#oc: recognition in spirit

[simcardiac-arrested]

beautiful half assed valentines as per popular demand (pine)

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

[Commissioned] Sponsor's Choice: YooA

Tags: Dubcon, gangbang, anal, vaginal insertion, double penetration, face fucking, cum in mouth, a lot of creampies, cum in ass

Word Count: 8,653

A/N: It's my first time writing gangbang smut with complete characters, so if things get a little confusing, I'm sorry. I hope the nicknames I came up with for the OCs aren't too weird and fit the whole concept. And thanks for trusting me with this commission. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

YooA's hunger for solo success had grown stronger after her latest successful comeback. She repeatedly visited the CEO's office, demanding more solo events, but his response remained the same - he wanted her to focus on group activities with the other members of OMG.

While YooA didn't mind participating in group activities, she despised the CEO's habit of sending the group to pointless events. She craved something that would elevate both OMG's fame and her own status as the face of the group.

Determined to demand something more worthwhile, YooA stormed into the CEO's office with her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her skintight dress accentuated her curves flawlessly, catching the CEO's attention.

"CEO-nim, I've been waiting for this meeting," YooA leaned forward, revealing ample cleavage spilling out of her dress. 

"OMG has been doing exceptionally well, but I feel like I'm not getting the recognition I deserve. These group activities are a waste of my time. I want something that will skyrocket my solo fame."

The CEO, a greedy man with a glint in his eyes, leaned back in his chair and eyed YooA with a hidden purpose. 

"I understand your frustration, YooA-ya. But group activities are crucial for building your collective image."

YooA scoffed, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "Collective image, my ass. I'm the true star of the group, and everyone knows it. I want events that will solidify my position as the backbone of OMG."

The CEO chuckled, intertwining his fingers. "Well, I might have something special for someone like you, after all." 

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black envelope, handing it to YooA. "You've been invited to a private masquerade party for VIPs. You'll be the opening act, and then you will have a  special performance just for them."

YooA accepted the envelope, her eyes glistening with excitement.  "A masquerade party, huh?" she said, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering on the envelope. 

The CEO leaned forward, his gaze stern. "Remember, the identities of the VIP guests will be hidden behind masks. You'll need to be on your best behavior. Impress them, Yoo Shiah, and who knows, you might secure some profitable sponsorships."

YooA nodded, envisioning herself as the center of attention. "Of course, CEO-nim. I won't let you down. I won't let this opportunity slip away." She examined the envelope, noting the date and location.

The CEO rose from his chair, signaling the end of their conversation. "Excellent. Consult your manager to handle all the preparations and training. I expect nothing less than perfection from you, YooA."

As YooA turned to leave, the CEO chuckled to himself, his eyes gleaming with interest. 

"Let's see if a greedy woman like you can handle more than you've asked for," he murmured, watching her hips sway as she exited the room.

Back at the dorm, the other members greeted YooA with joyous cheers and congratulations upon hearing about the prestigious masquerade party. 

The girls quickly organized a small celebration, showering YooA with well wishes and excitement. Although they refrained from consuming alcohol to ensure YooA remained sober for her rehearsals and practices, the members still reveled in the festive atmosphere. 

The following day, YooA's intense preparation and practice for the masquerade event commenced. She approached the challenge with high spirits, determined to shine and secure the lucrative sponsorship deals promised by the CEO. 

The choreographer pushed her to her limits, but YooA met every challenge with enthusiasm, flawlessly executing each step and vocal flourish.Finally, the day of the party arrived, and YooA's stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. 

The stylists meticulously attended to her appearance, adorning her in a shimmering evening gown that accentuated her curves. She wore an elegant mask that concealed the upper half of her face. 

Taking one last look at her reflection, YooA took a deep breath. A confident smirk graced her lips as she stepped out of the door of the company and into the awaiting black limousine that would transport her to the exclusive venue.

As the elongated vehicle glided through the discreet back entrance of the lavish mansion, her eyes widened in awe at the extravagant display of wealth. 

Towering columns, sparkling fountains, and meticulously manicured gardens surrounded the impressive estate, a clear symbol of its inhabitants' opulence and status.

The process of verifying her identity through the invitation card at the entrance took a few minutes, but soon enough, a staff member guided YooA and her managers to the exclusive waiting room. 

Even this private space exuded luxury, with plush velvet couches, a fully stocked bar, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the magnificent grounds.

With an hour left before her performance, YooA seized the opportunity to warm up her vocal cords and loosen her body. The mansion didn't appear too crowded, as only the elite VIP guests had received invitations. 

YooA appreciated the relative tranquility, relishing the calm before the storm. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, YooA admired how the shimmering gown and elegant mask transformed her appearance. 

"Time to leave a lasting impression," she whispered to herself, a surge of excitement coursing through her veins.

An hour flew by in a flash, and before YooA knew it, she was standing behind a curtain on the makeshift stage in the massive hall. The female host's elegant voice echoed through the speakers, officially kicking off the exclusive masquerade party.

Summoning her courage, YooA stepped onto the stage, her shiny outfit catching the warm spotlight glow. Her performance was on point, hitting every note and nailing every dance move with precision and grace. 

The VIP guests below roared with applause, clearly enthralled by her captivating presence. Little did YooA know, the real audience was hidden on the second-floor balconies, their identities concealed behind ornate animal masks. 

Their intense, hungry gazes weren't focused on her singing or dancing - they were fixated on her slender, swaying body, mentally undressing her with each alluring movement.

These VIPs couldn't care less about the quality of her performance; their only interest was how they could soon have this gorgeous starlet fulfilling their wicked desires.

YooA drank in the roaring applause, her performance coming to a triumphant close. 

Every step and melody had been executed flawlessly, and the VIP audience had lapped it up eagerly. 

Satisfied with her work, she made her way back to the waiting room to slip into something more comfortable while she awaited the next performance.

Returning to the plush and private space, YooA swiftly shed her gown and slipped into a form-fitting mini-dress.

"Phew, that was intense!" she exclaimed, fanning herself as she flopped onto one of the velvety couches.

Just then, a venue staff member approached, signaling for YooA and her team to follow.  "Your table is ready. We've prepared a private dining area with top-notch food and drinks for you to enjoy."

YooA's interest was piqued. She turned to her managers. "What do you guys say?”

Her managers exchanged a glance before shrugging. "Well, we're not about to turn down good food and drinks. Let's go for it!" her stylist replied with a grin.

As they were escorted to the exclusive dining area, YooA's eyes widened at the magnificent spread laid out before them - platters of exquisite sushi, succulent Kobe beef, and bottles of the finest champagne. 

"Wow, they're really going all out," she murmured, already reaching for a glass.

Taking a deep, appreciative sip, YooA sank into her chair, relishing the moment. "This is the life, huh? I could definitely get used to this kind of treatment."

YooA was totally digging every bite and sip, relishing the chance to go all out on the top-notch grub and drinks. As she shot the breeze with her crew, it hit her that none of them had a clue about the real deal behind this posh masquerade bash. They were just following the CEO's lead.

But YooA didn't sweat it. She was soaking up the VIP treatment, feeling confident that her killer performance had blown the minds of the guests. She sighed with contentment, giving her champagne glass a final top-up.

Before long, her managers rolled up, giving her the heads up that it was time to slip into something special for her big show. YooA nodded, setting her glass down and making her way back to the waiting room.

When she laid eyes on the skin-tight, revealing gray dress laid out for her, she raised an eyebrow. The outfit clung to every curve, her perky rack was front and center, and the skirt was so short that her ass was practically peeking out.

"Is this... a bit much, don't you think?" YooA quizzed, running her hands over the clingy fabric. But then she shook her head, telling herself to quit being a buzzkill. "Forget it. I just need to focus on putting on a mind-blowing performance."

Slipping into the revealing dress, YooA took a deep breath and made her way back out to the stage, swaying her hips with a whole lot of confidence. Her crew had her back, so what could possibly go wrong?

YooA strolled through the lavish corridors of the mansion, guided by her entourage, until they reached a pair of grand double doors. With a graceful entrance, she stepped through, finding herself on a luxurious rooftop terrace, the night breeze teasing her exposed skin.

In the center of the open space, a group of masked men were chilling, their fancy outfits slightly rumpled. A fox, a rabbit, an owl, a bear, and a snake - each rocking an intricate animal mask that concealed their true identities. They lounged around an oval table, drinks, snacks, and desserts spread out before them.

As the staff who led her there bowed and exited, the door clicking shut behind her, the masked men rose to their feet, their voices charged with excitement.

"Welcome, welcome, Miss YooA!" purred the guy in the fox mask, stepping forward. "Come, have a seat with us." He motioned to the plush couch at the center of their circle.

The others chimed in, introducing themselves with nicknames based on their masks. "I'm Mr. Fox," the first dude announced, "and these fellas here are Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Owl, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Snake."

A shiver danced down YooA's spine as they guided her towards the couch, their predatory gazes devouring her with every glance. Something about this whole setup felt off, but she pushed aside her growing unease.

Putting on her best smile, she settled onto the couch amidst the masked men, acutely aware of how her short, curve-hugging dress captured most of their attention. "Pleasure to meet you all," she replied, silently praying that this "special performance" would go off without a hitch.

YooA mustered a coy smile as she settled into the plush couch, encircled by the masked men. "I'm here to put on a show for you tonight," she said, trying to exude confidence. "I hope you'll enjoy what I've got in store."

