both laughed, despite the coldness that stung their faces. A few more twirls and spins, making them both dizzy, he gently put her down. Slightly out of breath, Chris chuckled, pushing loose strands of her hair off her face and stared into her hazel eyes. Noelle smiled shyly, as his gaze lingered a little longer than usual and the way he was looking at her sent butterflies all through her body. “What?” She blushed, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“You look so beautiful right now. These snowflakes in your hair. It’s really cute.” Chris’ arms immediately enveloped her small frame and he let out a soft exhale as warmth flooded his chest, his stomach flip-flopping as he felt her arms return his embrace. He kissed the top of her head, sighing at the joy he felt so deeply in his body, "I don't think I've ever been this happy." 

Looking into his electric blue eyes, she agreed with a nod.  "I'm freezing. Why don't we go inside so you can warm me up?" Noelle added with a wink and a nudge. 

Raising his eyebrow, Chris led her toward the cabin, "Girl, don't go putting any ideas in my head." 

"Chris…" She stopped him by tugging on his arm, her voice was quiet. He turned his body around, his face showing signs of confusion. 

Until now, if he was thinking correctly at what she was suggesting, they hadn't been intimate with each other. Besides many make-out "marathons" as she liked to call them, most of their time together had been PG-13.  This was new territory for both of them, Noelle had spent a long time healing from her previous relationship.  Chris had been incredibly patient with her. In fact, this relationship was something of innocence for him, something he hadn't had with any woman in years. For Noelle, it had become a learning experience. Being with Chris taught her things about herself she never knew before, especially things about her body. He made her feel beautiful, strong, and sexy.  

This man standing in front of her was what she wanted, what she needed. She ached for him so badly. 

Standing on her tiptoes, her mouth made its way directly over his ear, "I want you to make love to me, Chris." She declared to him in a calm tone, although her body was shaking. Unsure if this was her nerves or the freezing temperature. 

Noelle stood at the edge of the bed, watching with a stare, as his naked body walked towards her. It was as if he had plotted every move in his head, and made sure to cover every step planned. As soon as her bare skin hit the sheets she knew her body would give in completely. It was time for him to show her, to leave her helpless to his touch.

He started slowly as his hands caressed every part of her body. His mouth left trails of wet kisses from her neck to her chest, over her perky, pink nipples, down to her stomach. He paused for a single second to swirl his tongue around her belly button before continuing his descent down to her inner thigh. Chris could feel the heat radiating from her most private of areas and he smirked to himself before he flicked his tongue out across her other thigh. She moaned at this, gripping the bed sheets to gather some control. His mouth teasingly made its way back to her swollen lips and he kissed her with such urgency. Neither one of them had ever felt this together, it was electrifying and they couldn’t get enough. When they finally parted their lips, they were completely out of breath. She looked into his eyes and could see the concern written on his face, even though he tried to hide it. His eyes scanned every inch of her face as he gently pushed the hair off of her forehead.

Her hands instinctively cupped his face, "I want you." She stated firmly, although hardly audible above her own heart pounding in her ears. 

He looked at her, unmoved except for the uncontrolled rise and fall of his chest. "Are you sure?" She smiled at him, shaking her head as a response, reassuring the feelings that flooded his body. 

Chris rocked his hips in motion with hers, his skin hot and silky as he pushed deeper inside of her. Noelle's mouth nibbled and bit on his shoulders and neck. Her whispered moans were lost in his mind until he heard his name slip from her mouth, then he began to lose control. His hands caressed and stroked her sticky breasts while she gripped harshly at his back. The only thing that existed at that moment was them. Their sweat-covered bodies moved rhythmically together in a room lit by a warm fireplace, cascading the two with a warm orange glow of passion and heat.  

Noelle's light sleep was disturbed as Chris's arm wrapped around her bare skin. She felt him bury his head in the crook of her neck and place two warm kisses one on top of the other, simultaneously pulling her even closer to his naked body. The thought of their night together planted a smile on her face. The feel of his fingers stroking her stomach caused a rush of butterflies to surge through her stomach all the way to her heart.  She turned to face him, "Good morning." She said softly, stroking his beard with her hand. 

"Mornin'." He replied smoothly, licking his lips and smiling a smile that matched hers perfectly. “Man, I kind of feel like a teenager again after that.” He let out a soft chuckle. 

She rolled her eyes and yawned, turning back over so that the pair were in a spooning position, "You’re so silly.” She let out a big yawn, “I'm still sleepy."  She snuggled herself into Chris’ body. 

As she drifted to sleep, she felt a kiss on her temple and faintly heard his voice whisper in her ear, "I'm in love." 

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans story #my first attempt #please be kind #fuck it here we go

[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.

#nct-writers #hendery fic #hendery imagines #hendery angst #hendery fluff #hendery x reader #hendery au #hendery blurb #hendery scenarios #wong kunhang fic #wong kunhang imagines #wong kunhang angst #wong kunhang au #wong kunhang blurb #wong kunhang scenarios #wong kunhang x reader #nct au #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct angst #wayv au #wayv imagines #wayv x reader #wayv angst #wayv scenarios

[sage-nebula]

Because where I work is considered essential (and because IT in particular is considered essential, and I work in IT), I’ve already received both doses of the Covid-19 vaccine. I thought I would share my experiences with the vaccine here in case anyone wants to hear about it from a regular person on a personal blog rather than a big media outlet or other professional source.

TL;DR: Get the vaccine, please get the vaccine, it is worth it. 

Longer version:

As you may or may not know, I am a hermit, so I’m basically in my house any time when I’m not forced to be out of my house, meaning quarantine didn’t really disrupt my normal life at all. In fact, it let me work from home which I considered to be an improvement. I bring this up because it means that at no point did I ever get Covid. What this means is that when it came to the first round of the vaccine, here’s what happened:

1st Round Side-Effects: None! Aside from the standard sore arm at injection point.

