#clasps my hands together and smiles emptily

[cemeterything]

i have an angel and a devil on my shoulder and also a third other guy who looks just like my dad. i try not to look at him but i know he's there.

#🐉 #clasps my hands together and smiles emptily

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

WIP Wednesday

it may not be wednesday anymore but i’m not that far off.

tagged by @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @deardmvz <33

i don’t even know who to tag so if you want to join me in being late for this please do go ahead. tag me, i’d love to see.

also this is just over 1000 words so excuse that. it’s a pretty lengthy series i was working on a long while back. never posted. :)

…

Steve had an arrangement of emotions that hovered over his mind as he rushed around the kitchen making breakfast for himself. The little television was on in the corner counter as he spread butter over his toast, occasionally tuning into the news channel. He was debating on whether or not calling out of work would be a bad move. His head did feel a little sluggish and he knew he’d end up with a horrible headache by the end of the day nonetheless. He straightened his posture and looked up at the grey window. The day didn’t seem to favor anything good either.

There was a dark haired, middle aged man speaking when Steve looked up as he plucked up the other piece of toast, “In breaking news, there was a private jet crash near the Canandian border reported just fifteen minutes ago. The group aboard the plane were prestigious lawyers, Katherine Dacy and Oliver Brookson and their co-partners, John and Elizabeth Harrington,” the man sat up straighter in his chair as Steve barely registered his own posture sinking. “There was a pilot aboard, Jayson Dickson, they are all assumed to be deceas—” Steve blankly heard his toast plop on the floor. His ears started ringing and his vision blurred, his knees following in his body’s failure to deal. His parents were dead. The plane crashed. Katherine and Oliver? He remembered them. They came to dinner a few times. They were nice, they talked to him about civil justice while his parents bickered over white or red wine. His parents—

Steve struck into action and stumbled upright clumsily to the phone on the wall ten feet away, “Hopper,” he whispered to himself, “Hopper. Hopper can help.” He ripped the phone off and dialed the memorized house number.

It rang and rang until there was finally an open click, “Jim here,” was the greeting, it sounded like a rushed thing though. Like he had somewhere to be and whoever was calling better have a good reason. Well, Steve thought dead parents were a pretty good reason.

Steve took in a shaky breath before clearing his throat painfully, “Hop?”

Hopper’s voice changed significantly, “Steve? That you?” he didn’t pause long enough for a response, “‘Course it’s you, I just saw the news, kid. I was just on my way over.”

“Over?” he asked curiously, he grunted as the air was forced out when his knees finally buckled and he dropped heavily to the floor.

“Steve? Harrington?” Hopper’s voice carried through the line worriedly, “You— What are you doing right now?”

“Work,” Steve mumbled and looked at the shiny red telephone in his right hand before slowly raising it, “I was going to work, making breakfast,” he spoke slowly; shock taking it’s powerful place. Although, toast and work seemed very far away; eons.

“You aren’t going to work, kid,” Hopper reasoned and Steve nodded back to the air emptily, “You got that?”

Steve whispered back, “Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, don’t do anything rash, Steve, I know you may be thinking things but you just wait there until we’re there.” Steve racked his brain to see what Hopper may have been talking about but he couldn’t find anything. There was nothing. He felt numb and even the deep sorrow he knew was there couldn’t penetrate the lack of everything he felt and thought. He swayed where he sat, subconsciously, back and forth as he searched desperately for some sort of movement around him.

“Okay,” Steve said at last when he realized they both had been stuck in the silence, “I’ll be here waiting.”

“See you soon, Steve,” he heard back and then clicked to the end of the line.

He sat back against the wall and spread his legs out in front of himself, light blue pajama pants that his mother had gifted to him last Christmas. Made him feel nice about something. Made him feel content and warmed even in the large and open emptiness of the house. And then Steve began thinking about how the house will begin to feel even more empty with his parents officially gone. No more mom and dad bickering over wine, or his mediocre grades, or how he should strive for a better job. No more stupidly funny jokes by his tipsy mother, no more pleasantly enjoyable law lessons from his father on quiet nights they were home, no more holidays shared sparingly. They were gone. And Steve had learned quickly, especially in the past few years, how to accept loss. But this seemed to be different. A part of his already feeble life was gone. A big part. The beginning of his own. His parents were dead. Was that what Hopper had been talking about. There was an awful amount of death-speak panging around his mind.

Steve erupted with a powerful sob then, tears suddenly springing forward and flooding over his eyelids even when he closed then uncomfortably tight. His shoulders hunched forward and his stomach contracted as he felt bile rise. He forced it down at the last moment and then took in a delicate rumble of a breath from his aching and burning lungs. His heart was pounding so loud and fierce that he felt it in his ears and brain. He brought his hands up and covered his face, where his fingers grazed his forehead and the heels of his hands rested at the bottom of his cheeks.

He trembled on the floor with hot and sticky tears blotching his skin, and then stood up in sudden strength and slammed his own phone down on the holder attached to the wall. The grey wall his mother had made his father agree to when Steve was ten. It had been a three day fight over the wall color. Steve’s father had wanted it green. Steve found that suddenly amusing as he recalled the conversations his mother had with his father where she scolded him on his poor color pallet choice. He laughed into the vacant house hysterically and listened to the echoes it created. The front door slammed open and multiple voices took it over.

There were arms around Steve before he could even fully turn around when he got to his feet to greet the loud guests. And when he did manage to glance at the tops of two women’s heads he clasped his own two arms around them too. Robin and Joyce stepped back with their wide and empathetic eyes. Steve knew he looked a mess by the way sympathy and concern overran their expressions. And he felt it too, his hot temperature and stiff limbs.

“We’re here for you, honey,” Joyce grabbed his forearm gently, but it was firm too. Hopper stood in the doorway, so Steve waved him over before he answered Joyce.

Hopper stepped inside and closed the door as Steve began to speak thickly, “I just— I don’t know what to do,” he released.

Joyce cupped his cheek like he’d seen her do with her own sons before, “Oh, honey,” she eased, “You don’t need to know anything right now. We just need to sit down, stick together, and take the day to slowly come to terms.”

“They’re gone,” he choked out loud finally. He looked up at Joyce’s suddenly tear filled eyes, “They’re actually gone. They’re not coming back to me anymore,” he felt his knees give way but Robin held him up.

She grunted and then put his arm over her shoulder, “Alright, let’s move this to the living room, Bud,” she spoke like she was trying to keep normality to the situation but also still show she cared. And Steve could understand the meaning even in the moment of weakness in his structure. There were cracks everywhere in himself. But he knew Robin and he knew Joyce and he knew Hopper. They were strong, they were present, and they came to stay with him. That was what he needed. Robin seated him on the plush sofa as the two adults entered the room. Steve leaned back and stared off a moment before refocusing on Robin’s clear blue gape.

“Do you guys have to leave?” he asked. The rest looked taken aback and Robin maybe a little offended.

“Son,” Hopper spoke up, “We’re gonna be here all damn day whether you like it or not.”

Steve smiled wetly back, “Thank you.”

Hopper smiled and Joyce did the same beside him, “No prob—” he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Steve sat up with perseverance he hadn’t had a moment ago, “I got it, don’t worry.” He shuffled over to the wall from before and picked it up, after a moment he gripped it with his other hand too, “I know, Aunt Clara, I know.”

#wip game #steve harrington #stranger things #jim hopper #it is an eventual harringrove. key work eventual #tw death

[mywonuderful]

Not So Cold-Hearted Pt. 8

Summary: Y/N, a member of a popular newly debut girl group and Wonwoo has what some may call a relationship with emotional ambivalent. Will their relationship remain cold-blooded or will they finally come to an agreement and become something more?