Mr. Snake, his eyes gleaming behind the reptilian mask, leaned in and poured her a glass of luscious, red wine. "Just relax, Miss YooA," he rumbled in a smooth, velvety voice. "We already take pleasure in your company.

Mr. Bear, a towering figure in his furry disguise, cleared his throat. "So, Miss YooA, how's the idol life treating you? Any thrilling plans on the horizon?" He extended a plate of mouthwatering indulgent truffles.

YooA accepted the wine and the delectable treats, doing her best to appear at ease as the men engaged her in polite small talk. She knew her mission was to please them, so she played along with their questions and feigned interest.

The men continued to ply her with drinks and appetizers, their masked gazes never straying from her figure. YooA felt their hungry eyes roaming over her exposed skin, and she fought the urge to squirm away. No matter what, she had to keep them satisfied.

As the conversation and laughter carried on, YooA felt her body growing warm, and her head started to spin. But she kept up her practiced smile, determined not to let anything ruin this golden opportunity the CEO had given her.

Unbeknownst to the young idol, the men had been discreetly spiking her drinks and snacks with drugs. They exchanged knowing glances as the substances started to take effect, allowing them to shed their polite masks.

Mr. Snake got up from his seat, moving behind the couch where YooA was seated. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders, sending a shiver through her drugged-out body. "Miss YooA, my dear, I hear you've been looking for some... sponsorship opportunities," he purred, his voice oozing with false concern.

YooA's face lit up at his words. “Oh, yes! The CEO said this could be my chance if I do well,” she blurted and leaned back into his touch a little bit, totally unaware of the predatory glimmer in Mr. Snake's eyes.

The other guys snickered, shifting in their seats, their pants getting uncomfortably tight as they ogled YooA's defenseless form. The time had finally come – they were going to make sure this greedy idol got way more than she bargained for.

Mr. Snake leaned in close, his breath tickling YooA's ear. "My dear, we're so pleased to hear of your eagerness to perform for us tonight," he purred, his grip tightening on her shoulders. "But you see, your performance will be... a bit different than what you had in mind."

YooA's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm ready to give it my all for you all." She moved to stand, but Mr. Snake suddenly pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her back onto the couch.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chuckled darkly. "You misunderstand. We want you to become our doll tonight - to do with as we please." Before YooA could even react, two of the other masked men moved in, roughly grabbing hold of her arms.

The third man, Mr. Bear, popped open a full bottle of wine. "First things first, let's get you nice and wet, hmm?" he growled, shoving the bottle towards YooA's face. 

Mr. Snake held her head in place as the man forced the bottle's neck between her lips, tilting it to pour the sweet, intoxicating liquid down her throat. YooA choked and sputtered, but the men showed no mercy, determined to break her down and make her their compliant plaything.

YooA's eyes went wide with panic as the pungent wine was forced down her throat. She choked harder but Mr. Snake's iron grip on her head kept her in place. The liquid burned as it went down, and she could feel it sloshing in her stomach, making her head spin even more.

Mr. Fox, who held her other arm, suddenly gripped her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to cough or expel the wine. "Drink it all, you greedy slut," he hissed. "We want you nice and sweet for what's to come."

YooA whimpered helplessly, the wine spilling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, drenching the front of her already-revealing dress. On her other side, Mr. Owl began roughly groping her thigh, spreading her legs apart. 

"Look at those pretty little panties," he cooed, his fingers hooking into the lace waistband. "This is going to be fun."

YooA tried to struggle, to beg for them to stop, but the men's grips and the drugs coursing through her veins left her utterly powerless. All she could do was pray that this nightmare would end soon.

As the bottle drained, nearly half the wine now coating YooA's face and dress, Mr. Bear finally pulled it from her mouth. YooA coughed, gasping desperately for air.

"W-What... What are you doing!?" she croaked, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Mr. Rabbit chuckled. "Why, giving you the sponsorship opportunity of a lifetime, my dear." He reached down, grasping her foot and lifting it off the ground. "Just be a good little doll and behave for us."

With a swift motion, he removed her high heel, exposing her toned, glistening leg. Mr. Bear grinned, pouring the remainder of the wine down her smooth flesh. 

"Look at these gorgeous legs," Mr. Bear grinned as he poured the remaining wine down YooA's leg, the liquid trailing from her toes up to her trembling thigh. "Look at this, fellas, the perfect canvas for us to play on."

Next to him, Mr. Owl suddenly yanked up the hem of YooA's dress, further exposing her lacy panties. The idol let out a strangled scream, but the men only laughed.

"Aw, don't be shy, sweetheart," Mr. Bear crooned, pausing to lightly trace the bottle's rim along her inner thigh. "We're just getting started."

On YooA's leg, Mr. Rabbit unzipped his trousers, pulling out his hard, throbbing cock. "Mmm, feels good to be free," he groaned, rubbing the underside against the sole of her wine-dampened foot. 

YooA whimpered, her body trembling as the men's depraved touches sent waves of revulsion through her.

YooA cried out in terror as Mr. Bear slowly traced the bottle's rim along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, inching ever closer to her covered sex. "Please, stop! I'll behave, I promise, just don't hurt me!" she pleaded.

Mr. Bear chuckled. "We aren't going to hurt you. We're going to make you feel so good." 

With that, Mr. Owl yanked her leg wider, while on her other side Mr. Rabbit continued rubbing his throbbing cock against her wine-dampened foot. 

From behind the sofa, Mr. Fox suddenly wrapped his arm around YooA's neck, squeezing her perky breasts through the clingy fabric of her dress. "That's it, struggle for us, little doll.”. 

YooA whimpered as Mr. Bear's free hand moved to the hem of her panties, slowly pulling them aside to expose her slick pink pussy. With agonizing slowness, he pressed the bottle's neck against her sensitive flesh, gradually pushing it past her delicate folds.

“So tight and wet for us already," the burly man bellowed. "This is going to be fun."

Despite her desperate pleas, YooA felt the unyielding glass of the wine bottle slowly breaching her tight entrance. Inch by inch, the thick, rigid neck disappeared into her pussy, delicate folds clinging to like rubber.

A shameful deep moan escaped the idol’s lips as waves of unwanted burning pleasure began to wash over her. Disgusted with her body's betrayal, she realized these guys must have drugged her with some kind of aphrodisiac drug. She thrashed her head back and forth, but the intensely pleasurable sensations only seemed to amplify.

"No, no, it's too deep!" she cried out, fixing a pleading, tear-filled gaze on Mr. Bear. "Please, take it out!"

But the burly man simply grinned, his piggish eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he ignored her cries. Gripping the base of the bottle, he began to slowly, mercilessly thrust it in and out of her wet pussy.

“Look at that," his voice thick with lust. "Our little doll is enjoying herself more than she wants to admit."

YooA let out a wretched sob, her hips involuntarily rocking against the relentless intrusion. She was powerless to stop the rising tide of illicit, drug-fueled arousal, her treacherous body betraying her even as her mind reeled in utter disgust.

YooA's back arched sharply, her toes curling as the crushing tide of shameful pleasure rolled through her. She could feel a tight, insistent knot building deep within her core, slowly unraveling and flowing downwards towards her aching core.

The wine bottle sloshed and squelched as Mr. Bear continued his relentless, punishing thrusts, the thick glass stretching and filling her in ways she had never imagined. Beside her, Mr. Rabbit groaned in ecstasy, his hips bucking as he rubbed his throbbing cock against the sole of her foot.

"Ungh, fuck... so good," the masked man rasped, his voice dripping with lust. "I'm gonna cum all over your pretty little toes, slut..."

YooA sobbed bitterly, her body betraying her as the sensations built to an unbearable crescendo. She tried to resist, to hold back the rising wave of her own impending orgasm, but it was a futile battle. When Mr. Owl suddenly rolled her swollen, sensitive clit with his thumb, her dam burst.

"Aaahh! Noooo..." she wailed, her voice cracking as her entire body convulsed. Waves of shattering, drug-fueled ecstasy crashed over her, her pussy fluttering wildly around the unyielding bottle. "It's too much... Ooohh, God, it feels so good...!"

The men erupted in raucous laughter, their cruel triumph echoing across the open rooftop as they reveled in YooA's complete and utter surrender.

Still in a dazed, drug-hazed state, YooA felt the wine bottle abruptly pulled from her sensitive pussy with a ‘pop’. Before she could react, Mr. Bear roughly seized a handful of her hair, yanking her forward and down onto her knees in front of the couch.

The other masked men had already freed their throbbing, rigid cocks, lining up before the helpless idol. Mr. Rabbit, who had already been on the edge, shoved his shaft straight into YooA's open, gasping mouth.

"Ungh, fuck yeah!" he groaned, bucking his hips to bury himself deep in her throat.

YooA gagged and choked around his intrusion, her makeup streaming down her face as he ruthlessly face-fucked her. On either side, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl grabbed her hands, guiding them to wrap around their own straining cocks.

"That's it, jerk us off, baby," Mr. Fox snarled, his hips jerking as she stroked him. "Show us what those pretty hands can do."

YooA moaned in despair, her entire being flooded with shame at her helplessness but her treacherous drugged body craved the overwhelming sensations, and she found herself involuntarily pleasuring the depraved men surrounding her.

Mr. Rabbit let out a hoarse roar as his climax overtook him, his hips stuttering as he unloaded a thick torrent of cum directly down YooA's throat. The stunned idol gagged and choked, but the ecstatic man held her head in place, forcing her to swallow every last drop.