My body had never seen Covid before, so it didn’t know what to expect and had no reaction at first except for, well, something along the lines of this:

Vaccine: [arrives with Covid protein] Immune System: “Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that you brought that in here. I’m going to make preparations so you can’t do that again.”

So then a couple weeks passed and I got the second vaccine. When I got the second vaccine, the nurse who gave me the shot pointed to a free sheet I could take that listed all the side-effects to expect, as well as a sticker (similar to an “I Voted” sticker, but this time it’s an “I Got the Covid-19 Vaccine” sticker). I took the sticker but left the informational sheet, because I didn’t have side-effects the first time and figured that I wouldn’t have any the second time.

This was a mistake.

Because you see, this time my body recognized the Covid protein, and so the response was basically:

Vaccine: [arrives with Covid protein] Immune System: “I think the fuck NOT you trick-ass bitch!! Get the FUCK out of my house this goddamn INSTANT, I am firing up the BAZOOKAS, you are NOT WELCOME HERE!!”

And as a result, I have experienced the following side-effects:

— Body Aches: General muscle pain, which I have all the time anyway, but also random stabbing pains all over my body. These were sharp enough to wake me up from sleep yesterday morning.

— Headache: Honestly I have nearly daily headaches anyway due to a car accident I had like a decade ago (apparently this kind of trauma stays with you), but it’s been more pronounced as through my entire head than normal, plus with the addition of the aforementioned spiky pains up there. 

— Nausea: The nausea also woke up at like 6am yesterday, and I took some Pepto Bismol to try to get rid of it, but it didn’t work. The nausea persisted along with the pain.

— Vomiting: I threw up once at 8am yesterday as a result of the aforementioned nausea. Thankfully I have not experienced either nausea or vomiting since. However, that may be because . . .

— Loss of Appetite: I haven’t wanted to eat anything since yesterday! I’ve tried, oh how I’ve tried. Yesterday I had half a cup of chicken noodle soup and two pieces of sourdough bread with butter on them. Today so far I’ve had half a cup of broccoli cheddar soup with two pieces of sourdough bread dipped in. I’m also now having a milkshake to try to get some calories in me. It’s been a struggle.

— Allodynia: This might be more of a “me” thing than a side-effect thing because I don’t see this listed with normal Covid-19 vaccine side-effects, BUT it happens when I get sick. Essentially, since yesterday morning my skin has been very painful to the touch. On my scalp especially, but also down my arms, legs, chest, back — you name it, it hurts when I touch it, like having a bad sunburn or millions of papercuts all over my body. Sucks, man.

— Fever + Chills: I’ve had a fever, and as a result I’ve had chills! Ever wonder what it’s like waking up under a fleece weighted blanket, drenched in sweat but also still cold? It’s not fun. Don’t recommend it. (But my solution was still to put on heavier clothes and get under the blanket to sleep some more . . . I mean I wasn’t cold the next time I woke up but I don’t know if this was the smart solution.)

— Extreme Fatigue: Speaks for itself.

Yesterday was definitely worse than today. (For reference, I got the vaccine on Thursday, yesterday was Friday, today is Saturday. So this is Day 2.) Yesterday I was operating at 10% capacity at my best. Most of the day it was like 3% - 5%. Today it’s more like 40% - 50%. Definitely much better, but I still feel sick. I don’t count it as a real illness because I don’t actually have the Covid-19 virus in my body. It’s more that there’s a protein or something specific to Covid-19 that’s in the vaccine, and my immune system recognized it and decided to launch into ass-kicking mode. Unfortunately, the way the human body’s immune system works is that it doesn’t just 1v1 the virus. Instead it’s like, you know how people joke that they’re going to burn the house down to get rid of the spider when they find a spider in the living room? That’s what the immune system does. The immune system doesn’t grab a newspaper to smash the virus, the immune system sets fire to the body to kill the virus, and that’s what a fever is. And it sucks for all involved, but ultimately it’s worth it as long as you don’t die first. (Which is always a risk, but the immune system doesn’t care about that. The immune system just wants the spider / virus gone.) 

Anyway, I write all of this out so that you can a.) know what to be prepared for and stock up accordingly, and b.) know that it’s still NOWHERE NEAR AS BAD as actually getting Covid-19. My best friend got Covid-19, and she was hospitalized and on oxygen for a week. She had cognitive issues, like memory problems, for longer. She is still sneezing up blood clots from what the oxygen did to her, among other things. And she’s one of the lucky ones. The side-effects remind me of when I got the flu back in 2018, except still not as bad because I’m getting over them much, much more quickly than I did the flu. However much these side effects suck, I’ve been managing them with the following:

— Gatorade: I’m one of those people that doesn’t like drinking water because it’s bland, so I had a Postmate bring me three big bottles of Glacier Freeze Gatorade and I’ve been chugging them. Gatorade is basically flavored sugar water so it replenishes your electrolytes and gets you hydrated. Is it as healthy as water? Due to the high sugar content, probably not. Does that matter when you’re at risk of dehydration because you’ve puked and are sweating out a fever? Nope! I’ve drank Gatorade whenever I get sick / dehydrated ever since childhood because my pediatrician recommended it to me back then. If you don’t like water, stock up on this in preparation.

— Advil: I always have Advil on hand because as I mentioned before, I get near daily headaches regardless. But Advil has helped not only with the muscle pains, but also with the fever reduction and the allodynia. These things have all come back when the Advil wears off, but it helps in the meantime. Other medicines, like Tylenol, can probably help too. 

