Say You Still Dare To Dream .

━━ say you still dare to dream .

Sunday has lost everything. His status, his home, his sister, all of it has slipped through his fingers, all for a failed attempt at salvation. Now imprisoned and destined to live his life in shameful shadow, you, his former subordinate, appear to offer him one last chance of redemption.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: aftermath of 2.3, depression, sunday at his lowest

word count: 1.5k

a/n: depressed sunday is my favorite sunday. like damn bro you got BROKEN ig this is what being rammed by a train 8 times does to a man... ANYWAYS. DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY THIS IS JUST ME DOING SOME WRITING PRACTICE WITH BEING DRAMATIC hunches over and dies

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina

“I can only allow you a few minutes at most,” says the woman in purple.

A devil in velvet, that was what they called her. Although she may not look like much - from a distance, you’d mistake her as yet another filthy rich vacationer of Penacony - up close, her snake-like eyes and elegantly poised stature, always ready to strike unsuspecting prey, told you just how dangerous she was.

Lady Bonajade, the Stoneheart of Credit and the most deranged loan shark the galaxy had to offer. She who does the impossible and creates miracles for the price of one’s livelihood.

She, who is currently the master who holds the life of the fallen Oak Family Head in her perfectly manicured hands.

You meet her chilling gaze with steeled eyes. With a deep breath, you force down the lodge in your throat.

“I understand.”

Jade smiles. It is neither threatening nor comforting, although you cannot help but feel unsettled by her calm amusement.

“Most of the Family has turned their back on Mr. Sunday,” she comments, crossing her arms and tapping one nail against her arm. “Why haven’t you, I wonder? Surely, a mere subordinate wouldn’t be so loyal to a traitor of this degree.”

You know better than to answer her. After all, all of her questions are rhetorical - tests. She already knows their answers, she just wants to hear them come from your lips.

But you don’t give her that satisfaction. Your silence is answer enough.

You walk past her and come before a heavily armored vault door. A bit much, in your opinion, for a man who has spent the majority of his life asleep. But he is also the man who had taken control of the Asdana system and nearly ascended into Aeonhood, so this level of security is to be expected.

Hundreds of locks and gears turn before the doors open with a hiss and a billowing of smoke. With a mental prayer to Xipe for strength, you step into the dark cell.

There’s little to no light in the small room, leaving you to wonder how Sunday had managed to stay sane all this time. You already know the cells are essentially soundproof, and with so little light, the Family’s prisoners were shut off from the rest of the world and their senses.

The brief rustle of chains catches your attention, and you turn your gaze to the iron throne at the center of the room.

Oh, how far he has fallen.

Once gleaming gold has lost its luster, reflecting not sympathy nor love like you had known them to, but defeat and a resigned acceptance. Fair skin has become drained and faded like that of a corpse. Feather-like hair, once so meticulously cared for, is ruined and frayed.

Bound are the hands that would never raise against another, and shackled are the wings that have never known flight. Caged is the bird who has known no other home; only now, his gilded shackles have become sullied, ugly, disdainful.

He is hollow, empty in every sense of the word - drained of what little vitality he once had.

“Sir,” comes your whisper. He doesn’t respond.

Your footsteps are heavy as you approach. Sunday’s head is bowed - something his pride would’ve never allowed back in the day.

Once upon a time, you had found his arrogance annoying, hypocritical even. Yet at the same time, it was endearing, knowing that even the perfect and saint-like Sunday had his faults. In a sense, it had brought him down to earth, it had made him human.

Seeing him like this, so despondent and defeated, makes you long for the days where he’d scoff at the IPC or make back-handed compliments for his own sick pleasure.

“Sir,” you repeat. You stop before him, and kneel down to one knee.

Sunday’s eyes flick to meet yours, before dropping down to his lap, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. Out of guilt, or out of scorn, you don’t know.

“Why have you come?”

Your heart aches at his voice. It cracks from the days without use, deeper than his typical chirp.

“I am a sinner, a traitor to the Family.” Not once does he meet your gaze again as he speaks. “Visiting me…”

He exhales.

“You should leave.”

“I won’t.”

His hands clench from where they’re bound to the arms of his throne. Briefly, annoyance flashes over him, before he lets it wash away with a slump of his shoulders.

“It would be easier if you just- left me here,” he says painstakingly. “I am of no use to you anymore - if anything, I am a stain. Abandoning me… is the logical thing to do.”

“You and your logistics,” you sigh. “Did it never once occur to you that I cared for you as a person, and not just as my superior?”

His eyes are shaking. Sunday’s expression is pained, like that of a grieving mother.

“Why?” he asks again, his face straining as he tries to understand. “Why are you here?”

Your answer is simple. “To free you.”

Bitterly, the corners of his lips twitch in a cynical chuckle.

“You of all people should know that I was not meant for freedom,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “That is what you believe. Lady Bonajade and I agree that you deserve to have this chance.”

“Lady Jade, huh?” Resentment flashes in his irises as he scoffs. “So you intend to coerce me into accepting charity from the IPC?”

Hurt pangs at your chest and you flinch. “That isn’t-”

“Spare me the concern,” Sunday spits, turning his head. “I may have fallen, but I still have my pride. If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.”

For a moment, you are speechless. Then you are indignant, and you rise slightly, your brows furrowed.

“Why are you so willing to accept your fate?” you ask, almost angrily.

Sunday exhales. “What else am I expected do?”

“This can’t be how your story ends." Your fist balls up the fabric of your pants in its grip. “Locked away, isolated from the rest of the world - that can’t be what you want. It is too cruel a fate for you.”

