bonniewrong turn under eden
⛔️ hanashu / 9.5k / complete
🔞 (blockbuster voice) rated e for violencE
⛔️ late game canon divergence feat. "good people do bad things" + getting together
things go very wrong in magatsu inaba.
once again i fight to decide what to post for wipwednesday so screw it. excerpt from what i'm editing tonight:
every time yeonjun tilts his head, soobin follows. only then does yeonjun lift himself onto the rock, all the length of his heavy, coral-pink tail slipping over and unwinding from soobin’s legs. then, coiled atop the rock, yeonjun untangles his legs from the form of his tail. they are long and slender and crossed below the knees once yeonjun sits upright. there’s a large bruise on his knee and soobin wants to take care of it. his legs are so pretty. yeonjun is so pretty. soobin should be so very scared—and he’s scared because he’s not.
delicately, considerately, yeonjun perches himself on his arm above soobin’s clothes. above soobin.
“hello, little fairy,” yeonjun coos. he brushes his hand through soobin’s hair, dislodges leaves and pieces of torn vines, then curls his fingers around the shape of soobin’s ear. soobin’s lashes flutter, thoughts and all the warnings in them going murky. “are you busy after laundry?”
[ @fanprompt | amputate ]
for the first time in his life, light’s breathing is louder, heavier, than his thoughts. the timer’s haunting tick is a muffled, intermittent beep. even L, who does not vary even in tone so long as it is unnecessary, trembles, micro-jitters perceptible only through the slight jingling of the chain linking their handcuffs.
from the phone in L’s hand, misa’s muffled sobbing backtracks his father's scolding/pleading/begging.
“light,” his father tries, one last time, “i’m begging you. put the knife down.”
loose debris crumbles from the pillar overhead, shunted across the last cavity of what used to be headquarters.
“light, my son, please.” soichiro’s voice is so sincere, splitting open before every ragged breath he heaves, that light’s grip on the cleaver slackens.
but light has to do this.
after all, with these cuffs tying him and L together, neither of them are leaving this crumbling building. not with his arm pinned.
he (always/arrogantly) said he’d do whatever it takes to catch kira. that won't happen if this place becomes their grave. becomes L’s grave.
so why is L looking at him like that? with his lip bitten so hard between his teeth, blood trickles down his chin and drips onto his dusty white shirt.
light raises the cleaver; the cuff’s links pull taut. there shouldn’t be this much resistance—light tugs again, jerks his arm back and overhead, and and L’s mouth drops open. light tries not to see it; light tries to focus on it. what’s an arm to two lives?
he can’t feel it anymore, anyway.