#tbh you could read it as gn its just he refers to the reader using more feminine terms

[scarletwritesshit]

⭐Boothill x F!Reader ⭐ Silver Stars

You kept looking up at Penacony’s sky. You knew that none of this was real, and that your physical body was safely resting in the Reveire back in reality, but that didn’t make the experience feel any more fake.

Boothill noticed you frequently looking up at the sky. On occasion, he would have to drag you out of the way of others or nudge you away from accidentally walking directly into a lamp post. He didn’t mind it, but his kindness did not come without a few "muddle fudgers.” You couldn’t help it. Penacony’s sky was simply too marvelous for you to ignore.

"Lass, ya better watch where you’re goin’, otherwise, one of these days you’re gonna trip and fall," Boothill said. "Don’t want ya bustin’ up your pretty face."

"Oh, sorry," you said, "It’s quite difficult to simply glaze by such a view.”

"Well if ya wanted to go stargazin’, why didn’t ya tell me so? Ain’t that a lot easier than wanderin’ around like some dumb dog?"

"I guess, but where are we going to find anywhere in Penacony to stargaze in solitude?"

Boothill thought for a moment. "I mean there’s them back-alley routes that eventually lead up to some pretty quiet and wide open spots. Ain’t gonna find no one up there seein’ how everyone else is too busy indulging in their own little fantasy lands."

"Do you even know where any of these spots are?"

"That’s what a GPS is for, hun. Not like any of them are very difficult to find in the first place, just gotta do a little walkin’."

Boothill grabbed you by the arm and started dragging you down a back-alley path. He had quite the tight grip, perhaps out of negligence for how strong his artificial body was. Your feet were practically smoking from the friction as he dragged you along. Eventually, you gave up trying to keep up with his pace and allowed yourself to skid along, until he stopped at a rather high spot overlooking the dreamy metropolis of the Golden Hour.

"Told ya I knew what I was doin’," he said, with a wink.

"Next time, could you be just a little bit gentler? My shoes were practically sparking a fire back there," you said.

"Shoulda told me something, lass. Could’ve picked ya up and thrown ya over my shoulder."

"Is it too late to take you up on that offer?"

"For now, yeah, ‘cuz we’re already here. But it ain’t off the table for later. For now, take a seat, lass."

Boothill sat down on the concrete, and invited you to sit next to him by patting the ground. You sat down next to him and looked up, admiring the grand view of Penacony’s stars blanketing above your head and beyond what can be seen past the guardrail. You looked all around, even leaning backwards to take in as much as the starry sky as you possibly could. Boothill wrapped his arm around your lower back to steady you so that you did not collapse onto the concrete.

"Wouldn’t it be easier if ya laid your bum down on my lap?" Boothill suggested. "If ya can deal with my cold metal thighs, it’ll be a heck of a lot easier to look at them stars than twisting ya spine all over the dang place."

Accepting Boothill’s offer, you laid down on his thighs, positioning your head so that you could rest between them comfortably. They were rather firm and solid, but the fabric of his pants cushioned them a little. Boothill was right about the stars being far more easily viewed from laying down. The only thing that really got in your way were the tuffs of his hair visible out of the corner of your eyes, but it was a minor inconvenience that you truthfully didn’t mind. He reached down to gently stroke the side of your face, but stopped himself.

"Sorry if I ain’t that comfortable," he said.

"No, its fine. I quite like it here," you said, grabbing his hand and gently placing it onto your cheek.

The metal of Boothill's fingers were quite cold from Penacony’s everlasting nighttime air. Curiously enough, it had the strangest sense of human warmth to it.

"You don’t gotta to pretend for me, partner. I know it ain’t the same as the feeling of another human."

"But this feeling is from you. Not just any person, flesh and blood or otherwise. That’s more important.”

"This hunk 'o crud ain’t anything like the me I once was. It’s turned me into a sad excuse of a person if I’ve ever seen one."

"I don’t mind. Really"

"Well I do," he said, gently running his finger alongside your cheek, "all I got to offer as a sad excuse of comfort is a heaping pile of metal."

"I get the feeling you don’t particularly enjoy being a cyborg."

