#but decided ah fuck it ill do it in the next one

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧�� Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[jasontoddspussy]

Tim's Ao3 AU

just got the image of tim writing red hood x oc fanfic but the oc is basically tim/red robin and each time the A/N is like

"sorry no beta im mid-shoot out with some gang leaders atm"

and the content ranges from super fluffy to the most degenerative porn wanting to lick his skull and the authors notes are like

"heey sorry for the slow update i got shot again and im forced on bed rest but now i have an excuse to work on the next chapters!!"

now i want a fic where its like

it gets more and more outrageous, and the comments are just people debating whether its real or not and then there's 1 comment.

that comment is like.

"Pick Up Your Phone, Now. -D"

and tims like

"::) im in trouble::)"

theres one person dissing out the red hood and how he's so terrible and will never actually deserve someone loving him and tim replies with

"Loompa Roompa might malfunction for a while"

and the person is like *how the fuck do you know the name of my roombah what the hell is this why it's been turning on and off at night what the fuck*"

tims username is pretty bird or somth bcs thats what jason called him at least once before and hes like yes i can be pretty and a bird i can be whatever you want me to be

(totes not because thats what jason always calls tim in my head no no)

dick just really, really wants answers but also is deeply, deeply concerned

"tim you had a 20k fic of red hood lovingly taking care of you and hugging you like you'd never been hugged before. are you like, okay?"

"you.. you read all of that?"

"that's besides the point. now answer the question"

"i dont know how to feel about this"

"how do you think i feel? i didnt need to know about any of it"

"and yet you do. curiosity killed the cat, dick."

"alright i wont bother you if you promise to talk with dinah or some jl approved therapist about... the hugging touch starved things. if you dont tho ill just send jason your ao3 account babs said he has one so he can see all your shit'

"i think i would feel better if you just stabbed me"

dick makes a lemon bitten face.

"..."

"..."

"you saw that too, huh."

"yep."

"i dont have a kink for being stabbed. i have a jason fetish. just him and whatever he decides to do to me so dont worry i wont be out getting stabbed by randos"

"I'm glad but also i wanna circle back to the jason fetish part i feel like thats something i should worry about"

20k fanfic where tim just rants about jasons soft hoodie

jason, meanwhile, he sees someone w the username idk PrettyBirdRedHoos in his comments and hes concerned someone figured out he was robin but goes to look and this persons bookmarks are all just fics written by a 'PrettyBird" user and all of them are red hood/oc, and some of them is like; piercing kink, some of them are 20k fics where the oc falls asleep wearing their hoodie, one of them is a very specific scenario where the red hood 'playfully attacks' the OC on top of a tall building and they fuck nasty and jay is like

this. is too detailed. to be a coincidence innit.

and the comments are just people debating how real these scenarios are and every single person that disses RH has something hacked or exposed and jays like 'ah. well, timmy certainly has a hobby."

he could tell him that he knows.

he could also choose to be an absolute tease. forget a hoodie there, wear some bootyshorts here, not wear a binder while wearing a tank-top here, spit out a specific phrase tims used in a fic before just to keep him on his toes. it's fun watching him squirm.

[activesplooger]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 | 𝐻𝒶𝓏𝒷𝒾𝓃 𝐻𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓁 | 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻

Notes: hiii <3 i hope ygs like this!! im not great at fluff, ill admit BUT lucifer is j so babygirl so it turned out pretty cute!! im writing this fresh out of a writing block so sorry if it isn;t my best, i promise ill do better luci fics in the future!! <33

Summary: You made the drunken choice of sleeping with your friend, whom you've always had a crush on. It's the morning after and your mind races with the possibility of this being a one-time deal. However, Lucifer makes it clear that he's in this for the long run...

CW: fluff!!! (angst just a weeee bit)

Word Count: 1,184 (bit of a short one)

Masterpost!

Sunlight light filters through the blinds of your window, effectively waking you up from your slumber. You groggily sit up, putting a hand to your throbbing forehead. "Ughh..." you groan as you feel the effects of a hangover coming along.

Last night, you and your friend went to the bar for drinks and a general catch-up on life. The two of you had way too much to drink and got absolutely wasted. Friendly flirting turned into drunken caresses and somehow escalated into Lucifer pressing you against the wall of your apartment as you made out. And now, you're here. Yeah, it was kind of a blur...

You turn to look at the space next to you on your bed. Empty. "Fuck" you mutter, dragging a hand down your face as you try to process everything. He had left. Shit, what'd you expect? You try to downplay it as another meaningless one-night stand, but truthfully, you hoped this was more than a brief sexual connection. Your feelings for him got the better of you last night, and now he's gone...

At least with the one-night stands, they gave enough red flags to give you an idea of what you're getting into. But Luci? He's such a sweetheart, well, you thought he was... He'd always do sweet little gestures: hugging, making plans to hang out, complimenting, gifts, favors- the whole 5 love languages! Was this all just friendly behavior? You were sure he at least had some type of feelings for you. Maybe it was just sexual attraction. Still, Lucifer seemed different than the others.

Letting out a grumpy whine, you hop out of bed and slip on a robe and slippers. As you stand up, you get the faint whiff of- pancakes? Curiously, you step out of your room and peek into the kitchen.

To your surprise, you see Lucifer standing at the stove, humming the tune of a song while flipping a pancake. He slides the pancake off the pan and onto a plate. He repeats this process until he makes a stack of pancakes topped with butter, syrup, and whipped cream. You continue to watch the angel from the doorway, still not believing that he really stayed.

Lucifer picks up the plate and turns around. His eyes fall on you as he turns, your presence catching him off guard. "AH!" he shrieks, losing his grip on the plate before grabbing it back. Sighing in relief, he smiles at you, "Ah, there you are, my dear! How'd you sleep?". Still in shock that he didn't leave, you manage to murmur, "You're still here...?".

"Yes?" he replies, head tilting in confusion, "why would I leave?". "Well, I thought you would've-" you start to explain, but you decide against it. His little heart would prob break if he knew that you thought he'd leave, “Never mind. A-anyways, what's that you're making?”.

The angel looks up at you with a soft smile as he holds out the plate to you, “Pancakes.”. Taking the plate from him, you look down at the food. The pancakes were light and fluffy, perfectly cooked to a golden brown with neatly placed toppings. “Thank you, Luci…”.

Walking toward your kitchen table, you take a seat. Lucifer grabs his own plate of pancakes and quickly follows behind you, sitting beside you.

The room fell silent, the only sounds being the clanking of cutlery and the soft sound of chewing. Your mind was too busy trying to comprehend the fact that the angel wasn't being a total dick to you right now. Your eyes stay fixed on the plate below you, afraid that if you look up, he might take a second look at you and leave... Do you deserve his kindness? You sure felt like you didn't. But here you are, eating pancakes with the most beautiful angel in creation.

You finally pry your eyes away from your plate and look up at him. He's humming the same tune from before while eating his pancakes. There's a gleeful smile on his face that you can't help but admire. He's absolutely ethereal. Looking at him brings you out of your state of self-doubt and builds a determination in you to fight for this angel. You didn't want for him to go, and you were gonna do everything you could to make sure he wouldn't. Something in your gut told you to hang onto this one.

Suddenly, Lucifer's eyes meet yours, a cheeky grin stretched across his face, "See somethin' you like~?". Ah shit, your little staring session was interrupted! Pink dusts your cheeks as you feel your face getting hotter. You struggle not to stumble over your words, "I- Uh- Well-." A giggle cuts you off, "Don't be so embarrassed! It's cute.". Exhaling softly, you softly smile at him. He thought you were 'cute'...

You go back to eating your pancakes, the word 'cute' repeating in your mind as you relish that he thinks of you like that. Smiling to yourself as you eat, you suddenly feel a pair of eyes on you. Lifting your head up, you make eye contact with Lucifer. The angel beams at you, but there's a mischievous element to his expression. Swallowing your food, you ask, "What's that look for?".

Lucifer gets up out of his seat and rushes toward you. He lifts you up effortlessly and carries you across the room. When you try to protest, all you get in response are giggles. Stopping at the couch, he gently tosses you down on the cushions. You speak between amused laughter, "Pft, what the hell are you doing?".

Lucifer leaps onto the couch and onto you, his arms wrapping around you and flipping the both of you so that you're on top of him. A small "Umph!" escapes your throat as he lands on top of you, but you melt is his embrace as your laid on top of him.

"Soooo," he begins, "Here's what I was planning...". You tilt your head up at him, listening to what he has to say. " First, eat a delicious breakfast, check," his hands tangle in your hair, playing with the silky strands as he speaks, "Thennn, I was hoping- I-If you're up for it, of course! Maybe we could go for a walk in the park and grab lunch?". Lucifer scans your face for your reaction, panicking a little as he wheezes, "U-Uh unless you have plans! Oh God-".

"You want to?" you ask softly. "Well, of course. You're lovely..." he admits sheepishly. You feel a grin creeping out through your teeth. Before, you were worried that he wouldn't stay- Now you're not sure if you could get him to leave! (not that you wanted to of course). Nodding your head, you agree, "Of course, that sounds great!".

The rest of the day goes great! You both finally have a sober talk about your feelings for eachother, getting your feelings off your chest. The two of you spend the rest of the day together, cuddling, going out for lunch, and ending the day off with a bit of 'intimate time'. <3

--

<333 enjoy! i love him sm akfiuefhiuswfwenfwnfkwef. this isn't edited. i finally sat my ass down and wrote again so yayy!!!!

[ruruvxz]

“10:36”

Girlfriend!Kim Minji x Cheater!Reader

ft. Marsh Danielle

↳ synopsis: L/N Y/N, named one of the sweetest girl in the planet finally rots her girlfriend’s heart. Any sane person would feel sad, maybe even a little regretful and accommodating for all their wrong doings. Not Y/N though, she's kept it in for a long time, her heart has gone bitter and cold, and she knows what she’s doing is wrong, but who can blame such a sweetly wretched heart.

↳ cw: cheating, commitment issues, morally gray reader, codependency, Minji is lovesick and blind, hurt no comfort, reader has implied chronic depression, victim blaming, swearing, pure angst

↳ word count: 4.6k

a/n: read this Karina fic where she kept cheating on me… which gave me an striking idea, mentally ill, unapologetic, rude and overall not a good person, Reader! anyways you don’t need to listen to 10:36 but I highly recommend listening to it since it’s such a great song. And yes I am personally beefing with Y/N even if I wrote them (fluff ver. apple cider)

Your eyes looming to the TV, not paying attention to whatever was playing. I mean you couldn't concentrate due to your phone blowing up, notification after notification of all your failed hookups barking at your phone like a rabid pack of dogs. God, do people know when to shut up nowadays? It was aggravating how much they pleaded for closure, and who were they to demand that from you? You're the sweet innocent Y/N L/N after all.

Before you even got to text them back some bullshit excuse your eyes darted to the front from the sudden click. You carefully examined the door pushing it open at an agonizingly slow pace, sighing as your eyes met Minji's as she slid her way inside, her eyes bagging with how deeply exhausted she was. She meets your blank stare with a meek smile, pushing down any emotions built inside of you after your recent rendezvous with another lover, you put on your best fictitious grin.

"Baby!" You cheered, getting up from the leather couch, the same one Minji gifted you when you both first moved in with one another. Quickening your pace as you ran towards her, wrapping your arms around her neck, Minji was left letting out a coy smile before kissing your cheek. Usually, she would be greeted by another empty living room with the kitchen light dimly lighting the surrounding vicinity, it was depressing but she had a 9/5 and you took the night shift. (Or that's what you would tell her.)

Needless to say, seeing your bright smile was more than pleasant, her overworked eyes lightening up as you continued to hug her. "Ah, bug, you're still here?" She smiled hugging you tighter, grasping you almost as if you were to disappear at any moment in time. As you both stand in each other's embrace your mind couldn't help but let your mind drift to someone else.

"Fuck, I wish Danielle was here with me..."

You knew how terrible it was to imagine someone else's grasp, especially since you were imagining your girlfriend's best friend of all people... And to be frank, there was no other valid explanation for feeling this way. But you felt so devoid of any strong emotion, it truly made you feel disgusted with yourself but what could you do?

Minji softly grabbed a piece of your hair to stroke before you eventually led her over to the couch to spend some quality time with her. I mean, that's the least you could do after what you went off doing while she wasn't home.

Danielle messaged you late last night wondering if she could plan an outing for the next day, and you (not-so) hesitantly agreed to her offer. It was a terrible thing to do since you've already learned about her immature crush on you, but it wouldn't lead to anything, right? Nevertheless, you still decided to get lunch together, and she brought you to your favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. (Not exactly, in reality, it was something you despised because it was the only restaurant Minji would bring you time and time again. Danielle, and many others, were under the assumption it was somewhere you LOVED going to. And who could blame them, you would always post photos promoting the establishment whilst hiding out Minji from any photo.)

It was a fusion restaurant, but the overall atmosphere was an American-style family diner. The ones you'd see in 80's sitcoms that Minji begged you to watch with you, it was tacky, but they stayed engraved in your head. Danielle would drag you to the table nearest to the window to get the clearest view of the sky, but you'd much rather sit in the booth in the corner, hidden away from the world. Of course, of how accommodating Danielle was she gave in to your request, despite that hiccup the day "outing" continued as scheduled. Eating her meal she ordered claims that the burgers are "The best she's ever had since moving from Australia" but in reality, you think it's nothing special.

You ordered the same thing you usually do, carnitas tacos messily plated on a plastic dish, it usually tasted so bland though somehow sharing it with her tasted so much better than eating it with anyone else. You hated to admit it because you already had someone waiting for you at home but she made the world stop for a bit, made staying still for a moment seem so... bearable. For once in your pathetic existence you felt like you understood something and just wanted to sit down and talk.

"Mmm, Y/N—it's really good!" Danielle spoke up, parts of her burger decorated the corners of her face as she munched. Laughing at her childlike behavior you wipe the excess crumbs off her mouth, noticing her slight blush plaster across her face as you pull back to speak.

"Mhm?" You replied turned off your phone and flipped it over on the table giving her your full attention. Her voice was just too adorable to ignore. You knew you found yourself despicable for giving her more attention than you had given Minji for the past few months. But you couldn't stop yourself, it was so lonely and you just needed a warm body to hold, just until your girlfriend could come back to you.

She nodded her head hurriedly before shoving another fry into her mouth before she spoke once more. "Yup!! Look open your mouth" She'd pick up the fries and line it up up to your mouth, cautiously leaving your mouth agape before she shoved the fries into your mouth. It surprised you how fast she inserted it into your mouth you started aggressively coughing before she apologized profusely.

After your little outbreak, you start laughing uncontrollably at how concerned she looked, she whacked your head from the other side of the table while you continued to laugh. But you didn't have the heart to tell her that the fries she force-fed you tasted like generic McDonald's fries but, with that face, could you say anything? Danielle looked so captivating, an allure you hadn't felt in months, and before you knew it it was already 8:14. Minji comes back at 9 and you shouldn't risk coming home late AGAIN.

"Ah, I'm so sorry Dani, it's already so late, I need to be home at 9." You commented cutting her story off short about how she met up with a coworker of hers during some mindless shopping spree. She looked understanding but disappointed nevertheless as she was hoping she could spend more time with you even if it was in this cramped restaurant.

You looked into her eyes once more before getting up to take your leave, she looked stumped but quickly regained her composure as an idea flashed across her mind. "Okay! I'll drop you off at the train station then!" She stood up and let her hand out for you to grab. Once you stood up she interlocked your fingers together, your heart beating out of your chest as she did. What person would react like this to a friend, let alone someone who was in a relationship, but god were you one sick bastard to reason with yourself? You knew you'd done worse with others so why was this any different?

After minutes of slow walking and talking mindlessly with one another you finally arrived at the station, it was a tad disappointing but you knew it had to end soon. Climbing up the stairs your hands continued to lock in with one another, you felt her suddenly yank away. Turning back to see what happened you noticed one of her heels came off, but coincidentally your train just arrived.

"Oh Y/N go on, I'll get on the other one, it's just another 10 minutes!" She defensively said. Instead of listening to her you ran down the stairs and grabbed her heels, even if you were struggling a little bit to get back up you were happy to help her. You handed her back her heel as you heard the train plow through once more, the screeching metal tracks lingering as it drove off.

Danielle looked down at you as you handed her the heel with a worried face, she looked so bothered but you reassured her. "Even if the train leaves, it's worth it, it's worth waiting for you" You smiled before grabbing her hand once more and dragging her back up to the platform, the light-dark enough to cover her red face.

"Y/N" She laughed as she dropped her bag and hugged you tightly, her embrace was soft and loving you didn't want to leave it. (Nor do you deserve such an affectionate interaction.) You broke the hug before she led you to a, presumably empty, seating area, the sunlight dropping and sinking. While you sat there together Danielle was content sitting down with you in complete silence as it meant being by your side.

"I'm sorry for making you wait." She sighed awkwardly trying to break the silence you created, her body immediately straightened as you rested your head on her shoulder. Her breath hitched as you grabbed her warm hands, the nightfall being significantly colder.

"It's fine that we have to wait, I love you." You trailed off, your mind not proceeding with the bullshit you slurred out of your mouth. It was a force of habit, no matter if it was Danielle or Minji, those stupid strings of words haunted your every moment. (Maybe if you were a little cautious, if you learned to shut your mouth maybe you wouldn't have to be calling people at night while Minji was in deep sleep, explaining in slurred words "I have this thing where I— I can't be by myself— but look...")

The memory of what you accidentally slipped up to Danielle came back to haunt you, why would you ever say that, but regardless you couldn't break your facade now, not with Minji resting quietly on your lap. "How was your day love" You twirled her hair as she dozed off by your touch, she was so soft and delicate. It reminded you of how she'd do the same after a long day, her hands caressing your head like a dog. She was silent but that's who she was. As you ran your hand through her jet-black hair, you were all over he, losing yourself, all before she snapped you out of your daze to speak. "It was okay, but great now that you're with me." She smiled underneath you, she reached her hand above to your face to caress your mellow cheeks, and your heart ached as she did so.

"How was yours, my dear?" She lifted her head dragging you a bit down to intertwine your lips tenderly, as she pulled back and laid back down on your thighs you felt your teeth sink into your lips. It was a force of habit but thank god she hadn't noticed as her head was locked into the TV, you felt yourself about to throw up at the idea of telling her what you did. As usual, you tried to play off what happened this afternoon like nothing happened.

Your hands shook as you continued to play with her hair wondering what lies you would spit through your teeth. "Mmm, nothing much I hung out with some friends then went back home to wait for my wonderful girlfriend." You beamed smiling hopelessly to not break the persons you've created.

"Friends, who? I'd love to meet them." She chuckled, turning her head back to meet your gaze, your hands slowly lifting up and away from her head. You rested them on the armrest, coughing at the thought of her finding you were out and about with her best friends who she didn't even know you talked to.

"Just Dani! She's asked me if she wanted to get lunch with her." You answered honestly, if you hadn't you knew you'd just dig yourself a deeper hole and lead to another heated argument, where you'd end up running off to sleep the night somewhere else.

"Oh." She scoffed, the realization of her best friend and her girlfriend being closer than she'd expected hurt her feelings a little more than it originally should've.

"What's wrong with that." You bite back, annoyed about how sassy she was becoming day by day, as if you were doing something— someone, she wasn't aware of.

"It's just... didn't know you were close with her like that." She raised her body from my lap and sat properly looking me in the eye, clearly annoyed by the situation. (To be fair, as hard as you tried to be sneaky with your late-night affairs, by claiming you had a night shift, she picked up on your inconsistencies fairly quickly. How you'd leave either before she arrived or after she slept became more and more oddly suspicious. Or how you'd often slip your phone away to your back pocket whenever she came closer to you. It was all messing with her brain and the sudden "connection" you had with Danielle made her more and more suspicious.)

"I guess but isn't, Dani—Danielle one of your closest friends, yet you talk shit like this about her?" You retorted, trying to hide your offense terribly at her statement, of course, she didn't mean any harm with what she said but it felt as if she was insinuating something. Something you didn't like. You took off your gaze from hers as you rested your head on your palm and raised the volume of the TV to drown her out.

Rightfully annoyed at your reaction she raised her voice just a little bit. "Well sorry, I'm sorry I feel uncomfortable by the fact you chose to get lunch with my friend, instead of your girlfriend!" She rolled her eyes and folded her arms, her frustration was enough to cause global warming. You bite your tongue once more, you didn't want to say anything you regretted but you couldn't just let her take a jab at you without any conviction.

"I mean, she didn't do anything to you? Yet you're being so aggressive." You replied as you grabbed the remote with your free hand to skim through the channels, every new show being broadcast made you even more aggravated. How could there be nothing good showing? You mashed the next button again and again as you heard her open her mouth once more.

"That's not what I meant it's just, for the past few months you've cared about going out with me? Sorry for feeling like that's so terrible!" She scorned as you still didn't pay any attention to her, continuing to skim through the shows on air today. You pushed your tongue to the inside corner of your cheek before you asserted another retort.

"Maybe if you weren't always so defensive and angry I would hang out with you" You laugh sarcastically under your breath annoyed, and you finally landed on Law & Order. It was Minji's comfort show but you couldn't care less about what she liked right now, all you wanted her to do was pipe down and calm down. She clenched her jaw at how dismissive and disrespectful you were, the fact you weren't even looking at Minji added more salt to the wounds.

She grabbed your shoulder yanking you hard enough to look at her, you paid her one single glance before swatting her hand away from my shoulder. She looked dumbfounded, as for the first time in her life she finally raised her voice, this time with real intention to get off on you. "What the fuck— Y/N! What is up with you recently??"

Oh, she's testing you right now, your blood pressure has risen significantly and you felt it harder to focus on what they were saying in the show. Finally giving in you pushed your head to lock into her enraged state. "You know what's fucking 'up with me' it's your attitude? I can't even hang out with my friends anymore?"