— Sleep: I had to work yesterday (from home), but any time I wasn’t answering an email or on the phone I was dozing off. When I ended my shift at 5:30pm I slept until 2am. I woke up long enough to drink some more Gatorade, take some more Advil, and let my dog out, and then I went back to sleep until 12:30pm. I think this is why I feel so much better tbh. Sleep is very healing. If you’re an adult who works, plan to take time off after your second vaccination if you can. You will thank yourself for it.

I did these same things when I had the flu, but it still took me two weeks to get to where I am now in two days. The second vaccine hits hard because your immune system takes things from 0 to 100, but it’s still not as bad as an actual virus, and definitely not as bad as being in the hospital on oxygen or, god help you, a ventilator. (Because my next-door neighbor, who was a nurse, told me that by the time you’re on a ventilator you only have a 30% chance of surviving. So you really do not want to get to that point.)

All in all, please get the vaccine. Yes, the side-effects suck. Trust me, I know! I couldn’t even really read an email yesterday because my brain kept fuzzing out over it. I went back to sleep at 2am because my eyes hurt too much looking at anything, so lying in the dark felt better. But I’m sure that in another day or two I’ll be back up at 100%. And in two weeks I’ll be fully protected. And that is so, so much better than being in the hospital on a ventilator.

So please, please, please get the vaccine when you can. For yourself, and for those who are immunocompromised who can’t. Stock up on Gatorade and painkillers / fever reducers and get the vaccine. It’s worth it. 

#covid 19 #covid-19 #don't clown on this or i'll block you i won't hesitate bitch

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

together | ho x fem!reader

@allegra-soleil​ asked: Chérie, ma belle, that last blurb BROKE ME. Can I have something similar but with Haz? Cuz we both know he is more hot tempered, and would probably make things worse before making them better, yelling and crying later when he realizes he really fucked up💔 Maybe he was the jealous one? Feeling left out by your sudden friendship with Tom? Mercy, baba. Je t'adore💖💖💖

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST including language/swearing, harsh arguments, screaming, cries, insecurities, anxiety, lots of emotions tbh BUT FLUFF at the end because we want happy endings in this house, dammit!

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: ALLIE. MY GORGEOUS ALLIE 💞 your request turned into an oneshot because, well, inspiration i guess? 😂🙄🙊 so this one is for you bae, an angsty as hell but with that fluffy ending we all want 🥰🥰🥰 love you girl and as always, stay safe sweetheart 💖💗

‘Stay safe, Cheer up’ blurb event  

masterlist | taglist | your support

Despite whatever people say, no human on Earth could escape the reality of how feelings work. No human was perfect, that was for sure. Not even Harrison. And now, the boy was massively experiencing jealousy at its best. Or maybe at its worse.

Which actually lead to now, when you tried to catch up your blond boyfriend as he stomped towards his bedroom, at Tom’s house.

“What was that just now?” you yelped as you were now both in the bedroom, Harrison facing away from you and not a single word addressed since what happened just before.

“What?” Harrison said with a harsh tone.

“The way you just addressed both Tom and I a minute ago, acting like a complete douchebag. Care to explain?” you asked again, slight irritation now audible in your voice.

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your private time with Tom!” scoffed Harrison while turning towards you, and your eyes widened at what you were looking at.

The face of your boyfriend displayed a look of mixed emotions you never knew was possible; anger, disgust, sarcasm and pure jealousy. His whole body screamed tension but the worst part must have been his voice, each word accentuated by the fakest playful tone of all time.

And that vision was almost scaring you.

“What are you saying, Haz?” you demanded with clear and proper authority, the need to know what was going on in your boyfriend’s mind being your main goal at the moment.

“What am I saying, you’re asking!?” Harrison sneered at you, “I’m just noticing that my own girlfriend looks like she’s having the blast of her life with my freaking best friend ever since we started the quarantine, is what I’m saying!”

Harrison’s voice got louder as the sentence kept going, each word heavy enough to weight more and more upon yourself.

“Are you joking right now?”

Now you were expecting anything, but that.

“I’m just by myself mostly all the fucking time like I don’t even exist in this house! But don’t mind me, really, it’s not like I’m your damn boyfriend in the story! So don’t waste your precious time with somebody like me and just go back to your dear Tommy to laugh and be lovey-dovey like two stupid kids!!”

“Are you out of your mind or what?!” you retorted before Harrison had the chance to continue, your ears still not believing what you just heard.

“If you wanted to go out with Tom Holland himself, you should have said no to me in the first place, instead of using me all this time to get closer to him-”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Harrison?!” you shot, you voice getting as loud as Harrison’s one.

The back and forth argument kept getting worse, you two now becoming entire messes as both your faces were reddening at the same time your words got louder.

The scene definitely drew the attention of the other residents of the house, the first one being Tuwaine as the man was passing by and just stopped at the doorframe, not believing what was actually happening. Soon Harry followed, the screams loud enough to wake up the deaths or the neighbours next door, or even the entire neighbourhood.

“Oi guys, what’s up in there?”

And obviously, the next and last person to arrive was Tom.

“Why the fuck are you all screami-”

Just then, you simply exploded like a grenade that waited and took too much already on yourself. Your voice was screaming of anger now, but also distress and sadness, the rage definitely showing now from head to toes that you shocked all four boys, Harrison included.

“FUCK YOU HARRISON! JUST- FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUCKING DAMN ATTITUDE!” you raged and kept going in one breath, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I DID TO DESERVE BEING TREATED LIKE A- LIKE A TOTAL SLUT BUT IF Y-YOU CAN’T TRUST ME ENOUGH OR EVEN BELIEVE IN THE LOVE I FEEL TOWARDS YOU, I-I JUST- AT LEAST FREAKING TALK TO ME BEFORE ACTING LIKE A FUCKING TOSSER Y-YOU DAMN BASTARD!!!”

That was it. You lost it, all your usual nice and sweet composure just vanished in a snap. But you felt hurt, badly hurt like you never once thought you would be that your feelings just washed over you that you had to scream as loud as possible.