"You filthy slut, drink it all down!" he ordered, finally pulling his cockfree with a wet 'pop.' 

Beside her, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl let out twin groans, their faces contorting in bliss as they coated YooA's delicate features with their pent-up release. Thick ropes of pearly white cum splattered across her flushed cheeks, dripping down her chin and nose.

Despite her revulsion, YooA found herself oddly aroused. The aphrodisiac still coursing through her veins had her body aching to be used and defiled. Almost without thinking, she slowly licked her lips, desperately trying to lap up the men's fresh seed.

“You love the taste, don't you?" Mr. Owl chuckled, tracing a finger through the cum on her cheek and pushing it into her eager mouth. "What a depraved whore you are."

YooA moaned around his digit, sucking it clean as her hazy gaze silently begged for more of their degrading attention.

"Well now, it seems our doll is ready for the main event," Mr. Snake who had been chilling since earlier rose from the couch. With a wave of his hand, the others seized YooA, hoisting her up onto the table at the center of the group.

The cool polished surface kissed her bare skin as the men spread her legs in a wide, lewd stance. YooA whimpered, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she took in the sight of the men lining up before her, their thick cocks jutting out in unabashed lust.

Mr. Bear stepped up first, his massive member twitching in anticipation. Grabbing YooA's thighs, he leaned in until the swollen head of his cock brushed against her sopping entrance. 

"Look at how desperate your pussy is," dragging his length through her slick folds before abruptly plunging himself fully inside with one savage thrust.

YooA's mouth fell open in a silent scream of mingled pain and illicit pleasure. Mr. Bear set a rapid pace, his huge cock filling and stretching her so completely. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Rabbit clambered up onto the table, straddling YooA's face. "Open up, slut," he commanded, smearing the glistening head of his cock across her gasping lips. 

With no other choice, YooA obeyed, her throat constricting as Rabbit fed his thick length into her mouth. Above her, the musty scent of his crotch flooded her senses, making her head spin.

The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and the men's grunts of exertion filled the air as YooA was ruthlessly pounded from both ends. A shamed part of her reveled in being used as their depraved cock sleeve.

Suddenly, Mr. Bear threw back his head, letting loose a feral roar. His cock swelled within YooA's walls, giving her womb a thick, scalding creampie as he reached his rapturous peak. 

Even as his climax tapered off, he continued to grind into the battered idol, until at last he pulled free with an obscene popping sound.

"Who's next for her greedy tight holes?" the hulking man grinned, patting YooA's cum-soaked pussy.

Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Snake took Mr. Bear's place, immediately pounding her deep and hard.  

"Mmmpphh!!" YooA protested, her words dissolving into a gargled whimper as Mr. Rabbit's thick length invaded her throat. He seized a fistful of her hair, using it as a handle to roughly fuck her face.

Each punishing thrust drove his cock deeper, the bulbous head visibly distending the tender column of YooA's neck. She gagged and choked around the intrusion, drool and pre-cum leaking from the corners of her stretched lips.

"Oh fuck yeah," Rabbit groaned, his tempo increasing to a brutal, piston-like rhythm. On either side, Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox seized YooA's hands, guiding her fingers around their stiffening shafts. 

The lewd sound of Rabbit's sac slapping against YooA's chin mingled with the wet squelches of Mr. Snake's hips smacking into her womb. Tears streamed from the idol's eyes as she struggled for air between Rabbit's thrusts.

Each time Mr. Rabbit bottomed out, his cock buried to the root, a faint bulge could be seen traveling up the taut flesh of YooA's abdomen. Her abused folds were a mess of stretched and frayed petals, soaked in a mixture of her feminine juices and the copious seed pumped into her by the men.

Yet through the pain and degradation, a part of YooA's traitorous body still craved sensation. Her raw, aching clit throbbed hotly, as if begging for attention.

Mr. Snake relished the sight of YooA's tormented, cock-stuffed face, gleefully adding to her violation. As he savagely pummeled her spasming cunt, he reached down with his free hand, locating her swollen, pulsing pearl. 

He roughly pinched the sensitive bud between his fingers. "You may hate what we're doing, but your slut of a body loves being used as a fucktoy!"

YooA's muffled wails of protest dissolved into a strangled cry of masochistic ecstasy as Mr. Snake rolled and tugged at her clit in time with his ferocious thrusts. Her slick canal clenched and fluttered wantonly around his invading cock.  

On her face, Mr. Rabbit redoubled his brutal face-fucking, slamming his entire length down her throat again and again. YooA's eyes rolled back, her petite frame wracked with convulsions as her first explosive orgasm crashed over her.

Cunt juices gushed from her abused hole, drenching Mr. Snake's pistoning cock and puddling on the table beneath her. The sensations were so intense, so all-consuming that YooA nearly blacked out from the pleasure.   

Her scream of release was muffled by Rabbit's cock, but it only seemed to spur the men on further. Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox rapidly stroked their cocks with YooA's limp hands, their shafts now achingly hard and ready to ravage her well-used cunt next.

As soon as Mr. Snake pulled free, they eagerly lined up on either side of the quivering idol's hips, their cockheads smearing through the mess of her femcum and Mr. Snake’s still-oozing seed. 

Mr. Rabbit unleashed a satisfied scream, yanking YooA's hair with force as his climax arrived. His cock swelled and pulsed, blasting thick ropes of hot jism straight down the poor idol's rawly abused throat.

YooA squirmed and thrashed, nearly choking on the copious load flooding her mouth and nasal passages before Rabbit finally relented, pulling free. The stunned woman collapsed back onto the table, gasping as Rabbit's seed spilled from her gaping lips.

Wasting no time, Mr. Fox immediately seized his opportunity. He clambered up onto the table, not even giving YooA a chance to catch her breath before shoving his rigid length past her gasping lips.

"Gggkkk!" she gurgled, frantically pushing against his thighs as his cock burrowed into her throat.

Mr. Fox grinned wickedly, basking in the delicious sight and sensation of her struggles. Meanwhile, Mr. Owl stepped between YooA's trembling legs. Leaning forward, he rammed his cock to the base inside her abused, cum-drenched cunt. 

YooA bucked and wailed around Fox's invading cock, her body quaking with unwanted ecstasy.

Not satisfied with her muffled protests, Mr. Owl snatched YooA's wrists, using her arms as levers to drive deeper into her velvet sheath on each thrust. The table beneath them shook and creaked from the pressure.

Mr. Fox matched Owl's brutal rhythm, jackhammering his rigid length into YooA's throat while his hands closed around her heaving breasts. With a few sharp tugs, the flimsy fabric of her dress gave way, exposing her firm tits.

Above her, Mr. Owl leered down, savoring the sight of their helpless little doll getting ruthlessly spit-roasted. There was no tenderness in their touches, only savage hunger being slaked by their violation of the degraded idol.

On the sidelines, Mr. Snake, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Rabbit looked on with smug joy, leisurely drinking beers and stroking their thickening cocks as they prepared for another round with YooA's battered form.

"Fuck, look at that slut getting the dicking she deserves," Mr. Snake sneered, giving his cock a few hard strokes. "These idols act so prim and innocent on stage, but they're all just cockcraving cumdumps underneath."

"This cheap piece of pussy won't even remember her own name by the time we're done with her," Mr. Bear grinned, downing another gulp of wine.

In the center of their lascivious attentions, YooA could only whimper and twitch as Mr. Owl bottomed out, giving one final thrust to bury his twitching cock as deep as it would go. With a growl, he emptied his load into her convulsing cunt.

The stunning idol's back arched, her glazed eyes rolling back as the hot torrent of cum flooding her already-stuffed womb triggered an intense climax. Her slender thighs trembled uncontrollably, her hands weakly clutching at the table beneath her.

At the same time, Mr. Fox grunted, slamming his balls on her nose and letting his own thick ropes of cum plaster YooA's tongue and throat. Her body heaving with sobs, she had no choice but to swallow the acrid offering, thick strands leaking from the corners of her mouth.

Once they'd drained the last spurts from their cocks, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl pulled out, chuckling at the wrecked state they'd left the once proud idol in. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her smooth skin glazed with sweat. Both holes leaked a steady trickle of their combined spend.

Yet as she lay there, mewling and twitching from the overstimulation, her lust-addled body betrayed her anew as the men's hungry gazes roved over her trembling form. Their arousal was clear in the renewed stiffness of their cocks, YooA's degradation only stoking the fires of their insatiable debauchery.

The savage men weren't even close to satiating their debased hunger for YooA's broken body. With rough hands, they hauled her up from the table, dragging the limp idol over to the nearby sofa.

She offered no resistance, too overwhelmed by the sickening mixture of humiliation and unwanted ecstasy pulsing through her veins. Leering smiles creased their lust-twisted features as they shoved YooA face-down over the sofa's arm, leaving her ass lewdly presented in the air.

"Stay just like that, you worthless fuckpig," Mr. Fox barked, sinking one foot atop the back of YooA's head to grind her pretty face into the cushions.

Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit seized her wrists, wrenching her slender arms straight back in a brutal parody of the spreadeagle position. Helpless, YooA jerked as the remnants of her tattered dress were ripped away, leaving her nude body completely on display.

SMACK! SMACK! 

Stinging slaps blossomed color across her already-reddened ass cheeks as one of the men reared back to spank and spread her trembling rump. YooA cried out, her voice muffled against the sofa, her muscles tensing.