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

masterlist

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Hello, welcome to Espresso Love Caf-” “Y/N…?” you heard a low husky voice as you looked up and meet a pair of eyes who belonged to no other than Wonwoo “Wonwoo…?” Your eyes widen once you registered who it really was as he had somewhat a surprised expression as well. “Do you guys know it each other?”  Ms. Bosa looks back and forth between you and Wonwoo. “We’re from the same company” Wonwoo plainly said as he quickly walked to the lockers to put his bag away and change into his uniform. Still speechless of his sudden appearance, you suddenly hear Ms. Bosa letting out a chuckle. “You must be really shocked to see him. Seeing how wide your mouth is hanging.” You quickly closed your mouth and cleared your throat, heading into the kitchen to see if Mr. Bosa has anything to carry out.  As you headed to the kitchen, you saw Wonwoo walking towards you. You both stop and glanced at each other when Wonwoo holding in his laughter as he looked at his outfit. Your face immediately turned red as you dashed into the kitchen, hoping he didn’t see your tomato face. “We should really bake together next time.” Mr. Bosa hands you a tray of freshly baked goods to bring out to the store. “That’ll be great.” You smiled as you carefully carried out the warm tray. Ms. Bosa was then in stock room, refilling coffee beans leaving you and Wonwoo the only one at the front of the store. Walking past him, you went to one of the displays to refill it when you felt Wonwoo’s gaze piercing through you back. Heading back to the the counter, you started washing the plates and cups, still feeling his eyes on you. “How’d you find this place?” His voice sounded rather stern. “I used to come here often. It so happened that they were hiring and I was free.” Your eyes lifted from the dishes to meet his. “Guess you have no solo schedules unlike your other members.” He laughs as you stopped scrubbing one of the cups, closing your eyes to stop yourself from causing a fuss. “I could say the same about you too, Wonwoo.” Your said emptily as you saw from the corner of your eyes that he gave you a look before Mr. Bosa called him in the help him on something. The door chimes as your first customer comes in.  “Welcome to Espresso Love Cafe!” You cheerfully said as 4 males entered the cafe. They looked to be in their first or second year of university. They group of males whispered at each other while giving you surprised expression before they ordered their drinks. “Your total comes to $15. Would you like to pay together or separately?” You asked as you punched in the orders onto the screen. “I’ll pay for you guys today. It’ll be my treat” One of the males said as the rest looked at each other suspiciously. “Hyung, you never treated us. Is it because she’s here?” One of the members said, rather loudly as his friends nudged him that you heard. You smiled silently, feeling a little confused when you glanced over your shoulder when he entered his card pin and saw Wonwoo staring at the group of boys before looking at you and turning around to make the drinks. They took a seat at a nearby table and started taking out their books to study. “Seeing them studying brings back memories.” You said out loud mindlessly, not realizing that Wonwoo heard. He lifted his head and saw you leaning over the counter, looking at the group of boys who had their heads buried in their books. His lips formed into a small smile as he look back on you but he quickly shook his head, mentally scolding himself for such actions as he went back on finishing the orders. “It’s done.” you turned around and saw that the drinks where completely. “Wow, this look amazing.” you examined the beautifully made latte art when you heard Wonwoo cleared his throat. Your eyes passed by Wonwoo as you saw his blushed back with his hand behind his neck as you softly chuckled, carrying a tray with the drinks. “Your drinks are here, sir.” You approached the group of boys as the quickly cleared the table for you to place down the drinks. “Thank you” The boys bowed as you did the same. “E-Excuse me!” One of the boys called loudly as you headed back to the counter, catching the attention of Wonwoo and the store owners as they walked out from the back of they store to see what’s going on. Your footsteps stopped as you quickly thought and any mistakes you’ve done before slowly turning around, approaching them once again with a nervous smile. “Is there something wrong?” You asked as your eyes scanned over the drinks but they were correctly placed. The boys started fidgeting around when you heard footsteps from behind. Running your eye over your shoulder, you saw Wonwoo slowly approaching towards you and the group of customers. “By any chance, are you Y/N from Eunoia?” One of the boys finally spoke as Wonwoo’s footsteps stopped and your head turned to face them with a startled expression. “Ah, yes I am. How’d you know?” You mentally regretted asking that last part as the group of boys broke out into laughter. “Of course we know. Who wouldn’t?” The boys looked at you with excitement that an idol was serving them coffee. “Is it alright if we ask for a picture together?” You glanced over to Mrs. and Mr. Bosa who gave a big thumbs up as they boys hurriedly gather around you, bickering on who gets to stand beside you as you awkwardly and nervously stood still. After taking the picture, they started bombarding with question who caused you to feel uncomfortable since still weren’t used to all the attention. Looking back and forth from each person talking, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, Ms. Bosa is calling for you.” Wonwoo says with a soft smile as you silently nodded before excusing yourself to head back. Walking back to the counter, the couple started smirking. “Just as expected. If this keeps up, hopefully our store will start having more and more customers.” Mr. Bosa cheered as you blushed. Wonwoo followed behind as he lets out a sigh. “Thanks for helping me back there.” You mumbled as he nodded, walking past you like nothing happened and returned to working. After the group of students left, more and more starting entering, shocked to see Wonwoo and you working at the cafe as pictures and signatures were asked. 

“I think I took more pictures with and fans than actually work.” You let out a defeated sigh as you leaned against the counter, resting your head on your hand. “Where did all these people come from?” Wonwoo rested his arm on top of the display stand on the counter when and Bosa couple appeared with huge smiles on their faces. “We’ve decided to keep the two of you as permanent staffs!” Mrs. Bosa clasped her hands has her husband nodded proudly, leaving you and Wonwoo looking at each other with confusion. “During your hectic work today, we secretly took pictures with fans and while you were working and uploaded on our social media page! Our page is blowing up!” She showed us her phone where there were pictures of you and Wonwoo smiling at customers and working. Looking at the pictures of Wonwoo and you smiling so naturally made you smile unconsciously while looking at them, glancing up to see Wonwoo’s expression, he had a soft smile on his face as well. “Why don’t we take a staff photo together to end the night? It’ll be great on our main page.” Mr. Bosa ran to the back to get a tripod and hurriedly set it up as you and Wonwoo stood in the front and Mrs. and Mr. Bosa stood at the back. In order to even out the picture, Wonwoo had to bent to to your level so that he didn’t block the back as he grunted.

“You’re a lot smaller than I thought.” He grunted as you narrowed you eyes at him when Mr. Bosa waved his stand to get out attention as he started to timer and ran beside his wife and waited for the countdown. After taking the photo, everyone cleaned up the store and got ready to head home. “How are you getting home?” The couple asked as you and Wonwoo wore your jackets. “I’m going to walk home since it’s just a 15 minute walk away from here. Plus, the weather is starting to get warmer now.” You smiled as you glanced over at Wonwoo who was already headed for the back door.  “Oh, isn’t Wonwoo also walk-” “Goodnight Mr. and Mrs. Bosa. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Wonwoo bid goodbye and left without another word. “Wonwoo is sure an interesting person, isn’t he?” She asked as you let out a soft chuckle. Heading out with the couple, you thank them once again as they told you that you could work whenever you’re free and that you didn’t have to work when you had promotions. After saying goodbye, you started walking up the small street to more of a bigger and crowded street.

‘Shit, it’s a Saturday night today and I forgot my mask.’ you thought as you slowly walked up the small hill of the streets and saw the main street filled with people. Taking a deep breath, you lowered you head and started walking quickly, hoping that no one will notice. You started hearing whispers as you walked pass people and stares and looks were given, making you walk even faster when someone dropped something in front of you. Bending down to pick up the stranger’s purse, you looked up and handed the purse back when you saw her eyes and mouth widen, immediately regretting lifting your head. “OH MY GOSH AREN’T YOU Y/N FROM EUNOIA?” The female cried, catching the attentions of many others around you as they all started to gathering around you, asking you for autographs and pictures. Starting to feel suffocated, you found a gap between the crowd as you quickly slipped through the crowd and started running, as they fans started following along, crying your name. ‘thank god, I joined the track team back then.’ you thought as you started picking up your speed but the crowd behind doesn’t give up. Soon after you started running out of breath as you found a small road as you stopped for a second to catch your breath when your eyes glanced over and saw that there was even more people coming towards you. Taking in a deep breath, you started running along when someone grabs your wrist and pulls you in between two buildings, tightly covering your mouth.

“What’d she go?” “I swear she went this way!” “Damn she’s athletic. I think I fell even deeper for her.” “How’d she disappear?” “Maybe she went this way.” Your group of fans looked around rapidly before heading jogging further down the road as they voices started getting more and more quiet. You started freaking out about someone covering your mouth when you strike your elbow towards the stomach and heard a familiar voice. Turning around, you see Wonwoo bending over groaning in pain as he clenches his stomach. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry are you okay?” You quickly kneel down to check if he was okay, but his face was scrunched up in pain.  “Wonwoo, I’m so so so sorry. I thought you were someone trying to kidnap me or something. I-”  “Just shut up! You’re being annoying.” Wonwoo suddenly yells, as you stepped back, taken back by his raised voice. “Why’d I even help you in the first place if this is what I get.” He mumbles as he stands back up, massaging the spot you elbowed. “I didn’t mean to…” Your voice trailed off as you looked down, not knowing what to do or say. After a moment of silence, Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “Sorry. I didn’t mean what I said earlier.” he quietly apologized as you looked up him looking away. “I should be the one apologize. You were only trying to help and instead, you got injured.” You shook your head. “Is your… Stomach okay…?” You slowly approached him as your rested your hand over the spot you hit on his stomach without thinking when you felt him flinch at your touch, making your realize what you were doing.