Minji was most definitely fed up at this point as she stared back at you, clenching her fist, stopping her from saying something atrocious. "Oh no you DEFINITELY can, you know what you can't do? Fucking leave your girlfriend in the middle of the night saying you have a night shift and leave me alone in our bed!" She spat out as she stood up trying to get that notion into your thick skull.

"I'd rather be in someone else's embrace than be with yours! FUCK, you're so fucking suffocating!" You shouted back, quickly regretting what you said, realizing a little too late that you had released a bit more information than you were trying to let on. But before you could take it back and apologize she was already standing over you, her hands covering her mouth.

Minji’s jaw unclenched, processing every word that came out of your mouth. "What." Her voice sounded shaky, she tried her hardest to sound stern but you knew her long enough to know it was just a facade. Her face turned into someone who had just been told their loved one died, completely and utterly in disbelief.

It hurt seeing Minji so hurt, but it felt so good to get that out of your chest, she's been suffocating you for a year now, she should know where you’re coming from. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on staying for fairly long but after moving in with her it became harder to leave. "Fuck. It’s just—" You stopped before continuing “I wanna love you but I'm scared so I rather pretend”  You stood up and turned your body away from her, you didn't want to look at her at all. If you did, maybe you’d just run back by her side and then the cycle continues once more.

She covered her face between her palms, and looked up at the ceiling, just praying she'd wake up from this sick and twisted dream. "Y/N, please tell me. Are you?" She mumbled underneath her hands, but enough for me to tell what she said.

"Am I, what? Am I cheating on you?" You turned back at her with a disgusted face, not at her, but at yourself, you couldn’t fathom how you’d do something like this. After all, you experienced the same thing. You felt sick to your stomach but you knew she should already puzzle the answer together, yet she's still trying to ask.

"Just answer the fucking question" Her voice bubbling up with rage, after all the years of committing herself to you, you turn your back and do this? Oh how badly she wanted to make your life miserable after this. But a part of her didn't want to ask this question, she wanted, somehow, someway, you would turn a full 180 and tell her this was all some sick twisted joke.

“Fuck you Y/N… truly, fuck you— you kept me like a secret but I kept you like a fucking oath.” She spat out, grabbing out to you, the weight of your actions felt like a knife digging itself deeper into your heart. You were too cowardly to look at her, let alone answer her question. For someone so confident about cheating on her, you know stood in front of her unwilling to face the consequences.

"I—“ You cut yourself off, you did feel awful as you stared into her fiery gaze, but what was the point she already knew? "I’m so sorry.” You blurted out, it honestly came out as a statement then it did an apology, and by the looks of it, she looked even more infuriated.

"FUCK Y/N, PLEASE JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" She screamed at you, making you jump a little, but with your broken ego, you weren’t going to take that, with crossed arms you announced your wholehearted answer.

"Yeah, I did, and it wasn’t with Danielle. Don’t worry about her…" You bitterly bit back trying to get it in through to her, you were truly so despised at this moment, but to save face you preached some half-assed excuse.

"You know Minji, it isn’t my fault— You're selfish, how do you not get it. For as long as I remember you've only ever thought about yourself." You said, leaving Minji to stand in utter anguish at the shit you were spewing. How could she be the selfish one? You bit back your tongue before realizing this was probably the only moment to let out everything you’ve built up over your whole relationship.

"I reach for you and you’re not there, I'm so fucking numb but you don't care. A part of me feels for you, but it hurts, it hurts so much." Her stare etching deeper into your mind, she didn’t bite back, but you could see through her fuming portrayal that tears were pooling from her eyes.

"enlighten me, my dear, why am I still here? Why did you even— why did you even pick me? You don't talk to me, you never want to talk about anything and you’re always just with Hanni. I know you're confused and hurt, but when I needed a warm body to hold, you were never there. And when you where you wanted too much from me— I didn’t know how I could give you everything" You inched closer to her wiping the tears off her face, she placed her hand on top of yours. Maybe this was the only emotionally intimate time you both had in months. As you rested her hand on her plush cheeks, you took a moment to appreciate her beauty one last time, she was gorgeous, undoubtedly, gorgeous.

(You couldn’t admit to yourself that this reminded you about the first time you met, your eyes locked with hers as she stumbled out of another stress-inducing meeting. She looked so out of it so you graciously offered her your apple cider, under the pretense that it was apple juice. You examined her as you were a bit surprised a young girl like her was working this late into the night, it was already 10:36. You looked back at her while stopping to laugh loudly as her eyes winced while chugging down your drink. She looked so annoyed but somewhat happy she met you, her drowsy eyes lighting up as you offered to get her an actual drink at a nearby bar. You had a bad habit of analyzing her, her hair smelt like a sweet fruit punch, and her smile was so infectious.

You remember holding her face just like this as you led her back to her apartment, she looked dazed out of her mind as you pulled her on her leather couch to rest. In a drunken state, she commented on how she liked your hair and pulled you down into her lap to play with it. You couldn’t stop your face from heating up but she didn’t happen to notice, she looked down at you and complimented the jacket you wore. So after that you always wore it, and even at this exact moment, you were wearing that stupid jacket once more.)

"I didn’t— as much as I hate you right now maybe we just got lost in translation… no— maybe I asked for too much." She weakly smiled biting back her rage while staring deeply at you.

"I've done the math there's no solution, we'll never last, I’m so sorry Minji, there’s just no universe where I can see our happy ending." Minji closed her eyes, biting her lips, maybe she already lost you, or maybe she never had you in the beginning, but all she knew this would be your last moments holding each other. Your heart constantly aching throughout the whole ordeal, as she leaned her head closer to yours your lips slowly touched, having one last passionate kiss, until you broke it up. Minji looked at you with sorrowful yet entrancing eyes as she connected your foreheads, forcing you both to lie in the moment.

"in the morning you're not in my bed, I'll just sleep until I fall dead, my love" She joked weakly as you intertwined your lips together once more before letting out a deep sigh. "I guess this is where you get your stuff and leave, Y/N" She pathetically laughed and more tears streamed down her face.

"Yeah, don't worry I'll be gone by tomorrow..." You turned away taking a breather, before taking one last look at the living room that we had built together. The walls were decorated with inside jokes and pictures you took together, you inspected every one of them, knowing she’d probably throw them out later on in life. Your eyes landed on the coffee pot she gifted you on your anniversary, she built it during her pottery lessons to surprise you, it didn’t work so well, but it was cute. You sigh as you look at the pictures all from different occasions like when you celebrated your first Christmas with her, or when she met your parents, the memories of each decoration hitting you like a train.

"Where are you going to go?" She asked trying to figure out where you’ll run off to now, you laughed for a moment, before looking back at her. Her hands balling up as she awaited your answer, you cupped her face again and smiled at her question.

"Probably crash out with my ex-roommate if she still has a spare room somewhere."

"Oh, uhm…" She laughed elegantly and hugged you tightly not wanting to let you go. "I'll drop you off wherever— whenever you need to go, just please stay with me tonight. It's only…” She trailed off looking at the clock.

“10:36,” You both say in unison.

guys count how much I referenced other songs… anyways back to writing fluff im literally started to tweak out

[d33pd3sire-blog]

A Kiss A Day Keeps The Doctor Away.

PSA: this is my first fanfiction in a decade, pls be gentle <3

Warnings: Could be kinda smutty if you squint. Injury (nothing explicit). Dom Emily. No use of Y/N!

Context: Reader gets hurt in the field. Once Emily knew you were going to be okay, she gave you the silent treatment. No talking, no glances, nothing the whole ride home from the hospital.

As you both stand at the front door of your apartment, Emily is rummaging through her bag to find her keys. Neither of you have spoken in a few hours, both of you as stubborn as the other. After a few seconds of Emily struggling to find her keys, you huff and pull yours out, unlocking the door. You put your arm out to let her go first, but instead, she grabs your arm and drags you in.

Emily takes you to the bedroom to make sure your bandages are still okay. As she undress you slightly you get a little frustrated from the silence.

'Em, will you please say something?' you sigh.

'No.' She says, without looking up at you.

'The doctor said you have to stay off of your leg for at least a week. You're going to follow the doctors orders, correct? Or are you going to ignore them like always?' Emilys tone meant she wasn't even slightly amused.

You open your mouth to argue something back but decide against it. You choose the gaslighting route and bite your lip. 'It's really not that bad..'

'Don't.' She spits, not falling for that. 'You will follow the doctors orders.' She rewraps the bandage.

'Understood?'

The dominance radiating from Emily is intoxicating, you start to enjoy this side of her. You look up at her, as if in a trance.

'Is that an order?" you bite your lip, looking at her through your eyelashes.

She raises an eyebrow at you for a moment. Considering what way she wants to take this. 'Thats an order. You will rest until the Doctor says you're okay. Got it?'

You tap your chin in an over exaggerate way, as if you're thinking for a second. You give a cheesy grin and then adds 'Ill do it on one condition.' You take her hand and sit both of you down on the couch.

'Oh?' As she sits, she crosses her arms and stares for a moment, raising both of her eyebrows at you.

You tilt your head slightly, looking from Emilys lips to her eyes again. 'Kiss me?'

She blushes slightly at the request and clears her throat, trying to stand her ground. 'You're going to follow the doctors orders in exchange for a kiss?' She asks, making sure she heard you right.

You know what you're doing to her.

'Well, maybe a few kisses to keep me in check for the next week.' You lean closer to her, you can feel her breath on your lips. 'Its up to you.' You smile.

Emily lets out a soft sigh, fighting the urge to have you right here and now. She leans a little closer, mad at you for turning the attention away from your injury. Her mind is racing, she wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss her.

Before you knew it, her hand was resting on your neck and her lips had landed on yours. You melt into her touch, her hand placement driving you crazy. Emily notices this and deepens the kiss, leading to a moan escaping your mouth.

Your moan was enough to get Emily's blood rushing. She holds the back of your head gently, as she moves to get into a better-

'Ah shit!' you hiss, the movement from Emily causing a sharp pain from your leg.

The unexpected jump from you getting hurt pulled Emily out of the trance. She looks at you full of worry and looks down, checking your leg. 'Fuck! Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Im so sorry!' You can see her mind is going to the worst places first.

'Babe, babe, its okay. Im okay, it was nothing' You try to hide your pain and give her a small kiss. She hesitantly returns it.

'I love that you care,' you smile at her and start to play with her shirt.

Emily rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile at your statement. 'I'll be here everyday to make sure you're not on that thing. Okay?'

The idea of your girlfriend being here everyday to give you kisses makes your heart swell. 'They do say a kiss a day keeps the Doctor away.. Or something like that.' You both laugh a little.

[esggs]

Accurate!Gojo Satoru has been trying his level hardest the past half an hour and yet–and yet– he just cannot get it up.

Pretty dress, gorgeous. Can I take a closer look? Dashing man, albino hair and teeth stained red, black, green, blue under the club lighting. Angelic. Preferably back at my place? 

“You’ll have a good time, my ass.” Gojo imagines you mocking him in your head. Deservedly, he’ll grant, he did talk up a big game, all the teasing and squeezing and grinding and kissing up until he actually had to perform. 

“Should I go down on you again? That seemed to help.” Your smile makes his face burn even more. So sweet, so genuinely helpful. 

“Yeah…” 

Your hair brushes his thighs as you lean down to softly thumb down his foreskin off the tip, pressing kisses to his length and baby-licks against the slit. It feels really fucking good; Gojo can’t help groaning at the first contact, it’s just– 

What? What is it? You’re dripping sex on legs, hotter than he deserves– the cowlick at your nape, the blush on your cleavage, the juicy fat of your thighs, your drooping eyes, you get him choking on his breath. His Six Eyes tell him it’s safe, you have no hidden weapons nor ill-intentions to kill him the second he lets all his Infinity down (let’s be honest, you couldn't either way). Nor is there a sniper on a roof waiting to shoot him through the window. No recording devices, no bombs planted in this hastily-rented hotel room (not that he can stop checking every 5 minutes). So what is it?

“I’m sorry.” You abandon your efforts for a moment, looking up with those kohl-rimmed eyes. “It’s really not you, you’re gorgeous and I mean it, it’s just–” There’s no trace of the cocky playboy you assumed he was back at the club. He’s stuttering for God’s sake. “I– I just can’t relax.” 

“Ah!” It’s clearly not something you’ve ever faced before. Obviously not, man, look at her. “Um, do you want a smoke… or, uh–”

“No, sorry, I don’t smoke. Or drink. My job’s kinda hectic, so I need to be on call 24/7, always prepared, you know?” Not a lie per se. It’s just difficult to bring up that you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerer on the planet when your disappointed one night stand doesn’t even know about jujutsu in the first place.  

“This is a first.” You cock your head at him, still smiling. “Never met anyone so high-strung they can’t even get hard, let alone smoke.”

It’s normal behaviour for 20 year old young men, especially the rich and the handsome ones such as he, to go to the club, party, pick up chicks, have wild sex, walk of shame the next morning. He’s seen it in movies. He’s heard his peers share their experiences. Just one night of normal, he’d told himself, then back to being Gojo Satoru. 

Mr. Gojo Satoru’s foray into normal human behaviours has been officially an embarrassing flop. 

“I can pay for the Uber.” There’s no saving the situation. His dick– no, penis, he decides, it doesn’t deserve an honourable name anymore. His penis doesn’t look like it'll rise to the occasion any time soon, so the best he can do is be a damn gentleman. For the sake of his manly ego, he’ll cleanse his memory of this shameful encounter. “Sorry about this.”

Maybe he should start preparing for his lessons the next day. He’s gonna teach barrier techniques. 

“Kicking me out so soon?” You joke, even though you’re already picking your bra off the floor. Not your first rodeo. “How rude of you, cute Satoru-chan.”

He giggles. “Unless you want to stay? We can Netflix and chill, literally.” Is this normal human behaviour? Looking at your smile, he realises that he doesn’t give a shit. 

“I want popcorn, extra butter.” “Okie, madam!” 

a/n: election results so bad had to write gojo being a moshi moshi schoolgirl with ed just to feel something.

[sundayworshipper]

*~Orthodoxia

«Sunday x Gn! Reader»

🪦| SFW, Angst, Undefined relationship, can be read as romantic/platonic (bed sharing, cuddling)| WC: ~11K

⚰️| CW: Inspired by the song Orthodoxia by Guchiry, misplaced religious worship (fictional religion), Sunday is a priest and cult leader, Small town cult setting AU, Third person prose (reader is referred to as [Name]), Major character death, Minor character death, Murder, SH? (Sunday), Allusion to suicide, Graphic descriptions of violence, Non sexual grooming, A bird dies, Ena=God, Gopher sucks ASS, mostly Sunday angst with reader being there sometimes, English isn’t my first language, non chronological, first fic ever （╹◡╹）

Credit for the commandments to Guchiry

A/N: This is so long 💀.. There’s a few plot holes? and the writing is kinda repetitive but i spent too long on this not to post. Extra warnings, beta read but not proofread, reader char is intentionally bland, not canon compliant/OOC-ish ∩^ω^∩.

EDIT: Oh god this got much more attention than I was expecting. I am (slowly) working on rewriting it 🤍

1. God’s great grace is given to those who are completely faithful.

Sunday inhaled deeply while tugging at his pristine white glove in an attempt of straightening it. In his mind, he looked like a complete mess, completely unfit for a High Priest. His Master and founder of the One True Religion, Gopher Wood, had recently taken his last breath, finally succumbing to the horrible illness that had tormented him for years. As his adopted son, the gray-haired halovian was to take on his duties post-haste. The young man only took half a day to compose himself enough to make a public statement. He probably would have taken longer, had he actually cared to pretend to grieve.

Upon deciding he was satisfied with the state of his attire, Sunday stepped out of the sascrity, taking his place at the pulpit. The gazes of all of his Master’s- no, his own followers, locked onto him, confused and impatient to hear the reason for Mr. Wood’s absence at yesterday’s service.

The man smiled, hoping that the way it didn’t reach his eyes wasn’t very obvious. After a few moments, he just decided to close them.

The fear of rejection by his followers felt as if it was rapidly piercing holes trough his insides, however, he knew that THEY wouldn’t fail him when he needed THEM most. After all, the first ever thing taught to those interested in the religion, is that good things come to those who believe.

2. Only the high priest is permitted to take God's name in vain.

“Fuck! God fucking damn it!” An unfamiliar voice screamed from an alleyway, which Sunday was just about to pass while on his routine walk. His wings twitched, and the ones on his torso tensed. He contemplated if this even counted as a violation of the second commandment, as the use of the words ‘God’ and ‘Lord’ had less restrictions than the uttering of the true name of the one they were referring to. He also thought about the possibility that ‘God’ was the three-faced idol the next town over worshipped, that maybe one of them had snuck in. He ultimately decided that using any heavenly title accompanied by such words was disrespectful, and he’d try to steer the speaker onto the right path, be they a follower of Order, Harmony, or something else entirely.

Despite the amount of information he mulled over, he really didn’t spend long thinking before rushing into the alley.

“Are you alright?” He inquired to the person that had emitted such obscene words just moments ago. Their clothes didn’t reflect those of a citizen in this town, nor the neighboring one’s. They whipped around to face him, wearing a frightened expression.

“Ah..Huh?” The emotion of surprise seemed to overshadow that of fear. Sunday gave an amused smile at this.

“Do not be afraid. I am Sunday, messenger of Ena. I heard you…Cussing, earlier. Judging by your attire, you are a foreigner, which explains that. However, I feel as if I should inform you that such an act is quite worrisome here.” He could no longer suppress his giggle, which confused the stranger.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm..Do not worry. Mind telling me how to address you? And, if you’re comfortable, what brings you here?” Sunday stepped closer, and leaned in towards the person.

“I’m [Name].” They replied, taking a step back. After spending a moment deciding whether or not to reveal the circumstances that led up to them ending up where they did, they concluded that he was trustworthy.

Sunday listened, and considered their words carefully.

“I see. Since you have no home, would you like to live with me, for the time being? I’ll help you find a job. All I ask is that you attend church and clean up after yourself.” He offered his hand, wings relaxing.

[Name]’s breath hitched. It wasn’t like they had many choices… If they stayed on the streets, they’d most certainly die. If they went with Sunday, the outcome had a slightly lesser chance of being the same.

After thinking very carefully, they took Sunday’s hand wordlessly.

3. Those who do harm to God's messenger, the high priest, will be expelled.

As much as Sunday wished he could forget the worshippers of Xipe existed, trade between the two towns was beneficial for everyone. After the death of Gopher Wood- who refused any sort of contact and terminated the transaction of goods-, Sunday begrudgingly sent one of his trustworthy followers to request that the old commerce deal be reinstated. And so, it was.

To the average citizen, all seemed well. However, Sunday could notice the way everyone that interacted with Xipe’s Worshippers on a regular basis attended church less and less often. He tried to brush it off as them being busy with such an important new task. This was until, on the seventh day’s service, the holiest of all, one of the traders defied the rules and interrupted Sunday’s sermon by standing directly next to him. The halovian’s heart skipped a beat, but he simply smiled.

“Good sir, are you not feeling well? This is not an appropriate place for you.” He placed a gentle hand on the trader’s shoulder. His kind act was met with a harsh slap which resounded through the entire chamber. However, his smile did not falter.

[Name], who had been sitting in the front row of pews ever since Sunday ‘rescued’ them, stood up, as did the woman next to them. They wanted to separate the two, but the priest extended a hand towards them as a sign to stop.

The atmosphere was painfully tense and uncertain, until the merchant reached into his pocket to retrieve his dagger. He then pressed it to Sunday’s throat, finally causing his expression to shift.

“You bastard… You rotten, filthy, deceptive scoundrel! You lied! All you and your good-for-nothing father have ever done is lie! You will pay for this.” The trader hissed, preparing to slice the man’s flesh. Sunday’s eyes narrowed as he effortlessly ripped the knife from his hands by the blade, cutting deep into his own palm. He then tossed it to the side, and grabbed the traitor by the neck.

“Tsk..What a shame. You were quite valuable.” He shook his head disappointedly before dragging him outside.

No one dared to follow… Except for [Name]. Before anyone could tell them not to, they sprinted after Sunday, finding him kicking his attacker in the stomach repeatedly just outside church doors. [Name] gasped, but they were cut off by the disgusting feeling of bile rising up their throat. This caused Sunday to turn his head. His eyes were wide, however, a disturbingly sweet smile stretched across his features. He delivered one final kick- to the chest this time- and quickly closed most of the distance between him and [Name].

“You shouldn’t have followed me. But, I suppose it’s my fault for not teaching you what to do in such situations.. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

[Name]’s eyes darted between the priest and the corpse he had just created. They soon murmured the first thought they could muster:

“Your hand..”

“I will be fine. Go back inside, and stay put. Service will resume shortly.” He smiled before promptly walking out of sight.

[Name] considered running for their life as far away from this town as geography would allow. However, something was holding them back. After taking a minute to process, they re-entered the church, earning dirty looks from the other members. Only the woman that had stood up alongside them earlier spoke to them.

“Don’t do that. No one wants to see what happens to those who get ‘expelled’.”

4. It is the high priest who is the rightful successor to God’s will.

Despite it not feeling like such, Sunday was once a child. He had a family as well, more or less. Although thinking of Gopher Wood as his parent made him feel sick to his stomach now, a brief period of time where this wasn’t the case existed.

After the traumatic loss of their parents, Sunday and his dear sister, Robin, were sent to an orphanage much like any other unfortunate soul in the same situation. Robin thought they’d be adopted within the year, but Sunday was already planning the way in which he’d make a living for himself the moment he became an adult. He’d save up any and all money he didn’t use strictly on survival to be able to sustain his sister when she reached the age of eighteen as well, he thought.