For you, who loved humanity so deeply.

“Tell me,” you say, gazing up at the man who had torn his skin and carved his heart for the people. “Tell me you want to be freed, and I will do so. I’ll take care of everything. All I need is for you to say that you want it.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers after a moment of silence. “Why, for me…”

“What is there to understand?”

“This is unreasonable,” he starts.

“Not for me, it isn’t,” you say softly. “If it’s for you, nothing is unreasonable.”

His voice raises, trembling upon its crumbling pedestal, panic seeping into every word. “I don’t deserve that kindness - that mercy. I am a sinner, I am a traitor, I am-”

“You are a man worth saving.”

Sunday’s eyes fly open. He stares at you, eyes wide with surprise, his lips parted as to say something, only for the words to die on his tongue.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from how long you’ve been looking up at him, but you push the pain aside.

“The Sunday I knew was kind and gentle,” you say, subconsciously leaning forward. Pent-up emotions, cumulated through the years, begin to bleed into your voice, weighing it down. “He always looked out for the weak, and cared when no one else did. He put others before himself, and even if he was a little arrogant, he was selfless.”

“No,” Sunday protests weakly. “I am not- You- I-”

“You are so much more than you allow yourself to be.”

Rising from the floor, your knees aching slightly, you gently take the face of the fallen angel in your hand. Cradling him like glass, you force him to look at you, to look one of the many he’d betrayed in the face, and see the love for him despite it all.

“Sunday, do you wish for freedom?”

For the many years you’ve worked under him, his eyes have always been a cold gem, calm and unfettered. Never have you seen them glossy with tears, threatening to break at any moment.

You see fear and desire clashing as he grapples for the first time, a choice not for the people, but for himself. You see the beliefs that have been molded into him beginning to crack. You see the caged bird gaze at the world beyond his bars, and for the first time, want to soar beyond them.

Sunday’s lips open and close as he struggles to find the right words to say.

“Where will I go?” he asks instead, tearing his gaze away. It is answer enough.

You smile softly.

“Anywhere you desire.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

it has been 10 years (~a month) since i have last heard from my husband (kn8 manga update). i announce this with a heavy heart that i am slowly starting to lose hope of ever hearing from the love of my life (hoshina soshiro) ever again 😔😔. if anyone has news about his whereabouts, please notify me immediately 🙏🙏

– in between missions.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: it's been an eventful six months since sunday joined the stellaron hunters. today marked one of their very rare day offs, and what better way to spend the day with the people that's taken care of him.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, mentions of blood in some parts.

– author's note: updated the lore in this little mini-series (?) LMAOO thank you sunday leaks on sunday for bringing me back to life. so sorry for being a bit ia, tumblr has been such a pain in the ass that it slightly demotivated me to write. new layout for sunday fics too so yippie!! (totally not foreshadowing). art credits to 冒火锅海台 on Weibo for the art. | 4.1k words (LMFAO).

MORNING — 6:00 A.M.

before, sunday would wake up at the crack of dawn; waiting for the sun’s rays as he watered the plants he’d been taking care of. now –he still wakes up earlier than most– he spends his mornings in a big kitchen with the sound of kafka’s humming filling the bubbles of silences that start to form. it was always a pleasure helping the older woman cook everyone’s breakfast without having their loud bickering in the background (though sometimes he would grow paranoid if he never heard it throughout the day; he’s grown used to your voices).

before missions started, all the petty quips, and the laughter, sunday appreciated the quiet moments he gets to share with kafka.

“sunny, can you take over for me? i need to defrost silver wolf’s nuggets.”

sunday only hummed in response. body lazily slipping itself into kafka’s previous position of frying the leftover rice from yesterday. “sunny” was the woman’s name for him; a form of endearment, you said, she does it to everyone. sunday would never admit it himself (kafka often teased how adorable his morning voice was so he tried not to speak until after breakfast), but hearing that little nickname always sent a flurry of little butterflies down to his chest. collecting the pollen from the flowers you’ve carefully placed in between his ribs and spreading it all over his chest. no one has ever given him such a casual nickname before, so sunday had started to cling to it like a lifeline.

when the clock strikes 7:30, it usually means you're about to wake up. after patting his hands dry on a spare kitchen towel, sunday lifts his head and there you are. a small smile spread across his lips when you greeted kafka with a side hug. you still had your bed hair and your eyes were barely open; it was an endearing sight to see.

“good morning,” sunday snaps out of his daze when an arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him close to your chest. sunday could distinctly smell the chocolate you ate with silver wolf the night before and the soft remnants of your scented candle. he let his head lean more into your touch as he mumbles a soft good morning straight to your heart. ignoring the pair of eyes that crinkle in amusement behind the kitchen counter.

by the time 7:50 rolls around, you’re fully awake. a cup of coffee in your hands as you, him, and kafka go door to door to wake up your little group. from the corner of sunday’s eyes, he sees kafka peer over blade’s door and a grumpy okay go through. on the other end, he sees you greet firefly good morning with a hug before disappearing into another hall to come and get elio. 

before he could even knock on silver wolf’s door, the wooden thing pulled open and he was met with the sight of the silver haired girl looking down at her game console. he chuckled in amusement, patting down the stray hairs that poked up and guided her to the kitchen. he made sure to ask if she’s beaten the boss yet and when she replied with an angry huff, sunday took it as a sign to not bring it up for a while.

it's already 8:10 when everyone is sitting down around the kitchen table. plates of warm fried rice, chicken nuggets, some slices of fruits, pancakes, and multiple cups of teas and coffees were laid down on the table. small chatter started to arise and sunday could feel the energy start to spike as well. as he took bite after bite until he felt your knee bump into his. when he turned to you, he was met with the sight of you pushing more food in his direction.

