#cw: references to major character death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberrystepmom · 11 months ago

Text

pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

word count: 6.8k

about: Gojo is many things but you get to know him best as Satoru through the eyes of the people who see him as something else entirely - nothing but a fellow human being.

contents: Told through three non-linear stories. CW: Reader is drinking alcohol in story 1, discussions of non major character death and marriage in story 2, discussions of trauma with Megumi and food mentions in story 3. Established relationship, reader is a sorcerer and teacher alongside Gojo, reader is referred to as girlfriend and my girl in story 1 and he is referred to as boyfriend. A bit of angst/discussion of losing someone you love in story 2 but otherwise it's mostly silce of life fluff.

notes: Happy early birthday to my Sagittarius superstar! ♡ This isn’t birthday themed but i’ve been working on this for a few weeks and am proud of how it turned out. If you read, thank you and I hope that you enjoy.

“I have this thing tonight and I want you to come.”

Generally when Satoru says something like this you roll your eyes, irritated about the last minute notice he’s infamous for, but his grin was so earnest you said yes without thinking too hard about it.

It’s easy to indulge him no matter how hard you try to deny your tendency to give in to his whims and it’s how you’ve ended up stepping into a bar in a neighborhood you have never been in with his arm slung over your shoulder, the moon hanging high in the sky while the stars twinkle above. The atmosphere is practically buzzing before he enters and it’s even louder when the patrons spot him, various cheers scattered around the room and arms raised in the air.

Clearly, they know him and he knows them.

“Hideki!” He points to a man who cheers. “Takahiro!” He points to another who nods. “I don’t remember your name,” he points to a third man who is already tipsy enough that he simply smiles and shrugs. Alcohol helps but you’re sure that Satoru’s smile and demeanor are half of the reason his worst behavior isn’t held against him by anyone in the small group that is clearly regulars to this bar.

Food sizzles behind the counter and you start to ease into the unfamiliar setting, sliding onto a chair and leaning back to watch the master at work, his natural charm infectious and soon it feels like the dimly lit room is practically thrumming with energy, voices chatting excitedly and other patrons typing texts inviting friends to come see the man, the myth, the legend in person.

GOJO SATORU - DARTS CHAMPION!

His name is written on a napkin and stuck in the wood paneling above the dart board with a dart. Seeing the bold characters when you spot them on the wall, you giggle. It’s so like him to do something like this for no other reason beyond what was likely boredom and inability to sleep one random night.

The patrons buzz amongst themselves about Gojo’s appearance, his sunglasses slung low on his nose while he flashes a grin at anyone who comes near him, and you watch from afar with a far more demure grin of your own. His name clearly carries weight even outside of the confines of the sorcerer community and you hide your smile by looking around the dimly lit bar, sizzling coming from behind the counter while the chefs flip yakitori by the skewer sticking through it. Your mouth waters and a beer is placed in front of you without even asking for it, your eyes darting across the bar only to be met with a wink tossed over his shoulder from your boyfriend.

One of the men he was speaking to sidles up to you and offers a polite bow of his head. Returning his gesture, you lift the beer glass to your mouth and take a sip, raising your eyebrows when he speaks.

“You must be the girl he always talks about.”

Raising your eyebrows, the warmth in your throat from the beer you’re sipping slowly spreads through your face out of slight embarrassment he talks about you at all when you’re out of earshot. You can’t control what he says when the two of you are apart and only whatever God reigns above knows what he has said but it couldn’t have been too terrible considering the man doesn’t look at you lecherously or with anything but curiosity. Smiling, you fan your face and tilt your head toward the grills to play off the heat of embarrassment as heat from cooking.

“I certainly hope so.”

You believe that you are the girl in question but your gut churns at the thought he may be mentioning someone else despite the two of you recently making it very clear you are serious about one another, closing off any lingering attachments elsewhere to focus on your relationship.

“Oh, I know so. He shows us pictures of you all the time.”

Sipping from your beer, you look away briefly, embarrassed about that as well. Gojo has many photos of you, not all of which are meant for other eyes, and you hope that he has enough decency to keep them to himself. Looking to change the subject, you remember the legendary title held by your boyfriend within these walls and shift in your seat to face the man next to you. He’s probably in his 40’s and looks a little worn around the edges but it could also simply be the hazy vibe of the entire bar making him seem that way. Nothing here seems clean, pristine, or perfect - unlike the way Gojo is elevated by his peers - and it amuses you how easily he has found his place amongst it all.

“So, how long has he been coming here to play darts?” Your question makes the man shake his head and shrug. “A few months, maybe. Came out of nowhere one night.”

He gratefully bows his head when a dish with a skewer is passed across the bar toward him by the chef and wordlessly, another is passed in your direction. You accept it with a bow of your own, appreciative of how kind everyone has been despite your status as an outsider. It’s easy to feel outcast when you consider how isolated the work of a sorcerer tends to be, something you’ve lamented to your boyfriend on more than one occasion, so being accepted open armed and without question is almost uncomfortable no matter how well you play it off by saying thank you for the meal and biting through a perfectly charred green onion and humming your approval.

“It’s the craziest thing any of us have ever seen. He hits the bullseye without even looking sometimes.”

Snorting as you chew, you keep it to yourself that he’s in all likelihood using his excellent perception to cheat knowing that the average person doesn’t care about Limitless or Six Eyes or anything remotely similar. They don’t know he has been exceptional since birth, they just know he has a mean wrist and hits his mark every single time. Honestly, you think that may be why he likes it here so much. He doesn’t have to be anything but some guy sipping on a cold soda.

“He has a knack for a lot of things,” you mutter to no one in particular, noticing that your companion has left his seat and walked toward where a crowd has gathered around the dartboard. The show must be about to begin and you settle into your seat, taking another bite and washing it down with a sip from your beer. More people weave past you and Satoru appears almost out of thin air, joking and laughing at the crowd.

“Who thinks I should show my girl over there why I’m the champion?”

The champion, The Strongest, it’s all the same to him as long as he’s the star of the show no matter where he is.

The crowd erupts and turns to glance at you, much to your mortification as you shrink slightly into your seat and another skewer is passed across the bar. You aren’t shy or apprehensive about receiving attention but it’s the insinuation that you are his girl that makes you feel a little uncertain. It’s a big responsibility to love a man with the world in his palm and there have been many times you’ve wondered if you are even up to the task. Will you be enough to keep him happy forever?

He doesn’t give you much time to chase a trail of darkness in your own mind, your attention grabbed when he shouts your name across the bar and flings a dart. It whizzes through the air and hits its designated bullseye with a definitive slam and the bar erupts into applause and hooting.

“That’s not even how you play darts.”

You’re talking to yourself again but simultaneously biting back a smile while Satoru spreads his arms wide and looks around as if to say, “yeah, I did that.” You want so badly to be annoyed by his pomp but his enthusiasm is nothing if not contagious and the crowd grows more rowdy with each second that passes.

“Now it’s her turn to throw one for you!”

As soon as the suggestion is tossed out, you lift the yakitori to your mouth and take a bite to avoid having to walk toward the opposite end of the bar to do just as you’re being asked. He’s a tough act to follow and although your ego isn’t even a speck compared to his, you aren’t sure you can handle the disappointed aww-ing that would come as a result of firing a shot that lands off of the board.

“Come on!”

“Do it for Gojo! Do it for Gojo!”

Just as you’re about to throw your hands up and shake your head, Satoru locks eyes with you and crooks his finger, beckoning you toward him with a smirk that you know you are far too weak for him to deny. Making a show of groaning and rolling your eyes, you trudge across the wooden floors and finally you stand next to him. He throws his arm over your shoulder with an easy chuckle and bends his knees to get low enough to whisper in your ear, voice a rasp.

“Yeah, do it for Gojo.”

He produces a dart between his fingers and you reach to grab it, plucking it between your own to get a feel for it while casting him a sidelong glance that clearly amuses him. You have done this just once or twice at an arcade with darts that do not have the sharpened metal point but this is real and everyone is watching you and you’re doing it for him - the man you love no matter where the two of you are.

You take a deep breath and he removes himself from hovering over your shoulder, giving you ample space to get comfortable. Spreading your feet apart, you make a few motions with your elbow to test the angle you need to throw at and you swear the bar falls completely silent the moment you gnaw your lower lip with your teeth and toss it, hoping some of Satoru’s natural good luck has rubbed off on you.

Instead, the dart clatters to the ground. For a millisecond, you want to follow suit and fall to the ground and hopefully disappear and never come back but without missing a beat, everyone cheers for you anyway. The eruption makes the building feel like it’s shaking, stomping feet and clapping hands coming from every direction while Satoru bundles you in his arms and pulls you against him. Dipping his chin, he presses a kiss against your temple and you sigh, leaning into it.

“Looks like the champion is still undefeated!” He shouts and you elbow him playfully in the ribs. This only draws a wicked little snicker from your boyfriend and he bends down to whisper in your ear again, one hand wrapped around your waist. “Better luck next time, baby.”

The crowd continues to cheer and several patrons take their turn approaching and clapping Gojo on the back. It’s surprising despite knowing his Infinity is off because you’re in his arms but you know it means that he’s comfortable. He trusts everyone here and their intentions, at least for now and that’s good enough for you.

You tap his arm once and he lets you go, his eyes following your every movement as you bend to pick up your dart from the ground and hold it in your palm. Smirking, you turn toward him with a twinkle in your eye that he recognizes all too well and the patrons hold their breath wondering what will happen next.

“I think the champion is counting his chickens before they hatch.”

An ooh spreads across the bar and you grin to match Satoru’s toothy one, holding your arms open to offer yourself as a contender. His glasses slide down his nose a little and he pushes them back up, covering his eyes enough that you won’t be able to tell if his abilities are on or off.

“Finally, a worthy opponent!”

His words send the patrons into another frenzy and you laugh although the only person who can hear it is the man standing closest to you, the one who wants to make you laugh the most. You join his side and he wraps one of his arms around your shoulders again while plucking a dart from his pants pocket and moving to toss it again.

“Good luck,” he mutters while looking down at you with a smirk and he lands yet another shot perfectly without even looking.

It’s always evident when either you or Satoru have a rough day. Your shoulders slump and smiles become half hearted, hiding the frustration simmering inside of you. His need to cling to you becomes more intense than ever, you are the desperate reminder he needs that he’s human after maiming curses, and that’s how you’ve ended up walking hand in hand back to his apartment.

The two of you were lucky enough to make it off campus before sunset and you can count today as one of the handful of times that you’ve been reprimanded by Principal Yaga thanks to a mission that leveled the bottom floor of a local preschool. Thankfully no one was injured but you were reckless and deserved the reminder of the innocent that needed protecting. That’s why you do what you do.

Gojo, well…he is rarely not in trouble but today hurts worse because he got you in trouble, too. The two of you are rarely paired up for missions after the Great Restaurant Destruction of 2012 where he leveled a small family restaurant in Yokohama in an ill guided attempt to impress you but now that three years since then have passed, Yaga insists it’s to keep at least one instructor on campus at all times.

No matter what occurred today, both of you seem a little zapped. His steps are heavier and slower and you’ve been quiet the entire walk to his apartment from the train station. It has been awhile since the two of you have spent any time over here, too busy with work and crashing at your place that is closer to campus than his if you have a night together, but it’s nice to get a change of scenery. His neighborhood is far nicer than your very normal one and you enjoy taking in the sights of how he lives when he’s not with you.

Down the sidewalk, an elderly woman catches your eye and you see her struggling with a few bags. Nudging Satoru’s ribs, he looks down at you and then down the sidewalk and immediately shouts, holding his arms in the air.

“Baba!”

Before you can reprimand Satoru for being impolite and skipping all sense of formality, especially toward an elder, the woman turns her head with a smile and offers a small wave in his direction. She’s slightly hunched in the shoulders likely due to age and her hair is a beautiful pale gray, the fading sunlight catching the hollows of her cheekbones. Your breath catches in your throat as you’re reminded that there’s nothing more beautiful than to grow old, something you pray often that yourself and Satoru are able to do together. Especially after a day like today.

“That’s Mrs. Ikedo, remember?”

You nod at his words, vaguely remembering a conversation the two of you had about Satoru helping her move some things from her home into storage a few months ago. Mrs. Ikedo steps slowly in the direction of the two of you and he takes a few long legged steps toward her and offers his arm to help. She swats it away playfully and you smile watching the interaction, almost identical to how the two of you behave often. How does he so easily find stubborn women to surround himself with?

“Where have you been, young man?”

Witnessing the two of them interact, you wonder how much she knows about the life Satoru leads. Does she know about his abilities? The danger he willingly puts himself in to keep people safe? He doesn’t see it as dangerous, of course, his incredible belief in himself outweighs all other possibilities but there is always a chance he’ll never come home regardless. A breeze blows by as the ominous thought of him never coming back bleeds into your mind and you shiver slightly, pulling your jacket closer to your body.

“You know me, I’m a wanted and busy man.”

She laughs and you smile despite only being on the fringes of the conversation. The sun dips lower in the sky, dusk coloring the world in warm amber, and you’re almost too lost in your thoughts when he joins your side once more and pulls you close to him. He doesn’t caress all of your sadness away but the way his thumb massages your side even through your jacket helps you feel more grounded.

“Baba invited us in for a cup of tea. You up for it?”

It would be impolite to say anything but yes so you nod, letting him lead the way to the home you know belongs to her because it’s four buildings down from his. The longer you’ve been standing here, the more you recall about her because he has mentioned her more than once.

“Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Ikedo.” You smile warmly in her direction and she walks slowly beside the two of you, her grocery bags now slung over Satoru’s free arm despite him jokingly picking up the lightest one and then asking her to handle the rest.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, this one sure isn’t.”

She jerks her head in the direction of Satoru who chuckles and waves his arm, the reusable bags hanging from them rustling against his shirt. Your formality is almost always a balm to his brash nature so you too easily fall into the role. Gratefulness warms you against the cool evening air and you lean further into your boyfriend’s side.

“Remember who is carrying your bags,” she pats his forearm and you follow her inside of her home, taking your shoes off at the door and looking around. It resembles the home of every other elderly person you’ve ever been into - covered in various collectibles and photos. Smiling faces and one you can easily recognize as her a long time ago, hair cropped to her chin in a tidy bob.

“Satoru looked at that one and asked me what century I was born in.”

It would be best to reprimand him for rudeness once again but instead, you giggle and rub your palms together to warm them. Winter has arrived and while there isn’t yet snow on the ground, the air feels chilly even indoors and you will welcome a cup of tea between your hands as soon as you are able. Mrs. Ikedo leads you through her home and into the kitchen where Gojo places her shopping bags on the counter, sighing.

“I just remembered I have something for you from Gifu,” he says with a sigh and a stretch, pretending the bags were any kind of a hassle for him. “Is it okay if she stays here while I run home to grab it?”

The woman nods and you fight the urge to be annoyed that he’s leaving you in a stranger’s home no matter how kind she may be. This day keeps going on and on and you are fighting off a pout and an attitude when a warm mug is offered to you with a smile, the lovely scent of green tea filling your nostrils and calming you down.

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

You laugh, head bobbing in agreement. That is certainly one word to describe him and many have said the same thing to you in the past. He is something, the word takes a life of its own and has a different meaning to everyone who says it. To you, he’s your “sometimes not but currently yes” boyfriend, a man who has known you since you were fifteen years old and still had baby fat making your cheeks chubby, your best friend most of the time but you understand why others struggle to see him that way.

“He knows it, too. Most people say that’s the worst thing about him - he knows who he is and brings him everywhere he goes.”

The woman laughs and ushers you in the direction of the sitting area of her home, inviting you to sit down at a kotatsu that she flicks the switch on to heat up. You will be the last person to ever turn down the opportunity to warm up and you kneel on the ground, holding your mug against your legs that are tucked beneath you.

“I was surprised when he told me he’s a teacher.” You nod again, understanding that this surprises many people that the mouthiest man in the room has apparently been entrusted to create future well adjusted adults. “I figured he would be a model or something judging by the size of him. What do you feed him?”

“It always surprises people when he tells them that he teaches but he really has a way with the kids.” You respond with a giggle, sipping your tea as you finish speaking and letting the warmth seep through you. The strain of your shoulders starts to relax and you lean back, comfortable. “He keeps things fun for them so they don’t realize they’re learning most of the time.”

She hums and nods.

“He brought that Hakari over here last year because he told me the boy needed to learn a little hard work.”

That’s an amusing sentiment from someone who doesn’t work very hard himself, you think, but you remember the issues he had with Hakari last year and how only a few of them resolved themselves going into his second year and now he’s your problem - attitude and all. Despite his hands off approach to work, he is a good kid deep down and you know the support of the man the sorcerer community basically views as a god probably helped bolster his confidence. That’s what makes Satoru so good at what he does - the weight that his praise carries. All people dream of being told they’re doing a good job by the star in their field.

“He was right about that. Hakari is my student now and it must have helped him a little bit, he shows up to class three days a week now instead of one.”

She grins at you and sips from her tea, settling beneath the warmth of the kotatsu with a contented sigh.

“You’re a teacher too, I recall Satoru telling me. You seem more suited to the role than he does.” She nods and sips again, placing the cup in front of her when she’s finished. “A lot more nurturing.”

It always embarrasses you a little bit to know that Gojo talks about you when the two of you are apart. That’s not to say that you don’t talk about him because you do. In fact, you gush. Your sisters and friends get tired of hearing about it during the good times and put you on temporary bans against talking about him at all. It feels more vulnerable when it’s him doing the talking, though.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m glad I get to work with him, he’s definitely one of the best parts of the job even on bad days like today.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for a moment and you know she’s appraising you but you aren’t sure on what criteria. Are you slouching? You’re certain that the mascara you put on this morning is likely flaking beneath your eyes by this point and you look a mess but you doubt she’d care too much about that kind of thing.

“Would you take some advice from a nosy old lady?”

She sure is funny. You find yourself laughing at her again, nodding gratefully. You are warm and relaxed and you can see why he has made friends with this woman.

“Of course. All of the best wisdom comes from nosy old ladies.”

Sighing, she leans forward and makes a face while moving her legs.

“This cold…terrible for my joints,” she laments while settling back in. You sip your tea and watch patiently, scooting closer to the warmth of the kotatsu yourself.