"What gave that away? It’s gotta be up there with one of the worst things that had ever happened to me. Shame that not even the sweetest dreams can grant me a sense of normalcy."

"...Boothill, if a shooting star could grant a wish, would you wish for your human body back?"

Boothill went silent for a moment, and sighed. "No. I couldn’t There’s somethin’ far more valuable than my own humanity that I wish I could bring back."

"...You’re talking about her, aren’t you?"

"Right on target, partner. Even if I could bring ‘er back, I ain’t got a father's body to provide any warmth with. It’s cruel to do a little lady so dirty like that."

"She would think you’re the coolest, honestly."

"Maybe. Still can’t help but feel like I ain’t really there for ‘er with this lump of snot for a body. Probably a father’s guilt speakin’."

Boothill speaking more softly about himself for once put your body at ease, in addition to being rested comfortably in his lap. If it were possible in this dream, you felt as if you could drift off to sleep.

"Cyborg or not, you’ll always be Boothill to me," you said.

"Thank ya kindly, lass. Your words mean a whole lot to a little ol’ bucket of scrap like me. And I do apologize for dullin’ ya mood. Ya did say you wanted to stargaze, not listen to a rusty lad yap for Aeons know how long."

"No worries. I find this kind of talk kinda soothing."

"I can tell. Ya look like you’re gonna doze off on me."

"If it were feasible in a dream, then I would."

Boothill had become comfortable enough to entrust such a deeply hidden repressed feeling to you. In turn, you too felt much more at ease in his presence, knowing he was comfortable enough for such a thing. Beneath the stars, it was as if Penacony's sky was soothing the troubles of both of your golden hearts.

Your eyes began to feel heavy.

"I ain’t gonna bug ya if ya want a lil’ bit of shut-eye," Boothill said. "Stars are meant for sleepin’ under, after all."

He gently began to run his fingers through your hair, feeling as much as his cold metallic fingers would allow him to.

No use fighting back perhaps one of the first peaceful nights you two have shared in a while.

You closed your eyes.

#tbh you could read it as gn its just he refers to the reader using more feminine terms #honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #boothill #boothill x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[ruu-https]

Class

☆ synopsis. You were a freshman in college and it was your first day, you missed the orientation so you didn’t get a tour of the college and you were now lost. Not knowing where your class is you start to panic and have an anxiety attack when someone comforts you; a sophomore.

☆ notes. m x gn!anxious!reader (at some point I use h/n to refer to the male so you can choose their name) , reader has anxiety, comfort

☆ word count. 477

☆ links. navigation - ask box - taglist - smut prompts - fluff prompts - masterlist

꒰౨ৎ - author's note. tbh, I was going to make this a kiri fic but then I thought of someone I like... sooo I just made it M x GN!reader so yall can imagine it however you want, and if youre male reading this you could just image it’s a female instead if youd rlly like lmfaoo, also yes I said the serotodo fic would be out next but I had this in my notes soo.. (I don’t know how to format any of my writing so if it seems weird to you, sorry..) I wrote this in class after I took my final so its kinda rushed and maybe a little weird cus I was VERY delusional atp... (I know this is not how college works, im basing it off highschool classes so it makes more sense), im not to happy with this but who cares..

It was your first day of college and you already failed to find you first class. You were out of the country when freshmen were given a tour of the college, which in your opinion was way to big. Now you were walking to the stairwell in front of you. 

- 

You walk into the stairwell shaking, tears threatening to fall. You run up the stairs, heading to the roof, the only place you know of in this school. You open the door to the roof and go sit at the corner edge, tears now falling from your eyes. You pulled your hood on and stared at the schedule on your phone. You couldn't find your class and now you don't know what to do, you were having an anxiety attack and you don't know how to make it stop.  

You were so focused on trying to calm yourself down you didn't hear the door to the rooftop swing open and someone come up behind you. 

"Oh, hello," a deep but calm voice said.  

You flinched, not expecting anyone else to be on the roof.  

"You skipping too?" he asked, sitting next to you. That's when he realized you were shaking. "Hey, what's wrong are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on you shoulder.  