“you need to eat more,” you said before taking a bite of your pancake. “you’ll need the extra nutrients if you want to fly again.”

sunday just smiled and accepted your offerings without as much as a word.

roughly an hour passes before everyone is cleaning up their spaces. blade was on dishes duty while the rest went back to their rooms to get changed. sunday was in his quarters, buttoning up a spare polo blade had given him when he heard a knock on his door.

“good morning again.” you greet with a smile.

sunday smiled in return and urged you to come in. “good morning to you, too.”

“kafka and firefly are going out for groceries. do you want anything?”

sunday was taken back to the days where he would water the plants in his office back in the penacony. how he would run his finger down each leaf and smile to himself when a flower starts to bloom. if sunday only joined a few weeks ago, he’d declined immediately. but it's been almost half a year since he’s joined, and he’s feeling a bit more comfortable with asking for more personal things.

“plants,” he replies. “the small ones that are easy to take care of.”

you tilt your head curiously like an owl. “why plants?”

“i used to take care of some flowers back in dewlight pavilion every morning. i’d like to get back into that, if you don’t mind.”

sunday recognized that little smirk of yours. with a shake of his head, he accompanies you out his room after fixing up his hair and bid farewell to kafka and firefly.

“let’s get you all the plants you want then.” 

AFTERNOON — 2:38 P.M.

training in the afternoon was something sunday didn’t get quite used to. even now as he’s exchanging blows with blade, he feels quite unsure of his grip around the hilt of the wooden sword; how his footwork felt sloppy and uncoordinated. sunday wasn’t shocked (maybe, just slightly, a bit bitter) when the dark haired man knocked him off his feet for the seventh time in under two hours.

“you’re overthinking things too much,” the man grumbled, offering his hand to him. “it’s written all over your face; stop thinking about the nitty gritty things and start focusing on the task at hand. if you keep focusing on your opponent's footwork, you’ll end up ignoring his swings.”

“right, apologize. let’s go again.”

sunday had never felt such a competitive surge of emotions come over him whenever he trained with blade. the way he swung the charred sword in his hands; his body and how it moved so fluidly like water; and his determination to win despite beating him by more than a mile; it made sunday want to genuinely get better. blade fought like it would be his last battle, and he would go down with a fight.

“mister is getting better,” muttered silver wolf as she collapsed face first by your side, finishing her own training with elio. “he’s keeping up with the old man now.”

you brush away the bangs that stuck to her forehead and offer her a towel. elio, now in their cat form, sat down on your other side and started playing with the orange peels. “sunday has improved a lot huh? it feels like it was just yesterday when he first joined.”

“for reals.” the silver haired girl stretched and tried to reach over for the oranges.

a memory resurfaced in sunday’s mind when he caught sight of you peeling oranges for silver wolf. how you looked particularly at peace in the moment. his mind replayed the image of robin when she came back to penacony after the accident. he had such an intense amount of guilt for not being by her side at such a hard time, he isn't quite sure how to put it into words. 

“brother!” shouted robin as she entered his office, a bright smile on her face and her phone in hand.

before he could utter a word she had shoved her phone to his face, “an orange?” he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

robin nodded and said, “they say when someone close to you peels your oranges, it's a sign of having a strong relationship! is that why you’ve been peeling my oranges for me recently?”

sunday felt the wind be knocked out of him as his world turned upside down. blade had flipped him over to his back and as the cherry on top, whacked him on the head with his wooden sword. 

“for not paying attention,” he grumbled. “let’s call it a day.”

he didn’t get much of a word in when blade was already seated beside silver wolf (the girl shoving an orange slice to his mouth and him accepting it silently). sunday gets up from his lying position, patting down the dust on his (blade’s) clothes and takes a seat next to you. 

“do you mind opening your wings for me?” you ask as you place a small plate of orange slices on his lap.

taking one in his hand and a small bite, he lets the pair of wings by his waist stretch out and lay on your lap. your careful fingers and observant eyes scanning over every feather, smoothing out the ones that stuck out. it wasn’t long before silver wolf put down her console and started poking at his wings too.

“do you feel that, mister?” she asks.

he shakes his head with a small smile, “no, i do not.”

she only hummed and looked up at you. “will he be able to fly soon?”

you take a few seconds to respond.

“soon,” you mutter as your hands re-adjusted the exoskeleton that’s been supporting them. “they look better than when you first arrived. you seem rather curious, what gives?”

silver wolf pouted and shoved at you lightly. your chuckle rang in his ears like music. the same melodies he would play on his record player when the night feels too long. sunday leaned more to your side when the younger girl showed a pixelated character in her game and pointed to its wings. 

“when you fly again, mister, you have to take me with you!” she excitedly exclaimed with stars in her eyes. “i’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to fly.”

sunday felt a tug deep within his heart when he looked into her eyes. silver wolf, surprisingly, was very welcoming of him when he first joined. they got along fine and would even spend their free time in each other’s company. her excited demeanor reminded him of how robin looked when he first took to the skies. the animated expression on her face; her grin reaching her eyes; and the way she’s leaning forward in anticipation.

