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suwya · 4 years ago

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

~·~·~·~

Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

~·~·~·~

Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

~·~·~·~

Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

~·~·~·~

The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

~·~·~·~

If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?�� She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

~·~·~·~

Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe #science fiction #space au #my writing

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komori--shoma · 4 years ago

Text

Shoma Umi Komori.

🦢

(I'm sorry if my english is shitty-)

❛A sad soul can kill faster than bacteria.❜

—𝐽𝑜𝒉𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘

⟅☙⟆ Universe ⟅☙⟆

Diabolik Lovers. I plan, however, to take her out of the universe and make her a character of her own. Or maybe I'll just drop it and do both. Who knows?

⟅☙⟆ Full Name ⟅☙⟆

Shoma Umi Komori.

"Shoma" is a Japanese name that means "Woman who seeks the truth, who is not conformist at all." Her second name, "Umi", is also a Japanese name that means "ocean".

⟅☙⟆ Kanji ⟅☙⟆

ショマ

⟅☙⟆ Nickname ⟅☙⟆

Despite being initially confused by these, as she was not used to it, she was given the nickname "Engel" (which means "Angel" in German) by a family quite close to her. The nickname was given by the mother and head of the family, since in the eyes of that woman, Shoma is an angel.

Seiji, who was the adoptive father of the girl, called the young woman "Astertea", which is quite a "peculiar" name in the bible.

Yui, with whom she is no longer in contact with Shoma, used to call her "Sho" or "Shomi" affectionately.

⟅☙⟆ Age ⟅☙⟆

She is eighteen years old, although she looks a bit younger.

⟅☙⟆ Gender ⟅☙⟆

Feminine.

⟅☙⟆ Sexual Orientation ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't know yet. Doesn't really bothers her to know.

⟅☙⟆ Height ⟅☙⟆

160 cm.

⟅☙⟆ Weight ⟅☙⟆

She used to weigh 35 kg., But now she is a proud 64.5 kg.

⟅☙⟆ Blood type ⟅☙⟆

OR-

⟅☙⟆ Status ⟅☙⟆

Alive.

⟅☙⟆ Race ⟅☙⟆

Human

⟅☙⟆ Birthday ⟅☙⟆

June 20th.

⟅☙⟆ Sign ⟅☙⟆

Gemini.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Color ⟅☙⟆

Light blue and night blue.

⟅☙⟆ Appearance ⟅☙⟆

There is a great before and after in her appearance, and even though she is not shown in her story (at the end of the card), there was the occasional change in her future.

The girl has oculocutaneous albinism, so her skin and hair are snow-white. Her hair, due to a small "situation", was long, straight and lifeless. Her hair almost touched her waist, and she basically managed to cover her view. She is now a cute short hairstyle down to the nape of hers, wavy and neat.

Her skin is very pale and fragile, although now she is somewhat better, before she was simply rough and damaged. She has several deep burns and scars on this one as well.

The young woman, despite not having very good eyesight, has beautiful eyes of a light blue color, somewhat grayish.

She has a mark on her right leg in the shape of a fox with several stars on it. It's a pretty special symbol, but she keeps it covered most of the time.

She usually did not wear clothes other than bandages to cover herself, although she still finds old clothes to wear, even though she was a little too big. Now, she got used to wearing light clothes that cover most of her body; like jeans, leggings, or long dresses with something underneath. She doesn't really like to wear short or see-through clothes.

⟅☙⟆ Personality ⟅☙⟆

Many think that she simply doesn't have any kind of emotion. Shoma never shows any kind of expression in public, she is shown with her face up and with a look so cold that she makes it true to her appearance. The young woman is too serious, and depending on the person, it is very difficult to get her out of her typical attitude.

Sho is an elegant little girl, and full of grace despite all her troubles. She will never be friendly enough in front of someone (again, it depends on the person), but she will also not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome unless that is the goal of the little one. Shoma knows that she is able to erase someone from the earth fas if she wishes, but she doesn't abuse that thought, you just have to be careful not to make her angry or touch her too much. It could be a big mistake.

Still, well ...

She is always alert, so it is very easy for her to get nervous or anxious most of the time.

She can also happen that she cannot do something right (she finds it very difficult to concentrate / think on several occasions, as well as sometimes she finds it difficult to understand what happens around her, etc). Still, it is something that doesn't happen as much as before, after leaving the aforementioned situation in which she found herself.

She is easily frustrated, and this happens when she recognizes that she has trouble thinking. It's very easy for her to cry or tear up in frustration (she doesn't do it in public, she refuses to do it, but that only makes it worse). Also, her coping strategy is simply not talking about her emotions and keeping a straight face all the time.

Still, and even though she very reluctantly accepted help, Sho is willing to change and improve (even if she has to go through hell first). She has shown to be too cunning for her age and to behave as if she were an adult, and even though she is slowly trying to behave according to her age, she is very difficult for her as well.

Anyway, Shoma can also be a girl who listens to others and is willing to do it regardless of the situation, and she is always there to be a shoulder on which one can cry. She also tends to have fun when she feels calm around her, being one of the few moments when she feels and acts like a young little girl.

⟅☙⟆ Relatives ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori: Adoptive father. Currently dead.

⟣ Yui Komori: Adoptive sister. Currently alive.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Food ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't have a single specific favorite food, but she definitely likes sweet and simple foods, like grated applesauce and banana, or a fruit salad.

⟅☙⟆ Hoobies ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Shoma likes to make paintings with her hands. She serves to entertain him and clear her mind.

⟣ She also likes to make crowns with different types of flowers, even some bracelets and necklaces.

⟣ She has a certain fascination for mathematics and literature, so it is normal to see her do either of the two when she is bored. The problem is when she has a hard time doing a difficult exercise.

⟣ She Likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. She likes to decorate and combine, so it is normal for her as a hobby to do the odd combination in video games, or in a room.

⟣ It may not count as a hobby, but Shoma loves to watch an episode of a series that she likes or a movie many times to imitate the lines, as if it were some kind of dubbing attempt.

⟅☙⟆ Occupation ⟅☙⟆

None, she doesn't consider herself a student, even if she studies at home.

⟅☙⟆ Relationships ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori, adoptive father.

She did not have a good relationship with him no matter how hard she tried at the time. It was too obvious the favoritism that he had with Yui, and how she always stayed in the shadow of the blonde. Despite trying to be like Yui, he could never have any kind of acceptance with her father.

⟣ Yui Komori, adoptive sister.

He adored her with her soul. Yui was Shoma's heroine, and she always tried to follow her example despite her unruly attitude as a child. The elder Komori was Shoma's world, and he simply wanted to be with her all the time.

Things have changed now. She can't even look at her. The disgust and hatred that he has for that now young woman is simply immense. And believe it when I say she tries; she tries too hard to forget so many things that caused this feeling, but she just can't.

⟣ Yvonne Beauchene, the right hand.

Shoma's only trusted person alongside her family. Yvonne was Shoma's guardian from the day he arrived at the church, although she had some problems because of it, and that is the reason why she had to leave, but surely nothing bad could happen, right?

⟅☙⟆ Likes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite not having tasted it in recent years, she liked (and still remembers the taste of it, so she still likes) Yvonne's orange tarts a lot. She used to do them when Seiji was not at home for her, Yui and Shoma.

⟣ She loves music, especially the one that doesn't have any type of letter and is only a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. Her favorite, and also Yvonne's, is "The Vampire Masquerade", which is the melody which Yvonne met her husband.

⟣ Regarding the above, she usually daydreams many times with music in the background and she likes that (because the real world sucks and it is her only way out of the stress and anxiety that she feels most of the time). She sometimes even draws or paints those scenarios that are formed in her head.

⟣ As said before, she likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. Also, despite having the face of wanting some horror games (these make her heart race and sometimes she has panic attacks), she prefers Animal Crossing by a lot.

⟣ Loves snakes (which are not poisonous), cats and dogs. Snakes are very good company, and cats and dogs are responsible for keeping her calm.

⟅☙⟆ Dislikes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite having been seen surviving based on it, she does not like meat very much. Of course, she can bear it, she even likes some (very few) meat dishes !, but there are certain types of meat that remind him too much of ... well, her own meat.

⟣ Obviously, she can't stand going to churches or things related to religion. She gets too anxious and nervous.

⟣ Her body and mind literally rejects any kind of physical affection if she doesn't know the person very well or doesn't trust them. It's no surprise, considering her personality. Very few people are lucky enough to even put a hand on her shoulder and not get hurt (Shoma doesn't do it on purpose).

⟅☙⟆ Fears and Phobias ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Somniphobia: fear of sleeping.

Oneirophobia, somniphobia, clinophobia or hypnophobia is an irrational and excessive fear of the act of sleeping. People who suffer from it enter a state of panic caused by the fear that while they are sleeping something terrible will happen to them, such as the possibility of stopping breathing or that they will never wake up, even knowing that there is no threat, but they stay awake, presenting insomnia. Some people who have this phobia associate going to bed with death.

In some cases, panic is unleashed by the belief that the dreams that will be had when sleeping are actually delusions and these will favor falling into a state of permanent madness. This type of phobia generates a great deal of stress and significant physical and mental deterioration, so it is not uncommon for many people to end up suffering from hallucinations, a fact that further aggravates this type of phobia: fear of sleeping.

Shoma cannot sleep because various things used to happen during these. She remembers well once a nun (then she disappeared without a trace) entered her room and hanged her, almost killing her if it weren't for Yui screaming for help.

⟣ Theophobia: fear of religion.

Theophobia is the fear or aversion to religion or the gods, and being more common among people who are raised in an environment of iron religiosity. Theophobia can express itself as fear, aversion, anger, or other negative emotion towards religious practices. In some cases, the theophobic representation can categorize the deity as an arbitrary totalitarian dictator or, conversely, as unworthy of worship.

It is common among people who suffer from theophobia to avoid religious texts, houses of worship (churches, mosques, synagogues ...) and even the parishioners of a religion.

The young woman lived in a church for years and was not treated as "a daughter of God", but as "an aberration of satan" by her father and certain nuns. She causes him so much fear that, if there really is a god, she has abandoned her for "not being worthy". Many things together caused this irrational fear of religion in general.

⟣ Hafephobia: fear of being touched.

Hafephobia is a specific phobic disorder (unlike agoraphobia or social phobia) that causes great suffering in the person who suffers from it.

It is an irrational fear of great intensity that manifests itself when the individual suffering from the phobia comes into physical contact with other people and is touched. It produces a series of cognitive, physiological or behavioral responses, among which extreme anxiety and the attempt to avoid the feared stimulus to reduce the unpleasant sensation stand out.

Shoma, of course, is working on this and for now she's doing very well, but if she's some stranger, she isn't going to allow herself to be touched or touched by another individual. She is so afraid that every touch will turn into a blow or something to harm her.

⟣ Atazagoraphobia: fear of forgetting.

Atazagoraphobia is the excessive fear of forgetting, which includes both the fear of forgetting and the fear of being forgotten or replaced by others. Despite the fact that it is a common sensation, atazagoraphobia has been little described in scientific language. In fact, it has been more pointed out by philosophers and writers who speak of atazagoraphobia as the fear of eternal anonymity.

Shoma was literally forgotten or ignored from a young age, and she doesn't want to go through it again. She doesn't want to feel so cold again that she can't breathe properly or move. She can't, she doesn't want to...

⟅☙⟆ Headcannon Voice ⟅☙⟆

Mia Rodríguez.

⟅☙⟆ Skills ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She is impressively good with knives and razors. She usually uses them for cooking.

⟣ Literally she can imitate many voices, even male ones. She uses it to make jokes or for some plan (to get some dessert) that she has in mind.

⟣ She is becoming more and more independent, and that is why she is getting very good at cooking. She even manages to focus on that rather than other things.

⟅☙⟆ Extra ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She has undiagnosed “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”.

⟣ She tends to bite her arm or bite her nails if she is very anxious.

⟣ It is difficult for her to accept some changes in her life, but she manages to adapt step by step.

⟣ She likes to play with Yvonne's family, August, her husband, being Shoma's favorite.

⟣ She is considerably innocent of the world around her, but at the same time, she isn't. She is aware that the world revolves around that filthy green paper, and she is very clever with it. She knows that her "condition" and her situation may be a weak point, but it is for that reason that she is also careful who she hangs out with.

⟅☙⟆ History ⟅☙⟆

Shoma arrived at the doors of the Komori family church on May 22, 2001, with only a note that said "My name is Shoma, Mom and Dad can no longer take care of me," just three weeks after I was born. She was greeted by one of the local sisters, a favorite of the owner and leader of that church, Seiji Komori. The latter named was not on that cold night, with the snow falling slowly in that beautiful place, so the same sister took care of the girl in his absence.

A girl with blond hair and pink eyes like the petals of a cherry tree approached said sister, curious by the cries that began to be heard. Seeing her up close, and seeing that beautiful celestial gaze, the seven-year-old girl took the girl in her arms (with the permission of her sister), and did not leave her during that night until the next day. It was no surprise to the sister that her crying stopped as soon as the young Komori began to gently cradle her in her arms.

Still, from the moment Seiji arrived, he knew that something was wrong with the girl, that she was "not human", and that he probably knew whose "gift" it was. Shoma was unwelcome, and he couldn't show her that in public, not with Yui close to her. Also, the plan deviated. No, he isn't supposed to have two daughters, and she is supposed to be just one more orphan, but the young blonde girl already called her "Shoma Umi Komori", and that could be ... Something dangerous for him. Obviously, the orders for Shoma to come to his office were not long in coming as soon as he was two years old.

What Shoma saw in her supposed father's room was sealed in her mind, and nothing else. Every time Shoma was called to her father's office, her heart raced because she knew something bad was going to happen. Every time that happened it was because she Shoma found out more and more that she was going to happen to every sixteen, maybe seventeen-year-old on certain dates. It was because Shoma knew too much about her, and if he couldn't make her forget everything she had seen, then she would silence her to her grave. Every time Shoma gained courage and told Yui, she was scolded for inventing such things, and she would see her father again for "breaking her promise" to him.

The only one who managed to believe her is the same sister who received her the day Shoma arrived there, although that same sister would get a serious face everytime Sho told her that, she never had to see her father when she told Yvonne.

But, one day, Seiji went a bit far with the punishments, and let the fury just blind him, even if he didn't even regret it afterwards. Seeing Shoma talk to someone... Important, once this man left the church it just infuriated him. That man's smile when he stopped talking to her and saw him in the eye was not good news at all. That night, everyone heard the screams of a three-year-old girl resound throughout the establishment, and she was found in the middle of the hall with a desperate Seiji, saying that she had been playing with a poker and that she tripped, with it smacking part of her face.

Shoma began to startle every time someone moved near her, every time someone placed her hand on some part of her body, or when they called her, or when they approached her. She didn't separate from Yui or the sister she trusted so much, and even though it started to be annoying for Yui as she grew older, there were very few times when she was really rude to Shoma due to the fatigue of having her on her back every day three seconds, but they just didn't help Shoma with her fear of being alone, either with Seiji, or with certain nuns. The sister who had her trust steadfastly refused to leave her alone if she wasn't with Yui, although it was only because she slipped out of sight once.

Things escalated to the worse on December 12, 2006, at exactly a quarter past two in the morning. It was precisely an exhausting day for the girl, because the nun who was taking care of her and her sister had to leave due to family problems, or so they told her.

The albino-haired girl couldn't sleep due to some nightmares, even though she had become very habitual. The young woman began to hear murmurs and footsteps outside the room that she shared with Yui, and she could make out her father's voice. She could make out her desperate tone from her ... And, strangely, anger.

Carefully, she got out of her bed without making any noise, but following a little voice in her head, she took the camera that belonged to the blonde that was a gift from her only trusted caregiver, and opened slowly the door. Her father had locked himself in her office, and she could hear someone else's voice. On tiptoe, he approached the door ajar, and looked behind it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the body of one of the older girls on the ground, tied up and with blood pouring from her head. That memory is somewhat blurry, but it remembers very well various parts of the conversation between her father and a man with long hair. She took photos, and to her surprise, they did not have flash, and the photos came out perfectly ... That woman had many strange objects.

Once she finished, she turned, intending to leave, but one of the nuns spotted her, yelling to warn Seiji. Shoma wasted no time running and closing in on her sister's room, which she was awakened by her scream. Shoma told her everything quickly, leaving the photos to hide them, and the little girl didn't hesitate long to jump out the window (it was not the first time that she did that out of boredom), and she ran away from there. Still, the nun had gone ahead, and it wasn't long to be just a few steps away from her with her father's poker, part of them burning.

She remembers her sister with hatred seeing it all in horror and just standing there with the camera in her hands, shaking, to simply turn and turn her back on him.

In the blink of an eye, she was dragged by her hair by her "father" and other nuns, and before she had a chance to run away, the girl was thrown into the basement, away from other people, away from Yui, away from everyone. She tried to get out, scream, but no one ever came.

Nobody, nobody at all...

And here ends her story. The young woman, thanks to her curiosity, sealed her fate. She was destined to die in that place, even if she didn't want that, alone and starving, not knowing if Yui or someone would remember her...

But they say that there is always someone who takes care of us somewhere, right? Even if she has no hope... Maybe there really is someone, even without her knowing it.

#shoma komori #komori shoma #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #diavolik lovers #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik #diaboliklovers #dia lovers #dialovers #describe your oc #oc info

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having-a-hyperfixate · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness.

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

#2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

#3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

#4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

-----------------

#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

#7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

------------------

#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

#9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

------------

#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

#11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

-------------

#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

#13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

#14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

#15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

#16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

#17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

#18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

#19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

…… Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

----------------------------

#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

#23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

#24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

#let's liveblog: neo twewy #neo twewy spoilers #secret reports

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varietysunsets · 4 years ago

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My Right Hand Man

Pairing: Diavolo/Kira Yoshikage Rating: T Tags: Domestic AU (with stands!), canon-typical violence, vague descriptions of murder, fluff, enemies to lovers? 👀 Word count: 7700

Description: Kira gets blackmailed into spending Christmas with his new neighbours.

A/N: happy holidays @doctorrosalia, here’s your @jjba-secret-santa ! sorry that this is so long, i havent written since last year’s secret santa so i was a little backed up lol. try to stay safe and relax in these bizarre times 🍹

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August 28th, 1999

It all began when Kira spotted the moving truck next door.

It was fancy—a name brand with about three or four men in matching uniforms hauling furniture inside the house. Nice-looking furniture, at that. Mostly black leather or white suede, practically new. Modernist style.

Kira couldn’t imagine why someone would move into their Morioh subdivision if they could afford furniture like that. Either they were broke and trying to overcompensate for the fact, or they recently came into money but still weren’t sure how to handle it. Personally, Kira hoped it was the former; if this new neighbour had exorbitant amounts of money, they would probably try to remodel the house. Kira dreaded to think about listening to a construction crew for weeks at a time.