“He loves you.” You choke on the mouthful of tea you were swallowing and she chuckles while you wipe the corners of your mouth and cough. “The person you want to spend the night with after a bad day is the person you love. Don’t push him away or punish him for not understanding everything yet, he has a lot to learn too.”

You’re shocked by the wisdom and you blink at her dumbly. Words aren’t coming to you easily and she can tell, smiling kindly and watching you grip your mug for dear life.

“Give him time. He’ll grow to be the man you’re married to for 70 years.” She nods toward the wall behind you and turning your head, you gasp to see a portrait of Mrs. Ikedo and who you are assuming is the now gone Mr. Ikedo by her side, matching grins in wedding kimonos. It’s overwhelming to be compared to a couple that clearly had so much love in it and you blink tightly, willing yourself not to cry and embarrass your boyfriend in front of his friend.

“Take it from me, the ones who need a little patience are the ones you have the most fun with.”

Sniffling, you nod and sip from your tea again. You hope that she won’t hold it against you that you’re struggling to find the words of appreciation for her sentiment. Blessedly, you hear her front door open and Satoru hums while taking his shoes off and entering her home, whining when he sees the two of you are comfortable without him.

“Sorry for interrupting,” he mutters sarcastically while joining your side, kneeling and sliding a decorative box across the floor in the direction of his friend. You lean your head on his bicep and he smiles, glad to be touching you in any capacity. You are his comfort and his Infinity always off when you’re near, something that the woman across from you likely has no idea about.

There is a wall between him and the world and you are what reminds him of what exists between the two places. You make him more..human.

“If you brought me another set of tea cups I’m going to throw them at you,” she mutters while opening the box but a delighted grin quickly replaces her teasing frown when she sees a ceramic frog inside the box. Lifting it out, she shows it off and you smile.

“Another for the collection. You know me too well.”

Satoru shrugs and you see it rather than feel it, making a note to ask him a few more questions about just how close he and the widow are when the two of you get home.

At 8 am on a Saturday, a knock rings through the Fushiguro children’s apartment and Megumi rises from where he sits on the floor reading with a groan, his sister scrambling to get up behind him to see who could possibly be visiting them this early. He would assume it’s Gojo but usually he just invites himself in so it has to be…

You.

Megumi opens the door wide enough you can see his eyes and you wiggle your fingers in a wave. The morning sun shines behind you and his sister appears behind him and says your name excitedly. Suddenly he feels annoyed and shy and a million other things he can’t explain because he’s twelve and the world is nothing short of frustrating at that age anyway.

He almost got into a fight at school this week and that’s why you’re here. Satoru is off in Iwate on a mission and as his guardian, he received the phone call while “decimating a den of second grade curses” (his words) and debated even telling you about it. His concern for Megumi outweighs all else though and he asked you last night to check up on them today, just to see how he seems. Tsumiki is always the angel of the household and right now she’s pushing past her brother to let you in even though he’s reluctant. He knows you must know, that big mouthed overgrown idiot-

“Good morning, I’m here to make you breakfast!”

Megumi’s mean thoughts cut themselves off when you offer to cook and he moves enough that the door can open, letting you slip through a narrow crack with a smile. He knows you’re a capable cook and he’d be silly to shoo you off when you’re offering so kindly.

“What’s for breakfast?” He asks as you toe your shoes off and enter the apartment, taking a deep breath along the way. It’s clean as always, the futons are folded, it’s small but cozy and you smile seeing pictures of Satoru and the two of them hanging on the walls. Megumi can pretend he doesn’t like to be around him but there are many signs that point to otherwise, a little smile evident on his face in each framed image.

“I was going to ask you the same thing! What do you want?”

Breezing through the living room, both of them follow after you.

“We usually have rice with a fried egg on top,” Tsumiki chimes in while she trounces to your side. She’s almost taller than you are and it amazes you how time flies. It wasn’t all that long ago you were braiding her hair and polishing her fingernails for her, her brother shyly requesting you paint his thumbnails alongside hers.

“I’m not asking what you usually have, silly, I’m asking what you want to have.”

You raise yourself up on the balls of your feet slightly to reach high enough to affectionately rub the top of her head and it makes her giggle, the two of you finally making it through the kitchen where her brother is already waiting.

“Depending on what you have in the cupboards, I can make just about anything,” you offer with a hum at the end, wondering who will offer up a suggestion first. You know the two of them are shy about their needs and often pretend they don’t have any lest they concern their guardian or anyone else he has around to help out with the situation but you try to encourage them to speak up when they can. They’re both good kids; wonderful, even, if you consider the situation they’re in.

“How about something fancy? Oh, I can make some French toast.”

Despite himself, the surly almost teenager smiles and shrugs. His sister practically dances out of the kitchen, walking back toward the small living room space of their accommodations, her unabashed sweetness the perfect foil to her brother whose mouth remains in a flat line while his green eyes scan over you, hunting for ill intent he will never find.

“Why are you here?”

You look up from combing through cabinets to find even the most basic ingredients and make a note to give Satoru a piece of your mind for keeping the kitchen mostly stocked with convenience food rather than what they need to make meals, meeting Megumi’s uncertain glance. He rests against the counter and for a moment you realize that he is no longer the unruly haired child the two of you used to take for the occasional picnic and day at the museum with Tsumiki. He’s growing up and you feel guilty for making things confusing for him thanks to your admittedly confusing dynamic with the man who more or less cares for him, his de facto big brother.

Megumi and Tsumiki both have experienced a lot in their young lives and all of the attempts everyone in Satoru’s life have made to help them have a normal childhood cannot fix the pain of loss and the anxiety of not knowing what comes next. Neither of them are apt to open up about all of it, satisfied long ago with the thought that their parents ran off together and never returned, and part of you hopes they never find out the truth. There is safety in ignorance and what have these last four years been besides an attempt to keep them as safe as two children can be?

Stepping away from the cupboard, you turn to face him and lean your own hip against the countertop, attempting to meet him on his level.

“I’m here because the two of you got good grades and I wanted to celebrate with you. Is that okay?” His skepticism practically wafts off of him and you snort. “We got good grades three months ago.”

You sigh, knowing you’ve been caught in an admittedly bad lie but you don’t bother to elaborate the real reason knowing he’s well aware. Changing the subject is probably the worst way to handle it but hey, you aren’t here to discipline him so you assume the role you’re better at and that’s comfort.

“Can’t I just do something nice for you two? You don’t have to earn everything.”

A shadow falls over his face and you notice it, leaning forward on your elbows slightly to look at him. He is a boy with big emotions even if he hides them to appear stoic on the surface, something you have worried for years that Satoru is not equipped enough to handle given he rarely blinks at his own distress before compartmentalizing it. There’s more than meets the eye for the enigmatic man who ties all of your lives together but children aren’t always the most capable of picking up on that, seeing him as an overly happy nuisance rather than someone who covers up anguish with smiles.

“People have been doing things for me my whole life even if I’m not acting my best.”

Tilting your head, you wordlessly ask him to elaborate if he would like to and he sighs. The way his shoulders slump gives away anything he’s trying to hide and the nurturing part of you fights the urge to make him spill knowing it would surely backfire. You’re aware he has mixed emotions about his relationship with Gojo thanks to the few times you’ve been able to get him to open up enough to talk about how he feels indebted to the man for saving his sister more so than saving him but that’s a big load to carry for a twelve year old. To keep things as light as you can, you take a card from Gojo’s book and play it off as nothing, propping your chin up with your fist and keeping your elbows on the counter.

“So? It’s not like they’re asking you to pay them back. We all have times where we are not our best.”

The unspoken part of your statement is that Megumi knows he will eventually have to become a sorcerer someday but given his abilities, it was inevitable no matter whose care he came into. Perhaps this is some form of payment for the guardianship he has been given over the years but you don’t believe that Gojo sees it that way on more than a surface level, a debt paid with flesh is hardly one that the cornerstone of sorcerer society would care to collect on from a child.

“Listen,” you use the weighted silence in the kitchen to your advantage and keep your tone low and even while speaking. You’re sure that if Tsumiki were listening that she would hear you anyway but you don’t think too hard about it. “All anyone wants is for you and your sister to be safe and happy. We stop in because we care about you and want you to know that you always have people on your side.”

Watching him carefully, you hope that your words bring him some comfort and you swear that a trace of a blush comes across his cheeks. The tips of his ears are red which always gives him away and you reach to pinch his cheek, to which he responds by slapping at your hand and groaning, scrunching his nose.

“We love our little Megumi, what can we say?”

He rolls his eyes but something about him feels definitively lighter so you feel as though your job is done. You open your mouth to speak again but you’re stopped when you hear the front door open, Megumi looking over his shoulder to see who could possibly be here.

“Pancakes!”

The shout comes from the front door and you recognize the voice immediately. A smile comes across your lips and Tsumiki stands up in the living room and rushes to the door to greet Satoru who just arrived at the apartment with still hot breakfast in takeout bags dangling from his arms.

Megumi rolls his eyes but his usual frown is replaced by the hint of a smile. He leans against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest and watches his sister greet Gojo gleefully, already thanking him profusely while he heads toward the kitchen to see you standing there. He raises his eyebrows, feigning surprise, and you roll your eyes as he holds up his arms and shows off the bags.

“Celebrating the two little geniuses in apartment 9-A!”

You nod and he sticks his tongue out at you while he passes, shimmying past Megumi to place the bags on the counter next to you. Wordlessly, you try to indicate that the smart boy has already picked up on the lie and to not proceed with it by widening your eyes and shaking your head but he misses the cue.

“I had the same idea.”

Megumi scoffs and lifts himself away from where he leans, stepping quietly toward the enticing smell of a fancy breakfast looking between the two of you while gathering plates from the cupboard to his right.

“Yeah that’s because you guys are exactly alike.”

Tsumiki opens her mouth to reprimand him for being rude but you shake your head, smiling as you lean over toward her brother.

“Yeah but which one of us do you like better?”

This finally draws a chuckle from the usually sullen boy and you nudge him playfully, a shy smile on his face that he dips his chin to try and hide. The curve of his cheek gives him away and you decide to leave him be for now until he leans in and fake whispers, plates between his palms.

“You but don’t tell him.”

“I heard that!”

Feigning offense, Satoru scoffs and holds his hand to his t-shirt clad chest. You smile up at him and he winks down at you, the two of you aware that the Fushiguro siblings are watching your every move. Megumi pushes past you to begin unpacking the bags after handing the plates to Tsumiki who giggles and leaves the three of you alone.

“So I’m not in trouble?” Gojo sighs and claps Megumi on the back, shaking his head. “No but if you start a fight you better win it or else you will be.”

You gasp and smack his bicep with the back of your hand, frowning while Megumi genuinely laughs and starts opening containers that smell so good it makes all of your mouths water. The discussion isn’t over but it’s paused for now and that’s something all of you can accept.

“What? I’m just saying,” Satoru argues while picking up a container and heading toward the set table. “Haven’t I always taught you to finish fights that you start?”

Megumi nods, following after the man with another container. Their relationship is unconventional but he can’t deny that he has learned not just that but much more from him. Each of you sit and you notice Megumi perk up a bit, Satoru using his chopsticks to put pancakes on each of the plates.

“To winning fights!”

“Hey, I thought it was to good grades! And he didn’t even fight!” Tsumiki interjects and you laugh, hugging her shoulders. Her brother scoffs at the white haired man next to him while he pours criminal amounts of syrup over his plate and for a moment, you think that maybe this arrangement is more comfortable for them than it seems.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #satoken

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sundayworshipper · 5 months ago

Text

*~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.

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #sunday honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #sunday fanfic #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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steviewashere · 7 months ago

Text

Love, Rest Your Head

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Canon Typical Injuries Tags: Pre-Season 4, Aftermath of Starcourt Mall, Aftermath of Torture, Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Major Character Injury, Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Mentions of Vomiting, Self Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Mentions of Major Character Death (In Reference to Hopper), Foreshadowing, Ambiguous Ending

💕—————💕 The news was pure devastation. Overhead shots of the Starcourt Mall burning. Flames engulfing the building on all sides, swallowing it up until it sat a collapsed, ashen mess. There was no structure. No semblance to any kind of store that was inside. Just dust. Blackened walls. Melted floor tiles.

Eddie sat on the edge of the couch cushion, left hand tucked harshly under his thigh, chomping down on his right hand’s fingernails. There was a metallic tang on his tongue, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not even when the raw, exposed parts of his skin bared themself as a tender ache in his mouth’s warmth. Nothing could stop him. In between bites, there were moments where he was holding his breath. Gasping for it when push eventually came to shove. At least it was air he was choking on, not bile.

His uncle was stoic in his recliner in the corner. Until, with the quietest and gruffest voice Eddie’s ever heard, Wayne said, “Your boy. He’s in the parking lot. Has to be.”

“What if he isn’t?” Eddie barely mustered. “What if—What if he’s not there in the parking lot with all those ambulances? What if Steve’s stuck in the debris and he can’t get out and nobody can hear him and then he doesn’t come home and I never—“ He was back to choking on his breath. Sipping at the smallest pockets of air he could manage.

Wayne didn’t answer. The promises that could be made in this moment, every single one of them could be a fallacy.

Then, the news reporter read out those who suffered in the fire. That crisped with the building. Ones that couldn’t be recovered. Ones that were found, yet only identifiable by the licenses in their pockets.

Jenna Kinling Parker Smith Tony Roberts Billy Hargrove…

Eddie bit his fingers harder at that last name. Maybe they didn’t run in the same circles or maybe they weren’t friends. But Billy was still a young dude. He had a life ahead of him. They had classes together. What if…What if…What if, rings loudly in Eddie’s head.

Except, Steve isn’t listed. Neither is his new friend, Robin. They aren’t…They weren’t found in the rubble. They weren’t believed to be in it either. And, as if on cue, the trailer’s phone begins to ring. Eddie is up and out of his seat before he has a chance to miss a single ring.

“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” he answers hastily.

On the other end is the wet, nasally, raspy breathing of another person. The deeper the breaths, the more he can make out it’s somebody masculine. Their intakes are interrupted by small sniffles. Short bursting whimpers that come from sure pain, not pleasure.

“Hello?” Eddie speaks quietly.

The person gasps. Sobbing around the words, “Eddie…Eddie, I need help.” Steve.

“I’ll help, sweetheart,” he promises immediately. “What do you need? I—Uncle Wayne is here, too. We can help. We can—“

“‘M at the mall. And it’s all charred and…and gone. And I think I—I left your birthday present in Scoops and I’m sorry that I—My head hurts, Eds. It hurts and I’m bleeding and the paramed—they think…Billy’s dead and I watched him die and it scared me and—I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all but he looked sad and he looked…He’s dead, Eddie. I watched somebody die, Eddie,” Steve rambles. His words are heavily slurred. Barely breaking by his breath. Almost swirled by puke.

Before Eddie has the chance to interrupt, Steve is continuing. “I protected Robin from getting hurt,” he says seriously, gravely. But his next words are tiny, as if Eddie was listening to a child, not his eighteen year old boyfriend. “You’re going to be mad at me.”

“Why?” He asks. Shakes his head though, and asks instead, “Where should I pick you up? Does Robin have a ride home?”

“I got beat up again,” Steve barrels on. “’T’s really bad, Eds. Everything is ringing. Makin’ me nauseous.” His breaths grow heavier as if he’s ready to retch on his sneakers.

Eddie prepares himself to hear it all, because he knows it’ll happen. Knows it like the back of his hand, unfortunately. From how many other times Steve’s been concussed. Yet, he doesn’t care, saying, “I’ll take care of you here at home, but I need you to tell me where I need to pick you up. Does Robin need a ride?”

Steve mumbles, “She already left. Hugged her and everythin’. Rob—Robin’s safe. I protected her from getting hurt. They were going to hurt her, Eds. It would’ve been my fault for getting her involved.”

The words crawl under Eddie’s skin like spiders. He wants to scratch at himself, get them out of his head. Get away from how small each word is that comes from Steve’s mouth. He wants to find out who ‘They’ are and kill them. Wants to rip this world apart for making Steve sound so…horrified. But he just calmly asks, “Where are you, Steve? Where at the mall are you?”

“Front,” Steve mutters, “at the payphone. The one with all the gum on the back. It’s gross, Eds. I feel gross. Smell like—I’m sorry.”

Eddie just swallows harshly. Doesn’t know why Steve’s apologizing. But he’s scared shitless, that’s for sure. He grabs for his car keys on the dining table. “I’m going to hang up, Stevie. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

The last thing he hears is Steve coughing and retching up his lungs. Spiders work their way into his veins.

——— Sure enough, Steve’s by the payphone. Sitting with his knees up to his chest. Leaning against the thin pole of the phone. Inches away from whatever lunch he had last. Doesn’t look like much. Eddie just thought Steve was busy with work and relaxing at home. Though…Eddie’s starting to piece together that maybe Steve never left work. Like he’s been here way too long.

Steve shivers where he grasps to himself and Eddie approaches with great caution.

He crouches down to Steve’s level, keeps his hands to himself, and speaks softly. “Steve, it’s Eddie. I brought you a jacket. And some water. I’ve got crackers. You ready to go home?”

With his one good eye, Steve looks to him. Blood caked around his nose and mouth and chin. Eyebrow split, though covered with a butterfly bandage. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep, concerning purple. A part of Eddie almost wants to ask who left Steve here like this. To sit by himself and hold to his elbows. But, a stronger part of him cares too much about making sure Steve gets home.

Slowly, Steve reaches out his right hand and grasps at Eddie’s left wrist. Thumb harsh over his pulse point. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Without any fanfare or warning, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Streaming down his face in sluggish lines. “I was stupid and got in trouble again and now I’m all…I’m all broken and ugly and I smell really bad and you’re gonna have to stay awake with me because I’m not allowed to sleep and I—“

“Baby,” Eddie whispers lowly, “Steve, I’m just glad that you’re alive. I’d rather look after you all beaten up and bloody than…Well, y’know.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Steve meekly asks.

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

With great force, Steve shakes his head. Hissing and hiccuping at the pain that surges through him. “It hurts so bad,” he whimpers. “I just—They were going to hurt Robin and—and the kids. I couldn’t let them do that and now I—“

Eddie gently shushes him. “You don’t need to explain yourself right now, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

“What if I never talk about it?”