"Better keep her steady, boys," Mr. Snake chuckled, dribbling a line of thick lube down the crease bisecting YooA's ass toward her tight, puckered sphincter. "This little anal slut's gonna be thrashing like a bronco once I get my cock up that tight back door."

With an anticipatory grin, he gave his achingly stiff cock a few more lube-slick strokes before lining the bulbous head up against YooA's rear entrance. Without any further preamble, he gripped her hips and slowly leaned his weight forward, steadily breaching and widening her for the harsh sodomy to come.

"Hhnngghh!!" The strangled cry was torn from YooA's lips, muffled against the couch cushions beneath her face.

Mr. Snake's thick cock stretched her virgin sphincter unbearably wide, each agonizing inch spearing deeper into her unutilized back passage. She squirmed and thrashed against the men's restraining grips, the sinister laughs surrounding her only driving home her utter helplessness.

"Aww, what's the matter, slut?" sneered Mr. Rabbit from where he pinned one of YooA's arms. "I thought you idol whores were used to taking it up the ass from your sugar daddies."

"She's so goddamn tight!" grunted Snake through gritted teeth as he bottomed out, his pelvis smacking loudly against YooA's quivering asscheeks. "Fuck, this needy tight asshole is just begging to be ruined!"

He pulled back slightly, savoring the feverish clench of her rubbery ring before slamming his hips forward again, jackhammering YooA's unprepared rear with frenzied rabbit thrusts. 

Each vicious stroke drew a pained weeping, her face contorting in a rictus of torment that only seemed to inflame the men's sadistic urges further.

"Look at this bitch's face!" Bear cackled, wrenching YooA's neck back by the hair to expose her agonized expression to their lewd gazes. "She looks like she might actually cry!"

"Then give the whore something to really sob about," Fox growled, forcing his spit-slick cock past YooA's swollen, parted lips to gag her howls of distress once more.

Her lashes fluttered and mascara streamed from the corners of her eyes, decorating her rouged cheeks with blackened rivulets of overflowing tears. Yet there was no mercy to be found in Snake's vicious rutting, nor any escape from the renewed degradation being forced upon her by Fox's fat dick pistoning in and out of her throat.

YooA's entire body kept quivering, her tortured hole spasming around Mr. Snake's relentlessly pistoning cock until he slammed himself fully in. Ropes of fresh thick cum erupted from his twitching cock, flooding her ruined bowels with degrading spurts.

"Hnngghh!!" Snake groaned, his fingertips digging deep into the flesh of YooA's hips as he emptied his harrowing load. 

At the same time, Mr. Fox grinned and seized her disheveled brown hair in his fist before burying himself to the root. Another debased grunt, then the battered idol's mouth was filled with his rank, salty spend.

"Gkkhkk!!" she choked and gurgled, stringy ropes of Fox's ejaculate splattering over her tongue and cheeks until his orgasm subsided. She swallowed forcefully, her features glazed with a sheen of perspiration and streaked with mascara-stained tears.

Mr. Snake finally pulled free with a slick pop, leaving YooA's violated pucker gaping, the pearly ring stretched and swollen around the lewd cream pie slowly leaking from her abused chute. 

No longer needing to keep her steady, Bear and Rabbit released her arms, allowing her body to go limp. But there was no respite for the broken woman.

"Up you go, fuckdoll," Mr. Bear growled, hauling YooA up by her waist and throwing her shuddering form down atop the couch once more, on all fours. He wasted no time in mounting behind her, his thick cock spearing into her freshly-reamed asshole with one brutal thrust.

"AAAIIIEEE!!" The shriek tore from YooA's raw throat as Mr. Bear hammered her with savage abandon, his palm cracking off her ass cheeks. Yet it was quickly muffled as Mr. Owl seized her by the hair, wrenching her face back to glare into his smirking visage.  

"You want the juicy sponsorships, don't you slut?" he sneered, slapping his cock across her gasping lips. "Let's hear you fucking beg for them then.”

YooA's eyes rolled back, nearly catatonic from the degradation and mind-shattering sensations racking her abused form. But coherent words still managed to gurgle past her drool-slicked lips between Mr. Owl's facefucking strokes.

"P...Please... give me... your... sponsorsh-shipsss, s-sirs!" she whimpered subserviently between gags. "I'll d-do... anything!"

Mr. Rabbit snickered, palming his rock-hard cock as he dropped down onto the couch beneath YooA's swaying hips, aligning his cock beneath her cum-dribbling pussy.

"Like taking my thick cock into this loose, fucked-out hole, bitch?" he taunted, punctuating each crude word with a hard slap of his shaft across her splayed pussy lips. "Beg me for my fucking cum, you desperate cumslut!"

"P-Please... gkkkhh!!" YooA's desperate plea was immediately cut off as Mr. Owl shoved his thick cock between her lips, using her momentary vocalization as an excuse to gag her airway with his girth.

Her eyes bulged, spit and drool streaming down her chin as he face-fucked her roughly. Yet still she persisted, her words garbled and barely intelligible around the vicious throat-strokes.

"I... n-need... hnrrghh... your cummm!! G-give it... gkk... to meee!!" 

Beneath her, Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Bear snapped with twisted amusement at her degrading submission. In one harsh thrust, Rabbit buried his entire cock inside YooA's sloppy, cum-drenched cunt, her raw flesh offering barely any resistance.

At the same instant, Bear doubled down on ravaging her thoroughly ruined asshole, his hips smacking loudly against her reddened cheeks on each stroke. The dual intrusions stretched YooA's petite frame cruelly taut, impaled by rampant cocks brutally spitting her worn holes.

"Keep begging, bitch!" Mr. Rabbit jeered, his heavy sac swinging to slap against YooA's swollen outer lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to arc her spine even more severely. 

The new angle allowed him to jackhammer up into her abused quim with merciless force, his cock stretching her tender canal as it sought ever deeper purchase with each shaprp pounding.

Mr. Bear matched his counterpart's ferocious rhythm, battering YooA's defenseless ass just as viciously as his pelvis audibly slap against her ass cheeks. Their girthy cocks pummeled in tandem, turning the sobbing woman into a thoroughly defiled cock-sleeve uselessly whimpering around Mr. Owl's spit-soaked dick.

"Sh-Shponshorsss... hunghhh... pleashshhh... GHHKK!!" YooA gurgled and drooled around Owl's skull-fucking thrusts, barely able to form coherent words. Yet perversely, with each desperate utterance, the men's pace only quickened, driving her body into a quivering frenzy.

YooA's eyes rolled back, her pummeled throat spasming around Mr. Owl's cock as he unleashed his virulent load. Thick, acrid cords of cum blasted over her lolling tongue, the volume so excessive she could do little but let it slather over her lips and stream down her chin 

“The fuck are you doing?! Swallow it all.” Mr. Owl shouted angrily, his fingers digging into YooA's scalp as he pumped her mouth full of his waste. 

Despite his vicious demand, the poor woman was utterly choked, simply allowing the foul load to drip and dribble from her stretched lips as her beaten frame was wracked with involuntary convulsions.

"Grrrkkk... unnghh... more... need... moreeee..." she rasped mindlessly around the soupy mess clogging her throat, her cunt and ass somehow still hungrily milking for more seed deep inside.

And her degraded wish was soon granted, as Mr. Rabbit felt his climax nearing its peak between the vice-like clenches of her pussy. 

"Fuck, this needy tight pussy is gonna wring the soul outta my cock!" He piston-slamming into the sloppy mess of YooA's ravaged sex.

Each thrust drove a fresh gout of the previous loads' cum out in a frothy, splattery spray, only to slurp back inside with the next invading slide. Mr. Rabbit could feel the swollen flesh of her over-abused walls still desperately rippling around him, foolishly craving his defiling seed.

"Aiiieeee!! Oh god! G-gonna get... knocked up... by t-these awfulll cockksss!!" YooA shrieked with delirium, her face a mess of smeared make-up and sticky ejaculate hanging in weeping gobs from her chin. 

Without warning, Mr. Rabbit erupted, blasting scalding strings of cum directly against her cervix. At nearly the same instant, Mr. Bear arched his back with a roar of release, painting the woman's rectum an equal shade of obscene alabaster. 

YooA screamed and thrashed through her brutal dual creampie, her distended lower abdomen rippling visibly as they used her like a mere cum receptacle.

As Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit withdrew their cocks from YooA's filled holes with wet pops, allowing thick runnels of their acrid cream to immediately gush from her gaping, ruined openings to the floor.

Mr. Rabbit huffed,"Get this worthless sow off the couch," shoving YooA's cum-glazed form with his knee until she tumbled limply to the carpet. 

The woman idol barely move, her muscles twitching uselessly as her broken mind swam in a haze of degradation and bliss. But there was no pause to be had. 

In an instant Mr. Snake was on her, seizing YooA's matted hair in his fist, using it to haul her body up until she was trembling on boneless legs, shoulders hunched and torso leaning shakily against the couch. 

With a single thrust, Snake slammed his thick cock fully into her thoroughly gaped asshole once more.

“Oughhh!!" YooA shrieked, the harsh re-entry into her sensitive bowels like a lightning bolt of ecstasy-tinged pain. But her cry was cut off as Mr. Fox stepped around in front of her, gripping her jaw in his hands.

"You love getting fucked like a cheap whore now, don't you bitch?" Fox asked with cruel amusement and slapped YooA's flushed cheek, leaving an angry red welt. "Shit, you're leaking like a faucet. I bet this loose pussy needs another big load.”