“when i fly again, i’ll be sure to let you know first.”

his reply was all the more worth it when the girl jumped in delight and landed on blade’s back. your laughter along with silver wolf’s excited blabbering and even blade’s protests made more flowers bloom inside his chest. sunday ceased his chuckling when he realized he had run out of oranges to eat. before he could even ask for more you’re already replacing his empty one with a new plate filled with peeled oranges.

“i can peel them myself, [name].” he says almost in a whisper.

“i know you can,” you dangle the orange peel in front of elio and let them play with it and stack them in a pile. “but let me do it for you.”

EVENING — 6:00 P.M.

“it’s my turn to decide what we get to eat!”

“it’s been your turn for two weeks. if anything, it’s my turn now.”

sunday could only push the two further and further apart, or at least try too. blade was a foot taller than him and obviously more bulked up than him; silver wolf might be the shortest but she knows how to use it to her advantage, zooming from one place to another like a little mouse. he could only plead with a lopsided smile when you enter the kitchen, your towel around your neck to catch the stray waters that dropped from your hair.

you sighed with the shake of your head and pulled silver wolf back into your chest. two arms snugly wrapped around her small shoulders as she kicked and pointed at blade. sunday on the other hand stepped in front of the man with a stretched arm, trying to calm down the silver haired girl as best as he could.

“at this point if you two can’t decide then i’ll just cook whatever i want.” you joked. both heads turned towards you and glared, but you only laughed and let silver wolf stomp her way to sit on the kitchen counter. “how about some sweet and spicy chicken for dinner? that way you both get what you want.”

sunday watched in amusement as silver wolf jutted her lower lip and mumbled on how she wanted cake. blade only slumped his shoulders and grumbled a low fine and started helping you take out all the ingredients from the fridge as well as the pans and bowls.

“i swear you two have worse cravings than a pregnant wom– ow!” you didn’t get to finish when blade purposely knocked your head when he opened a cabinet. your eyes narrowed at him while he only shrugged. a playful smirk on his lips as he shoved your head lower when you went to berate him.

a soft nudge on sunday’s back pushed him a bit forward. elio’s blue eyes in their cat form met his own gold ones and the two stared for a while. the cat motioned his head towards you and blade who chatted over dinner, not long, silver wolf also joined. 

“go join them.” was all they said before jumping down from the table and going to who knows where.

sunday didn’t get a chance to reply when a pair of arms snuck around his waist. he let out a noise between a surprised gasp and a shout that made you snort in amusement. when he turned to glare at you, you only stuck your tongue out and tied the apron around his waist.

“come help us make dinner, sunday.” 

and how could he say no when you’re already dragging him by the apron to the kitchen aisles with all the ingredients laid down.

by 7:15 p.m., kafka and firefly enter through the door and are met with a memorably amusing sight of sunday almost collapsing on their dining table as elio pushes a carton of milk to his direction. you and silver wolf were laughing at him with pointing hands and tears in your eyes. even blade cracked his own chuckle and rolled his eyes playfully as the halovian kicked him in the shin.

the taller woman surmised that sunday had fallen victim to blade’s insane spice addiction. the stray silver spoon on the table with the sauce was evidence. kafka let out a chuckle as firefly came over to his side –still keeping a bit of distance– and asking if he was alright.

“thought you were only getting groceries?” you ask with a raised brow. eyes surveying the amount of bags she and firefly had in their hands.

“there was a sale for clothes,” kafka reasoned. “how could we say no?”

you shake your head in disbelief and give the woman a side hug. “dinner will be ready in ten. help the poor angel soothe his tongue in the meantime.”

kafka laughed as she dropped her bags by the living room couch and guided sunday to sit down. firefly handed him an empty glass and offered to pour the milk in it. he shook his head no and did it himself. the poor boy downed the drink in one go and it didn’t seem enough to soothe his burning tongue so firefly went to get another carton from the fridge.

sunday furrowed his brows and stuck out his tongue. no doubt his taste buds won’t be working for a while.

“why does blade put so much spice in his food?” he questions the older woman who only smiled. her eyes glazed over to where the said man was and sunday followed. 

“bladie can’t taste anything that isn’t spicy,” kafka said, her eyes not once leaving blade’s figure. “a living corpse can’t really taste anything. spice is considered a pain sensation; pain is the only thing he can feel and taste.”

sunday frowns at this new information. he knows little of blade’s past and had made no effort to try and dig it up. he was curious, yes, but it must be an incredibly sensitive topic if every night the man slips away from his bedroom seeking you or kafka out to soothe the mara that’s coursing through his body.

“i… see.” a hand came to ruffle up his hair. he looked up to see kafka smiling down at him and handed him another cup of milk.

“try to ask him about it someday. maybe you’ll be able to help.”

sunday keeps that information at the back of his mind until everyone finishes cooking dinner.

the clock hit 7:25 and everyone decided to eat by the living room to see what kafka and firefly bought in their mini shopping spree. he sat in between you and blade on the floor, using the small coffee table in front of you to hold your food while silver wolf sat on the couch behind him. her legs over your shoulders and slouched on the couch.

time surprisingly passed slowly tonight. only ten minutes had actually passed of kafka showing off her new coat, but to sunday it had felt like eternity. he absentmindedly tossed his food around his plate, pushing away all the spicy pieces of chicken to the edge of his plate.

“not eating the spicy chicken now are we?” sunday whipped his head to blade and glared. warmth rising to his cheeks, wings fluttering in embarrassment when he remembered what had happened not too long ago. 