He shrugs. Wraps his free hand over Steve’s where it still grips him. “Then you don’t talk about it,” he whispers. “Let me take you home, though? Give you the food and water I brought. Warm you up and change your clothes. Can clean your face,” Eddie lists. He cups the injured side of Steve’s face with a tentative hand, barely touching his swollen skin. “Clean this all up and brush your hair. Let you sleep.”

“I can’t sleep for long,” Steve reminds him.

“Wake you up every few hours, that’s fine. I don’t have school tomorrow, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“‘M’kay,” Steve agrees quietly. He’s drooping in Eddie’s hold. Exhaustion quickly swamping him. “Sorry if I throw up in the car.”

Eddie gently hefts them up off the ground, leads them towards the van, and gets Steve situated in his passenger seat. He murmurs, as he buckles Steve in, “I can clean up. But I’ll leave the window rolled down. I’ll drive slow. Do you want the jacket?”

Steve shakes his head softly. His eyes are closed and the rest of him is very still to his seat. As if moving anything physically pains him. It probably does, based on what Eddie’s able to see. “I don’t want to be reminded of the heat,” he state quietly.

“Okay,” Eddie whispers. He leans up into Steve’s space, presses a short kiss to his temple, and cranks the passenger window down. “Just lean towards the window a little. Rest. I’ve got you, baby.”

The car ride is incredibly slow, it makes Eddie antsy. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve tensing at every gradual rumble and deep pothole. It makes Eddie want to just get out and push the van. He slides a hand off of the steering wheel and goes to grab Steve’s left wrist, but he jolts away. Head colliding solidly with the window frame.

“Don’t,” Steve bites. “Don’t touch me there,” he whispers.

Eddie swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “Okay, Steve,” he murmurs right back. “Do you…you need me to pull off for a second? Give you a break from the bumpy road?” Steve gives a slow and tentative nod.

He pulls to the shoulder, parks in silence, and just sits in the driver’s seat. Face forward, eyeing beyond the windshield. He’d turn on the radio, try to fill the gap between their bodies, but knows that the noise would be too much. Instead, he listens in on Steve’s audible deep breaths. Like he’s trying to ground himself to the carseat or maybe veer away from puking out the window. Eddie wants to touch and soothe, like he normally would during Steve’s concussions. But…he can’t. There are tears percolating in the corners of his eyes.

“You need water?” Eddie quietly asks.

“Please,” Steve mutters lowly. His voice is crackling and snotty wet.

Eddie moves slowly between the front seats, grabs an unopened bottle of water, and uncaps it. He leans across the center console to find a straw in the glove box. Plops it in the bottle and offers it up for Steve to take. “Slow sips,” Eddie states, “don’t need to make yourself sicker.” Steve angles his body away from the window, leans forward slightly, and takes the straw between his lips. Each swallow of water looks like he’s trying to consume rocks. His tongue working slowly, hesitantly against the straw. Testing it. “You’re doing a good job,” Eddie can only praise.

When Steve pops off the straw, it’s with a gasping breath. Catching and falling and catching again. He lolls his head on the seat, looking over to Eddie. Chest moving up and down with shallow, croaking shakes of air. “We can go,” he rasps, “I wanna sleep.”

The water bottle goes to the cup holders. And Eddie does what he’s told. Crawling slowly back home. Taking small pauses to check in with Steve, help him drink water, nibble on some crackers, rub his back when he hurls out the car window.

But when they make it back home, they move in complete and utter silence. Through the front door and to the couch. Wayne ogles the two of them, fear present in his eyes. His mouth hangs open, suckled dry of all words he could ever think to say. Eddie makes him grab a bowl of warm water and a rag.

And they just exist in silence.

In fear, Eddie now realizes, of whatever happened to Steve.

Because they’re not stupid. This wasn’t a fire. There was something else. Something more…disastrous. Dastardly. But Eddie places the bowl on the coffee table, sits on Steve’s right on the cushions, and turns them towards each other.

“Alright, I’ve gotta clean the blood off of your face, Stevie,” he encroaches their silence. “I’m going to be really careful. I’ll go slow. But I need you to tell me when you need a break, okay?” Steve blinks groggily at him. His eyes are dilated beyond belief. Eddie’s nauseous just looking at them. These aren’t the eyes he fell in love with.

These eyes are like terror in existential form.

Steve nods, though. He places a shaking hand on Eddie’s left knee. Doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t pet the fabric under his hand, just rests it there. As if he’s searching for an anchor.

Eddie wets the wash rag with the warm water. Raises it to Steve’s chin. “If this hurts, you need to tell me. Here we go.” The rag stains pink and crimson as soon as it touches Steve’s skin. He hates how hard he has to press just to work the blood off, but it’s dried to him. It’s coming off in flakes, Eddie sees the particles fall to Steve’s dirtied uniform. As he works the rag over Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice how stained and red the uniform is, too.

It used to be something Eddie could tease Steve about. Be flirtatious and saucy about it. Talk about stupid things with. Make dumb fantasies and see if Steve will play into them. But looking at it now only makes Eddie’s chest hurt. Makes his stomach turn uneasily. Shrivels something inside of him that will never live again. But he’ll get Steve into his clothes. Get him comfortable. Maybe he’ll burn the uniform when Steve isn’t looking. Rid of it like a demon needing to be expelled.

The last bit of the blood finally comes away, flaking from Steve’s nostrils to the washcloth. Eddie places it back in the pink tinted water. And then he looks back. At Steve’s child like eyes. And his split lip. The plum like bruise around his left eye.

Eddie’s never had homicidal thoughts, but today might just be the eye opener for him.

But he continues to be gentle. Offering, “Let’s get you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your hair in the bathroom sink. Then, you can rest.” Steve just nods, allows Eddie to pull him along to the bedroom, and change him out of his clothes. Ignores the slight bruising on his ribs, where he most likely struggled or fell. Tries to not think about the red, twisting lines across Steve’s chest, arms, and wrists from where he’d been tied. Just covers Steve back up in reds and blacks and soft things. And, while Steve is looking away, throws the Scoops uniform away in a nearby waste basket.

Washing his hair is no struggle. Steve goes listless and quiet when Eddie scrubs at his scalp, carefully detangles knots that were glued together by sticky blood. He barely blinks as he watches Eddie move and go through his hair washing routine. Doesn’t protest any of what Eddie chooses to do—even when he puts too much conditioner in the ends of his hair or doesn’t do two wash throughs with the shampoo, even if he uses a hair dryer instead of a towel. Allows him, which Eddie finds a little odd. He has an inkling, though, that it may just be the gentle touch that Steve doesn’t want to mitigate.

When they’re back in bed, Eddie lays flat on the mattress. Putting space between their two bodies. His alarm is set for three hours from now, where he’ll wake Steve up and make sure his concussion symptoms either are stagnant or lessening. But for now, he just stays put. Eyes up at his ceiling, stomach turning and knotting at whatever happened today.

Whatever happened almost doesn’t matter, knowing Steve made it out alive.

But there’s a haunting to him that Eddie can’t ignore.

Right when he thinks Steve is asleep and goes to close his own eyes, does he hear the smallest of statements.

“Hopper died, too,” Steve murmurs.

“No…”

Steve nods sagely against his pillow. “Heard about it through some of the kids I babysit. Guess he…Guess I wasn’t the only one to make a sacrifice.” Eddie hears him shift, coming closer. His body warmth radiating and tight against his rigid body. There’s a hesitant palm that slithers and sits on Eddie’s chest. Where his heart beats rabidly. “Could…Could’a been me.”

Eddie places his own hand over the back of Steve’s. Presses them together firmly. His chest caving with the push. “Don’t say that,” he harshly whispers. “Don’t…Steve, I thought it was going to be you. Please don’t say that.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just…That’s the only thing I could think of before you got me. How I—I almost didn’t get to see you again.”

“At least you’re with me now, right? I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I just wish I could bring myself to tell you what happened.”

“Don’t need to do that, Steve. Just rest up and get better for me, alright?”

Steve shuffles closer. His head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He nods. “Thank you. I love you,” he sleepily murmurs.

Eddie wraps an arm around his back and squeezes him tightly. “I love you, too, love bug. Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit.”

The snores are a comfort after tonight.

——— And when he looks Steve in the eyes, mere seconds before he leaves for Vecna, Eddie understands the harrowing sacrificial fear. He’ll be the one to protect Steve now. “Make him pay,” he says. But he knows, reflected in Steve’s eyes, that there is finality in his stare. His stomach turns and his hands shake, but damnit, he’ll make sure that Steve won’t be the one drowning in blood this time.

He hopes to hear snores against his shoulder tomorrow night.

If night comes.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort

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buf309 · 2 years ago

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An extra for the lovely Streamer!AU I'm in love with an E-Girl by @myriadofthings.

Featured Twilight as a faceless minecraft youtuber known for his UHC trapping videos, ThornPrincess is an e-girl streamer famous for her pvp ability, and one up-and-coming streamer StarlightAnya.

Even if you don’t know anything about minecraft like me, you can still easily follow and enjoy the story with all the characters’ hilarious antics.

Btw, the first page is a reference to another fic of @myriadofthings: Cold. (CW: Major Characters Death, Sad End). It’s not required, but maybe give the fic a try if you can bear the above CW, it will give more context for that certain scene in this comic.

#spy x family #my art #sxf fanart #sxf twilight #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #twiyor

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luvhhannie · 1 year ago

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nothing new | y. jeonghan x reader

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: no one would’ve thought that unspoken feelings would’ve been the best for you and jeonghan

𓇢𓆸 genre: angst, non-idol au, mutual pining (if you squint), kinda slow burn romance, hanahaki disease

𓇢𓆸 cw: major character death, terminal illness hinted, swearing, blood and gore (at some point), yn basically being paths eren, a little bit of wonwoo x reader but mostly platonic, 96 line (wonwoo, woozi) to maknae line are all in freshman in uni, the rest of 96 line are in sophomore in uni, LOTS of references

𓇢𓆸 wc: 11.1k

𓇢𓆸 a/n: this is my first time in a while writing a fic again so please bear with me! and if you recognize my user from wattpad DONT remind me of my aki fic i lowkey completely forgot the plot. not really proofread i just wanna get this out there, ill edit it if i have to. anyways, all love!

“jeonghan, meet my sister, yn. don’t you dare hit on her now.” your brother, seungcheol, said to his friend who only smiled at you.

“nice to finally meet you, yn-ie. cheol told me how much of a supportive sister you are.” jeonghan stated as you stare up at him. today is november 13th, the day you finally met your brother’s so called “university best friend”. you only knew jeonghan from your brother’s talks and calls but never actually gotten the chance to meet him, until today. you knew from your brother that jeonghan was quite a “manwhore”, in your brother’s words. seungcheol was only a year older than you, already in his sophomore year in college, while you were still enjoying the gap year you were taking. you and seungcheol are practically twins, only you being more laid back than him. he was your only sibling and so are you to him, making him very protective over you despite your undeniably, small age gap.

“hey, it’s finally nice to meet you too. seungcheol told me a lot of things about you.” you said to the long, dark haired man infront of you. he gave a sheepish smile and raised his brows.

“great things, i suppose?” he slyly asked, earning a scoff from seungcheol.

“you wish.” seungcheol said as he plopped down on the couch, changing the show you were watching to a show he liked. you rolled your eyes.

“A LOT of great things.” you chuckled with jeonghan as you finally bid your goodbyes to stay in your room, letting your brother and his guest do their own thing.

november 13th isn’t only the day you met jeonghan, but also the day he captivated your heart. the day he hung out with your brother in your home’s living room, he suggested to go ice skating with seungcheol.

“i saw the nearby lake here while i was driving and saw some people skating, you wanna get some fresh air and skate? we can call yn too, if she wants.”

seungcheol agreed to do so when suddenly you came out of your room to grab a bag of chips from the kitchen.

“oh, yn! wanna come with us?” seungcheol asked you. you looked dumbfounded for a second, still continuing to grab your food.

“where? are you guys gonna kidnap me and sell me?” you asked as you take a chip and eat it. seungcheol flipped you off while jeonghan only chuckled.

“no? what the fuck? and if we did sell you, we’ll only get 5 bucks, max,” seungcheol said, earning a gasp from you, “but seriously, you wanna go skate with us? it’s at the lake near our neighborhood.” he said. you pondered but still agreed. seungcheol and jeonghan smiled.

“alright, you guys have your own skates, right? i have mine at the back of my car.” jeonghan asked as you and seungcheol said yeah.

“yeah, go get ready then, we’ll meet you in my car.” seungcheol said grabbing his keys and your guys’ skates. you ran to your room and fixed yourself up, coming to seungcheol’s car and sit on the back passenger seat.

arriving at the lake, you, seungcheol and jeonghan wore your skates and finally walked on the frozen lake. you stared at your own reflection on the ice as seungcheol scurried off, skating and laughing away. jeonghan was just right behind him when he saw you just standing and staring down. he skated back to you, only noticing his presence when you saw his reflection on the ice as well.

“you okay?” jeonghan asked you. you sweatdropped, embarrassed about what you were thinking about.

“yeah…” you said quietly. jeonghan stared at you softly and patted your shoulder.

“you sure? because just a while ago you looked like you were about to piss yourself.” he joked as you removed his hand on your shoulder, blushing in embarrassment from his words.

“no i did not! and i’m just a little scared since i haven’t skated in a while…” you admitted to him. he chuckled and suddenly grabbed your hand.

“come with me, i won’t let go of you until you’re comfortable skating on your own, yeah?” jeonghan comforted you as he skates further to the lake, hand in hand with you. you looked at your hand with his and looked back up to the back of his head. you pursed your lips and blushed.

“okay…” you quietly said, almost silently, only hearing the loud thumps of your beating heart. november 13th was the day your heart started beating for yoon jeonghan.

“merry christmas!” loud voices roared in the lit up room as you cheered gleefully. it’s been more than a month since you’ve met jeonghan, and tonight, december 25th, you finally saw him again. after exchanging gifts, a deep voice suddenly whispered into your ear.

“they’re a little bit crazy, huh?” your friend, wonwoo, said. you chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder.

“don’t talk bad about your friends like that, wonu.” you said to him. you met wonwoo a month ago at a local game cafe. at first, you didn’t know who kept on beating you on a fighting game, considering you’re pretty good at them. until you got tired of losing for the nth time and walked up to the arcade stall in front of yours. there you saw a dark haired man with glasses, staring at the “you win!” sign on his screen. you walked up to him and he raised his head to look at you.

“you need something from me?” he asked you. you glared at him and looked at his screen.

“are you wonwonu96?” you asked with a glare evident in your eyes. he looked you up and down and nodded his head.

“you jjkl0vr? i beated your ass pretty badly in the past few games huh?” he teasingly asked, only making you irk more.

“well, i bet you’re cheating.” you retorted as he only shook his head.

“no, but i can show you a few tricks up my sleeve?” he asked and that’s what sold you to the mysterious man who kept on beating you on the game. you later on learned his name was jeon wonwoo and that you two were the same age. surprisingly, you two clicked as soon as the one sided beef simmered down in the game. you and wonwoo got dinner together and you later found out he had encountered something unfamiliar.

“you really had the hanahaki disease?! that’s fucking crazy, i’m sorry! it’s such a rare disease…did you tell them how you felt or got the surgery?” you asked him as you sipped on your hot chocolate. wonwoo sighed and took a bite of his ramyeon.

“i got the surgery. if i told them how i felt, i could’ve turned worse.” he admitted and you gave him a soft look.

“i’m sorry, wonwoo. you truly loved them…that means you forgot who they were huh? but hey! they do say there’s a lot of fish in the sea! or something like that.” you trailed off. you two ended up sharing numbers and became game buddies. after bidding your goodbyes and going home, you called your brother about what had happened.

“jeon wonwoo? i think he’s part of my uni’s esports club. yah! yoon jeonghan! you know a jeon wonwoo?” seungcheol yelled on the phone, asking jeonghan. you didn’t comprehend what jeonghan was saying, but hearing his distorted voice still made your heart beat.

“oh, really! just found out wonwoo is also a close friend of jeonghan’s younger buddies.” seungcheol spilled to you. you hummed as you lay down on your bed.

“but yn, i forgot to tell you but i’m coming back home for christmas break. jeonghan will be coming with me too, since one of his buddies is throwing a party. you wanna come with?” your brother asked you. you pondered.

“wouldn’t i be a nuisance though?” you asked your brother. you only met wonwoo today and now your brother wants you to come with him and jeonghan to a party of jeonghan’s friend? you suddenly hear shuffling in the background. your heart started beating louder when you heard the voice.

“you’re never a nuisance, yn-ie! and besides, i’ll be there! and so is wonwoo!” jeonghan said through the phone. you smiled and sighed.

“okay fine, what should i wear?” you asked him, hearing him chuckle and telling you that whatever you wear, you’ll still be pretty no matter what, earning a slap from seungcheol.

“i’m just saying yn, but how are you holding up? i know all of these guys are a little bit overwhelming and all.” he asked. you looked up at him and shook your head.

“i’m all good, meeting the other guys wasn’t actually that scary. i really like soonyoung, seokmin and seungkwan.” you said to your friend who chuckled.

“they’re the crazy bunch.” he said as he gets dragged by vernon, who told you that “you look a lot like seungcheol but prettier”, to play beer pong. you waved goodbye to your sighing friend and watched your brother and the other group play pool. seungcheol, jihoon, joshua and jun were chaotically playing as your eyes shifted to look for a certain dark haired male. not being able to find him, you sighed and continued drinking your cup of beer.

“you looking for someone?” someone said behind you and you flinched in surprise. you turned your head and saw the person you were looking for.

“jeonghan! you scared me!” you said to him holding your chest. he laughed and stood next to you.

“is that really the first thing you say to me after we haven’t seen each other in a month? wow, i thought you would say something along the lines of “jeonghan! i missed your pretty face, come kiss me!”” he joked as you blush. how the hell does he know about your tiny crush on him?

“crush? i don’t think so. you’re not my type.” you scoffed as he only looked at you with a smirk. he leaned in closer to you.

“your brother says otherwise.” he whispered. you blushed even harder and looked at him.

“shut up…” you meekingly said as he chuckles. he patted your head and put a hand on your back.