Choking her briefly until stars burst in YooA's vision, Mr. Fox then grasped the underside of her thighs and hoisted her legs apart, easily sliding his rock-hard cock into the frothy, cum-drenched mess of her cunt. 

"Mmfff... yessshh... fffuckkk... mooore... cummm..." the woman slurred drunkenly, half-delirious from the shattering violation. Her body was utterly suspended between Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox's rutting motions, yanked back-and-forth while ruthlessly bounced on their piercing cocks.

The sounds of their flesh smacking together mingled with YooA's ecstasy-pained moans and the men's contemptuous laughter in a symphony of pure debasement. And not a single shred of her dignity remained.

The two animals sandwiched YooA between them, showing zero mercy as they brutally used her body as a human fuck-doll. Their thrusts jackhammered her stretched figure in opposite directions, turning her into a ragdoll pinned on their dueling cocks.

"Ghhkkk!! Too... b-big!! Hurtsss!! So good!!" The sobbing idol gurgled, her skull lolling as Mr. Snake's fat girth pummeled the deepest confines of her bowels with harsh strokes that seemed to split her in two. 

Her sphincter was a wide, gaping circle of swollen flesh uselessly fluttering around the invasion stretching it unnaturally agape.

His pelvis smacked loudly against YooA's cherry-red asscheeks, adding more angry welts and discoloration to the map of her abject suffering. Perversely, the crescendos of searing pain wracking her backside were punctuated by shudders of ecstasy as her ass was so ruthlessly plowed.

Mr. Fox matched his friend’s depraved rhythm, driving upwards to impale YooA on his cock with just as much uncaring force. Her hammered pussy has become a sloppy, cum-drenched mess of overstuffed folds, the juices of her violations squelching audibly as Fox rutted into her.

"Yeah, you hear how fucking wet this whore's cunt is?" Mr. Fox emphasized his vulgarity with a series of sharp slaps across YooA's jiggling boobs. "She's practically pissing femcum at the thought of getting pumped full of more jizz!”

Beneath them, a lurid puddle of their combined fluid was slowly spreading, expelled from YooA's reddened, distended holes with each cruel penetration.

"Mmmnn... c-cummm... leaking outtbb... stopphhh!!" she pleaded through the haze of delirious elation, only to be silenced as Mr. Snake seized a fistful of her hair and wrenched her neck back painfully. The brute force only allowed him to plunge with even more vicious depth.

"Grrnnghhh... gonna coreload this cockwhore proper!" Mr. Snake hissed, sweat beading his brow while the thick veins along his turgid cock throbbed visibly with each inhumanly powerful stroke. "Right up that slutty fucking babyhole!”

YooA's nails dug deep crescents into the straining muscles of Mr. Fox's shoulders as the dual pistoning drove her over the edge. She wailed like a woman possessed, thrown mercilessly into the throes of a shattering climax that shook her very core.

"Harder... h-harder! I'm... I'MMMMGGHHNNNFFFF!!" The words dissolved into a bestial cry that rang through the room, her arched spine bending near its breaking point as her high peaked.  

Both her holes clenched with convulsive, rippling spasms around the sadistic cocks defiling her - clenched as if her very life depended on milking them for their fresh, degrading seed.

And the two men were all too happy to oblige, sneering with twisted satisfaction as they felt her holes tighten around them. Mr. Snake wrapped his bulging arms crushingly tight around YooA's midriff, holding her helplessly impaled.

Mr. Fox, meanwhile, dug his claws deep into the soft flesh beneath YooA's quivering thighs, lifting and spreading her stiffened lower body wide as he prepared to unload his batter as deep as it would go.

"Take the fucking breeding you wanted so bad, you sloppy whore!" Me. Fox spat, arching his back as he pulled the shrieking woman down atop him with one conclusive, punishing thrust.

At the same time, Mr. Snake unleashed a throaty groan of delight, burying his cock fully inside YooA's bowels before flooding them with new layers of warm cum. His load churned and sloshed inside her heaving abdomen as he emptied his heavy balls.

The violated idol's eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible in her skull. Drool and mascara-tinted streaks of ejaculate trailed down her gaping maw in an unsightly mess as she was overwhelmed one final time, her wits shattered beyond repair.

When at last they'd drained their final spurts into her well-used, cum-stuffed form, the men simply let go, letting YooA collapse to the couch in a boneless, twitching heap. Thick runnels of their spend immediately began dribbling from her ruined, gaping holes to pool beneath her limp thighs.

"Damn, I think we finally broke this celebrity slut properly," laughed Mr. Bear with satisfaction, reaching down to shove the sticky strands of cum oozing from YooA's entrance with his fingertips and rubbing her swollen red clit with it. 

"I could go for another round though - who wants sloppy thirds on this greedy broken  cocksleeve?" Asked Mr. Owl, excited.

"Shit, I think we're well past sloppy thirds at this point," Mr. Rabbit chuckled, eyeing YooA's glistening form with a mixture of smug satisfaction and lingering lust. "That fucktoy's pretty much been run through the entire gangbang gauntlet."

He sighed heavily, already tucking himself back into his trousers with deft fingers. "As much as I'd kill to go another few rounds on that perfectly trained idol pussy, I've got to dip out. Got an overseas deal going down tonight that needs my attention."

A series of agreement followed from Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox as they too began redressing, putting on their suits and slacks with casual nonchalance. As enticing as the thought of further violating their celebrity cumdump was, business matters ultimately took priority.

"Yeah, that Taiwanese shit isn't gonna take care of itself," Mr. Snake grunted, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair. "Plus, the night's still young - no reason we can't find some fresh fuckmeat once we're done working."

The three men shared a round of dark, rumbling laughter at the thought, utterly unmoved by YooA's unconscious, abused, and decidedly well-used state now adorning the soiled sofa cushions. 

With a few parting leers and crude gestures, each bent down to unceremoniously snap a few close-up photos of her swollen holes still dribbling their copious loads, as well as her debauched features.

Mr. Snake smirked as he tucked his phone away. "Don't forget to end the recording properly once you two are done, and send us copies," he reminded Mr. Bear and Mr. Owl, the only ones remaining behind. "I want crispy 4K footage of tonight's A-List celebrity whore.”

Bear and Owl both smirked in response, their attention turning toward the discreetly-mounted video camera in the corner of the opulent penthouse suite. 

They'd been so caught up in the raucous, heated depravity, the fact that every lecherous act had been meticulously captured for their private collections had momentarily slipped their minds.

With a conspiratorial nod, Bear grabbed YooA's limp wrist, slowly guiding her arm up until her swaying fingertips were aimed directly at the camera lens like the world's most sordid puppet display.

Bear grinned at Owl, his grip tightening around YooA's wrist to make her fingers waggle towards the camera. 

The lens captured every lurid detail of her totally degraded state - from the disheveled chestnut tresses matted with sweat and cum, to the utter violence enacted upon her once-pristine holes now gaping and seeded full to brimming.

"This little whore isn't going to wake up for a long while after the utter fucking we gave her," Mr. Bear mused, his free hand pawing at YooA's boobs, streaked with inflamed welt marks and rapidly-blooming bruises. 

"Just think when she finally comes to, she will have scored that coveted sponsorship deal she was begging for. But at what cost? This is gonna be hilarious.” Mr. Owl laughed loudly, wrenching YooA's head upright by her hair so the camera could take in her euphoric yet harrowed expression.

"Well, in her line of 'work', being an absolute fuckpig on the casting couch is basically a prerequisite," Mr. Owl sneered, giving YooA's tits a few harsh, stinging slaps to watch the flesh ripple.

The two men guffawed as if sharing some long-standing inside joke, all the while manipulating YooA's insensate puppet form to give the camera a final, unambiguous view between her legs. 

"Well, I'd say our work here is done...for now," Mr. Bear punctuating that ambiguous remark by sliding two fingers into YooA's sloppy slit and stirring them in a spiral. The idol offered zero reaction, though a few fresh gouts of jism immediately trickled free from her overstuffed crevices.

"Atta girl. Keep dribbling out those sponsorship loads like a good cumdump," he cooed tauntingly, turning his twisted smile back towards the camera lens. "We'll make sure to give this little dickprincess the launchpad to true fame after putting her through a few more 'auditions' over the next few days and nights."

As the two men threw back their heads with harsh, victorious bouts of laughter, the recording feed flickered to an abrupt, unsettling black, leaving YooA's ultimate fate as a broken starlet a mystery to the outside world.

[dabislittlemouse]

*:･｡ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ｡･:*

[Dabi/Shigaraki fanfiction]

Alright so I decided to make a recs post even though I got my tag #B.recs. Still, I feel like there are many talented writers out there who don’t always get much recognition and they deserve all the appreciation and support as well. So I decided to make a post, including my mutuals here as well uwu. Here are some of my favorite masterpieces that they’ve written and that have been stuck in my memory <3 I’ve read thousands of Dabi fics and it would take me a long time to put them all here (if I can even find them). But here are just a couple of them that I highly recommend reading :3

This post will be edited constantly, I will keep adding more fics in here and more writers eventually.