“your “normal” amount of spice nearly sent me to a coma,” he rebutted with a roll of his eyes. “so pardon me for not wanting to be sent to the hospital.”

you let out a loud laugh and leaned back on the couch. silver wolf was now using his head as support when she agreed wholly with his statement. firefly let out a quiet cough to silence her laugh while kafka chuckled. blade only rolled his eyes and took the pieces of chicken on his plate and placed it on his own.

“you said you wanted to try.” he argued back. a teasing lilt to his voice as he placed a piece of chicken to his mouth to add more salt to the injury.

“a grave mistake that was.”

you cease your laughing and lean on your propped up arm. “well look at you two, getting along so well!”

sunday scowled while blade scoffed. both picking up pieces of food and silently chewing. what started as a small bump of sunday’s elbow turned into a small petty argument about spice tolerance.

“it is quite sweet of you bladie,” kafka started. “for taking all the spicy pieces off of sunny’s plate, i mean.” 

you jumped to the wagon immediately and nodded. “agreed! you’ve never done that for anyone here before. i’m starting to think you’re playing favorites.”

“one more word and i’m dumping the rest of the chili oil on your plates.”

that had shut you up immediately. for extra measures, you scooted away from them both with your plate close to your chest. “shutting up now…”

NIGHT — 11:20 P.M.

sunday let out a long sigh as he tossed and turned in his bed. he had lost count of how many times he’s replayed tonight’s dinner in his mind to at least try and get some sleep and not be plagued by his nightmares. tonight was joyful, and he’d like to keep it that way till the end of the day. but his insomnia had struck him again like always. he’s already drunk two pills from the medication you bought him and it's yet to take effect.

with one last sigh, sunday threw off the sheets over his body and stalked out of his room as quietly as he could. the base was dark in the dead of night. the halls looked more ominous and longer than normal, something he believed was taken out of a horror film. when he first wandered these halls at this hour, sunday would feel the pricks of his paranoia.

but unlike the first time, there were no longer stray feathers of ravens following his wake. his feet weren’t stained by his blood as he dragged his body to the direction of salvation. in these halls, sunday wasn’t carrying a knife he used to plunge into his own chest to try and make the weight of the sins he didn’t commit a little lighter. he was free; free as he could be in the safety of everyone’s presence.

his gaze shifted to the slightly ajar door that led to your workshop. he frowned as he realized you were staying up late again. when he peered into the small crack, sunday was met with the sight of firefly hunched over your desk, sound asleep with stray pieces of fabric by her feet.

the nights at base were usually cold so sunday quickly walked to his room again to get a spare blanket. as quietly as he could, the halovian entered your workshop, silently cursing when the door creaked slightly. making sure he didn’t step on any of the fabrics on the floor, sunday draped the blanket over the girl’s shoulders.

another memory of his resurfaced. on nights like these, robin would sneak into his office with a pillow and blanket in her hands. she would guide his head gently to lay on the pillow and not the harsh wooden table and make sure the blanket over his shoulders didn’t slip until morning came. by instinct, sunday’s hand came to smooth down firefly’s hair and whispered good night.

he started picking up the stray pieces of whites, blues, and blacks from the floor and neatly folded them one by one. placing them in neat piles on your table. with one last look to firefly’s figure, he smiled to himself and quietly shut the door behind him. his next stop was the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea.

“he’s gone now, firefly.”

even as you called out to her, firefly did not budge and kept her head in between her folded arms. you shook your head and sat down next to her. you had witnessed what happened and you could only guess the conflicted feelings the girl felt.

“do you think he’s a bad person, little knight?” you ask, hands picking up one of the fabrics sunday had graciously folded and laid them on the table. a measuring tape around your shoulders and a pencil snuggly on your ear.

“he’s done bad things, but…” you hum in reply. firefly’s voice was muffled because of her arms but you heard her perfectly fine, much to her dismay. “i don’t think he’s a fully bad person. i just find it… awkward to interact with him.”

“do you want to interact with him?” you wonder. “as friends i mean.”

firefly finally raised her head. hand clutching the blanket draped over her shoulders as the other ghosted over the spot where sunday had patted down and whispered good night.

“i don’t know.”

you only hum. “sunday is rather strange isn’t he? he’s quite the piece of work if you ask me.”

“what about you?” firefly fires back, scooting her chair closer to you. “do you think he’s a bad person.”

“no. no i don’t.” you answer immediately and feel firefly pause. “he’s kindest person i’ve ever met.”

“i see…”

you pat her head gently and fixate your gaze back to your table.

“he’s a lot more like us than anyone expected. sunday has done bad things that hurt those around him, but we’ve also done that haven’t we? take your time. all of us were lonely at some point, so it’s also his first time he’s ever craved someone’s company. we’ve all done that too, didn’t we?”

when a new day started (around 1:56 a.m.) she made her way back to her room. sunday’s blanket was still wrapped around her even when she laid down on her own bed. she never pointed out how you purposefully drafted a space for the ticket you’ve always hidden on sunday’s new uniform.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

  — ★ LIKE CATS AND DOGS

☆ — “OH, VICE-CAPTAIN HOSHINA, YOU PLAY KAIJU IMPACT TOO?”

FEATURING: Narumi Gen x f!reader x Hoshina Soshiro

SYNOPSIS: Everyone knows by now that Captain Narumi Gen has the hots for you, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Unluckily for him, a certain Vice-Captain of the Third Division finds the whole situation very amusing.

CONTENT: [2,6k words] female reader, reader is a platoon leader in the first division, hoshina is a menace, pining narumi, manga version so hoshina has red eyes, sparring with hoshina and narumi, basically a collection of narumi and hoshina fighting over you, no beta we die like men

You wish Narumi would just drop the act. 