Kira watched the moving crew for a good fifteen minutes while he sipped his coffee. The crew hauled in a large, plastic-wrapped mattress, followed shortly by another, much smaller one, too.

Kira nodded his head. His new neighbour had a child. That wasn’t surprising. A lot of people in the neighbourhood had families. This was a relatively safe place, after all.

The thought made Kira smile a bit. With another sip of coffee, he checked his watch. Almost time to leave.

The movers continued to do their work, steadily unloading the huge truck. As Kira went and rinsed out his mug, he realized that he hadn’t yet seen his new neighbours. And then, it came to him that he would need to learn the schedule of these new neighbours, too. That left a sour note in Kira’s mouth—before, an old man lived there with his extremely young girlfriend. It was easy to bypass them and do what he needed, because the man was senile and the girlfriend was never home, probably partying or seeing other men.

Kira drew a steady breath, calmed himself. He turned to the table, where his girlfriend sat. Stiff, perfect, angelic, almost. All negative feelings washed away from him.

Lovingly, he scooped her up and held her to his face. He kissed the back of the corpse hand, savoring the feel of her soft, cold skin against his lips. She was fresh and delightful; really, he didn’t need to worry about the new neighbours for now, his current girlfriend would last for a good week or so. Maybe longer.

With another quick kiss, Kira wrapped his girlfriend back up and returned her to the fridge. He straightened his tie, collected his briefcase, and went for the door.

He took his time locking the door outside, if only hoping that he might catch a glimpse of his new neighbour. Unfortunately, the curtains were drawn tight and there was no sign of them outside, so Kira began his commute to work curious and unsatisfied.

—30—

September 5th

A week passed. Still, Kira hadn’t seen any sign of life from his new neighbours’ house. Kira tried to break it down rationally, to find clues to tell him anything about these new people; he assumed there was only one parent, given the fact that the furniture brought in was near-immaculate, but missing any feminine touches. Possibly a single father. The problem with that was Kira hadn’t seen a parent or even a babysitter come or go yet. Given the time of year, the child would be out of school, so someone needed to be watching it.

There was so much mystery surrounding these people that it made Kira nervous. He tried to mind himself and rationalize his anxiety, but every time he passed a window, he found himself staring out at the neighbours, desperately grasping for anything he could find.

The only thing different he could see since the neighbours moved in were the slightly open purple butterfly curtains in one of the second-floor windows. Every other set of blinds or curtains were drawn, blocking the inside off from the rest of the world. It was frustrating, so frustrating.

After waking up, Kira did as he always did; he dressed, went to the kitchen to start his coffee, and pulled his girlfriend from the fridge. A rank smell followed her; black rot began to take the edges of her wrist. Kira’s heart sank with despair and disgust.

He couldn’t focus on this right now, otherwise he would get frazzled. Kira shut the fridge door and walked through the house, all the way to the back porch.

The early-morning air was fresh and warm outside. Calm emotions ebbed through him as he breathed steadily.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Kira caught movement in the neighbours’ backyard.

Kira tensed, though he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Killer Queen materialized behind him, set and ready as it peered over Kira’s shoulder. In the neighbours’ backyard was a young child walking around, easily only a kindergarten student or younger, with bright pink hair wearing a sundress.

Kira relaxed, even laughed inwardly at himself. He waved Killer Queen away, though the Stand stayed where it was. Curious, Queen drifted to the porch railing and leaned over, as if closely observing the child. At this point, Kira could have gone back into the house, but there was a strange nagging feeling inside him that made him stay put.

A quick survey of the neighbours’ backyard told Kira that this little girl was completely alone and unsupervised; no one was on the back porch, and as always, the blinds were drawn. Kira knew that he was the most dangerous thing in Morioh, yet he felt uncomfortable leaving the girl alone. Odd, because she wasn’t his responsibility in the slightest. Perhaps only to keep his illusion of being a good person, Kira quietly observed the girl a little more.

She explored around the yard, plucking grass and dandelions. Her curly hair was cropped short around her head, bright pink. Kira had never seen anything like it. Queen beside him stared intently, unblinking, like a cat watching prey.

The girl knelt, scooped another handful of flowers, then happened to turn around. Kira jolted slightly as they made eye contact. Queen jumped to hide behind Kira; the cold feeling of its hands grasped Kira’s shoulders. Without any idea of what to do, Kira waved at her gently.

The girl didn’t smile. Her chubby cheeks perched in an almost-frown, but her yellow eyes were bright. She raised one grassy hand and waved back.

Kira thought she was cute for a child. He never caught onto the baby craze or any particularly paternal instincts, but perhaps now he could understand why women swooned over them. He waved again, smiling softly, then lowered his hand. The little girl put her hand down, too. She kept staring, then decisively started walking towards Kira.

There was no real divide between their yards, only a small grassy slope leading to a shallow valley. Kira kept his yard immaculate and mowed, the neighbours’ grass was almost to the girl’s knees.

The girl made it within three feet of the divide when a man came around the corner of the house. Killer Queen dematerialized, and Kira stood up straight again.

The man was tall and lanky, but despite that, his arms were obviously defined under the sleeves of a black rock band t-shirt. He had a wild mat of long pink hair, and a sharp face with dark circles under hard set, black eyes.

At first glance, Kira could tell the man was his age, but somehow, he seemed much younger.

“Do you have a problem?” The man asked sharply, with an obvious Italian accent. He walked past the little girl and stood partially in front of her.

Kira was taken aback, but he kept his cool. He smiled slightly and bowed his head a little.

“No problems,” He assured the man. His mouth felt dry. “I was just standing here.”

“You were watching my daughter, like a pervert.” The man accused.

Kira almost reeled. His stomach curled at the accusation. “I wasn’t watching her... That way. She looked alone; I was just making sure that she didn’t wander off. No ill-intentions, I assure you.”

Kira sweat bullets under the hard, distrustful stare of his neighbour. It felt like forever before he finally spoke.

“You mind your business next time.” There was no threat attached to the end of the man’s statement, but Kira felt it in his tone.

Shivers rushed up Kira’s spine. Nothing normally scared him, certainly not people, but this man made him feel things. A little bit of fear, maybe excitement at his audacity. It wasn’t the type of attitude people usually took in Morioh, especially not with mild-natured Kira Yoshikage.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Kira offered, trying to recollect his composure. “I apologize that this is our first meeting.”

The man narrowed his eyes. He glared Kira up and down.

Kira forced a smile, even as he held his breath.

Without a word in reply, the man grabbed his daughter by the shoulder and ushered her back towards the house. “Come on, Trish,” he mumbled, so quiet Kira almost didn’t hear.

Trish went willingly, but not without casting one last glance at Kira. Expressionless, she waved.

Kira considered waving back, out of politeness, at least. But soon Trish and her father disappeared into the home again.

Killer Queen’s presence radiated behind Kira’s shoulder. Glancing back, Kira saw that Queen had its hand up, waving back at Trish. Kira rolled his eyes.

“Stop that. She can’t see you.”

Kira returned to his own house. Queen lingered a second longer, staring out unblinking at the lawn, before dissipating and following Kira.

—30—

October 12th

Summer fully ended, and with it came mild Autumn days. As always, Kira went to work, did his errands and chores, and over time he stopped thinking about his odd neighbours as much. He caught glimpses of them here and there, but hardly enough to focus on. Sometimes in the morning Kira saw Trish leave the house for school and join the other neighbourhood children for the commute. Other times, just after dusk, Kira caught glimpses of his strange neighbour creeping to the mailbox.

Through vague conversations with the mailman, Kira pieced together that his neighbour went by the nickname Diavolo. That was about the extent of what Kira really cared to find out; he knew this Diavolo’s schedule and that was all he needed.

So, life went on as usual for Kira.

He met a waitress at a restaurant with exceptionally beautiful hands. He stalked her home to a bustling apartment and strangled her before she had the chance to scream. Killer Queen disposed of the evidence, and the TV playing perfectly hid the sounds of carnage. The exhilaration from killing carried Kira all the way home as though he were walking on air. Kira kept his new prize nestled in his suit pocket; the lingering warmth from the corpse hand was delicious, and her skin was so soft when Kira stroked her.

Kira’s new girlfriend was exactly what he needed in his home; she fit in perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kira was completely at peace.

Though every day of the following week was identical, Kira savoured it. Perfect peace in his quiet life, unnoticed and left alone—he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Before work on a Thursday morning, Kira checked his mailbox. He flipped through, sorting the junk from the important letters, almost mindlessly, until he got to an unmarked manilla folder at the bottom of the stack. Curious, Kira pursed his lips. He set the rest of his mail aside and opened the folder.

His heart stopped.

Inside were photographs. Photos of himself, taken through a window, kissing his girlfriend in his kitchen. Photos of him lovingly painting his girlfriend’s nails. Even photos of his girlfriend, from all angles, sitting out on the table and in the fridge, taken from inside his home.

Violent nausea washed over Kira. His stomach twisted into a knot, his chest clenched with anger. He wanted to collapse and scream and throw up all at the same time. Not only was he being watched, but whoever took these photos was inside his home. They touched his things and invaded his space, handled his girlfriend.

As Kira slid the photos back into the folder, he noted a letter tucked inside. Despite the waves of sickness washing through him, he managed enough coordination to read it.

And then he read it over again. And again. And Again.

The letter detailed extremely specific instructions for Kira. A time and place to be, down to the minute, and a gracious description of a man Kira was to kill, “however he usually does”. Then there were threats at the end—promises that Kira’s life would be upturned with the photographs and more if the task wasn’t completed, or if he tried anything suspicious. And that there would be more tasks to come later.

Kira couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Almost in a daze, he brought his mail into the house.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Kira gnawed his nails until blood seeped down his fingers and dripped onto the table. Easily, Kira could see himself falling into a slippery slope, constantly running around killing for this blackmailer until he either got caught or got himself killed. Unless he figured out who the blackmailer was and struck first.

When Kira snapped back to consciousness, his hand was covered in blood. He licked his lips, and then went to wash up.

He called out to work that day, his first sick call in months. Kira faked a cough and apologized profusely. His boss wished him well and told him to get some rest and feel better soon.

Kira had no intention of doing either. He spent the day fretting, thinking and mulling over the letter—one part on how to kill and another on how to find his blackmailer.

—30—

October 20th

All things considered, the kill was easy; the target was passed out drunk when Kira arrived. Kira rigged the home with bombs as instructed, and quickly he discovered why his blackmailer wanted this man killed.

The target’s home was littered with photographs—ironically, Kira assumed they were to be used for blackmail, too. He took a moment to examine a few and found that both his and his neighbour’s homes were pictured. Another showed his neighbour leaving the house, in one of his mad dashes for the mailbox.

Though he had many questions unanswered, some of the mystery clicked. Kira finished his task and fled the scene. He was long gone by the time firefighters arrived to put out the blaze that was the target’s home.

—30—

October 22nd

Another letter arrived mysteriously in Kira’s mailbox. Just as Kira feared, the slippery slope had begun.

Once again, the letter listed everything down to the minute detail; Kira was to leave his home at 1:35pm that day and arrive at a nearby park by 1:48. Apparently, the sender had measured the exact time window it would take to get there. As with the last letter, this one was incredibly detailed and well-written, until the very end, that is. The final line read,

Find a young man named Doppio.

Talk soon.

Kira was given no description, no call to action, nothing. What was he to do when he found this Doppio? How was he even supposed to find him? What if he couldn’t?

Worry wrought Kira’s body. He chewed his nails the entire walk to the park, despite trying his best to remain calm. The signs of a beautiful fall day were around him; golden leaves tumbled from the trees and danced in the gentle breeze. All he could think about was whether his not-so-secret blackmailer would expose him completely.

Kira got rushed by violent thoughts of what he might do to this Doppio person when he found him. He wanted nothing more than to use Killer Queen and erase this fool completely, but he couldn’t. There was too much he didn’t know yet. And there were people walking around everywhere in this park.

Most notably, a younger guy with purple hair and a matching sweater struggled to keep a little girl, wearing a backpack and child-leash, in check. He laughed nervously to himself and chided the child gently.

At first, Kira paid them no mind, until he looked closer; the child looked strangely familiar. He paused to observe and realized that the little girl on the leash was his next-door neighbour.

Trish noticed Kira staring first. She glanced over her shoulder and stopped tugging on her leash; instead, she waved her hand at Kira, expressionless and silent. The man with her glanced back as well.

He looked Kira over, then his eyes lit up.

“Oh! Oh!” He said. “You’re mister Yoshikage? Um— Kiri— No, Kira, right?”

Kira bristled slightly. He dug his nails into his palm, in an attempt to soothe the desire to chew them. “Kira Yoshikage, yes.”

The boy sighed deeply in relief. He smiled a weary grin and dropped his shoulders. “Oh, thank god. I’m Doppio. The boss told me to come find you. He said— ha! He said I’d find some old blond guy in a suit walking around the park like a creep. But you’re not— you’re a lot younger than I was expecting.” Doppio laughed awkwardly.

Kira stared at him. His expression slipped into something intense and unimpressed.

Doppio’s laughter petered off. He cleared his throat. Trish tugged viciously on her leash, in a desperate attempt to chase a stray cat strolling by.

“Um... Should we... Walk and talk?” Doppio offered. His body jerked as Trish pulled. “The boss gave me some stuff to talk about with you.”

Kira couldn’t explain the feeling inside his chest. It was a seething anger; not only was he being blackmailed, he had to deal with someone like... This. It was almost insulting, in a very specific way.

Outwardly, Kira tried to seem calm. He bowed his head briefly to Doppio.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

For the most part, Trish led the way. She jerked Doppio every so often, in some violent pursuit of this or that, and without fail every time Doppio laughed awkwardly and gave Kira a ‘what can you do?’ sort of glance.

There were a few people in the park, strolling around and enjoying the day. Normally, Kira blended in well with the crowd, but he felt now that walking beside Doppio and the unruly child made them the centre of attention. Kira’s palms sweated; Doppio remained oblivious that people may be staring at them.

“So... You got the boss’ letters pretty easy, huh?” Doppio said, as though he were making small talk. Trish jerked his arm again, as she rushed towards a small playground in the middle of the park.

Everything about this felt surreal to Kira, like he was living in a fever-dream, or inside a carnival mirror. Maybe this was an elaborate prank, or Kira’s tailored personal hell.

“I did.”

Doppio waited a second for Kira to say more, but when it became obvious that he had finished his statement, Doppio awkwardly filled the silence.

“Well, the boss told me he respects how quickly you got the job done. And effectively! He’s really impressed by you, mister Kira. He thinks you have a lot of potential.”

“That’s... Good.” Kira approached the conversation carefully, lest he accidentally offer unknown information.

Together, they approached the edge of the playground. Doppio knelt and unclasped the leash from Trish’s bookbag.

“Stay where I can see you,” Doppio said to her, but the moment she was free, Trish took off in a sprint towards the jungle gyms.

“If I can ask... Why didn’t your ‘boss’ come out here to meet me?” Kira inquired.

Doppio rolled the leash up in his hand and stood straight. “Oh, uh— he doesn’t really like being out in public, he’s kind of a hermit. But! This is confidential, I promise you can trust in me. I know everything, I won’t rat you out.”

Doppio led them over to some benches on the outskirts of the playground. No one else was around. Despite his weariness, Kira sat beside Doppio.

“I know I don’t seem very trustworthy, and you probably think I’m kind of a dork,” Doppio continued. Kira side-glanced at him. “But I’m Diavolo’s right-hand man. The only reason he sent me out here is because he doesn’t want any more paper trails, get it? This whole ordeal is pretty hush-hush.”

“Diavolo.” Kira repeated softly to himself. That confirmed it. He crossed his legs and leaned his elbow on his knee. “What does he want from me?”

Doppio fiddled with the leash in his hand. He watched Trish run around closely, in case she made a break for it.

“More jobs. The boss has a lot of enemies, you know? But he’s lying low right now, he can’t risk dealing with it himself.”

“Then why would he pick me, a complete stranger?”

Doppio laughed a little. “It’s not like you’ve never met. You live right next door, after all. It’s easier to keep track of you and everything.”

Silence settled between them. For a long second, Doppio and Kira stared at each other. In the background, gravel crunched as Trish fell off the monkey bars, only to quickly jump up and try again.

As the silence and its implications seeped in, Doppio’s expression dropped. Horror etched across his face.

“Oh, shit. I wasn’t supposed to say that. I— I...”

“I already figured that out,” Kira offered. His methods were always perfect, he had no enemies, no reason for anyone to suspect him; it only made sense that his new neighbour, Diavolo, the only new thing in his otherwise perfect life, was the cause of it all.

Doppio seemed slightly relieved, but still there were some hints of terror in his expression. He fiddled more with his hands and glanced around nervously. Then, he started to mutter, “Ring, ring, ring...”

Kira blinked. Doppio got up and paced, all while muttering to himself.

That was one way to leave a conversation cold, Kira thought.

“Ring, ring... Where is it...?”

Almost triumphantly, Doppio picked up a crushed, empty soda can. He put it to his ear and said, “Hello? Doppio speaking.”

Despair settled in Kira’s stomach. He was supposed to trust this man? This entire interaction already felt like a slap in the face, but this was too much. Kira hoped even more now that this was an elaborate prank, or maybe even just a long dream that he would soon wake up from.

Doppio’s eyes lit up. “Boss! Oh— yeah, yeah, he’s here. One sec.”

Doppio turned to Kira and held the can out.

“He wants to talk to you,” Doppio said.

At this point, Kira didn’t know what to think. He felt a thousand eyes staring at him, even though there were only a few people walking around, ignoring them.

Despite the absurdity of this, Kira took the can. Under Doppio’s expectant gaze, he put the can to his ear and said, “...Yes?”

“Yoshikage.”

Kira jolted. Directly in his ear was the voice of his neighbour—Diavolo. Deep and calm, yet heavy and serious.

Kira jerked his eyes to Doppio; the man stood there smiling, waiting patiently. Only then did Kira notice that one of Doppio’s eyes wasn’t quite right—the pupil was darker, twitching, in an uncanny familiar way.

“Listen to me, Yoshikage.” Diavolo whispered to him. Kira watched Doppio’s face the entire time; his lips moved with the speech. “You’re going to do exactly as Doppio says. If you lay a hand on my Doppio or my daughter, I will ruin your life in such a specific way that you will wish you were dead.”

Panic and fear gripped Kira’s lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

“Doppio has more power than you realize, and he will not hesitate to use it against you. And don’t forget, I have your life in the palm of my hand. Check your mailbox when you get home.”

Kira lowered the can from his ear and stared, shocked, at Doppio.

Doppio smiled back innocently. Both his eyes matched again, the irises a bright golden colour.