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#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #kpop #kpop fanfiction #nsch

[toomuchofabastard]

Heaven’s Final Betrayal (3/6)

[ << CHAPTER 1 ] [ < CHAPTER 2 ]

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Aftermath of Rape/Non-Con, Denial, Drinking, Self-Blame

Word count: 3,228 (total 9,818)

Fic Summary: It was obvious that Heaven wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about Aziraphale’s role in preventing Armageddon. But neither the angel nor Crowley could have predicted how far they were willing to go to get  revenge, and now Aziraphale needs him by his side more than ever.

READ ON AO3

___

Crowley was stirred from the inky grasp of sleep by the rumble of the mattress and the sensation of shifting weight next to him. Reality slowly seeped its way back into his consciousness. Aziraphale. The angel was awake. His bed, his flat. Morning.

What happened yesterday.

Crowley grimaced as the memories resurfaced. Fuck. Images flickered unbidden in his mind, snippets and sounds of events like a highlights reel designed specifically to torment him. He rubbed his gluey eyes with the heel of his palm, and forced them open. The visions vanished.

Aziraphale was sat on the edge of the bed, still and silent. Crowley couldn’t see his face.

“Mornin’, angel,” he mumbled.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied quietly, but still facing away. Crowley cocked his head, trying to guess at what was going through the angel’s mind. After a long pause, Aziraphale turned to him.

“So-,” he began, with what Crowley could tell instantly was painfully-forced cheerfulness. He patted his thighs and gave a half-hearted wiggle.

“Breakfast at the Ritz?”

His voice was thin and brittle-sounding, higher than normal. The smile on his face didn’t reach to his eyes. The sight rekindled the ache deep in Crowley’s chest.

Crowley sighed. “Angel, it’s- …You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale replied quickly. Then he exhaled shakily and his eyes scrunched closed.

Crowley sat up next to him and encircled his arms gently around the angel’s waist, hugging his belly and resting his cheek against his shoulder. When Aziraphale’s eyes opened again, they were filled with the same despair and devastation from the night before. His chin started to pucker and he blinked rapidly. He wouldn’t look at Crowley as he spoke, instead staring down at his hands rested loosely in his lap.  “I… I don’t want to think about it, Crowley. Please, just for today, can we please just pretend…” His voice wobbled and he trailed off with a gulp, turning away.

Crowley sighed unhappily and rubbed his hands over the angel’s stomach. Pretend what? Pretend like it had never happened? Like yesterday afternoon had just been a bad dream. Like they were still happy. Like he hadn’t been raped. Oh God, thought Crowley, as the weight of the word hit him fully. He’d been raped. They’d raped him.

He looked again at Aziraphale’s face. No matter how valiantly the angel was trying to bury it, he couldn’t just suppress all that hurt, all that trauma. He was visibly this close to breaking, barely holding himself together. Crowley was pretty sure one tiny thing would be enough to throw him over the edge. And stoically, stupidly trotting out that stiff upper lip and hiding behind denial would only make things worse, Crowley knew. Why did he do that to himself? He supposed Heaven had taught him to be that way. Some kind of self-defence mechanism against all their cruelty and control.

But he couldn’t ask Crowley to be party to it. Crowley couldn’t do that, it just hurt too much. Even if Aziraphale needed him to… ah, shit. He looked down, and ran his tongue despondently over the back of his teeth. Yeah. Aziraphale needed him. And wasn’t he always there when Aziraphale needed him. He knew this was never going to be sustainable in the long term. But, especially with how fragile Aziraphale seemed right now… maybe just for one day…

“Alright,” Crowley eventually conceded. He nuzzled sadly into the angel’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered.

“So-,” Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried again, the artificial mask of cheerfulness returning. “The Ritz, for breakfast? We haven’t been there for a while. And their smoked salmon is simply delectable, and they do that fancy juice that you like, or at least you said that you did last time. Or-or we could do the Wolseley, if you prefer?” He was rambling, still smiling too wide and too emptily.

“Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley replied quietly. Just because he’d agreed, didn’t mean he had to encourage him. He was already hating every second of this.

Aziraphale flashed the fake smile again, and swallowed. “The Ritz it is.”

◥|⧗|◤

They took the Bentley. Crowley drove with less reckless abandon than usual, not wanting to rattle his angel in his current state. Aziraphale spent most of the drive looking vacantly out of the window as the busy London streets zipped by. Crowley shot him furtive glances, wanting to keep watch over him but hoping to avoid the usual chiding “eyes on the road, please dear”. Aziraphale either didn’t see or was choosing to ignore him. His hands in his lap were clasped tight, Crowley noticed. The little signs were still there, betraying what the angel must really be feeling inside.

A table for two for the breakfast sitting was miraculously available, and they were seated immediately. Crowley dismissed the waiter with a flick of his hand when he tried to pull out the chair for him, whereas Aziraphale smiled graciously at the man and accepted his help. He couldn’t hide the wince as he sat though, and even as he tried to smother it, Crowley could see the despair flicker again, ever so briefly, behind his eyes. Then it was gone, and the smile was back, though even less convincing than before. Aziraphale sat up ramrod straight and busied himself with his napkin. Crowley smirked vaguely back at him, heart heavy. He’d put on a new pair of sunglasses, and was very thankful for the camouflage they provided. He didn’t want Aziraphale (or any of the humans, for that matter) reading his expression at the moment.

They ordered quickly, and ate quietly. Aziraphale maintained the frozen smile throughout the meal, and tried a number of times to engage Crowley in pleasant small talk, but Crowley didn’t feel any more like talking than he did like eating, and the resulting silence hung dead and flat in the air around them. Aziraphale, likewise, wasn’t eating with his usual relish, instead picking at his food and batting it around the plate with a far-away look in his eyes. Nonetheless, the angel forced down every morsel and afterwards made a great show of wiping his lips with the napkin and complimenting the waitstaff. Crowley watched him carefully all the while, ready for the moment when the mask would finally crack, already preparing himself to pick up shattered pieces of angel in the aftermath.

But it didn’t come, and once they’d paid for the meal*, they headed to St. James’ Park at Aziraphale’s suggestion. The ducks were rowdy as usual, tearing the pieces of bread they threw to shreds, like vultures at a carcass. Crowley begrudgingly left the angel alone at the pond-side while he fetched them ice-creams from the kiosk, as had become their habit. Aziraphale accepted his with another flash of that god-awful broken smile, and linked his soft hand with Crowley’s purposefully. Crowley gave it a squeeze.

*Crowley, by force of habit, left a handful of pennies on the table for the waiter, but discreetly doubled the service charge on the bill. 

They strolled around the edge of the water as they ate. Occasionally, Crowley felt a subtle tremor run through Aziraphale’s hand in his, but when he turned to check on him, the angel always looked away, suddenly remarking on the activity of the waterfowl or pointing out a worthy target for one of Crowley’s demonic wiles.

The deflection continued as they finished the ice-creams and headed back towards the bookshop, stopping at Piccadilly Market on the way. It was busy with people today, milling around between the red-and-white striped awnings, underneath which proprietors were hawking old books, antiques, and other sorts of tat that the angel loved. Aziraphale dragged Crowley from stall to stall, cheerily inspecting their wares. He seemed unable (or, Crowley guessed, unwilling) to pause for even a moment, presumably lest the façade he’d built up crumble without a constant distraction. But Crowley caught the mask slipping in a few moments when the angel thought his face was hidden. A shimmer of uncertainty in his eyes, a tiredness in the way he held himself. As the afternoon wore on, Crowley could swear Aziraphale began to limp when he walked, just imperceptibly.

Crowley was worried about him. It had been gnawing away at his stomach all day. But he couldn’t help but feel annoyed too. Aziraphale must realise how much it hurt whenever he turned that bloody fake cheerfulness act of his on him. Sure, hiding his feelings from Heaven or even from the humans was understandable, but they were supposed to be on the same side now. They were supposed to share these things. Did he think Crowley would judge him? That he wouldn’t see through it in an instant? They’d known each other too long for the latter, and Crowley prayed that Aziraphale didn’t believe the former. It just hurt, the way Aziraphale was shutting him out.

The sky was turning peach-coloured with the first omens of sunset when they eventually got back to the bookshop. Crowley held his breath as he opened the door. Aziraphale hung back behind him. Inside, everything was still, the air heavy with dust, and the books, papers and furniture exactly as where they’d left them the last time they’d been home. Before. Crowley sighed deeply. Nothing had changed. Even though it seemed everything else in their world had. A weight that he hadn’t realised was pressing down on him seemed to lift slightly from his shoulders.

He turned and motioned Aziraphale inside. The angel looked briefly hesitant, but then he swallowed, raised his chin, and entered. Crowley’s hand went automatically to brush his back as he passed. Finally, they were back where they belonged. He shut the door on the world behind them with a sense of conclusiveness. The hum of the streets melted away, and then it was just them, left in silence.