In a surprising turn of events, a man from a small, far away town, visited the orphanage only three months after the siblings’ arrival. He smiled the instant his gaze landed on them. Originally, Sunday thought it was because of their shared, relatively uncommon species, but he’d later come to convince himself that Gopher Wood saw something in them that day.

In what had to be record time, he had legally adopted them. As they rode the horse carriage to their new home, Robin snuggled close to her brother, and whispered an optimistic ‘I told you so’. Sunday simply smiled, for the first time since the death of their mother.

The first day felt like the most fun a recently orphaned child could have. They were given various sweet treats by their new neighbors, and a tour of the town. Everyone seemed to dote on them, which almost made the young boy finally lower his guard fully. He thought he was safe at last, and could heal.

Big mistake.

That very night, Sunday was ripped from bed by his eerily silent ‘father’. Before he could even ask what he was doing, a hand had been slapped over his mouth. He, being docile and untrained at the time, allowed himself to be molded like clay.

In less than an hour, Sunday had been exposed to things that would shatter the mind of most children into pieces. At the end of his extensive explanation, Gopher took Sunday to the dark, empty church, where he forced him to kneel in front of the altar. Because he hadn’t succumbed to the information that he had to forcibly ingest, Gopher considered him a worthy heir, and introduced him to Ena as such.

And yet, that was not the point where he stopped seeing that man as family. In fact, he never saw anything wrong with that behavior. He always felt so proud to be chosen, entrusted with such an important position.. Gopher said he was special. Smart. Nearly perfect. He was everything he could’ve ever wanted in a son. The knowing glances they exchanged as Robin discovered the surface rules of the religion at the pace that everyone else except for him did made Sunday feel good.

For about a year, Sunday loved his life. He felt as if he finally had a purpose..

On the night of a seventh,going into first day of the week, in the latter half of November, Sunday found himself choking back tears on the bathroom floor, knees hugged tightly to his chest along with his discarded shirt. Gopher Wood, that monster, sat behind him, trimming away at the child’s lower wings. When he was done, he’d move on to permanently tainting them black, like his own.

‘The truest act of devotion’ he called it. To prove their loyalty to Ena, high priests had to discard something they held dear at a young age.. For halovians, their wings were naturally their pride and joy, so, the dark haired man picked those for him. Sunday asked to be allowed to choose something, anything else, but his request was declined.

Of course, this wasn’t any form of religious practice. Gopher had made it up to further mold his poor victim into what he needed him to be. Every time the boy dared to show any feelings regarding that action, he reminded him that as the high priest, all his actions were carried out trough God’s will.

Sunday never wore a base layer of clothing that didn’t almost perfectly match his new wing color after that. He felt hideous, and he’d rather have people think he lost his wings completely than show off the cruel defilement he’d endured.

Since then, Sunday could no longer see him as a father. Of course, he still respected and obeyed him, as not doing so would be disrespectful to THEM, too. After all, priests were naught but a mirror of their God’s desires.

5. God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world.

Sunday tossed in bed, wings wrapping around his face as he groaned quietly. He was tormented by thought, and couldn’t sleep.

Upon the passage of one hour, he rose from his spot, and slowly stepped out of his room. [Name] slumbered on his couch, as they had since the first time Sunday brought them home. He felt bad for not being able to provide them a proper bed, and made a mental note to work on that soon. After all, it wasn’t like it cost much, or… anything at all. He was just a very busy man.

The priest then stepped on the single creaky floorboard in the entire house, alerting his roommate.

“Sunday..?” They yawned, rubbing their eyes as they blinked them open.

“Ah. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

“It’s alright,, but what are you doing up so late? And why are you going out?”

“Mm. I need a walk, to clear my head. I’m finding it hard to rest well tonight.”

“Me too. I barely even fell asleep a few minutes ago, and it was so light.” [Name] stretched their back as they spoke.

“I see. Do you want to join me?” He offered, and the other person excitedly accepted, standing up and almost stumbling. Sunday caught them, helping them to stand better. They gave a grateful look in response.

The two then exited the house, the cold night breeze gently biting at their skin. They set a comfortable pace as Sunday directed them to the woods across the river that served as town border. [Name] hadn’t gotten the chance to go there yet, as it was ill-advised to venture too far from the town.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m going to murder you for your sins?” Sunday smiled, turning his face away so [Name] couldn’t see.

“I do! It’s just that… Wait, have I sinned?”

“Of course you have. You are still new to our religion, you’re bound to make mistakes. Even devout believers sin sometimes, but God forgives all, therefore so do I.”

“Do you sin?”

“Me? No. Sinning would be disgraceful to our Lord. I mean, if even the high priest doesn’t carry himself as THEY intended, how would any normal person be inclined to either?”

“True.. Doesn’t it get exhausting having to be perfect all the time, though?”

“Not at all. Do you know the fifth commandment?”

“God’s teachings are the divine providence of this world?” [Name] cocked their head at him, almost tripping on a fallen branch in the process.

“Very good. As the high priest, I have to know these teachings better than any other mortal. The stronger one’s knowledge, the stronger they feel God’s love.”

“Oh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you have.” He halted, left arm occupying its spot behind his back as usual. [Name] stopped as well, confused.

“Why’d you stop? Aren’t walks supposed to be continuous?”

“Yes…Would you mind pausing here for a moment? If I’m not mistaken, this is the clearing I used to come to for respite when I was a child. I have no time for such things anymore, but it brings me a sense of nostalgia.”

[Name] nodded, and awkwardly walked closer to Sunday. There didn’t appear to be any sitting spots, so they just took a moment to appreciate nature’s beauty.

Not much time later, Sunday decided it had gotten far too late to be outside any longer. As they trekked back home, the priest noticed [Name] become slower by the second. He offered to carry them, and in a moment of exhausted weakness, they accepted. They’d soon fall unconscious in his arms.

The following morning, [Name]’d find themselves in Sunday’s bed, with him nowhere to be found.

Confused, they stepped into the living room. Sure enough, the man was curled up on the couch.

6. To disobey God is to deviate from Paradise.

[Name] was integrating nicely into the town already. While trying to decide what job they should try land, they picked up gardening as a short pastime. Sunday had graciously lent them a patch of his backyard to plant things in, so long as they managed to keep it free of weeds. They agreed, and were doing a great job so far. The first thing they tried was strawberries, as it was the optimal season for planting them.

[Name] decided to ask the neighbors to see if anyone had any runners they could borrow.

“Hello!” They waved at an older lady who was conveniently planting something in her own garden. She lifted her head, smiled, and waved back.

“…Ahem. I was wondering if you had any strawberry runners? I want to grow strawberries… I don’t have any money right now, but I’ll pay you for them someday!”

“Ah, such nonsense.. Since Mr. Wood saved us, money is obsolete.”

“Huh? Then why do people still have jobs?”

“So they don’t get bored, of course! If you’re worried about payment, pay with a favor. Give some to Mr. Sunday when they’re ripe. I’m sure he hasn’t had strawberries since Miss Robin… Ah, nevermind, I’ll fetch ‘em for you.” The lady hobbled into her house, leaving [Name] confused. They made a mental note to ask Sunday about this ‘Robin’ someday.

The woman soon returned, and handed the runners to [Name], eagerly.

“Here you go, dearie. Give some to me too, if I’m still around by then…” she chuckled, trailing off into a cough.

“Don’t say that.. But, I will! Thanks so much!” They waved again, and sped off to plant the strawberries.

About three months later, the fruits were ripe. [Name] was utterly delighted… They looked absolutely perfect, as if it was obvious from a glance that they had the perfect texture and amount of juice. They quickly collected them all in a basket, and ran inside, where Sunday was actually home, for once. [Name] was happy about this, and hurried to separate the basket’s contents into bowls. The priest tilted his head at them, curious.

“I see you’ve made good use of the land I gave to you.” He hummed observantly.

“Mhm! I couldn’t have done it without the grandma across the street, though. I have to give her a portion back, but.. She asked for something else as payment.”

“Oh?”

[Name] handed Sunday a full bowl, happily.

“She wanted me to give this to you! She said you probably haven’t eaten any since some Robin something something..”

Sunday froze, and his breathing paused abruptly.

“Who’s Robin anyway? It sounds like you know her…”

“Robin is a sinner who denied our Lord’s presence in her life. She is where she deserves to be right now.” His voice had a weird edge, almost as if it was breaking.

“She’s not someone you should concern yourself with again. Ahem; thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you. Send my regards to the neighbor, too.” He left, strawberry bowl in hand.

[Name] frowned, dejectedly dragging themselves and one of the remaining strawberry bowls to the neighbor’s house. She was in the yard once again, so they just walked up to her.

“Ma’am! I picked the strawberries today!” They handed her the dish.

“Thank you, dear. You gave them to Mr. Sunday too, yes?”

“Of course. He said to give you his regards. But, something weird happened. When I asked him about Robin, he just said she was a sinner. That wasn’t much of an answer, so could you tell me more, please?”

“Really? Hm. I wouldn’t expect him to be that cold towards the memory of his own sister…”

“…What?”

“I’ve said too much. Please leave.”

[Name] frowned, but did as asked. It was taking them some time to accept the fact that there were certain topics everyone seemed to get tense around..

7. To harbor doubts about God is to suffer the disintegration of thought.

Gopher Wood always despised the neighboring town, in which he was born, raised, and first established his religion. He hated not having control over every single atom there, so, he left. However, he wasn’t always completely unwilling to maintain a cordial relationship with them.

When his daughter, Robin, reached the age of twelve, he assigned her the role of ‘peacekeeper’. She was to befriend politicians and people of note, engage in the culture there. and report any intel she could’ve gained back to Gopher, who would then try to usurp the town and convert its residents to worshippers of Ena, ergo himself, by commandment fourteen.

By her 13th birthday, Robin’s reports suspiciously all turned into ‘They didn’t tell me anything’. The high priest soon grew skeptical, and ordered Sunday to get an answer out of her by any means necessary.

And so, he did.

He approached her door, taking note of the unfamiliar tune she appeared to be loudly humming. Due to growing older, they now had separate rooms. This didn’t help their relationship whatsoever, as their paths in life were already pulling them apart.

“Sister?” He knocked.

“Come in!” She called out, ceasing her singing. Sunday did, avoiding her gaze.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Sit down.” She gestured to the empty spot on her bed, next to herself. Sunday shook his head, which felt like a dagger being pierced trough robin’s heart.

“Oh. Okay… What did you want to talk about?”

“Master ranted to me earlier about the lack of new information regarding the neighboring town lately. I found this weird, so I just wanted to ask you about it. Please be honest with me, are you hiding something?”

Robin’s eyes widened, before drifting downward. She dipped her head in a slight nod.

“Brother… I’m sorry, I meant to tell you earlier, but I feared your response. I..” she inhaled, then exhaled. “…I worship the Harmony.”

Sunday stared at her with the most disgust his face had ever held. He began to slowly shake his head.

Robin stood, paced over to him, and grabbed his hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Please, just listen to me. I discovered something that will change your view on-“ She trailed off as she met his gaze. It was evident that there was no possible way to reason with him. At that moment, it didn’t feel like she was even looking at her sibling; but rather, at the man that destroyed him.

Defeated, she let go of his hand, and sat back on her mattress. As she watched her beloved brother leave her room, she accepted that her days were now numbered.

8. To blaspheme God is to deny one's own existence.

Robin wore a gentle smile as she was walked down the path to a completely empty plain by her brother. The girl was dressed in pitch black robes, a symbol of her betrayal and a way to make her death far more painful. And yet, she didn’t seem all that bothered.

“Sunday..” she hummed.

“You’re not supposed to speak.”

“I’ll be dead soon either way. What’s one more sin?”

“…”

“I love you. Please don’t blame yourself, I forgive you.”

Sunday didn’t reply to this, and pushed her towards her final resting place.

“Press your back to the stake, please.”

Robin obliged, placing her hands behind the wooden pole as well, without even having to be told. Sunday, under the watchful gaze of Gopher Wood, tied them together, then her torso to the stake.

A citizen then dumped the wood Gopher had hand picked the day prior as the fire fuel to Robin’s feet, before backing up. As per the high priest’s request, Sunday was to light it.

The heir felt nothingness rip and tear away at his being. As his Master placed a flaming torch in his hand, Sunday thought about all the things he wanted to do right now. He wanted to cry, but that would be ‘disgraceful’. He wanted to grab his sister and run, far away from here, and start a new life together, but they were just children, with a horde of angry, violent adults behind them. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream in despair, but the raven-like man behind him would definitely punish him severely for that. As his legs trembled, threatening to give out, Sunday wondered what the worst consequence could even be. Upon remembering the ruined state his wings were in and that he had another pair in an incredibly visible location, he took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed, before pressing the torch’s tip to the firewood.

9. God sees, but THEY never save.

Sunday inhaled deeply, eyes shut. The winter air numbed his lungs, allowing the cold to overwhelm his body. He felt no pain, or any physical sensation at all. He simply felt like pure consciousness.

“Brother!” The worried voice of his sister called out to him. Alarmed, he exhaled, and ended his meditative state.

“What is it?” He questioned, tone unusually flat.

Robin held her hands out to him. They contained a baby dove. It was barely even covered in pin feathers, meaning it couldn’t have been more than seven days old.

“I was walking to Mr. Gary’s farm because I promised to help feed his animals, but i found this hatchling crying by a tree… I can’t find its nest, or parents, b-but it’ll freeze to death if we don’t do something!” She sobbed. Sunday examined the tiny avian closely.

“Yes…I do suppose the best course of action would be to raise it ourselves.” He crossed his arms.

“Why do you sound so hesitant..?”

Sunday was worried about what his Master would do upon discovering the animal. He wondered if its wings would be clipped, like his own were. The boy pressed a hand to his mouth in thought, eventually settling on the conclusion that there would be no reason to commit such act, as it was only done to himself so he could prove his worth to Ena.

“Fine. Give it to me.” He demanded, and the girl obliged.

The siblings rushed back home, where Robin filled a shallow bowl with warm water. Sunday placed the chick in it, but held on, just in case. It let out chirps of increasing volume, which the boy found endearing. He soon let go, stroking under the bird’s chin instead. Robin gasped, and leaned in closer to observe this. Her brother interacting with animals was a truly beautiful sight.

“How long will it take until it’s grown? I can’t wait to teach it how to fly!” She smiled widely, blinking up at Sunday.

“Huh? Why would we do that..?” He raised an eyebrow.

“So we can release it?” Robin now looked confused.

“What? You can’t be serious. What even is the point of saving it now if you just want to send it to die later?” He pulled the bowl closer to himself, protectively.

“It won’t die! It’d just be cruel to keep it inside for the rest of its life!” She argued, straightening her posture.

“It will.”

“No, it won’t!” The girl gripped the edge of the table. Sunday pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned his back to her.

“Fine. If you insist, you’re now responsible for its well-being until the end of the next week, when you must release it into the wild.”

“Fine.” Robin huffed, and pulled the bird and its makeshift bath back towards herself.

Seven more days passed, in which the dove grew out all the needed feathers for flight. Robin was absolutely ecstatic, and dragged Sunday outside.

“Okay..How do we do this?” She asked.

“What, you made a decision that could be the difference between life and death for another living being without any research?”

“Well, when you put it like that-“

“Do you admit defeat?��

“No! I know it’ll survive! Just tell me how to help it fly.”

Sunday simply shrugged, which upset Robin. After some contemplation, she placed the dove down on the ground, and held her breath waiting.

The bird soon spread its wings, and departed from the ground. The young girl squealed happily, and watched with wide eyes. She then turned, grinning triumphantly at her brother. It was then that she noticed the tall, dark figure looming right behind him.

“Master? What brings you here?”

Gopher Wood simply smiled eerily, and Sunday grimaced, eyes fixed on the now flying dove. A chill of deep dread struck Robin’s spine, making her turn again… Just in time to see the razor sharp talons of a raven dig into the body of the smaller bird. Right as its beak was about to rip flesh off, the girl ran into the house, sobbing loudly.

Sunday and Gopher kept watching. The scene was horrible, gory and disheartening, to say the least.

After a period of silence, the boy spoke up.

“That was a trained raven.”

“What a keen eye.”

“…Why? Robin didn’t have to see that. She’s just a child.”

“I disagree. It was her choice to free the dove, wasn’t it? She has to learn that her actions have consequences, and that defying the concept of order won’t get her anywhere.”

Sunday wordlessly nodded, before walking off.

On the way to the clearing he’d claimed as solely his- which he only turned to when he was having ‘sinful’ ideas that he felt too scared to even think about in the confines of the city- he wondered if Ena would really want one of THEIR creations to suffer, just to teach another a valuable lesson. He then considered that THEY might not truly even care about anyone and anything at all. If he could see and intervene in anything happening in the world, Sunday would try to save every being. But, in the end, he was not God, and THEY were.

10. God listens, but THEY never speak.

“Father..” a weak voice on the other side of the confessional threatened to break. Sunday straightened his posture, as he instinctively always did when spoken to, even if he couldn’t be seen.

“Speak your sorrows, child of the Order.”

“I can’t take it any longer. It feels… It feels like my prayers are falling on deaf ears. My life has only been spiraling into misery… Hell, even a sign would help loads!”

Sunday closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

“I understand how you must feel. However, you should know THEY don’t often give ‘signs’. You may share your troubles with me, and I promise to try my hardest to help you.”

“You’d really do that?”

“I would.” He nodded. He’d trained himself to be aware of his body language and what every single difference in stance could be interpreted as. So, he applied that even when alone, hidden, or in an otherwise casual situation.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you… May I ask a question first?”

“Hm?”

“Do THEY give you signs? Speak to you? Anything at all?”

The halovian fell silent. He didn’t know. Ever since he’d taken over Gopher Wood’s duties, he felt like a failure for being ‘spiritually disconnected’ from the Lord.

“The answer is what you think.” Was what he settled on.

The person on the other side sighed. The next time they spoke, their voice sounded muffled.

“I’m a murderer. I don’t deserve to live. Do you think THEY would forgive me if I..”

“Don’t say that. You are stronger than you think. Why do you consider yourself a murderer?”

“I had an argument with my little sister. It was over something so stupid, I don’t even remember what it was. I was so angry that I pushed her. She hit her head on the kitchen counter, and… oh god. There was so much blood. I saw her brains, Father. I will never forget the sight. I see it every time I sleep, every time I close my eyes, every time I see things that remind me of her. Please, how do I make it stop?” They sobbed.

Sunday was silent, eyes unfocusing as the vivid memory of Robin’s body being charred alive by flames tore its way out of the corner of his brain he’d banished it to.

“Father?”

“…Apologies. That is a lot to process, I was thinking of the optimal way to help. How long ago did this accident happen?”

“I don’t know. It could be anywhere from a few days to several months. After I buried her, everything’s been a blur. She was everything I had left… i hate to think that if I treated her nicer, showed her how much I appreciate her; if I tried to understand her better and didn’t let my emotions get the better of me, she’d still be here.”

“Yes.. You said you buried her body?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

“…”

“I see. You don’t have to tell me. I can feel that you are genuinely remorseful. Fear not, the Lord will forgive you, and I’m sure your sister would too. As for the mental scarring, I can only hope that your confession has lifted some weight off your shoulders. You are not alone. If you ever feel as if you need to take drastic measures, I hereby permit you to seek me in my free time. Your life matters, and I’d rather a slight inconvenience to myself than lose another life. It gets easier, I promise. Hardship is the key to happiness.” Although he was saying all this, he barely even believed or understood himself. He’d never had anyone comfort him when he was in a similar situation, nevermind attempt to help him. When he tried to turn to Ena for solace, he was only met with silence… Which was to be expected. However, the toll it took on him was greater than he could’ve ever expected. In any case, he hoped he’d helped the member of his community, even slightly.

The sound of the fabric belonging to the other person’s clothes could be heard- presumably them standing up. It was then followed by footsteps. Sunday groaned loudly once he figured they’d have long exited the church, and placed his face in his hands. This was going to be a long day.

Upon returning home way past midnight, Sunday looked uncharacteristically horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his wings drooped pathetically as he slouched, including his ‘deformed’ second pair, which usually stayed tucked into his coat.

“Sunday!” [Name] ran to the door as soon as it opened. As they bore witness to the state of the halovian, they fell into baffled silence. He blinked blearily, far too tired to be embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. Go to sleep.” He mumbled, trying to push past them and towards the couch, as the two had traded sleeping utilities after their late-night walk.

“No! Are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“You look horrendous. I’m worried.”

“Thanks.” He deadpanned.

“I obviously didn’t mean it that way. It’s just not like you to be so… improper. Woah, wait, you have four wings!?”

“I don’t want to talk about either of those things. Please move, I’d really like to sleep.”

[Name] frowned, and instead of letting Sunday go to sleep on the near back-breaking couch when he was clearly in no condition to, they intertwined their hand with his, pulling him towards the bedroom. Before Sunday had the chance to protest, they’d reached their destination.

“What are you doing?”

“What, you said you wanted to sleep.”

“Are you implying you want to… share a bed?”

“Yeah! That’s not sinful, right?”

“I suppose not.” Sunday gave up.

“Great. I’ll let you change, call me back in when you’re done.”

Sunday didn’t know what had happened to him by the beginning of the next hour. He found himself cuddling his housemate, face buried in their chest as their fingers carded through his hair. If he wasn’t so far gone, he would’ve felt shame to the depths of his bones.

As [Name]’s breathing and heart rate slowed steadily, so did their hand. Sunday smiled, slowly shifting their position until they’d fully swapped roles. While he appreciated being on the receiving end of affection for once, it was just his nature to want to return any kind act done for him.

He draped a wing around their body, figuring he’d finally found a use for the unsightly body part.