Kira couldn’t find the words to speak even if he wanted to. Doppio’s smile was almost haunting.

“Let’s talk about your next task then, mister Kira.”

—30—

November 1st

A woman this time, and a pretty one, at that. She had beautiful skin and excellent, gorgeous hands. Manicured. Adorned in expensive rings and a bracelet. Kira imagined she was a pianist, or even a harpist. Something about the delicate nature of her hands led Kira to believe she played an equally regal instrument.

Even though he was there on business, Kira saw no problem with keeping her hands. It would be a waste otherwise, he thought. After some quiet contemplation, and comparing them both, Kira settled on taking the left hand; her right index finger had a broken nail, while the left was completely intact.

Kira finished the job with a quiet blast from Killer Queen. He went home satisfied, with his new girlfriend safely tucked into his blazer.

As soon as Kira stepped into his home, the phone rang.

Confused, Kira glanced at the time; it was late, far later than when he usually got calls of any kind. Wearily, Kira moved to the phone on the wall and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Kira Yoshikage.” Diavolo greeted. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Kira felt shivers go down his spine. He considered hanging up, but something kept him standing there, waiting for Diavolo to say more.

And he did.

“I assume you did. Did you bring home a souvenir, by chance?”

Kira’s stomach wretched a bit. “What do you want? Can’t I have an evening in peace?”

Diavolo laughed. “Oh, sure. I don’t have another task for you yet, I just wanted to thank you for your work. Based on your reaction, I assume you got my gift.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I picked her out special for you, couldn’t you tell?” Diavolo stated, as though it were obvious. He laughed again, a haunting sound. “You’re a despicable man, Yoshikage, pretty perverted, but your taste is obvious.”

Suddenly, the corpse hand in Kira’s pocket felt impossibly heavy.

“No need to thank me,” Diavolo continued. “I’m sure you’re beyond grateful. I have nothing else for you right now, but we’ll be in touch. Ciao.”

Diavolo hung up, leaving Kira standing there, stunned into silence. Up until now, he assumed that everything about Diavolo was despicable. Weird and despicable. This, however, felt bittersweet; possibly the strangest gift anyone had ever gotten Kira, but also... The most thoughtful.

Kira didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. He did his best to push it out of his head, to Zen out while he went about his nightly routine.

Still, his mind wandered back to Diavolo. The strange gift. His deep voice.

It all haunted Kira, but not necessarily in a bad way.

—30—

December 10th 1:15pm

Over the course of the next month, Diavolo’s tasks shifted from murderous in nature to more... Domestic.

It was frustrating and borderline insulting at first that Kira was expected to go around collecting dry-cleaning and groceries—Kira was much more than someone’s errand-boy—but at the same time, Diavolo found intriguing ways to reward Kira for his service. Money and dropped hints to help him find new targets, always beautiful and model-worthy, in Kira’s opinion.

Though originally he despised Diavolo, now Kira couldn’t help but see some merit in the strange man, at least as far as his taste went and little else.

That being said, Kira’s next task was... Unexpected.

Kira got the call while he was at work, which jarred him, but he supposed that he shouldn’t expect any less from Diavolo at this point.

“Hello, Yoshi.” Diavolo’s voice pierced through Kira, giving him a gut-reaction shiver.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not? Does it make your skin crawl? You should consider it a term of endearment. I think more people should call you it.”

Kira sighed. “These calls are recorded, you know.”

Diavolo sounded amused. “I figured. I need a favour of you.”

Kira glanced casually over his shoulder. Though his expression remained calm, his palms started to sweat.

“A favour?” Kira ventured carefully.

Diavolo hummed in his ear. “I need you to pick Trish up from school today. And then take her to go get Christmas decorations for an hour or so.”

Kira furrowed his brows. As Diavolo spoke, Kira poked his pointer finger to his lips and chewed the nail.

“This is an odd favour from you,” Kira muttered, choosing his words carefully.

“I know. But you’re the only person I trust to do this.”

Kira wanted to laugh. Diavolo trusted him? Given the chance, Kira would strangle him and chop him to bits, then use Killer Queen to erase all evidence that he existed. He wouldn’t hesitate.

Yet at the same time, deeper down, Kira felt hesitation. He tried to play it off as self-sustaining worry, but he knew better.

Eventually, Kira replied, “I get off work at four.”

“Good. I’ll see you later tonight, then.” Then, Diavolo teased, “If anything happens to Trish, I’ll skin you.”

Kira chuckled at that, even though he knew that Diavolo was completely serious.

—30—

December 10th 4:25pm

Trish had no emotion and no expression when Kira came to pick her up. She left the other children playing on the playground without looking back and willingly approached Kira’s car. She was bundled up warmly in a jacket with matching splash pants and a knit hat.

“Hi Yoshi.”

Kira pursed his lips. “You ought to call me ‘mister Kira’ instead.”

Trish frowned and took an attitude to her tone. “Papa told me to call you Yoshi.”

“It’s more respectful for you to call me Kira.”

Trish paused a long moment. She pulled the knit hat off her head, revealing a tangle of short, frizzy pink hair.

“I’m gonna call you Yoshi,” she said decisively.

Kira couldn’t believe the audacity of this brat.

“At least call me ‘Yoshikage’.”

Trish wrinkled her nose. “Yoshi.”

Kira gritted his teeth. His mind was plagued by violent thoughts, and his hands twitched at his sides. Inside his chest, he felt Killer Queen itching to be released.

“Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders?” Kira asked calmly instead.

Trish glanced up at Kira. Her expression soured further, and she stuck her tongue out.

“He told me I’m not s’pposed to go anywhere with strangers. Where’s uncle Doppio?”

“I’m not sure,” Kira said, holding in his annoyance. He opened the car door and ushered Trish inside. “We’ll have to ask your father later.”

Trish crossed her arms and pouted. After getting buckled in and settled, she stared angrily out the back window as they drove.

“...Is your ghost still following you?” Trish eventually asked.

Kira glanced back at her through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sorry? My ghost?”

“Yeah. The pink one.”

“I don’t have a ghost following me,” Kira lied.

“It waved at me,” Trish continued to say. She stared hard at the back of Kira’s head, as though it would make the ‘ghost’ in question appear. “It was big and pink and had kitty ears.”

Kira’s hands were clammy. He felt Killer Queen swell inside his chest, almost desperate to materialize after being talked about. Kira pushed it down.

“You have a wild imagination. There are strange things in this world, but I doubt ghosts are one of them.”

Trish didn’t seem satisfied with that answer fully, but seemingly she took it. To stave off further questioning, Kira turned the radio on. It worked well enough, until they reached their outlet mall destination.

Normally, Kira avoided the mall whenever possible, especially around the holiday season. It was too busy for his liking and the appeal of Christmas never really resonated with him personally; if anything, it felt like a waste of time. However, his anonymity laid on the line, so Kira put forth a forced smile.

“Your father wants you to pick out some Christmas decorations.” Kira told Trish. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like?”

Trish shook her head. She intentionally looked away from Kira as they walked through the bustling mall.

Kira seethed quietly. He led Trish towards a specialty knick-knack store and shooed her in. “Well, think about it. Let’s look around.”

There was no shortage of Christmas decorations in the store. Everything was covered in red or green tinsel, doused with fake foam snow. Sparkly ornaments and colourful decorations flashed and sang everywhere. Kira couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the amount of pure, unadulterated Christmas spirit he was surrounded by.

Finally, Trish’s expression shifted slightly. Though she didn’t smile fully, she did seem mildly impressed by everything. She wandered further into the store, following singing snowmen and dancing Santa’s.

Kira tried to follow, but easily became distracted. For the most part, he wondered about how anyone could find these annoying traditions endearing. Personally, Kira preferred modest, if any, Christmas decorations and quiet nights by himself throughout the holidays.

While Kira wasn’t paying attention, Killer Queen materialized. It lingered behind Trish, glancing around and inspecting her as she admired a wall of Christmas tree ornaments. Curiously, it reached its hand out to swat her shoulder.

Kira caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could stop Queen, a separate entity appeared. All Kira saw was a flash of hot pink before it reeled back and punched Queen full force in the mouth.

At the exact same time, Kira also felt the punch being delivered on himself. The force made him reel, lose his balance, crash to the ground. Thankfully, no one else was in the aisle to stare and gape. Pain ebbed through Kira’s face, anger and confusion welled up inside his chest.

Kira stared at Trish in utter disbelief, clutching his jaw.

For the first time since Kira had met her, Trish emoted. She decisively picked a sparkly, pink disco-ball ornament off the shelf and held it close to her chest. She looked Kira over, and then said with a smile, “I have a ghost, too.”

—30—

December 10th 6:01pm

Kira wanted to drop Trish off on the doorstep and vacate. However, before he could he even ring the doorbell, Doppio threw the door open. He seemed flustered, his face slick with sweat and his smile wild and nervous. He had his sleeves rolled up his elbow. Kira noted a small, dark stain on the bottom hem of his sweater.

“Oh! Mister Kira, perfect timing. I was just cleaning up. Come inside, won’t you?” As Doppio spoke, Trish took the chance to slip inside. She brushed by Doppio, and he acknowledged her by ruffling her hair and saying, “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Kira awkwardly held a paper bag of assorted ornaments and decorations by his side. His jaw still throbbed from the assault earlier.

“I don’t want to impose,” Kira said, though deep inside he wanted nothing more than to see the inside of Diavolo’s home; even just a glimpse would suffice.

Doppio opened the door further. He ushered Kira inside. “Not at all! Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Kira did come inside, and though normally he felt uncomfortable in barrages of social settings, he felt quite relaxed now. Maybe it was the relief of moving from a bustling mall to somewhere much, much quieter. Maybe it was that in combination with the excitement of finally seeing Diavolo’s home.

Doppio motioned Kira in and closed the door behind him. He smiled, and led the way towards the living room. The walls were crisp white and mostly clean; Kira noted a few criminal spots where crayon was smudged low on the walls.

“Did you want a coffee or a tea or anything?” Doppio asked. Obviously, he was just as excited about having guests as Kira was to be there.

“Tea would be nice. Whatever you have.”

Doppio grinned and nodded. “Okay! Sure, one sec. The boss’ll be right down, too.”

“No rush.”

Kira glanced around the living room, openly taking in everything that he could see. There was an odd dissociation between the niceness of the furniture and the children’s toys laying around on the floor. A collection of Barbie dolls lay discarded in the middle of the floor, along with an open case of pink glittery makeup, dangerously close to spilling on a lovely white carpet. In the very-most corner of the living room was a tall, fake Christmas tree; unsurpising, Kira doubted Diavolo would manage to find a real Christmas tree in Morioh. Upon closer inspection, Kira noted that there were drops of blood on one of the branches. And below, the floor was sparkling clean, but still wet; obviously recently cleaned.

Kira couldn’t help wondering what happened here. Potentially something to do with the fact Diavolo needed someone to pick up and distract Trish.

“Good to see you again.”

Kira twisted around. Diavolo stood in the doorway of the living room, and it occurred to Kira then that he hadn’t actually seen Diavolo since their first meeting. Kira’s heart skipped a nervous little beat, which he chose to ignore.

Diavolo looked much more well put-together than he did before. His hair was combed and fell neatly across his shoulders, his lipstick looked rushed but still befitting. Kira noted that along with a mesh shirt, he wore the same pants as Doppio.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Diavolo continued. He offered out a mug of tea to Kira. “Sit down. Make yourself comfortable while you’re here.”

Kira took the mug cautiously. Kira couldn’t help noticing that Diavolo painted his nails black; sloppily, at that. Kira tried not to let it linger in his mind, but as he sat down on a white suede chair, he couldn’t help thinking that, given the chance, he could have painted Diavolo’s nails much nicer. That thought, Kira realized, would probably haunt him for a while.

Diavolo took the paper bag of ornaments and brought it to the tree. He rooted through it, nodding his head.

“Excellent. I appreciate your help, Yoshikage.

“You know, you’re the only person who calls me by my first name.” Kira stated over the lip of his tea. “Everyone else has enough respect to call me Kira. I don’t even know how you found my full name.”

Diavolo grinned. He procured a box of white Christmas bulbs from the bag and turned it over in his hands.

“I respect you,” Diavolo said. “People I don’t respect don’t get referred to by name at all. And it wasn’t hard; I have my ways.”

“The same way you found my work phone number?”

“Exactly. You’re quick, Yoshi. That’s why I like you.”

Diavolo opened the box of bulbs. Kira’s eyes followed his hands; they were slender, with long fingers and smooth skin. Hands that hadn’t seen a day of hard labour in a long time, Kira figured. Aesthetically, they were perfect.

Kira forced himself not to stare. Live hands seldom intrigued him, but something about Diavolo’s seemed different. Perhaps it helped that he was an attractive man, even if his personality could be annoying and almost abrasive.

“Doppio said you liked me because I’m easy to control and watch over.” Kira said, to distract himself. He looked around the room, away from Diavolo’s working hands.

“Give yourself more credit. That’s only part of the reason.” Diavolo said. He placed another bulb on the tree. “You’re self-motivating, and handsome, too. I like surrounding myself with beautiful people.”

Kira sputtered on his tea. That wasn’t the response he was expecting. It left a mixed-feeling in Kira’s chest, wherein he felt pleased by the acknowledgement but also startled.

Diavolo looked back over his shoulder. “And look, you’re good with children, too. I took a chance on you with that, but I didn’t have many options today.” He smiled. “Work related business, you see.”

“I see,” Kira muttered, still processing this all. Deep down, Kira felt... Giddy. Excited, almost. He shouldn’t have, but he did. He couldn’t help it.

Little footsteps came running down the hall. Trish appeared in the living room door, having ditched her school uniform and winter clothes in favour of a princess play-dress.

“I wanna decorate the tree.” She said, intensely.

As if nothing had happened up until then, Diavolo nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Kira then sat there, quietly processing the entire interaction, while Diavolo helped Trish decorate the tree with sparkling, mis-matched ornaments.

—30—

December 24th

The phone rang. Thinking nothing of it, Kira pulled himself up from his seat and went to answer. He kept his eyes on his TV program the entire time.

“Hello, Kira residence.”

“Ah, so you are alone tonight.”

Kira pursed his lips. “Can I help you, Diavolo?”

“I want you to come over.”

“Right now? I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re watching TV by yourself. Christmas is a time to spend with friends and family.”

Kira quirked a small smile. “Are we friends and family? Also, it’s considered rude here to spy on your neighbours.”

“Close your curtains next time. Are you coming?”

The TV shifted into a commercial. Kira turned towards the window instead; through a crack in Diavolo’s curtains, Kira spotted a sliver of pink hair peeking back at him.

“Why not come over here and ask me in person?” Kira inquired. He picked up the remote and flicked his TV off. “Or leave a letter under my door.”

“This does just as well, doesn’t it?” Diavolo shot back. His smirk could be heard through his tone. “I’ll see you shortly?”

Kira hummed. “I suppose.”

“Good.”

Life was certainly strange for Kira right now. He hung up the phone and slipped his shoes on instead. Over his shoulder, he casted a glance towards his girlfriend, sitting still on the table in front of the TV. Kira blew her a little kiss; he didn’t want her to become jealous, after all.

Snow blanketed the ground outside; it crunched under Kira’s shoes as he crossed the lawn to his neighbour’s home.

With Kira’s help earlier that week, Doppio had outfitted the porch and doorway with sparkling Christmas lights. They glittered and glowed as Kira knocked on the door.

Diavolo appeared almost instantly. He was dressed nicely in a dark button-up and matching pants.

“You could have just come in,” Diavolo said, stepping aside.

“It feels more professional to knock, I think.” Kira replied.

Diavolo smiled. “This is a professional visit?”

Kira quickly looked Diavolo up and down. “You’re dressed like it is.”

“I enjoy looking nice. And you look...” Diavolo stepped close, more into Kira’s space than Kira would allow from anyone else. He plucked the shoulder of Kira’s purple sweatshirt. “...Comfortable.”

Diavolo’s fingers only barely brushed Kira’s shoulder. A small shiver ran through him, unnoticed.

They stood close to each other for only a moment, before Diavolo took a half step back.

“Glass of wine?” He offered.

“I don’t drink, really.”

“It’s wine, Yoshi, not hard liquor. Children drink wine.” Diavolo said that as he slipped into the kitchen.

Kira followed him with his eyes and said, puzzled, “No, I don’t think they should.”

Diavolo laughed at that. Kira smiled to himself, pleased, as he went for the living room. He sat on the couch, facing towards the TV and the twinkling Christmas tree.

“Trish is asleep, I take it.” Kira said.

“Long asleep.” Diavolo replied, as he came into the room. He sat down beside Kira and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. His hand laid close to Kira’s shoulder; close enough that Kira almost felt its presence. “Waiting for Santa now.”

Kira nodded towards the plate sitting on the coffee table. “That explains the milk and cookies.”

“Trish insisted. I can’t stand sweets, so help yourself.” Diavolo sipped his wine, then said, “Maybe next year we can leave Santa a bottle of ‘92 vintage.”

Kira chuckled. Diavolo’s hand was in the very corner of his vision, close enough to touching him that it made Kira’s heart race. He tried to play it cool, though he had no doubt Diavolo knew exactly what he was doing.

Diavolo lifted his glass to his lips again. Kira glanced, then shifted his gaze between Diavolo’s perfectly painted black lips and how delicately he held the glass stem. Effortlessly. Kira wanted to stroke and hold Diavolo’s fingers the same way he held the glass.

“It’s not... Easy for me to make genuine connections with people,” Diavolo admitted. Kira quirked his brow with interest. “But meeting you... It’s been nice.”

“Meeting is a bit of a stretch,” Kira commented. Despite this, he still clung to every word Diavolo said. “Blackmail is more accurate.”

Diavolo waved his hand dismissively, dangerously close to Kira’s face.

“It still stands. I’m glad I met you, Kira Yoshikage. I feel like we’ve helped each other in a lot of different ways.”

Kira nodded his head. “You aren’t wrong, I suppose...”

Diavolo grinned. He raised his glass of wine and shifted ever-so closer to Kira.

“Here’s to another year of violent success for us,” Diavolo said.

Kira leaned forward and took the glass of milk left out. He raised that and clinked it against Diavolo’s.

“No pun intended, I hope.”

Amused, Diavolo drank. His lipstick left a black mark around the rim of the glass. Then, with a sigh, Diavolo leaned forward and set his glass down. When he came back, he gave Kira a cocky look.

“...Would you believe me if I said that there was a mistletoe above you?”

Kira scoffed with a smile. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Diavolo smirked. “Would asking for a kiss be out of place?”

Kira, amused, lowered his glass. Diavolo did the same. With a carefully practiced elegance, Kira swept up Diavolo’s hand in his own. He wrapped his fingers beneath the wrist, his thumb stroked the soft flesh there. Likewise, he felt Diavolo’s pulse pump.