Does he really think he’s being slick? He, the First Division’s resident lazy bum, who for some reason always asks you to spar with him out of all the platoon leaders? Maybe if he doesn’t act so weird about it, you’d be none the wiser — but who is he fooling when he continues to compliment your abilities and patch up your injuries, all the while flaming someone else for being a weakling?

Yeah, everyone caught on pretty fast that there’s something going on between you two.

This morning, he once again orbits around you with the excuse of “I’m also going this way!”, only to instantly be caught in his own lie when Vice-Captain Hasegawa drags him off to the opposite direction, scolding him for playing around instead of getting to the meeting room. 

Good God. All you wanted in life is a cool, steady job in the Defense Force. How the hell did you manage to catch the eye of your dashingly handsome superior?

Director General Shinomiya drones on in the background as you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. Narumi is sitting diagonally from you, his gaze burning into you as he mindlessly taps the desk with his long fingers. Out of the corner of your eye you see Hasegawa elbowing his arm for the third time that day. His head drops and he turns to glare at the man irritably before straightening his position — but before long, his eyes drift over to you once more.

In front of you, Vice-Captain Hoshina is smiling. 

Shit. Your gaze drops to your lap as you feel your cheeks warming up. In the middle of trying to steal glances at your Captain, you accidentally made the mistake of looking at the Third Division’s Vice-Captain while he’s looking at you.

Wait. He’s looking at you…? Surely not. His eyes are always narrowed into slits, it makes it hard to tell where he’s actually looking. You raise your head in uncertainty, only to see that Hoshina is now resting his chin on top of his intertwined fingers, his grin wide and his eyes still very much staring at you.  

Your heart jumps and you immediately avert your gaze elsewhere — as luck would have it, back to Captain Narumi, who seems to notice that you’re distracted.

He turns his head to follow your earlier line of sight, leaning forward in his seat to see who you were staring at. Shockingly, Vice-Captain Hoshina does the same. You watch in horror as the two men turn their heads in perfect sync and lock eyes, two sharp red orbs clashing into each other.

Narumi doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he is fuming while Hoshina’s grin only spreads wider.

Fuck.

Narumi is grumbling when he walks out of the conference room. He hates big meetings. He doesn’t need Shinomiya to talk his ear off to know that there has been a kaiju uprising in the recent months. He’s the one who’s fighting in the frontlines, god damn it.

“What are you doing?” As he leans against the wall, Hasegawa spots him and eyes at him incredulously.

Narumi shrugs, trying to act indifferent. “Nothing.”

Hasegawa shakes his head and leaves.

After having a few people salute him, Narumi finally spots you emerging from the room. He smiles and pushes himself off the wall. He’s about to make his way to you when he sees you turn your head abruptly. He pauses, watching as your figure retreat, obstructed slightly by the opened door. When you re-emerge, you’re no longer alone.

Hoshina Soshiro is folding his hands behind his back as he saunters out, walking next to you a little bit too close for comfort while smiling that creepy smile of his.

It’s cliche, but at that moment, Narumi Gen sees red. Watching you and Hoshina disappear into the corner, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and follows suit.

Vice-Captain Hoshina is a very skilled combatant. You’ve heard the rumors, but still...

It’s amazing how you manage to narrowly dodge a slash before pivoting out the way from a kick he directs at your sides. You take a swing at him with your blade, but he’s much more skillful with weapons than you are — he deflects it with his own twin swords before bringing the hilt to your knuckles, hitting it in the hopes of disarming you.

You grit your teeth and clench your blade, jerking it his way so hard that it knocks both his left sword and your own weapon. Both fall to the ground, clattering away out of your reach. 

Hoshina smiles, throwing away his other sword and gesturing for you to come to him. You accept the invitation. Closing the distance, you bring your knee up to kick him in the stomach. It feels like you hit a brick wall as you connect with his body — but still, a hit is a hit, and landing a hit on the Hoshina Soshiro is an impressive feat.

You learn your lesson not to get distracted in a fight when he suddenly grabs your knee with his hands and pulls on it so hard that you lose your footing. The whole world spins before your eyes — (you have a sudden sinking feeling that he took that hit on purpose) — as your crash to the ground. Grimacing, you let out a shaky breath. God damn, that hurt.

Hoshina’s face appears shortly after. “Ya’ alright? Quite a tumble you took there.”

You relax against the floor, trying to catch your breath. “Uh-huh. That was…” Letting Hoshina pull you up, you almost fall forward at the sheer exhaustion but manage to stop yourself from colliding into his chest. “... that was very enlightening. Thank you, Vice-Captain Hoshina.”

“You’re welcome, Platoon Leader. It’s refreshing to fight with you.”

Receiving a praise from the Defense Force's strongest close-quarters combatant makes you blush. You force your gaze downwards, trying to avoid Hoshina’s eyes. Suddenly you realize that he is still holding your hand, causing you yelp in surprise and immediately jerk your hand away.

Hoshina merely laughs, running his now-free hand through his hair. “Say, Platoon Leader, ya’ wanna grab a bite after this?”

Before you can answer, a tornado sweeps his way into the room.

“Hoshinaaaa!!” You snap your head to the door, surprised to see Captain Narumi marching towards you, his expression twisted in anger, “Who the hell gave you permission to spar with my platoon leader?!”