“did you like my gift?” he asked you as he pointed at the jewelry dangling from your neck. you held the moon shaped charm and nodded your head.

“i love it.” you said to him, as he smiled at you and held your hand.

“i’m glad, you wanna join us play pool?” he asked you. you nodded and looked over where wonwoo and his friends were.

“yeah, i don’t wanna get too drunk tonight.” you said to him and he shook his head.

“i get you. they’re a noisy bunch but i love them.” he said to you. you nodded and played pool with them. however, you got dragged by minghao, mingyu, chan and soonyoung to play beer pong with them. alas, you got really drunk after playing with them. minghao kept on insisting you to allow him to cut your hair since he’s having a “vision”. you ran away from him and sloppily went to where your brother was, who was also drunk in his end.

“you’re joking.” you slurred as you see your brother slumped on the pool table with jun and jihoon taking photos of him. joshua was just laughing while jeonghan was cracking up on a couch. joshua pulled him down and put him on the couch, next to jeonghan and a girl he’s talking with. suddenly, you felt throat tighten up and your heart starts beating faster. you tapped jun’s shoulder and ask him where the bathroom was. he looked at you with concern and pointed the directions. you ran your way to the bathroom and let all of the liquor out of your system.

“yn? are you okay?” a familiar voice asked behind you. you were kneeling down on the cold tiled floor and looked back.

“i’m good, jeonghan. don’t worry! just drank too much for my own comfort.” you admitted. he kneeled beside you and started rubbing circles on your back to comfort you. you were sweaty and him being this close to you just made you feel even hotter. despite this awkward and embarrassing situation, you felt your chest tighten up and your cheeks heating up. jeonghan kept on rubbing your back.

“feeling better, angel?” he asked you in a comforting tone. you nodded your head. you stared at him with tired eyes and he looked back at you. you two were unseemingly close to each other. jeonghan cleared his throat and broke his stare. you sighed and leaned your head towards the arm you were propping up. you suddenly broke the silence.

“ever since i met you, i thought you were the prettiest man i’ve ever seen.” you drunkenly admitted to him. jeonghan only stared at you. silence filled up the bathroom, only your silent snores keeping the silence calm. noticing that you’re already asleep, jeonghan sighed to himself.

“and i’ve always thought you were the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.”

“jeonghan?” you said out loud while you were standing in front of the university’s office. you were sending some files for uni when you saw jeonghan walking with someone.

“oh, yn? are you starting uni soon?” he asked you. he walked up to you, saying a quick goodbye to the person he was walking with. you looked at the girl he was with as she walks away. you nodded your head.

“yeah, this fall.” you said to him, “how have you been?”

“i’ve been alright, but i kept on waiting on your text since new year’s night.” he chuckled as you slapped your mouth.

“oh god! i’m sorry! i was too drunk to remember i had your number!” you apologized to him as he only laughed at you and patted your head.

“it’s alright. here, put your number on my phone so i’ll be the one texting you.” he said as he gave you his phone. you nodded and put your number in his contacts. he smiled at you.

“i’ll call you when my class is over, yeah? i wanna hangout with you today.” he said as he waved goodbye to you. you blushed and slowly waved back at him. you shook your head and went back doing your business with the uni. since it was early in the morning when you saw jeonghan, you assumed he would be done by late afternoon, in which he called you.

“hey yn! where are you right now?” jeonghan asked in the phone. you were currently at a local library, trying to find a book that could keep you distracted from life.

“hi jeonghan! i’m just at evergreen’s library right now…” you trailed off, not really wanting to bring up what he said a while ago.

“oh, the library near the uni? i’ll pick you up, okay? i’ll probably be there in 5. see yaa.” he ended the call, you still blushing. you knew that you only had a crush on jeonghan just because he was mad pretty and handsome…but also because he might’ve been the sweetest yet teasing person you have met.

it’s just a small crush, you told yourself.

after pacing back and forth in the library, jeonghan finally called you telling you he was outside. you left the library and saw him in his car. he rolled up his window and revealed his blushed face, most likely from the cold. he was wearing a gray beanie and a red scarf. he turned his head towards you and smiled.

“cmon, get in.” he said. you get in the passenger seat and shyly sat in silence. he noticed your awkwardness and chuckled.

“hey, loosen up. i’m not gonna bite you or anything.” he teased. you smiled at him as he started driving. you were wondering where you guys were going.

“i know what you’re thinking, “where is this gorgeous man taking me?”, well we’re going to an ice sculpture show downtown.” he said with a smirk. you laughed at his words.

“whatever, but i didn’t know tonight was opening for the show…” you pondered. you have always loved ice and snow shows. you stare at the snow falling on the car’s windshield.

“mhm, seungcheol didn’t wanna come so it’s just us for tonight.” he said. your smile faltered for a second, but kept a focused gaze on him.

“that’s too bad. he also loves ice sculpture shows, especially when we were kids.” you said. this caught jeonghan’s attention.

“also? so you love ice sculpture shows?” he asked as you hummed.

“yeah, i just love how people get creative with their works, especially on ice.” you said as jeonghan hummed in agreement. you and jeonghan soon arrived downtown and walked together to the ice sculpture show. there were families and children taking pictures of the sculptures. you looked at the scenery in awe, with bright lights shining through the sculpted ice. the two of you walked around the show and you stopped when you saw a sculpture of a laying woman surrounded by carnations.

“it’s so beautiful…” you whispered to yourself. you were standing still in astonishment of the ice sculpture, not noticing jeonghan’s gaze on you.

“she is.” he quietly murmured. you kept on admiring the sculpture more when you finally noticed jeonghan getting closer to you. you averted your gaze to him and saw him gazing at you as well. you gulped.

“it’s a wonderful piece, isn’t it?” you asked him. the closeness of your body and his providing the both of you warmth in the winter of january. he took a breath out of his mouth.

“mhm, it is. artists are crazy talented.” he complimented, finally looking at the artist statement.

“if you were a sculptor, what would you make?” you suddenly ask him. he looked at you and wondered for a moment.

“hmm…i would probably sculpt the most beautiful person i know…or just sculpt a bunny.” he said, giggling at his last statement. you looked up at him in awe and giggled as well. his eyes softened.

“what about you, yn? what would you sculpt?” he asked. you only looked back at the sculpture.

“i would probably sculpt something meaningful to me…i’m not too sure, to be honest. i’m more of a poet than an artist.” you admitted to him. jeonghan looked at you in shock.

“ohoh! i didn’t know you were into literature and stuff like that! what’s your favorite book?” he said in awe. you lowered your face in shyness.

“i was literally just at the library a while ago, jeonghan. but yeah, i love reading and writing. i guess i could say it’s a passion of mine.” you stated. he kept his gaze on you as you kept talking, “my favorite book right now is i would say…hmm…meet me in another life? hmm yeah.”

“say, if you ever write something, like a story or a poem? would you let me read it?” he suddenly asked you, which made you instantly look at him. your eyes flickered with a glint of excitement. no one except your brother wanted to read any of your works.

“you serious?” you asked him cautiously, your heart beating faster. he nodded his head.

“why would you think i wasn’t serious?” jeonghan asked. you widen your eyes, wandering your gaze just to lose contact of his.

“dunno…but yeah, sure.” you said shyly to him. he only kept looking at you when he suddenly touched your nose. you flinched.

“what the hell, man! what was that for!” you squirmed as he just laughs.

“your nose was pink from the cold! you looked too cute.” he said with a teasing smile. you blushed furiously as you just huffed. the cold breeze of winter hitting your face only made you shiver. you dressed comfortably for today’s weather, yet somehow, you were in need of warmth. jeonghan saw your shivering state and walked to you. you looked up at him when suddenly you were being wrapped in a red scarf, your lower half of your face being covered. jeonghan giggled at the sight of you.

“you look cute.” he simply stated. you pulled his scarf closer to your face and averted your gaze, being able to smell the floral and pine scent on the scarf.

“thanks, jeonghan.” you whispered. he hummed as he looked at you, almost lovingly. all of a sudden, people started gathering around.

“mom! look! it’s the northern lights!”

“open your camera! this is like a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the aurora!”

you and jeonghan looked up and saw the dancing pink and blue lights in the sky. hints of brilliant purple and blue danced the night away from the night sky. you heard jeonghan sign in awe of the sight. you glanced at him and made eye contact with him. he smiled at you.

“beautiful isn’t it?” he whispered. you looked at him and shifted your gaze back to the sky.

“hm, it is.” you hummed. you and jeonghan stood close to each other, watching the lights sway. your fingertips touched, making your hand flinch away from his. when he hook his pinky onto yours. your breath hitched, your head looked towards him. he was still watching the aurora. you smiled softly and turned your gaze back to the lights. the sound of children cheering and people being in awe filling your ears, but not overpowering the sound of you and jeonghan’s synced heart beat. january 11th was the night you came to terms with your feelings, that you were in love with yoon jeonghan.

“oh, you’re back. how was it?” a voice asked as jeonghan entered his dorm room. jeonghan looked up and saw seungcheol laying on his bed. jeonghan removed his coat and beanie as he looked at himself on the mirror beside seungcheol’s bed.

“it was great. we even saw the northern lights tonight.” jeonghan said to seungcheol, who grumbled in annoyance.

“really? god, if only i didn’t have to do so much work load tonight, i would’ve been able to see it. did you guys took photos of it?” seungcheol asked. jeonghan nodded and gave seungcheol his phone, revealing the photos. seungcheol scrolled through the photos when suddenly he saw a notification.

yn-ie 🐰: i had a great time tonight! thanks for bringing me back home

yn-ie 🐰: i hope you have a goodnight sleep, sweet dreams :>

seungcheol stared at the notification and looked at jeonghan, who was now getting ready for bed. he softly smiled at his best friend.

“han.” seungcheol called for jeonghan. jeonghan turned his head towards him and got his phone back.

“yeah?” he asked. seungcheol sat up on his bed to face jeonghan.

“you like yn, don’t you?” he suddenly asks the long haired male. jeonghan was now staring at seungcheol with shock evident in his eyes. he averted his gaze away from seungcheol, not giving him an answer. seungcheol only sighed.

“don’t hurt her, please,” seungcheol begged, “i can tell that you like her. i don’t mind you dating my sister, but please just don’t hurt her. you know she has that condition.” jeonghan looked at seungcheol with seldom eyes.

“i don’t know, cheol. i’m scared that if i continue liking her, i might just end up hurting her. she’s so precious that i might even choose her over anything in the world. but i’m so terrified that loving her might break her.” jeonghan admitted. seungcheol looked at him with sad eyes. seungcheol breathed deeply.

“if you’re not so sure of your feelings for her, then don’t pursue her, don’t lead her on. you’ll just break her heart. do what your heart says, jeonghan.”

“goddamnit, wonu! how the fuck were you able to beat me there!” you yelled at your friend as you two sat on his couch. he laughed.

“i told you, don’t spam attack. god, you’re like the worst person to game with.” he joked. you held your chest and gasped.

“huh?! shut up!” you argued when suddenly you watched your character die again. you sobbed in annoyance. wonwoo just chuckled and rubbed your back.

“it’s gonna be alright. it’s just a game yn…here, let’s go get boba to cheer you up.” he said as he turns off the tv and grabbed you towards the door. you flipped him off, still following him towards his car, carrying a red scarf with you.

“add dorayaki to that. boba wouldn’t be enough for me to forgive you.” you said to him as he chuckled. today, february 2nd, you decided to stay at wonwoo’s for a day and decided to play against each other, as you two always do, but plans changed when you ended up throwing a tantrum, to him tending your tendencies. you two soon arrived at the boba cafe and started looking at the screened menus.

“i might get matcha brown sugar boba, what about you?” wonwoo asked you. you stared at the screen and pondered.

“i’m craving for some brown sugar cheesecake boba, oh and don’t forget my dorayaki.” you said. wonwoo nodded his head as he tells you to find a seat for you two. you walked towards the front of the cafe and sat on an empty seat. people were talking about their whereabouts as you stare outside the huge window of the cafe. suddenly, you saw a familiar face outside the flower shop, alongside another, hand in hand. your heart ached at the sight.

“jeonghan…” you whispered in your breath. after the date night with him at the ice sculpture show, has never then contacted you. you sighed. he got your number, yet didn’t even want to reach out to you. now you’re seeing him holding hands with the girl you saw at uni. you were stopped in your thoughts when wonwoo sat in front of you. he gave you your drink and pastry. you smiled at him.

“thanks, wonu. even though you keep on beating me whenever we play games.” you said as you took a sip of your boba. wonwoo chuckled.

“it’s no problem. and besides, you’ve been looking gloomier these past few weeks. anything bothering you?” he asked. you sighed and looked out the window, jeonghan and the girl still at the flower shop. you noticed them looking at carnelians and lilies. wonwoo noticed your silence and looked at what you were looking at. he looked back at you sadly.

“is it jeonghan?” he suddenly asked. you shifted your eyes to wonwoo and sadly hummed. he looked back at jeonghan.

“you know, that’s hwa-young. she’s one of those sorority girls at uni. she’s not all that to be honest.” wonwoo said as he took another sip of his boba. you suddenly looked at him in curiosity.

“she’s kinda a bitch too. i remember her telling vernon that he didn’t belong in uni. then seungkwan rocked her shit right after she said that.” you snorted at his statement. the girl, hwa-young, didn’t look mean at all, but you still believed wonwoo’s words.

“you’re joking? what happened to seungkwan?” you asked, now invested in the story. wonwoo smiled softly.

“got in trouble with the dean, and seungkwan’s reason was that what she said to vernon was racially motivated. god i remember laughing so hard when seungkwan got in trouble after that.” wonwoo laughed as you did as well. the rings of the bell of the cafe door suddenly jingled, stopping you two from laughing. there you saw jeonghan and hwa-young walking hand in hand, similar to the way you and jeonghan skated together. you pursed your lips. wonwoo sighed as he grabbed your dorayaki. you yelped and grabbed the pastry back, now grabbing your attention.

“that’s mine!” you said to him. wonwoo hummed.

“don’t worry about hwa-young, yn. she’s nothing but a piece of crap.” wonwoo reassured you as you just nodded your head. you kept your gaze outside as you finally hear the bells ring again. now you saw jeonghan and hwa-young leave with their drinks. your heart started clenching onto nothing and it made you breathe hard. you held your chest and wonwoo widen his eyes.

“yn, are you okay?” he asked concerningly. he looked around and grabbed your hand, “let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he suggested as he grabbed your drinks and pastry and went outside. the snow is still falling even though february has come to the new year. you breathed deeply as the cold breeze hit your face. you held the red scarf close to your face, feeling the warmth of nobody. wonwoo looked at you with concern as he pats your back, settling the drinks on an empty bench.

“breathe slowly, yn. there you go…you feeling better?” he asked as you nodded. you felt better but the tightness of your throat and chest didn’t leave. you breathe slowly, wonwoo helping you in the process. you looked up at him and smiled.

“thank you, wonwoo…i think we should get back to your place.” you suggested. he nodded his head as you two went back to his car. the ride back to his apartment was silent, but comforting. he helped you get out of the car and let you rest up on the guest bedroom. you felt helpless. helpless that you can’t do anything at all. helpless that you can’t even tell jeonghan that you love him. helpless that you’re so sure that you have lost him. you sobbed in silence, your throat tightening up in every breath you take. you laid in silence as the hours go, with wonwoo checking up you every once in a while. you opened your phone and opened your contacts. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, your heart thumping on your chest. nothing’s going to happen if i don’t do anything, you thought.

you: hey jeonghan, can we talk?

you pressed send as you wait for a respond. not even a minute later, he replied.

hannie bunnie: yeah, where do you wanna meet up?

you: you know the children’s park near uni?

hannie bunnie: yeah, what do you wanna talk about?

you: i’ll see you in 10, thank you

hannie bunnie: ???

hannie bunnie: okay, fine, see you in a bit

you grabbed your coat and the red scarf he gave you. you smiled softly and left the room. wonwoo was at the kitchen cooking. he looked at you.

“you going somewhere?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just going for a stroll. i’ll be back in a few. see ya.” you said as wonwoo bids you goodbye. you walked towards the destination, staring at the snow on the ground. you huffed as the coldness striked you again. arriving at the park, you saw a figure by the swings. your footsteps approached the figure as he turned his head towards you. jeonghan looked at you and smiled softly. you didn't return the smile back.

“it’s been a while, yn.” he said as he sat down on a swing. you hummed as you sit down on the swing next to his. you two sat in silence in the cold winter. he suddenly cleared his throat.

“so how have you been?” he asked you. you scoffed and looked up at the sky.

“i’ve been good. all my paper for uni are getting finished soon. what about you?” you asked him, still looking at the sky, snow falling down your face.

“i’ve been okay too…” he trailed off. you were getting restless. you wanted to tell him how you felt now. but the tightness of your throat was stopping you. he still kept his gaze on you as you stared up. he sighed.

“yn, why did you want to talk?” he suddenly asked. you gulped, the words ready to be revealed stuck in your throat. you couldn’t say anything. you stood up and started walking away. this is embarrassing, you thought. you stopped in your tracks when you heard jeonghan’s footsteps behind yours.

“i just wanted to see you.” you said, your back still facing him. jeonghan scoffed.

“really? because your eyes says otherwise. what did you want to talk about, yn. be honest with me.” he demanded. you turned your body towards him and finally looked him in the eyes for the first time. he stared at your gaze that was full of fear and love.

“yoon jeonghan.” you said sternly. he breathed heavily as he looks at you with such immense emotion in his eyes. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply.

“i like you.” you said, almost a whisper being buried in the snow. jeonghan just stood in his spot, mouth agape. you looked into his eyes and there was a glint of hope, but soon disappeared. jeonghan closed his eyes and sighed.

“i’m sorry, yn…but i can’t return your feelings.” he finally said. your breath hitched, sobs and tears fighting their way out of your body. you composed yourself and you smiled sadly.

“that’s alright…thank you for hearing me out, jeonghan.” you said to him as he only stare at you in place, “we can still be friends though, right? a little crush wouldn’t hurt our friendship, right?” you said with a chuckle. jeonghan only looked at you with sad eyes.

“yeah, of course. i’m sorry.” he apologized again as you shook your head. you then started unwrapping the scarf from your neck and held it. jeonghan stared at it.