“Not... Per se.” Kira sighed, his heart racing to hold such a warm hand. It was unusual, but in a new, exciting way. He brought Diavolo’s hand up to his lips and adorned it with a kiss.

Diavolo smiled. Kira smiled back.

#jjba secret santa 2020 #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #kiraboss #kiravolo #kira yoshikage #jjba diavolo #jjba doppio #trish una #this fic was brought to you by my butt buddy johnathan who wrote the ending while i got ready for work #and my partner who harassed me until i let them read it < 3

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creepingsharia · 4 years ago

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“An Injustice Crying Out to Heaven”: Muslim Persecution of Christians, July 2020

by Raymond Ibrahim

A Muslim man broke into the historic Holy Cross Church in Turkey and started crying “Allahu Akbar.”

The following are among the abuses inflicted on Christians throughout the month of July, 2020:

The Slaughter of Christians

Uganda: A group of Muslims beat and drowned a pastor and another Christian for sharing the Gospel with their coreligionists. Peter Kyakulaga, pastor of the Church of Christ, and church member Tuule Mumbya, had begun to sail across Lake Nakuwa, where they would meet and evangelize to Muslims. More “hard-line” Muslims disliked this: “We have discovered that your mission is not to fish but to hold Christian meetings and then convert Muslims to Christianity,” a man told them. “We are not going to take this mission of yours lightly. This is our last warning to you.” On the next day in late June, Christian villagers came knocking on the door of David Nabyoma, a local leader:

They were requesting help, saying Muslims from Lugonyola had invaded the area around the lakeside, and several Christians were reported to have been injured, including my son. Immediately we rushed to the scene of the incident with several Christians. We hired four boats and drove to the lake and found out that two of the Christians had been badly beaten and drowned in the lake and died instantly.

Pastor Peter, 25, is survived by a wife and two children, 2 and 4; congregant Tuule, 22, is survived by a wife and a 2-year-old child.

Mozambique: Islamic militants have been responsible for “escalating extremist violence” in Cabo Delgado Province, where they have been attempting to carve out an Islamic state [on August 14, ISIS captured the port], and “where multiple churches have been burnt, people beheaded, young girls kidnapped, and hundreds of thousands of people displaced by the violence,” according to a July 23 report. More than one thousand have been slaughtered since 2017, when the Islamic uprising began. In one week in June, 15 people were beheaded in the Christian-majority nation. Discussing the situation, Bishop Lisboa said: “The world has no idea yet what is happening because of indifference. We do not yet have the solidarity that there should be.” One of the worst incidents occurred on Good Friday, when the terrorists torched a church and massacred 52 people. After explaining how five or six chapels were torched in just one recent month, the bishop described what happened to the historic Sacred Heart of Jesus mission:

They attacked the church and burnt the benches and a statue of Our Lady, made of ebony. They also destroyed an image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to whom the parish is dedicated. Fortunately, they were unable to burn the building itself, only the benches.

What is happening is “an injustice that is crying out to heaven” he concluded. Paulo Rangel, a Portuguese Member of the European Parliament, also discussed the situation in Mozabique: “The international community is nowhere to be seen in regard to the problem,” he said:

The people were already living in extreme poverty, facing grave difficulties. [The] problem is that at the present moment these people are facing the threat of death, of losing their homes, of becoming uprooted…. At present we know that there are young girls who have been abducted and enslaved, forced into sexual slavery by some of these guerrillas, these insurgents, these terrorists…We know that the recruitment of boys and adolescents, some of them very young, aged 14, 15, 16, is also happening. It is obvious that these young boys are under coercion. If they refuse to join the group, they could be killed.

Nigeria: In a 35-second video posted July 22, Islamic terrorists executed five men, three of whom were Christians. Blindfolded and on their knees, with the executors standing behind them, one of the terrorists said,

This is a message to all those being used by infidels to convert Muslims to Christianity. We want you out there to understand that those of you being used to convert Muslims to Christianity are only being used for selfish purposes. And that is the reason whenever we capture you, they don’t care to rescue you or work towards securing your release from us; and this is because they don’t need you or value your lives. We therefore, call on you to return to Allah by becoming Muslims. We shall continue to block all routes you travel. If you don’t heed our warning, the fate of these five individuals will be your fate.

Then the speaker says bismillah—meaning, “in the name of Allah”—and the executioners shoot their captives in the backs of their heads.

Additionally, at least 171 Christians were slaughtered by Muslim Fulani herdsmen in the space of roughly three weeks: Summaries of some follow:

On July 10, Muslim herdsmen massacred 22 Christians — “mostly women and children” — and torched many homes. “They killed two of my children [and husband],” recalled Bilkisu James from her hospital bed. They also “hacked another five of Bilkisu’s relatives to death with machetes including a mother and her baby daughter and a mother and her two sons.”

On July 11, a neighboring village was raided: “ten women, a baby and an elderly man were burnt to death in a house where they had taken refuge. Another seven villagers were injured and four houses burnt out.”

On July 19, people attending a wedding celebration were among at least 32 Christians massacred in Fulani attacks.

On July 23, a “horrific night attack [was launched] during a torrential rain storm … [A]t least seven Christians died… as militants brutally hacked unarmed men and women and children to death with machetes.” The report adds that “This was the second attack on the village within days, with seven murdered in an attack days earlier.”

On July 29, Muslim herdsmen murdered another 14 Christians — 13 of whom belonged to one extended family. Only one member of the family remained alive; his wife, all his children, aunt, uncle, brother, and other relatives were slaughtered.

Attacks on Christian Churches

Turkey: A Muslim man broke into Holy Cross, a historic Armenian cathedral in eastern Turkey, and proceeded to recite the adhan—the Islamic call to prayer traditionally made from mosques—while others videotaped him. He repeatedly chanted “Allahu Akbar,” and proclaimed the Islamic creed or shahada. He also wrote graffiti on the church walls: “Raising the Adhan in the church’s sanctuary has brought life back to it.” The July 2 report adds that,

Most churches and monasteries in Turkey have been left abandoned following the genocides of Christian peoples in the early 20th century and the mass emigration of Christians from the country due to decades of persecution. As a result, many churches in Turkey were left to ruin or turned into mosques or stables for animals.

In a separate incident, right before the start of Sunday worship service on July 12, a Turkish man appeared at the Antalya Bible Church and asked to speak to church leadership. He was told to return on the next day, and did so—only to issue death and arson threats to a pastor: “You and Özgür [another church leader] are dead. I broke the window of this church a few months ago, will attack again and, if necessary, burn it.” Security intervened and he was asked to leave before police were involved. Later it was revealed that police had apprehended him when he first broke the church’s windows, but released him because he had expressed “regret.”

Pakistan: A church was forced to take down its cross. Barnabas, a Christian resident of the village, explains:

We constructed three floors of minarets on a church and fixed the cross on top of that. However, it was removed after we received threats from local Muslims. The Muslims demanded we remove the cross and all three floors of the minarets, therefore, we had to obey them. Now, the building does not look like a church. It’s just a room and therefore we are sad.

“With broken hearts,” a local pastor added, the congregation agreed to take the cross down—even though “it was an illegal demand against Pakistan’s constitution, which guarantees religious freedom to all citizens.”

We took this decision for the safety and protection of Christians in the village…. Muslims threatened that if we don’t remove the cross, they will ban the prayer services and take the church property.… The authorities must look into this matter and ensure freedom of religion to all the segments of society.

In a separate incident, police violently interrupted a Christian prayer service. According to a brief July 13 report,

A priest was leading a prayer before providing a free meal for the poor when police officers appeared, and without further notice, they started damaging the stuff for prayer service…. Policemen turned down the meal, thrashed the pastor and people present. They captured the small sound-system, and beat men and women.

Another report offers more details concerning the fate of Raja Walter, the event organizer, who works to “raise funds to help people who are unfortunate or who have been severely affected by the coronavirus”:

[A]rmed policemen without a badge identifying them came to the food point and attacked him. He was beaten and tortured. Agents also smashed the loudspeaker he uses to motivate people and recite prayers before handing out food. The attack began as Raja was handing out food. As they struck him, the agents threw away his heart medicines and mobile phone. When they tried to arrest him, women present at the scene began to cry and pray for Walter, who by then had lost consciousness.

“It is ridiculous to treat Mr. Raja Walter like that,” a beneficiary of the free food said: “He has never done anything wrong to anyone. He is like an angel; he supports the poor and needy.” The attack, notes the report, “was likely caused by the use of speakers for praying.”

Canada: On July 28, a 16-year-old Muslim refugee from Syria pleaded guilty to four counts of terrorism. His schemes—including “a solo operation in the next few days”—were shared with and exposed by an undercover FBI agent posing as a fellow ISIS supporter online. “Churches,” the Muslim youth had written, and other “crowded places filled with crucifix believers” were among his primary targets. “Detonators, containers filled with white powders that turned out to be explosives, and diagrams of improvised explosive devices were among the 95 exhibits they seized. It was a bomb lab,” says the report. His sentencing is set for September.

France: After fire broke out in the Cathedral of Nantes—caused by an asylum seeker—“Muslim [social media] users, mostly of Arab origin, and their leftist fanboys in Central Europe express[ed] their enthusiasm and glee online, according to a July 19 German-language report. Such expressions appeared all throughout social media, but “especially Facebook,” where “the sympathizers of Islamization bluntly celebrated their satisfaction: through laughing or smiley emoticons or ‘like’ clicks they expressed what they think of burning Christian houses of worship.” The report further observed that “this type of expression of opinion … does not lead to the deletion and blocking of the users by social media teams—whereas masses of [other types of] comments are deleted as ‘hate speech.’”

Attacks on Converts to Christianity

Kenya: A pack of seven Muslims beat Fozia, a Christian woman, aged 21, till she lost consciousness. They also broke the teeth of her sister, Asha, aged 19, and beat their 18-year-old brother. Problems began when “Muslims started questioning us why we were not attending Friday worship at the mosque,” Fozia explained. “This interrogation continued for several months.” Then one day, when the siblings went outside their home to restore its water supply, they saw a raucous group of Somalis approaching: “There were noisy shouts calling us infidels,” recalled Fozia:

They said, “We know you do not belong to us. We have got hold of you today – we have no mercy on you people. You need to return to where you came from.” They began hitting me with sticks and a blunt object, which injured my back and my right hand. There I fainted for five hours and regained consciousness at the hospital [where she remained for two days].

“The attackers injured me by hitting my head against the wall,” her sister Asha added. “My two front teeth got broken, and the attack caused the left side of my body to swell…” According to their widowed mother, the family has been “running for their lives from Muslims of Somali descent who have attacked them for nearly 10 years:

[And now we] are receiving threats that my children should withdraw the case from police if we are to remain safe. But we demand compensation for my three ailing children and medication for them. Three weeks have now gone by, and my children are constantly on pain killers.

These are not the first attacks on the apostate family; according to the report,

In 2016 Somali Muslims attacked another of her adult sons, beating him unconscious. Muslim Somalis in Nairobi had seriously injured the same son on Oct. 27, 2011, after they learned that family members had become Christian. The Somali neighbors hit him with a metal bar on his forehead and face, and he lost two teeth and sustained knife wounds to his hand. They left him for dead. Her family has suffered various attacks since embracing Christ. After she filed a police complaint about an attack by Somali Muslims in Kenya in 2014, no fewer than 10 Islamic elders visited her to warn that she was risking her life by doing so. Somalis generally believe all Somalis are Muslims by birth and that any Somali who becomes a Christian can be charged with apostasy, punishable by death.

Morocco: “Converts to Christianity in Morocco have been repeatedly arrested by police as part of a campaign clamping down on the Faith,” says a July 17 report; some have been arrested as many as three times in one week. Jawad Elhamidy, president of the Moroccan Association of Rights and Religious Liberties, elaborated:

Most are released after interrogation—but are often put under pressure to return to Islam, and face abuse when they refuse…. The penal code holds that all Moroccans are Muslims, so those who convert to Christianity face legal problems, beside threats to their security.

As one example, he gave the story of Mohamed al-Moghany, who converted to Christianity, and “whose employer had waved a gun at him and threatened to kill him.”

When Mr. Al Moghany filed a complaint with police, he was told not to speak about his conversion and threats were made against his family. Six months later, following an argument with his employer, he was arrested and sentenced to six months in prison. His wife was interrogated as well…. If a Moroccan enters a church, one of two things can happen—either a policeman sitting in front of the church arrests him or her, or the cleric in charge of the church asks the person to leave, unless the purpose is tourism….Moroccan Christians worship in secret house churches to avoid state sanctions or harassment from society.

The report elaborates:

[I]t is even more dangerous for Christian converts when allegations of blasphemy are made—Christians have been held for several days and there have been incidents of violence…. Unlike foreign Christians, converts do not enjoy freedom of worship under the law…. Foreign clergy are said to discourage Moroccan Christians from attending their churches because of fear of being criminally charged with proselytism. Under Moroccan law, proselytising or converting to another religion is a criminal offence punishable by between six months and three years in prison.

Generic Abuse of Christians

Pakistan: A group of 12 Muslim men, led by one Muhammad Irfan, broke into a Christian man’s household, “and tried to kidnap his [13-year-old] daughter, Noor, who they planned to rape and forcefully convert to Islam,” says a July 26 report. When the man and his family intervened, the Muslims thrashed them. “He often teased and disturbed my daughter in the streets, but we always ignored,” explained the girl’s mother:

Finally, Irfan forcibly entered into my house and intended to kidnap my daughter. However, we resisted. In response, he attacked and beat my entire family who got multiple injuries. My husband and others got injuries in the attack. However, police have not registered the case against Irfan and medical staff have not provided medical aid to the injured.

The report adds that “Local supporters of Irfan have issued threats against the family… [They] have threatened to burn down their house if they pursue legal action against Irfan and the other attackers.”

Yemen: “Christians living in Yemen,” a July 28 report says, “request prayer as they experience persecution amidst ongoing war, food shortages, and COVID-19.”

These challenges have created a significant burden of isolation, both spiritually and physically. The Christian population, which once numbered approximately 40,000, is reduced to only a few thousand. Most live unaware of each other’s existence and in great fear of discovery from their neighbors… [The current] environment has led to persecution that keeps the church underground.

Germany: Two knife-wielding Muslim men attacked and injured a Christian refugee from Syria in the streets of Berlin. According to the July 7 report, the victim, Kevork Almassian, who is of Armenian descent, had started receiving death threats a year ago, after “Syrian Islamist activist” Nahla Osman began accusing the Christian refugee of spreading “hate” through his work at a German magazine, which eventually capitulated to Islamist protests and fired Kevork.

Lebanon/Turkey: As a sign of growing Turkish influence, Neshan Der Haroutiounian, a Lebanese television host of Armenian descent, will stand trial in Lebanon for “insulting the Turkish president and the Turkish people,” apparently in the context of the Ottoman Empire’s genocide of Armenians. At one point during the live show he accused someone (unclear if a caller in or panelist) who was accusing him of being a dishonest troublemaker of being “A son of a million malicious people … Erdogan, the regime, the Ottomans, and the Turks.” Turkey’s authorities responded by calling on the Lebanese Foreign Ministry to take measures against the television host; the Turkish Embassy mobilized protesters in front of the television station. They “raised Turkish flags, chanted slogans in support of the Ottoman Empire and Erdogan and called on Al Jadeed TV and those in charge of the programme to ‘apologise for what happened.’” The Beirut public prosecutor responded by announcing that charges would be filed against Haroutiounian, who is scheduled to stand trial in October. The report notes:

A Lebanese journalist, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said that there were no grounds for the judicial charges against Der Haroutiounian. “This is a matter of a historical dispute that has no prospect, knowing that it is about a great crime against the Armenian people — a crime that Turkey refuses to recognise. This in itself continues to provoke Armenians wherever they are,” the journalist told The Arab Weekly…. Some Lebanese Armenians’ harsh criticism of Turkey seems to embarrass Lebanese authorities, who have tried to intimidate them into observing certain ‘red lines.’ There are numerous external forces pressuring Lebanon, starting with Iranian proxy Hezbollah. Turkey is now attempting to curb Lebanon’s hard-fought freedoms, of which its citizens are rightly proud, by also exerting pressure on Lebanese authorities.

Egypt: A Christian wife and mother who disappeared for nearly three months—supposedly because she had willingly converted to Islam and no longer wanted any connection to her “infidel” husband and three young daughters—was finally returned to her family. Ranya ‘Abd al-Masih, 39, a high school teacher of English had disappeared on April 22. A few days after her family contacted state security, she appeared in a one minute video dressed in a black niqab (female Islamic attire). In the video, and in between tears, Ranya insisted that she had finally and formally converted to Islam, which—“praise be to Allah”—she had been secretly following and concealing from her family for nine years. Accordingly, she no longer wanted anyone—her husband, children, family—to bother about her anymore. From the start, her family refused to believe the video and gave compelling reasons why. “We’ve no problem for her to go [to Islam] of her own free will—based on conviction—but not as a person who is threatened and coerced into doing so,” her brother, Remon, explained: “She was definitely kidnapped and forced to make that video, due to threats against her or her husband and children if she refused to comply.” For nearly three months, Ranya’s family and the Coptic Church pleaded with local authorities—even sending a special petition to President Sisi—until she was finally returned, on July 15. A Christian spokesman said that Ranya and her reunited family are currently staying in an undisclosed location, “until calm returns” to the region. Due to the delicate nature of the situation, the spokesman gave no other details concerning her disappearance and reemergence, other than to say that “Ranya remains a Christian who never once converted to Islam.”

Tunisia: A July 21 report sheds light on the “lack of full citizenship” rights and “societal stigmas” surrounding the Christians of arguably the world’s most tolerant Arab nation. According to its abstract:

Although Tunisia is usually presented as ethno-religiously homogenous when compared to other countries in the region, its minorities have long undergone a process of invisibilisation and/or assimilation into the dominant Arab-Muslim identity. Moving from a status of dhimmi [second class citizens] under Muslim empires … is the quest of Tunisia’s religious minorities for full citizenship still ongoing?… [T]he research shows that religious minorities, although having acquired a certain set of rights, still lack full citizenship to some extent and face societal stigma.

Raymond Ibrahim, author of the recent book, Sword and Scimitar, Fourteen Centuries of War between Islam and the West, is a Distinguished Senior Fellow at the Gatestone Institute, a Shillman Fellow at the David Horowitz Freedom Center, and a Judith Rosen Friedman Fellow at the Middle East Forum.

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic. Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed in 2011 to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that occur or are reported each month. It serves two purposes:

1) To document that which the mainstream media does not: the habitual, if not chronic, persecution of Christians.

2) To show that such persecution is not “random,” but systematic and interrelated—that it is rooted in a worldview inspired by Islamic Sharia.