You turn you head away from him, "P-please leave me aalone," you mumble, voice cracking and you silently sob into your arms.  

"No, Im not just gonna leave you to cry alone." he says. You stayed silent, and that's when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. "I'm not too sure how to deal with this but I can try. You can push me away if you'd like." he says, one of his hands resting on your lower back, the other playing with your hair.  

Your body stills as he pulls you into his chest, but you soon relax into him, your breathing finally slowing down. "Just listen and try to sync your breathing with mine," he whispers, resting his head on top of yours, continuing to run his hands through your hair as he breathes in deeply and exhaling. 

It took you awhile but you eventually calm down, h/n helping you the whole time and coaxing you through it. Now the bell was about to ring and you had to get to your next class. 

You pull out your phone and look at your schedule, sighing. h/n looks at you and then at your phone, "You need help finding your class?" He asks, looking back at you. You look at him and nod. He stands up and grabs your hand, pulling you to your feet. "Lets go then!" He says, smiling. 

He took you to your class and you made it before the bell rang again, of course he gave you his number before leaving though. 

@ruu-https -----2024 || All rights reserved. Do not repost, re-upload, translate, modify or claim my work as your own.

#fluff #m x reader #mxreader #comfort #warmth #strangers to lovers #strangers to friends #pls read #give me ideas #i need ideas #idk man #how to tag

[valentine-writes]

Heya! I scanned over your rules a few times before wanting to request something! Its cool if you don't want to so don't feel pressured! If possible, could you do a Monty Gator x reader from the new fnaf game? The premise being reader is a new night mechanic and takes a liking to Monty and double checks him more often to see if he's doing alright, and he eventually starts following her around like a lost puppy? Please remember to get rest and make sure you eat and hydrate!

-Lilyth

puppy love (monty x reader hcs) !

↳ ft. montgomery gator

「 gn! reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

OH HELLO HII!!!! thank u so much 4 reading the rules aawuwuah and aa of course!!!!! wowoaowug this was like. an Ultra Super Polite req ohmy thank u for all that babes!! i'm noticing a lotta monty reqz and tbh valid becuz i did mention i like him a lot too whjedbjd /ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ ! <3 i will be doing gn reader for this one though, just because i generally don't actually use pronouns that reference the reader's gender or anything so i hope u don't mind that teeny tiny adjustment!!!!! also thought making the title puppy love would b kyute HWJSHDJ (*´꒳`*) ! here we go!!!

▸ being a new mechanic at freddy fazbear's mega pizzaplex was... interesting to say the least. it wasn't bad, no not at all- the pay was good, the coworkers were generally okay, and the work wasn't all that difficult for you- it was just... strange.

▸ the animatronics certainly were pretty pieces of tech, but they almost seemed too good. they might be slightly unnerving to some, due to how human they could be. you didn't seem to mind though.

▸ it was your job to take care of them- you wouldn't be able to do that if you were uncomfortable with them.

▸ in fact, you got along exceptionally well with them. sun and moon were less anxious for maintenance with you. you like when chica chatted with you during her routine check ups. you enjoyed how patient freddy was with you during repairs. and even roxanne's company was nice to have.

▸ you could never pick a favourite out of them. you loved all the animatronics at the plex the same. the staff bots, music man- even the tiny little wet floor sign ones. their well-being was your responsibility and the payment for your rent! how could you ever play favourites?

▸ well. it wasn't exactly a favorite. it started more as concern than anything. montgomery gator- or monty- had some issue arise with his ai

▸ actually, a lot of the animatronics did. management said it wasn't too much of a big deal, but it still bothered you sometimes. somehow, with their complex ai- they had picked up negative emotions

▸ you noticed with roxanne. and then with chica. and then, possibly the most obvious one. monty.

▸ he would absolutely destroy his room after every show during closing. that was especially weird- extreme anger issues wasn't exactly something you'd expect from an animatronic who's main purpose is for children's entertainment.