◥|⧗|◤

They were six bottles of wine down, and Aziraphale was clumsily opening a seventh, when the elephant in the room finally trumpeted its unwelcome presence. Crowley had only drunk one, maybe one-and-a-half, of the bottles. The edges of the room were just beginning to spin a little at the corner of his vision. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was so far beyond plastered that he was heading towards a decorative stucco with crown moulding.

“An-angel, I think you’vhad enough,” drawled Crowley, and then frowned at himself, surprised at how drunk he already sounded.

Aziraphale made a face like a petulant toddler. “Jus’ one more,” he muttered. He finished wrestling with the cork and tipped the bottle unsteadily, managing to get at least half of the liquid into the glass instead of onto the carpet. “Can’t… can’t do any harm.”

Crowley’s face creased in disagreement, but he said nothing.

Aziraphale grasped the glass and then necked the contents back in one gulp like a parched man in the desert. Crowley watched, slightly dumbfounded. Under the veil of inebriation, the worry bit again at his stomach.

“Hey, you r’member that thing at that wedding in Cana?” he asked abruptly. “Wine into water - no, wait-” He made a spinning motion with his hand. “-other way ‘round. You know what I mean.”

Aziraphale looked morosely up at him, cradling the glass close. “Bloody awful evening.”

“You’re just sssaying that ‘cos you weren’t allowed any,” said Crowley. The angel pouted.

“Anyway…” continued Crowley, feeling increasingly talkative as the alcohol permeated its way into his system. “Point is, you’re not s’pposed to drink it like it’s still water.” He jutted out his chin. “So s-stop drinking like a… a…” What was the phrase? Some kind of animal. Something aquatic?

“…a dolphin,” he finished, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Aziraphale spluttered with laughter, making Crowley blink in surprise. “ ‘s fish, dear,” the angel slurred, and then collapsed into another giggle. “You and your dolphins!” He suddenly fell about laughing, bending double on the sofa, and inadvertently sloshing wine everywhere.

Crowley smirked uneasily. His unease built as the angel’s laughter grew gradually louder and louder, until it was almost hysterical. It hadn’t been that funny, he thought to himself. The noise sounded wrong to his ears, discordant and unsettling, as though the bottom had fallen out of reality. It actually made him feel a bit sick.

Aziraphale raised his glass-free hand to cover his face. Beneath it, Crowley heard the hysterical laughter slowly transmute into hysterical sobbing.

Aaand there it is, thought Crowley with pained resignation. The angel had finally reached his breaking point. Immediately, he miracled the alcohol out of his body and back into one of the bottles. “Angel?” He stepped closer and knelt down in front of Aziraphale, trying to peer up through the angel’s fingers at his face. Aziraphale’s hunched shoulders jerked fitfully up and down, muffled sobs and hiccups escaping from underneath his hand. Crowley gently removed the wine glass from his other hand, and then took hold of his wrist and rubbed soothingly at his pulse-point.

“Talk to me, angel,” Crowley said softly. “Please.”

He waited while Aziraphale continued to gasp for breath, eventually managed to stop sobbing, and swallowed heavily. Slowly, the angel peeped out at Crowley like a frightened child from underneath the hood of his hand. Half of his face remained hidden, but what Crowley could make out was contorted with anguish.

“How do you make it stop, Crowley?” he asked wretchedly, sniffling. “It just-… I just want it to stop hurting. I don’t know what to do.” He stared into Crowley’s eyes, looking desperately lost.

“Help me,” he pleaded.

And there was that terrible, stabbing ache in Crowley’s chest again. “Oh…c’mere,” Crowley replied with a sympathetic sigh. He clambered onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and drew him close. Aziraphale lent into his touch, burying his face into Crowley’s shoulder as another distressed whine escaped him.

“I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out,” Crowley explained gently, rocking him from side to side. Aziraphale nodded mutely against him. “C’mon,” he rubbed the angel’s back. “Sober up and let’s talk. It’ll help. I promise.”

Aziraphale nodded again and, gradually, he pulled away from Crowley and straightened up. A quick squint of exertion crossed his face, and the empty bottles on the table were suddenly filled again (well, all but one, Crowley noted, but that was forgivable given the circumstances). The angel wiped messily at his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep, shuddering breath, and then turned to look uncertainly at Crowley.

“Just tell me what you’re feeling,” Crowley whispered. “Don’t keep bottling it all up.”

Resignation settled on Aziraphale’s tear-stained face and he sighed. He looked away at the floor, hugging at his own arms.

“I feel...” he began, his voice strained like it was a struggle to get the words out. “…humiliated.” He rocked back and forth on the sofa, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his upper arms. “…violated.” He shuddered. “A-And I know I shouldn’t but…” He glanced sideways at Crowley and then back down at the floor, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “…ashamed,” he finished, voice almost a whisper. He covered his face again as another pained whimper slipped from his throat.

Crowley rubbed at Aziraphale’s knee. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” he said. “What they did to you, it was barbaric, a-and senseless, and cruel” - the litany of bastards bastards bastards returned to his head, but he tried not to let the rage carry him away - “and it was not your fault.” He punctuated each word with a gentle pat of the angel’s leg. “Not one bit of it.”

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “I know, I know. It’s not that.” He sniffled again.

Then what? Crowley raised an expectant eyebrow, and waited as Aziraphale gathered himself together again and shuffled on the sofa until he was facing towards him.

“You know, I really thought-” the angel began, and actually chuckled bitterly through the tears. “I really thought that we were the good guys.” He shook his head. “How naïve of me. All those years of loyalty to Heaven, and this is what I get for it. It seems I’ve been well and truly ‘played for a sucker’.”

He looked up at Crowley. “You could always see it, of course.” He sighed ruefully. “I just can’t believe I was ever so foolish as to have-…to have trusted them. I’m just a soft old idiot.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed with a hint of exasperation, squeezing the angel’s hand. “That’s not your fault either. You’re a good person.” He cracked a slight smile. “You are soft, and I love that about you. You see the best in people” - he lifted Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into the tops of his knuckles - “like you did in me. Shame on them for taking advantage of your trust.”

Aziraphale looked unconvinced.

“Can you say it with me? ‘None of this was my fault’?” Crowley pressed.

The angel gulped and stared into Crowley’s eyes, a look on his face like he truly wanted to believe him. “…None of this was my fault,” he repeated quietly.

“And you believe that, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded silently.

“Then…the shame will go away,” Crowley said. “You just gotta give it time.” It would always hurt, of course, but Crowley knew from his own experience that the pain did fade, eventually. He wasn’t about to remind Aziraphale right now that some of this would doubtlessly stay with him forever.

Aziraphale sighed again, deeply and wearily. He glanced over at the once-again-full bottles of wine on the table, but a hint of a frown from Crowley and he stopped reaching for one. “I just want to move on. Forget this ever happened,” he mumbled, waving a hand dismissively.

“…you can’t do that, angel,” Crowley responded, as patiently as he could manage. “It won’t work. We’ll just keep going round the same miserable circle.”

He shuffled closer to the angel again and pulled him into a hug. Aziraphale let him, and curled up close with his head resting heavily against Crowley’s chest. Crowley stroked a hand through his soft curls as he spoke.

“Look, I understand,” said Crowley. “You turn the pain inwards on yourself, because you don’t know how else to survive it. Trust me, I get it.” Aziraphale looked up at him in surprise. “But you have to stop trying to escape all this by suppressing it, angel,” Crowley continued. “If you don’t let yourself feel it, you’ll never be able to move past it.”

The angel looked down and sighed once more. “You’re quite right, of course,” he said quietly. Then his face twisted and another half-sniffle, half-sob left him.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, “for hurting you too. For shutting you out.” He pressed closer into Crowley’s embrace. “I’m a mess.”

“For Satan’s sake, angel, don’t worry about me,” Crowley scoffed softly. A pang of love and fondness joined the ache in his heart as he looked down at the angel. “In fact, don’t you worry about anything right now. I’m here, I’ll look after you.”

He brushed Aziraphale’s hair gently aside, and planted a tender kiss on his temple.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and he smiled - weakly, but, this time, genuinely.

#my fanfiction #rape tw #noncon tw #whump #aziraphale!whump #good omens whump #nsfwhump

[originlist]

and i’ll let you drift around a completely dark, empty space, without anything or anyone to help you. i don’t know how long you’ll last. it could be days, hours, or only minutes... but sooner or later, the cold darkness of space will shatter your spirit, and you’ll be desperate for warmth.

The world closes down to a single point. There is no longer an Ooku, no Kama, no Servants, no Chaldea. The presence of Mash on their comms is tinny and far away, barely distinguishable as anything at all, much less as words. Ritsu’s other Servants have vanished, without a word audible.