11. God knows, but THEY never teach.

Sunday’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He’d been staring at the glass casing containing the stone slate which the commandments had been first carved into for what must’ve been many hours now. He read them over, and over, and over, and over… Despite the fact that his mind was already similar to the slate, in the sense that the words had been permanently etched into both. Every day, he could feel himself growing more and more…Hateful. And so, he decided connecting with the Lord again would be the best course of action.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. As he obsessively examined and carefully thought over every word of the sacred obligations, he could only form more and more questions… More anger. More doubt. The contradictions between several entries now seemed painfully obvious. For example, it was specified that the high priest was the exception to commandment two, but no such thing exists for the numbers nine, ten and eleven… But, communication between God and the high priest was supposed to be the basis of the religion.

As the gears in Sunday’s brain turned, he began to laugh. How could he have been so foolish? These were all just lies. Lies made up by a selfish man who desired nothing more than to rule the whole world by himself. As his laughter grew, so did his fury.

Sunday dug his fingers into the side of the glass; fragile, as all things in this forsaken town. If everyone was under the permanent illusion of safety, why was there any need for precaution? It was so bad, that nobody locked their doors anymore. No one would want to break into your house and kill you, after all. The most likely murderer was the person you trusted enough to live with. As these realizations plagued his mind, Sunday’s hands only gripped the long since shattered shards of glass tighter, and tighter. It hurt so pleasantly right now. Although, soon enough, he dropped them in favor of grasping the stone tablet itself. As he turned around, his eyes darted through the church. He needed something to break it with.

After looking for a considerable amount of time, Sunday decided he’d just fling it at the wall.

As the glorified boulder was about to leave his hand, he hesitated. What if he was wrong? This definitely had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe he just wasn’t open minded enough to understand the deeper meaning of the commandments. After all, every older resident seemed so happy living the way they were. The younger generation- including himself- would grow into doing the same, surely… God is good, Sunday thought.

God is loving.

The priest lowered his hand slowly. He rotated back to his original position, regret filling him at the sight of the broken display and bloodied glass scattered across the floor. If he were to look into his hand, he’d notice the crimson seeping from his open wound was quickly transferring to the commandments.

Sunday closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He just had to clean this up, find a replacement case, and no one would ever know. His sin could stay between him and the Lord, forever.

As for understanding all the contradictions, he was now sure that he just had to try a little harder. After all, God doesn’t teach. For a start, this probably meant THEY wanted THEIR subjects to learn from their and others’ mistakes throughout their life.

Yes, this had to be the solution. This was nothing but another trial for Sunday to overcome; a test of faith.

12. The entire Word of God is passed down through THEIR oracle, the high priest.

In an extremely rare occurrence, Sunday had found himself with a few hours of free time on his hands. He decided to spend one of them browsing the local grocery store, deciding on what snack to purchase for [Name], as a token of appreciation. He hadn’t asked them about their tastes outright, so he was attempting to piece them together from the few, yet valuable conversations they’d had. This was proving to be a more challenging task than expected, but he wasn’t about to give up.

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” A voice coming from Sunday’s right spoke sweetly. He turned his head, confused. Before him stood a person, with an appearance so strikingly out of place that he managed how they even managed to make it into the city. They had white hair, parted into short twin tails on either side of their head. They also had long curtain bangs, however, the upper part of their hairstyle didn’t even utilize as much as half of their locks. The expanse of white fell down to the floor, dragging along it whenever they moved. They wore simple, yet eye grabbing make up, which nicely complemented their tanned skin. Their eyes appeared to naturally stay shut for the entirety of Sunday’s examination of them, not displaying any of the twitching that the eyes of a normal person forcing them to stay closed would. What was really out of place, though, was their clothing. They wore a tight, black dress which was about as long as their hair. It was rather revealing, especially in the chest and leg area. Whilst the town Sunday lived in didn’t exactly enforce ‘purity culture’ anymore, it was still unusual to dress immodestly. Additionally, the sort of corset piece wrapped around their midriff and neck appeared to be real gold, solidifying their status as an outsider. The followers of Order weren’t exactly wealthy, as money had not been used since the founding of the religion, and Gopher Wood considered the concept to be inherently unfair. Of course, this didn’t stop him from continuing to hoard any currency he came across, to be able to afford imported garments and accessories of the finest quality for only himself and his children.

“Pardon?” He narrowed his eyes, inspecting the item. It was one of the choices he’d been considering for [Name]’s snack, although he was still second-guessing himself.

“This is their favorite.” The foreigner extended their hand further, as if urging him to take it.

“What are you talking about?” Sunday was becoming uncomfortable.

“[Name]? Your.. Friend. This is their favorite. You are looking for something to get them, no?”

“Hah..I see. You’re one of Xipe’s slaves.” He chuckled bitterly, and grabbed a duplicate of the item they were holding off the shelf.

“I’d strongly urge you to return to your home, if you know what’s best for you. Good day.” He turned to leave, but a hand as cold as death itself gripped his wrist with a hold that would be sure to cut off his circulation if it was kept too long.

“Is this all the thanks I get? You would’ve spent another hour deciding if it weren’t for me.” The person pouted in mock offense.

“Stop. Get out of my mind, please.” He tried to pull away, to no avail.

“And what if I don’t? Are you going to call upon Ena to save you? Oh wait..” They laughed.

“Tsk…Do not use THEIR sacred name with such mocking purpose.”

“I really don’t get what you see in THEM. I mean, THEY’RE such a deadbeat! The Great One would never let THEIR subjects suffer.”

“Says the one whose idol abandoned THEIR town without leaving as much as a divine messenger.”

“Hm? But I am the High Priest.”

“High Priest? My a-.. ahem… That does not sound very likely. Clearly, you’re blessed in some form, but knowing Penacony, they would hold a week-long festival in your honor if you gave substantial proof of this. Who are you, really?”

The person smiled, and let go of his now bruised wrist. They’d still not opened their eyes once.

“Oh, would you look at the time. Well, I should get going. Until we meet again~” they waved, and walked away, humming an awfully familiar tune.

Sunday would then stand in the middle of the aisle, snack in hand as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He wondered if the person was trying to convince him to turn to the Harmony, or just teasing him. What’s worse is that if it was the former, he believed he might’ve actually considered.

The halovian soon dragged himself home, deep in thought. As he opened the door to see [Name] sitting on the couch as they had been doing more often lately, Sunday smiled. He sat next to them, far closer than usual.

“…I got you something.” He handed them the snack. [Name] gasped quietly.

“Ohh.. Did you know this was my favorite? Thank you so much!” They hugged him.

“Really? Must’ve been a lucky guess. In any case, consider this payment for the strawberries.” Sunday shut his eyes. Perhaps the worshipper of Xipe wasn’t all that horrible.

13. God’s aims are the aims of the world

Lately, Sunday had been frequenting the church in the dead of night. Since the meeting with the strange worshipper of Harmony, he’d been questioning his faith more than ever before. A part of him struggled with the same urge to run that he’d felt in Robin’s final moments. However, instead of his fear of angry, violent adults holding him back now, it was the fear of repercussions for becoming one.

He considered himself weak minded. He knew very well what he was getting into before accepting the position of high priest. He knew he’d have to murder and hurt, and yet… He never truly could. A secret Sunday swore he’d take to the grave, was that he never truly punished traitors as God commanded. Even after the incident with the tradesman, the worst he could muster was kicking him into unconsciousness and dropping him off into Penacony’s territory. That very night, he prayed to the God he himself had just betrayed, that the man was taken to a hospital. In his heart, Sunday still believed that if he were to implore the Lord to forgive those who turned away from them, THEY would.

Sunday had what one might call a heart of gold. He wanted the best for everyone, even if it directly contradicted the teachings of his Master, and the undeniable holy rules given to the world by God. However, his constant desire to help came at the cost of his own sanity- fact which he was acutely aware of. He considered it a small price to pay for the joy of others.

In his mind, he was responsible for the actions of each and every one of The Order’s followers. If they sinned, it was purely his fault for not managing to stop them. He’d be the one spending eternity in the burning embers, while any who sinned under him and died before he did, would be forgiven and led to the peaceful afterlife they strived for all their lives. If he’d explain this to any sane person, they’d most likely immediately pick up on how specific, flawed, and barely comprehensible his logic was… Unfortunately, he never would.

“You look tired.” The sickly sweet voice of the strange worshipper called from behind Sunday, making him halt.

“I know for a fact that I locked the gates.” He crossed his arms, but didn’t give the person the pleasure of looking at them.

“What can I say, I have my ways… Anyway, I don’t think burying yourself in your delusions is very healthy. You should rest.”

“I must say, you’re very bold. You simply can’t hold yourself back from insulting the Lord in front of THEIR messenger, hm?”

“I am simply stating a fact. You’re starting to doubt THEIR very existence, and you know that. If you acknowledge your situation, why do you still choose to indulge?”

Sunday did not speak for a long period of time.

“If you truly were a High Priest, you’d understand. God is all I have. I’ve invested so much time into becoming what I am now, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise.”

“And you still don’t follow the very principle that supposedly founded your religion. Clearly, deep down, what you want is to help everyone. You’d be well suited for the Harmony…”

“No. The harmony dictates that everyone must live through trial and error. That’s such unnecessary suffering, that can simply be avoided by protecting everyone.”

“Learning through mistakes? Isn’t that what you ultimately decided Ena’s ideal was, when you noticed people making mistakes over and over again, even when the whole point of this religion is to establish ultimate control and peace to the point where people will actively seek out pain to break the monotony?”

“…Then, I was mistaken. I never saw the similarities to the Harmony before. I pray THEY can forgive me as I try to truly understand THEIR commandments once more. Thank you for telling me this. I shall… Become a better fit for my role, through any means necessary.”

“Really? Or will you do as you’ve always done, and continue to refuse to harm anyone as your God dictates?”

“…Even if I were to do that, which I will earnestly try not to, the spiritual consequences would fall onto me, solely. I’m the one not doing my job, I-“

“Sunday! When was the last time you’ve uttered or thought something that makes any sense, at all!? Look deeply within yourself, you’ll realize how absurd you’re being.”

The halovian simply smiled. Perhaps, long ago, that would’ve been true. However, that was no longer a possibility. Any time he’d come to the same realization, his being would instinctively suffocate itself with a half-hearted explanation that would seem plausible enough at first glance, until he’d begin to deconstruct it, at which point the process would repeat.

The stranger’s expression shifted into a sorrowful one. They’d really tried to help him, but he was truly too far gone.

“I see. I hope your soul will someday be able to find peace.” They left, giving Sunday the opportunity to continue destroying himself in peace.

14. God and the high priest shall be regarded as one and the same.

Gopher Wood’s amber eyes intently observed Mikhail. His head was informally resting on the table, wings fluttering in anticipation as he waited for his ally to finish reading the documents he’d presented him with.

“So? What do you think?” He finally spoke, having grown impatient.

“I’m not done yet..”

“Well, you’ve read most of it. What do you think so far, then?”

“I didn’t know you had such little patience, Mr. Wood.”

“Yes, yes..Well, now you know.”

“I don’t consider it appropriate to share my opinion on something that I don’t fully understand. I ask that you continue waiting.”

“Fine.” Gopher scoffed, and stood up.

“I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Mikhail sighed as he continued reading. Him and Gopher had met just over three amber eras ago, under inexplicable circumstances. At the time, it seemed they had similar ideals for the future of Penacony- a beautiful town, ravaged by an unfortunate dispute. The two quickly struck up a friendship, or at the very least, a cordial working relationship. At first, they agreed that their end goal was to join The Family, a union of towns and cities who worshipped a god known as Xipe and believed in the concept of Harmony. The men slowly gained the respect of most Penaconians that, too,wished for peace, who allowed them to become something akin to a two-person government.

After all that, they successfully completed their goal. Although, soon after, Gopher began acting unusually. He distanced himself from Mikhail, only talking to him to ask odd questions, such as ‘if he ever wished the entire town’s residents could be puppets’. The blue-haired man grew incredibly concerned for his partner’s wellbeing, but could never reach Gopher to speak to him about this topic.

A few days prior, he had invited him out to drinks to discuss ‘an exciting new discovery’. They now found themselves here, Gopher having handed Mikhail a folder full of papers, detailing the proof of the existence of another deity before Xipe. THEY were known by the name of Ena, and represented Order, which was awfully close to the concept of Harmony, besides the awfully concerning attitude towards those who desired to follow their own path in life.

Just as Mikhail finished reading, the halovian returned.

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes…?”

“Wonderful! So?”

“I’m… Not quite sure I understand. Do you want to leave The Family and pursue this religion? Do you even have any current proof this, ‘Ena’ even exists..?”

“Oh, THEY don’t!” He giggled, joyfully taking a sip of his wine. Just as Mikhail was preparing to open his mouth, he continued:

“Not anymore, at least. But if we can make people believe THEY do, we’ll have them wrapped around our fingers. They’ll just do anything we want under the guise of religion. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? There can truly be peace upon Penacony.”

“…How drunk are you?”

“Plenty.”

“You’re not thinking straight. That would never work, it’d just be defying human nature. Besides, if the ones who continue trying to end our lives for opposing them can’t even agree with Harmony, what makes you think they’d want to obey the words of an imaginary God?”

“Oh, them? They have no place in Penacony either way. If I were to execute my plan, I’d be doing a great favor to everyone.” He grinned.

“That’s enough. Get up. I’m taking you home, and you’re going to sleep off all that wine.” Mikhail stood, tossing the documents into the nearest trash.

“I know what I’m doing, my dear Misha. I’ve been fantasizing about this since before we even met… It’s my greatest wish, and what’s the best for Penacony- no, the world, even! Why must you be so cruel~?”

“…You’re not who I thought you were. Why.. Why would you even say that?”

“Mm.. Tell me one thing, then.” He rounded the table, until he was face to face with Mikhail. He then grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him even closer, grinning. “How long do you think a society under the Order’s rule will last? Hell, even with the most haphazard basis I can throw together in one night?”

“Don’t-“

“Answer me.”

“…A decade, at most.”

“Very well.” Gopher hummed, and let go.

“I say… Triple that, before it spreads to Penacony. At least a century after that until the downfall.”

“What are you planning to do..?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re,, a psychopath. This will never work! Even if it somehow lasted for your entire lifetime, you’d never find a successor gullible enough to extend your little cult’s existence for that long.”

Gopher’s smile widened sinisterly.

“Cult? I prefer the word social experiment. Anyway, I should get going now. I heard the next town over has little contact with outsiders, and I’d like to get there before that changes.” He turned, and began to walk.

“Until we meet again, Misha.”

15. God is absolute.

After his second encounter with what seemed to be Xipe’s chosen one, Sunday felt completely drained. He hadn’t fully felt like a living, breathing entity since he was maybe six years old, but the mental haze that affected him worsened with each significant event that happened to him. He stumbled home at the same time that the sun began to peek over the horizon.

Despite the fact that he returned to sleeping on the couch after the night him and [Name] cuddled, he didn’t feel like sleeping alone at this moment.

Following several minutes of hesitation, Sunday opened the bedroom door, cautiously stepping in. Of course, his friend was sleeping peacefully, and luckily for him, deeply. The man stalked over to the closet door, which had been divided into halves to accommodate both his and [Name]’s clothes. He quickly discarded his current outfit, changing into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. The shirt rode up his stomach slightly, as he hadn’t ever found the time to poke wing holes into his casual garments; therefore, his wings were just hanging naturally.

He slowly sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed, pausing to see if the sleeping person would wake. When they didn’t, he made himself more comfortable, even pulling half of the blanket over himself.

That action caused [Name] to turn. Sunday was preparing an apology speech for waking them, but they were unbothered. They grabbed his arm, snuggling it. The halovian took a moment to process, upper wings tensing in surprise. He was still not used to being touched, but he’d feel too bad pushing them away. So, instead of getting any rest, he just awkwardly stared at them for hours, frozen in place.

Finally, [Name] yawned, attempting to stretch. They were stopped by the sensation of a warm, solid object being held between their arms. When their eyes shot open, they barely stopped themselves from screaming at the sight of Sunday, who looked at them with a tired frown.

“Sorry,, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just feeling unwell, and I thought…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’m just, a little surprised. You don’t really seem like the type of guy who’d enjoy this kind of stuff.”

“‘Stuff’…?”

“Yeah. You know, like, closeness.”

“Really? Hm.” He turned his head away, deep in thought.

“I guess you’re right.“ He nearly whispered, pulling his arm away.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward. So much so, that [Name] decided to speak the first thought that came to mind:

“Can I touch your wings?”

“Sorry?”

“I want to touch your wings. They look super fluffy.”

Sunday narrowed his eyes, wondering where they obtained such courage. A halovian’s wings were just about sacred, and most only allowed those closest to them to do as much as stare at them for extensive amount of time. And still…

“You may. But, please be careful. They’re very sensitive, and tear easily.”

“Wait, really? I wasn’t really expecting you to let me..” [Name] was dumbfounded.

“I suppose so. The idea doesn’t make me uncomfortable, as I… Truly appreciate you. It feels like you’re the only person that has seen me as human in an embarrassingly long time. This is the least I can do to express my gratitude.” He leaned in closer, extending the wings on the side closest to [Name]. They didn’t speak, only reaching out to pet the wing sticking out from under his shirt. Sunday was surprised, as he figured they’d first pick the carefully preened, pristine, and intact wing on his head.

“It’s so soft..” they gasped, brushing a finger along the trimmed edge of the appendage. They then moved on to his upper wing, scratching behind it like one would with a cat.

Sunday metaphorically melted, gently collapsing onto [Name]. His eyes closed contently as his roommate continued their exploration of his features.

Unfortunately, their happiness didn’t last long. The distinct sound of wood being axed through snapped both people out of their relaxed state. Sunday jumped out of bed, and out the bedroom door. The sound was coming from the front entrance- which was stupid, as it was unlocked, much like any other door in the town. He crossed his arms, glaring at the widening hole in his door.

Upon completely decimating the wooden structure, a furious mob of followers of the Order barged in, carrying pitchforks and unlit torches. Sunday blinked in disbelief, if only for a couple seconds.

“You liar… Murderous whoreson of a cunt! How could you… How? Do you even realize how many people have lost or wasted their lives on your fuckass cult!? You will pay for this!” A man near the front screamed, spit flying onto Sunday as he did so. He wiped it off his face, giving his subjects a tired smile.

“My children, please. This must all be one great misunderstanding. I urge you to lay your weapons down, and explain to me what crime exactly you think it is that I committed.” He clasped his hands together, eyes closing inoffensively. Once again, his communication attempt was met with a slap.

“Misunderstanding? Hah. Tell that to The Devil! Tie him!” The man ordered, in response to which, the follower of Harmony stepped forward, rope in hand. As they stood parallel to Sunday, they opened their eyes for the first time. The blue outer ring transforming into a deep purple one didn’t look the least bit human, and neither did the grey sclera. If anything, such colors more closely resembled the written description of Ena, if only reversed.

It was then that it clicked.

Sunday began to twitch, in what seemed like the unfortunate moment where the psyche of a tortured man finally shattered. Hell, maybe that was accurate. He soon began to laugh, louder than he ever had before.

As he found himself preoccupied with that, Xipe gave him one last pitiful glance.

“I’m sorry.” THEY mouthed, beginning to bind his arms and wings.

[Name] gripped the edge of the bedroom doorframe. They had been observing for the entirety of the conflict, frozen. Perhaps, if the sea of people didn’t extend well past the confines of the house, they would’ve tried to help Sunday.

“See? He’s gone far past mad- Wait, should we do something about [Name]?” A villager questioned another, causing Sunday to cease his laughter.

“Absolutely. Burn the entire house down, everything he’s touched is tainted.”

“Are you insane? They’re pretty new. What do you think are the chances that they knew?” A third chimed in.

“[Name] didn’t know. It… It was all on me. I’m the one who lied to you. I deceived each and every one of you in pursuit of control. I corrupted the pure intentions of Gopher Wood, and, I ended his life via poison. I am the only culprit.” Sunday tensed, frantically looking around to see how many people believed his faux confession. Of course, only the first sentence was even remotely true. However, if he were to die today, there was no reason to drag the dead and the innocent along with him.

The villagers fell silent, looking between each other in a silent discussion.

“I believe him.” Xipe said, tugging on Sunday’s binds as THEY lead him towards the door, clearing a path through the mob.

The crowd followed, much like a herd of sheep would. This left [Name] alone, and confused.

When the silence became deafening, they hurried to follow. They figured that even if they couldn’t physically be that close to him during whatever was going to happen, then being there at all might make Sunday feel less alone. Even if what he’d confessed was true; which they didn’t fully believe, he did save their life. This was the least they could do for him.

Tears rolled down Sunday’s face, shining golden from the bright sunlight seeping into them. He was awarded the courtesy of choosing when he’d be ended, and he picked sundown. He’d been nailed to a cross, through his hands, wings, and shoulders. The fallen priest was in utter agony, and yet, he was quite alright with this.

Xipe took the same role Sunday had all those years ago; the killer. The villagers were seething, and craved nothing but blood. So, they all collectively decided Sunday was going to be nailed, burnt, and finally shot in the neck. Xipe offered THEMSELVES as executioner. No mortal deserved to have to live with the fact they were the direct cause of another human being’s untimely demise…

As THEIR lit torch approached the kindling, Xipe gazed into Sunday’s eyes once more. They smiled. It was barely visible, yet earnest.

Sunday returned the gesture, inhaling the last breath of fresh air he’d ever take.

[Name] kneeled in front of the charred, bloodied, and decaying corpse of Sunday. They didn’t even think he saw them in his final moments, ergo, they exposed themselves to his disgustingly brutal end for nothing.

They dipped their head, placing the bouquet of wild flowers they’d picked from the clearing which Sunday introduced them to, at his feet.

“Do you want to bury him?”

“…What?” [Name] turned, recognizing the voice as Sunday’s executioner.