▸ but this resulted in you checking up on him more often. mostly because the other mechanics absolutely refused to interfere with monty's tantrums

▸ weirdly enough, you seemed to be able to calm him down when these issues occured- given, the first few times were incredibly difficult to do, your patience towards him allowed you to find certain ways to get him to cool off

▸ so every night, just after you finished all of your check ups and had fixed everything that needed to be fixed- you would knock on monty's door and do a quick after check up for him. just to make sure, really

▸ you'd ask him how he was doing just to make sure he was alright

▸ the first three times you did this, he was confused. monty just told you he was fine, and then asked why. you shrugged, saying it was just you doing your job

▸ the next few times, he tried to make more conversation. a bit of friendly banter here and there- even invited you into his green room just to talk.

▸ now it's routine for you to stay a little overtime just to talk with monty.

▸ however, it became routine for him to follow you literally everywhere

▸ now it was your turn to ask questions.

"monty, why are you following me?"

he probably made up an excuse on the spot- because yeah, he totally needed to stretch his legs. his metal legs. duh.

▸ you can't get rid of him, you can't fight it- you just now have a giant alligator animatronic that follows you around everywhere

▸ monty doesn't see you any other time, except for your nightshifts. and he's really trying to make the most out of it.

▸ sometimes, you'll stray from your tasks just to explore the plex a little bit. monty isn't snitching- besides, he's not even technically supposed to be glued to your side.

▸ in fact, he'll encourage a little rule breaking if it means you two can do it together

▸ one night, you figured that monty was recharging or had decided to leave you alone. curiosity taking you over- you decided to see what was left of bonnie bowl. after all, bonnie had been decommissioned and they meant to re-theme it. maybe one last glimpse before it was revamped was a good idea. you know, for fun.

▸ you snuck in as careful as ever, only to discover it was empty. still, a few staff bots might have been stationed, so you practically tiptoed the entire time

▸ until possibly the loudest footsteps you ever heard caught your ear. ah. so much for your little stealth mission. (hey, monty couldn't let you explore alone.)

▸ the other animatronics take note of monty tagging along with you constantly. chica laughed once, talking about how he trailed you like a lost puppy

▸ it earned a laugh from you- completely flustered monty. now whenever you two are walking around the plex, you'll look over your shoulder at him and mouth the word "puppy" to him just to tease him

▸ he won't let you off the hook that easy everytime you do that but it's funny seeing how he reacts.

▸ monty would literally follow you anywhere- except when it's time to leave. he hasn't left the plex, and you insist that he stay.

▸ him following you around all the time is already enough to get you in a bit of trouble- if you were the reason he just completely left the pizzaplex, you'd probably be fired.

▸ so instead he'll drop you off and say goodbye, watching as you walk away.

▸ this is the only time the saying "later, gator" doesn't piss him off.

▸ he's always excited to see you again, and can't wait to see what type of trouble you two will get up to tommorow. or you can be responsible and he can follow you around while you set a good example.

▸ either is fine with him. as long as he's with you :]

#fnaf security breach headcanons #fnaf security breach #security breach headcanons #montgomery gator #monty fnaf #montgomery gator headcanons #monty x reader #montgomery gator x reader #security breach x reader

[mymegumi]

GLORY

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader

summary: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of god

genre: far cry five au, enemies to not-quite lovers, darker themes, villain au. tbh not really a ship fic </3

word count: 3.7k

warnings: heavy talk of religion, cults, cultish manipulation, dubious morality, use of guns, bad characters, haikyuu!! characters portrayed as villains, fake drugs, mentions of abuse, torture, injuries, implied noncon drug use and swearing

notes: i want to preface this by saying this is much darker than the content i normally write. it is not my normal content, and i am hopeful that i tagged everything properly; please tell me if i didn’t! also i dipped a bit into a character study of the main character’s fetch quest idea, in which you do all the work that other’s in game easily could! nonetheless, if you still wanna read—i hope you enjoy!

Hope’s County was a desolate piece of shit.

It was filled to the brim with cultists that seemed to think the Coming was approaching, in which the Lord would cast down those who did not repent for their sins. Truthfully, you weren’t even all that religious, but finding out about the self-proclaimed Sin family had turned you off to the idea even more, turning your back on the faith of a warped version of Christianity to instead focus on your job.