Kama claimed this space. The Ooku bends to her will. Ritsu knows this and knows, therefore, she isn’t lying. She’s put them here and she’ll wait.

Just like before, when they were let in here: everything is taken from you and you are alone. Everyone’s gone, that sentence, back in their head. But now, not only is everyone gone, the presence of a ground beneath them is gone, an environment to orient around, anything or anyone.

Everyone is gone, but something tugs at them. They know there is something that shouldn’t ever be separate from them, so they’ll ‘pray’ to it.

“Don’t leave me alone,” Ritsu says, and they don’t know if it’s out loud or only in their head. They don’t think it matters much. “Whatever you do, please, please, don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave.” When a request is made with enough loose power, with enough want for it, it doesn’t require a formal declaration. It’s enough for one of the command seals on their arm to flare and then fade.

That wasn’t necessary. Ritsu wasn’t alone originally, but the presence was faint. Enough perhaps to fool Kama or perhaps enough to show that Kama did have some sway in this place. Whatever it was causing it, it was outweighed by the command seal.

An exhale, soft, like someone is shaking their head, fond and exasperated, at such a request. The presence strengthens, leaning over and dragging Ritsu into it. They can’t see anything and the barely-there air makes them dizzy on top of the headache of mental corruption, but this place isn’t empty.

If it’s not empty, then it’s enough for Ritsu not to give up. They won’t be afraid or let the displacement get to them if this place truly cannot be ‘really empty’. Hands hold them close, protectively, more than should belong to one human (and the presence around Ritsu is not shaped like anything human, but it was never ‘human’ in the first place).

Hands on their shoulder, their cheek, fingers clasping over Ritsu’s own, arms around their middle, something like someone else’s cheek nuzzling against their crown. “i cannot be pried from you. into infinity, from any timeline, you are my creator and my origin is written into you. the thread of karma is sewn into you too tightly to remove. kama’s love (hatred) cannot outweigh mine. as humanity, you will live and be loved and i will not be separated.” This panic that Ritsu has been pushed into is a false result, a thoughtlessness, assuming that a half-mature Beast, embodying the Ooku or not, has enough power to adequately rend the universe.

(Ritsu argues it is a reasonable fear, when this venture all started with Kama taking everyone from them, it makes sense for it to end that way as well.) “I won’t let her win,” Ritsu mutters. They cling tightly to something that may or may not be perceptible. “But I’m scared. I don’t want...” They don’t know what it is they were going to end that sentence with. (Any of this, they don’t want any of this, they didn’t ask to carry humanity and they didn’t ask to be targeted. They didn’t ask to pay the price for someone else’s suffering redirected. They didn’t ask to be stripped of the people they always had at their side. Humanity is a social creature, after all.)

They don’t want it, but it’s their to deal with. Just like the lostbelts. (They remember the first, the difficulty of it like prying teeth, an exhausted hopelessness, and how this place is the same. Worse. They don’t know.) Beast hums. “you will not give up. that is humanity, that loved thing.“ No. They won’t. However much time here passes, however it dilates (it’s been a second. It’s been a day. They don’t know, or know if it matters).

"I won't give up. I still… need to get everyone back. And… Robin." That was the person they're missing. When their own name is up for debate and they can't focus, remember why they need Robin or where Robin has gone, they remember something like this person is necessary.

"yes. a shame, maybe, that kama does take all the fun out of everything." Petulant. Beast is mostly complaining emptily, for the sake of it, a vague lingering bitterness over a thing or two here. Even though vices are so endearing and fun, they can't have any fun with their Master in this place -- Kama really has taken all the love out of the universe, hm. 

(Beast is jealous at her very premise, too-- the universe will be me and the universe will love you (plural), it will love you (individual), excuse her but that position is not going to be given up easily!) “hmmm. you will have to put that command seal back once we return. what is the human phrase? to renew your vows.“ Ritsu manages to almost laugh at that near non-sequitur. It’s a distraction.

Ritsu’s head hurts. Still, it’s fine, it will be... [ ??? ]. They are [ ??? ]. Beast’s fingers smooth over their forehead as they murmur something or other, likely obtuse and ominous, but it eases the pain of mental corruption. (What does it matter who you are or what it is that made you need to fight, so long as you know with certainty that you will fight and you will win and you will not be isolated?)

From somewhere, a faint call that Ritsu can’t hear but makes Beast’s ears prick. Their attention is dragged somewhere, though the hold on Ritsu doesn’t lessen. “scheherazade, that poor fearfulness, is calling for you.” A pause, as Ritsu slowly draws themselves together. “...i am tempted to keep you for myself. as irritating as it is to feel that a gnat like beast iii has a point.”

“Bad joke.”

“mouuu, have faith in your servant having my lord’s interests at heart. i would not go through on it.”

Uh-huh. “Do you know where she is? I can’t move here.” She’s probably scared, too. They’ll have to go find her. Ritsu feels Beast nod and they’re tugged to go somewhere (are they? Without gravity, it’s hard to tell, they can only tell they changed some kind of orientation and direction). A gentle tug toward somewhere, where after time (again, they do not know how long, as if they fade in and out of awareness of their own self) slowly, slowly, Scheherazade comes into focus, dimly lit by her lanterns and with Mata Hari clinging to her arm.

Scheherazade smiles, relieved. “I’ve set up a safe field here. Are you alright, Ritsu?”

A moment to evaluate, a nod. (They do not recognize that name she uses.) “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

#fgo canon: roitsuka was only in empty space for a moment or two #me: wrongeroonie #ritsu's no good very bad ooku #also. kama: its fine im going to be next to every person so just give up and come into me ritsu #beast: OCCUPADO???? MA'AM???? #drabble : ritsu #[ DOURITSU ] karma follows dogged at your heels

[project-sefirot]

Take Away My Halo || Yora || Trial 2 RE: Everyone

For a while, as people clamor for an explanation, Yora simply stands there, letting the tears fall freely.

“I’m sorry… Hatoshima-chan… I can’t lie to them… any more…” she murmurs to herself. 

It is a lull in the conversation. She can’t stand to hear any more debate. To hear them labor in ignorance. They’re dancing around the truth, so gingerly, and all because she had the absolute gall to endear herself to some of them somehow. She has to set the record straight. For Tsugumi’s sake.

Yora Hoshino looks up, raising her hand primly to request the floor.

“…Okay… Everyone… please, let me explain.”

Yora takes a breath and sits up a little straighter. “Hatoshima-chan and I… met for the first time… not long after… the darkness descended…”

Another deep breath. It’s easier to tell the truth than to force lies past the ache in her chest. If the others thought they were putting external pressure on her… the pressure from inside is a thousand times worse.

“I was… too scared of the dark to sleep… I just lay there shaking for hours… It must have been… past midnight… by the time I couldn’t stand it any longer… I wandered out into the halls… I wasn’t expecting another person… but I came across her…”

“We sat and talked… by candlelight… for a long time… until I was tired enough… to return to my room… Even though it was dark… I slept well that night…”

“Isn’t that strange…?” Yora smiles weakly. It hurts to remember that time… but it would hurt more to forget.

“I looked for her… the next night, too… and again… we talked… but it was colder that night… I had to leave sooner…”

“And the next night… colder still…”

She pauses to wipe her eyes. “We knew we had to do something… We knew the temperature… would keep dropping… until it reached… fatal levels…” Another long, shaky breath. “Last time… with the sweepers… when Shuuya-san died… they immediately vanished… Because it was… the same voice that announced this… we both came to the same conclusion…”

She lets that word hang in the air for a moment. You know what conclusion she means.

“…Then came the decision… of who w-would be the s-sacrifice…” She sniffles. “She volunteered… before I could even… think of an argument… for myself…”

She looks down at her hands. The hands that poured the wax for that red candle. A farewell gift to someone who gave up the light forever so everyone else could have it back. The most noble thing Yora Hoshino can imagine.

“…I was the one… who suggested the method… I didn’t… want to hurt her…

"I was the one… who went down to the infirmary… and stole the pills… under cover of darkness… I was afraid… But I had to do it… to bring back the light…”

It’s liberating, not holding it in anymore. Yora was never suited for keeping secrets. Not ones of this nature. It takes a certain kind of hardness… a certain kind of strength… and Yora’s never had any illusions about her own strength.

“I was the one… who cooked the soup…. and poured the pills into it… I was the one… who lit the red candle… I was the one… who burned myself… and dropped the matches in the sink… Clumsy as always, Hoshino…

"Those white gloves were mine.”

She doesn’t look at Kenta as she declares her guilt against his wishes… She can’t face him. She can’t face anyone. So she stares emptily into the middle distance and smiles like her heart isn’t breaking.