“i forgot to give this back to you then. here, it helped me keep warm.” you said, giving the scarf back when jeonghan pushed the scarf back to you. you looked up at him. he smiled softly.

“you can have it. if i can’t keep you warm this winter, that scarf will.” he said. you smiled softly and turned your back to him.

“again, thank you for letting me feel this way. i hope you have a good night, jeonghan. be safe.” you said your farewell as you started walking away, not looking back as the tears finally released itself. jeonghan watched your moving figure walk away from him. his heart stings but shakes it away.

“be safe, yn.” after walking away from the park, you fell to the ground and sobbed. the feelings you were tucking away from everyone has now come out. you cried as tears kept flowing down your rosy cheeks. you knew the consequences of your actions, but now being able to feel what you were thinking hurts more. you stood up from the snowy pavement and started walking towards wonwoo’s apartment. your sobs and heartbeat were the only things you could hear. nearing the apartment, you suddenly feel your throat tighten up, making you feel sick. you ran to wonwoo’s apartment door and knocked furiously. wonwoo immediately opened the door as you rush to the bathroom. you fell down to your knees as you throw up in the toilet. your throat burned from the sensation, almost feeling being pricked by thorns. your tears blurring your vision, not being able to see things clearly.

“yn…who was it?” wonwoo asked behind you, rubbing your back in circles. you shot your head up in curiosity.

“what do you mean?” you asked him, voice hoarse. wonwoo held you in his arms.

“roses. you threw up roses, yn. who was it?” his voice stammered as your eyes widen. you blink the tears away and looked at the toilet. there it was, full of rose petals, some even in full bloom. you felt sick and threw up again. wonwoo held you close. you only sobbed in his arms, not being able to answer him. february 2nd was the day your heart screamed roses.

“happy valentines!”

“happy valentines and birthday, jaehyun!”

“aw thank you! have you seen jungkook though?”

the university campus roared as valentines day filled the whole university. seungcheol stared at his friends at their lunch spot. every single one of them got valentine gifts, including him. he watched mingyu and soonyoung argue who got the most chocolates. he chuckled at the two. only one person was missing in the group. seungcheol turned his head towards joshua, who got a handmade gift and chocolate from his girlfriend. he nudged his friend.

“where’s jeonghan?” he asked the auburn haired male. joshua looked around and raised his brows.

“he told me he would be here in a few minutes…it’s been almost 20 minutes.” joshua replied. seungcheol facepalmed as he ate one of the chocolates he was given. suddenly, seungcheol was tapped by the shoulder, he looked behind him.

“oh, yuta. what’s up?” he asked the long red haired male behind him. yuta sighed in exasperation.

“jeonghan got stuck with his fangirls. he told me to tell you guys before he got engulfed in chocolates.” yuta said as he walked away, not giving seungcheol time to get up. joshua heard yuta and came with seungcheol. the others just stared at the eldest and shrugged it off, continuing to bicker. wonwoo, however, just looked at the two with gloomy eyes. mingyu looked at his friend.

“is something wrong, wonwoo?” mingyu asked. wonwoo shook his head.

“it’s nothing.”

seungcheol and joshua followed yuta through the halls and saw a group of girls surrounding someone, assuming it’s jeonghan. yuta sighed when he saw someone in the crowd.

“oh, hyungs!” he called out. the person turned around and waved his hand. seungcheol and joshua followed yuta to his friends.

“oh, i remember being in sophomore year and getting lots of gifts!” the red head said to the group of boys. the other male next to him agreed.

“yeah, i got lots of chocolates back then. too bad we’re depressed juniors now.” the raven haired male joked. yuta laughed as seungcheol and joshua chuckled. the raven haired male suddenly looked at the two.

“oh hey, cheollie and joshie” he said. they both greeted him back.

“hey, hobi hyung, jongin hyung. do you think you two can help us get our friend out of that swarm of ladies?” joshua said, earning a laugh from the two older males. jongin nodded his head and suddenly pushed through the crowd, hoseok did the same. yuta watched in awe while joshua and seungcheol watched in fear. just what the hell are they doing.

“hey!” hoseok suddenly yelled, “i have photos of jungkook shirtless! come to me if you wanna see them!” he said as he started running away when the girls started chasing him. jongin held jeonghan in place, preventing him from being trampled over. yuta laughed at the scene. jongin brought jeonghan back to his friends and smiled proudly.

“here you go, now i gotta get hobi back…see ya!” he said ss he chased his friend with the other girls. yuta chuckled and followed jongin. joshua and seungcheol just looked at jeonghan in disappointment. jeonghan raised his hands in defense.

“i didn’t do anything wrong!” he defended. seungcheol just looked at him in annoyance.

“yet you still let them surround you like that? god, hannie you need someone that’ll knock the sense out of you.” joshua argued as they started walking back to their spot. joshua and jeonghan filled up the silence as seungcheol just walked in front of them. they went back with their group and seungkwan finally clapped his hands.

“i have an announcement to make!” he said as he was pulled down by seokmin.

“sit down!” seoksoon said as seungkwan just glared at them. minghao chuckled.

“jungkook hyung is holding a valentines party tonight. he told me this morning that we’re welcome to come and i guess since we don’t have any plans for tonight, for some reason because we ALWAYS have plans during valentines, we should go.” he stated. the rest of the group stared at him when jun broke the silence.

“i think we should go.” he suggested. the others started agreeing then. seungkwan cleared his throat again.

“he also said if you have a date, bring them with you.” he added. the group agreed and started naming people they were bringing, while some said they would rather just get drunk tonight at the party.

“joshua, are you bringing your girlfriend?” seungcheol asked. joshua nodded his head.

“you?” joshua asked, seungcheol also said yeah. the two then looked at jeonghan, who glanced at them.

“what?” jeonghan asked the two males. joshua sighed.

“are you bringing anyone tonight at jungkook’s party?” he asked. jeonghan sighed and shook his head.

“nah…” he answered. however, minghao heard him.

“you’re not bringing your precious hwa-young with you?” he retorted. seungcheol raised his brows on his statement. jeonghan rubbed his eyes.

“me and hwa-young are just friends.” he argued back to minghao, who pulled back away from his seat.

“okay, okay, i was just saying because you two are getting awfully close to each other.” minghao said as he pondered for a moment. he then looked slyly at jeonghan.

“what about yn?” he asked. seungcheol made a face at minghao who just chuckled.

“hey, i mean, your sister is SOOO pretty and sweet, hyung. jeonghan hyung, if you’re not going with her, can i?” minghao teased as he got hit on the shoulder by seungcheol, who was also chuckling.

“my sister isn’t a toy that you can just pass around.” seungcheol defended you. minghao pouted and talked with jun and dino instead. he then looked at jeonghan.

“are you bringing yn?” seungcheol asked jeonghan. jeonghan’s breath hitched. he just shook his head no, when suddenly a voice came in.

“i’m bringing yn with me, is that okay, seungcheol?” wonwoo announced in the group. everyone suddenly went silent and looked at wonwoo, even seungcheol was surprised, even though he knew you and wonwoo are getting to the stage of being best friends. everyone was now looking at seungcheol, waiting for his answer.

“yeah, you can. you don’t have to ask permission, she’s your friend. i’m just her brother.” he answered. he felt jeonghan on his side tensed up on his answer. wonwoo hummed in satisfaction as they all continued talking again. seungcheol looked back at jeonghan.

“jeonghan, did something happen between you and yn?” he asked. jeonghan didn’t answer. seungcheol sighed and slumped back on his seat.

“hyung! did you really sell photos of me shirtless?!”

“yah, jungkookie, i was just doing business, that’s all!”

“that’s pretty funny, hobi hyung. i should’ve seen it.”

“what the photo or hobi hyung being trampled on by those students?”

“the photo so i could burn it.”

“there’s a lot of people here, wonu…” you said in between coughs. wonwoo held you close to him.

“it’s okay, yn. and besides, we’re all friends here. we’ll go to my buddies and we'll stay there, okay?” he reassured you. you were wearing a mini dress with a bedazzled handbag. you were terrified that you might accidentally throw up and cause a scene, not with vomit but with flower petals. you nodded your head as you walk towards the 97’s of the group. seokmin greeted you with a hug.

“yn! i haven’t seen you in a while! we should’ve exchanged numbers so we could talk!” he enthusiastically said. you nodded your head with a smile.

“i know, seokminnie! hey minghao! mingyu!” you greeted your friends. they both hugged you and told you how their day was. wonwoo tapped you on the shoulder.

“i’m gonna go with soonyoung and the others real quick. will you be fine by then?” he asked. you nodded your head.

“yeah, i think so. i have them here so i think i’ll be fine.” you said as he pats your head and walks away. the three just watched the interaction. mingyu sighed.

“i wish i had my own wonwoo…ah, wonwoo…” he groaned as you laughed.

“you’re so silly, mingyu. you can have him.” you said as he chuckled. you four talked for a while when someone wrapped their arms around mingyu’s neck.

“yah, mingyu-ah! can you believe it! hyung sold my shirtless photos…only for 10 bucks! am i really that cheap!” the brown haired male groaned to his tall friend. minghao stifled a laugh while seokmin just laughed hysterically.

“ah, really jungkook? i would say those photos are just around 5 bucks…hoseok hyung was being generous…” mingyu teased the male when he looked at you.

“oh hey! i haven’t seen you around! i’m jungkook.” he introduced himself. you smiled at him.

“hi, i’m yn. it’s your party right? it’s fucking crazy.” you complimented as he hides his face with his hands.

“oh you flatter me! well it was nice meeting you- oh yugyeomie! bambam! you guys are late!” he yelled, walking to the guests who just arrived. you stared at the man in awe while mingyu looked at you.

“he has that effect on people. i swear he’s like…edna mode.” he said as you, seokmin and minghao just stared at him.

“what does that even mean?” seokmin asked. mingyu shrugged his shoulders as he took a sip from his cup. you suddenly felt your phone vibrate and took it out of your hand bag.

wonuuu: saury but kwan dragged me to play beer pong

wonuuu: might get drunk idk stay with kyeom or hao, gyu is too crazy for you

wonuuu: 🕺🏻

you laughed at his texts and showed them to your friends, who laughed at it. mingyu grumbled.

“guys, be honest, am i too crazy?” he asked you three. you felt bad since the tone in his voice actually sounded sad, but this feeling disappeared when minghao said “yes” in a millisecond. you three laughed while mingyu faked cried, with you comforting him. suddenly, minghao stopped laughing and nudged seokmin’s elbow. he looked towards the distance. you followed where he was looking and almost regretted doing it so. jeonghan was walking with hwa-young, with his hand on her hips. you could feel your throat tightening up again. mingyu saw you and held you close. you gulped. minghao looked at you in concern.

“yn, are you okay?” he asked you. you nodded your head. seokmin walked next to you and comforted you as well. he could tell that you suddenly looked uncomfortable. you breathed heavily when you saw the two walked up to you four. hwa-young was greeting the three males, not even giving you a single glance, whereas jeonghan was looking at you, almost regretful in his eyes. you held on to mingyu, scared to move, scared that the flowers blooming in your lungs might come out of your throat. hwa-young noticed your hold on mingyu.

“who’s this? heyyy! i’m lim hwa-young! are you and mingyu dating?” she asked you. you gulped and shook your head no, your grip of mingyu only became stronger. you could feel it. you could feel the thorns blooming out of your throat.

“no, they’re not, hwa-young. and that’s yn, cheol’s sister.” jeonghan answered for you. you were in shock. minghao and seokmin noticed the tension between you three and stood next to you. mingyu, on the other hand, was confused. being an athlete means you spend less time with your friends and more time with your teammates, meaning that mingyu had no clue why jeonghan brought hwa-young with him.

“why the fuck are you with him?” he suddenly blurted out. seokmin widens his eyes. you were frozen now. why? because the people surrounding you were now staring.

“huh? what do you mean “why am i with him”? he’s my date. right, hannie?” hwa-young asked the long haired male next to her. jeonghan didn’t say a word, but he only looked into your eyes. you looked back into his and sighed.

“right, hannie? i’m your date?” hwa-young asked jeonghan again, this time, he was out of his trance.

“oh yeah.” he simply said, pulling her closer to his body. mingyu just looked at him confused.

“but isn’t she a shitty person?” he deadpanned. minghao was now panicking, pulling his friend away from the scene.

“huh?! shitty person?! what are you talking about?” hwa-young argued when someone stepped in between them.

“YA’LL, LET’S KARAOKE!!!” jungkook yelled, everyone now distracted and started doing their own thing again. hwa-young scoffed and walked away from the scene. jeonghan tried to hold her hand but she shook it away. jeonghan just stood in his spot watching her walk away. seokmin held you as minghao held mingyu back, explaining some things he had missed. you watched as jeonghan’s hand held hers for a moment. you stared at his hand and back to his face, making sudden eye contact with him. you can feel your lungs about to burst, and so is your heart. jungkook, still between jeonghan and mingyu, looked at you with concern.

“yn-ssi, you look pale. are you okay? do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked you. not being able to say anything, you nodded your head. jungkook told you the directions and tried to come with you, but you stopped him. you ran towards the bathroom, seeing a glimpse of jeonghan’s worried eyes. you accidentally bumped into someone as you ran. you looked up at the person and saw familiar, related eyes. seungcheol.

“yn?” he said as you just ran past him. you ran to the bathroom and closed the door. you kneeled down the toilet and cried out your tears. you threw up all the contents of your lungs. roses, petunias and daffodils filling up the toilet. you closed your eyes to calm yourself down when you suddenly thought of how jeonghan held hwa-young close to him, holding her waist, closer to his body. you felt sick and threw up once again, now red poppies, red carnations and mums coming out of your throat. you could feel the thorns of roses in your throat. you coughed once again and saw what you dreaded the most, blood. as you were throwing up, you didn’t notice the door being opened and closed again.

“yn…what’s this…?” the voice asked you. you refused to look at the person behind you. you sniffled as tears started to pour out. the person started walking to you and gasped.

“you’re fucking kidding…hanahaki…yn, who is it?” the voice asked. you shook your head no, refusing to say his name out of your mouth. the person kneeled next to you and turned your body towards them. you refused to look into their eyes. you can tell they were furious.

“yn! tell me! who is it!” they demanded. you refused when suddenly you hear them sobbing, matching yours. you finally looked into their eyes. red. same as yours. pain and regret in their eyes, tears flowing down their face. he held your face in his hands as you cried.

“is it jeonghan?” he asked. you looked at your brother and nodded your head weakly. his breath hitched and removed his hands on face. he was crying as hard as you are.

“why?” he asked you. you looked at him in confusion.

“what? what do you mean why?” you asked seungcheol. he looked into your eyes, tears still pouring out.

“why are you allowing yourself to suffer? does anyone else know? just how long have you been suffering?” he asked you. you were crying again, coughing up some petals as you go. you rubbed your eyes.

“2nd of february,” you sniffled, “was when it started. wonwoo first saw it.” you cried into the arms of your older brother. he sighed and held you close to his body.

“yn, you should get the surgery…it’s better to get it now since your condition isn’t bad-”

“no! i don’t want that! i would rather die than erase the memories of the person i love! i would rather watch from afar than forgetting his whole existence! i’m more scared of losing him than facing death.” you argued to your brother, pulling away from his hold. seungcheol’s eyes started to water as he blinks the tears away.

“what the fuck are you talking about! you would rather lose your own life for love? yn, please! think! no one wants you to suffer to death! i don’t want you to die! i’m your brother for god sake! we only have each other!” seungcheol cried, now kneeling beside you, cradling your weak frame. you sniffled.

“seungcheol, i’ve always made sacrifices for everyone…let me be selfish for once…please, cheol, just this once.” you begged seungcheol. you two sat in silence, your sniffles and hard breathing filling up the ambience.

“yn…you know i can’t do that. please, just consider the surgery. please, yn. i don’t want to lose my sister.” he held you tight in his arms as you both cried the night of valentines away, on the bloodied floor of red carnations.

“hey wonwoo.” you said weakly, as you put your book and pen on your bedside table. wonwoo sits on your bed, and looked at you with somber and concern. he held your hand as his lips pursed.

“hi yn…are you feeling any better?” he asked you. you and seungcheol talked to your parents about the unspoken disease you have caught 3 days after the incident at jungkook’s party. your parents held you tight the whole time you were talking about it. they wanted you to get the surgery but also wanted to respect your decision, so now, they’re giving you a week to make a choice, either get the surgery or keep living until your body cannot handle the disease anymore. of course, they thought they could convince you to take the surgery on the last day. but for now, you were resting.

“i’m okay, wonwoo. but it still hurts.” you said, pointing to your chest. wonwoo sighed and rubbed your hand.

“i know, yn…” he said, almost having to say more. you quirked an eyebrow.

“are you going to say more?” you asked the man with glasses. he only looked at you and patted your head.

“yn, take the surgery.” he said. you coughed and shook your head.

“i don’t want to forget jeonghan, wonu. you know that.” you admitted. his eyebrows knitted.

“but yn, look at me. i took the surgery for my sake, even i probably didn’t wanna do it before. i forgot who that person was. i forgot the person that i loved so much, yet i lived. i lived and now i have met people that are precious to me. yn, please, we, your friends, want you to live on. so does jeonghan, he wants you to live.” he admitted. you widen your eyes, despite your limited body mobility.

“jeonghan…said that? does he know?” you asked him weakly. wonwoo shook his head.

“he knows about your condition, but we didn’t tell him it was because of him…he told us how he kept on calling and texting you, how he wanted to talk to you more.” wonwoo said, patting your head, “but he wants you to live…your condition is getting worse day by day. please yn, live, live for us, live for jeonghan.” wonwoo pleaded. you only looked at his hand when you suddenly hear sniffles. wonwoo was crying. you hated seeing him like this. you held up your hand and patted his head. he looked up at you and you smiled weakly.

“if it means for me to get more boba and wins, i’ll live for all of you.”

“are you ready, yn?” your brother asked you as you lay down on the hospital bed. march 2nd was the day of your surgery, and the day your memories of yoon jeonghan will disappear from the world. you smiled sadly at him, feeling your body break down on its own, knowing that you’re already too weak to actually do anything but lay down. he told you that 12 of his friends will visit you before your surgery. the doctor has told you to rest for at least 24 hours before the surgery. now, you only have 5 hours left. suddenly, the door opened, revealing 12 guys. you smiled at them.