You never had that kind of harsh arguments with Harrison, even knowing the boy was sometimes short tempered but right now, everything he said to you still resonated in your head. Every words. All of them. Even the degrading ones. Each of them were said with pure and bad jealousy, something you couldn’t imagine coming from Harrison.

In the end, even him was capable of hurting people.

Your face was now a red mess, your entire body tensed but at the same time shaking, and your eyes full or tears that soon started rolling down your cheeks when you finished screaming to his face.

Then a cold, tensed and awkward silence settled in the room. No one dared to say a word. And after a loud sob escaped your lips, you ran outside the room, not even glancing once more at the blond guy in front of you, nor at the other boys as you made your way past them. Your cries echoed in the hallway as you then barged inside the “office” room, slamming the door behind you with such violence it made everyone jump, locking it right after. Finally alone in your own despair, you slid your back down the door and sat against it, the back of your head slightly bumping onto the wooden door as you now let out your sobs openly.

“The actual fuck was that just now?!” Harry finally dared to speak, snapping out after what he just saw and heard. “Did you literally accused (Y/N) of cheating on you?!”

“Were you out of your mind to be rude to her like that?!” Tuwaine added, dumbfounded by all the argument.

Harrison was not moving, not a single inch. He was like petrified on the spot, now standing alone in his bedroom as his friends were still staying outside of it. But compared to a few minutes ago, his face now lost all colour, being as pale as if he saw a ghost.

He was completely shocked at himself.

“Mate” Tom addressed his friend, the tone of his voice calm even after being badmouthed by his own best friend, the one who just stood there like a lonely and wandering soul.

Not really expecting an answer from Harrison, Tom slowly walked inside the room, to then stand in front of his blond friend.

“That’s totally normal to get jealous, you know?” Tom began in his most understanding and serious voice, “But jeez, (Y/N) is like a sister to me! Never would I see her more than that!”

Tom’s words were making their way though Harrison’s brain, but the lack of reaction from him was getting really worrying.

“But mostly, I’d NEVER betray my best friend! Never, you hear me Harrison?” Tom insisted firmly. “And just now, you completely misunderstood everything and hurt (Y/N). And yourself.”

And at that moment, Harrison felt like the entire universe fell on top of his head. For good. He finally realised he badly fucked up.

* * * *

It’s been four days since the argument. The four longest and tougher days of Harrison’s life.

Since then, you’ve closed yourself into the office room, not wanting to be near or see your boyfriend after everything he said to you. You ate there, slept there and cried there. You just locked yourself in, as if wishing for everyone to forget you were even there. But that was impossible for Harrison.

When Tom somehow brought back his friend to himself, after being completely out of his mind like he never did, Harrison panicked and just wanted to rush back to you. Tom, Harry and (mostly) Tuwaine could hold him back, even when he started screaming your name for you to forgive him, pure agony in both his voice and written on his face.

After, Harrison was like an undead. His usual shining blue eyes were no more, but replaced by empty one, completely dull and lost into nothingness. His body was even too heavy for him to stand properly, as if everything he told you came back to him to just put the blame on him and only him, the guilt heavier like an entire building. He even lost his appetite and his sleep, not finding any purpose to any matter while being away from you after what he did. What he made you endure.

You didn’t want to see him anymore, and just kept ignoring him while he stood on the other side of the door for hours, pleading for you to open and talk about it together. Nothing. You never replied. If you ever needed something, you would simply ask to Tom, Harry or Tuwaine by text. But never Harrison. Never. And Tom would have to drag his friend away from the door as he would just start crying, desperately trying to open it or even bang his forehead on it on total despair.

That situation weighted on everybody else, too. The once joyful house became a pure living hell of agony, the air thick with tension all around. Being under lockdown for so long was already a pain in general, so nobody needed that kind of additional stress to make it worse.

It had to stop, but not any which way.

On the sixth day, Tom was cooking some lunch while Harry and Tuwaine were in the backyard, enjoying the beautiful weather that London was offering them. And Harrison was at the exact same spot he occupied since the incident, slumped onto the couch, head thrown on the back to fix the ceiling for hours.

“Hey, Harrison.”

The blond lightly glanced at Tom, his body not moving, as the brunette stood next to the couch with a tray in his hands.

“Do you want to bring this to (Y/N)?” asked Tom to his friend.

Harrison’s head slowly turned towards him at the sound of your name.

“She doesn’t want to see me anymore” whispered Harrison almost inaudibly, his eyes red and puffy after so many sleepless nights spent with cries.

“If you just force yourself into her like you did the past days, like a mad man, for sure she’ll just keep ignoring you...” sighed Tom, trying not to sound so done with his friend during that tough path he was going through. “Man up, be yourself and go.”

Still hesitant, Harrison looked between Tom and the tray in his hands a few times, before slowly sitting down properly on the couch. Tom nodded at him to encourage him a bit and after what seemed like the biggest effort of his life, Harrison finally stood on his own two feet, now facing Tom.    

“Come on and make up properly, idiot” ironically chuckled Tom, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

He held once again the tray out for Harrison to take, insisting. Gulping, the blond boy lifted his arms to soon grab the tray, hands still slightly trembling. Tom waited for his friend to calm down, knowing perfectly his mind was just a complete mess at the moment as so many scenarios of what was about to happen kept playing on and on, each of them at the same time.

Once he emptied his mind from the negativity invading him, Harrison took a deep breath in before holding the tray properly by himself. Tom gently patted his shoulder, another supporting move of his and moved aside to let his friend walk past him.

His steps were as light as a feather, not wanting to make too much noise on his way to the office room. Harrison’s heart was beating like crazy, each beat almost wanting to break through his ribs, the pain almost unbearable.