Called into the deteriorating county, you were a simple deputy—a rookie with barely a few years of work under your belt. You weren’t too keen on your police work, often finding the job as systematically fucked as the government officials that decided to turn a blind eye to the Sin family since the youngest of the bunch had more money to wave around than you did to pay your monthly rent.

“Rook,” an unfortunate nickname that’d stuck around against your protestations, your superior—Daichi was nice, if not a bit too optimistic—called out to you, waving you over to the map of Hope’s County, red marker furiously drawn all over, “you’re still new: y’remember what I told you about Suna?”

“Second oldest of the brothers, he’s considered the least of a threat due to the fact he’s often working in the Bliss fields.” You poke your head out the window a bit, eyes searching over the high reaching tops of ficus trees, “It’s not really known if he ingests the drug and experiences the hallucination of his followers, but it can be assumed that he doesn’t, to maintain the power over those that do.”

Daichi nods his approval at you, and you feel a flare of resentment somewhere deep in your belly. You try not to, really you do, you’re a good person who’s good at your job, and sometimes you go to church when it’s Easter, but in the same breath, you don’t remember the last time you’d ever even considered confessing your so-called sins to a Father.

The number one sin on your list, so Atsumu had taunted to you as he held a knife to your throat, was apparently Pride—too prideful of your supposed Savior of Hope’s County title you’d been given, pride thrummed in your veins after every member of his Father’s cult you wiped out. You don’t really remember what had happened after that, vaguely that his younger twin brother had to all but pry him off of you, reminding the blond of their Father’s purpose for you.

It was the only reason you were still alive, the Father’s so-called purpose for you—the fact he saw in his visions a future where you were a key piece, the final chess piece moving to keep a king in check. Even despite the list of sins Atsumu insisted that you followed, pride seemingly the one that harbored the most space in your person.

You, however, knew what your sin was. It flared red and angry whenever Daichi talked down to you as if your some odd years in the force were wiped clean, and you were a true rookie yet again, no smarter than a civilian to the dark ways the world worked. It made heat run through your body whenever Kita, the Father of the Sin family, called you his greatest masterpiece as if he had any say in the way you were slowly turning into a war machine—plowing through his followers with scary ease and accuracy.

Your greatest sin reared its head whenever you faced Suna, too laid back, too uncaring, and the antithesis of everything that you stood for.

Wrath, you learned, made your hands shake when he smiled at you, edges looping as if the Bliss he grew just poured from every pore of his body.

“Not that one can really want to ingest bliss,” Daichi murmurs into his palm a bit, leaning over his map of Hope’s County, “It’s more you get too close to it and the fumes of it will get you.”

Bliss was, just as the Sin family was, something you’d never even come close to encountering before. It was a drug that they’d found, or crossbred, and it had hallucinogenic effects on whoever inhaled the product it released.

Batches of it were found all over the county, but the root of the source was in Suna’s valley of the land, affectionately known as Heaven Valley by those who couldn’t remember the name, or didn’t try to. You’d seen more than one group of people in hazmat suits having to clear out fields of it, and just watching them made your head dip and spin with the would-be effects if you’d gone any closer than you already were.

Bush of full, green leaves with seemingly innocent white flowers on it, the plant itself was harmless, and yet when allowed to convert carbon dioxide, it made a lethal gas that made anyone who got too close go mad. It was said that the family had even begun experimenting with grinding it into a powder or melting it down to its liquid state.

“Bunch of fucking crazies,” You mutter the words to yourself long after you’d left the solace of Daichi’s office, somewhere out in the valley and far out of earshot of anyone that might wonder which group of people you were referring to—the ones producing cult members at a daily rate that was intensely concerning, or the ones trying to stop them, “God, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“Hey, there, Dep, hope you’re tuned into my channel,” You could honestly groan, but you’re trying to make sure no one finds you on your perch in a tree somewhere, your 308 carbine’s scope not exactly focused on anything in particular, but at the ready. Suna’s voice is light and airy over the radio attached to your hip, though the sound is tuned to the earpiece you’re wearing, “Just wanted to let you know that ‘Tsumu’s missing you an awful lot. Says you left before he could have his fun, won’t stop pouting about it.”