“You cared about him. I doubt you want him to publicly rot for..What, a decade?”

“Yeah.”

“Stand. And take the flowers. I’ll carry him.”

And so, they did. In the same clearing the flowers had been picked from, [Name] and Xipe had buried Sunday. They didn’t mark his grave, deciding to finally let him rest.

“So? What will happen now? To everyone in the town, I mean. I don’t know about anyone else, but I have nowhere to go, and a town without a leader is a town without laws. But they’re all so violent…”

“Hm..Penacony has a place for all. Even with their violent tendencies, they can learn and grow.”

“So, why couldn’t Sunday?”

“Despite not knowing what he even believed in, Sunday thought he was nothing without Order. No matter what anyone could ever try, he’d refuse to change. It’s unfortunate, but, he should be allowed to make his own choices.”

“…But that’s so unfair.”

“Being forced into obedience would be equally unfair, no? Sunday died on his own terms.”

“I guess. It’s just, sad.”

[Name] received no reply. They felt as if the other presence had suddenly vanished, but didn’t bother to confirm this.

They laid down next to Sunday’s resting place, closing their eyes. They still struggled to comprehend how their life had taken such a horrible turn so quickly.

It didn’t matter now. [Name] yawned, rolling over onto the side they were most comfortable on. Upon waking, they’d set off to Penacony, where they would find a job and make a living for themselves. But tonight, they just wanted a semblance of a proper farewell to the cozy lifestyle they had grown so accustomed to, and to the man that made it all possible.

[denaliwrites]

Road to Hell

Crowley x GN!Reader

Summary: Of all the subjects Crowley thought he might walk in on you researching in the bookshop, demonology was probably at the bottom of the list.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Crowley is a dick (affectionate).

"What're you reading today?" Crowley asked, towering over you with a contemplative look. You lifted the book for him to see and in return he offered a shocked choking sound in the back of his throat. "Demonology, huh? What... inspired you to read that?"

He hadn't told you anything about him and Aziraphale being a demon and an angel, respectively. As far as he knew, Aziraphale hadn't broached the topic with you, either. To him, there was absolutely no reason for you to be reading about anything even remotely connected to his or Aziraphale's status as supernatural beings.

Yet here you were.

Reading a book on demonology.

You shrugged in response to his question, bringing the book back down to your lap to read comfortably. "I'd never checked out the occult section before, so I decided to read something from there and this was the most interesting looking book on the whole shelf."

"Ah, right." That did, to Crowley's immense relief, make sense. You'd read at least one book from nearly every section in the bookshop -- why wouldn't you, at some point, venture into the occult?

"Can't help but wonder how accurate it is, though," you mused aloud. "Pretty sure we've all collectively decided that demonic possessions are all just mentally ill people being misunderstood and abused by the church, right? Or I guess sometimes maybe people seeking attention? So how much of this is, like... considered true, I guess?"

"Do you... believe in demons?" Crowley asked carefully.

"Not really. I mean, I feel like if they were real, we'd have more evidence than just... the church saying so? Like, surely atheists and Satanists would've met a ton of demons by now, but I don't see any atheists or Satanists ever talking about meeting demons."

Crowley had to admit that was a fair cop. Maybe a little... small-minded, at least cosmically speaking, but you were but a human. That could be excused.

"What if they were real?" he asked, coming to sit on the arm of the chair you occupied. "What if you met a demon? Knew a demon, even?"

You made a sound at the back of your throat that sounded an awful lot like the one he made. "I'd have a lot of things I needed to reconsider, for starters."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Well," you started, closing the book and turning so that you were facing him. "If demons were real, then I think the next logical step would be that angels were real, and if angels were real then the next step from that point would be that God's real."

He rocked back slightly to better look at you, clicking his tongue curiously. "Is that so bad, really?"

You sighed dramatically. It was a sound he loved -- it usually came before something remarkably human. Something remarkably You. "Anthony Janthony Cranthony," you lamented, "I cannot ever, under any circumstances, let my parents know that I regret not going to church more."

Anthony Janthony Cranthony? Why had you called him that? Of all things, to go with Anthony Janthony Cranthony...

He supposed that wasn't really the point to what you were saying. Something about your parents and church, though, that was the point.

"Not sure why they'd have to know," he said casually with a shrug.

Your eyes widened in shocked realization. "Oh, fuck, you're right! They'd never have to know. You're brilliant," you said, to him -- you'd called him brilliant! He beamed at that. "Going to Hell anyway, if all that were real, may as well add 'disrespecting my parents' to my list of sins."

Oh.

"Why do you think you'd go to Hell, darling?"

"It's not like I've been living a pious life, y'know?" you said, blinking up at him. "I curse, I've fucked out of wedlock, I'm reading all about demons and witchcraft and shit. I don't believe in God? I'm pretty sure that's one of the big no-nos."

It was his turn to blink, but his was followed up with a laugh. "Oh, love, God does not care about any of those things. Trust me."

"Oh, God, are you a Christian? Have you been this whole time? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to offend--"

"No, no, nothing like that. I..."

How did he tell you? Should he even tell you? He was sure Aziraphale might have something to say on the matter, but right now he couldn't be fucked, because you were here, looking up at him so innocently, so adoringly.

"What is it, Crowley?" And you sounded so concerned, so ready to take him into your arms and comfort him and apologize for a crime you hadn't even committed.

"I'm a demon."

The words tumbled forth from his lips before he could stop himself, and they hovered in the air for several silent and tense moments after, where all you did was stare at him.

And then you laughed -- and he wished he could laugh too. Hell, he wished he could hear even a trace of joy in your laugh. But it was all nerves and fear, like you weren't sure if this was some sick joke or if he was delusional.

When his expression didn't change, when he didn't yell out "sike!" or "gotcha!," your laugh died and then you just looked scared of him.

It nearly broke him, because if this was how you reacted before proof, how would you react when he showed you the truth?

But you didn't run away, so he carefully removed his glasses and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. Yours were locked onto the yellow irises, the slitted pupils that contracted and dilated at will.

He could tell you wanted to deny the reality of them -- that you wanted to write them off as contacts, but they wouldn't let you, because contacts couldn't dilate.

The only other things he could do -- well, within the confines of the bookshop, were show you his wings or turn into a snake. He wasn't huge on the latter option, at least not right now -- it definitely put him at a disadvantage, made him easier to discorporate.

So, instead, he moved to a stand. And his wings fanned out as you watched, and then, he figured, you'd run out the door screaming, never to be seen again. He hoped you lived well. He closed his eyes so that he didn't have to watch you walk away.

You got up -- he could hear the rustling of fabric, the relieved groan of the chair, the book falling onto the cushion. He expected the little bell above the door to signal your departure at any moment.

Instead, he felt your hands on his face, pulling him nearer to you. His eyes opened, stared into yours. The fear had gone, replaced by unabashed curiosity and deep, untamed love.

He expected many things to come out of that lovely mouth of yours. So God is real? Am I going to Hell? I don't want to go to Hell! What did I do to deserve going to Hell???

(You weren't going to Hell -- but after the initial question, people tended to panic and vomit the others out uncontrollably.)

He expected those questions. A handful of a select few others. He did not anticipate what you actually asked --

"Do you have a cool demon name?"

"A... Sorry, a what?"

"You know... Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Lucifer, Belial. What's your demon name?"

"O-oh... No... no 'cool' demon name, I'm afraid. Just... Just Crowley..."

He hadn't expected to be embarrassed and doubly hadn't expected to see a beaming smile on your face.

"I think Crowley's the coolest demon name, personally."

He could see in your eyes that you meant it -- and that made him smile.

"Isn't it just?" he asked with a relieved laugh.

"Now I gotta know what all you've done as a demon. I mean -- how old are you?"

"Old as the universe, darling."

He could see the moment your brain started trying to process that unfathomable information, and he could also see the moment it gave up. You moved on as if nothing happened, but Crowley took a moment to appreciate he wouldn't have to miracle your memories away before your brain went into nuclear meltdown.

"Why aren't you in Hell?"

"It's dreadfully boring."

"Why are you here?"

"I just think humans are neat... and your lot is very good at making booze."

"Have you done anything cool as a demon?"

"I met Shakespeare, I stopped some Nazi spies, I tempted Eve, I stopped Armageddon..."

"You what!?"

"Oh, yeah..." He made that sound in his throat. You copied it, seemingly from instinct. He wasn't even sure you noticed that you did it. "Long story, but Aziraphale and I convinced the Antichrist to just... not do the whole ending the world thing."

"Who's Aziraphale?"

"Oh. Right. Mr. Fell."

"... Mr. Fell? This Mr. Fell?" You motioned to the bookshop at large and Crowley nodded. "Is he a demon too?"

Crowley laughed -- an uproarious, barking laugh, that lasted much longer than was strictly necessary.

"Oh, you better not let him hear that," he said once he'd calmed down.

"... So he's not a demon?" you mumbled, and Crowley realized he'd accidentally made you feel bad.

He took one of your hands in his and guided it away from his face so that he could kiss the palm. "No, darling, he's not." He kissed your palm again. "He's an angel."

"I'm sorry -- he's a what?"

"An angel, of course. Really, like he could be anything else."

Nothing against him, of course, but he very much was what he was.

"So why are an ageless angel and demon wasting their time with me, a human who'll wither and die? Why go through that for me?"

"Well, it's not exactly our fault you weaseled your way into our lives," he said with an indignant hgk. "But now that you're here, we can't really imagine the place without you."

"I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, and I can't believe it came from a demon."

"Don't let the angel know I let you get away with calling me sweet. He'd never let me live it down."

[benedictscanvas]

omggg in my fluffy needing comfort era and i LOVE how you write jamie tartt x reader- could i make a request for jamie x chronically ill reader where he is just really supportive and loving with someone who is long-term sick? ♥️♥️

of course, my love. thank you for the kind words. i tried to make this as vague as possible so people can relate in their own ways. sending you love! <3 | gn!reader, 1.2k words, tw chronic illness & pain, language

You'd just about managed to get your hair how you wanted it to look for the evening, with minimal swearing for once. Jamie was sat on the bed waiting for you, he'd been ready for a good few minutes now, but you were still reluctant to emerge. There was a wave of pain undulating through you that you were trying to ride out in silence without alerting your boyfriend.

"Y' alright, love? No rush, I wanna be fashionably late anyways," he said from the next room, raising his voice so that it reached you through the closed door. You hardly ever closed doors around each other, so you should have known he'd be worried.

The pain wasn't dissipating, so you took a few deep breaths before stepping out into the bedroom with a smile that you hoped was normal.

"Sorry, my hair wasn't co-operating," you say, tilting your head as you take him in. Navy trousers, white shirt, brown jacket. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, even if he had one more button undone than you would have suggested. Some things didn't change, "You look so good, Jamie."

"Me?" he said incredulously, standing up and huffing out a breath of disbelief, "You look...fuck. I'm not good enough with me words for this."

His hands gesture aimlessly down your outfit and you feel a real smile blossoming under his attention. You take his hands in yours and place them on your waist, stopping his flapping from going further.

"I like your words just fine. And your face," you add with a grin that he returns, curling his fingers into the fabric he's found. A new wave of pain crests and you try your hardest to keep it off your face, but don't think about how your body must tense under his touch. His whole face crumples.

"Ah shit," he murmurs, running his hands down your arms to interlace your fingers together as he takes a step closer, "Why didn't y' say anythin' babe?"

"About what?" you ask pathetically, watching him fix you with a look that said 'cut the shit'.

"Cut the shit," he said, clearly deciding the look wasn't enough, "We agreed, babe, you tell me if it's a bad day so I can help. Or at least try to. Thought we were in a good place with it."

Your heart aches. He really does hate it when you keep your pain to yourself, even though you're not sure he yet understands just how much pain you would be sharing if you shared all of it. You'd been dating for six months, but still wanted to be careful not to scare him off.

"I am. I promise, Jamie, I do tell you it's just..." you struggle for a good explanation that doesn't create any pity in him, "Tonight's big, you know? I want to be a proper girlfriend and I want to burst into tears and kiss you stupid when they call your name for that award."

There is a little bit of pity in his eyes when you've finished, so you can't have done a very good job of it. He squeezes your hands tightly in his.

"Can't say it many more ways," he says softly, "But y' gotta believe that you are me priority, gorgeous. Jus' wanna look after you, y' know. I wanna be a proper boyfriend too."

You'd never thought about it that way. Another wave of pain hits and Jamie's instantly stroking your temple when your eyes clench shut. You feel his lips on the opposite side of your head as he whispers sweet little comforts in your ear.

If it wasn't so painful, maybe you'd be more willing to argue the point with him. It would have to be a battle saved for later, because lying down was the only option for the moment. You could feel the sting of tears; it couldn't have been a worse time for a flare up.

"I'll be there for every other award you win," you say forcefully, but you can't bring yourself to promise. Sometimes you worry you can't promise him enough, but then you see the way he looks at you as he leans backwards again and a lot of that worry falls away.

"You're way too sure that I'm winnin' this award, by the way," he says, a little bashful. It was one of your favourite versions of him, "I'm up against quality."

"None of that. The most creative player in the league this season was you. Hands down. I think you know that really."

He nods, but doesn't look sure still. Then he's stepping away from you as he shrugs off his jacket, throwing it onto the back of a chair and flopping down on the bed.

"Come on then, love. We can fit in a quick episode of whatever you want before the ceremony's on TV."

You stare at him.

"What?"

"Well I'm not fuckin' going without you," he laughs, like that was never an option, "Duh. I'd be bored shitless. I know you need to lie down, babe, come on."

He holds out a hand to you. You take it, still dazed by the sudden turn of events, let him pull you onto the bed and into his arms on top of the covers.

"There we are," he breathes, pressing kisses into the top of your head, "Perfect. We'll have a much better evening bein' able to laugh at Roy makin' a fool of himself for the cameras from 'ere, right?"

Coming back to your senses, you pull yourself out of his arms for a moment so you can look at him properly. He's been acting normal up until now, but when he sees the tears in your eyes, his whole face softens.

"Let's not argue right now, love, please," he begs, "Wanna take care of you, so jus' let me. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Your award..." you choke out, but he shushes you.

"Will be waitin' for me at the club tomorrow. Me speech would have been fucked anyway, so there's nothin' to miss out on."

There's no room for argument in his voice. It's as firm as it is comforting. Relenting as the pain hits once again, you snuggle back into his arms, kissing whatever parts of him you can reach.

"Like my guardian angel," you say, trying not to sound so teary, "So grateful for you, Jamie. Love you so so much."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too," he says, brushing you off as you expected but with fondness in his tone as he pulls you even closer.

"Hey...you just said the award would be waiting. You're finally admitting that you're definitely getting it?"

He chuckles.

"Course I'm getting it. That award's mine, babe," he says, cocky smirk firmly on his face that you can only see in the reflection of the TV. Then he gasps, comically, "Do y' think they'll make Roy do me speech?"

You gasp right back, already feeling better.

"Yes! If you put it on now, we might be able to see him flip people off on the red carpet beforehand."

Jamie grins as he struggles to reach the remote and turns the TV on.

"Fuckin' genius, you are."

---

please see this post if you would like to request your own roy/jamie drabble!! closing soon <3

[soapels]

flash

john “soap” mactavish x female reader

your good friend soap’s been actin’ a lil weird lately… but as long as you keep pretending otherwise, it’ll be okay. right…?

tw: nsfw/smut, reader has this thing where she playfully calls him soapy, friends to lovers sort of, comrades to lovers, alcohol use, emotional?? mentions of and allusions to mental illness

notes: yall this one took a while to cook up, ngl. but soap doesnt get as much love as he should!! so please accept this tender lil fic and enjoy 😖 and tell me if u enjoyed lol i’d be over the moon ♡ once again, readmore is bugging so…. Sorry 🥲

all hearts, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated!

There’s not much in this world that can ease the trauma that war leaves behind.

You’ve been a part of the team for a while, long enough to walk in on things you shouldn’t have- conversations meant for the higher-ups, things your ears weren’t supposed to hear. And you’ve shut your mouth, zipped it up tight and threw the key to the bottom of the sea by silently walking away from it all.

Sometimes you stumble upon things that aren’t inherently wrong, either- like Ghost winding down one night to a bottle of whiskey, a glimpse of his brown, doleful eyes- but it somehow feels out of place, too.

Nothing ever feels right, around here.

But you don’t want to leave, exactly, truthfully you think a big part of you will always be stuck here with the military and blood and gunpowder, like some dirty stain you can never quite scrub away completely.

And even stranger- you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

You dropped the hypothetical shit a while ago, no more dreams of living at the edge of a city in New York or owning a cozy little cafe like that one Simon particularly liked. Stopped wishing over shooting stars and leaning on pipe dreams of your life after the war’s done.

Because the war’s never really done, and that’s why you can’t go. To suddenly walk away from it all, emerge from a cloud of orange smoke to the suburbs- that’d feel worse than suicide, because you never finished shit, you let it finish you.

You’re not gonna leave first, you decided on your fourth mission, at least not on your own volition. Either you go down with the chaos, or you’re lucky enough and don’t.

And… You walk in on things you’re not always supposed to.

Like Soap hunched over by his bunk one quiet evening, the horizon a burning mess of red and deep tangerine outside the small window, curtains billowing ever so softly in the breeze.

…Doin’ something you still can’t find it in you to say.

And you wanted to do something, upon the door creaking open- pull a lighthearted scare on him like he does you sometimes, but more importantly, tell him that your Lieutenant told you to tell him that he’s on cleaning duty tonight. (He never likes cleaning much, Johnny, but he’s damn good at it- fast, too, probably under the incentive of a good night’s sleep.)

But there’s something in the air- must be- because your knees lock up and you gape at the back of his head, one large hand bracing against the bar of the bed, the other… wrapped around his front, jerking jerking jerking.

Confusion kicks in, for a solid moment as you piece it all together- the lack of a lamp light in the sunset-bathed room, the odd quietness and the precaution stitched in the stiff muscles of his back, shirtless and slightly sweating- and then comes the slow realization.

Common sense strikes you next.

You shut your mouth, turn on your heel, eyes bulging and all, nearly trip over your laces-

“Ah-“

And as the door quietly closes, your petrified gaze meeting Soap’s hazy blue one through the diminishing slit, you know you’ve fucked up.

You hear him call your name just before you go, his voice thick and heady, his Scottish accent just a rasping breath as you blink away the mad blush and counter it back with a frail call over your shoulder.

“Uhm- sorry! Ghost- um- h-he said you’re on cleaning duty!!”

Fuck.

♡♡♡

“All water under the bridge, Soapy.”

You tell him confidently after a whole week of awkwardly skirting around him, pretending he was nonexistent sitting across of you in the truck or plane. Truthfully, you were too embarrassed of your mishap to do much otherwise.

But none of that has to be known, so if he spots the nerves in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it, and you’d like to think your little grin is convincing enough.

“Y’sure, lass?” He says uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck as his oceanic hues flit between you and the wall behind you. You nod, sparing a cautionary glance over his shoulder to your comrades swaying around with every bump of the gravel road, bodies knocking together, shoulders brushing and—

“Lass…?”

“Oh,” you blink owlishly, mentally returning back to the male before you, “sorry, guess my mind wasn’t all there.”

“All on good things, I hope?” He offers a half-embarrassed little chuckle there, and when the sentiment clicks, you huff fondly and look away.

“Good things,” you confirm, ever bashful.

And there’s a stretch of peaceful silence; the muted crunch of gravel beneath the big tires, some mild chatter and exchanged banter between your Captain and Gaz (albeit, it comes mostly from Price), and the light rustle of bodies brushing together.

Your mind wanders away in that wordless reprieve, and though you vaguely register Soap’s presence still there- those blue, inquisitive eyes hovering over you- he’s no more than an afterthought as you slowly zone out.

Far. Away.

The glint of the steely rafters overhead. The ripped fabric of the seats. Camo and black and bleakness, everywhere, all the time, no color. You can’t feel your body.

Gunfire. Chaos. Your ears ring, a perpetual bell of terror in your head as adrenaline courses through your veins, fear making its daily rounds within you.

No escape, no red exits or arrows to an end- just you and the field of sand, endless and dry, swarmed with enemies that you can’t find it in you to leave behind for another.

It’s over, something weak and brittle-boned screams inside you, wailing, in the high-pitched voice of a child hiding under the bed. It’s over It’s over It’s over.

It’s over again.

…But he’s there, in all your trembling, concerned sapphire and a boyish sort of gentleness, a gloved hand reaching for you.

(Gunfire, gunfire, gunfire. Something’s nicked your leg, maybe.)

“…You good?”

You gasp inaudibly. Wide, deer-in-headlights gaze meeting a vaguely worried one.

His hand, idly sliding over the length of his gun, almost jitters as he quietly searches you for a sign of response, for a familiar smile or a pleasant little laugh that serves as a salve to his soul.

And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Soap looks earnestly for life in those e/c hues, and finds grains of sand in his boots.

Your lips curl, ever so slightly, and that curse is broken.

“Yes,” you breathe, lashes fluttering down to the gun in your own arms— much too big for you, heavy, full of bullets named home (because you can’t feel safe without them)— and then your eyes fall to your legs, the camo hiding the healing mass of bandages there.

Soap wrapped most of them.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

When his cheeks dust over an unsuspecting red, you realize you’ve fucked up for the second time this week.

Because nobody calls him Johnny. Nobody but your headstrong Lieutenant.

…Jerking your chin away, wordless and tense in the direction of the vehicle’s driver, Soap can tell you’re sorry.

And he sighs then, exasperated- just as you- yet soft, too. His eyes follow yours, equipment jostling quietly in the droning lull of the long trip ahead.

“…No harm done there, lass.”

There’s a trace of a smile on his lips. Exhausted. True.