“We decided to… keep it a secret… to make it look… like a s-suicide… Hatoshima-chan wanted me to keep going…” Another shuddering breath. Though she’s smiling, it takes all she has not to sob. “But… I’m sorry, Hatoshima-chan… I didn’t have it in my heart… to blame anyone else… I think this job isn’t for me, either… Add another to the list… The very long list…”

She looks up at the big screen, hands clasped together. “Please… don’t give her all the credit… Hatoshima-chan and I worked together to do this… and she can’t be held to account now… I’m the only one left to punish… I should be the one… Only me…”

Don’t take the fall for me, she begs, without the strength to say it. Don’t make this hurt more. Take your light and your heat, and move forward to tomorrow.

“Y-sama… I have a nomination to make.”

#ic #yora #chapter 2 #trial 2 #submission

[normal-goatboy]

“Don’t look at me like that.” for whoever you like!!? :)

“Go,” Hawke tells her.

The girl was afraid, crying and shaking, and Fenris can hardly fault her for that. The mage nearly killed her. Anders, that is, not- Anders would have. He would have if not for-

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Hawke said to her.

She wouldn’t come near him at first. He put down his staff and knelt down and waited, told her everything was alright, that he would help her.

She asked him what was that, what was that, and Hawke said, “Never mind that. That’s- He means well.”

A charitable assumption, and a useless one. People mean well until they don’t. But Fenris said nothing. He said nothing when Hawke reached into his pack and gave her a dagger and a sack of coin. Nothing when he told her to find her family, but not to tell them where she’s going, not to tell anyone.

Now he points and tells her, “Go. Out through that way. It should be clear. Keep your head down and don’t stop.”

She nods, still shaking, but holding herself taller. He tells her to take a breath and she does.

Fenris’ hand is ready at the hilt of his sword. Perhaps adhering to Hawke’s instructions, she doesn’t look at him as she runs past and into the passageway.

Something about Hawke looks wrong in this space; he’s too big, too unkempt for this tidy little courtyard.

He dusts off his knees and says, “Let’s get out of here.”

They follow the girl out, Hawke pausing to watch her weave into the Darktown street.

When they start moving again, Hawke says, “I know, alright?”

“I said nothing.”

“Not with your mouth,” Hawke glances back at him, “but you’ve nearly burned a hole in the back of my head.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. He’s tense, his shoulders are, arms clasped in front of him as they emerge back into Lowtown. He isn’t fond of arguing. He says living with Carver took ten years off his life. In truth, Fenris doesn’t particularly enjoy it either. Hawke’s never given him much cause.

“I can’t believe he was right.”

He means the m-Anders. He means the alleged plot he asked Fenris to help him investigate. “Put the thing to rest,” he’d said. Fenris wasn’t eager to infiltrate the Gallows on what looked to be a fool’s errand, but he was pleasantly surprised to be asked. They hadn’t spoken for a while.

Haven’t. This doesn’t count.

“I wouldn’t say that. The work of one Templar hardly constitutes a plot.”

“But that’s all it took, though, right?” He walks faster, market stalls flying past them; Fenris matches his pace. “You saw the same thing I did, right? What would have happened if we hadn’t been there? What would-”

“And what will happen now?” Fenris snaps. “You are-” he doesn’t say a fool, “naive to think turning mages loose is any better.”

Hawke opens his mouth, gestures emptily in front of him. “Not mages. I- I don’t-” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t send her back there. I just couldn’t.”

They walk close together, voices tense and low, blocking out the crowds.

“Ah, so that’s it. That eases your conscience, does it?”

His tone is irritating. More than that - his gait, the way he’s holding his head. Fenris clenches his fists.

“I don’t know,” Hawke says.

“You don’t know,” he repeats. “That girl - what do you think will become of her? What future awaits her?”

He shakes his head harder, but doesn’t answer.

“Where does she go? Who takes in an apostate? How long before she’s desperate enough to fall prey to a demon? What good has your- your gallantry done her?”

More silence. He’s haranguing him, pushing the argument and he can’t stop now. A shopkeep steps out, trying to draw them in, but meets Fenris’ gaze and quickly retreats.

“Well?”

Hawke slows, sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Whatever happens, it’s better than what was back there.”

“That is… short-sighted, Hawke.”

“I know.”

“And that is to say nothing of your pet abomination.” Fenris regrets using the word pet immediately after he’s spat it out.

They turn a corner. Hawke directs him, fingertips on his elbow, to the side. They stand at the mouth of a narrow alley, Hawke’s back to the wall of an armorer’s shop. He’s close enough to touch, closer than he’s been in a long time.

Facing him, he says, “I’m sorry.”

That’s irritating too, and he doesn’t know why. His face must show it because Hawke’s melts, withers before him. He hasn’t said anything, but he wishes he could take it back.

Fenris steps back, recoils.

“Fenris, I’m sorry. I know this is… a sensitive subject. I wouldn’t have- I wish I’d known what we were getting into.”

Had he known, he wouldn’t have asked him to come along. Fenris stares, disbelieving.

“My not knowing wouldn’t change it.”

“What? No, no- I… No.” He shakes his head again, presses the heel of his palm to his forehead, mutters, “Fuck, I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Fenris says nothing. He hasn’t looked him directly in the face like this for a long time. Maker, he looks tired.

“I didn’t mean I’d hide it. What I meant was, I would have… warned you. That was- I guess I had warning and I didn’t believe it.”

This is a sensitive subject for him too. Fenris says nothing but unfolds his arms.

“You’re right. Everything you said. I know. I know I can’t just walk in and fix it. I just- I couldn’t have done any differently if I’d wanted to.”

They’ve discussed this before. A fate worse than death, Hawke says. He sees his sister, someone Fenris never met but feels like he has. He sees his friends. It keeps him awake at night.

And Fenris sees- he can’t picture it. But he knows who he would see.

“And still, you would have asked me to go with you? Why?”

Hawke squints at him like he’s encountered a trap. “Because I wanted your opinion. I asked for it, didn’t I?”

“You… did,” Fenris concedes, “though you declined it.”

He smiles, a hand in his hair again, sheepish. “Yeah, but - I admitted you were right. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

Fenris doesn’t laugh; he bites it back. Damn you, Hawke.

“I trust your judgement,” he says finally.

Hawke shrugs.

“If you say so, Fenris, then so do I.”

#fenhawke #fenris #fenris x hawke #m!hawke x fenris #garrett hawke #this could have been longer too #idk i just like writing arguments #also this is specifically referencing dissent in da2 #if that isn't clear?

[nightbts]

83 + 24 w/ jungkook?

Prompt: “Stay there.  I’m coming to get you.”+ “Just because.”

Word Count: 2k

Genre: fluff/angst + college au

prompt list :)

—

“Y-you…I-” you croaked weakly, feeling your throat go dry and your chest tighten as your eyes trailed down to the two hands, intertwined with one another tightly.  

Your best friend (now what you’d call her would be various other things) gave you a small smile before shrugging nonchalantly and tugging her boyfriend away from you.

Jimin.

Giving you a gentle smile like always; the very smile that made your heart flutter a billion times, the smile that made your head spin and had thoughts consumed by him and only him, he followed her, each step feeling like a stab to your heart.

Why?

Because you had loved him.

Looking down immediately you could feel your vision quickly blurring, as you shook your head softly, telling yourself this wasn’t it, this just couldn’t be happening.

Not after you had entrusted everything to her, not after you had told her all your feelings for him; how much he made you happy it was crazy, how much it scared you the way you felt for him, how much it killed you he would never feel the same way back.

“Is she kidding me right now-” one of your friends, Yeonso gaped as she looked back at you with worried eyes.

Turning away swiftly, you ignored the confused looks of your other friends who were unaware of the situation, of the secret that you held so dear to you. Clutching your purse so tightly, you were sure there were marks from the way your nails dug into them, simply to keep the tears in your eyes from streaming down your face.

Because as soon as that would happen, it’d all be over.

—

Eyes red, hands cold, heartbroken, you sat at an empty table in front of a small cafe that you’d visit every day after class, a spot you had found one day by accident.

But, that accident that was probably one of the best accidents in your life.

Because that’s where you met one of your closest friends, Jungkook. Peeking through the glass window, your eyes searched for him amongst the crowd of people and waiters who flooded the space when immediately a wave of immense guilt flooded over you. 

You shouldn’t burden him with something like this. The boy was hardly hanging on with the amount of stress he had. Being the star student he was, people mistook him for having it easy when in reality he had worked harder than any person you’d seen in your entire life. Sighing lightly, you started to turn your back around when-ring! ring!

Looking down at your phone in surprise, you saw Jungkook’s name flashing in bright letters, your phone vibrating in your palms, begging to be answered.

Swiping right, you lifted the phone to your ear as you said questioningly, “Jungkoo-?”