But there was no coming back. Not anymore. Harrison was so scared to mess everything up again, like he did when he started an argument that was not even supposed to exist. But he brought it up, like the dumbass he was sometimes. And now, he had to made up for all the abominations he said to you. So yes, Harrison was scared and even worse... he was scared to loose you.

Without realising it, the blond boy was now standing in front of the wooden door. That door that could be the epitome of your heart right now, completely closed and unknown to him, acting like a barrier to protect you from more sadness you may not be able to handle anymore. But Harrison had to make the first step to you because he was the one who caused all this.

He had to fix his mistakes, once for all and good.

“... (Y/N)?” the boy called in what sounded more like a whisper.

He clicked his tongue, sure you didn’t even hear him. After glancing at the living room and noticing Tom had left to join the boys outside, Harrison cleared his voice and tried again.

“(Y/N)... It’s... it’s me.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, you were curled up onto the couch that became your bed for almost a week. Your lack of sleep was beyond your own understanding, as not even a single one of your college projects managed to keep you awake at night. Your body has been aching and heavy, the simple fact of rolling over being painful to you. And the painkillers did nothing to your constant headaches that kept coming and going whenever they wanted. You were sad, hurt and now tired.

But out of nowhere, you caught a faint voice coming from the door. At first you were not really sure as your mind was rambling all over the place, but then you heard it again, and a bit clearer. That familiar voice you knew too well, that particular one you were trying to avoid at all cost since the argument.

Harrison.

Hearing it now awakened all your senses again, against your own will but you preferred to stay quiet, bringing your knees closer to your chest and hoping he would just go away.

“Please, (Y/N)... I-I’ve brought your lunch...”

You gulped, hiding your face into your knees. His once energetic voice was no more, sounding now more morose and... hurt. And somehow, it still saddened you a bit. The silence invaded the place again. Now you felt torn between two rather difficult choices: still ignoring him because the hurtful words he screamed at you that day were the cause of your sleepless nights, or... maybe confront him and see how it goes. Maybe.

“Fuck, what did I expect really... Of course you’re still angry at me, and you have all the rights to be” Harrison murmured along with a sigh.

Lowering his head, Harrison’s eyes fell on the lunch tray Tom kindly prepared to you and mindlessly inspected it. The smell was mouthwatering and the steak sure looked delicious, but Harrison couldn’t help but note you always liked your meat less cooked and with a lot of oregano. And regarding the sides, the boy was pretty sure you would leave the cucumber slices of the salad, as you liked more carrots instead.

All these little things, even the most insignificant ones, were part of your being. And Harrison learnt to know all of them by heart, and to cherish them. And so did you, ever since you started dating. The specific tea he loved to drink depending on how he was feeling, the vegetables he couldn’t look at - even after you desperately tried to cook them in many different ways -, what to do when he was feeling tired and grumpy, the movie he could binge-watch all the time, and so on...

Harrison loved you as much as you loved him.

And he had to fucked this up like a bastard to finally realise he just imagined the stupidest things ever, and hurt you in the end.

“... I’m the fuckin’ worst.”

As any chance of this door opening vanished into thin air, Harrison loudly sighed, badly depressed but still trying his best to contain his tears a bit more, and put the lunch tray down at the door to then walked away.

But after only taking two steps, two click sounds suddenly reached his ears which made him stop on his track, turning quite fast towards the door to see it... slightly opening. And that was when Harrison caught sight of you and his body froze, eyes wide open.

Through the half-open door, you were there, your entire frame partially visible but still. He was finally able to see you and notice how fragile you looked. Facial features slimmed down, dark circles and red eyes. You were a mess, just like Harrison was during the past few days. After what seems like hours of total silence, both your eyes finally met, hesitant at first but then, you slowly opened the bedroom door a bit more. The heart of Harrison started beating all over again, his lungs working fully as if he learnt once more how to breath.

“... Harrison.”

Oh, your voice. Hearing it after so long brought shivers down his spine.

“(Y-Y/N)... I-”

But words got suddenly mixed up in his mind as Harrison wanted to tell you so many things at the same time. How much he was sorry, how much of an idiot he was, how much he regretted, how much... he missed you. So much. But then, he remembered Tom’s advices.

“If you just force yourself into her... like a mad man... she’ll just keep ignoring you...”

Harrison had to think calmly, but most importantly wisely. So he decided to stay quiet waiting for you to speak first, if you ever did.

You’ve never seen Harrison this tense like he actually was. Never this... all over the place. Hair sticking in every directions, his stubble more visible than ever and baggy clothes. Well, you were pretty much the same anyway. But what saddened you more was the look in his eyes. His ocean eyes you loved getting lost into turned into two empty orbs, dull, deprived of any joy but tears, now.

“... We need to talk” you muttered in a low tone, your hand grabbing the door harder to get you some extra support, you hoped.

As you slowly lowered your body to take the tray off the floor, Harrison got quicker and grabbed it before you. This brought you two face to face, crouching with only the space of the tray between you, eyes locking for some seconds. No word spoken but only looks, and that was a lot.

You averted your eyes at the same time before getting up again, a bit awkwardly. Harrison followed you inside the office room while you closed the door right after him. Not paying too much attention at the mess around, he went to place the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch and stood there, not knowing what to do or if he could talk. Silently, you advanced to then sit on the said couch, pushing away the blankets and pillows you used to sleep on the side. You patted a few time the space next to you while looking at Harrison or, at least, trying to draw his attention as the boy was looking anywhere but at you, fidgeting with his fingers like a child who just did something stupid.

Well, maybe that was the case, actually.

Finally, Harrison heard the muffled sound of your hand against the couch and, after looking at you like he wanted your approval, slowly but surely walked and sat next to you. He brushed his thighs a few times, feeling his muscles stiff but still trembling. His heartbeat kept pounding on inside his chest, one foot slightly tapping in rhythm on the carpet. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to remain calm. But Harrison knew he had to speak first. After all, everything was his own fault.