Heinous- MASTERLIST @mostlyheinous

Overheated (Implied Virgin!Dabi x Amateur Hero!Reader)

Dampened Spirits (NSFW Dabi x Reader drabble)

Oedipex Rex (Older Brother Touya //Little Sister F!Reader, multich)

Dabi x Shoto’s girlfriend (noncon)

Dirty perverted ShigaDabi with corruption kink

Dabi noncon drabble

Dabi’s first kiss

Shade- MASTERLIST @shadowsandshapes

Fortune Favors The Bold (Dabi/Reader multichapter fic)

Smoke and Vanilla (Dabi/F!Reader)

[Spicy] Dude, This is a McDonald's | (afab!Reader/Dabi)

[Spicy] You, Me, The Couch and Him (Dabi/F!Reader)

In Too Deep (Blue) | afab!Reader/Gojo Satoru

Opal- MASTERLIST @mossy-opal

Burning Desire (Dabi x Reader)

Succubus (Shigaraki x Reader)

To Lay Above (Incubus!Dabi x Reader)

Date Night (Shigaraki x Reader)

Not Yours Anymore (Shigaraki x Reader)

Chaos- MASTERLIST @shockinglysubmissive

The Video (Shigaraki/Dabi/OC)

Sensual sex (Dabi x reader)

Corruption (Dabi x Reader)

The Bet (Fem Reader x Shigaraki x Dabi x Mr. Compress x Spinner x Twice)

Beanie- MASTERLIST @dabislittlebeaniebaby

Things Happen (Dabi x Reader)

Like Morphine (Dabi x Reader)

Taming the brat

Fucking Perfect

Whipped Cream Dreams

Kay- MASTERLIST @hunajan

Bully (Dabi x Reader multichapter fic)

Rude Boy (Dabi x F!Reader SMUT)

Don’t do the crime (Dabi x F!Reader SMUT)

Camera (Dabi x F!Reader SMUT)

Dabi & Hawks HCs (you threaten them to sit on their face)

A- MATSERLIST @dabihawksluva

Teach me

Yandere Dabi headcanons

First time with Dabi

Ride me baby (Dabi x GN! Reader)

Monalisa (Dabi x GN! Reader)

@arvandus MASTERLIST

Touch (Dabi x Reader multichapter fic)

Dabi x Reader with a singing quirk

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

Dabi with a virgin reader HCs

Works by @ikatella

Russian Roulette (Dabi x Reader noncon, gunfucking)

Spades (pt2 of Russian Roulette)

The Cards We’re Dealt (Dabi x Reader noncon, kidnapping, possessive Dabi)

.

.

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she met Cassian

azriel x rhy's sis (oc)

*Azriel is not in this particular imagine as this was before he met Rhys, Cass and Val.

warnings: fluff/mild angst

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. This is when Cassian gets introduced to their life. You can find the masterlist for the collection of imagines here.

**

Windhaven was cold, dark and uninviting. It lacked the warmth and joy Velaris exuded. Still, Valeria preferred to be here as she found a strange comfort in the seemingly desolate place. Home was wherever her family was and for the time being, it was necessary for Rhysand to spend his adolescent years here.

 It was a huge adjustment for her as the Illyrians in the camp did not take kindly to her free-spirited nature. How dare a young girl act like the child she is? It became abundantly clear to her that she had to tread carefully, being mindful not to transgress the rigid boundaries set by the Illyrians. The boundaries that were interlaced with the toxic threads of misogyny and patriarchy in the disguise of tradition.

Days slipped away swiftly within Windhaven's clutches. Valeria's mother had taken it upon herself to oversee her daughter's education, a responsibility she gladly accepted. Lessons would commence after breakfast, right after bidding Rhysand farewell for his long day of training. Instead of delving into the teachings of “noble lady” etiquette, Valeria's days concluded with a needle and thread, her mother, a revered seamstress, guiding her through.

On days when tasks were few and far between, Valeria would dedicate her time to music. The violin, a gift from her mother, allowed her to lose herself in the gentle melodies. She did not expect to fall in love with music the way she did.

Her mother was overjoyed with this newfound passion. She continued to fuel it with more musical instruments. First, a harp and then finally, a piano. Valeria had been initially drawn to the allure of the violin, hoping to capture her father’s attention and follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. However, she found an unexpected sanctuary in the gentle embrace of the piano’s keys and preferred it to her other instruments.

Valeria gently set her violin down as her gaze wandered toward the window in her room, tracing the silhouette of her brother. Her brows knitted into deep furrows and she rushed to the window for a better look. The signs of a grueling training session were etched on Rhysand's features—bruised jaw and a cut lip with caked blood. It was not uncommon to find bruises on her brother’s face but as her eyes raked over his form, she also noticed the wince in his walk and the absence of the coat he had been wearing this morning before he left. 

The winds outside were chilling yet Rhysand looked unfazed by the cold. If anything, Valeria couldn’t help but sense a touch of smugness in his demeanor. Strange, she thought before rushing down the stairs to greet him. She itched to ask about his day, as she always did.

“Rhysand!” Their mother called out as she met her children in the foyer with wide eyes. “What happened to your sweet face?”

Rhysand shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You should see the other boy.”

Valeria rolled her eyes at his arrogance. A trait of his that grew more and more apparent every day. A part of her secretly hoped that the other boy’s injuries were less and not as severe. While their mother scolded him for braving the cold without a coat, Valeria shifted her gaze towards the window in time to spot as a young boy passed by.

He appeared to be the same age as Rhysand and recognition dawned on her. She had seen him before. Multiple times, actually, as it was a daily sighting after training hours. Although she did not know his name, she was aware of his identity. A bastard, as the camp referred to him as. He was the bastard son of another camp’s warrior. He was separated from his mother at a young age and forced to fend for himself and train here. Val couldn't fathom a life devoid of warmth, safety, or care, but she imagined it to be a dreadful existence. Nobody should endure such hardships. 

A nasty bruise adorned his eye and there was also a wince in his walk. She wondered if both Rhysand and this boy received lashings on their backs as punishment for any mayhem that may have caused in training. Unlike all the other days, the boy was appropriately dressed for the weather this cold day. Realization flashed within her eyes as she saw it was thanks to her brother’s coat.

Driven by curiosity, Valeria ventured outside, ignoring her mother’s scolding for leaving without her coat. She found herself eager to engage with the boy. She had been itching for an excuse to do so when she had learned why the camp shunned him. "Hey!" she called out as she approached him.

The boy paused and met her gaze.

"That’s my brother’s coat," she pointed out, the cold wind nipping at her cheeks.

The boy responded with a defensive glare, his long wavy hair whirling in the wind, but Valeria remained undeterred.

"Would you like to eat dinner with us?"

"I kicked your brother’s ass," the boy stated with a raise of his brow. A flicker of amusement flashed in his hazel eyes.

"I know," Valeria said, a smile playing on her lips.

"Valeria, it’s dinner time!" her mother's voice called out from the doorway. “Invite your friend!”

The boy weighed his options. He could go home, where there would be no dinner, but at least he’d be in the comfort of his own space. As tiny and humble the tent may be. Or he could accept the girl’s invitation and enjoy a warm dinner in her company, even if it meant entertaining whatever intentions she had. It couldn’t be that bad, right? And as the aroma of dinner made its way to him, his decision was clear.

As the evening sun painted the sky with hues of orange and gold, Valeria and the boy headed inside into the tranquility of her family’s home. The flickering candlelight casted shadows across the room and the scent of a hearty dinner filled the air.

Rhysand furrowed his brow, glancing at Valeria as both her and the boy approached the dining table. Rhysand made a motion and with a sigh, she followed her brother who led her back to the hallway. He leaned in close to whisper, encouraging her to keep her voice low too while their mother introduced herself to their guest and happily set another place at the table for him.

"Why is he here?”

“He has nowhere to go.” She whispered back.

“He has his tent!”

Valeria shot him a look. “It’s cold outside.”

“He has my coat.” Rhysand replied as he motioned to the injuries on his face.

“It’s cruel for him to be left on his own.”

Rhysand sighed as he leaned back, understanding dawning in his eyes. He recognized the gravity of the boy’s situation and although he couldn’t deny the ache to his injuries or the lashings they received as punishment for their brawl earlier, he was not mad about them. He would’ve done the same, if he were in the other boy’s shoes.  

Just then, a voice chimed in from the kitchen, where the boy had remained seated at the dining table. 

"I can hear you, you know," The boy interjected, a hint of pride in his tone. He had heard the entirety of their conversation.

Rhysand flicked Valeria’s forehead.

“Ow!” Valeria blinked, her hand flying to her forehead. “What was that for?”

“For not knowing how to whisper, you fool!”

“You’re the one who wanted an explanation.” Valeria shot back in defense, scowling at her brother.

 “I don’t need your pity.” 

The siblings turned to the boy, who now stood under the doorway and glowered at them. Valeria smiled warmly at the boy, extending an understanding gesture towards him. "Of course. We were just discussing that everyone deserves a warm meal and a place to call home." 

The boy’s expression softened at her kindness but he was wary of the pity that often accompanied such gestures. He disliked being seen as someone in need, even though that was the cruel reality of his life.

Their mother, sensing the need to ease the situation, spoke up. “Let’s hurry and eat dinner before it grows cold. Then, off to a warm bath and bed. For everyone.” She said, extending a genuine invitation to the boy with torn shoes. “We don’t have an extra room but we have an extra bed. You’re more than welcome to stay with us.”

The boy hesitated, battling with his pride. The prospect of a warm bath and a comfortable bed was enticing. After moments of contemplation, he managed a grateful bow of his head and accepted the offer.