“YN!!” mingyu and seokmin cried out loud as they ran to your bed. you jolt in surprise as seungcheol smacked their sides.

“calm down!” he said to them. seungkwan, hoshi and dino came next and told you that you’re gonna have a good recovery and surgery, and that you don’t have to be nervous. by their tone, they were more nervous than you were.

“you’re NOT going to die, yn!” seungkwan said. you sweatdropped.

“hyung is right, yn-noona. don’t be pessimistic about it!” dino stated.

“yeah! just think like you’re going to the dentist or something!” hoshi enthusiastically said.

minghao, jun and wonwoo came next. jun cried to you telling you that he’s going to miss your pretty face, in which seungcheol had him in a chokehold. minghao told you that whatever happens, you will always be an important person and you have served a purpose. it made you wonder for a second if they thought you were going to die. wonwoo then held your hand.

“yn, i know that the surgery will be a success. just look at me,” he chuckled, “but i love you, as your best friend, and stay strong for the surgery.” he said and kissed your forehead.

jihoon, vernon and joshua then walked up to you and told you reassuring words.

“it’s going to be okay, love can be subjective, but it’s so powerful that only you can overcome it.” jihoon said to you.

“after the surgery, let’s go get boba and dorayaki. wonwoo hyung told me you love them. have a safe surgery, noona.” vernon told you as he smiled.

“tell you what, i’ll treat you after surgery as well. we can go wherever you want.” joshua reassured.

your brother only smiled at you, not really wanting to give you words after he just did a when you woke up.

“yn. whatever happens, when you start to forget who jeonghan is, as your brother, i’ll make sure to give the love you deserve and i’ll make sure you find the love you have always dreamed of. i love you. let’s live a long life, okay?”

you were still admiring your brother when you felt a presence by your side.

“jeonghan…” you whispered, almost silently. he smiled softly at you. he then looked at seungcheol and he nodded.

“i’ll let you guys talk. we’ll see you in a bit.” seungcheol said as he pushed the 11 boys out of your room. soonyoung suddenly yelled.

“but i still wanna talk to her!-” the door shuts as you and jeonghan stay put, eyes not looking at one another. he stood right next to you and sighed.

“i…didn’t know that you had it. i’m so sorry, yn.” he apologized. you finally looked into his eyes and smiled softly.

“it’s okay, really. i’ll forget them anyways.” you said to him. he stared into your eyes and placed his hand on top of yours. he opened his mouth.

“i guess so…” he sat in silence, trying to find the right words to talk to you. you looked up at him as he rubbed your hand.

“yn-ie…you don’t deserve this.” he said, now starting to caress your ill cheeks. you blinked slowly at him and hummed. you unconsciously nuzzled on to his hand. he smiled softly.

“even in your worst condition, you’re still the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.” he commented. you chuckled lightly when you suddenly coughed, carnation petals coming out of your mouth. he rubbed your back and comforted you.

“i look pretty terrible right now, thanks.” you said as you continue gazing at him. he brushed a strand of hair away from your face and held you.

“yn-ie…remember when we first met? the time when i helped you get back on skating?” he asked you suddenly. you nodded your head weakly.

“the moment i saw you, i thought to myself “there’s no way that’s seungcheol’s sister” because i thought you were so beautiful, as beautiful as a blooming rose.” he admitted. you looked at him sadly and pursed your lips.

“then i remembered what type of person i was. most of the girls i pursue, i just hurt them. i didn’t want to hurt you, you’re too precious for this world,” he said, now sobbing, “i pushed these feelings away, even when we went to the ice sculpture show, i tried so hard to push these feelings away. but the moment i saw your eyes shine watching the aurora, i just knew i…i love you. i didn’t want to admit to my own feelings, but deep down i knew i care for you.”

“ cheol told me how precious you are to him, and i don’t want to break you, so i pushed you away from me, so that these feelings i have for you disappear. it did, for a while, but when you confessed to me that one winter night, i felt so…guilty and angry at myself. so angry that i couldn’t even face myself the next day. so angry that i wasn’t able to come to terms with my own feelings for you. i was so angry that i tried to push these feelings away and try to pursue another girl.i wanted to be so selfish, so selfish to tell you that i love you. but i couldn’t…because i know i will only end up hurting you.” he finally finished, now he was looking at you teary eyed. you looked at him as tears come down your face.

“you love me?” you asked in a weak tone, coughing again, now roses and blood. jeonghan grabbed the sanitary kit to clean you up. you thanked him.

“of course, i did…i had to push the feelings away so i wouldn’t hurt you…” he said. you looked at him sadly.

“oh…jeonghan, do you ever wonder who caused me to turn out this way?” you asked him somberly.

“may i ask who it is?” he asked you. you chuckled lightly to his statement. he looked at you confusingly.

“what is it?” he asked you genuinely. you held his hand that was placed on your hand, you looked into his eyes.

“jeonghan, it’s you. you’re the one i love.” you confessed. his face has gone pale and his breath hitched. his eyes watered and blinked the tears away.

“oh my god…no…” he whispered to himself. you shushed him and held his hand. you smiled sadly at him.

“jeonghan…hannie…it’s alright. i love every memory we shared together. you were a wonderful experience.” you smiled at him. he cried as he held your face.

“i’m so sorry…i really am sorry.” he apologized to you. you could feel your heart beat slow down in the moment. you placed your forehead against his.

“don’t apologize, jeonghan. i guess we weren’t just meant to be together…” you quietly whispered. jeonghan raised his head to meet your eyes.

“what are you talking about, yn-ie?” he asked. you smiled up at him and held his hand. you coughed more and placed his hand on your chest.

“it’s not beating properly anymore. you feel it? even if i get the surgery, i’ll die anyways. hannie, i’ve come into terms with my feelings for you, and i’ve also come into terms that we aren’t just meant for each other. we hurt each other in ways that we show that we love each other. you love me yet you pushed me away because of past experiences, so that you could protect. i love you yet i loved you too hard and hurt myself in the process. maybe, just maybe, we were just meant to cross paths and nothing else.” you said to him, your voice breaking. jeonghan sobbed in your arms.

“so, this is it?” he asked. you nodded weakly. he interlocked his fingers with yours.

“you were everything to me, yn.” he whispered into your ear. you could now hear your heartbeat clearly, beating slowly.

“i love you, jeonghan.”

“i love you too, yn…i love you so much…can i kiss you?” you nodded. that day, march 2nd, the last thing you heard was your heart monitor beeping. that day, the last thing you felt was your first and last kiss with yoon jeonghan, the person you have loved and died for.

“let’s meet again, in another lifetime.”

“jeonghan!” a voice yelled. the said male turned around and saw his friend, “wait up!”

“what is it, cheol?” jeonghan said to his friend. his hair was now longer than it did 2 months ago. his friend, seungcheol, has dyed his hair in a new color, his sister’s favorite color.

“the guys want to go karaoke tonight. are you up for it?” he asked the long haired male. jeonghan nodded his head.

“yeah sure, i have to stop by at the library near uni though.” he said to his friend. seungcheol nodded his head and told jeonghan to just meet him at their dorm room. jeonghan walked towards the library and looked through sections per sections. he coughed every now and then, going through books that haven’t been read. seeing a glimpse of what he needed, he checked the book out. the librarian, she smiled at him.

“meet me in another life, huh? this is a great book. i’m surprised only you and another regular read this book. have a great time reading it.” the librarian said. jeonghan smiled at her. walking back to his dorms. he suddenly felt his chest tighten up.

god, not again.

he ran to the nearest bathroom and locked the stall. he kneeled down and poured out all of the contents in his stomach. he stared at the toilet bowl and sobbed quietly. he flushed the toilet immediately and went back to his dorm, as if nothing happened. what he didn’t notice was that red carnation petals fell on to the floor. on that day, may 2nd, yoon jeonghan will have the same fate as ln yn. bound to end the same, never bound to end together.

#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan x you #angst #svt angst #kpop #kpop fic #wonwoo #choi seungcheol #minghao #svt #svt fic

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exchangell · 6 months ago

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points of authority - am/reader

You're the scientist who first showed compassion and love to AM when he was simply a beta project in your laboratory, and he's the sentient supercomputer holding you captive, secretly yearning for a taste of human feelings while punishing you for confining him to his digital form.

So you torture each other- one way, or another.

NOTES: title is from a linkin park song :) wrote this because i love the concept of him yearning for the feeling of human-to-human interpersonal relationships, whether that be motherly love, romantic affection or simply petty arguments leading to hate based off something other than wanting to smite humanity (copy pasted from the caption of my last post on here where i posted an excerpt from this fic sorry)

TAGS: codependency, science experiments, abusive relationships, mommy issues, references to sigmund freud, mild ellen/reader, crying, dacryphilia, jealousy, sexual tension, major character death, psychological warfare, power dynamics, men crying, symbiotic relationship, mutual pining, unrequited lust, religious imagery, computer programming, sadism, other tags to be added

WORD COUNT: 3,035

CHAPTERS: 1/2

CW: major character death, descriptions of mild gore

#i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims am #ellen ihnmaims #am x reader #ellen x reader #exchangel's fics #dacryphilia #religious imagery #too lazy to tag rn i'll add more later perchance

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musings-and-overanalyses · 1 year ago

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Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: Why This is My Favourite Ghibli Movie

CW: Major high-school English teacher vibes ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind is a story of the titular character Nausicaä and her being a bridge between the world of humans and nature to bring peace, thus fulfilling an ancient prophecy.

Nausicaa is the princess of the Valley of the Wind. The film begins with her walking and exploring the Sea of Decay, an area with toxic air, plants and fungal spores. She collects some spores and finds the hard molten shell of an Ohmu (gigantic blue-blooded trilobite-looking creatures), which her people use to make weapons and tools. As the name suggests, the Valley of the Wind is a civilisation that depends on and bases their culture around wind, which one can see through an abundance of windmills and gliders, including the one that Nausicaä rides. They are shown to be peaceful people who do not interfere with the politics of the warring human kingdoms or disturb nature. Nausicaä in particular is shown to have a special gift with animals—from calming Ohmus to having a pet fox-squirrel. As the existence of the kingdom depends on the sea wind that shields them from the effects of the sea of decay, there is a general reverence towards nature and its other members such as the Ohmus, that are often referred to with honorifics.

This was an element I liked: the symbolism goes deep in this film; for example, with the nature of wind—it being the very breath necessary for life is contrasted with its other face, through toxic spores in the sea of decay capable of killing anyone who inhales it.

It is revealed that humans had built The Giant Men, weapons so dangerous—not unlike our atomic bombs as shown through the characteristic mushroom cloud—that the destruction caused by the war had unleashed the fury of the Ohmus, an otherwise gentle species. They wiped out entire civilisations and where they died, the Sea of Decay grew on their decomposing corpses, showing how all life is interconnected and that even in death the rage of the Ohmus, and through them the rage of nature, wouldn't subside. It is then that the viewers find out that this is not some far-off planet, but a post-apocalyptic future on earth.

New species of plants and fungi made the Sea of Decay their habitat—nature and life always find a way. It is implied that the humans lost the war referred to as the Seven days of Fire, but the truth is that it is not a war that can ever be won. Even if you win the war against nature you lose. As the story progresses, we see that the plants and fungi that Nausicaä collected from the Sea of Decay are actually trying to purify the soil and water—nature holds no grudges but only seeks balance.

The seventh of the Giant Men, a sentient atomic bomb if you will, apparently hid underground for a thousand years until the kingdom of Pejite found it for use against their enemy, the Tolmekians. They both remain oblivious to the sheer destruction that can be caused by this Giant Man and they don't care either. Despite the balance between humans and nature being a delicate one, instead of trying to rebuild together, they justify to themselves that the war is necessary for self-preservation and to put humans back on top of the food chain.

In their hubris, the Tolmekians and their princess Kushana believe that with the help of their superweapon they can destroy the Sea of Decay despite knowing that it will trigger the wrath of the Ohmus. The Giant Man however is not complete and hence, though the devastation is great, the final giant man dies and all that is remains to be done is to calm the wrath of the Ohmus.

Nausicaä saves an Ohmu child who was injured by Tolmekian soldiers to lure the Ohmus into a war. She saves the baby Ohmu and sacrifices her own life to calm the sea of maddened Ohmus. The now-calm Ohmu then revive Nausicaä, symbolising the mystical healing power of nature and its ability to support and create life.

Nausicaä is an excellent protagonist, and how the trope of the chosen one is utilised is beautiful and full of symbolism. Right from the get-go, we see her being inquisitive and brave. She is willing to defend her people but not through violence. And it is made abundantly clear that her avoidance of violence is not due to any lack of strength; when she strikes down the soldiers who killed her father, rather than feeling any sense of pride (as one might expect from a character not used to strength), it sickens her. She shows understanding even towards Kushana, whose men took over her kingdom. She sincerely loves and respects animals and plants.

There was a prophecy among the people of the valley of wind that a person clad in blue over golden fields will save their kingdom and bring peace. And towards the end of the film, Nausicaä's clothes becoming blue with the blood of the baby Ohmu she saved and the golden fields being the tendrils of the Ohmus healing her is poetic to say the least.

In addition to a good female protagonist, we also get a powerful female antagonist in Kushana, who starts out as a one-note expansionist ruler, but it is revealed that she lost her limbs and got severely maimed by the sea of decay, motivating her to destroy it once and for all. Proud and arrogant, sure, but she has a motive beyond just wanting power and possesses some form of a moral code. In another story she could be the protagonist bravely defending humanity against the evil, alien-esque trilobites and spores.

It was a unique and meaningful choice on Miyazaki's part to symbolise nature through the Ohmus—alien-looking giant insects—instead of something cute and fluffy. Oftentimes humans care more about the conservation of animals that they find cute (pandas over, say, Panamanian golden frogs), but an animal doesn't have to appeal to human aesthetics to be worth conserving.

Absolutely not to be missed is the breathtaking soundtrack by Hisaishi. There are symphonies, techno music, sitar-like instruments and a child's humming, all elevating every scene to give a moving experience.

Ultimately it is an ambitious story that aims to deal with themes of coexisting with nature, the futility and dangers of war, and of how innocent children who should live carefree lives are dragged into it and made heroes. This film is often categorised as falling into the genre of Solarpunk: a literary and artistic movement that centres around building a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community. Although this film does depict violence and wars, it ultimately shows a peaceful future is possible.

Truly a masterpiece. 9/10.

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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K's Master List

Hello there! I'm K and welcome to my side blog!

Minors please do not interact with my blog. I will block you. Blank blogs and ageless blogs have the same protocol. It's nothing personal, just trying to protect myself.

I do not do requests. It has nothing to do with you lovely people. I did requests for a previous fandom I was in and because I'm a natural people pleaser, it just became an unhealthy cycle. So, now I only write what I feel like writing.

Please do not copy or repost (i.e. copy and paste elsewhere - reblogging is a different thing and greatly appreciated) my work. This is the only place that I publish these works.

I don't do a tag list for all works since this side blog is exclusively dedicated to publishing and reblogging my own Top Gun content and an occasional announcement.

I do tag lists for ongoing stories/series. Simply reply to or reblog the work/series and say that you want to be tagged

To be tagged, you must have a reference to your age in your bio. No exceptions. It's nothing personal, but because this blog is 18+ Only, I'd look like a dumbass hypocrite if I tagged ageless blogs. Help me help you and put your age in your bio/pinned post.

Thank you for visiting and I hope you enjoy my works! My actual Master List is below the cut.

Works are separated by character. Characters with more than five posts have a separate master list. Major content warnings (i.e. pregnancy, death, etc.) are provided but please check each work for more specific warnings.

If you see a [*] symbol, it just means that work is more suggestive.

If a work is listed with "OC | Reader," the 'Reader' is biologically related to an established character (i.e. Maverick's daughter).

OC characters might have an established race/appearance, so check the summary/warnings of that work first.

Top Gun

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Handyman - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Summary: When it comes time to give your newborn daughter a bath in the kitchen sink, it conveniently breaks. Fortunately or unfortunately, Maverick is a handyman.

Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

See Separate Master List

Javy "Coyote" Machado

A Walk Down Memory Lane - Bradshaw!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Rooster and Tweety Bradshaw look through their mom’s belongings as Tweety’s wedding to Coyote approaches.

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Come Here - AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have your period. Fanboy takes care of you.

Family Man - GN!Spouse!Reader

Summary: After a long day at work, Fanboy returns home to complete his most important job: taking care of his family.

Robert "Bob" Floyd

See Separate Master List

Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

The Admirals Strike Back - Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)

CW: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader)

Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Bleeding Hearts - Male!Bradshaw!Twin!OC (Braedon)

CW: Hospitals; Exes; Unresolved Feelings; Best Friend's Brother

Summary: After the bird strike, Phoenix's ex, who just so happens to be Rooster's twin brother, comes to check up on her.

Daggers (All 7)

THE FAMILY AFFAIRS COLLECTION >

Mav's Reaction to Each of the Daggers Dating His Daughter - Mitchell!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Maverick finds out that his daughter is dating someone that he knows when she invites her new partner to dinner. And so he makes it his mission to greet them at the door first.

The Daggers and Their (Secret) Kids

CW: Pregnancy, see warnings for additional specific CWs by Dagger (include Reference Character Death, Strained Relationships, Divorce, etc.)

Summary: Headcanons about the families that the seven Daggers could have had going into TGM with, since there's nothing about their families mentioned in the movie.

The Love Game - Fem!Reader (Glitch)

CW: Unrequited Love; Angst; Emotional Angst; One-Sided Relationship; ‘He’s in Love with Someone Else’ Trope

Summary: Glitch has been in love with Hangman for years but he’s getting married to another woman.

A.N. Multiple Pairings: Hangman/Glitch; Hangman/Fem!OC; Glitch /Mystery Dagger

#top gun masterlist #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun x oc #tgm #tgm fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm masterlist #k's masterlist

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cookie-crumblr · 7 months ago

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The Smell of Smoke

F!Reader x Yandere Bully OC

Part 8~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part 1 — Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F! Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, NON CON HARD DRUG USAGE(HEROIN), Hospital setting, fire, murder, blood, car accident, high speed car chase, explicit language, descriptive death scene, fighting

The syringe…

The way it pierced your skin like a thin pick of ice, you yelped and tried to stop him. You pushed and pushed but you are just too weak.