#Islam #Muslim #Sharia #Jihad #Persecution #News #Politics #Media #Immigration #Legal #Law #Terror #Mosque #Religion

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

When You Least Expect It

Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin

Genre: enemies to lovers one-shot

Word Count: around 10,000 (yeah, I’m sorry)

Warnings: Smut (near the end) and Language

Summary: Changbin and Hanna had never gotten along, but they tolerated each other’s presence for the sake of their friends. However, when Hanna begs Changbin to teach her how to play the guitar, their relationship promises much more than hostile insults.

On Sundays, I liked to watch ridiculous Australian television shows with Chan and Felix. The two boys never seemed to mind, especially since the real reason I came over was to eat my way through their monthly supply of groceries. Plus, Chan and I used to fuck when we were still in high school and that boy owed me for all the free orgasms. “You watched Gumby in Australia?” I questioned, watching the disturbing animated character as it danced across the screen.

Felix shrugged. “It was fun as a kid.”

I unconsciously shivered, leaning in closer to Chan. “That’s seriously creepy.”

“You take what you can find,” Chan remarked, shoving another forkful of ramen into his mouth.

“I remember watching Teen Titans.”

“What was that?”

“Just some teenagers who had crazy superpowers,” I explained, reaching over to take another stick of beef jerky from Felix.

He hummed in acknowledgment, eyes still glued to the TV. Meanwhile, I could faintly hear the sound of the front door opening, but it wasn’t until he was standing in my line of vision that I actually bothered to look up. “Why are you always here?” Changbin growled, reaching down to swipe away the piece of jerky I had every intention of consuming.

“How inconsiderate,” I remarked, shifting closer to Chan with the hope that the older boy would take pity on me.

“You know what’s inconsiderate?” Changbin continued to complain. “Having you over here every morning to eat the food that I paid for!”

“I helped,” Chan grumbled, poking almost ruthlessly at his ramen breakfast.

“Changbin is just being rude,” I consoled him, pressing a tender kiss to his bare shoulder as Chan seemed to recently take a preference for wearing muscle tanks around the apartment.

“Look here, sweetheart,” Changbin growled, tone dripping with his barely concealed outrage. “You’re lucky I even let you come around here.”

I snorted because I definitely didn’t care about Changbin’s comfort. “You don’t bitch to Felix and he’s here more than me!”

“Felix actually contributes to the band,” Changbin tittered. “You don’t really do anything!”

“I keep the boys entertained,” I joked, digging my fingers into Chan’s side to wrench free one of his trademarked giggles.

“I like having Hanna around,” Felix protested, reaching over to cling onto my arm like an oversized koala.

I gave Changbin a smug grin, delighting in the way his eyes darkened further. He was far too easy to rile up and his quick-temper was fun to ignite when I was feeling in the mood. “Changbin,” I cooed. “Why don’t you like me?”

The younger boy was obviously not in the mood to play along, but it was still funny to watch him storm away with his fists clenched at his sides. “He’s too short to be intimidating,” I declared, settling back down with Chan and Felix to watch another one of Gumby’s whimsical adventures.

You see, I met Chan and Felix back in high school because of Hyunjin, my younger brother. And although Hyunjin would never admit it, he did his best to keep me away from his friends. “You’ll fall for Chan,” he explained when I asked why he continued to sneak the two Australians out the back door.

Of course, Hyunjin was right, and I eventually slept with Chan at a ridiculously cliche high school party. After that, we started dating for a while until we figured out being friends was a much better situation. Hyunjin was definitely grateful because he could finally have his older friend all to himself, but I still hung around whenever I could.

Chan and I also started university first, and it was nice to know someone because I was terrible at making friends. Thankfully, Chan introduced me to some guys he knew and Woojin and Minho became close confidants. They were mature and quirky, deciding we could have just as much fun with a few beers and a game of twister as opposed to those crowded fraternity parties. However, that didn’t necessarily mean I didn’t partake in the occasional late-night gathering, especially if campus icon Hyungwon had anything to say about it.

Nevertheless, when Hyunjin and Felix started school with Chan and me, things took on a new and interesting dynamic when they discovered an audition sheet for a new band. Apparently, the group was relatively new and were looking for singers and performers to join. Thereafter, we were all invited into the chaotic world of music with a strange introduction from Jisung, Jeongin, Seungmin, and, of course, Changbin.

Now, I wasn’t musically talented in any sense so I chose to merely accompany the boys to their frequent practices in the garage of Jisung’s house. Despite his parent’s constant bombardment, it was cool to have a place far away from campus to hang out and I enjoyed interacting with the others. I found myself growing closer to the other boys, even though we hadn’t known each other for very long.

However, despite our new acquaintanceship, I still had not managed to charm Seo Changbin the same way I had with the others. I was convinced the younger boy hated me, so I tried to stay out of his way. I mean, who would want to deal with his constant mood changes or annoying laugh anyway?

“I’ve got something brilliant!” Chan interrupted my darkening thoughts as he barged into Jisung’s basement waving about several loose sheets of papers. “This one will give us a hit for sure!”

I was the first to take a look, snatching them right out of Changbin’s hands who merely glowered at me in response. “Matroshyka?”

“Exactly!” Chan exclaimed, jabbing the sheets of paper aggressively before he sat down on the edge of the couch. “What do you think?”

I nodded my agreement. “It’s really good.”

Chan beamed under my praise while I relented the sheet music to a fuming Changbin. I walked over to Woojin, inviting myself into his comfortable lap, encouraging him to wrap his hands around my waist. “How long did you stay up last night, Chan?”

I studied the dark circles under Chan’s eyes as the older boy shook his head. “It wasn’t that late!”

“It’s fantastic,” Changbin gasped, immediately racing over to their elaborate set-up of sound equipment.

“Really?” Jisung perked up, tossing aside his notebook as he joined Changbin.

Meanwhile, Chan reclined back against the couch, folding his arms behind his head. “I’m a genius.”

“That isn’t exactly your style, Chan,” I laughed, feeling Woojin chuckling from beneath me.

“This is genius though!” Jisung insisted, running his hands through his crazy dark blue hair.

“We should record it tonight,” Changbin added. “Who did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Chan started sheepishly, suddenly shy despite his earlier confidence. “I thought it could be me, you, and Jisung.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready!” Jisung fretted, and I fought the urge to walk over and invite him into my arms. Jisung lacked in self-confidence, but I always tried to brighten his mood.

“We’ll do a practice run,” Changbin nodded as if he could already hear the finished product given the ridiculous way he bopped his head.

“This is exciting!” Jeongin added the youngest rushing over to Seungmin to yank out his earphones. “We’re recording tonight!”

I yawned, tuning out their adorable gushing as I considered the amount of homework I had to finish. I couldn’t stay tonight, but I wasn’t really needed anyway. And it would probably make Changbin happy.

Woojin immediately protested when I left his lap, reaching down for my bag. “You guys have fun tonight. I have a Chemistry paper due this Friday.”

“But Hanna,” Jisung pouted. “This is our first real recording.”

“And you’ll do great,” I said, adding a cheesy thumbs-up.

“Less room for her to get in the way,” Changbin grunted and I glared in his direction.

What an asshole.

Of course, it turns out that taking my English essay to the library instantly became the best decision of my life! And it was in large part due to the incredibly handsome library assistant who casually flirted with me as he helped me find all the books I needed from the list I jotted down before leaving my dorm. I was practically salivating when he asked if I could use any help writing the annoying assignment. I immediately acquiesced and spent the next several hours in literal heaven next to an actual angel. Not only did I finish my essay, but I also managed to score myself a coffee date the next morning.

Subsequently, I returned to the dorm late that evening which meant I allowed myself to sleep-in the following day. Usually, I never ignored texts from the boys, but I also didn’t want them to ruin my morning. After all, I was meeting with a man with whom I was 95% sure I would marry very soon, even if that meant a shotgun wedding at a chapel in Las Vegas.

At least, until I opened my big mouth.

Here’s some advice: just because a literal angel tells you that he knows how to play the guitar doesn’t mean you should also admit the same skillset. As it turns out, you don’t have to share everything in common with a potential partner. But I was enamored, and I spent several minutes talking about the really cool band I was apart of even though I knew Changbin would rather drink chlorine than admit I was a member of their silly boy group.

“You should come over and we can play together,” my angel said, and that’s when I knew I was doomed.

After we parted ways, I sought after Chan because I knew the older boy had been practicing guitar and maybe he would be kind enough to teach me a few chords. However, when I finished explaining the situation to him, Chan started laughing hysterically, pointing a finger at me as he incoherently tried to form a sentence. “What’s so funny?” Woojin asked as he entered Chan’s bedroom.

“Apparently my love life?” I grumbled, glaring at Chan as if that could possibly intimidate the older boy in the slightest.

After filling in Woojin, and a mischievous Jisung, I had to listen to the three of them cackle like old men who insisted on making a “joke” far funnier than it actually was. “Will you help me!” I pouted when Chan started to settle back down.

“I haven’t played in years,” Chan admitted, glancing back at Jisung. “What about you?”

“I’m really not that good,” Jisung shrugged. “But I know Changbin can play.”

“I’d rather deal with your mediocre skills than ask him. Actually, you could literally rip my fingernails off and I still wouldn’t ask Changbin.”

Jisung wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross.”

“The point is,” I reiterated, flailing my arms to regain their attention. “I can’t ask Changbin.”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “He’s really good and I don’t think he’d mind teaching you.”

I looked at Chan like the older boy had suddenly gained an additional head. “Are you serious? Changbin hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Woojin added. “He just sort of tolerates you.”

As if that was any better, but I was desperate, which is why I found myself lingering outside Changbin’s bedroom. I cleared my throat as I rehearsed my practiced speech: “Listen, Changbin, I’m really proud of everything that you’ve done with the group. In fact, I think it might be nice to be more supportive! Maybe if I could learn an instrument, I might be able to relate more to the music? How about teaching me to play the guitar?”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I dismissed my planned verbiage, choosing instead to knock hesitantly on the door. “What?” an annoyed voice called out, slightly muffled by the walls.

“I need a favor,” I said, fidgeting with my hands and fully expecting Changbin to ignore me completely.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the sight of an obviously exhausted Seo Changbin opening the door only wearing a dark pair of low-hanging sweatpants. “Why are you here?” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his dark eyes.

I immediately shielded my gaze, trying to ignore the flare of interest after scanning down the broad expanse of his chest. “Put some clothes on!”

“This is my apartment,” Changbin retorted, very much unimpressed with me as he stepped out of the doorway. “I was sleeping.”

“Sorry,” I huffed, stepping inside his messy room. A complete disaster, if you ask me, with weird grunge rock band posters decorating the walls and a carpet made of clothes since he obviously doesn’t own a laundry basket. “I have a proposal.”

“What?” he grunted.

“I want to learn how to play the guitar and Chan said you were pretty good.”

Changbin was quiet for a moment. “Why the hell do you want to play the guitar?”

I felt my cheeks heat up, but thankfully my hands were still hiding my face. “Is that really your business?”

“Careful sweetheart, you need me, remember?”

I cursed his arrogance. “Fine, I want to learn because the guy I like can play.”

“You’re trying to learn guitar to impress another dude?” Changbin chuckled. “Isn’t that too much?”

“You wanted to know why!”

“What will you do for me in return, sweetheart? I remember hearing something about a proposal?”

“Of course, because it would be too much for you to help out a friend,” I muttered, finally removing my hands so that I could look him in the eye. Thankfully, Changbin was hunched over, somewhat hiding his naked chest from my sight. “I’ll stop coming here in the mornings to eat your damn groceries, okay?”

Changbin brightened. “Deal.”

It was likely the first time we ever agreed on something so easily.

“I booked the music room in the library for the week,” I told him. “We can practice there.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he sighed, falling back on his bed. “Now leave me alone. I still have an hour left before our second recording.”

Ignoring his dismissive attitude, I still held tight to the small victory I had attained in our agreement. I was a decently fast learner, so I planned for a few lessons with Changbin before I was ready to play with Hyungsik, A.K.A, the beautiful librarian who had left a memorable impression. That evening, I went to the music store and rented an acoustic guitar for my impromptu lessons. I also purchased one of those Dummy books because, despite the obvious condescension, they were pretty helpful guides.

I stayed up late that night reading through the book, nodding my head as I realized that it wouldn’t be too difficult at all. In fact, with some practice, I could have probably taught myself this stuff without Changbin’s assistance. “This is too easy,” I remarked, setting aside the book before allowing tender dreams of Hyungsik to soothe me into sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is the first fret,” Changbin droned monotonously while I resisted the urge to reach over and shake him because he was going way too slow. After all, I told him beforehand that I had been reading some very extensive literature on the guitar. He must have ignored me because he started from the beginning with the basic foundational stuff that even a first grader could have learned.

“Come on, Changbin,” I urged him. “I already know all this stuff.”

“It’s important to memorize the chords-”

“Yeah, but when are we going to play a song?”

His accompanying smirk was positively evil. “I thought you wanted me to teach you, sweetheart?”

“How to play songs!” I emphasized, because how deaf was this boy? I needed to remind Chan to keep Changbin out of the recording booth for a few days.

“You have to learn the basics before you can play a song,” Changbin went on, ignoring the way I rolled my eyes at his deliberate reprimand.

“I read the book already,” I sighed, deliberating whether or not it was too late to beg Chan or Jisung instead.

“Alright,” Changbin said, abruptly shoving the instrument in my direction. “Play me a C Major chord.”

Rolling my eyes, I pictured the image of the chord in my head, slowly working my fingers onto the strings. “This is what the book said.”

“It told you to crowd your fingers onto the same fret?”

“To play the B string, the D string, and the A string.”

“Okay, but your fingers aren’t positioned correctly.”

“This is what the book said!”

“I’m sure it did,” Changbin managed, openly laughing at me as if I had started speaking a foreign language. “But your fingers aren’t on the correct frets, and they aren’t holding down the strings enough.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Changbin smirked, jerking the guitar away from my eager hands. “This is why you should watch me first, sweetheart. You might actually learn something useful.”

I resisted the urge to snap back at him because I was still 90% certain that I had been correct, but instead, I chose to fume quietly while Changbin resumed his lecture. Honestly, I endured enough of those on a daily basis with my college courses. The last thing I needed was Changbin’s nasally voice instructing me on the difference between E Minor and E Major, whatever the hell that means.

“Look Changbin,” I finally interrupted him. “Can’t you at least teach me a song?”

“What kind of song?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

“Something romantic,” I briefly gushed, reaching over to shake his arm excitedly. “I really want to impress this guy.”

Changbin’s look of curiosity was replaced with one of revulsion. “Who is this guy, anyway? I don’t understand why you already like him so much.”

“We’re getting to know one another,” I insisted petulantly. “You wouldn’t understand. You’ve never even had a girlfriend before.”

Changbin quietly looked down, and I was slightly taken aback by the dark look that had briefly obscured his gaze. “Whatever song you want.”

I cleared my throat, a little unnerved by his unexpected behavior. “Just play something you know best.”

A familiar riff filled the tense silence between us. I snapped my fingers in recognition. “Stairway to Heaven?”

“It’s really easy,” Changbin shrugged, focused on his playing. “It was the first thing I ever learned how to play on the guitar.”

“It’s nice,” I admitted sheepishly.

I strangely found Changbin endearing at that moment, watching him play as if there was nowhere else in the entire world he would rather be…

—————————————————-

Two Weeks Later

“My fingers hurt,” I pouted, presenting Chan with the sight of my blistered hands.

“Poor baby,” he teased, sprinkling tiny kisses across the delicate skin of my fingertips.

“That’s just gross,” Seungmin complained from where he was lying across Jeongin’s lap, eyes rapidly scanning over the pages of his most recent novel obsession.

It had something to do with a stalker.

“They used to fuck,” Jisung stated bluntly, ripping into his package of skittles, cursing when a few wayward candies fell into the floor.

“Don’t remind me,” Hyunjin whined as he covered his eyes with his hands as if burdened with a mental image of Chan and me together.

“Who fucked up your hands?” Woojin asked protectively, ignoring the previous topic of my coital actions with Chan.

“It’s from fretting the guitar,” I said a bit smugly, proud of my newfound knowledge. “Changbin is teaching me how to play.”

“Why the hell are you learning guitar?” Seungmin asked.

“Forget that!” Jeongin interjected. “How did you convince Changbin to teach you?”

“Tell me you didn’t agree to have sex with him!” Hyunjin gasped, bolting upright from his previous position on the couch to confront me, hands grasping my face tightly.

“What’s wrong with you?” I muttered, pushing aside Hyunjin’s wayward touch. “Why would I have sex with Changbin?”

“I thought he-”

“Hey!” Jisung suddenly interrupted, clapping his hands together rather obnoxiously. He gave Hyunjin a meaningful look, one that I could not begin to decipher. But I also didn’t really care because the two of them made for a strange duo. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes!” Minho finally spoke up, rolling onto the floor to glance up at me through long lashes. “Let’s talk about Hanna’s new boyfriend.”

I brightened at the suggestion. “Hyungsik?”

“Hyungsik,” Minho repeated with a poor impression of my accent. “Tell me, have the two of you fucked yet?”

“Why are ya’ll so interested in sex?” Seungmin asked, slamming his book closed before knocking it against Jeongin’s chest.

“Why? Do you like Hyungsik too?”

Seungmin didn’t hesitate to fling the innocent chapter book in Minho’s direction. The older boy dodged easily, returning his attention to our previous subject. “Well?”

“Not yet,” I admitted with a shrug. “But there’s a party tonight.”

“Hyungwon’s party?” Chan asked, suddenly remembering that he was also apart of the conversation.

“That’s the one!” I agreed, patting the side of his face. “Aren’t you going?”

“Maybe,” Chan shrugged. “Actually, Changbin invited me earlier.”

“Changbin at a party?” Hyunjin scoffed. “Did he produce the music?”

I laughed at my brother’s witty remark. “I always pictured Changbin as the type to fall asleep drooling on his sheet music. Since when has he ever been interested in frat parties?”

“Since when have you?” Hyunjin randomly questioned, as if remembering that he was my younger brother and should probably discourage such illicit activities.

“You could come too,” I joked. “You’ll give all the pretty boys a run for their money.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

---------------------------------------------

Nonetheless, my younger brother could never resist the promise of free alcohol.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Hyunjin whined as I drove the two of us to Hyungwon’s fraternity.

“You need to get laid,” I reminded him, locating a parking spot further down the busy street, congested with student vehicles. “This place is fucking insane.”

“Yet another reminder of why I should have stayed at the studio,” Hyunjin continued.

“Relax,” I said. “Changbin is supposed to be here with Chan. Find your friends and show them how an amateur dances to 90s EDM music.”

I squealed when Hyunjin reached across the center console to slap my arm. “You’re not funny.”