As they gathered around the table, Cassian–as the boy had later introduced himself–, found himself grateful for the warmth and acceptance of Valeria and her mother. He could not say the same for Rhysand, their animosity toward each other after their earlier brawl still strong and evident. He chose to ignore him, opting to exchange casual conversation with their mother and finding humor in the looks Valeria kept sending her brother instead.  

**

There were only three bedrooms upstairs. One for Lady Yvaine, one for Valeria and one for Rhysand. Valeria had offered to move into her mother’s room but her instruments took up too much space and their mother also used her room as storage for her seamstress work so the idea was shot down. Much to both of their dismay, this resulted in Cassian and Rhysand reluctantly sharing a room. They had agreed, with a hint of humor, not to let their animosity reach murderous levels during their sleep.

Valeria thought that perhaps, Rhysand and Cassian would grow tired of their constant bickering and viciousness toward each other but it appeared it would take much longer than a couple of weeks for their animosity to resolve. Rhysand seemed to enjoy honing his newfound daemati skills at Cassian’s expense, taunting and teasing his mind. The tension often escalated into heated wrestling matches on the living room floor. 

Their mother decided to intervene. Initially, she denied them supper when their fights escalated, hoping hunger would put an end to their quarrels. When that method no longer seemed to work, she devised a new approach. Bonding time, she called it. It involved the two boys sitting face-to-face, forced to give each other genuine compliments. Even Valeria found herself subject to this discipline when her bickering with Rhysand escalated.

Though Rhysand and Cassian no longer resorted to physical fighting–at least not in the confinements of their home–a new form of subtle passive aggression emerged. When Rhysand learned that Cassian loved peas, he made it a point to consume the majority of them, despite his personal distaste for them. In turn, Cassian became aware of Rhysand’s preference for chicken thighs and on nights they’d have roasted chicken, he would slyly ensure he secured the first pick of chicken thigh, despite his own preference for wings.

A month had passed since Cassian had moved into their home, and the dynamic between him and Rhysand remained a complex work in progress. However, his bond with Valeria had blossomed into a relationship akin to that of a brother and sister. Initially born out of gratitude for her dinner invitation, Cassian's kindness toward Valeria had deepened as they spent more time together. On nights he wasn’t so tired from training, he’d join her in the living room. Sometimes, they’d sing or draw together. Their drawings were often at Rhysand’s expense. Valeria had even moved her piano to the living room so that she could show him new songs she’d come up with. He couldn't help but notice Rhysand's subtle pouts whenever their conversations ventured into inside jokes, exclusive to their newfound companionship. Cassian was sincere in his intent of friendship with Valeria. It was an added bonus that his growing closeness with her seemed to needle Rhysand.

**

As the night enveloped the household in a cozy embrace, Rhysand found himself wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions. He had always been close to Valeria, their bond unbreakable, but now seeing her befriend Cassian stirred something inside him—an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. 

He found himself approaching his mother later that evening in the dimly lit kitchen. Valeria had gone to wash up and Cassian had already excused himself to bed. Rhysand’s steps were heavy and as he loudly dragged one of the dining chairs to sit on it, he let out a loud sigh.

His mother, who had been cleaning the dishes, paused. A knowing smile touched her lips as she turned to lean against the sink and observe her son’s turmoil. 

“What troubles my little star?”

Rhysand fidgeted with his hands on the table. He was hesitant to open up, so his mother approached him. Her gentle hand reached out for his, offering comfort through her warm touch.

"I... I don't understand why Valeria is becoming so close to Cassian. You saw how she let him have the last lemon cake slice! She never offers me the last slice.”

"Rhysand," His mother said tenderly, "Valeria has a big heart. She is capable of forming many meaningful bonds and at the moment, Cassian is someone who needs a friend. He could use another one, you know.”

"But what about us?" Rhysand's voice quivered with insecurity.

"No new friendship can replace the bond you two share,” his mother assured him. “Valeria cherishes you deeply. You are, and always will be, her best brother."

Rhysand leaned into his mother’s embrace as her words sinked in, calming the storm of doubts and jealousy that raged within his heart earlier. 

**

Valeria stepped out of the bathroom and hummed quietly to herself. As she passed the room Rhysand and Cassian shared, she noticed the door slightly ajar. Rhysand was still downstairs with their mother but she caught a glimpse of Cassian, who was alone, gazing out the window with tears glistening in his eyes. She recognized the look in his eyes– it was a glimpse into his vulnerable heart, a moment of yearning  and longing.

Deciding she had to do something about her friend’s sadness, Valeria made her way to her room to retrieve something precious to her. It was a  figurine her mother had given her before first leaving for Windhaven. The obsidian figure depicted an Illyrian mother cradling her child, a symbol of protection and love. It had brought her immense comfort in the absence of her mother's physical presence.

Approaching Cassian's room with delicate steps, she caught the sight of him hastily wiping at his eyes, trying to hide that he had been crying. He turned as he heard her footsteps, meeting her gentle gaze. 

Valeria held out the figurine, her voice soft and comforting. “My mother gave this to me when she had to leave. Although she was not with me, she said this mother would take care of me.”

Cassian hesitantly took the figure made of pure obsidian into his hands and studied it intently. The craftsmanship was exquisite, capturing the essence of a mother's love and protection.

“The Mother watches over everyone,” Valeria added, her violet eyes conveying empathy and understanding.

“I hope it can bring you comfort like it did for me.”

A quiet and heartfelt “thanks” escaped Cassian’s lips. He was touched by Valeria's understanding. It was a subtle reassurance that he wasn't alone in this new journey.

**

Valeria found herself calling after Cassian the next morning. “Cassian, your coat!” she exclaimed in concern, hastening her steps to catch up to him. “You don’t want to be cold!”

Rhysand let out an exaggerated sigh as he followed after the two. “Cassian this. Cassian that. Does she not know she has a brother??”

Their mother, standing nearby and having overheard the banter, couldn't help but laugh at Rhysand's playful exasperation. She walked over, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Of course she does, Rhys.” His mother replied, reminding him of their conversation the night before with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. “You’re still the best big bruder,” she added, using the endearing term for “brother” Valeria had used for him when she was younger.

Oblivious to the conversation between her mother and Rhysand, Valeria ran back up to Rhysand. She grinned as she dug into the pocket of her coat and extended her hand out to Rhysand. “I saved you some for your walk to training.”

Rhysand’s lips curled into a grin of his own as he saw her hold out the leftover blueberries from the muffins she and her mother had baked earlier. She had carefully wrapped them in a cloth for him. Blueberries were his favorite.

 “Go on, now. You don’t want to be late,” his mother said as she gave him a gentle push.

Rhysand took the blueberries from Valeria with a quick thanks and ran to catch up with Cassian. His grin grew wider. The warmth of his mother's reassurance and the small treat in his hand thawed any lingering traces of jealousy or insecurity he might have felt. He knew that despite the newfound bond Valeria had with Cassian, their sibling relationship remained strong and unshakable.

***

Tag list: @justrepostandlove @kemillyfreitas

[nayziiz]

Lost & Found | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x OC (Genevieve)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

As Oscar approached the sleek, modern apartment building in the heart of Monaco, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement mixed with a hint of uncertainty. The Mediterranean breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the promise of a memorable evening with his teammate, Lando.

However, as he reached the entrance, Oscar's anticipation wavered when he checked his phone and noticed the lack of response from Lando. Perhaps he got caught up in something, he thought, brushing off the initial sense of disappointment. Determined to salvage the evening, Oscar decided to take matters into his own hands and head straight up to Lando's apartment.

As he stepped into the building's lavish lobby, Oscar's mind raced, trying to recall the apartment number that Lando had mentioned in passing. Was it 402 or 204? He cursed himself for not paying closer attention during their previous conversations. Nevertheless, he pressed on, hoping his memory wouldn't fail him now.

The elevator ride felt interminable as Oscar anxiously tapped his foot, mentally rehearsing different scenarios for the evening. Finally, the doors slid open, revealing a corridor adorned with elegant artwork and polished marble floors. With each step, Oscar's heartbeat quickened, the anticipation mingling with a growing sense of trepidation.

Stopping in front of a row of identical doors, Oscar hesitated. Should he knock on each one until he found Lando's apartment, risking embarrassment and awkward encounters with strangers? Or should he retreat and wait for Lando to respond, clinging to the hope that their plans weren't entirely dashed?

In the end, Oscar decided to trust his instincts and rely on his memory, however flawed it might be. Taking a deep breath, he approached the nearest door and tentatively pressed the doorbell, steeling himself for whatever lay on the other side.

Relief flooded through Oscar as the door opened to reveal a friendly young woman. Her warm smile offered reassurance amidst his uncertainty.

“Hi, I'm looking for Lando?” Oscar ventured, his Australian accent lending a casual tone to his inquiry.

“Norris?” the woman asked, her eyes bright with recognition.

“Uh, yeah,” Oscar confirmed, his spirits lifting at the mention of his friend's name.

“He's in the apartment next door,” the woman informed him, her tone friendly and accommodating.

“Oh, my apologies,” Oscar replied, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for her help.

“That's quite alright,” the woman assured him with another smile, her kindness putting him at ease.

As Oscar made his way down the corridor to the correct apartment, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his forgetfulness. He couldn't shake the image of the warm and welcoming woman who had graciously pointed him in the right direction, her beauty leaving him momentarily speechless.

With a meek wave of acknowledgment, Oscar continued on his way, determined to focus on the task at hand. Finally reaching Lando's door, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves before knocking.