“My, if it isn’t Captain Narumi.” Hoshina is unbothered even as Narumi glares at him like he’s a pesky bug, “I don’t see how I need your permission to spar against someone. It’s not against the rules or anythin’~”

Hoshina’s breezy tone only makes Narumi seethe more. “You— you— I— !” He struggles to make a comeback, finally settling his gaze on you. “You! You’re coming with me!”

With that, he’s dragging you away, leaving behind a thoroughly amused Hoshina who’s waving at you goodbye with a grin on his face.

Eating is supposed to be a relaxing activity.

Instead, you’re squished between Captain Narumi of the First Division and Vice-Captain Hoshina of the Third Division, with everyone from different divisions gawking at your star-studded table.

There’s a blazing inferno on your left (Narumi stabbing his potatoes with his fork, fuming) and an icy chill on your right (Hoshina gulping down the remains of his green tea, unbothered by the whole thing).

Truth be told, your captain is intimidating as hell when he’s in a bad mood, so you decide to turn your attention to the lesser evil. Hoshina seems to be finished with his food as he opens his phone to play a game.

“Oh, Vice-Captain Hoshina, you play Kaiju Impact too?”

Narumi snaps his neck so instantaneously, he almost got whiplash from it.

“Ye~p! It’s fun, I just got the newest five star character.”

“Huuhh?! No way! You’re so lucky! I lost my 50/50...”

“We should play together sometime. Let me add you.”

“S-sure! I’m still new at this, though...”

Without warning, Narumi leans sideways to join the conversation, causing you to lean back in alarm.

“What level are you?” He questions, narrowing his eyes to look at Hoshina’s phone before chortling obnoxiously. “Ha! Still at Level 30?! I’m already at Level 60!” He turns his head to look at you, “You sure you want to play with this noob?! Play with me instead!”

Hoshina sighs exaggeratedly. “Your enemies are too hard for her, dumbass. She’s just gonna get 1-hit-KO’ed. Platoon Leader, you’re better off playing with me.”

Narumi sputters. “Huh?! I can carry you, you don’t need to do anything!”

“Then why play at all? You’re probably just looking for an opportunity to brag, right?”

“What?! Y-You’d rather play with me, right?! Right?!”

You massage your temples in exhaustion. Forget it. You’d rather just exterminate kaiju in real life instead.

You liked having a new sparring partner. Hoshina doesn’t go easy on you, but he’s always careful with his movements. It makes you feel both acknowledged and taken care of.

Narumi, on the other hand...

You yelp as the full force of Narumi’s power pushes you to the ground, knocking both your weapon and your breath away. Panting to catch your breath, you can’t even bring yourself to move because everything hurts.

“Are you alright?!” Narumi is kneeling down as he studies you frantically. “You usually defeat kaiju like a pro, what’s wrong with you today?”

“Between a kaiju and you, Captain Narumi...” You cough before panting again, “You’re definitely the bigger threat.”

To your surprise, Narumi laughs. He’s delighted at your indirect praise — sure, he knows that he’s the strongest in the Defense Force, but hearing his crush say it to his face is something else.

He gently pulls you up, steadying you by holding your waist. When you look up to thank him, he has a calm face on, but his heart is actually beating 120 bpm per minute. “Careful.” He rasps out, bangs falling down to cover his eyes.

Your heart skip a beat. Narumi’s hands still rests on your waist as he gazes right at you. It’s like there is a magnetic pull between the two of you because the distance between your faces grow closer.

You have to admit that you find him attractive — who doesn’t? — and the special treatment he gives you is very endearing. Now that you really look at him, he’s very handsome. If you move forward just a little bit more, your lips will surely touch—

“Ya—hoo! Whoops, am I interruptin’ something?”

Narumi groans in frustration as Hoshina casually walks over while you jump, taken aback by his sudden appearance. You instantly break free from Narumi’s grasp, much to his dismay. “V-Vice Captain Hoshina!”

A phone comes sliding into your vision. “Gimme your ID, won’t you?”

Flustered, you reach out to take his phone and proceed to type your Kaiju Impact player ID.

Narumi glares at his rival. “Must you really stomp all over my territory, Hoshina?” His tone is hostile as he points a finger at the violet-haired man.

Hoshina only responds with a chuckle before ignoring him completely, opting to taking his phone from your hand. “There we go. Now let’s go and play, I wanna kill time before dinner~”

You can only nod as he takes you by the arm. The two of you don’t get far because you suddenly feel a hand on your other arm.

“Captain Narumi?!”

Hoshina turns back, grinning from ear to ear when he sees Narumi clutching your arm like his life depended on it. “What’s this?”

“We’re not done with training!” Narumi reasons, loosening his grip on you but not quite letting go.

“R-Respectfully, I don’t think I can go another round...” You pipe up in a small voice.

Hoshina clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You’re such a mean boss, y’know?”

“Anyway, I’m not letting you go with him!”

“Who are you, her big bro or something?”

“Know your place, you’re not even in the same division!”

“What does that have to do with anything? I enjoy her company, that’s all~”

“Well I enjoy her company more!”

“Why are you so intent on one-upping me...? Are you a child?”

Neither of your superior relents, holding your arm like a tug of war. In the middle of them, you can already feel your soul slipping away.

“I’m sorry, Captain Narumi, but I did make a promise...”

Narumi looks at you like he’s been kicked. Meanwhile, Hoshina rejoices, pumping his fist victoriously.

“I’ll wait for you at the library!”

When Hoshina disappears, you glance anxiously at Narumi. There’s an indiscernible expression on his face as he hangs his head, sulking. ‘Is it okay to leave him like this...?’