“Where are you?” you heard him cut you off, a sense of urgency in his voice that made you blink in surprise, your lips parting as seconds of silence passed.

“Y/N-!”

“I’m at the cafe, the one where you work at-” you started. 

“Stay right there.  I’m coming to get you.”

And with that the phone call ended, leaving you feeling puzzled. Yet a small part of you couldn’t lie when you had felt the tiniest bit of relieved.

In moments like these, you needed someone. No matter who. You needed someone to comfort you, to tell you things would be okay, even if they weren’t. You needed someone to tell you these lies because you couldn’t convince them of yourself.

A couple minutes had passed by, filled with looks of confusion from passing strangers as they saw a girl, wearing a party dress fancy enough to be at a ball, but instead sitting at a cafe table, alone with flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes that stared emptily into the night sky before her. 

However, soon enough you saw a familiar figure walk towards the cafe building. Wearing a black hoodie (one you recognized as the one he wore almost every day to class) with ripped denim jeans and white sneakers, as his eyes met yours he slowly jogged towards you, where you stood up and welcomed him with a small smile, in attempts to cover the broken you on the inside.

“Y/N.” he breathed as he stood in front of you, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. Instinctively, you reached up and quickly wiped it away, laughing softly at him, “Look at you. Did you run all the way here or something? You’re sweating and its the middle of December—J-Jungkook?”

Pulling you into his chest, your eyes widened in surprise as you blinked furiously. Your body froze against his as Jungkook held you tight, his heavy breathing fanning down your bare neck, the feeling sending slight shivers down your body. 

“Jungkook—”

“Don’t pretend to be okay. Not in front of me, Y/N.” he whispered thickly, as his grip tightened around your waist.  

Stiffening at his words, your eyes fluttered close as you shut them tightly, your hands at your sides tightening into fists as the images from before haunted your mind. Willing yourself not to break down, you swallowed the tears back down, you couldn’t cry, you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to be weak, especially in front of him.

Shaking your head, you pulled away slightly as you looked up at him. Putting up a front yet once again and giving him a wide smile, you said, “Jungkook, I’m fine. Everything’s alright-”

Ignoring the way your hands trembled, you clasped them together as you looked down at the ground, your feet rocking back and forth as you bit down harshly on your lip, enough to feel the raw metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

“Yeonso called me. She told me what happened.” Jungkook replied softly, each word making the tears well back up in your eyes. 

Accidentally blinking, the tears fell down your cheeks as you quickly brushed them away, waving your hand nonchalantly, “It’s nothing. It’s not like he would’ve ever liked me anyway, so what’s wrong with him liking h-her.” you finished softly, trailing off with a slight sniffle as your lips trembled lightly.

Staring up at the black night sky above you, you tapped your foot impatiently as you sighed frustratedly to you yourself, your voice cracking, “Come on Y/N, you can’t cry, you can’t-” before looking back down at Jungkook, who simply stared at you, his brown eyes shining with worry and lips parting when you suddenly started to sob.

Knees going weak, you fell to the ground as you laid your head into your hands, your shoulder shaking as you cried pitifully into the silent night.  

“Why am I like this, Jungkook?” you choke out, as Jungkook’s face contorted, his lips quickly pursing into a frown. Crouching down to your level, he unzipped his black hoodie as he wrapped it around your bare arms and pulled you closer to him, holding your head against his warm chest.

Your fingers clutching tightly onto his shirt, you manage in a throaty whisper, “How could she do that to me? I-I didn’t even ask for much did I? I was content with just liking him, no matter how much it hurt, I was still happy.”

Hitting his chest out of the frustration, because you simply couldn’t understand you whimpered, “But I told her everything, I trusted her with everything and she betrayed me. She went for him without even telling me, after I’d loved him for so long.”

“You’re crazy, you know?” she said, shaking her head at you, “There’s no such thing as love, Y/N.”

Raising your brow, you chuckled softly, as you shrugged, “Maybe not for you, but when I look into Jimin’s eyes, I can’t help but think its real you know. He makes me feel like no other.”

Shaking your head, you chuckled sadly, a certain bitterness enveloping around your heart, “This is what I get, don’t I? It’s just my fate Jungkook. I never had luck with love, why now?”

“That’s not true, Y/N.” he whispered. Gently cradling your face in his hands, he wiped the stray tears away as he gazed deep into your big, wide eyes, “You’re just not looking hard enough.” he whispered again, his words slightly ringing through your head.

Searching through his eyes for the meaning behind his words, you tilted your head in slight confusion, “What are you trying to say, Jungkook?” you whispered back, your voice as soft as the quiet chirps from the crickets around you.

Instead of responding in words, he leaned in closer to you, his face stopping mere centimeters from your own face. Your breath stilled as you felt his warm breath fan your face, his eyes nervously flickering to yours before he moved closer and pressed his lips firmly against your forehead.

Eyes fluttering close, your fingers curled in your fists as Jungkook slowly pulled away. Caressing your cheeks softly, you could hear him let out a shaky breath making you realize, it wasn’t just you that day going through that much pain.

The world around you seemed to freeze in time, and as Jungkook held you, your heart swelled in your chest with an unknown feeling, something that seemed to be there all along but only evident to you now. Both of your states of emotion were so raw and pure, to others around you, it would’ve seemed like nothing. But to the both of you, it was a whole new feeling, a change in time, a change in your relationship.

“Give me a chance, Y/N.” he breathed, eyes still closed as he rested his forehead against yours as you laid there, unmoved.

Eyes flying open, you blinked at him as your lips parted in surprise, “I-”

You didn’t even know if you had heard him right. Did Jeon Jungkook, just confess? And that too, to you? 

Shaking your head in confusion, you stammered as you somewhat gathered your words together, “J-Jungkook, I don’t understand? Why me?”

Lips tilting up into a sad smile, Jungkook said, through his tear-glistening eyes, “Just because it’s you.”

“It’s you because you’re Y/N. There’s no reason for it besides the fact that every time I see you, I get so happy a-and my heart just goes crazy in my chest. I just want to hold you close to me and every time you laugh, I want to be the reason for it,” Jungkook exasperated, “Y-Y/N... It just has to be you, because there’s nobody else who makes me happier than you...”

“Jungkook—”

“I know I sprung this on you, and this couldn’t be a worse time, but Y/N please, just give me a chance and I’ll give you everything you deserve because to me there’s nobody else that’s even close to being worth it-”

“I—”

“I just know that I’ll be able to treat you right, I know that you won’t regret it either. Y/N, I know you’ve liked Jimin for so long and—”

“O-okay.”

“—I and- Wait, what?” Jungkook stopped midsentence, his doe-shaped eyes going wide as he stared down at you in surprise.

“I-I’ll give you a chance— Jungkook!” you exclaimed as the boy pulled you up on your feet and immediately spun you around, making you yelp out loud before the stream of giggles erupted within you, echoing through the empty streets.

Crushing you into a hug, his head rested into the crook of your neck as he repeatedly whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Heart softening, you could feel the sudden guilt rise within you as you pulled away slightly and admitted, “But Jungkook, I…I don’t want to lead you on either because I can’t just forget Jimin like that and I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get over him an—”

“I’ll wait.” he blurted, eyes shining with pure sincerity as he stammered, “I-I don’t care if it takes weeks, months or even years for you to forget him and look at me because I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.” 

Even though his words made your heart flutter, the cold breeze around you irrelevant to how warm you had felt inside, you couldn’t help but chuckle, “Even if it takes so long we’re both like 60 years old and I have mad wrinkles, and crazy gray hair?” you mused, to which Jungkook laughed. 

“If you think I won’t, then you’re crazy.” 

“Is that a challenge Jeon?” 

“Guess it is.” 

Laughing at him, you simply shook your head and wrapped Jungkook’s jacket closer to you as you looked back up at him. Returning the smile he gave you, you couldn’t help but feel the slight flutter return, something you already knew would be the start of something new, but something unlike you’d ever had. 

And you’d never been so ready for it. 

#bts #sfwbangtan #jungkook #kwritersnet #btswritersguild #jungkook scenarios #jungkook one shot #jungkook drabble #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

[fifthmanifold]

Iteration One || James and Subject 201

"I'm terribly sorry, but I promise you I couldn't have chosen a better man for the job. I have every confidence you will be fine, and it hardly hurts. Just a little motion sickness." Iteration 2 subject 201, slowly stirred in his restraints, eyes flickering open as he looked around, taking in the contraption around him and the sleeping young lady by the wall. Poor, sweet, Jenna. It hurt him every time she hurled abuse at him, every time she cursed him and accused him of the most heinous of things. She'd understand soon, she was his world. All of this chaos for her. Most fathers would give their daughters the world - James had given her two.

"The fuck?" James' concentration flicked back to his other guest with a smile.