“And you’re slow,” I shot back.

The party had started nearly half-an-hour ago, which meant we were fashionably late and way too sober. I carefully pulled into the parking spot I located earlier, grumbling because I was forced to parallel park. But I was also impatient to find Hyungsik.

“Hold on!”

“It’s your fault if you don’t keep up,” I said, reaching down to unzip my jacket to reveal the rather inappropriate blouse that I had chosen for the evening’s affairs.

Hyunjin finally caught up to me as I carefully took the steps leading up to the front door of Hyungwon’s fraternity, teetering precariously on my 4-inch high heels. Despite the fact that the sun had only started to set, I could already spot familiar red cups decorating the banister rails. Kihyun’s going to lose his shit when he discovers this mess in the morning.

“Changbin and Chan are somewhere in the kitchen finding drinks,” Hyunjin informed me. “Can you spare a few more moments away from your sweetheart?”

“For Channie, yes,” I agreed, allowing Hyunjin to act the part of a gentleman and hold the door for me, allowing the blaring music to spill outside into the slowly darkening evening.

Hyunjin and I did our best to avoid the main floor where the drunk Freshmen were already losing their inhibitions. We slowly skimmed the outer edge of the wall, spotting the open kitchen where a much calmer atmosphere prevailed. Chan was the first to spot us, pointing over Changbin’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Trying to avoid a literal mess,” I grinned, wrapping my arms tightly around Chan’s neck. “Did you find something good to drink?”

“Not really,” Chan grimaced. “There’s a punch bowl, but that shit smells like gasoline.”

“Live a little,” I joked, peeking at Changbin out of the corner of my peripheral vision. “I’m surprised you came, Changbin.”

The younger shrugged, picking at a loose string on his black t-shirt. “I like Hyungwon.”

“Really?” I snorted because I was almost positive Changbin didn’t even really like his own bandmates.

“Hyunjin!” a shrill voice punctured our small oasis. I saw my brother grimace as a petite blonde came into his line of his vision. “I can’t believe you came.”

Changbin chuckled from my brother’s side. “He knew you were going to be here, Mina.”

“Hyunjin,” the girl giggled, as if ignorant to my brother’s obvious disgust like he was looking at the personification of Evil.

“You two should dance,” I suggested, deciding to tease my brother. After all, he was the one who often bragged about his superior choreography.

“Hanna,” Hyunjin addressed me, slugging me rather harshly across my shoulder. “I thought you wanted to dance with me?”

“I’ll dance with Channie,” I countered, feeling nothing short of victorious when my brother scowled, reluctantly allowing Mina to drag him away from our small gathering.

“How do they know each other?” I asked.

“She leaves cute notes on Hyunjin’s desk in our economics lecture,” Changbin said, leaning in closer. “I think she might like your brother.”

Changbin’s close proximity was unexpected, especially given my body’s peculiar reaction, practically drawn to the mischievous glimmer to his dilated irises. “Is that so?”

“Her older sister is a total bitch,” Chan remarked, ignorant to the strange tension between Changbin and me.

I tore myself from Changbin’s hypnotic stare. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Chan shrugged. “Where’s your precious new boyfriend?”

I let out a gasp as I suddenly remembered Hyungsik. “I should find him and introduce you.”

“Thrilling,” Changbin grumbled, pulling back to offer the cheaply tiled kitchen floor a dirty glare.

“I’ll try and find him. You two wait here.”

———————————————————————–

My endeavors at impressive sleuthing were cut short, however, when I found Hyungsik talking in animated conversation with two of his friends. I couldn’t resist a smile as I pushed my way through the unwavering sea of students to reach him. Unfortunately, as I grew closer, I realized that he was swaying slightly, eyes unfocused as he took a long drink from his bright red cup. “Hyungsik!”

“Hanna!” the older boy exclaimed, meeting me halfway at the edge of the growing crowd. “You made it!”

His breath fanned across my face and I wrinkled my nose upon smelling the unpleasant waft of alcohol. “You’re already drunk?” I lamented, feeling a tad bit disappointed. There was no way I could introduce Hyungsik to Changbin and Chan in this condition. They would mock me for such a first impression.

Hyungsik offered me a flirtatious grin. “I think the punch was spiked.”

Nevertheless, I refused to have my evening spoiled so prematurely by my potential boyfriend’s immaturity. “Let’s dance,” I offered instead, taking Hyungsik’s eager hand and leading him to the middle of the dance floor.

I guided his sweaty palms to either side of my waist, expertly rocking my hips to the beat of the music. Hyungsik let out an uncharacteristic yell as he pulled me closer to his body, allowing more of the alcohol smell to completely blind my senses. “Are you having fun?” he shouted into my ear.

I was too young to lose my hearing.

And I gave up on Hyungsik the moment his hands started to trail messily across my backside, tossing his head from side to side like an incompetent rock musician who was well past his prime. “Come on,” I sighed, jerking away from his touch.

I decided it was time to help Hyungsik sober up from his premature alcohol consumption. I knew that Hyungwon allowed guests to stay in some of the empty rooms upstairs. My best option would be to lead Hyungsik to one of those rooms and let him sleep off his drunken stupor.

“Weee!” Hyungsik giggled as he fell on top of the bed, letting out a grunt as he collapsed on his front.

“Yeah, what a great fucking time,” I muttered sarcastically as I yanked his shoes from his feet, allowing them to messily fall into the floor.

I made sure to leave Hyungsik a glass of water and two Ibuprofen before turning out the light. I was a good Samaritan, even when the recipient of my good graces happened to be a potential love interest who totally ruined my Saturday night and left me feeling completely deflated. Of course, I guess it wasn’t exactly Hyungsik’s fault since he was apparently unaccustomed to the ridiculous tradition of avoiding the provided alcohol at frat parties. Still, I was far more likely to kick Hyungwon’s ass tomorrow morning in our Chemistry lecture, if he could manage to drag himself to class with a nasty hangover.

Satisfied with Hyungsik’s condition, I slowly closed the bedroom door behind me, letting out an exasperated sigh. I should’ve known better than to expect a decent lay from a fraternity party. What the actual hell was I even thinking? However, my self-loathing was temporarily forgotten when I spotted a shadow lingering around the corner of the hallway. I perked up instantly, eliminating the short distance to confront whoever had decided to stalk me when I was obviously upset.

“Changbin?” I questioned and he paused in his obvious attempt to sneak away. “Did you follow me up here?”

Changbin cleared his throat as he pivoted around to face me. “I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do that?” I asked, taking another step closer. I was surprised to see an unfamiliar brush coloring the narrow aspect of Changbin’s cheeks. “Did you think I was going to sleep with him?”

“He was drunk,” Changbin offered as a retort. “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“Trust me,” I scoffed, “he was too far gone to do anything to me.”

“But you wanted him too,” Changbin said, an unfamiliar rasp in his tone.

“Not really,” I shrugged. “I was mad that he was already drunk.”

Changbin let out an uncharacteristic giggle that I found alarmingly adorable. “You should know that your brother is currently dancing on top of the kitchen counter.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hope someone takes a good video. He deserves the embarrassment.”

Changbin nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Are you going to leave?”

“Probably,” I said. “I need to get Hyunjin home.”

“I can help if you want?” Changbin offered, and I was quick to accept his assistance.

“Is Chan still here?” I asked him as I guided our way through the maze of intoxicated students.

“Chan left a while ago,” Changbin said, one hand reaching out to hold onto my shoulder as I led us into the kitchen where an obvious crowd had started to circle around my idiot brother.

I forced my way to the front. “Hyunjin, get your ass down here right now!”

Hyunjin glanced down at me from the pedestal he had made of Hyungwon’s marble countertop. He squinted his eyes as if he couldn’t quite discern who I was. “Hanna?”

“Yes, you asshole,” I growled, yanking at his ridiculously tight skinny jeans. “If you want a ride home, then I suggest you stop acting like a complete fuckboy.”

Hyunjin seemed to sober up at my reprimand. “Sorry,” he slurred, falling into my arms.

“Hyunjin, you weigh twice as much as me,” I grunted, whispering a quick ‘thank you’ to Changbin when he offered to burden most of Hyunjin’s dead weight.

“You guys are the best,” Hyunjin said, rubbing his sweaty hair against the side of my face as we were abruptly hit with a cold rush of air from the outside.

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, shifting Hyunjin’s arm around my shoulder as Changbin and I proceeded to drag my brother’s drunk ass two blocks to my abandoned car.

———————————————————————-

“Thanks for helping,” I said, tucking the blankets up higher on Hyunjin’s chest. “You can spend the night if you want. I don’t mind sleeping in my roommate’s bed if you want the futon?”

Changbin nodded, perhaps too enthusiastically. Nonetheless, I found a spare blanket and pillow in the shared closet, giving them to Changbin as a makeshift bed. I knew the futon was rather uncomfortable, but it was only for one night. Plus, I felt better knowing that Changbin wouldn’t have to walk across campus in the middle of the night by himself. Despite our frequent disagreements, he was one of my brother’s best friends, and I had started to grow closer to him thanks to our unorthodox guitar lessons.

However, the last thing I expected after settling into my roommate’s twin-sized bed was to have an entertaining exchange with Changbin:

“Do you still want a lesson tomorrow?” he asked me.

“Yeah, I managed to avoid the alcohol.”

“Will you ever let Hyunjin forget the party?”

“There’s no way in hell,” I replied, grinning at the dark ceiling.

“You want the video I took of him on my phone?”

“I would literally like nothing more.”

Fuck, were we actually getting along?

————————————————————————

“Wake up, asshole,” I grinned, curtaining my brother’s t-shirt across his face. Hyunjin let out a groan. “What happened?”

“You drank too much and decided to show off for everybody,” I said, sitting down next to him on my bed. “Would you like to watch the video?”

“Fuck you.”

“Perhaps later then?”

Changbin stepped closer, looking unusually good in his dark jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. “Should we let him sleep?”

“Please,” Hyunjin groaned.

“My roommate won’t be back until tomorrow, so Hyunjin should be fine here for a while.”

Changbin pursed his lips, rocking back on his feet. “Well…”

“Do you feel like getting a cup of coffee?”

Changbin and I were both taken aback by my request.

“That sounds nice,” he said quietly, appearing unusually shy as he refused to meet my gaze.

Changbin and I ensured that Hyunjin would wake up to powerful painkillers before walking together to the quaint coffee shop nestled at the end of the block. “Should I treat you?” I asked. “I feel bad that you had to drag my brother’s sorry ass from the party.”

Changbin chuckled. “Hyunjin’s my friend, and I did get some decent video footage for my troubles.”

I laughed as I recalled the short clip of my brother rather unattractively swiveling his hips to a poor remix of a popular K-Pop idol song. Perhaps in another life, Hyunjin could have made a decent performer. However, given the intoxicated component to his impromptu show, I supposed he might have been laughed out of his audition.

“Vanilla latte please,” I smiled pleasantly at the cashier whose blood-shot eyes clearly exposed her late-night activities.

“I’ll have the same.”

“Are you copying me?”

“You have good taste,” Changbin said, and I paused as I processed his words.

Was he flirting with me?

Pushing that ridiculous notion aside, I found us a small table amidst the busy college students furiously working on the essays they had spent the weekend neglecting. It reminded me that I had also put off my Chemistry lab report for far too long. Yet, the idea of balancing equations of which I had the faintest understanding was incredibly unappealing.

The sweet scent of vanilla was preferable, and I sipped at the warm beverage greedily. “Why did Chan leave so early?”

“I sort of ditched him,” Changbin admitted.

“Why?” I asked. “I mean, I know Chan can be dull, but he’s better than the majority of those people.”

Changbin shrugged. “I was trying to find Hyunjin.”

“My brother is clueless sometimes,” I said, mindlessly watching the steam rise from my cup. “I didn’t expect him to go that far.”

“He’s never been that drunk before,” Changbin added.

“No more parties for Hyunjin.”

“What about you?” Changbin inquired, a not-so-innocent look drawn across his features.

“Me?”

“Hyungwon’s parties are always like that,” Changbin scoffed. “Your precious boyfriend should have taken you on a proper date.”

“Changbin!” I laughed, reaching over to take his hand. “You’re actually being considerate for once.”

“Call it a hangover.”

“Or,” I started with a teasing lilt. “Maybe you like me just a little?”

Changbin glanced down at our hands. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

I pulled my hand away, surprised by his strange confession. “Changbin, I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s not you,” he insisted, struggling for the right words. “Look, Hanna, I want you to know that I don’t really care if you’re at our apartment.”

“But you always say-”

“-I know,” Changbin growled, clearly frustrated with himself. “Hanna, I need to tell you something.”

I nodded as a silent encouragement for him to continue. However, before Changbin could utter another syllable, his concentrated gaze had shifted, pointedly narrowing at something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and let out a curse when I saw Hyungsik approaching.

“You have to forgive me!” Hyungsik immediately apologized, inserting himself between Changbin and I. Shaking my head, I had every intention of ordering him to leave after the melodrama that had happened last night.

But Hyungsik was persuasive, gently nudging a chocolate muffin in front of my coffee before flashing a dazzling smile in my direction. I swear my heart actually stopped beating for several seconds. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave your apartment,” he admitted, ignoring Changbin’s glare as he pulled out a chair from the adjoining table.

I glanced back and forth between Hyungsik and Changbin. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled about last night.”

“It’s my fault,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have trusted the liquor.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Maybe two cups?”

Fuck you, Hyungwon.

“It was spiked,” I said quietly, even though it was probably now obvious in hindsight.

“I know,” Hyungsik murmured, fingers slowly gliding across the tabletop to brush against mine. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Maybe,” I grinned, already knowing I would give in because I loved the way my heart played to a different beat around him.

“How about this Friday night? We could see a movie?”

“I’d like that.”

Hyungsik nodded, bashfully allowing his long bangs to frame his eyes. “You won’t regret this.”

——————————————————————

The following Friday, I tried to distract myself from my impending movie date with Hyungsik by requesting another guitar lesson from Changbin. “It’s early,” the younger snapped into the phone.

“I’m already in the library,” I said, running my hand along the smooth edges of my guitar.

Changbin let out a noise of frustration. “Give me twenty minutes.”

The wait was well worth it when Changbin showed up wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, hair betraying the fact that he had obviously just rolled out of bed. “What a concept,” I remarked.

Changbin dropped his guitar case on top of our table. “Shut up.”

Thereafter, our lesson progressed smoothly, Changbin introducing me to a new series of complicated chords that only brought an immense feeling of satisfaction when I eventually mastered them. “I’m a quick learner,” I bragged in response to the impressed look on his face.

“Maybe when you can play an entire song,” Changbin grumbled, plucking at the strings of his own Savannah model guitar.

“What songs have you been working on?” I asked conversationally as I started to re-case my guitar.

“Nothing much,” Changbin said, fingers hovering around the fretboard.

“You could always play me something,” I suggested. “I’m a good listener.”

Changbin seemed to hesitate as if experiencing internal conflict, before nodding once. “I don’t want to hear any bullshit when I’m done,” he reproached snappishly, temper flaring once again.

I resisted the urge to offer a witty retort. Instead, I patiently waited as he re-adjusted the guitar in his lap, propping the curve onto his thigh. Changbin’s elegant playing soon filled the empty study room, gentle triad chords forming an unfamiliar melody. It was pleasant all the same, but I was still surprised to hear Changbin start to sing.

Several lines of elegantly arranged lyrics that felt strangely familiar.

“That’s beautiful, Changbin,” I complimented the younger when he finished playing, enjoying his accompanying blush. “The lyrics are really personal. Did you write them about somebody?”

Changbin froze, fingers halting their movements against the strings as a wave of frightening anger settled into his features. He stood at once, rushing to pack up his guitar, shoulders tense as he worked. “I think we’ve done enough today,” he finally said, ignoring my protests.

And I could do nothing to change his mind.

——————————————————————————–

I was still shaken from my encounter with Changbin when I met Hyungsik that evening. The air between us was strangely awkward as we stood in tense silence for our tickets. It was probably my fault because I had been in a really bad mood ever since I left the study room earlier, clueless as to why I had upset Changbin. Nevertheless, I was grateful when we finally entered the theatre because it gave our unusual quietness justification when the title credits started to roll down the screen.

What was going on? Why did I feel so guilty?

It was only once we were halfway through the film that I realized I had no idea what was actually happening. The entirety of my attention had been focused on Changbin, unable to think about anything else other than the curious puzzle he had made of our last encounter together. Why had he acted that way?

After the film ended, Hyungsik and I walked outside together. “Are you alright, Hanna?” he asked sweetly, eyes full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him, even as the lie sat heavy in the pit of my stomach.

We went for coffee afterward, and I refused Hyungsik’s generosity, offering to buy our coffees in return for the movie tickets. “I don’t mind,” he had said, but I brushed him aside without really meaning to.

Hyungsik went to find us a table as I waited for our order, glancing nervously at the clock when I realized it was still pretty early. Was I about to ruin my chances with him? I wondered as I brought our coffees to the small booth by the window. Hyungsik took his order gratefully while I wordlessly sat down across from him. Did I even really care that this might be our first and last date?

“Open mic,” he said, snapping me to attention.

I followed his gaze to the stage. “Do you want to play?”

He smirked. “Only if you play with me.”

Of course, the whole reason why I started my lessons with Changbin was for this exact moment. So, I allowed Hyungsik to drag me to the stage, handing me an unfamiliar guitar as we occupied two of the stools lining the edge of the wooden platform. “What should we play?”

“Something easy,” he said, riffing a familiar tune that I was able to easily follow, despite the strange sensation that something was clearly amiss.

It wasn’t the same without Changbin.

“You play really well,” Hyungsik complimented me, sighing when I didn’t respond. “Let’s go outside for some air.”

I readily agreed to his suggestion, abandoning our instruments as we greeted the cool night air. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I had a really bad day.”

Hyungsik shrugged while letting out a sigh. “It’s alright, Hanna, I can tell when a girl isn’t into me.”

I perked up at his insinuation. “That’s not true-”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “You don’t have to force something between us.”

I sighed in defeat. “I don’t know what happened.”

“People change,” Hyungsik said. “Feelings change too, sometimes we don’t even realize how we really feel until it’s too late.”

------------------------------------------

Hyungsik’s advice haunted me for the rest of the evening, to the point where I could excuse my mindlessness as overthinking our earlier encounter. I was also acting completely out of character, something that Han Jisung was more than willing to take advantage of to benefit himself.

You see, I wasn’t a big fan of offering my extensive knowledge to the younger guys, but Jisung was always astute when it came to taking advantage of our dynamic. I knew he, of all people, would understand what was going on between me and Changbin. Which is why I found myself reacting to the plea for help he sent out several minutes ago via a long, convoluted text message.