You don’t know what possessed you to do it, but you lean forward and peck him on the lips. It’s a quick kiss that makes you feel like you’re a lovesick schoolgirl. When you pull away, Narumi has his eyes wide open as he stares at you in shock.

Getting the urge to kiss him again, you decide to run before you actually do it. Luckily, he doesn’t run after you — or else he’ll see what a blushing mess you’ve become.

After morning practice, it is finally time for Hoshina to return to his own base at Nishi-Tokyo. Upon his request, you’ve come to see him off.

It’s surprising, but you’ve grown closer to the man in the span of just one day and a half, even playing games together as you chat about life and trivial things. You’re going to miss his presence.

The same can not be said for Narumi.

“Hurry up and leave already, dammit.”

“If you’re busy you can leave. It’s not like I asked you to come see me off.”

“Then why did you get my platoon leader to accompany you, huh?!”

“What’s it to you? Why’re you so intent on hogging her all to yourself? Got a crush on her or somethin’?”

“Y-You’re one to talk, you little—!”

Not this again.

Once more, Hoshina flat-out ignores Narumi. “Well, take care~ Let’s go somewhere on your day off.”

There’s a tight smile on your face as Hoshina pats your head, making Narumi seethe in anger next to you. “That would be my pleasure, but... Vice-Captain Hoshina, it’s not good to tease me so much...”

For the first time, Hoshina’s playful smile disappears. “Who says I’m just teasing you?” The mischievous glint on his eyes are absent as he peers at you, “Next time, I’ll show you just how serious I am.”

You’re pretty sure you have the dumbest expression on your face as you freeze on your spot, blushing to the tips of your ears even as Hoshina’s figure disappears into the distance. For a while, you and Narumi stand in front of the gates, engulfed in silence.

Narumi’s annoyed sigh interrupts your train of thoughts as you’re snapped back to reality. Turning your head, you see him giving you a look you’ve never seen before.

“Platoon Leader, come see me after the day ends. I need to talk to you.”

“W-What about?”

Narrowing his eyes at your feigned ignorance, Narumi bites back the urge to hoist you over his shoulders and lock you in a room away from prying eyes. “I think you know what about,” He whispers above your ear, his voice husky, “Did you really think I’ll let you steal a kiss from me and not take responsibility for it?”

Narumi leans back, grinning in satisfaction when he sees you turning red and stuttering his name. Now that a formidable challenger has appeared, he’ll need to up his game.

Let’s see who will be the one to seize victory.

END NOTES: I give in. The Kn8 brainrot is chronic. Also, Narumi and Hoshina’s rivalry will never not be funny! Writing this is so much fun, should I make this a series?

– hate is a strong word.

pairing: moze x gn!reader

premise: your relationship with moze could be summarized with three simple words; "i hate you." but you can only deny so much when the word "hate" also means "love" in both of your books.

– warings: mentions of blood and daggers, ooc (?) moze (i have not started the quest at all LMAO)

– author's note: for my dearest @lowkeyren @st6rly @ughscara and @tragedy-of-commons aka my fellow normal moze stans <3333 art credits to @.code_tesseract on twitter!! | ~500 words.

“i hate you.” perfectly surmised your relationship with a fellow assassin. the words are hastily and carelessly uttered with one another at any given moment, one would assume its your way of showing your affection. and they aren’t wrong.

“i hate you.” you mutter under your breath as you lay on the grass. your arm bleeding as moze rolled his eyes and threw a roll of bandages into your stomach. the regret of making a blood oath with the kid who’s been stealing your spot as the greatest assassin prodigy was starting to kick in. the realization that you and he are now forever tethered; past, present, and future lives are now spent trying to one-up each other. you don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. moze always seemed to throw away all your logic out of the window with just a glare.

“i hate you.” he grumbles when the two of you are unfortunately paired up for a mission. with a click of your tongue, you jump from roof to roof to try and lose him. split up, you said, it would be faster, but moze would always tug you back by the collar of your shirt and lay down his plans.

“i hate you.” you mumble as he throws your arm over his shoulders. “good to know you’re still kicking.” you scoff at him and try to pull away but it only makes moze’s grip on your waist and arm tighter.

“do you want to die?” he angrily counters and you click your tongue. “if it isn’t by your hands, no, no i don’t.”

moze hated how you made his ears ring with such simple words. to bystanders –outsiders of your relationship– they would be concerned, but to moze, it was a declaration of the highest affection. 

“then don’t die now,” he mutters. “your life is mine to take.”

“not if i take yours first.”

to everyone, it was clear as day that you two hated each other with a burning passion that would rival the sun.

yes, hate was a strong word, but what else could describe the burning in his chest whenever you pin him to the wall? his dagger in your hand as you press it to the apple of his throat, your eyes narrowed down into a nasty glare while your tone drips venom from the tips of your teeth. moze hated the way your body always gravitated towards him; you were the planet that revolved around him out of necessity and want. 

it was hatred and it always will be.

you will always hate moze for constantly stealing your spotlight; your daggers and cloaks; his blood that stuck to you like glue, forever reminding you of your oath; the hoodie he always used to shield you from the rain; iron clawed fingers that always brushed over your lips; and the eyes that always spelled “i want you” in every and any language known to the universe. 

it was impossible not to hate each other. and even more impossible to say “i love you” before every mission when the words “hate” and “love” are so intertwined they start to bleed into each other. 

“i hate you.” you say as you shove at his chest. moze rolls his eyes and pulls your mask to hide your face. “i hate you more.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.