"Good, I'm glad you're awake! I was concerned about the dosage given your mass and I've never tested this on an unconscious person before." James replied, clasping his hands together earnestly, if a little anxiously. His test subjects so far were invariably hesitant and uncomfortable, and often rude. He watched Roger Hawthorne's eyes narrow, looking around, calculating.

“And what, precisely, are you testing?" His voice silk smooth, Roger had a slight southern drawl to it. Unthreatening. For once, someone with genuine curiosity.

"My Can Opener. My second one, anyway, I'm returning you to Ashford! I am conceiving a more creative name for when I publish, but for a common name it's quite-"

"Your second?" Roger interupted raptly. "Did you build one to come here?"

"Yes! It's rather brilliant, isn't it. There was some collateral damage, something I believe was more from this end than mine, but it achieved what it was meant to, and I'm rectifying some of it by sending a few of you back before I go, starting with you." James adjusted his glasses and started adjusting the flux anomalies parameters to his destination.

"Have you factored in my mass to your experiment? You and I are quite different," Roger commented casually.

"Yes, yes, of course. I sent over a wide variety of individuals here, as long as you stay within the alotted space then there will be no issues." "And the restraints to keep people in that space, smart." "Indeed! When I tested on livestock without restraints it was like they were sliced cleaning in two. Most disturbing" Sensibly, subject 201 leant into his restraints, rather than resisting them. "How many other subjects have you found?" James' brow creased. "Because I am attempting to send people back, rather than just accross, I have struggled to find others-" "I know of three thousand." James looked over pensively as Roger spoke, adjusting the spectroflickometer carefully. It was a tempting offer, but... "I also know several people who wouldn't bat an eyelash at this kinda work," Roger continued convincingly, "You're a one man operation, and given you bein' a bit further along than I am, getting people to wherever we are must be hard work."

James considered it. His back ached just from carrying this subject in, and days of manual work had left him aching in places he hoped never to ache again, to have a reliable source of test subjects and help with all this. But his eyes fell on Jenna's sleeping form, and he knew this wasn't fair on her. Sleeping in this dank room, in fear of her life. He needed to get this moving sooner rather than later, and getting another subject to this point would take another week, regardless off assistance.

"It's a gracious offer, but I simply don't have the time," he said, flicking off the safety switches.

"I'm not some goddamn guinea pig," Roger hissed, his face changing from curiosity to disgust in a second, accent dropped and his face angry. One moment he was a pleasant companion, the next he looked like he'd murder James in his sleep. James swallowed.

"Surely you wish to return to your old life? That's all this is. All my previous subjects here were fine." James said reassuringly, double checking the wires for the last time. He'd had to adjust the straps a little but everything was secure and in place. Practically looked identical to his old one, he thought with a smile.

"Don't you dare, don't you bloody fucking well dare! I'll fucking gu-"

James threw the switch. The floor rumbled with a deathly crack, the air hissed like paper burning, and several bangs echoed around the warehouse like firecrackers going off. The Can Opener burned white and James shielded his mouth as a spray of goop  covered him from head to toe.

Screams pierced his ears and a thick stream of blood pooled at his feet. James gently removed his glasses and  wiped away the sliver of bone off the frame, smearing spinal fluid all over the glass. He stared at his creation emptily, the world around him ringing, then violently emptied his stomach onto the visceral mess. It hadn't been supposed to go like that.

#:----) #solo #touchofpotw #gore tw

[thewinsisterchronicles]

He's Not Real- Part Three

Tags: @skeletoresinthebasement @assbutt-still-in-hell @bluecookiesandbooks (send an ask if you’d like to be tagged!)

A/N: I AM SOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY THAT THIS IS UP LATE!!!! I haven’t had much time on my tablet lately, sorry!! Just a heads up, I will be away for a couple days so I won’t be able to post, but I have a bunch of stuff queued up, so hopefully that will make up!!

Part One

Part Two

Sam didn’t even bother trying to listen to Dean for the rest of the car ride. He eventually gave up trying to explain himself to his brother. After twenty minutes of absolute silence, Sam recognized the road leading up to Bobby’s house.

Dean tried to say something again, but Sam was out of the car and walking up the steps before the engine even cut out. He ran up the steps and all but barreled through the door on his way to Y/N.

“Y/N?” he called out warily. When he saw her figure on the couch, he rushed over to her.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, dropping to his knees. His hands waved all over her body uncertainly, never once touching her. He felt Dean- rather than heard him- suddenly behind him, and there was no mistaking the feeling of gut wrenching guilt that seemed to seep out from his eyes that bore onto his little sister.

Sam finally reached out to touch her, brushing away at a hair on her face, when she suddenly lunged at him. With a yelp, he toppled over as she landed herself on him.

“What-” she spat out through her teeth. Blinking slowly, she relaxed her grip on the angel blade shoved against his neck. “Sam? What’re you- oof!”

Y/N didn’t even have time to think before Sam had her in a bone-crushing hug. He sighed in relief that his baby sister was okay, and held her fast.

“I’m not opposed to the bear hug, Sam, but I need to breathe,” she gasped out. He loosened his grip, looking sheepishly at her. “It’s alright. You okay?” Sam glared at Dean, who stood behind her.

“Yeah,” he said stonily, turning back to face her. “I’m fine. Y/N, what were you thinking?”

“Well, I was having a dream about Chris Evans, but you interrupted that, so-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“… Dean told you, didn’t he?”

“I was going to find out eventually.”

“Yeah, but hopefully it was going to be after the spell worked.”

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “It didn’t work?”

“Well,” she squirmed. “Sort of.” Y/N stood up, shrugging off her sweater to reveal her glowing chest. A bright orange pulsed inside of her, stopping just before her neck and shoulders. Sam’s jaw clenched, and Dean stiffened.

“I’m fine, really,” she smiled. “Just feels… different. But I’m fine for the moment.”

Sam dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Sighing, he lifted his head back up and looked at Y/N.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice wavered. His siblings looked at him with caution. “I don’t think the spell worked.”

Sam looked at the figure behind his little sister. Lucifer slowly brought up the knife from her arm to her neck.

“Hey, Sammy,” he smiled coldly. “Miss me? Your baby sis has taken on your memories of me- oh, what fun we’re going to have- but it seems a little piece of me has latched onto you. How sweet.” Then the devil suddenly plunged the blade into her stomach. Blood bubbled around the knife, splattering onto the carpet underneath her. Her eyes only held concern for her brother, though, and perhaps that’s what hurt Sam the most.

Y/N watched as her brother began hyperventilating. She shared a concerned look with Dean.

“Sammy…” Dean said slowly. “Is he still… do you see him?” When he didn’t reply, Dean looked to his younger sister for support. Y/N swallowed thickly. What was she supposed to do? A sob escaped her brother’s lips. She stepped forward cautiously, but he winced as she did. She bit her lip.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, she thought. I was supposed to get the visions. What went wrong?

“Y/N!” Dean snapped at her. She startled out of her trance. “Do something! Nothing I’m saying is working.” She clenched her jaw before opening her mouth.

“Sam,” she started softly. “Sammy, what do you-” Y/N’s voice suddenly cut short. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. A small sob escaped her lips as she looked wildly around her.

The room was suddenly covered in chains, dripping with she-didn’t-want-to-know-what as the room glowed red. Her brother’s bodies were bloody on the floor, but she found herself incapable to move her legs.

“Sam, Y/N!” Dean wavered uncertainly between the two. “What is it?”

As soon as Dean’s hand clasped Sam on the shoulder, Lucifer was gone. He gasped, blinking, before he remembered Y/N.

“I’m fine,” he waved Dean off. He frowned but obliged, stepping slightly away from his brother. Sam turned his attention to his younger sibling.

Y/N was shuddering, trembling in fear at an unknown source. Her eyes, filled with life and joy moments ago, were now hollowed and shallow, sunken into her yellow skin. She seemed so different, so frail, compared to how he normally saw her. It broke Sam’s heart to watch his sister quake before him. Her knees clanked together like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists, a clinkless toast to a speech she would not share in a moment that seemed to drag on for infinity. Her face was pale as the moon outside that lit their sister’s weak frame. Y/N bore eyes that shattered her brothers’ hearts every time they emptily passed over them, searching for a light she could not see. Every attempt to move forwards to her forced a choked sob to tumble from her lips, causing the boys to waver uncertainly between their spot on the carpet and hers.

“Y/N,” Sam began softly. Her eyes snapped to his, glossy and glazed over in fear and uncertainty. It was like she could not see him, but was searching for the source of his voice. Dean looked away.

“Y/N. Do you… do you see him?”

#He's Not Real #He's Not Real series #He's Not Real part three #winsister #female winchester #winchester #sister winchester #sister!winchester #sister!reader #platonic!samxreader #platonic!deanxreader