You’re smarter than answering to a taunt that Suna sets out in front of you, and yet you can’t help but feel as if your lack of an answer is him winning. Maybe his so-called brother was right about the sin he’d tried carving into the flesh of your abdomen.

“You’d look real funny if I hadn’t picked up just now, Suna,” you whisper, eyes straying from the scope to the button that’s meant to be an answer to the other person on the line.

Suna’s laugh is a little grainy on the radio channel, but it’s not taunting like it usually is, joy written into the edges of his laugh, “And yet you’re on the other end of the line, answering me, dear Deputy. So who really looks funny in the end, hm?”

Fuck. The brunet had caught you, the lure of an unanswered challenge too much for you to pass up for your pride, a sin in and of itself. Maybe you should offer yourself up to Osamu and Atsumu again to get pride carved into your skin because apparently, your wrath wasn’t enough.

“Touché,” You start to climb down from the tree, slinging the gun over your shoulder as you huff into the receiver of the microphone. Your feet catch in the knots of the tree, and your hands start to blister a bit when you lose your footing, and yet Suna stays silent on the radio.

“Going silent on me, what was the point of the call—just to talk about your brother’s unfortunate hobbies with me?”

“Can’t a guy call out into the void and not expect someone to respond?” His smile is almost palpable over the radio call, however many times he flickers in and out of the call, “You’re always welcome to come visit my cabin, Dep.”

“Not in a million years,” feet now firmly planted on the ground, you have to right yourself a bit in orientation before you head towards the ATV you’d taken out to this part of the woods.

“I wouldn’t say that so definitely.”

Suna, of the Sin family, was often on the radio with you. He wasn’t always talking directly to you, no, sometimes he was just talking about idle parts of his day and there was a part of you that wondered if there was a part of him that just needed someone to talk to.

You always had to push the thoughts aside, however, tucking them somewhere deep into your chest so you wouldn’t sympathize with him. He was the cause for the murder of a multitude of people in Hope’s County, the root of the drug trade that went outside of the otherwise isolated county, and sometimes the despite it all, you sympathized with the man.

The Sin family was notorious in Hope’s County as not only being the leading members of the cult but because of their immigration status. Cast out of Japan in their early teens for following a faith so incorrectly, they found solace in the soil of a town in need of a direction, no matter how far off the beaten path it would take its members.

Kita Shinsuke, also known as the Father by those following their twisted version of Christianity, was the head of the operations. A prophet of fallacies or of forthcoming events, no one truly knew, and yet he claimed the words of God followed him in his sleep, that he couldn’t leave the Lord’s words unanswered.

The next of the group was often on his own, Ojiro Aran an isolated member of the family that preferred to stay in his section of the woods, away from the chaos that seemed to follow the youngest members of their little family. Ojiro was often known as the zookeeper, both for keeping the rowdy Osamu and Atsumu in line, while also because of his secondary role in the family—the trainer and breeder of wolves that were often used as indicators of one’s faith.

The Miya twins seemed to cause the most upfront issues for the Hope County Police Department, causing more than one silo to explode on the otherwise neutral farmlands. They seemed to have a flair for the dramatic, with their sins written on their bodies as if the Lord would accept their souls, rather than just their vessels. Sloth was scrawled across the younger of the two’s chest, with a matching Pride across the other’s, letters both a bit off-kilter.

The final member, of which enjoyed causing you, personally, the most trouble, was Suna Rintarou, genius beyond words and yet lazy beyond belief. For what he lacked in motivation, he made up for in creative and almost barbaric forms of punishment. His words were sharp around the edges, and yet they made everyone listen to the sermons he preached, like a moth drawn to the flame.

“My dear, sweet Rook, you seem to forget that this territory is mine,” you ignore the way he inflicts his claim on the land you’ve no right being on, and yet it sends something akin to fear down the lines of your spine, “You walk among these trees as if you’re hidden, and yet I always know where you are.”

“Sounds less like you know your territory,” you start, always willing to put up a fight with the brunet you’d not seen in at least a week, at this point, “and more like you’re stalking me—got a crush, Rintarou?”