“(Y/N), listen I’m-”

“I’m sorry...”

Harrison stopped and looked at you, mouth still open as he was not sure if he heard right. Now frowning, he noticed your head dropped as you were desperately fixing your knees, the grips of your hands on your sweatpants making your knuckles slightly turn white.

“I’m sorry, Harrison” you repeated once again, your voice trembling and just above a whisper. “I-I shouldn’t have insulting you l-like I did. You deserved it b-but I said such horrible things to you, instead of talking about it with you... I-I’m an idiot, I should have-”

“W-Wait (Y/N), what are you saying? I’m the one who has to apologise to you, not the other way around!” retorted Harrison, quite shocked and confused by your words.

“But I just got things worse, Harrison! A-And in the end, we were just screaming at each other a-and I-I-”

Your body started shaking again, your throat tightening as more words wanted to go out, soon followed by sobs. Your breathing became halting and tears were forming at the outside corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop any of this as guilt kept growing inside of you during these days.

Harrison couldn’t handle seeing you like this anymore, nor hearing accusing yourself for what happened to you both. That was impossible, and it had to make it stop. He had to make you understand that any of this was not your fault. He had to comfort you as much as you needed to be.

So the boy slid from the couch, both knees on the carpet as he was now facing you. He pressed his torso against your knees, trying to be as close as possible to you, and put his hands on your thighs. The touch brought you out of your inner upheaval and your teary eyes met again.

“Listen, (Y/N)” began Harrison, gulping, “I’m the one who started all this mess whereas nothing of this would have happened, okay? I-I’m the stupid one here, the selfish one, the... jealous one who imagined horrible things because I got... I got insecure and lonely. I shut myself away enough to awaken the worst side in me. And like a complete asshole I accused you of... of cheating on me. You, the person I love the most and that loves me so much in return. The person I trust with all my heart. I just- I fucked up so bad a-and-”

Harrison didn’t notice the tears already rolling down his cheeks until now.

“I-I’m just the worst boyfriend- no, the worst human being ever-”

But then, your trembling but soft hands gently raised to wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs making him stop spouting any more gibberish about himself. And it was like your touch instantly appeased him, like the best medicine that could exist and just closed his eyes, his breathing slowly calming down.

By instinct, his bigger hands raised to gently rest on top of yours and just leaned his face on your palms, appreciating the skin contact he missed since then. God did he miss your touch.

You both sniffled, forehead resting against each other as you leaned more towards the blond boy. The tears kept going for some time actually, neither of you really knowing for how long. But that was needed.

After some time spent in a rather calm silence, you parted from each other and you gently brushed your boyfriend’s wet cheeks with your thumbs again, a comforting smile now on your face.

“I think... we both messed up” you gently whispered.

A light smile appeared on Harrison’s face, the left corner slightly raising more like it always did when he was getting shy or embarrassed... or comforted.

“We did” replied the blond, a soft chuckle barely audible, “... well, mostly me.”

“Never hesitate to talk to me, alright Harrison?” you stated quite seriously but still with that kind tone of yours your boyfriend loved so much. “Even for stupid matters, I don’t care, just let’s talk about it. Promise?”

“I promise, love.”

You shared another smile, rosy cheeks and eyes still shining with the last few tears. But now, the atmosphere felt way lighter as any ounce of negativity washed away around you both. You kept the eye contact and your hands connected, a way to slowly treat that deep link between you both.

Then you gently brought Harrison’s face closer to you and left a light kiss on his forehead, the kiss lasting for a few seconds but Harrison made the most of it, his eyes closing again which let the last tears roll on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, love” Harrison whispered like he was in trance.

“I know, dear. I know. But we will go through it. Together.”

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[sparkleofpizza]

The archer - Tim Drake x reader 7/?

A/n: I am back, finally. I can't believe how long it took for me to write this when it is mostly a filler part for what's coming next, but quarantine got me and I spent a very long time without feeling like writing, then I hurt my wrist and I couldn't type. But, hopefully, now I will be able to keep on writing again.

Requested: no

Warnings: smut mention 

Taglist: @isthataladybag @the-fandom-ness @takoyakkun @caswinchester2000 @malfoys-demigod @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @ijustwannabecanadian

Summary: Y/n Queen will be living in the Wayne Manor for a while, and Dick Grayson decided to be the cupid between her and his little brother Tim Drake

Word count: 2.9k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

The apartment was really quiet. In all honest, you don't think you've ever seen Oliver this quiet before, specially when you told him something important. Specially after you had ghosted him for nearly two days. You expected him to lecture you about safety, or to argue with you, not sit there, in silence.

You had asked him to come over to Tim's safe house, you didn't trust to have this kind of conversation with him at the manor - thinking you two would yell at each other. But there you were, sitting at the sofa, staring at your brother who sat across from you. The only sound present was the dishwasher working on the kitchen, Tim was out for patrol, so there was just the two of you there.

"Do you understand now, why I have to treat her like a villain?" Oliver asked, breaking the silence 

"Yes, but I don't think you should. It's mom, Oliver."

"And yet she wanted you to become an assassin!"

Yes, he was right, she wanted you to become an assassin. But there must be an explanation for all of this, your mom couldn't just have become one of the bad guys! That meant so many things in your life was a lie, and you weren't ready to face it. It was too much happening all at once. 

"I don't..." you shook your head "I don't want to give up on her just yet. Look how Emiko turned out?"

Oliver nodded, sighing in frustration.

"I know, y/n. But I don't want us to let our emotions get in the way if we have to stop her, we need to be prepared for the worst scenario."