“Changbin was weird today,” I later told Jisung, having agreed to proofread the younger’s English assignment.

“Hmm?” he asked distractedly, fingers tracing along with the words in his textbook.

“He played me a song,” I said. “I guess it’s supposed to be for your next album? It was really beautiful, but he was mad when I asked him if he wrote the lyrics for someone.”

Jisung glanced up at that, quirking an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I didn’t mean to offend him,” I shrugged, carding my fingers through my hair worriedly.

“Do you remember the lyrics?”

I recalled them easily and Jisung let out an unnecessarily exaggerated sigh, looking at me like I was the one having trouble with homework. “You’re completely deaf, you know.”

I frowned at the insult. “Excuse me?”

“He wrote that song about you, idiot,” Jisung scoffed. “Changbin likes you.”

I blinked twice. “What?”

“Changbin likes you,” Jisung repeated, slamming his book closed. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I’m really fed up with the way he looks at you like you broke his favorite toy. Which is his probably his electric guitar, thanks for asking.”

“Changbin doesn’t like me,” I frowned, soaking in the absurdity of Jisung’s claim. “I mean, if I suddenly went missing tomorrow, I doubt he would even notice.”

“Oh, he would definitely notice,” Jisung said. “Then again, if you did disappear for a while, then I wouldn’t have to deal with him brooding in the middle of the studio floor while I’m trying to work.”

“That’s impossible,” I insisted, even as I wavered in consideration of his claim. Because Jisung didn’t lie about these kinds of things. Seungmin? Perhaps, especially if it was for some practical joke. But Jisung? “Why tell me now?”

“I’m telling you because you’re flirting with this Hyungsik guy and Changbin hates it. You think he wrote that song because he just felt like it? Music has always been Changbin’s way of dealing with his emotions.”

“He should have told me,” I said, suddenly feeling a barrage of guilt because I really had no idea that the younger actually reserved feelings for me. Did that mean his hateful comments were actually a way to shield his true feelings? Because they had certainly gotten worse after I introduced Hyungsik.

“When would he have told you?” Jisung asked. “While you were still constantly talking about how much you liked another guy?”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?” I frowned.

“I’m trying to tell you the truth,” Jisung tsked. “It’s up to you to decide what you do with it.”

——————————————————————————-

I didn’t bother knocking on the basement door. Instead, I knew it was better to approach Changbin unexpectedly. Because then he wouldn’t have some sort of rehearsed speech ready to counter my interruption.

“Hanna?” Changbin immediately questioned as I slowly walked up to his desk. “What are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t have lied to me, Binnie,” I grinned, enjoying the way his mouth fell open upon hearing the nickname.

I leaned back against the desk, studying the way Changbin’s expression had morphed into one of complete disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“You should know,” I teased him, carefully easing his chair back away from the desk, the small wheels on the bottom rolling across the linoleum floor.

I decided to act before either of us had time to think.

I straddled Changbin’s lap, encouraging his hands to fit around my waist as I slowly started pressing a trail of kisses down the side of his jawline. “Hanna?” Changbin faintly called, fingers squeezing into the skin above my hips as if trying to gain my attention.

I willingly obeyed. “Hmm?”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

I offered him a teasing smirk, leaning in close. “I know you like me, Changbin. If you wanted to keep it a secret, then you shouldn’t have told Jisung.”

Changbin cursed as I smoothed my hands across his chest. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“I know,” I pouted. “But how would I have known to do this, then?”

Changbin was completely unprepared for the faint brush of my lips across the seam of his mouth. But I was only trying to soften him, parting my lips sensually against his own as I allowed my tongue to trace the chapped ridges. Changbin opened wider against an instinctive gasp and I took advantage of the opportunity to lave my tongue against his own, pulling back to study his reaction.

“Can you handle more?”

“More?”

I reached down for the hem of my t-shirt, removing the cheap fabric and carelessly tossing it into the floor. “I want to show you that I care.”

I ran my thumb across the swollen purse of his lips. Changbin’s tongue greeted the rough pad of the wandering digit. “Why?”

“Because I like you too,” I said, reaching out to cradle my hand against the side of his head, holding him in a place for another long kiss, savoring the novel sensation of his touch.

I rocked my hips forward, delighting in the way his breathing hitched, moan vibrating against my mouth. I started a pattern, pulling back and forth along the firm foundation of his thighs to distract him as my hands wandered down to the waistband of his jeans. I quickly noticed that he was already aroused, straining against the tight material, responding to my advances with willing compliance. It was all I needed to take the next step because the last thing I wanted was to move too fast. Changbin was far more sensitive than he allowed others to perceive, and I knew he had a kind heart that was far more vulnerable to the whims of those he desperately wanted to trust.

Changbin inhaled sharply, eyes wide and unblinking as he watched my fingers slowly undo his belt. “I think I’d like to feel your cock,” I admitted, making sure to whisper the words soothingly into his eager ears.

“R-really?” he stuttered, losing focus when my hand wrapped around his pulsing dick, warm beneath my calloused fingers.

“Would you like that?” I asked him, running my vacant hand under his tight t-shirt, surprised to feel the muscle shaping his abdomen.

“Please,” he whined, fingers digging harder into my sides.

“You should have told me before,” I said, leaning back to allow myself enough space to pull up my skirt, leaving it in a thin bundle above my hips. Changbin’s hands finally smoothed down my waist, fingering the edges of my red satin panties while massaging across the waistband with rapt attention.

“I’ve wanted you since Freshman year,” Changbin admitted, and I enjoyed this new dimension to his self-proclaimed “dark” character. A raw honesty that only continued to feed my growing attraction for him.

I gripped his cock harder, squeezing at his sensitive tip, colored with a burning red that betrayed his desire. I shifted my panties to the side, feeling the muscles in my thighs scream in protest as I lifted myself above Changbin’s lap, lowering slowly, easy and wet.

Changbin released a faint moan, eyes threatening to shut despite his attempts to keep them open. I brushed my fingers across the flesh of their lids, feeling his lashes flutter against the pads. I brought our foreheads together intimately, allowing him to maintain the eye contact he desperately sought. “Changbin,” I softly gasped, feeling him deep inside, cock stretching my walls to accommodate our coupling.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in return, looking down at where he disappeared inside, lips falling apart around a gorgeous moan that not even his music compositions could compete.

My thumbs circled leisurely at the sharp juncture of his chin, grounding me as I slowly started to move on his lap, rolling back before pushing down hard again to stimulate a rhythm. The steady hitches in Changbin’s breathing alerted me to his pleasure, and that’s everything I wanted to give him. I moved faster, hoping to earn more of those seductive deep-throated moans from the base of his throat, watching him swallow hard as sweat started to gather on his smooth skin.

“Come inside,” I told him, noticing the way his earnest thrusts were starting to stutter, falling out of beat with the melody of our fucking.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and I was pleased that he had the wherewithal to question what might have been a careless decision.

“I’m on the pill,” I reassured him, kissing along the inviting skin of his collarbone.

“Feels good,” he panted, bangs sticking to his forehead the longer we moved together, harmonious chorus reaching its final crescendo.

His moans filled the studio when he finally came, hot and sticky inside, lips pressing grateful kisses against whatever flesh he could find. His arms held me close, as if afraid to let go, and I allowed the delicate chord to snap, chanting his name softly as my forehead fell onto his shoulder, gasping for more oxygen to recover my screaming lungs.

Silence descended between us like a necessary embrace.

But it wasn’t awkward because neither of us held onto any insecurities. Instead, we decided it was better to open ourselves to this possibility, hands exploring skin decorated with rivulets of salty wetness. Because it was easier to trust when you held mutual affection, holding their gaze to see past the depths of the surface.

“Do you still want me out of the apartment?” I teased him eventually, just to break the quiet, clenching tightly around his flaccid cock.

Changbin’s head fell against the center of my chest, his panting breaths fanning out across my skin. “I want you in my bed.”

“Next time,” I promised him, threading my fingers through the sweat-caked strands of his thick black hair.

————————————————————————–

“What the hell is this!”

The last thing I needed to hear upon waking up the next morning was Jisung’s shrill voice infiltrating my post-orgasm induced haze. Changbin grunted from next to me, pulling me even closer to his overheated body. “Tell him to go away.”

“Get the fuck out, Jisung,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from sleep.

“Are you two naked?”

“Chan?” I questioned wearily, lifting my head just enough to catch a faint glimpse of his blonde hair.

“What time is it?” Changbin asked, raspy tone close to my ear.

“10?”

“Shit!” he cursed. “I have class soon.”

“Will the two of you explain what’s going on?” Jisung demanded, shrieking when Changbin left the couch, fully nude as he rummaged for his clothes.

I simply enjoyed the view.

“What the hell, Changbin?” Chan growled at his younger friend.

Changbin promptly ignored both of his group members, pressing a hasty kiss to my forehead before rushing up the staircase, footsteps heavy as he frantically tried to make his lecture on time. Which, unfortunately, left me alone to deal with the aftermath of our passionate night.

“You and Changbin had sex?” Chan gasped. “In our studio!”

“On top of my lyrics?” Jisung screeched, pushing the aforementioned stack of papers into a messy pile on the floor.

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “He came inside.”

“That’s way too much information,” Chan sighed, grimacing as he picked up my clothes to toss in my direction.

I took them gratefully, working to dress beneath the thin coverage of the blanket Changbin had found last night before we passed out on the couch in the studio. “What’s the big deal?”

“Since when are you and Changbin a thing?” Chan asked, glaring down at me.

“I shouldn’t have said anything!” Jisung lamented, falling to his knees to shuffle through his papers.

“I guess since last night?” I grinned.

“Damn you move fast,” Chan tsked, joining Jisung in his attempts to re-organize his messy stacks.

“He’s a good fuck,” I remarked, laughing when Jisung started to splutter out dozens of curses as he frantically tried to finish his work.

——————————————————————————

“Why does it always have to be my friends?” Hyunjin questioned later on during lunch.

I sipped at my orange juice. “I guess you have really attractive friends?”

“It was definitely the guitar lessons,” Minho insisted. “They had all that time alone together.”

“But it’s still Changbin,” Seungmin frowned. “Is he blackmailing you?”

Jeongin gasped. “I knew it!”

“Stop it you two,” I said. “He’s not blackmailing me.”

“And did you really have to fuck in front of Jisung and Chan?” Woojin asked. “Jisung hasn’t stopped crying about it all morning.”

“We didn’t fuck in front of them,” I rolled my eyes. “You guys aren’t very supportive.”

“We’re in denial, Hanna,” Felix explained. “You and Changbin have never really gotten along.”

“It is strange,” Hyunjin agreed. “What happened?”

“He played me a song,” I shrugged, enjoying the matching looks of confusion adorning their expressions.

“Speaking of which,” Minho giggled, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially. “Changbin’s coming.”

I straightened up immediately, holding my breath as the dark-haired man stood at the edge of the table next to me. He glanced around at the others, running his fingers through his messy hair, uncombed from his hasty departure that morning. “Can I talk to you alone, Hanna?”

I anxiously followed him outside, unsure of what to expect. Changbin sat down on one of the benches lining the main sidewalk, allowing his bag to fall from his shoulder. I joined him quietly, trying to figure out the mask he had chosen to wear. “I want to talk about last night.”

I swallowed hard. “Do you regret it?”

He looked up immediately. “Of course not!”

I let out a sigh of relief. “I think I almost had a small heart attack.”

Changbin grinned, and it did wonders for the narrow aspect of his eyes. “What were you thinking?”

I bit my lower lip worriedly. “I don’t really know. It was kind of sudden, but I think I really like you Changbin.”

“What about Hyungsik?”

“He really wasn’t my type.”

“And I’m your type?” he asked.

“You must be,” I said. “I really like the way you fuck.”

Changbin scoffed. “Is that all?”

“You’re great at the guitar.”

“I’m trying to be serious.”

“I know,” I said, reaching over to poke gently at his chest. “You have a good heart. Otherwise, I don’t know how you’ve managed to put up with me.”

“I’ve had a crush on you since high school,” Changbin admitted. “It got worse Freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think you’d feel the same way,” Changbin admitted. “You have no idea how turned on I was when you came in last night.”

“That was the goal,” I joked. “But seriously, I can’t believe I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“That was my fault,” Changbin said. “I didn’t make it easy on you.”

“It’s my fault too,” I sighed wistfully. “I always go after the wrong guy.”

“Don’t tell Chan that.”

“He already knows.”

Changbin laughed before easing in closer. “Does this mean I’m the right guy?”

I placed a quick kiss on his perfect lips. “I think so.”

“I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“And I can’t wait,” I whispered into the seam of his lips, losing myself in our passionate embrace.

————————————————————————————–

I didn’t mind the crowds as they were becoming increasingly commonplace at their concerts. I learned how to tune out the screaming women, rolling my eyes whenever they tried to touch one of the boys onstage. I really had no room to talk since I could barely keep my hands off the dark-eyed lead guitarist who always managed to leave me increasingly desperate.

“Who’s your favorite member?” I asked one of the girls sitting next to me. She had been steadily growing drunker as the night progressed, squealing loudly whenever a new song started.

“Changbin,” the girl nodded, giggling when the man in question smirked in our direction.

But I knew he wasn’t looking at her.

“I think I like him too.”

And this time, I knew I had made the right decision.

#seo changbin #changbin fanfic #changbin smut #seo changbin fanfic #seo changbin smut #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #enemies to lovers

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reddishpanda · 4 years ago

Text

The harmony of three parts

Hi everyone,

I recently watched a social movie Layla M. by Mijke de Jong. It looks like a social movie with a familiar and ordinary topic radical islam, and it has a lot of sociological concepts too. Since we will be the parents of the next generation, we should watch this movie to understand that giving our attention is very important for our kids.

At the beginning of the movie, Layla can be observed as a young rebellious spirit with a Moroccan culture in Netherlands. Since she felt the discrimination or/and she was looking for a discrimination with a feeling of being in a minority, she started to show how she feels. However, there was no one to listen and give attention to her especially from her family and friends.. Since she was already lonely, she found herself in a society where she got acceptance and attention. When we are in her shoes, it can be stated that now we could have someone to share what we feel, think and etc.

Until now it looks quite cute, isn’t it? The reality is a big NO. That new society which looked like a radical islamic society, was the first step of ISIS. Additionally, when Layla’s friends and family realised that the new society would hurt Layla, it was so late. So it can be stated that Layla was wrong, Layla’s new world was a mistake, her boyfriend (lately husband) was a bad decision, etc… Okay. What about family? Were they innocent as angels while they were not taking care of their daughter? I do not think so.

We will have future generations with us as our own kids, relatives, or friends’ kids. We have to take a little action to protect them. This action includes three main parts which can be counted as Listening, Understanding and Observing. With the harmony of these three parts we can avoid mislead teenagers in our world.

With the best wishes,

Reddish Panda

#layla m #family #society #mislead #next generation #mijke #de #jong #tiff

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kitchmbrs · 5 years ago

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hello , babies ! my names peach & this is my baby kit. i’m super excited for this group bc i love lil oc celeb things so i’m happy to be here ! below you can read a little about kit & give this a like for me to come bother you for some plots !

oh my god ! @kitchmbrs just liked my tweet ! you know , they’re the singer with 7.5m followers ? i can’t believe they noticed me . seriously ? you’ve never heard of them ? what … are you living under a rock ? they’re christopher ‘kit’ chambers , and they’re twenty-three . i’ve never met them , but the tabloids all say that they’re charming and outspoken . it’s kind of sad , though . ever since they moved to downtown los angeles from australia , they’ve become really devious and crass . some say that lust has become them . i’m not sure if i believe that . there’s more than what meets the eye , right ? they’re more than just leaving the club with a new person every weekend , late nights writing songs , & flashy instagram posts , i know it !

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙨.

full name : christopher joseph chambers

nicknames : kit , cj ( family )

age : twenty - three

birthday : august 9th ( leo )

orientation : band member - lead singer / rhythm guitarist.

hometown : sydney , australia

orientation : bisexual , biromatic

vice : lust

𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚.

height : 6′4″

hair color : blonde

eye color : blue

tattoos : left sleeve rose piece ( reference )

piercings : previous snakebites , removed

𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙. triggers include : death / car accident , drug use , divorce , abandonment.

solely goes by kit chambers. is one of those celebs that you don’t realize go by a nickname. but definitely will not answer to christopher & doesn’t introduce himself as such. really only ones that can call him christopher are his band mates. also occasionally gets called cj but isn’t a big fan of the name. so. just kit !

hails from sydney , australia. born to a small family that didn’t have a lot. dad worked during the day and mom worked at night so kit never really saw much of either of them until the weekend. spent most of his time with his older sister. she was 100% his best friend. was a relatively well behaved child. got along with most people. didn’t get into too much trouble , though there were a few detentions here and there.

trigger /// high school is when things got a little rough for kit. his parents were going through a hard time & when he was a freshman , they filed for divorce. he leaned a lot on his older sister who had just started college. his family wasn’t exactly the closest knit system , but as he began to go between mom & dads house it got a little difficult for him.

trigger heavy /// when he felt like he finally had a good system , he got a phone call one night that his sister had been in a car accident & within the next 24 hours she had passed away. sixteen year old kit had his word rocked because his sister was his biggest support system. he had a super hard time coping & relied heavily on the support of his three childhood best friends.

within the next two years , they formed a band because music was the one thing that made kit feel better. his sister had taught him guitar , keyboard , and they would always sing together & diving into music made him feel closer to her again. together , the band decided that they actually wanted to try to do this professionally. started off making little youtube videos on their own & eventually decided that they needed to make a big decision if they were going to get big.

together , the four boys moved out to la. it was definitely on a whim , but with the traction that they already had , they quickly made a name for themselves. they’re definitely still growing , especially with the recent release of their new album.

with fame came a lot of changes in kits personality. it happened pretty fast for him & he definitely is enjoying the luxuries that he has with being famous. his band mates are really the only ones that know the real him , not that he’s changed that horrifically , but he’s definitely letting fame get to him without really knowing.

𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮. triggers include : none.

comes off as an asshole initially. isn’t one , is just blunt and isn’t afraid to speak up. managers try to keep his image clean so he usually lets his bandmates speak up before he does to avoid painting himself as a jerk.

a bit of a trouble maker ! loves to get into things he shouldn’t be into. loves to make messes. loves to get into any kind of trouble that he can without being caught by cameras. has definitely had to pay off some people to cover up things like bar fights and so forth.

has a pretty decent sense of humor and loves anyone he can laugh with. isn’t exactly the class clown of the group , but will always slip in a little joke here or there if it comes to his head.

a cuddly boy ! but only once you get to know him. takes a while for him to open up but once he does , you’ll have this entire 6′4 body sprawled over top of you and he will just sleep there. loves body contact and feels more comfortable sleeping next to someone than he does alone.

doesn’t not trust easily. takes a lot of digging to really get to the real him. is pretty trustworthy himself , but doesn’t consider himself to be the confidant type because he doesn’t hold a lot of people very highly in his life. if it doesn’t benefit him to speak up about your business , he won’t. not much of a gossip but he’s not one to shit to about anyone he cares about.

definitely sleeps around a bit. tries to keep it hushed but it’s definitely hard to hush something that’s so obvious. takes pleasure in getting what he wants , not just related to sleeping around , and isn’t one to hide that part of him.

loves posting on social media and interacts with his fans a lot. sometimes he’ll get his account taken away for a bit at a time because he’s sometimes a little too vocal about things he probably shouldn’t be.

𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖.

wanted connections.

pinterest.

you can ask me for my discord if you’d rather plot there !

#7sins:intro #this is ................ long #dont look at me

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luckywatersao3 · 4 years ago

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K L P S Q - sorry I know it’s a lot! Just curious!

Okay in alphabetical order:

K: What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

I'm kind of surprising myself with this answer, but maybe Ginny? I remember when I was first reading Harry Potter, I began to identify so strongly with Ginny in the fifth and sixth books. I think it was really relatable to have a character so shy/naive/lovestruck, and then have her grow into herself and become confident. That said, now I'm not too high on her representation because her development is pretty male-gazey, like it's just about dating other people, being popular and being "feisty." But at the time I guess that's what I wanted to be, so I related to it. In other fandoms, I think it's so cool how Tony Stark develops across the MCU films as his sense of obligation to the world/universe increases.

L: Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

Um so background: I actually really don't like Sirius as a character. I think he was a bully growing up, who thought he was morally absolvent because he didn't follow his parents teachings, and since then he has, understandably, become unhinged following his friends being murdered, spending thirteen years in a hellish prison with seemingly no human interaction. For that reason, I abhor when people make him out to be a role model, father figure, anything like a functioning human being. He was a goddamn broken mess who needed about fifteen more years to find out who he was and whether he had grown out of being a bully. That said, none of this is his fault, his hangups/how he acts after getting out of prison is so understandable, I just have an issue with how fandom portrays him. Anyway, the nice thing I have to say is that it's fairly charming that for the year of Goblet of Fire, he was seemingly completely dedicated to keeping Harry safe and providing advice to him.

P: Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

I'm not making these fandom specific because I could see them for a bunch of ships:

Character A is the angel-on-Character B's-shoulder, only they've become disenchanted with angeling, so they're a sassy misanthropist.

Character A is the night bus driver for one of the city's many routes. Character B works nights, and somehow rides Character A's bus every night.

Character A is the personal chef of Character B, a professional athlete.

Character A is a professional organizer hired to go through Character B's dead relative's belongings.

Q: A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

Teen Wolf or Supernatural-- both primarily because I stopped watching the show. Teen Wolf, because once Derek left the show, I no longer had hopes of Sterek becoming canon, or their subtext getting more development. Supernatural, because I never got into the Castiel ship, and the rest of the show was becoming so so dark that I stopped watching and got lost when I tried to read fics without context Interestingly, I did recently go back and read a bunch of sterek fics, so maybe I'll come back to that fandom, despite not having watched the last few seasons of the show.

S: Show us an example of your personal headcanon (prompts optional but encouraged)

I think most of my headcanons around Harry Potter are around the workings of the wizarding world-- like that the reason apparation makes noise is because of the sudden displacement of matter, or that post owls have to go through training before being sold as post owls, they’re not just regular owls, or that there are other wizarding streets other than diagon alley in major cities.

But one character head canon is that Harry is quite submissive in bed, because he has lived his life with so much pressure on him, and having someone else make the decisions and give him orders is extremely freeing.

#Q&a #fandom asks #hp #marvel #teen wolf #supernatural

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sofreddie · 5 years ago

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The Winchester Way Part 25 (finale)

Summary: In dealing with the destructive aftermath, the remaining Council Members make a difficult and harsh decision, and set their sights on the future of The Way.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Bobby, Cas, Garth, Mentioned: Walter, Melody, Kyle, Charlie, Benny

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, Mentions of past assault/non-con, Fluff (yup!), Smut (unprotected sex)

Word Count: 3,067

A/N: Here it is, the final installment of The Winchester Way! I had a hard time finishing it and I think a lot of that was a subconscious hesitation to let it go. This story grew into something I never imagined. Seriously, I initially planned it to go a completely different way and it ended up growing into its own direction and story. Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic and patiently awaited each part as I struggled to write. I am very proud of this story.

*See the end of work for additional A/N*

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Dean helped Sam down into a rickety, worn chair in the old, abandoned cabin nestled in the woods a short hike from the Bunker. The cabin had belonged to Elijah Winchester and was where The Way was originally founded and operated before the construction of the current Bunker facility. The brothers came to the cabin often in their youth, playing at being warriors and finding much-needed respite from the constant activity housed within the Bunker walls.

Dean found an old first aid kit, still hidden away in one of the cabinets, and wordlessly passed it to Sam, letting him tend to his wounds as Dean paced the small cabin. The Bunker facility was greatly damaged but luckily would only take several people and a few months to repair. The bigger issue was the great loss they suffered - the many, many people that had died with the release of all the creatures housed within the dungeon.

The burden of Leadership weighed heavily on Dean as he considered the actions that needed to be taken: Hunters would need to be sent out to kill and dispose of the escaped creatures; the Bunker would need to be repaired and cleaned of all the blood, gore, and bodies; and then there was John…and Sam. Dean knew any survivors would demand an explanation and justice. John and Sam would be brought forth before the Council - or what was left of it - that much Dean was certain.

The door to the cabin burst open, revealing Bobby. Behind him followed Walter, Melody, and Kyle. Dean hurried over, helping everyone into the cabin and getting them settled. Sam silently passed him the first aid kit which he handed to Bobby.

"Are there any other survivors?" Dean asked, choking slightly on his words.

Bobby let out a tired sigh as he shook his head. "Not that I saw."

Dean's heart clenched and an image of Y/N popped into his mind. He wondered if John had killed her, ready to blame it on the creatures. No one would be the wiser, and he certainly wouldn't put it past his father to do such a thing.

"I'm going back," Dean announced, grabbing his machete and making for the door.

"What?" Sam protested, rising from his seat with a wince, "Dean…you can't-"

"I can and I will!" Dean growled, spinning on his brother with a warning glare, causing Sam to shrink back from his brother's ire. Dean turned back to the door with a huff, throwing it wide, and taking a step before freezing in his tracks at the sound and sight of movement in the trees just beyond the cabin. He tightened his grip on the machete, trying to decide if he would barricade the survivors within the cabin or go forth and face the threat.

"Dean!"

Dean heard the familiar voice of his Angel friend calling out to him before seeing Cas break through the trees and brush, having Charlie, Garth, and Y/N with him.

"Cas?" Dean rushed towards the small group, ushering them inside the now cramped cabin and securing the door behind them, "Is there anyone else?"

"I'm afraid not," Cas stated, making his way around the room and healing the wounds of the injured before coming to face Dean once more, "You should know, your father didn't make it."

John was dead. His father was dead. A surge of sadness, regret, and relief welled up within Dean, but he buried it down, knowing now was not the time to allow himself to get emotional.

"How?" Dean sternly inquired.

"That damned hook-and-chain zombie that killed my Uncle," Y/N responded with a hiss, before turning a threatening glare on Sam, "You and your father turned Rufus into one of those things and he killed him. John died protecting me from that monstrosity."

"Rufus?" Dean asked in shock, looking to Sam for confirmation. Sam simply dropped his head in shame, unable to bear the judgment from his brother.

Dean turned back to the group, squaring his shoulders protectively as he stood in front of his brother as if to shield him from the accusing glares being sent his way, "Sam wasn't himself," Dean protested firmly, "He was made soulless against his will. Anything that happened while he was like that cannot be held against him."

"I was aware of my actions," Sam chimed in with a meek tone, "Being soulless just made me not care."

"Did you care when everyone died because of your actions?" Y/N spat, inching closer to Sam as her tone grew more vicious, "Did you care when John locked away Dean? Did you care when you raped me?!" she screeched. Dean put up his hands, holding Y/N back as she attempted to lean over Dean's shoulder to get closer to Sam. Although Sam was significantly larger than everyone in the room, he shrank away from Y/N's accusations.

"I do now," he whispered, ashamed of himself as the guilt he felt multiplied and twisted his insides painfully.

"I agree with Y/N," Bobby added, coming to stand beside her, "He was aware of everything. He needs to face the Council for his actions."

"No-" Dean began before he was stopped by Sam's hand on his shoulder.

Sam stepped forward to face Y/N and Bobby, "He's right. John and I are responsible for so much that happened within those walls. For the pain and suffering. I deserve to face the consequences of my actions."

"Sam, no," Dean pleaded with his brother. If it were anyone else, Dean would be quick to follow the tenants of The Way, to make the offender face justice. But this was Sam. He wasn't himself. He couldn't let him go down for everything…could he?

"Y/N, Garth, you and myself are the only remaining Elites and Council members," Bobby explained to Dean, "We need to collectively decide not only Sam's fate but the future of The Way."

Dean stood silent, his body nearly shaking from his growing anger as he stared down each of the other Council members defiantly. His eyes locked with Bobby's last, a long stare-off and silent communication before Dean's shoulder's slumped. He let out a defeated sigh before turning to face his brother. He didn't like it, but he knew all other members of the Council were determined.

"Sam," Dean said his brothers name apologetically and Sam gave him a small, reassuring smile in return. I understand.

"Sam Winchester," Bobby spoke loud enough for all to hear, "You stand accused of breaking the tenants of The Way."

"Hunters do not kill other Hunters or cause them harm through action or inaction," Garth stated.

"Act with compassion and empathy towards all creatures," Y/N spat the words in disdain.

"See what is right and fair," Dean continued reluctantly, "In the behavior exhibited by others, and uphold the righteousness and the moral disposition to do good," he concluded with a heavy-hearted sigh.

"Usually, you'd be brought to face the Gauntlet for your crimes," Bobby explained, "But seeing as the Bunker and our resources are defunct, the only option that remains-"

"Is exile," Sam breathed out, knowing the laws inside and out. He dropped his head defeatedly, fighting with all he had to not break down or plead for mercy. He knew what he had done and in his mind, exile was generous. He met the eyes of each person in the room, seeing the determination and hatred in their eyes. He was nothing more than a dangerous outsider, an opponent, to them. He couldn't speak. He only nodded, turning to grab his weapon from the table and heading towards the cabin door, shoulders slumped and head down, "For what it's worth," he said, looking at his brother, "I'm sorry."

Without another word, Sam opened the door and closed it gently behind him. He took a deep breath of the forest air, trying to calm himself until he was alone and further away.

"This is beyond fucked up," Dean said after Sam had left the small cabin.

"It's also The Way, the laws we live by. As our Leader, you should be setting that example." Bobby pressed.

"I'm not your Leader. I haven't even completed the Trials-"

"I think you've more than proven yourself, Dean," Garth said with a humorless chuckle.

"I agree," Y/N and Bobby added in turn.

"Due to recent circumstances, the Council agrees to forgo the Trials. In tradition with The Way of Elijah Winchester and the ideals and traditions we live by, we name you, Dean Winchester, official Winchester representative on the Council and the new Leader of The Way."

Bobby completed his short speech by raising his right fist and tapping it against his chest in honor and recognition. Y/N and Garth followed the gesture.

Dean faced the group, mimicking their gesture, "I accept the role as Leader and Protector of The Way and promise to uphold the Tenants until my dying breath," he responded with the ceremonial line, feeling the weight of everything multiplying as it settled atop his shoulders with everything else.

Dean was pleasantly surprised that his new position - and the requirements it imposed upon him - were met with relative ease. In the beginning, he found it somewhat unnerving how everyone came to him for advice and decisions. His initial reaction was to direct them to his father, and then he would quickly remind himself of his position and take necessary action. In the months since the disaster, he found it came easier to him. With every instance, he made decisions and gave advice, using the tenants of The Way to guide him. Those who survived and those who returned to the Bunker in the wake of the carnage talked amongst themselves of how Dean was shaping up to be one of the greatest Leaders of The Way since Elijah Winchester himself.

In those months, Dean found himself confiding in and turning to, Y/N for her thoughts and advice when needed. Not only was she now a skilled and experienced Hunter and member of The Way, but she was also a fellow survivor, a fellow Elite, and his bride-to-be. After the initial clean-up and rebuilding of the damage to the Bunker, Bobby had come to Dean to press the importance of tradition - the Leader must have a wife. With Dean being the only Winchester remaining in The Way, he needed to ensure the future of The Way, as well as his line.

The pairing of himself and Y/N was something he had hoped for, but he didn't expect it to be so arranged and political in nature. He wouldn't admit it outwardly, but he longed for real love. For the kind of love his mother and father had shared before everything went dark. He was certainly fond of Y/N and he knew it was mutual. But it wasn't love. Not yet at least. With Bobby pressing the issue, and Dean determined to uphold traditions, he hoped that love would eventually blossom between them. But the foundations - friendship, trust, attraction - were all there, which made his nerves calm slightly as he prepared himself for the afternoon's ceremonies.

The wedding was the first big affair to be held in the aftermath of great loss and every available Hunter walked the halls of the Bunker in anticipation of the joyous event, which would be followed up by the naming of two new Elite families. Recent events left holes in the Council. The remaining members agreed and talked to the families they wished to name - The Bradburys and The LaFittes - who accepted without hesitation.

Dean sat at one of the many tables filling the room, Y/N sat at his side, the Elite families filling out the rest of their table. He sipped on his glass of whiskey, taking in the joviality around him. In the time since the destruction, all remaining Hunters banded together to rebuild the Bunker and The Way. Although he still carried the burden of the loss of his family, the exile of his brother, the loss of so many lives, Dean felt a moment of happiness and for the first time in a long time, looked forward to what the future might hold.

"Care to retire?" Dean's attention was brought to his blushing bride beside him, beckoning him away with a hint of a smirk. Dean nodded, bidding his farewell to the others for the night, attempting to ignore the woots and hollers that followed them as they made their way to Dean's chambers.

Y/N turned to Dean, beginning to disrobe before he could even close the door.

"Eager much?" he teased with a smirk as he approached her, stopping her movements. He took a deep breath, feeling his nerves get the better of him. Sex was always easy for Dean. He took it and enjoyed it whenever possible. But this was different. For the first time in his life, it wasn't just sex.

He forced his hands to steady as he took over her actions, sliding her sleeves down and letting her dress pool around her feet.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed out in awe. When she smiled, he returned the sentiment, leaning in to capture her lips once more. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into his touch. Dean hummed at the contact, feeling his hunger grow. He had wanted her since he laid eyes on her. Initially, he wanted only to claim and own her innocence, but that had been taken from her. Now, he only wanted to make her feel safe and good and to connect with her.

Once they were both bare, he laid hem down on the bed, the two of them content for the moment with kissing and roaming hands. As Dean gazed down at her beneath him, he could see the worry and hesitation in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked in nearly a whisper, afraid to pop the bubble they found themselves in.

"A-are you going to be rough with me?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"Do you want me to be?" he smirked.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she said, tearing her eyes from him.

Dean tilted her face back to meet his eyes, "It matters," he stated, "More than you realize."

"I," she swallowed hard, careful to choose her words, "I know marriage was necessary. And I know I was the only one who could-"

"Y/N," Dean stopped her, careful to keep his tone gentle, "I am very fond of you. I know I've never been kind or really shown much affection. But I need you to know this is different," he brushed the hair back from her face, looking at her in adoration, "I hope in time you can learn to love me." he admitted.

She stared at him for several long moments in silence, letting his words swirl in her mind before she gave a minute nod and leaned up to capture his lips once more. With renewed passion, he took his time to explore her body, learn what she liked and wanted, even if she didn't know it herself. He had brought her to climax twice before he even considered entering her.

He notched himself at her entrance, gazing into her eyes, "You ready?"

She nodded, bringing his lips to hers once more as he slowly filled her. When he could press no further, he paused, allowing both of them to adjust to the sensations. She felt incredible, more warm and wet and tight than anyone he'd ever experienced before.

He kissed her shoulder sweetly before he started to move, withdrawing slowly and pressing back in just as slow, his eyes locked on her face and her reactions. She moaned loudly, her hands gripping his shoulders tight, holding him to her, their skin sliding against one another as his pace slowly grew, stoking the fires within her.

Her experience with Benny was sweet, caring, slow, and tender. But something about Dean - the way he moved, the way his muscles rippled beneath her hands, the way she could feel restraint and passion fluttering within him - it was different from anything she had experienced or even fathomed.

"Dean," his name rolled off her tongue in a drawn-out moan, her legs lifting against his sides reflexively, allowing him to thrust deeper. He groaned at the sound, his face dropping to the crook of her neck as he intentionally and agonizingly drew out their pleasure. When her orgasm finally washed over her, the strength of it making her body quake, Dean fell over the edge behind her, grunting profanities and sweet nothings into her neck.

When he could move again, he flopped to his back, pulling her to rest across his chest. His fingers trailed over her skin as he stared at the ceiling. It was a little awkward. He had never stuck around long after the deed, always quick to redress and be on his way or to leave his conquest wherever they lay. It was all new, and not entirely unpleasant he admitted to himself. The feel of her against his side, the euphoria that still washed through his veins.

As she fell asleep, her soft snores filling the room, Dean looked down at her peaceful form. He had a wife, and most likely a child soon. His family was gone, but he was working towards a new one, one of his own. At that moment, he swore he'd be a better husband, a better Leader, a better man than his father. He'd protect his family - and The Way - with his life.

Hundreds of yards away, a dark shadow loomed under the moonlight, his dark and narrowed eyes fixed on the Bunker in the distance. His mind flashed with images of the building, its occupants, its history, before returning to the memories that haunted him. Memories of blood, monsters, carnage…and betrayal.

A low growl from his side drew his attention from the building in the distance and he sighed.

"Alright," Sam said, patting the head of the Hellhound beside him. He turned his black eyes back on the building, a wicked smirk adorning his lips, "Time to go home."

A/N #2: I have planned a sequel series called TWW: Sam’s Revenge. Way back in Part 10, I received a comment from someone who said they were looking forward to seeing Sam’s side of things and how he dealt with that because Sam’s feelings and reactions always seem to be brushed over. I agree. But his story was not something that could simply be a few extra chapters. The initial story is told, and now it’s time for Sam’s side. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in the new series, as TWW tags are being dissolved. FOREVERS WILL BE TAGGED IN THE NEW SERIES!

The Winchester Way:

@kawaiidemondesuchan

@godof-thunderthighs-ofbetrayal

@tinkerbellafan

@mogaruke

@roxyspearing

@ellen-reincarnated1967

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