♡♡♡

Bruises, cuts, heavy fists and evil intent— literal bullets to the skin- you’ve taken it all, yet none of that seems to matter now, every bad memory bleeding into the swirl of your glass, ice tinkling together as you slowly relax into Soap’s sofa.

It smells of him, you think. Something woodsy and unexplainably Johnny- perhaps a trace of minty aftershave…

You feel nice, slumped back into the cushions in a haze- happy, even. Or perhaps not happy, exactly, but dazed and dumb and good. The sweet-tanged concoction too dizzying to think.

You can’t think; good, it must be.

Soap’s sat next to you, clad in faded denim jeans and a white top that clings loosely to his built muscles. His legs are spread somewhat, long made himself comfortable, thighs thick and strong through the rugged-blue material.

His condition’s not far off from yours, sporting a glass of his own, approaching his fifth of the night, though you suspect he holds his alcohol much better, because you hardly ever drink, and you’re already feeling tipsy after the second shot. Meanwhile, he’s still managing to articulate a sentence, a dopey grin occasionally showing on his face.

Sat at the armchair across the coffee table, Ghost is a stoic wreck of fatigue and relief, steadily nursing a bourbon as Soap babbles on about some old highschool story of his.

It’s probably something funny, something the sober you wouldn’t want to miss, something you’d tuck away in your brain for later to poke harmless fun at your pal with. But you’re so tired and lost and intoxicatedly stupid right now, and for the life of you, you can’t convince yourself to turn over and hear him out.

Later, the hopeful part of you whispers, when you’re less fucked up and leaden. (Later never comes.)

Ghost’s brown eyes are glossy beneath his balaclava, a sort of look kin to post-nut clarity glinting in them as he witnesses the two of you slowly. Processing, processing, processing. As if he’s looking through a pane of glass, not really there, but he feels every crippling sensation all the same and his mouth feels awkward, he’s drunk and his tongue is heavy.

He shouldn’t take another sip. He does anyway.

Maybe he’s not listening to Johnny half-coherently list off fables from his youth, maybe he’s simply existing and basking in the otherwise quiet moment-the temporary peace. And maybe Soap knows his Lieutenant zoned off a while ago, that now no ears in the whole entire world are listening to him spill the humorous side of his heart.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. None of it.

…There comes a point, though, where Soap looks over to you.

Those eyes, a murky, inscrutable sapphire, drag over you. Slowly. There’s something on his mind, something heavy and wild and that he can’t control, yet he doesn’t tell a word of it, and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why.

(You’re drunk anyway, you’re done and over with for the night. So what’s it matter anyway?)

(But it’s Soap, so you want to know.)

Finally, those hazy blues settle on your empty glass, clasped loosely in your fingers.

“…Pour y’another?”

You snort halfheartedly, mustering up a joke. (‘Cept, it’s not really funny, and your words are slurring. You sound stupid, you can’t feel your body. Pop pop pop, gunfire in the distance, playing like a broken vinyl cd in the crook of your head…)

“Soap… I don’t think I can take another…”

His chest rumbles low at that.

“S’pose yer right.”

He’s reaching forward, leaning into the coffee table, snatching a bottle and gesturing to your mug anyway.

You’re smiling like a plastered, exhausted bimbo when you obediently proffer it out to him and watch him fill it up. Slowly, but his strong arm’s a little uncoordinated as he pours it, and he almost spills some.

It’s more than you can ever hope to drink right now, you realize as he sets the whiskey back down, pressing the glass back to you. You think with enough ambition and torturous silence, though, you’ll be able to find way to swallow it all.

(The lot of you are good at that.)

It’s when you take your second sip that Ghost rises from the couch.

“I’m done-in for the night.”

He’s fucked up too, bad, you can tell. But he hides it well, always has, hardly a stumble to his step as he spares you a tired, mutual nod and turns in the direction of the hall.

“Sure, Lt,” Soap calls after him, the two of you watching Simon disappear into the dim glow of the hallway. “There’s blankets in the hall closet if y’get too cold.”

And it’s when you hear the soft click of a door, a bed promptly groaning under a foreign weight, that an unprecedented sense of drunken boldness takes over and you rise.

“Lass-?”

(He’s already poised to reach for you, prepared to follow right behind you should you say the word, if something’s wrong.)

Pop pop pop.

You tip your head back, gulping down the liquid- an evident bit of spice that sears your throat, a complimentary vanilla, too- ‘til you’re staring at an empty bottom.

Turnin’ back to Soap.

Jaw slack, eyes a glossy mess of intoxication and confusion- maybe even worry- Soap looks up at you with knitted brows. Ready to sit you back down, perhaps noticing the quiet war behind your dopey blinks- eager to convince you there’s nothing to be afraid of- he shouldn’t have poured you another, it’s time to hit the hay, maybe—

“Johnny,” you say, and it knocks the very breath out of him, “More.”

…More it is.

He belatedly takes your emptied mug in his hands, almost trembling as he snuffs out all of his internal turmoil and brims your glass with more of that addictive substance.

Pours himself another, too. (Figures he’ll need it to sleep tonight. Though, it’ll hurt like hell in the morning- that’s when he’ll truly pay for it.)

Settling back into the sofa (admittedly not in best shape, leather worn-in, a few scratches), he watches you tap in and out of your beverage, and when your hips start to sway- thin fabric of your nightgown shifting along your thighs- a good piece of him (the last of his rationality) burns with the whiskey at the back of his throat.

Oh, you want to butcher him tonight, don’t you?

There’s no sound, just the pleasant backdrop of rain dripping off the apartment’s roof and the occasional car whistling down the city streets, yet you move like it’s your favorite song.

Lazy, loosely-controlled, like every sentiment flows through you like a conduit.

Brokenness there, Johnny finds snapped twigs and bullet shells and the screams that catch deep in your lungs after another close call. But he discovers hope there too, a courageous peace and a beam of your forgiving moon…

Wants to swim in your waters.

(But you don’t bleed the same chaos he’s realized he can. You reek of immovable innocence; he’s beheaded men and liked it- he’s imagined you outside of your hellish job and shimmied out of those thick fatigues- pictured you naked and happy on his cock. And that lovely gown you’re in now makes you so fuckin’ precious in his eyes…)

(It frames you like an angel. You are, Soap knows. You are. And he deserves no part of it.)

Your body ebbs like a tide.

A gentle, hypnotic lullaby that Soap thinks is awfully inviting, jaw stiff at the way your perky ass tempts him beneath the pale silk, jeans growing a touch tighter as the seconds tick by. (Has he been watching you for forever? Have you been swaying for only a moment? He doesn’t know, but—)

It’s enough.

He rises too, then, large hands meeting the curve of your hips, settling there like he’s belonged for some time, eyes hooded as they sweep over the expanse of your neck and collarbones, point of his nose scraping against the column of your throat.

“Want t’kill me tonight, d’you, lass?”

You almost pause for a moment at his touch, he can feel it in the way you stiffen, the faint shiver of your spine. But you don’t let his presence stop you, and for that he’s ever thankful.

“No,” you breathe, and it’s just as soft as it is drunk.

Slurred, and falling apart, still you’re a sight for sore eyes, the callous pads of his fingers slowly riding down the plush of your thigh… “Never, Soapy.”

Soapy. What a fucking nickname. Probably one of the stranger things he’s gotten hard at- not that he’s complaining, because though for anyone else it wouldn’t slide, it sounds so sweet leaving your lips.. makes warmth furl out in his chest…

Hands roaming, roaming, and roaming some more.

Stopping midway, where the frilly hem of that tantalizing gown lies…

Testing your waters, though he wants nothing more than to pull the fabric off you and dive right in.

“Gorgeous thing,” he murmurs back, this time into the side of your jaw, his lips smushing into your cheek as he insinuates himself behind you. Wonderin’ if you fully realize the persistent bulge at your rear-side and if you do, whether or not you like it.

(D’you want him, too? Oh, fuck, he hopes you want him, too. Don’t know what he’ll do otherwise…)

When his thumb grazes against the smooth skin of your belly and you offer no rebuttal, he relaxes some behind you, blood roaring through his ears (down south, too). Hoping you’ll be impossibly generous with him, even if just for tonight, even if you’ll both forget it all by the morning and this little daydream of his will be swept under the rug ‘til he stumbles again and needs to revisit it.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass…” he sort of groans. “Sway those hips s’more for me, yeah…?”

You’re too good, he thinks as you lean back into him and give him just what he asked for, you’re too good and now he’s hot and needy for you. Only you. (Why’s it only ever you?)

The alcohol’s getting to his head, his mouth feels fuzzy and his throat is cotton but he likes it- the embers licking at the pit of his belly doing no favors for his intoxication.

M’ drunk off you, lass. He wants to say, or at least something of the sort. But his lips are sealed, and the patters of rain stay steady outside. And not a word comes out.

Not until his hips start grinding against yours, hands hungrily groping up to the mounds of your tits, and you mewl. You fucking mewl. A soft whine, hardly a breath, really- but it’s somehow satisfied and greedy all at once and Soap knows right then that you need him just as he needs you.

(You need him.)

“Fuck, Y/n,” he grunts, voice thick with arousal, low with remnants of exhaustion. “Let me take ya to m’ room… Please?”

And you do, obedient as he flips you around, carefully hoisting you up, palms cupping the unders of your thighs as he heads off in the direction of the hallway.

He wants to kiss you, to twirl his tongue with yours and taste the sweeter option of liquor you let him pour you tonight, he wants to do everything he’s ever wanted to with you- but he doesn’t.

Sex is one thing- to fuck you is already worse enough but at least he could chalk it up to just blowing off some steam. But kissing... That crossed a whole different line and leapt over into something far more personal.

You two will be in big trouble should Ghost suddenly emerge from the guest room and find you- you’re certain this isn’t allowed, but Soap’s arms are setting you down on his bed and his mouth is suckling at your neck and you like it.

But—

“Johnny,” you whine breathlessly. He somehow, amidst the inebriation and the heady poke of your breasts against his chest- the sin of his name on your tongue- recognizes the hesitance there and finds it in him to pause.

“What?” Voice all raspy and fucked-up. Impatient, slightly harsh.

(But his heart is running so fast it echoes in his brain.)

“This is-…” you swallow. “This is wrong.”

Johnny sighs. “Lass,” the backs of his knuckles brush over your cheek, up along your jaw ‘til his fingers are stroking back your hair, and his eyes are a tsunami, roaring waves folding over a gentle tide as he peers at you.

(Fuck, he sees you. He totally, fully sees you.)

Pupils a blown-out mess of adoration and tenderness and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“M’fraid it all is.”

His lips ghost over yours- for a moment he almost sinks his teeth into the softness there, but at the last second they shift gears and descend upon you, placing a flurry of pecks on your tummy. Down down down, ‘til he’s rucking up your gown and the tip of his nose is burrowing into the dip of your panties- the wetness there exacerbating his raging hard-on.

You shiver violently at his touch, lazily propped up on your elbows as you gape down at him. Your fingers find his head, tangling into his mohawk, grazing against the shaved hair. His eyes glow like a beast, large palms dragging your hips in, bracing into your thighs.

His eyes roll back some at your touch. The gentleness you regard him with in those shimmery eyes of yours- you’ve had him on a tight leash for a while now. He hopes you know, and wonders if you’d loosen his chains a little, just to free him some. (Does he even want to be free?)

“Johnny, I…” (The intensity in his gaze so heady and endless you can’t muster up a proper sentence.)

“…Can make y’happy,” he huffs out, then, his hot breath melding against your clothed pussy- needy and aching for your usually-cheery comrade. “Can make ya cum on my tongue, if that’s what y’want.”

The moon slivers in through the still curtains. His words are slurred. Johnny is so drunk. You are, too. You’ll regret this tomorrow morning if you remember. And you will, of course you will, because you remember everything. (Least, all the things you shouldn’t…)

Johnny, though- cheeks a ruddy mess of infatuation and tender, overwhelming arousal- is worth all of it.

“I jus’ want you,” you breathe incoherently after a belated beat of silence.

There’s a split second of nothingness- where Soap has to piece together your sloppy (yet no less sincere) whisper-

And then there’s a broken little whimper on his end. His fingers hooking into the hem of your panties and tugging ‘em down- vicious, almost. No more waiting. You asked too nicely for him to turn you down anyway.

“You’ll get me.” He whispers coarsely. He hikes your legs up over his shoulders, fumbling flat onto his tummy- still, somehow careful of the bandages around your knee- and doesn’t waste any time.

Diving in, placing a preparatory kiss to to your clit before nuzzling into your folds—

Your head immediately thrashes into his pillows, jaw gaping as you stifle a desperate moan, eyes pinned to the ceiling.

“Oh, Johnny,” you whine, and your voice is so thin- skin so glassy in the flicker of the moon- that he’s sure one wrong touch will break you entirely.

(And he wants to break you, maybe. If only to put your pieces back together, bring you to beautiful ruin on his cock and tongue and fingers and soul, just so he can recombine you after all is said and done. Be the one to kiss away your tears, pocket them like souvenirs- whenever he feels particularly awful he can pull them out and remember how they made your eyes shine like magic 8balls. And for a moment, all the wrong will fade.)

“That’s it, pretty gal,” his palms hold your quivering thighs apart, keeping you mostly steady beneath him. But when he shifts, teases his index finger at the core of you and sinks it in- so deep- so much longer than yours- you let out a shivering moan that the back of your hand can’t hold.

He hushes you, briefly pulling away from your pussy, and you think you hear something close to love there. “Hush, lass,” he whispers. “Much as I want t’hear ya, word gets out to Shepherd and we’re done for.”

Soap gets a shaky, long exhale in return, and from where he lies between your legs, he watches your tummy stutter with every breath, breasts torturing him with every jostle.

“I don’t think I can take it.” You confess.

(Fuck, he has to ruin you.)

He sighs deeply. “You will…”

You beg him a lot; small fingers fisted in his stripe of hair, unwittingly tugging and whining as quiet as you could, that he’d save you the hell and give his cock to you already. But it’s only after you’ve come undone on his tongue that he finally indulges you- though he’s more than willing, fumbling for his slacks as he settles you back down, nose brushing against yours as he lines himself up.

“Tell me you still want it…”

“I want you,” you breathe.

He’s kissing you, cock pushing in with a feral little growl that rocks the both of you, muffled in the swirl of your tongue as his hips meet the underside of your thighs. He pushes ‘em to your chest.

“Fuck, lass, wanted to do this for a while,” he confesses in a breathy sort of whine, and when you whimper confusedly back he pulls away some, gives you a shaky nod. His balls are tight already, belly flipping with arousal and lust and the pure need to fill you up.

“Mhm,” he hums, all reassurance, gentle, uncoordinated fingers smoothing back your hair as he drinks in the sight of you. Perfect beneath him, eyes hardly meeting his, lashes dewy with pleasure- all given by him- breasts jostling like a treat as he drives himself into your warmth.

As tender as he can make it, as good as he can hold back.

“Thought about this for too long. Was so afraid that evening you walked in on me— ah— but… suppose you wanted it too, yeah?”

He’s kissing you again. Why’s he kissing you again-?

“I want ye,” he murmurs against you, and you’re trying so hard not to make a peep, gnawing on your love-swollen lips when Soap finally pulls away for oxygen- but perhaps something inside him snaps, looking down at you, ruined by his hand, because the next thing he says—

“Fuckin’ hell- don’t hold back, lass, don’t care who hears anymore,” he near begs, low voice rubbed raw with alcohol and, well, the sight of you, raising a pitch.

“Y’sound so pretty, so fuckin’ good, just let me hear you…”

And the pathetic part is- he’s already getting close, already feels that niggling, simmering sensation clutching in the pit of his belly as he rams his length in and out of you, watching your pretty face contort with pleasure— all given by him— and—

And when you finally unhook your bottom lip from your teeth and loose a whimpering, wanton moan for him, he comes on the spot.

Witnessing the twisted, cloying expression he makes as he lets out a long, feral groan, you think you come, too.

(Sure felt like it anyway- on Soap’s end, too. Fuck.)

But he just collapses over you, letting your sweaty skin fold against his as he burrows into the crook of your neck, suckles little red and pink marks that’ll linger tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…

“Yr’gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning away some to look you in the eyes.

His glitter with warmth- you suspect he might’ve hidden a tear in the juncture of your neck- and they harbor this unmistakeable, eddying flash of love.

“You know that, yeah? …How gorgeous y’are?”

His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up a ring of baby blue. His calloused palms hold you close. So close. You can’t leave, you think, can’t squirm away even if you wanted to— not in Johnny’s grasp.

You muster up the sweetest, most fatigued little smile, and send it his way. “I-I know, Johnny.”

He shifts one final time, grinning tiredly (still, he’s won a medal, tonight, the best he could’ve ever aspired for) as he makes himself comfortable behind you- still tucked inside you- and wraps his strong arms ‘round your torso.

The bed creaks once more- loud, may you add, because Johnny stopped—

“Bloody hell! Go to sleep, will ya?!”

[sseosapphic]

oh im 100000000% leaving the minqi magic to your creative genius and ill gladly read anything you put out for my babies fr fr 😌✋

˚୨୧⋆Happy Birthday Puppy

Kim Minnie / Nicha Yontararak X Song Yuqi

decided to combine a request & a yuqi birthday celebration post! enjoy minqi for woogs birthday<3

contains: birthday sex,pet-names,praise,degradation , semi-public teasing,humiliation kink,hair pulling,marking/hickeys,dom-minnie,sub yuqi! (third person pov,written with ot6 soojin is still a soloist though)

the light switch flicked on,soft hushes could be heard

“Girls,is that you?” the red haired girl questioned out into the ,seemingly empty living room.

soon she shrugged it off and started to put her stuff down , taking her hoodie off ,until she heard loud noises from behind, startling her

“SURPRISE!!!” the five girls shouted in unison , confetti flying over a few of them ,and balloons popping up from their hands.

“fucking christ..you guys almost gave me a heart attack..is this for me?” a soft smile forming on her face ,as the other girls nodded their heads at her question.

“of course,it’s your birthday after all! We wanna celebrate it with you Yuqi-ah!” the first one to speak up was minnie , giving her a kiss on the cheek and a hug from behind,tightly wrapping around her waist.

“t-thank you guys,this is so sweet of you all..you really didn’t have to-“

“we wanted to yuqi,we wanna celebrate your birthday with you,your special to us!” The youngest spoke rather loudly , apologizing after for the loudness..

-time skip into spending some time all together and they’re a bit tipsy,but shuhua is drunk,they’re all spending time together talking in the living room-

“miyeonnie your face is so flushed from the drinks,and you haven’t had that much!” shuhua giggled , making miyeon pout a bit as shuhua spoke

meanwhile minnie was sitting next to yuqi on the couch while nobody else is next to them,with a blanket covering them. Minnie thought this was the perfect opportunity to tease yuqi a bit,She put her hand onto yuqis inner thigh ,getting closer towards her crotch

“M-Min what are you doing..” Minnie giggled a bit in response “I’m having some fun yuqi-ah,you haven’t stopped me yet..” it was true yuqi hasn’t stopped minnie ,and she didn’t want it to stop at all. Minnie’s hand was creeping closer and closer to yuqis ,by now wet core..

“Hey yuqi can you come help me really quickly? I think i’ve forgot your gift in my room and i just remembered ,i wanna see your reaction first before anyone else’s..” Yuqi catching on quickly nodded ,headed towards minnie’s room where she shut the door behind them , soon yuqi was pulled into a kiss by minnie.

“You..drive me fucking crazy..” Minnie gasped through kisses, then pushed yuqi back towards the bed , unbuttoning her shirt tossing it somewhere in the room.

“I hope you enjoy your birthday present..puppy” whispering into yuqis ear,making the girl whine from the pet name.

she started to plant soft kisses down yuqis neck,going lower near her chest,ripping her bra off,as-well as her own shirt.

“M-Min..please..a-ah..need you so bad..” gasping out as minnie’s mouth latched itself onto yuqis breast,kissing and biting her nipple,and playing with her other one making sure to not leave it un-attended.

“So cute..my cute little puppy..” minnie murmured into the girls chest , kissing down her tummy,reaching her shorts,unbuttoning them and pulling the black pair of shorts down off her legs. Being left with yuqis pink lacy panties,pulling them down with only her teeth,the sight made yuqi groan out in pleasure.

minnie stared in awe at how wet yuqi was already, “so pretty..can’t wait to taste you..” letting a few kitten licks at yuqis cunt ,already making the girl go crazy,moaning out decently loud with how desperately she needed the older girl.

“N-Nicha~! Please..Fuck!” Hearing her proper name encouraged her,not to use her tongue though,to use her fingers with all the comments people make on her hands,hell even her own members acknowledge how her hands look,she wanted to put them to use. She pulled away from yuqis cunt ,making yuqi confused but soon plunged two of her long fingers inside yuqi. Her middle and ring finger going in and out of the younger girl,making her gasp in pleasure,moaning out her name.

“You’re such a pretty puppy when my fingers are stretching you out..you sound so pathetic too..so cute” Nicha purred into yuqis ear ,kissing her neck and then her lips,yuqi desperately grabbed nichas face pulling her into a heated makeout session, but nicha soon pulled away,aswell as pulling yuqis hair while thrusting into yuqi at a much faster and rougher pace now.

“Such a good puppy for me,aren’t you woogs? Im pretty sure you left the door unlocked baby..what would you do if one of the girls walked in on you being fucked like a pathetic puppy right now? you’d get off to that wouldn’t you baby..you’d let them see how much of a mess you make for me,wouldn’t you?

yuqi nodded her head rapidly,barely being able to form a coherent sentence,whimpering in pleasure ,but nicha pulled her hair.

“Respond when im talking to you,got it puppy? Now answer me.” nicha spoke curling her fingers into that one spot of yuqis.

“M-Mhm! would let everyone s-see how much of a mess i am for y-you..A-ah~! nicha! please..right there..m so close..puppy wants to..wanna cum..”