Again, you knew he was right. You knew this was all too good to be truth, mom alive and hoping that everything would go back to the way it was, being a family.

You nodded your head, heaving a sight.

“So what are we going to do?”

“We’ll come up with a plan and we will get her, then after that, after... talking to her, we will decide what will happen.”

What a family reunion this is going to be.

“I can be the bait.” You suggested

Oliver glared at you and then at Dinah who had slightly moved her head in agreement.

“No. No one is being used as bait.”

You were all reunited at the batcave, Bruce had said you could use it for as long as you need and that they would help you with anything necessary.

Dinah, Emiko, Felicity and Diggle had came from Star City to discuss strategy and what to do from now on. Everyone staying at the manor, Bruce was really a nice guy, opening up his house to so many people.

You stared at Tim who was working on the batcomputer, sometimes stealing glances at you and smiling reassuringly at you. You wish he was sitting right beside you, but he had a big case to crack and you knew you could handle it with team Arrow. Still, it would be nice to have him by your side.

“Stop daydreaming about your boyfriend.” Emiko poked your side

You frowned at her “What makes you think I am daydreaming about him?”

“You were staring.”

You rolled your eyes at her “You were staring at Damian earlier too and I didn’t acuse you of daydreaming about him.”

Her face took different shades of red, glaring at you the way you knew your brother used when he was out on patrol. You smiled triumphantly at her as she scoffed and said it was bullshit. You giggled, throwing an arm over her shoulder and bringing her into a sided hug, one that she tried to fight but couldn’t because you knew she lacked this kind of affection from her mom, and she seeked that in you.

“So according to the data that Oliver managed to get, they will be in London this weekend.” Felicity informed, staring at the laptop in front of her

“Good.” Diggle nodded his head “We have some time to prepare, then.”

“We need to be at our best conditions, so this means no patrol while in town, we can’t risk it getting hurt before leaving.” Dinah said, giving Emiko a pointed look

“That’s not fair. You said I could patrol tonight!”

“Dinah is right. Beside, the bats got it covered, we should be worring about Star City.” Oliver shook his head “I called Roy and Arthemis, they said they will see what they can do to make sure the city is safe while we’re away.”

Soon, everyone started to leave the cave, allowing you, to finally go spend some time with your dear sweet boyfriend.

You stood behind him, watching whatever he was hacking into him. You lightly touched his shoulders, not to startle him, but you had a good idea that he already knew you were behind him.

“Haven’t you worked enough, already?” You asked, quietly not to disturb the calming silence

Tim sighted “Maybe. I do need to wake up early tomorrow, but I really not to finish this.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek “What do I need to do to make you go to bed and get some rest?”

“Sleep right next to me and cuddle?” He suggested, spinning around in the chair and caging you between his legs, hands pressed against his chest

“That sounds like a good deal.”

Tim nodded, smiling at you and stending up, still keeping you in his arms. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

“Let’s go to sleep.” He whispered, you nodded with your eyes closed, basking into his warm touch

He lead you out of the cave and into the manor. Keeping a hand at the small of your back, while he told you about the case he was working on and how Jason had been bugging him about it all day long.

“I swear I wanted to punch him.” He rambled, making you chuckle “Don’t laugh, I mean it.”

“I know you do, love.”

You pushed his barroom door open and stepped inside, turning on the lights. His room smelled faintly like coffee - probably because he thought it would be a good idea to get a coffee machine there, but it ended up with you and Alfred scolding him for being irresponsible.

Tim wandered to his closet with you trailing behind him, you grabbed a hoddie while he got sweatpants for him to sleep. You turned back to change your cloths into his hoddie.

“Is everything ok with you and Oliver?” He asked, entering the bathroom to brush his teeth

“Yes.” You sighted, grabbing the toothpaste “We are going to London this weekend.”

He nodded, brushing his teeth while he watched your expression on the mirror. You looked tired, and he knew you haven’t been sleeping well lately - you spent most of the nights together, while he was working on the computer you’d be lying in his bed, tossing and turning too much for someone who was having a good night sleep.

“I just want this to be over with as soon as possible.” You said after finishing brushing your teeth “But at the same time I don’t want it to be over because I am terrified of what I am going to face when I see my mom again.”

He nodded, kissing your temple.

“It’s going to be alright, pretty bird. You’re not alone in this.”

You smiled at him, clibing into bed right next to him. Tim pulled the covers on top of you both, and pulled you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around you.

“Try to get some sleep.” He kissed your forehead

“Goodnight, Timmy.” You mumbled

There was something about London that made you like the city quiete a lot. You haven been there so many times, only two. Once when you were still a child and your dad had a business meeting, he thought it would be a good idea to take with him, spend a couple more days than necessary. You enjoyed it a lot, it was one of your favorite memories with your dad. 

Now, there you were back in town, but this time to deal with your villain mom who you didn't even know was alive. Well, maybe London will lose its magic once you realize that from now on you will be thinking of this town as a place where your family fell apart. 

You watched Emiko and Damian discuss different types of blades and which occasion it was better to use them. You frowned. Weirds kids, why can't they talk about some cartoons or school? You hated the fact that they didn't acknowledge their childhood and instead acted like... this. 

A cold hand fell on top of yours. You turned around watching Tim smile at you, you smiled back, placing your head on his shoulder. 

"Is it weird that your first trip together is a mission with our family involved?" he questioned making you giggle

"Totally. But I don't think I would've even stepped a foot in the airport if it wasn't for you."

He kissed the top of your head.

"Do you want to go to your room?" he proposed, looking at Emiko and Damian on top of Damian's bed 

"Tim Drake are you trying to get me into bed?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him, a playful smile on your lips 

"To sleep, yes."

You nodded, standing up with him. You both didn't like very much room arrangements, you were sharing it with your sister and Tim was sharing it with Damian, but since both were busy in Tim's room, it wouldn't be weird if you both napped in yours.