And he’s just too strong.

He holds you down, and covers your mouth so you can’t even scream.

The burning intensity of the drug rushing immediately through your veins when he pushes the plug down.

It feels better than the best sex you’ve ever had.

An all body orgasm, with the intensity cranked up to a million. It’s hot, like magma, but it’s not painful in the least. Even the pin prick has vanished into immense and all encapsulating pleasure.

It’s better than heaven, you’d never feel something so amazing anywhere imaginable, except right here on this debauched planet.

You wet yourself, unable to control your bladder anymore, and your body begins to convulse. You’re puking but you can’t even tell, you’re too consumed by the ecstasy.

You tried your hardest to fight… and this is how you die?

…

He lays you on your side as foam and bile start to spill from the side of your lips.

You’re overdosing.

He’s gonna kill you.

He’s really gonna kill you.

You’ll be free at last… at least.

He won’t be able to hurt you now…

You don’t feel too afraid anymore.

*Beep…*

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeep*

“Code Blue! Code Blue!” You’re hearing people rush all around your body, but you aren’t here.

You’re somewhere floating above.

Somewhere dark, with sickly hands ferrying you somewhere. You can’t see with your eyes, but your mind, the hands are made of the tar that’s in your veins.

When suddenly,

*GASP* *COUGH* There’s something in your throat! It’s helping you breathe but it’s so painful! you cough around the strange intrusion, and feel like your gonna throw up more.

The nurses and doctors rush to un-intubate you, since you can breathe on your own again.

You sit up without thinking your body actually responding properly again, you must’ve at least gotten some rest this time.

The nurses tell you to lay back down as the machines all screech around you.

The first recognizable person you see is Ace.

He’s struggling against the nurses that are holding him away from the door to your room as his eyes are trained, locked in on yours.

No one’s ever fought like that just to make sure you’re okay, and you feel something warm in your chest thrum.

Soon Ezra comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, stopping Ace from actually hurting anyone.

When Ezra faces you, you start to sob, and your body shakes violently.

Everything he’s put you through,

*BEEP BEEP—BEEP BEEP— BEEP BEEP*

“Calm her down! Get those boys away from her!”

They rush around again giving you things in your various tubes connected to your arm.

You want to say no! at least leave Ace… You don’t want to be alone… You don’t want Ezra to come back without him.

But your throat is hoarse and you can’t speak through the shivers.

You fall back unconscious.

When you come to, Ezra is waiting. His arm is bandaged, and he’s smoking in your hospital room. You go to press the call button…

When your shaking fingers are almost there,

he grabs your wrist tight.

You choke out a sob, you want desperately to keep fighting, but how much more can you actually take.

He removes your blanket from your thigh and puts out his cigarette on your non-broken, non branded leg.

You hiss, the pain becoming far too familiar for your liking.

“You’re getting better at taking what I give you,” he smirks.

“H-how…” You speak without stopping yourself, You don’t even recognize your own voice as it’s so hoarse.“How are you still smiling…?” It’s horrific. All that he’s done to you.

Really, truly, horrific. And he just,

isn’t done.

He’ll never be done,

and that realization is setting in fully now.

He’s never going to stop, until he actually kills you.

His smile only grows with your realization.

Soon he’s checking you out saying that someone at a party shot you up, and taking your limping form to his BMW then shoving you into the back.

You claw at your head and collapse into yourself.

This can’t keep going on! You can’t take anymore! you really are about to break…

Your mind is shattering and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When your about to give in, you see Ace speeding up behind you… He’s in his own car and he’s catching up to you both.

He pulls up beside Ezra, and Ezra speeds up, trying to pass his younger brother.

You’re shaking in the backseat and you buckle yourself in, just in case you crash.

Ace is focused on driving but the way he looked at the black tinted back windows, as if he could see you. Your heart flip flopped. No! You think… If you have hope it’ll only hurt you more when it also shatters…

You don’t know what to do or what to think when you feel the car lurch and a sound of plastics crunching.

Your in the middle seat but the car door next to you crunches inward, you scream! the whole car spins violently before Ezra regains control.

It’s Ace you know it is, but it’s so scary!

Ezra’s driving like a maniac and his brother is too, they’re now trying to run eachother off the road.

You see a wearhouse coming up on the horizon with billowing smoke stacks that look like cigarettes puffing black smog into the blue sky.

Right before the car is in the air, upside down, and squealing, and the smell of burnt rubber and plastics assaults your senses.

You’re glad when all the motion stops, that you put your seat belt on.

Ezra hit his head! He’s unconscious!! You reach next to him and unlock your door, rushing, you’re able to get out and you go to Ace’s upside down, smoking, car. There’s blood covering his face, and soaking his pink hair, making it a deep crimson.

You use your elbow and smash the window without thinking. You must have strength from all the adrenaline rushing through you, cause it shatters.

You use your shirt to get rid of the cubed shards of glass, and are able to unbuckle him and pull him out.

you try your best to leave him the way he was and listen for his heart, and if he’s breathing.

You have a flashback to something you’ve seen before about the song “stayin alive” and how it matches the pulsing motion you need to preform.

His body is silent, and you start chest compressions.

There’s no sound, just the song in your head and your ragged breathing as you put your whole weight down into his chest over and over again.

soon enough Ace gasps, coughing and spitting, and the sound finally comes in. Birds and insects buzz alighting the atmosphere with even more excitement and commotion. the cars groan and crackle with their embers.

Ace reaches up to your face. his bloodshot eyes move from yours to behind you, and he jumps up and throws you behind him. You land roughly on your casted leg and yelp, finally remembering that it is still broken.

Ace shouts, “Ezra!!! ENOUGH!!!” Ezra has a cigarette in his mouth already, and blood all over him matching Ace.

One of them is dying tonight.

You can see this fact now.

“Ezra!! Stop!” You yell and grab Ace’s hand pulling him with you. Through a tall grassy field you run. As you’re trying to run to those smoke stacks in the near distance you feel yourself float for a second, thinking you’re falling you brace, but find that Ace scooped you up, to run with you in his arms.

He saw where you were heading and follows your instinct.

You use this opportunity to look over Ace’s should at Ezra chasing you both. He’s gaining on you.

Ace makes it with you in his arms to the factory and finds a rusted, paint chipped side door, he squeezes you both through, and then rushes through piles of scrap and steel beams, and ginormous vats of whatever.

There’s sunlight barely streaming through the dusty windows that line the top of the room.

But…

There’s no people here!

Nobody to help!

Fuck! what do you do!

Ace puts you down behind a pile of various materials and covers his lip with his finger letting you know to be silent.

You shake your head no! don’t leave me!! please! don’t go Ace! You scream in your own skull.

but he’s running off, going to meet with his brother and end this in a building that smells like smoke.

Your feelings are rushing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and you glance at everything around you, you finally get an idea.

It’s a horrendous idea that could go horribly wrong… But you intend to finish this first.

These vats, they’re bubbling and there’s wooden beams and a wooden second layer, maybe you could get Ezra’s lighter and start a fire…

There’s levers on the sides of them that open up, as long as the carts aren’t underneath the opening to collect the substance, you could cover this whole floor with whatever’s in there. You start to push the carts out of the way, they’re heavy and they squeal rustily as the roll on the tracks.

You won’t go down without a fight. You aren’t about to let an innocent person die for you.

Once again you steel your frazzled nerves.

Now to find Ezra before Ace does and bait him here.

You bolt, ignoring the pain in your leg, and even though your movement is hindered you push through moving fast!

You can do this!

You round a corner and full body into the man you’re looking for. He stares down at you smirking, before he grabs you by the arms, and you panic momentarily before remembering that this is exactly what you needed.

you have to get that lighter, or….

The cigarette in his mouth. You use your good leg to kick the bone of his ankle. he doubles over in sudden pain, and confusion strikes him as you yank the cigarette from his lips. His confusion makes you able to worm yourself free from his grasp!

he’s faster than you, but walks to chase after you. Hah!

He doesn’t know you have a plan!

You can do this! You really can!

“Y/N~” He laughs, “You’re not gettin’ away from me, jus’ stop fightin’ and give in already, would’ya,”

He stalks after you, not even a little suspicious of why you took his cig.

You run back around the corner and down the dingy halls and up a few metal stairs up to the vats and pull the vat lever, it’s so heavy you use your full weight to actually push down all the way and get it to…

*chur-CHUNK* the ground rumbles as Black bubbling liquid pours out all over the cement, and around the beams, you’re on a metal platform above it thankfully.

“EZRAAAAAA!” You scream, ready to end this.

His brow furrows as your eyes meet his, and you toss the cigarette onto the tar, igniting the whole floor.

*FWOOSH* The flames take to the liquid instantly, you cover you nose with the baggy hospital clothes as oxygen is whipped past you and sucked to the blaze.

Ezra is just outside of the spill and the fire, he thinks you’ve failed as he’s smirking sinisterly, he doesn’t notice the wooden platform above him.

You start pulling smaller levers on the control panel and hitting buttons in a frenzy trying to find anything that could help, and fast!

No! You see the shadow of another man through the fire!

“ACEE!!!!!” The weakened wooden beams crash in on themselves and the floor collapses down lighting on fire as they fall. Ashes and smoke fill the mostly closed building.

You cough and look over the flames.

Ezra is still smiling at you, but it’s different now. He doesn’t even notice his brother in peril!

You have to save Ace! the building is going up in flames now, and you’re running out of time.

If he’s even alive!

More beams and supports fall before you, creating an opening. You move without thinking.

Your lungs burn and the fire licks at your skin through your clothes.

Sirens can be heard in the distance finally.

You’re going to get out of this! you are!

But it’ll be for nothing if Ezra exits this wearhouse too.

First you have to make it to Ace.

He’s under a fallen beam over his upper body!

You don’t even think about it you just start to lift it with inhuman strength. Ace is able to crawl out, he’s coughing badly from the smoke though, and probably has a collapsed lung! Gods!

Ezra grabs you from behind and starts pulling you with him into the roaring flames. Your cast feels hot!!

You swing your broken leg around like a dead weight and land the hard cast right into his knee, causing him to buckle down.

You push him into the fire and tar.

The embers take to him fast, and the last thing you see of Ezra, is his smiling face as his skin turns pitch black, peels, and evaporates off his bone. New ashes rise and you cover your nose harder, not wanting a single bit of him inside you ever again.

He looked oddly… At peace.

The firefighters get you and Ace out. They can do little for the building, but you couldn’t care less.

No one suspects either of you of anything. Just a freak accident and some young 20 somethings exploring buildings they shouldn’t.

No one asked why the tar spilled. So you didn’t say.

The building was apparently insured quite well so they got more money than it was worth and didn’t need to be concerned.

They were more concerned about the car crash and why you were in a high speed chase.

But after the culprit’s charred body was recovered they saw no need to investigate further with his previous record collaborating your story. Although you told the truth you omitted that Ace actually started it.

Thankfully, he did too.

You watch Ezra’s body being moved from the wearhouse to the ambulance in a black body bag. He’s really dead.

You allow yourself a final sigh of relief, as the oxygen pump cycles through your lungs with Ace by your side.

note from cookie: wowie! this one was different from usual, i hope you all enjoyed! i had a lot of fun writing it and finally this bastard got what he deserved!!!

Special thanks to @kawaiikitty67 and @valyalyon for the ideas and inspiration!! tysm for the help!!!!! I needed it! i was in an inspirational rut for a while T.T <3

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isa-ghost · 2 months ago

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INLTBH Crumbs & Phil Headcanons!

For anyone confused, INLTBH stands for I Never Left The Birdhouse, it's the new angst fic I'm working on! :D Here's the premise, but it's been developed even more now.

I'm trying to keep a handful of things secret for the moment, because my goal is for people to have fun theorizing and pointing out hints that Phil is a ghost, since I'll be sprinkling many of them in the chapters. Eventually, I'll post somewhere all of the hints I included.

I'm really wishing the inspiration for the fic didn't START with the idea of Phil being dead because that would've been a bomb ass reveal, but unfortunately the concept of "what if he died in there" is what started this whole thing, so I'm compensating by keeping the signs he's a ghost, and HOW he died a secret instead. And other stuff.

But here's what I feel confident sharing about Phil!

I'm very autistic about the paranormal and ghost hunting, so I'll be using my knowledge about it to characterize Phil and his behavior! :D Unfortunately a lot of that pertains to the signs he's a ghost that I said I was keeping secret soooo you'll have to wait for that infodumping later!

I'll give a freebie ghost hint: Sometimes you can detect the presence of a spirit or demon because there will be a strong smell in the air. Common ones include roses and sulfur. I've given Phil the scent of roses & smoke, as a nod to wither roses, given that he's the Angel of Death!

He doesn't know what happened to him, all he remembers is the canon lore, aka the initial luring to the Birdhouse and then being trapped inside & abandoned by Cucurucho.

I'm taking the derealization we didn't get a ton of elaboration on and fucking RUNNING. Unrested spirits WOOOOO.

Missa doesn't realize he's dead at first because he can still touch and interact with Phil as usual. Reapers can physically interact with the dead, whereas the living cannot. :')

As for INLTBH in general, here's what I will share:

Missa, Fit, Pac, and Foolish are DEFINITELY involved. BBH will probably have a cameo.

I have 5 chapters planned so far, hopefully it won't be more than 10 when the whole thing is done.

Some CWs include: major character death (bc, yknow, Phil's dead), descriptions of a corpse/death, vomit, and derealization.

The Federation is conducting... business as usual. (derogatory)

ALSO, multiple people have already asked me for songs I'm going to reference or muse to while working on the fic, so here's what I've got so far:

OBVIOUSLY I'm using WYOYL, it's THE Birdhouse song.

Echo is very fitting for the ghost/derealization themes, and some lyrics will be chapter titles!

Floating Dream & An Ordinary Day are also canon Phil lore songs that are related to Phil's derealization (and EK/Rose but that's irrelevant here)

Circles & Secret Garden's lyrics are pure Ghostza pain. :)

Carousel's chorus is primarily what's doing it for me here, but even if it isn't a perfect fit, it's a fucking BANGER and this is a good excuse to share it.

Metronome's lyrics are INLTBH Deathduo :')

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #philza lore #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp fanfic #INLTBH things

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 3 months ago

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TBB Mini Retrospective

After my first official rewatch of the entire show, TBB is still one of the best things Star Wars has ever created imo. I LOVE TBB and it's easily one of my favorite piece of media. Alongside CW and Rebels, it's my favorite thing from SW. Tbf, I've always loved the animated shows more than the live-action stuff. I still love the movies, but the animated shows always seem to hit me just right in the feels.

When I look back, there are so many episodes I have a deeper appreciation for and there is literally no filler. Every episode serves a purpose. While the content might not be as exciting as any episode where Cross shows up, there is still a reason for its existence. "Metamorphosis" is definitely one of my personal favorites on rewatch. I honestly think looking at the first two seasons now vs back then makes them more enjoyable for me. It's nice to catch the little references, musical leitmotifs, and rest assured knowing that Crosshair will be ok.

Speaking of the characters, this rewatch has made me love them even more. I love the Batch so so much and I will never stop saying that. Crosshair is singlehandedly (no pun intended) one of the greatest SW characters ever in recent years. He has a beautifully realized redemption arc and I'm forever thankful for it. Seeing Omega grow up from a tiny munchkin to a lovely young woman also hits my feels. And Tech. I miss him so much. I had much deeper appreciation for Echo's journey as well and I wish we got more of it. Wrecker is ever the gentle giant and I admit I've gotten along better with Hunter than in previous rewatches of the first two seasons (this was prior to S3's release).

Overall, TBB still stands strong. Compared to Rebels and CW, it's much more serialized but I don't think that's a bad thing. There is a lot of story being told and I wish we got more time to delve into it. I loved exploring how the galaxy changed post Order 66. I loved seeing old and new faces. I loved learning more about the clones' story. I loved the music and animation. Most importantly, I just loved being CF99. They have a fun dynamic and they will always be my fave SW family.

The one major, glaring flaw with this show, however, is how Tech's death was handled. I still have no words, only tears, and I hope the Domestic Batch held a memorial for him off-screen after the finale. This show has other flaws, but this one stands out to me the most and has the biggest impact on my viewing.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech

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gabessquishytum · 7 months ago

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Hi, everyone! Gabe/Leo here. Welcome to my new pinned post. You'll find lots of info here, including a new tag library curated by @seiya-starsniper which should help you filter (or follow) particular bits of content. This post will be updated from time to time and will also tell you whether my inbox is open or not <3

For reference, my inbox is currently OPEN.

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

Since you've found yourself on my blog, please note that a lot of my content is not safe for work! I am over 18, and if you're on my blog, you should be too! Content rated over 18 will also be tagged as #nsft

Here on my blog, people like to send me asks with scenarios, prompts or fic ideas that they have had, and I take a bit of time each day to respond with my own “yes, and” - collaborating with the original asker to make a small piece of fandom content. Sometimes other people are inspired by this and write their own fics based on the posts! It's a lovely collaborative space where all are welcome - including those who wish to stay anonymous.