“More like an infatuation,” his voice is just a purr, too velvety to just be jest, and yet there’s a part of you that knows you can’t trust a word this man says, “take what you want from that, darling, I’m not the one going to be thinking about it all night.”

Perhaps Atsumu had gotten your sin wrong, and perhaps there was a second option he’d never even considered—your human nature was multifaceted and ever-changing, and perhaps your sins were available in multitudes, rather than a singularity.

If he catches you again, you’d love to see his reaction to you saying you’d be willing to let him carve lust into your skin with his knife—love it even more if he asked who it was for.

Suna doesn’t say much more after that, just his usual spiel of the fact you need to atone for your sins, and that Osamu’s always willing to wash them from your skin in the river. You forget to mention your latest one isn’t one so easily erased from your skin, too deeply embedded in your bones, and you wear it like a second skin at this point.

That’s why you struggle, sometimes, against the Sin brothers and their outlandish claims of paradise meant for those who atone. You struggle because you know the weight of each sin you’ve ever committed—a book added to an already overflowing backpack of crimes against God.

Suna Rintarou, most of all, makes your blood simmer white-hot with unbridled rage—yet you’re not even sure why. It might be the lackadaisical smile that’s ever-present on his face, edges sloping and curving over his face as he taunts you, knives glinting in the sunlight of day. It might even be the way you want to press as close to him as possible, and run as far away from him as possible at the same time—ever the perfect contradiction, a paradox of which you’ve been unable to solve for your time at Hope’s County.

Perhaps the Sin family is right in the unmaking of the world, but your only proof is that God smites you by making Suna one of the most undeniably attractive men you’ve ever met.

Confident in a way that carries in the gait of his walk, and the way his shoulders settle on his frame, Suna knows that he’s got his claws deep in your skin—gripping you to keep you at a distance, and yet not letting you get any further away from him. As if you’d let him get away, your hands would be wrapped around the column of his neck—intent to kill or to offer pleasure, you’d just have to decide when the time came.

“Howdy, stranger.”

These woods must twist your sense of mind, pushing and pulling at the seams of your existence and the fabric that makes the foundation of your realities—the air must be contaminated. You’re not where you thought you were going: you’d been headed towards the Miyas’ territory with the sole purpose of destroying the sin of wrath that had been crawling its way up your throat, trying to escape at any chance.

Yet, you’ve ended up in Heaven’s Valley, and straight into Suna’s hand.

He stands before you, hands tucked into a pair of dark beige cargo pants with a loose leather vest as his only top, smooth skin covered in scars and tattoos on full display. For all that Atsumu spewed of repenting for your sins, confessions meant to be curled into skin with a blade, you had to admit that he was one hell of a tattoo artist.

Suna’s tattoos were unlike the harsh angles of Osamu’s, forgoing the looping script of the English language for the smooth strokes of Japanese. It was a harsh juxtaposition to the jagged letters of ‘greed’ splayed across the expanse of his lower belly, the bottom of the ‘g’ dipping underneath the waistband of his pants.

“Rintarou, what a surprise.” Your words slur a bit at the edges, and you’re not sure if it’s just from stepping into his land or being in his presence, but there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that Bliss dances in your system, “Can’t say I’m disappointed to see you.”

“How honest, sweet one,” his smile resembles a wolf, you come to the conclusion because despite the Sin family being described as a pack of foxes, there’s a carnal look in his eyes as he stares at you, “I like when you’re honest with me.”

“I like when you don’t shoot me on sight,” you vaguely remember a pistol at your hip, your carbine left behind in favor of a shotgun, “makes our little talks seem more personal.”

His laugh is clear, a bell in the fog that is your mind, “Do I often shoot at you, sweet one, for I believe it’s you that shoots first.”

“Mm,” you let your eyes flicker to his before you feel a crease form between your brows, “you still shoot back.”

“I never let a favor go unpaid, darling.” He’s closer to you now, a hand sliding along the curve of your arm, before resting just above your pulse point. His hand is warm, opposite of the cooling night air, “Yet you’ve done a favor for me I’ve not yet given anything in return for.”