Nicha smiled softly at her words,thrusting into that same spot again , “Cum for me puppy,make a mess on my fingers..” she purred into yuqis ear,making yuqi moan loudly,and cum all over nichas fingers,making a mess.

Minnie slowly pulled out of yuqi (who was fucked out) And just looked yuqi in the eyes as she sucked on her fingers ,that were covered in yuqis cum,which earned a moan out of yuqi.

minnie patted the other side of the bed pulling the blanket over them,as she held yuqi.

“need anything,food,water,want me to run you a bath?”

yuqi shook her head “just stay with me right now..” Minnie smiled at her words.

soon they heard a loud bang on the door

“Are you two done? miyeon walked in on both of you like twice but neither of you noticed,we can’t tell if she’s scared or turned on,just let us know when you guys are finished! Happy birthday woogs,i hope minnie was fun!” soojin softly shouted from the other side,her footsteps were heard walking away

“oh.” both of them said in unison

[creepy-friday]

Creepypasta Jeff x Proxy fem!Reader

|"Good person"|

Warnings: angst,drugs mentions

"I need you to tell me that I am a good person" ~inspired by Bojack

"Jeff?" you asked the man next to the tree,his figure being shallowed whole by the shadows of the night.To be honest,you didn't expect the smiling killer to be out at the time you ended your demon hunt,was he high?

"I'm not fucking high." he broke the silence with an angry tone as if reading your thoughts."You're staring at me like you haven't seen a fucking-just,let me be,kay'?I fucked up a little,I need some time out.No jokes,no funny business,just leave to your witch hunt or something.." the pale man mumbled loud enough for you to hear.

Jeffrey sure was an odd individual,and without question he suffered some sort of mental illness,but you never pressed anyone to open up to you.It wasn't your job to be their therapist-but to calm down any outburts that would cause trouble.

This is the first time you have this much time to stare at him like that,the first time he doesn't have any spark in his eyes nor any blood on his clothes.

Instead of trailing off you noticed how he simply stared at his hands,a white dust being nearly visible on them.Did he lost his drugs?Was he having a withdrawal?Maybe he was injured and didn't want to tell you like a little bitch.

Your accusations were interrupted by the man's tears that started to trickle down his pale cheeks,falling down his sickly figure.

"I need you to tell me that I am a good person." he whispered,head titled down as his eyes moved from one place to the other,as if he was searching on the ground for a reason for you to respond.

Why did he need your approval?Why yours?Were you two even close to begin with in order for him to consider your opinion?

You clenched your jaw and continued to look next to him,sharing a comfortable silence yet to be filled with sadness.After a few moments the dark haired man suddenly moved his hands to wipe his tears."Sorry,that was a moment of uhh.." he continued to rub his hands on the pale skin of his face until he left red marks on it.

"Of weakness.Yeah.." he stood up,looking for a second in your eyes then focusing on the empty space next to you."fuck." his eyes grew wide then an expression of utter disgust mixed with despair appeared on his features

"Ah,FUCK!" his eyebrows furrowed as he moved his hand trough his dark locks.

"Jeff,calm down." the sudden response from you made him jump.

"I am calm-I am fucking calm." the memories of his 18 year old self flooded his mind,from the psychiatrist who told him to calm down to his brother.

"Listen,Y/N,just this once,do not talk to anyone about this.See,I am calm." he stated,voice as clear as ever as his eyes betrayed him."Forget this."

"Just..ha..I had my moment." he joked as he hurried past you,leaving you all alone.You didn't chase after him,but looked as he disappeared trough the trees.

Upon a closer look at the spot he used to sit on,you noticed one of his knives. Surprisingly,this one was clean and devoid of any red substances.Picking it up you further analysed it,deciding on which option was the best one-to give it back to the killer or to leave it be-like you left him hanging on his question.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎 I love my team, I love my crew (Part 4/7)

Title from Super (SEVENTEEN)

ILMTILMC Part I ILMTILMC Part II ILMTILMC Part III

Summary: Jeonghan quickly learns that taking care of so many sick members is a hard task, even with a medic helping them out.

CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness, fainting, IVs

Sickies: Seungkwan + S.Coups/Seungcheol + Minghao + Woozi/Jihoon Caretakers: Jeonghan + Vernon + Mingyu + Dino/Chan + Jun + Hoshi/Soonyoung + Wonwoo

💎😇

Jeonghan was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Just the thought of the next days made him want to cry. He was the eomma-hyung for God’s sake. Not the organizer. That was Seungcheol’s job. But with Seungcheol down for the count it fell to Jeonghan to try to puzzle out how to take care of a contagious epidemic in the middle of the fucking sea with only a limited amount of staff - some of which who were already sick as well - instead of just taking care of the members like he wanted.

It was nearly welcome to hold back Seungkwan’s hair as he threw up over the railing again. After the medic had gone to check his supplies and Jun had turned back to try and coax Minghao out of the bathroom, Jeonghan had decided to go check on the two maknaes. 

Vernon looked slightly terrified and Seungkwan was so pale and queasy it was painful to watch. The youngest vocalist was shaking badly in Jeonghan’s arms, knees threatening to give out. And they did the moment Seungkwan was able to stop retching. Carefully Jeonghan lowered them down, letting Seungkwan manipulate him into a position that seemed to be comfortable for him.

“Hyung, everything hurts”, Seungkwan whispered, steady tears falling down his face and wetting Jeonghan’s tank top, “make it stop.” 

Jeonghan felt about ready to cry with him, feeling so sorry towards the younger. It took a lot to reduce Seungkwan to tears, but steady unrelenting pain would do it. It was nearly comical - Seungkwan had managed to stay mostly calm whenever he got injured but the few times he had been plagued by body aches due to a fever he had been inconsolable. 

“I’m so sorry, baby”, he whispered back, “I wish hyung could take the pain away.”

“Do you want to lie down in one of the bunks downstairs?”, Vernon asked, sitting across from Jeonghan and moving his hand in comforting patterns over Seungkwan’s back. “You might be more comfortable in a real bed.”

“I think that is a very good idea, Nonie. What do you think, Kwan-ah?”

Seungkwan blinked up at them and after a second of consideration, nodded. “Can I have some painkillers too?”

“Of course”, Vernon promised and, in an uncharacteristic display of fondness, kissed the older’s forehead. “Can you walk?”

It took all of Vernon’s and Jeonghan’s strength but Seungkwan couldn’t support himself. There was no way he’d make it across the deck, through the hallway, down the stairs and to any of the rooms.

“Hyung?”, Jeonghan called the manager over, who had respectfully stood back, “can you carry Seungkwan-ah down to the room I share with Cheollie and so on? I think we should get Cheollie laying down there too, so the members are less spread out.”

“Good thinking, Han-ah”, the manager praised and hefted Seungkwan to his chest, the vocalist’s head falling against his shoulder. They quickly disappeared down the hall, Vernon trailing after them.

Jeonghan wished he felt better after the praise. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. No rest for the wicked.

When he entered the living area, he spotted Mingyu holding Seungcheol on his lap with Dino nowhere to be seen. Oh God, was the maknae sick too? Jeonghan felt his heart beating faster and he faltered in the doorway, feeling like his breathing was compromised. He couldn't deal with another sick member today.

“Hannie-hyung, are you alright?”, Mingyu asked, sounding concerned and slightly panicked. 

“I’m fine”, Jeonghan quickly said, brushing the concern away, “where is Dino-yah?”

“He’s getting ice packs for Cheollie-hyung. He’s burning.” The concern in Mingyu’s voice had barely lessened and it was at that moment that Jeonghan remembered the younger's distaste for sickness. Was he asking too much of the members? Should they have tried to separate the healthy members after all?

“Oh. Uhm, well, can you carry Cheollie down to his room? A manager is bringing Seungkwan there too.” Jeonghan still felt breathless but Mingyu didn’t seem to notice.

“Kwan-ah is sick too?”, Mingyu asked. Right, he didn’t know. He wasn’t there.

Shit. What had Jeonghan missed because he wasn’t there? Had another member fallen sick in the meantime? How were Seokmin and Wonwoo and Hoshi and Jun doing? Vernon had seemed fine and Mingyu said he and Dino were too, but were they really? And what about Minghao, was he becoming too dehydrated? And Jeonghan hadn’t even seen Jihoon and Joshua since they had fallen sick.

So much could have happened. Frantically, Jeonghan patted his pockets, all but dropping his phone when he found it and opened the group chat. Maybe if something had happened, a member would have asked for help there?

But all he found in the chat after he had asked the members to come to the living room was a picture of Jihoon, asleep and curled around an otter stuffy, courtesy of Soonyoung. The picture was just plain cute and Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile a bit. 

“Why are you looking so happy, Hannie-hyung?”, Dino asked, coming inside and carrying ice packs in one hand and a thermos of tea, likely, in his other hand. 

Jeonghan turned around his phone to show it to Dino and Minygu who both cooed. “Hoshi-hyung is so dead”, Mingyu giggled.

Seungcheol, who must have not been asleep and just resting with his eyes closed, mumbled a sleepy and kind of delirious sounding: “Horanghae. Wooahae. Saranghae.”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh, the other two joining in. “You’re completely right, ddaddu.”

Mingyu calmed down first and asked: “You said to bring hyung to his room?”

“Yeah. It’s better to have the members not spread out all over, I think. Then us healthy ones can help each other better.” 

Five minutes later, Seungcheol and Seungkwan were cuddled up on one of the small bunks in the cabin. It hadn’t been the plan, necessarily, but the two had taken one look at each other and Seungkwan had announced he wanted a personal heating pad for his pains and Seungcheol seemed content enough to have a cuddly dongsaeng in his arms.

Confident that Dino and Vernon had the two handled for the time being, Mingyu asked Jeonghan for permission to go help the noona cook. It was a good idea, many of the members needed nutrients soon and Mingyu seemed to be vibrating out of his skin.

When he stepped outside into the hallway as well, Jeonghan was greeted by the medic. “Jeonghan-ssi? I got some fever reducers but most of the nausea medication I have is actually catering towards seasickness. We can try how much it helps. But I’m gonna be honest: We don’t have enough, not for thirteen members and certainly not for staff on top. The medications packed considered slight motion sickness and maybe a normal flu, some injuries. I suggest sailing back as soon as we can so they can get real medications as soon as possible.”

“I think Seungcheol and Seungkwan mostly need fever reducers…”, Jeonghan started but then a loud yell interrupted him. “Hyung!”

It sounded like Jun.

Not caring to check if the medic was following him, Jeonghan ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. In the small hallway Jun was kneeling on the ground, hovering over an unconscious Minghao. 

The medic, apparently behind him, cursed and pushed past Jeonghan to kneel down at Minghao’s head. Jeonghan dropped down next to Jun, wrapping one arm around the older Chinese member’s back in comfort. Jun looked incredibly spooked.

“What happened?”, the medic asked, “Jeonghan-ssi, elevate his legs.”

Reluctantly Jeonghan let go of Jun and sat down on his other side, so he could lift Minghao’s legs into his lap. Jun reached across the distance and took Jeonghan’s hand in his as he shakily explained: “I got him to open the bathroom door but when he tried to step out he just crumpled. I mean, I kind of thought he would faint at some point, but still I only barely managed to catch him.”

“No matter how close it was, you caught him”, Jeonghan said, comforting himself as much as Jun. A concussion on top of this would have been a disaster. Jun squeezed his hand in thanks.

The medic checked Minghao’s vitals and quickly came to the conclusion that it was a mix of dehydration, fever and exhaustion that caused the dancer to pass out. It wasn’t really a surprise.

“I suggest putting him on IV medication. He needs fluids, he lost too much and even if he drank a lot right now and it stayed down I doubt it would be enough. See, he is barely even sweating anymore.” Jeonghan could feel the dryness and heat of Minghao’s skin where we held onto his calf. 

“Let’s put him into …”, Jeonghan trailed off. 

Seungkwan and Seungcheol kind of filled the ratio of sick members and available bathrooms in their room already. If Joshua’s headache was as bad as Seungkwan had told him before he was out of commission himself then there was no way he could tolerate another member with him, especially a loudly sick one. As far as Jeonghan knew … no wait, Soonyoung and Wonwoo had put Jihoon to bed. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best solution he could think of.

“Let’s put him with Jihoonie.”

Neither Jeonghan or Jun were really equipped to carry Minghao down the stairs, even if he was light he was still dead weight at the moment. If he could hold himself up on Jun’s back it might have worked but now it was very awkward to lift him between them and on the stairs they realized the problem. The stairway was too narrow. 

In the end, Jun held onto Minghao’s shoulders and Jeonghan onto his legs, carefully walking down the stairs backwards. 

Once down in the hall, Jun stopped in his tracks and rather suddenly said: “We could have just asked Hoshi or Wonwoo for help.”

Jeonghan wanted to face-palm but he didn’t think Minghao would appreciate getting dropped. It was stupid, he should have thought of that. Well, it was too late now.

The medic opened the door for them and quickly they carried Minghao in. Soonyoung, who had been sitting on the bed beside a still asleep Jihoon, jumped up in shock. “What happened?”

“He passed out”, Jeonghan said grimly, still beating himself up a bit about the stairs situation. It was so ridiculous. “Let’s put him down.”

Soonyoung grimaced. “Poor Hao. Wonwoo took out Jihoon’s blankets to wash them, if you want to cover him up, use the ones from the top bunks.”  

Once Minghao was placed down on the bed, the medic looked him over again before plastering a motion sickness patch on his wrist and setting up the IV. Jun was with Minghao and the younger was still unconscious after all, so Jeonghan took the chance to kneel down next to Jihoon, pushing the trash can a bit away to make space for himself. Feeling his forehead, Jeonghan realized that the vocalist was warm, yes, but not even coming close to Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

“How is he doing?”

“Wonwoo said he hasn’t been able to keep any medication down. Bit of a fever, though we haven’t had a thermometer to check. Pretty sure that his stomach is hurting him a lot, look how curled into himself he is. He doesn’t sleep like that normally”, Soonyoung pointed out. 

Jeonghan pushed the blanket away and placed his hand against Jihoon’s stomach. He could feel it cramping angrily even through the pajamas. From previous experience Jeonghan knew that Jihoon enjoyed the feeling of a hand against his upset stomach whenever he was sick, once in the throes of a fever and stomach bug explaining that it felt good and made him able to focus on something but the pain. 

After a few moments of touch, Jihoon sleepily blinked his eyes open. 

“Sssh, everything’s alright”, Jeonghan whispered, “go back to sleep.”

“Hyungie?”, Jihoon mumbled and stared at Jeonghan with big eyes before starting to tug on Jeonghan’s other arm. For a moment Jeonghan was confused but then Jihoon whispered a sleepy “Hug?”.

Jeonghan smiled a bit, knowing how seldom it was for Jihoon to ask for comfort, a hug even less, so he decided to indulge him. He sat down on the edge of the bed, helping Jihoon sit up a bit so he could slide in under the younger. Within seconds Jihoon had about half his body curled up on Jeonghan’s lap. 

“My stomach hurts”, Jihoon whispered, his muscles clenching as he rode out another wave of pain. Holding him in his lap Jeonghan was able to gauge how badly it must be hurting the younger. There was a fine line of sweat on his brow and he had never seen Jihoon this pale. “I’m still kinda queasy but can I try some pain meds again? I was able to keep down the anti-emetic earlier.”

“Do you want an IV instead?”, Jeonghan offered instead, “the medic is here already, it’s no issue.”

Jihoon frowned and then blink into the direction of the other bed. Soonyoung, when he saw Jihoon turn, gave a small wave but the producer was fixated on Minghao’s prone form. “Shit, I remember the manager saying that Minghao wasn’t feeling so good and something was up with Shua-hyung … what’s going on?”

“Norovirus, if I’m not mistaken”, the medic said, standing up after finishing putting the needle into Minghao’s arm. He was fiddling with securing the bag of fluids on the railing of the upper bunk and once satisfied, turned around. “I’d like to check you over too, Woozi-ssi, if that is alright?”

Jihoon pressed himself a bit further against Jeonghan, shrinking back from the stranger. Jeonghan sighed and gently pressed Jihoon’s arm in comfort. The younger was often uncomfortable with new staff, hesitant to show vulnerability even to the members and now he was feeling sick and was in pain and people were staring at him and a stranger wanted to approach him. No wonder he was scared.

“I just want to take a painkiller and be done with it”, Jihoon whispered, not meeting anybody's eyes. 

“Do you have any special concerns regarding his health?” Thank heavens for Soonyoung. He turned the medic’s attention to himself, obviously understanding that Jihoon was deeply uncomfortable. “If not, I think it’s best to just let him do what he is comfortable with. It’s not you, he’s just not a fan of strangers. Especially when unwell.” 

“Not especially. If he can keep down medications and liquids he should be fine. Take his temperature regularly”, the medic explained, nodding in understanding, “if you have any concerns come get me, but I get that you’d rather be alone with your members. Use a motion sickness patch for good measure.” He handed the patch to Soonyoung and looked at Jihoon who returned his smile with a shaky one of his own.

“Thank you.”

“Well, Minghao-ssi should be okay with the IV - I put him on fluids, an antiemetic and an antidiarrheal. If you want me to, I can go look at the other members now.”

“Your help is greatly appreciated”, Jeonghan said, “I …”

He really wanted to accompany the medic to the other members. It seemed like he hadn’t seen Seungcheol and Seungkwan in ages and he hated that the two healthy maknaes were left alone with them. And Joshua, he hadn’t even seen him since before everything started. 

But he also had a lapful of cuddly, unwell Jihoon. 

“Stay here, Hannie-hyung”, Jun said, obviously understanding Jeonghan’s struggle. “I’ll go with him and see how the others are doing.”

“Thanks, Junnie.”

As the medic and Jun left, Jeonghan and Hoshi were left with a pale Jihoon. They really needed to get painkillers into him as soon as possible. Maybe another dose of antiemetic. Considering that Jeonghan was stuck holding Jihoon, Soonyoung grabbed the meds from Jihoon’s bag. At least he had the medication already available. 

Soonyoung squatted down next to them, gently placing the patch on Jihoon’s wrist, and brushed back a strand of bleached hair that had fallen out of Jihoon’s braid. “Drink”, he encouraged and held a water bottle to the producer’s lips. Jihoon took a few reluctant sips and even let Soonyoung pop the pills into his mouth. Priority seemed to keep a hold of his aching stomach with one hand and of Jeonghan’s hand with the other. 

“I wanna sleep”, he whispered and closed his eyes. 

“Can you let me up first, baby?”, Jeonghan asked gently, “I promised I’ll stay close as long as I can but I don’t want to accidentally wake you if one of the other member’s needs me.”

Jihoon whined a bit, Jeonghan wasn’t even sure if he was aware that he was making that sound, but he let Jeonghan slip away from under him without further protest. Jeonghan made good on his promise: He sat down on the ground by his dongsaeng’s head and played with his hair until Jihoon’s breathing turned even.

“What do we do now, hyung?”, Soonyoung asked, having sat down on the bed by Minghao’s side. 

Jeonghan took a deep breath, trying to fight back the tendrils of anxiety that now snaked around his heart as the action had died down. He was so worried for his members. 

“I don’t know, Soonyoung-ah. I don’t know. We wait and pray.”

ILMTILMC Part V

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[stonesparrow]

Save The World Any%

After getting shot in Araxá, Senku wakes up in his fifteen year old body on the day he first broke free from the petrification, nearly four years before. He then decides to use his knowledge of future events to defeat Why-man as fast as humanely possible. The world won’t know what hit it.

Read on ao3!

One second, Senku’s lying on the ground bleeding profusely from his chest as the petrification light spreads across his body, the darkness closing in on him as he smiles triumphantly at Xeno. 

The next, the pain in his chest has vanished completely, and he’s staring up at the sunlight falling over his face through a canopy of lush green trees.

Senku blinks. When he sits up, chunks of stone and moss fall from his body, and he finds himself staring straight at the open face of a very familiar cave. 

“Huh,” he says.

Then his face breaks out into a wide grin. 

“Kukuku, how very interesting.”

TIME: 00:00:00:00

---------------

Despite having a pretty comprehensive plan in mind for this second go around, Senku still ends up spending a fair bit of time getting food, shelter, and clothes again—losing what little stamina he’d built up and being reset to his fifteen-year old body is rather frustrating. But he’s been given a chance to do things better, more efficiently, and he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. 

And it does end up being faster, because now he knows how to make a good stone axe, now he knows how to make waterproof pots, how to make a good bone needle.

He still writes the mass-energy equivalence formula on his clothes. It doesn’t seem right to not have it.

The most important thing he knows however is of course, the revival fluid formula, and where to find grapes for wine. And so within two months, he’s got it.

SPLASH!!

“Gwuh-huh?!” Taiju splutters, shaking the stone bits from his hair before his eyes go wide and he gasps. “SENKU!!”

Senku grins. “Hey, big oaf.”

Tears flow from Taiju’s eyes and he launches himself at Senku. Or he would, if he wasn’t still halfway buried in the ground. Luckily it doesn’t take Taiju that much time to dig himself out, with Senku’s help.

Soon however, Senku realizes that Taiju actually doesn’t remember Araxá, or anything from after he was turned to stone. When they go to wake up Yuzuriha right afterwards, she’s the same. 

Ah well, Senku can work with this. 

“Alright!” he grins at his two best friends, who are eager to help as always. “First thing’s first, we’re going to Hakone!”

Ideally he’d wake up Gen and Nikki and some of the stronger guys to help out, but Senku doesn’t know where any of them are right now—he knows Minami would know, but he doesn’t know where she’d be right now. And he’s not about to wake Tsukasa up to find out. They were cool back in 5742, sure, but Senku just really doesn’t want to deal with 5738 Tsukasa right now. 