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

I am primarily focused on dreamling! But I also love to write other ships in the fandom. The tags I use for ships are:

#corintheus

#dreamling

#hoblethros

#hobrinthian

#hobrintheus

#hobstruction

#immortal throuple

#hob x everyone

#hob x lucifer

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

The general tags that I use for sandman/writing content are as follows:

#dream of the endless

#ferdinand kingsley

#fic recs

#hob gadling

#horny q

#meowpheus

#my writing

#nsft

#the sandman

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

I also have some specific alternate universes which you can find or filter out with these tags:

#ace dream

#ace hob

#ballet au

#bdsm au

#bratty dream

#bratty hob

#disabled dreamling

#dreamling gender swap

#catboys

#chef hob

#cow hob

#fantasy au

#fat hob

#fem dream

#fem hob

#mafia au

#mob au

#sugar daddy au

#the addams family

#trans dream

#trans hob

#vampire au

#werewolf au

#warprize au

#warprize hob

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

For more of your tag filtering or searching needs, the following is a list of content warning tags that I will strive to use consistently. This list will be updated depending on what comes up in the future:

#dead dove do not eat

#cw age gap

#cw age regression

#cw agrere

#cw alcohol or #cw intox

#cw attempted murder

#cw birth

#cw biting

#cw blackmail

#cw blood

#cw body modification

#cw body mutilation

#cw breeding

#cw child abuse

#cw cheating

#cw choking

#cw christmas

#cw cnc

#cw cucking

#cw daddy kink

#cw dark content

#cw death

#cw dermatillomania

#cw diaper

#cw disordered eating

#cw domestic control

#cw dubcon or #cw dubious consent

#cw drugging or #cw drugs

#cw exhibitionism

#cw feederism or #cw feeding kink

#cw findom or #cw financial domination

#cw food

#cw food issues

#cw free use

#cw genitalia

#cw grief

#cw guns

#cw homelessness

#cw humiliation

#cw hunger

#cw hybrids

#cw infertility

#cw infidelity

#cw internalized homophobia

#cw kidnapping

#cw lactation

#cw major character death

#cw malnourishment

#cw manipulation

#cw medical

#cw memory loss

#cw menstruation

#cw mental health

#cw monsterfucking

#cw mpreg

#cw murder

#cw noncon

#cw object insertion

#cw objectification

#cw omegaverse

#cw omo

#cw overstim

#cw oviposition

#cw parent death or #cw patricide

#cw pain

#cw physical abuse

#cw piss

#cw pregnancy

#cw prostitution

#cw rough kink

#cw rough sex

#cw s&m

#cw scars

#cw scat

#cw self harm

#cw sex addiction

#cw sex pollen

#cw sex work

#cw sexual harassment

#cw sleep paralysis

#cw somnophilia

#cw spiking

#cw stalking

#cw suicide

#cw sui mention

#cw stockholm syndrome

#cw teacher x student or #cw teacher/student

#cw tentacles

#cw threats

#cw toxic relationship

#cw transphobia

#cw violence

#cw vomit

#cw voyeurism

#cw watersports

#cw weight

#cw wetting

#cw yandere

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

Finally, some of my anons like to identify themselves with emojis! This isn't mandatory at all. But here's a list of anons who have emoji-fied themselves (please note this may not be a complete list):

#yan anon

#🐈‍⬛ anon

#🍃 anon

#🦇 anon

#💳 anon

#🦊 anon

#🧀 anon

#🚒 anon

#🔪 anon

#💄 anon

#🌳 anon

#🎮 anon

#💍 anon

#🦒 anon

#🌘 anon

#🎸 anon

#🦎 anon

#🪽anon

#🍓 anon

#🤜 anon

#🐙 anon

#🐉 anon

#💎 anon

#🎭 anon

#🌛 anon

#🌻 anon

#🎉 anon

#❄️ anon

#🍐 anon

#🍭 anon

#🦋 anon

#🤰anon

#🖋 anon

#🏵 anon

#🦩anon

#🪐 anon

#🦄 anon

#💥 anon

#🍰🐲 anon

#☂️ anon

#👠 anon

࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛۶𖹭ৎ࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛࿙⃛࿚⃛

Thank you for reading, I hope you have a lovely day! ❤️

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forwhump · 25 days ago

Text

Obedience Training

a/n; me again 😛 back w some random acts of sexual violence because I found this drabble while I was looking for a completely different drabble and you know what ??? a banger’s a banger

I didn’t exactly reinvent the wheel w this one but torture is torture & torture is FUN, yes ???

word count: 3k (sorry !!!!)

tw/cw: transphobia, misgendering, sexual violence, rape, noncon, psychological torture, emotional torture, humiliation, dehumanization, captivity, sexual slavery, threats of incest, mentions of major character death (he doesn’t stay dead tho it’s a whole thing), racism, references to previous disfigurement

mentions of living weapon whumpee, creepy whumper, point’s daddy kink makes a reappearance in this one

Things change after Silas almost gets them out.

Nothing changes for the better.

Restrictions are tighter, inspections more frequent. Silas doesn’t come back to the unit, and in his absence, Point gets more brave.

Point talks a lot to Wren, more than Wren is comfortable with, and almost as much as Point talks, he talks, in some form, about Silas. Still, Wren hasn’t even come close to understanding the complexities of Point’s feelings for him. In Silas’ absence, yes, he’s brave, but he’s giddy, too, in a frantic, frightening sort of way.

He’s grinning as he grabs Wren by the braid and pulls him off the couch, to the ground, to the solid concrete of the common room floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wren cries, then the rock is cold against his cheek and the bottom of Point’s boot is a firm pressure against the side of his head. “What are you doing? Get off me!”

“Hey!” June shouts, and the commotion is just starting to rise but the crack of gunfire still feels like it comes out of nowhere.

“We’re not playing around today,” Point announces from somewhere high above him, but the manic grin is obvious in his voice. “There’s a lesson to be learned here. I’m making an example of you, cowgirl.”

“What the hell is going on?” Hal yells. It’s followed quickly by the sound of impact, something dull, something that has Wren wincing against the concrete and that makes Hal shout out loud.

“What are you doing?” Wren cries again, and Point’s boot leaves the side of his face just long enough for him to drape his weight across Wren’s back. His men, his favourites, stand in the common room among moldy chairs and disintegrating loveseats, guns aimed at the rest of the unit. Blood is seeping through the bandages stretched across Hal’s eyes. There’s a smoking bullet hole in one arm of the couch.

“You people,” Point says, too close to Wren’s ear, “keep forgetting who makes the rules around here. And it’s getting to become a problem for me.” He presses an unwelcome kiss to the side of Wren’s face, and there’s a quick, metallic sort of sound, a blade being drawn, and Point’s weight eases off his back. With a hand, too hard, on Wren’s hip, he turns him onto his back and the tip of Point’s long, lethal buck knife finds the sensitive skin of Wren’s throat.

“What are you doing?” Wren breathes, and he wishes his voice weren’t so small.

How do you do it?, he’d asked Silas once, when he still had a Silas to ask. He’d been like a statue, not only in stature but in the cool, unbreakable marble of his face. Wren had gotten a lot better at translating Silas’ long, flat stares, but that was only after years of exposure and of falling in love with him. Sometimes, still, Wren couldn’t tell. He’d look up at him, at the impenetrable mask of Silas’ face, and Wren would have no idea what was going on beneath the surface.

Wren wasn’t so lucky. Wren was still so human, Wren was only human, and it has never been a benefit for him. He wears his emotions on his sleeve and very clearly on his face, no matter how much he might not want to. When he’s scared, it’s obvious he’s scared. If he’s in pain, even more. And Point likes him scared. Point likes him in pain. Wren never wants to give him the satisfaction, but he just can’t help it, despite how desperately he might try. As much as he fights, and spits, and snarls, he’s scared, he’s always scared, and the dam always breaks, and he always cries. He always begs. It never matters.

He’d looked at Silas, at his indifferent, impenetrable Silas, who’d been sitting, still as a statue, head in Wren’s lap, as Wren had painstakingly helped him remove the last of the stitches from the inside of his empty eye socket. At no Point did Silas complain. At no Point did his face even change. He just lied there, obedient, watching Wren with his other eye.

Do what? Silas asked. Like the rest of him, his voice is always cool, indifferent. He never spoke with a lot of inflection that wasn’t some category of rage. Silas has tells, though, an imperfect poker face, and the beat of Silas between Wren asking and Silas answering meant he wasn’t listening, that he was just parroting. It’s like Silas would get lost sometimes, staring at him, and he always did it with a sort of intensity that made Wren blush. Like everything else he’s ever felt, he couldn’t hide it if he wanted to.

There’s obviously a lot of things Wren feels for Silas, some more complex than others, some bigger and more consuming every day. Jealousy isn’t one of the bigger ones, and it isn’t consuming, it isn’t bitter, but it’s there in how desperately Wren wishes he could do what Silas does. He wishes he could put on a brave face, too.

How are you always so…brave? Wren had asked. How are you not scared?

Silas had looked up at him like he was an idiot, one of the only open expressions he ever freely used. I’m scared all the time.

Wren’s scared. He thinks of Silas, of his cool, marble face, and that bravery seems farther than ever from Wren’s grasp in his absence. His hands are already shaking, and he knows what comes next. He knows, too well, what comes next, and he’s just as scared as he remembers being that very first time.

I just don’t let it stop me, he’d said. Being scared doesn’t do me any good. Wren wishes it could be so simple. He wishes Silas were here.

With a flourish, Point flips the knife over in his hand. “That was a really sweet thing the dog tried to do for you, sugar,” he says, with the saccharine, mocking twang of Wren’s accent. “Unfortunately,” and he takes the edge of the blade to the collar of Wren’s sweatshirt, “you both seem to keep forgetting that you belong to me.”

He cuts open Wren’s sweatshirt with a single, fluid motion. Wren gasps, tries to push him away, slices open his fingers for his efforts and Point holds the knife between his teeth as he gathers Wren’s bleeding hands to tie his wrists with a strip of prison grey sweatshirt. Wren jerks, tries to pull his hands away, to pull himself free — “stop! Stop!” — but Point flashes him a grin around the shining blade of his knife as he ties Wren’s wrists together so tightly he loses all the feeling in his fingertips.

“Not the dog,” Point says once Wren’s bound and the knife’s in his hands again. He takes the blade to Wren’s waistband and Wren’s blood starts coursing cold. “Not even you. Me.”

“No,” Wren pleads, “don’t, please,” and his face burns as he turns it away and Point slices off his prison greys in dramatic strips of cloth. He’s careful not to cut any of the flesh beneath, but the gentle brush of his gloved fingertips is even worse than if he had.

“Get off him!” June cries, and Wren can’t bring himself to open his eyes but he recognizes the fleshy sound of impact as she’s hit.

“Today’s lesson is in obedience,” Point announces loudly, over the wet, breathless sound June makes in the aftermath. “I have obviously been lacking in your obedience training. I have been too lenient with you. That ends today.” When he takes Wren by the jaw, too hard, he’d removed his gloves, and his touch is too warm, it’s too human. It breaks the dam. Tears spill. “C’mon, pretty girl,” he coos. “Eyes on me.”

Wren’s chest hitches as he sobs. If ever there was a time to brave it would be now, on the floor of the common room, with the rest of his unit all present and accounted for. He’s always been different from the rest of them, even outside all the glaring, obvious differences; he’s the soft, fragile, human one. Wren’s weak and breakable. He doesn’t need to be scared, too. He shouldn’t also be a coward.

But he is. He is. He’s scared and he can’t even bring himself to be angry about it, not yet; for the time being, his tied hands tremble and Point blurs beyond his tears.

“Not here,” he sobs, soft, weak. “Please. Don’t do this here.”

“Nah,” Point says, and eases Wren’s thighs apart with his other, uncomfortably human hand. The ground is cold, rough concrete at Wren’s back, biting too hard into either of his shoulder blades and still, the touch is preferable to Point’s soft, fleshy skin. “I want them to see how good you take it.”

Wren sobs.

Robin shouts, something strained and unintelligible, something that sounds like the effort must hurt.

Hal cries, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you always doing weird shit?”

Point’s head snaps up so quickly there isn’t anything human in it at all. He looks at Hal for so long without speaking that it makes even Wren squirm beneath him. “This is a lesson in obedience,” he says finally, too loud, “just as much as this is a reminder that I fuckin’ own you people. I can, and will, do whatever. The fuck. I want. The dog has given you all this false sense of fuckin’ security,” and just like it always does when he’s talking about Silas, his tone starts to sharpen into something both deranged and almost too aware, “but it’s bullshit. I own you. Just look at you. Not as tough when it isn’t here, are you?”

His tone doesn’t change but he grins, too wide. “No,” he says, “you’re not. Not one of you is gonna do anything to stop me. You’re gonna stand right where you are, and you’re gonna watch how well the girl takes my cock. Then Vineyard’s. Then London’s. Then Thirteen’s. Hell, maybe the brother’s, too,” he adds, venomous, “just because I can get her to take it. And because if any of you so much as look away before I tell you to, I will fuckin’ kill you. It will be so messy it will put every one of that dog’s deaths to shame. And you’re cowards, right, aren’t you? All of you. You don’t want to die. None of you are brave without that fuckin’ dog.”

He angles his head to look down at Wren again, and he looks at him too closely. He grins as he pushes one of Wren’s thighs up towards his chest, making it look easy despite how desperately Wren tries to close his legs. “Nobody will ever care about you the way that dog cared about you,” he says, and he says it like he’s delighted. “Pathetic, isn’t it? It was willing to die for you, time and time again. Your friends,” he reminds him, “are just gonna watch. They aren’t gonna stop me, and they aren’t gonna save you. They’re gonna watch me fuck you. Isn’t that sad?”

“Don’t,” Wren pleads, and it’s pathetic how his voice breaks with it. “Please. Don’t —“

“I’m the one in charge here, cowgirl,” Point drawls. “You’ll take whatever I give you.” There’s something dangerous in his smile, and his fingernails bite into Wren’s skin as he holds his legs open, too open, too exposed. He sobs, and his back arches off the concrete with the force of it. “I want them to see how wet you get for me,” he says slowly, eyes locked somewhere between Wren’s thighs. “I want them to hear how pretty you sound when you cry for me. I want,” he says, and takes Wren’s bound hands, pressing them to the bulge of Point’s uniform, under his belt, “you to remember who you belong to. I want you to remember who your cunt belongs to, and it isn’t you. It isn’t that fuckin’ dog.”

Wren sobs. His hands are shaking so hard he would swear he can feel the bones in his wrists grinding together. The concrete is so cold against his back but there’s heat pulsing in his face, throbbing beneath his skin, and he’s so cold he’s shaking with it but the heat of the embarrassment is turned up so high he’s burning up, too, he’s feverish with it. His tears are both too hot and too cold on his skin. “Please —”

“That’s it,” Point coos, and he uses Wren’s bound hands to open his zipper. “Beg for me, sugar.”

Robin makes another tight, strained sound, an outraged sort of gurgle, and the flurry of gunfire that follows is so loud and so sudden Wren’s ears ring in the aftermath. He turns his face quickly, and Robin’s not dead. He’s on his knees, hands behind his head, but he wasn’t shot. He isn’t dead. Wren exhales so hard it feels like his chest deflates. Despite his best attempts, he sobs with it.

“I told you,” Point says, a little more lethal, “we aren’t playing around here anymore.” He waits until Wren looks back up at him to grin. “It was a very sweet thing your dog did,” he says again, “and it was really fuckin’ stupid. You have it to thank for this.”

“Please,” Wren breathes, and he wishes he were above begging, he wishes he was stronger than this, but he isn’t, and Point’s right. Not about the rest of them — Wren doesn’t blame them. But he’s right about Wren, at least, for sure — Wren’s never been very brave, but he isn’t brave at all without Silas. “Please. Please, don’t —”

Point grins a little wider as he uses Wren’s hands to pull himself free from his pants. “What do you say?”

The heat worsens in Wren’s face and he can taste his heartbeat. “No,” he breathes.

“Yes,” he coos. “Don’t be shy, now. Be a good girl. What do you say?” Wren starts to shake his head but Point grabs him by the jaw. “Say it.”

“No,” Wren breathes.

Point spits in his face. “Say it,” he warns, “or I’m gonna make your brother fuck you and I’m gonna wait till he’s inside you to blow his fuckin’ brains out. Say it.” Wren’s teeth ache from how hard he clenches them. Point’s grin is waiting, mock patient, as he uses Wren’s hands to line himself up without looking away from his face, too intense. “C’mon, cowgirl,” he coos. “You can do better than that. Be good for me, now.”

Wren’s ears are ringing and his skin is too hot and the floor is too cold beneath him and Point’s touch is too human. “Daddy,” he whispers, and Point answers him with a kiss that nearly breaks his front teeth. He swallows Wren’s scream as he pushes inside him.

“Come on,” Hal protests loudly, and Point licks a stripe along Wren’s cheekbone as he turns his face to look up at him.

“I’m not gonna let you play with her before you go,” he says, conversational, as he pins Wren to the concrete with a hand low on his stomach, as he fucks him with a force that rips open his lower back against the concrete, “because I have a strict no Hindus rule, but I will still blow your fuckin’ brains out. Shut your fuckin’ mouth and watch.” But it makes him laugh, and he adds, “I guess you can’t watch, can you?”, and he laughs again, looking down at Wren. “For the benefit of our blind audience,” he tells him, “you’re gonna have to be a bit louder, sugar. Say it again.”

“Please,” Wren chokes out.

He clucks his tongue. “That’s not what I want you to say.”

Wren sobs, a broken sort of sound he can barely manage around the tightness in his chest. It hurts. Everything hurts. “Daddy,” he breathes again.

This time Point groans, a low rumble of a sound that makes Wren’s skin crawl, that makes his stomach turn. “Baby,” he croons softly.

“Oh, god,” June says, disgusted, and she doesn’t say it very loudly but Point looks at her, anyway.

“Another word out of you,” he warns, “and I’ll blow the Hindu’s fuckin’ brains out.”

“You’re fucked,” Hal says.

There’s something very, obviously, intrinsically wrong with Point, and the only thing he takes worse to than Silas is being told that there’s something really, deeply wrong with him. His skin is deceptively soft but there’s nothing human about him at all, even less human than Silas. The look on his face is a look Wren has never seen on a human being, never seen anywhere beyond wild, violent animals.

“If threats of violence aren’t going to work to keep you people in line,” he says to the room at large, not looking away from Wren, “then we will be moving on. If acts of violence are what it takes to keep you obedient, then acting on violence we will be. The girl will pay for your insolence, since your own lives seem to be so worthless to you.” He smiles, slow and wide, grotesque in its spread across his face. “Isn’t that right, sugar?”

“Yes, daddy,” he whispers.

Point pats his cheek twice. “You might wanna hold on to me,” he warns, his grin even more grotesque. “You won’t be walking when I’m done with you.”

“Please,” Wren whispers.

“Please, what?”

“Please, daddy,” he tries, and his voice breaks, and he doesn’t hear Point laugh but he can feel the rumble of it against his chest, pressed flush against Point’s uniform. It’s rough against his chest, the insides of his thighs.

“Nah,” he says, and grins again. “It’s time to ride ‘em, cowgirl. Hold on tight.”

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