“What?”

Your confusion is palpable even without your verbal input because Suna’s thumb is smoothing it away from your brow with his free hand. His eyes are darker now with the sun down, only the moonlight illuminating the outline of his face and there’s something about the sight that makes your skin rise, goosebumps lining your arms.

“Deputy,” the moniker is like a velvety purr against the exposed skin of your nape, “I’m a bit hurt that you don’t remember our very first meeting. It holds such a sweet spot in my heart, so for you to forget it cuts me deep to my core.”

You wrack your brain trying to remember the first time you’d met Suna, all those days ago at the beginning of the summer, when you’d been unscarred and unafraid of your allegiances. There was still a hopeful part of you, then, that had been so sure you could be the savior of these people.

“I don’t…” your voice trails off as you watch Suna walk back in front of you, his face calm as you worry at your bottom lip.

“Of course not,” a knife flickers in his hand, the silver blade gleaming in the pale light of the moon, “you were much too blissed out to remember, but there was information you provided that proved most useful.”

His hands trail along your arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake as you lean closer to him, drawn in as if connected by an invisible string. Suna’s leaned in closer now, close enough that you can feel his exhales fanning across your face gently; can see when his eyes flicker and dance on the lines of your features.

“Pretty little thing, too pretty to be fighting a war you never signed up for,” he muses softly as the back of his hand eases across your cheek, “my darling deputy, you told me you wished for an escape from the pressures, the responsibilities that the locals had forced upon you. You are but a single piece, yet you’re burdened with the work of a hundred pawns.”

You take a shuddering breath in, and you let the tension leave your body that had settled along the weight of your shoulders as soon as Suna let his presence be known. You let the need to shoot him rest, because despite this man being the suffering and cause of so many downfalls—he understood.

He understood your wrath, the feeling of it tingling in your fingertips whenever Daichi asked you to do a job that could easily be done by someone else. You were just a person who’d stumbled into Hope’s County at a precipice of change—down on your luck and thrust into a job and title that made you feel like an imposter. He knew your fists clenched whenever another civilian came to you, begging you to save their farm when indeed, it would do nothing in the end for the resistance.

Maybe he knew that underneath every mundane task that you helped others with, there was a vexation that ran along the lengths of your body at their inability to do things on their own. You loved the citizens of this county, you swore to protect them when you became a member of the police force, and yet an undeniable thrum of rage would flood your body when they leaned on you more than the other members of the resistance.

How lovely it was that someone else understood you, even if it was Suna Rintarou.

Why were you fighting them so hard? Your mind supplies this thought too easily, like shrugging on a hoodie on a cold night, and it flits around your brain and fills in the empty spaces that Suna keeps tearing in your psyche.

You remember the end of the sermon that Kita had spoken when you first went to arrest him, all those months ago when the summer was licking at spring’s heels. He’d been haloed in the rays of the evening sun that filtered into the partially broken down church, hands spread with a rosary wrapped tightly against his left hand.

“For all have sinned,” he had spoken softly, eyes locking with yours as soon as the doors opened, and you felt panic strike you still, Daichi pressing on your shoulder to make you continue walking, “and fall short of the glory of God.”

If you were a sinner already falling from His good graces, why not enter hell with a list of sins that made the Devil take a breath in? Were you not already marked for damnation—what good would siding with Suna Rintarou and his family of fucked up prophets do for you?

“Rintarou,” his name leaves your mouth breathlessly, “if I’m going to hell, I’m going to drag you and your family with me.”

His eyes flash with something you can’t quite place your finger on, and yet the feeling it gives you runs along your spine with a chill, “You’re making a mistake. My family and I will find you, no matter where you are, and no matter what trouble you kick up.”

You press a kiss along the curve of his jaw, not missing the way his hands clench at his sides, “Then come catch me.”

There’s a part of you that hates that Atsumu was right because pride sinks into your bones with the fact that you leave with the last word. The last laugh is yours as you leave Suna in the dust of your exit, not knowing if there was another way it could have ended, if you’d just taken the hand he’d extended to you.

t.list — @nekomabvc

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