Besides, it would take time to find them. And Ruri doesn’t deserve to suffer for that long.

“Oh yeah, one more thing,” he says before they set out. Taiju and Yuzuriha stare at him curiously. 

“What is it, Senku-kun?” Yuzuriha asks. 

He crosses his arms. “You’ve both been crying to me about your massive crushes on each other since we were eleven and it’s fucking obnoxious. Get it together or I’m going to have a goddamn aneurysm.”

They stare at him. 

“What?” Taiju croaks.

Senku’s already running over the next hill. “GET IT TOGETHER! CHOP CHOP!”

ACHIEVEMENT: Revival fluid acquired!

Taiju joined the party!

Yuzuriha joined the party!

TIME: 67:11:04:33

---------------

Just as she does every day, Kohaku wakes up bright and early to get Ruri’s bathwater. When she gets there however, she’s startled by the presence of three people her age she’s never seen before at the hot springs—a girl and two boys. 

The shorter of the boys crosses his arms and grins at her. “Heya, Lioness! Name’s Ishigami Senku, son of Ishigami Byakuya. Do you happen to need a cure for a coughing illness?”

Kohaku blinks. “What?”

---------------

“I’m, sorry, you met who now?” Jasper frowns. 

“Look I really don’t know how to explain this properly,” Kohaku says, hand to her forehead. “Can I just talk to Ruri?” 

Ruri pokes her head out of the hut. “What is it, Kohaku? Everything okay?”

“Uh well,” Kohaku scratches her head. “Does the name Ishigami Senku sound familiar?”

Ruri’s eyes go wide.

ACHIEVEMENT: Ishigami Village allegiance acquired!

TIME: 69:09:41:01

---------------

“Wait this is like, a lot to process,” Chrome says as Senku draws out the roadmap on the ground for the whole village to see. “You’re the son of the Founder, you were asleep for three thousand years, and you also know how to make a medicine to cure Ruri?”

“Yeah,” Senku says, tapping the ground. “Now let's get this over with so she doesn’t have to marry you from her sickbed.”

Chrome’s face turns bright red. “WHAT?!”

“Oh, and Kinro!” Senku yells over at him. “You need glasses!”

Kinro blinks. “What is he talking about?” he murmurs to Kohaku. She shrugs. 

Four months later and everyone is in tears as Ruri takes her first clear breaths in years. 

“How can I repay this kindness?” Kokuyo asks Senku, practically sobbing as he hugs a laughing Ruri to his chest.

Senku grins. “Weeeeell…you could let me borrow Chrome, Kaseki, Kohaku, and Suika for a hot minute.”

Suika looks up from where she’s making straw dolls with Yuzuriha and Kaseki. “EHH??!”

ACHIEVEMENT: Cure Ruri!

TIME: 189:16:17:02

---------------

“Senku-kun?”

“Yes Yuzuriha?”

“Remind me again why we’re blowing up the hillside here?”

Senku shovels some dirt to the side. “Looking for a kid.”

“See no, I get that,” Yuzuriha says, waving at Taiju and Chrome as they’re carting over the next round of dynamite. “But…why?”

“Don’t worry,” Senku says, shoveling more dirt away. “All part of the plan.”

When they find and revive her, Shishio Mirai blinks up at them in confusion.

“You’re not the doctor,” she says curiously to Senku. He smiles. 

“Nope. But I’ll take you to your brother now, if that’s alright with you.”

She lights up. “Okay! Thank you!”

Taiju leads them to where he found Tsukasa’s statue, and as soon as the stone flakes off his eye he spots his sister and freezes. 

“Mirai?” he says it like a prayer. 

“Tsukasa-nii!” Mirai cheers, throwing her arms around him. 

They get Tsukasa dressed and he holds his hand out to Senku. 

“Thank you,” he says, voice quivering slightly with Mirai tucked into his other side. “I thought…I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Please, what can I do to repay you?”

Senku grins. “You ever heard of a reporter named Hokutozai Minami?”

Tsukasa joined the party!

TIME: 200:14:27:54

---------------

“Oh,” Minami says as they’re making a list of people to revive. “Do you think a spear-user would be useful? There’s this one kudayari athlete, Akatsuki Hyoga—”

“Nope,” Senku says. 

“Eh? But we’re pretty limited on weapons,” Minami points out. “An expert might be hel-“

“Nope,” Senku repeats. “Nuh uh. Noooo.”

Minami sighs. “Well, okay…”

Hyoga did not join the party!

---------------

“I can’t believe all it took was glasses for Kinro to win the entire tournament,” Ginro says in amazement as the party for the new chief continues into the night. “Science sure is powerful…”

“Eh, it was mostly him, the glasses just leveled the playing field,” Senku says, biting into a roast fish. “Anyway, Chrome, since Ruri and Kinro got amicably divorced I fully expect an invitation to your wedding within the week.”

“Why are you like this?” Chrome hisses, face beet red. “Anyway, shouldn’t we worry about Magma? He’s totally pissed at us for what happened!”

“Nah, Gen got him and Yo to start competing and now he’s spending all his energy on that instead,” Senku says, picking fish bones out of his teeth. “And Tsukasa’s keeping an eye on him, it’s no problem.”

“Modern timers sure are weird,” Kohaku remarks.

“I’m fairly certain that’s just Senku-chan,” Gen says.

ACHIEVEMENT: Resolve the Grand Bout!

TIME: 378:20:06:51

---------------

When Kirisame and Mozu are sent to deal with a mysterious boat that’s appeared on the shore, they’re both pretty certain it’ll be a quick job.

But when Kirisame throws the petrification weapon, some sort of flying creature suddenly appears and snatches it out of the air, and to their shock and confusion the beam completely misses the entire boat. 

“What the—?!” Kirisame exclaims, the rope having been pulled right out of her hand. 

The strange bird drops down to the deck of the boat and a young man with green hair plucks the petrification device from it with a wild grin, looking directly at the two warriors.

“Get the device!!” Kirisame yells, and she and Mozu leap aboard the enemy’s craft, but before they can so much as swing their weapons—

“Three meters, one second.”

---------------

“That was awesome!” Ryusui chortles. “The drone worked perfectly, they didn’t know what hit them!”

“I’m still confused as to how we knew exactly which direction they’d come from,” Ukyo mutters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Senku says. “It all worked out fine.”

“Did you have to catch me in the blast too?” Gen whines as Chrome is revived. “That was terrifying!”

“Hey, it got them, didn’t it?” Senku shrugs as he dumps revival fluid on a tied-up Kirisame. She blinks in confusion.

“Wh—I’m alive? But how?!”

Senku pulls Soyuz forward and snaps his fingers in front of Kirisame’s face. “Yo! Your Master is dead, here’s your prince, we’re gonna throw a coup now.”

Kirisame stares at Soyuz, eyes widening in recognition.

“WHAT?!”

---------------

It’s been a weird day for Amaryllis. First she misplaced her basket, then she accidentally burned lunch, and then messengers came from the capital saying that Minister Ibara had been discovered as a traitor and was defeated by their new Master, the long lost son of the first Master who had been unjustly killed by Ibara. The harem obligation has been completely abolished, and apparently the new Master had a bunch of friends from far away who brought with them an elixir that could cure petrification!

It all gets to be rather much, and Amaryllis finds herself sitting outside her hut in a daze realizing that someone beat her to the punch to overthrow the tyrannical leadership. She won’t have to join the harem. They can revive her friends.

She’s free. 

Then of course, every young man in the village suddenly appears at her feet begging her to marry them. Amaryllis stares for a second, then bursts out laughing.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you all,” she grins as they all blink in confusion and dismay, “But you’re going to have to get to know the real Amaryllis before you can hope to win my hand.”

No more fake tears. No more pretending to be silly and sweet and mindless. The true Amaryllis is finally back.

On the other side of the island, a ship is sailing away, and Senku waves to Soyuz triumphantly.

ACHIEVEMENT: Reclaim Soyuz’s throne!

ACHIEVEMENT: Medusa acquired!

ACHIEVEMENT: Platinum acquired!

TIME: 668:13:07:42

---------------

When he open fires on the strange ship that’s coming up the river, Stan notices that they all instantly duck behind heavy walls that look…almost like they’ve been set up in anticipation of gunfire.

He’s about to circle around for another round when suddenly one of the young women leaps up and throws something. 

A flash of green, and everything goes dark. 

“Oh my god,” Gen says as they haul the wrecked plane onto the shore. “We didn’t kill him, did we?”

“Naaaah, he’ll be fine,” Senku says. “Right Yuzuriha?”

“You owe me a five hour modeling session,” she says pleasantly as she puts the smaller pieces of Stanley Snyder in her basket. 

Senku shrugs. “Fair enough.”

---------------

“Hmm.”

“What is it boss?” Brody asks.

“Something’s wrong with Stan’s radio,” Xeno says. “He’s not answering.”

“Maybe those strangers shot him down,” Maya says, frowning.

“No way!” Charlotte declares. “Captain Snyder is a top class pilot. Even if the trespassers have guns like ours, he wouldn’t allow himself to get shot out of the air so quickly!”

“Something’s definitely up though,” Brody says. 

“I concur,” Xeno nods. “Charlotte, take the second plane and go investigate.”

“Yes sir.” She moves towards the door, but then suddenly it opens.

“Dr. Xeno, sir,” Leonard says. “We’ve discovered a trespasser.”

“Oh? Do bring them in,” Xeno clasps his hands over his lap. Two burly soldiers escort a young blonde man into the room between them. He looks half-Asian. 

“Good morning!” He says cheerfully in barely-accented English. “You sure have a nice place here! I desire such architectural talents myself!”

“And I desire to know who you are,” Xeno says. “And what you plan on doing here, if you would be so kind.”

The man smiles. “Three hundred meters, one second.”

“What?”

Everything goes green. 

---------------

“I can’t believe you volunteered for such a dangerous mission,” Ukyo says, shaking his head at Ryusui. 

Ryusui laughs. “It was pretty fun, actually!”

Senku dumps the revival fluid over Xeno, who stares at him in amazement.

“Senku Ishigami?”

“In the flesh, Dr. X!” Senku crosses his arms. “Look. There’s no point in a dumbass dream like world domination when there’s a very real, very unknown force on the moon trying to turn the whole world to stone with little gadgets like these.” He holds up the Medusa. “So you’re going to help us get there, got it?”

Xeno tilts his head, processing the information. Then looks at Tsukasa and Nikki standing on either side of him with their big burly arms and swords at their waists.

“My my,” he says. “You’re all grown up, aren’t you?”

Senku scoffs. “You in or not?”

Xeno grins. “Well with an offer like that, how can I say no? Yes…this will be an elegant project indeed.”

Senku rolls his eyes. “Weirdo.”

“Pot, kettle,” Gen whispers to Ukyo.

ACHIEVEMENT: Defeated the Americans!

Xeno joined the party!

TIME: 708:15:52:09

---------------

“He can’t be like, psychic, can he?”

“No way! Psychic powers don’t exist.”

“Are we sure? When I was younger I was pretty certain stonification beams didn’t exist.”

“Maybe he reads minds or can see the future or something.”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. If he could see the future, he’d have stopped the global petrification before it ever happened.”

“Well whatever it is, he hasn’t gotten us killed yet. That has to count for something, right?”

“Key word being yet…”

“Aw come on guys it’s not that bad. Yeah he’s weird, but he cares. Maybe eventually he’ll trust us enough to explain himself a little better.”

---------------

The rocket is built. 

They meet the ones responsible for the global petrification.

It’s over.

ACHIEVEMENT: “Defeat” Why-man!

TIME: 2533:21:29:17

---------------

Or is it?

TIME: 2533:21:29:32

---------------

The world isn’t saved yet, Senku thinks as he watches Chrome converse with the little Medusa in its glass pod. There’s still millions of people, billions of people, who need to be revived. There’s still important technology that needs to be rebuilt. There’s still Taiju and Yuzuriha’s wedding to be planned.

No, it’s not over yet. Maybe it never will be. 

But they’re here, and he’s happy with that. So there’s no use in counting anymore. Only looking to the next goal, the next step.

That’s life, after all.

TIME: ——:——:——:——

[tedwardremus]

Career Advice with James F. Potter

"Alright, Evans?"

"Hmm," Lily replied with a quill between her teeth, not looking up from the pamphlet she was reading.

James Potter leaned in above her, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. "What's got you so engrossed, Evans?"

Lily sighed, lifting her eyes from the pamphlet and taking the quill from her mouth. "Nothing, just trying to figure out what I want to do after Hogwarts."

"Ah, an age-old dilemma," James said with an air of mock authority, "But worry not, my dear Evans. James F. Potter is here to rescue you from the clutches of career confusion."

James cranked his head to read the title of the pamphlet Lily was holding, "The Hilgard Apothecary Apprentice Program for Medicinal Potineering," he let out an admiring whistle. "Got to be pretty swotty for that."

James plopped down on the couch beside Lily, holding a career pamphlet of his own. Lily assumed he must have just come from Professor McGonagall's office for his own career advice meeting. And, of course, wherever Potter went - so did his friends. Sirius Black fell gracefully onto the armchair across from them, swinging his legs across one of the arms of the chair as his dark hair fell into his eyes.

Remus Lupin, on the other hand, stayed standing. Lily thought he looked like he was having an inner fight about whether to sit down or crawl back into bed.

"Come on, Moony, grab some couch." Potter patted the empty seat impatiently next to him. “We have important matters of future employment to discuss.”

"Can we not?" Black groaned, "All anyone wants to talk about this past week is career advice. It is getting dreadfully boring."

"Everyone but Moony, I don't think I've heard him talk about his plans after Hogwarts once."

"Err.." Remus was looking at his shoes, avoiding eye contact with his friends, "There isn't much to talk about. I think I'll just go to the dorm, I am very tired."

"Come on Moony, you are top in Care of Magical Creatures as well as your strong Defense marks, plus you're a fucking prefect, and you tutor all those first years! There is plenty to talk about! You could walk into any job you want!"

"You know none of that matters." Remus gave James a pointed look. "And I don't want to talk about it."

"Listen, Remus," James was insistent and staring his friend down "I will do everything I can to ensure you get whatever job you want. You're a hard worker and one of the nicest blokes I've ever met. And if the worst-case scenario happens, I'll make sure you're OK. You know that right?"

"I just can't think about anything right now, I'm going to --"

"This is nonsense! Remus, your little problem shouldn't stop you from --"

"Lay off it, James" Sirius interjected. "Let Remus go nap before he passes out on his feet again." James waved his hand in the air as if to give Remus permission to retreat to his bed. With a tired "see you later" Remus wearily walked up the stairs to his dorm.

"Does he really think his illness will prevent him from getting a job? That's awful!" Lily couldn't help but voice her concern. Lily didn't know exactly what his illness was (though Severus has his theories, and she didn't appreciate his disgust at the idea he proposed) but she knew Remus and the idea that he felt his future was already decided against him upset her. Remus didn't deserve to feel judged like that.

"Don't worry Evans, he'll be fine," James assured Lily. "Remus can't help but be a bit self-loathing now and then but he's my friend and I'll make sure he's OK."

"Come on, Prongs, I meant it when I said this career talk was boring." Sirius tossed a pillow from his chair at James.

Ignoring his best friend, James leaned forward towards Lily, a spark of excitement in his hazel eyes. "So medicinal potions? That's quite the goal, Evans."

"Professor Slughorn suggested it. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a nurse, like my mum was during the war, but I had no clue about magical careers. Brewing potions for the hospital sounds interesting." Lily bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "The wizarding world is funny though. In the muggle world, you'd go on to more specialized schools or universities to qualify for a career. Here it's all about connections and apprenticeships. It's very overwhelming for those of us who grew up in the muggle world."

"If you really are intersted in becoming a potions master I could introduce you to my dad." James suggested, "He's a renowned potioneer. I'm sure he could help you get an internship."

"Oh no! That is not necessary! Please don't bother him!" The last thing Lily wanted was to owe a favor to James Potter.

"It won't be a problem at all though! He sold his company a few decades ago so he has lots of time on his hands but he still belongs to some potion societies and keeps up with the top potioneers in the field. He loves helping young people get started. He'd be thrilled to be asked!"

Sirius, who had been twirling his wand between his fingers, looked up at Lily. "Fleamont's a good guy, very principled. He won't help if he thinks you're not qualified. You should let James write you an introduction."

"I'll think about it... Speaking of qualifications," Lily wanted to change the subject as the thought of Potter asking his father to help her get an internship ignited an odd fluttering sense in her stomach and a small heat rise to her cheeks. It was all very confusing. "What about you, Black? Any career aspirations?"

Sirius merely shrugged "All I know is I'm not keen on the Ministry. Wouldn't take their gold for anything."

"Well, what do you like? What are your hobbies?" Lily always thought Black was a bit of a mystery. A certifiable genius, everyone knew that, and while Lily had seen him take pride in his top marks in every class her took, Lily also knew he had issues with authority and would rather spend his time outside than in a classroom. And while every breath he took exhibited his aristocratic upbringing and he walked around with an air of unshakable privilege, He was in Gryffindor while the rest of his family was in Slytherin and Lily knew he didn't talk to his brother or any of his cousins.

"Nothing out of the ordinary astronomy, crosswords... mapmaking." He shared a sly grin with James on that last word, like it was an inside joke.

"Mapmaking? Sounds like you want to be a pirate." Lily deadpanned while James chuckled from beside her.

"What about you, Potter?" Lily asked, "You just came from your career talk. What insight did McGongall give you?"

"Well, we talked Quidditch, but much to her disappointment, I'm not sure if I want to stick with it after school. Turing professional kind of ruins the fun of it, you know?"

Sirius leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. "McGonagall invited Prongs to submit articles for Transfiguration Today. Wants him to start building his CV, you know."

Lily looked impressed. "Really? That's quite an accomplishment, Potter."

James straightened up, running his hand through his messy hair. "You think so? I can send you a -" but James was cut off by the appearance of Peter Pettigrew who sat next to Potter with a great heavy sigh, a stack of his own career pamphlets in hand.

"Wormtail!" James greeted his friend, "How did your talk go? Going to make us all proud by joining the ranks of the Centaur Liaison Office?"

Pettigrew just sank lower into the couch and let the pamphlets drop to the ground. His talk with McGonagall evidently hadn't gone well.

"No worries, Pete," Sirus told Pettigrew, "If you fail out of Hogwarts you can always go on the Potter Financial Support Plan like Remus."

"Speaking of Moony," James said checking his watch "We should go check on him. He probably won't feel like going to dinner this evening. If he's awake we should grab him some food from the kitchen."

"You know he won't eat anything. He never does," Sirius said as lifted himself from the dark red chair anyway and stretched his arms above his head.

"I could eat! One of McGonagall's suggestions was a cook at the Leaky Cauldron and I haven't stopped thinking about meat pies since." Peter bounced up, abandoning his various pamphlets on the floor.

As the boys bounded up the stairs to check on Remus, Lily absentmindedly picked up the pamphlet Potter had been holding when he walked in. The words on the cover caught her eye: "Legal Aid for Disadvantaged Magical Beings."

A smile teased Lily's lips as she looked up at Potter's retreating back.

[smilingmxsk]

FIRST | ->

Margaret lay on her bed, wearing her usual outing clothes with an arm over her abdomen and her legs sprawled out over the sheets. She sat her mask on the nightstand and stared up at the ceiling.

This entire month had been horrific. She finds out she's being followed by a Fox, outright collapses in a feverish heap, finds out that there's ANOTHER entity involved who she doesn't even know if they're friendly or not… How did she end up getting in the middle of paranormal affairs? Margaret sighed and flopped the arm on her abdomen over her face. She was too damn tired for this shit. She knows that she ought to change before sleeping, but… today drained her. Three different jobs, two were hunting a person down, and another was standing in as a bodyguard. Effectively, she'd been all over the place and just wanted rest for now. At the very least, her boots were at the door, and she promised herself she'd be showering by morning.

She's not sure when exactly her eyes began to flutter shut, but the next thing Margaret knew, she was in a… space. A featureless, vast expanse of black. Had she… had she been here before? She couldn't recall, but it felt familiar. The Fixer peered around the space looking for something, anything that would stand out. She found nothing and decided to call out. An answer came soon after.

“There is no need to shout.” Came the sickeningly doting coo of the demon, and her crimson eyes sparked to life within the infinite dark. “I am always here, my dear.~”

“Th’ hell is this about?? I didn't call on you.” The Fixer crossed her arms, clearly displeased with having her blissful sleep disturbed.

“You're wondering the same thing, aren't you? What we do about the Fox frolicking about?”

“Well… yeah, actually.” Margaret’s arms loosen slightly. “I mean… we could use some help. A lot ov’ this has been… y'know. A lot. It don't seem like somethin’ I can take on alone.”

“Ill advised.” The demon cuts in. “The more bodies in our way, the more difficult the task. Have you heard of the human saying about the many cooks in the kitchen?”

“Yes I've heard about th’ fuckin’ cooks in th’ kitchen! What's dat gotta do wit’ any ov' dis I gotta go through??”

“Simply that they'll be in our way.” And grin that gleams so brightly in the darkness spread across her face.

“But we got Luna an’ th’ dogs! They're qualified fo’ dis shit!”

“Ah! The uncaring woman! Yes, she is very reliable.~”

“Th’ fuck's dat s'pposed t’ mean!?”

“It means that she couldn't care less for your troubles. She might seem like it, but it's only an inconvenience to her, and the dogs will only follow wherever she goes.~”

Margaret wanted to fire something back, a protest, rebuttal, something! But… as she tried to imagine anyone else being capable of taking Luna's place, anyone just as qualified… she came short. No one she knew, no one else willing to fight, would be able to fill that spot. Many of her relationships she kept at arms length, and the only one she'd gotten close to, she'd…

“Try not to dwell on it, sweet thing.~” Shade cooed. “After all, I have an idea.~”