You opened the bedroom door with your card key, letting it lock behind the both of you. You kicked your shoes off, unbuttoning your jeans to get rid of them, it would be very uncomfortable to sleep in them. 

"Uh, what you're doing?" Tim asked, you looked over your shoulder to see him with wide eyes trying not to look at you

You giggled "Taking off my clothes so I can put on more comfortable ones? What did you think I was doing, Timmy?"

He groaned at your teasing voice and smile. Yes, of course you would tease him. You both have been a this weird teasing make out sessions mood ever since the day at the bar, but it haven't gone far than that because there was always something to interrupt them. And yes, it was killing him that all he wanted to do was to be with you and you kept teasing him, so of course, he teased you back, it was a restless war that you both couldn't wait to be over.

"Maybe going to take a nice and hot shower..." he trailed off, pulling at his sweater until it was lying on the floor, you stared at his chest then slowly your eyes were back at his face "But comfortable clothes sound very nice."

You frowned at him, he didn't have any clothes at your bedroom right now because you two weren't sharing it. Then a devious idea popped into your mind.

You took of your shirt, and then your bra, leaving yourself in just your panties. You went down to the floor, grabbing the sweater Tim had left fall there, not breaking eye contact as you put on his clothes. You watched him gulp as he stared at your body covered in his sweater. 

You grinned at him, flopping yourself on top of the bed, patting the place next to you.

"Aren't you going to take a nap with me?"

Tim took a deep breath before lowering himself to the mattress and laying beside you. You moved yourself closer to his body, letting him drop his arm over your waist as you placed a hand on top of his chest.

"Now, this is nice."

You closed your eyes, enjoining your boyfriend's warmth, embracing the tiredness.

Now that you ara finally in London, the moment you're going to have to face your mom is closer than ever. You could still remember all of the memories you had with her, not believing that the same loving woman who had raised you until her last days was the same one that was part of such a bad and horrible organization, that she had did all that Talia had told you. You just couldn't wrap your mind around it.

What are you going to actually do when you see her? Talk? Hug? Yell? You had to be prepared, you couldn't just stand still staring at her. You're going to have a plan of action, you're going to have to be ready for this dreadful moment. 

Oh, but how you wish Oliver is wrong and that his is mom. 

You lifted your head from the pillow, watching Tim who had his eyes closed, but you knew weren't asleep.

"Why aren't you sleeping yet?" he asked you once he felt you shifting around, still not opening his eyes 

"My mind won't shut up." you complained, letting your head fall back into the pillow, sighing heavily 

He chuckled "Welcome to my world, pretty bird, this is way I always stay later than I should."

"Maybe we're spending too much time together." you joked 

He squeezed your waist making you squeak.

"Tired of me already?"

"Never." you shook your head, laughing 

You stared at Tim. He, now, had his eyes open and was looking at you. He looked so beautiful, with sleep clouding him and the soft smile he was giving you right now. You are so luck to be the one lying in this bed, with his arms around you. You couldn't imagine sharing a moment like this with anyone else but him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quietly 

You smiled "Just thinking about how cute you look when you're all soft and ready to sleep."

He leaned him, allowing his lips to touch yours briefly, in a sweet kiss. You touched his hair, tangling your fingers in it, it was so soft and you loved to put your hands there because you knew he enjoyed it too. He brought you in closer by the arm around your waist, pressing your chest together.

Soon enough, you were straddling his hips, full on make out session. Hands everywhere, touching every ounce of skin possible, shivers running down your spine every time Tim squeezed some part of you. Breath moans leaving your lips when he kissed down your neck. 

And then, someone opened the bedroom door. Tim pushed you off of him, nearly knocking you out of bed, but luckily you found a way to stabilize yourself.  He tried to cover his naked chest only to realize that you had stolen his sweater and that your clothes were scattered across the room, having fallen out of their original place on top of bed. This did not look good.

Emiko and Damian stood on the door, staring at the both of you. Cheeks flushed and mouths hung open. 

"Oh my God." your sister muttered "I'm sorry, we didn't meant to..."

"What are you apologizing for? They are the ones who should be sorry." Damian frowned "We are here on a serious mission and you two are trying to get at each other like desperate beings, we do not need any more Drakes in the world."

You thought you couldn't feel more embarrassed than right now. You couldn't even look them in the eyes, this is so so bad. And the fact that Damian thought you and Tim were trying to have babies? Oh God, you cannot deal with this right now. 

"We are going to order some... food." Emiko said, scowling backing away into the hallway "If you guys are hungry..." 

She closed the door behind her, leaving you and Tim alone and in completely weird silence. 

You kept staring at the closed door, still not believing your sister and Tim's brother had walked into you two making out on bed. This is so embarrassing, and frustrating. 

"You don't think they are going to tell Oliver, do you?" Your boyfriend broke the silence, making you turn your head to look at him 

"Hopefully not." you slid out of bed "I'm going to take a shower so I can try to forget that our siblings could've seen us naked doing something they shouldn't see us doing."

You grabbed some clothes out of your suitcase and headed towards the bathroom. Tim stayed laying in bed, watching you.

"It could've been worse." he said as you were about to close the door "It could've been Jason, Dick or Roy. Think about how much teasing we would have to go trough."

You wined just thinking about it. Hopefully, both Damian and Emiko would keep their mouths shut and this all could be avoided. The last thing you needed was to be teased by something that didn't even happen yet.

After you left the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to actually try to get some sleep or even go to Damian’s room and eat dinner with them. You opened the door to the bathroom, finding an empty spot in bed where Tim had been previously. You looked around the room, finding Emiko getting her suit out of her suitcase.

“We have to go.” She said, putting her suit in a hand backpack “They’re on the move.”

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