After a few moments that felt like an eternity, the door swung open, revealing Lando's familiar face. Relief washed over Oscar as he was greeted by his friend's infectious grin.

“Lando!” Oscar exclaimed, a wave of excitement coursing through him.

“Oscar, mate! You made it!” Lando replied enthusiastically, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Yeah, sorry for the delay. Got a bit turned around,” Oscar admitted sheepishly, his earlier embarrassment fading in the warmth of Lando's welcoming embrace. “I couldn’t remember your apartment number.”

“Oh, so you met Genevieve then?” Oscar chuckled sheepishly at Lando's inquiry about the mysterious Genevieve.

“Genevieve?” he echoed, trying to recall the features of the woman who had guided him to the right apartment.

“Curly red hair, beautiful. She waters my plants when I'm gone,” Lando explained, a hint of fondness in his voice.

“Must have been her then,” Oscar replied, mentally replaying their brief encounter and nodding in recognition.

“Did you get her number?” Lando raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“It was literally a five-second interaction, how was I supposed to get her number?” Oscar's cheeks flushed slightly at the suggestion.

As the night unfolded, Oscar found himself swept up in the vibrant energy of Monaco's nightlife. Dinner with friends and fellow drivers was a lively affair, filled with laughter and animated conversation. Then, the pulsating beat of the club beckoned, and Oscar and Lando danced the night away, revelling in the electric atmosphere.

“Fair enough. Nevermind, I'll just send it to you.” Lando chuckled knowingly. “You can text her and apologise for knocking on the wrong door.”

As they made their way back to Lando's apartment in the early hours of the morning, their laughter echoed through the quiet streets of Monaco. Their spirits buoyed by the exhilarating night, they stumbled playfully through the door, their cheeks flushed with the warmth of friendship and a hint of tipsiness.

But their jovial mood faltered slightly as they noticed Genevieve fumbling with her keys at the door of the neighbouring apartment. She looked up, surprised, as the sound of their laughter reached her ears.

"Hey, Genevieve!" Lando called out, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol but filled with genuine warmth.

“Oh, hey there! Looks like you had a good night.” Genevieve turned towards them, a smile spreading across her face as recognition dawned.

“Yeah, it was amazing!” Oscar chimed in, his words slightly exaggerated in his inebriated state.

“Glad to hear it. You guys certainly sound like you had fun,” Genevieve chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m actually glad I caught you. I can't get my door unlocked.”

Lando stepped forward, offering to help. Taking the keys from her, he inserted one into the lock and tried turning it, his brow furrowing in concentration. But to their dismay, the lock remained stubbornly unyielding.

Oscar exchanged a sympathetic smile with Genevieve, their shared amusement at the unexpected turn of events breaking through the tension. Despite the late hour and the lingering effects of the night's revelry, there was a sense of camaraderie in their shared predicament.

As they waited for Lando to work his magic with the stubborn lock, Oscar couldn't help but admire Genevieve. Despite the minor setback, her smile remained bright, her demeanour unfazed by the inconvenience.

“We might have to get maintenance out to help,” Lando suggested, his tone tinged with resignation.

“Let me give it a try,” Oscar offered, eager to lend a hand.

Lando handed Oscar the key, and with a determined expression, Oscar stepped forward. He inserted the key into the lock once more, feeling the resistance as he twisted and turned it, his fingers deftly manoeuvring the stubborn mechanism.

After a few tense seconds of pushing and pulling, a sense of satisfaction washed over Oscar as he felt the lock finally give way under his persistent efforts. With a triumphant click, the door unlocked, swinging open to reveal the comforting familiarity of Genevieve's apartment.

A chorus of cheers erupted from the group as they exchanged relieved glances, the tension of the moment dissipating into shared laughter and camaraderie. Despite the minor setback, there was a sense of accomplishment in their success, a testament to their resourcefulness and teamwork.

“Nice work, Oscar!” Lando exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back with a grin of appreciation. Oscar grinned back, feeling a swell of pride at the successful resolution of their predicament.

“Thank you so much! Both of you,” Genevieve expressed her gratitude with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

“No problem,” Oscar replied with a polite nod, returning her smile.

“Oh, Genevieve, this is Oscar. He's my teammate.” Lando seized the opportunity to make introductions.

“Hi, Oscar,” Genevieve greeted him warmly, extending her hand in a friendly gesture.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Oscar responded, shaking her hand with a friendly smile.

Before any further pleasantries could be exchanged, Lando interrupted with an urgent declaration. “Flip, I need the bathroom.”

With a hurried apology, Lando dashed away, disappearing into his apartment in search of relief. Left in the hallway with Genevieve, Oscar couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's sudden departure.

“Well, it seems Lando's in a bit of a rush,” he remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"If you're not in a rush, can I offer you some coffee for your trouble?" Genevieve offered, her hospitality extending beyond mere gratitude.

"Sure, that'd be lovely," Oscar replied, touched by her kindness.

With a grateful nod, Genevieve gestured for Oscar to follow her into her apartment. As she shut the door behind them, a sense of warmth and comfort enveloped them, the cosy atmosphere a welcome contrast to the cool night air outside.

Oscar took in his surroundings with curiosity, noting the tasteful décor and inviting ambiance of Genevieve's living space. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, adding to the sense of cosiness and hospitality.

Settling into a comfortable chair, Oscar couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events. What had started as a simple visit to Monaco had evolved into a night filled with laughter, friendship, and unexpected connections.

As Genevieve busied herself in the kitchen, preparing coffee with practised ease, Oscar reflected on the serendipity of their encounter. Despite the minor hiccup with the door, it seemed that fate had intervened to bring them together, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and newfound connections.

As the hours slipped away, Oscar and Genevieve found themselves immersed in conversation, their words flowing effortlessly as they explored a myriad of topics. From lighthearted anecdotes to deeper reflections, they shared stories and insights, each moment deepening the bond between them.

As the night wore on, the gentle rhythm of their conversation slowed, the weight of exhaustion settling over them like a comforting blanket. Genevieve's head gradually dropped, coming to rest on Oscar's shoulder as her breathing softened into the steady cadence of sleep.

Feeling the weight of her head against him, Oscar couldn't help but smile, touched by the intimacy of the moment. With a sense of tenderness, he shifted slightly, adjusting his position to provide her with greater comfort.

And as the quiet of the night enveloped them, Oscar too felt the pull of sleep tugging at his consciousness. The warmth of Genevieve's presence beside him was comforting, her steady breathing lulling him into a state of peaceful relaxation.

Eventually, fatigue won out, and Oscar closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the embrace of sleep. Wrapped in the tranquillity of the moment, he drifted off, the gentle rise and fall of Genevieve's breathing serving as a soothing lullaby, carrying him into the realm of dreams.

As Oscar returned to Lando's apartment the following morning, a buoyant energy infused his every step, his heart light with the joy of newfound connection and unexpected camaraderie. Despite the early hour, his spirit soared with the exuberance of a schoolboy, his thoughts abuzz with the memories of the night before.

Entering the apartment with a spring in his step, Oscar greeted Lando with a wide grin, unable to contain his excitement.

“Mate, you won't believe the night I had!” He exclaimed, his words tumbling out in a rush of enthusiasm. Lando raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he took in Oscar's giddy demeanour.

“Sounds like you had quite the adventure,” he remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

“Oh, it was more than an adventure, Lando. It was... it was magical,” Oscar gushed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

As he regaled Lando with tales of his night spent chatting with Genevieve, their conversation stretching into the early hours of the morning, Oscar couldn't help but relive the moments of connection that had made the night so special.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Lando's question hung in the air, prompting Oscar to pause and consider his response. With a determined smile, he met his friend's gaze, his excitement palpable.

“I'm going to take her on a date,” he declared, his voice brimming with certainty. “And when I get back to the UK, I'm going to start packing my stuff to move to Monaco, because she's just incredible.”

The words spilled forth with a sense of conviction that left no room for doubt. In Genevieve, Oscar had found something special – a connection that transcended mere friendship, igniting a spark of possibility that filled him with renewed purpose and excitement.

As he contemplated the future that lay ahead, Oscar couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the adventures that awaited him in Monaco. With Genevieve by his side, the possibilities seemed endless, each moment brimming with the promise of new experiences and shared dreams.

And as he shared his plans with Lando, the support and encouragement in his friend's eyes only served to bolster his resolve. With a grateful nod, Oscar knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges and uncertainties, but he also knew that he was ready to embrace them, fueled by the fire of newfound love and the boundless potential of the future.

“I knew you'd like her,” Lando teased, his tone playful. “I did give you her apartment number to begin with anyway.”

Oscar couldn't help but chuckle at Lando's teasing remark, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“I owe you big time for that,” he replied with a grin, his admiration for Lando's intuition evident in his words.

[dominophile]

TW: suicide (the whole piece leads up to that), talk of infection, talk of blood, talk of decay, gun mention and use, just general angst

Also warning: some hinted at oc x canon. I know that's not everyone's jam.

This is a Trolls Infection au. This piece is the thoughts and actions leading up to my oc (Gizmo) taking his own life.

I think this is a nice show of my writing skills! (and maybe people will request stuff /j)

Please keep in mind this is an oc writing piece, it includes some characters that don't exist in canon!

Fiend belongs to @plague-doctors-tomato-soup

With all that said and done, read away! And if you see a spelling error no you don't 😊 /j

Trolls Infection: Gizmo's Chosen Fate

Gizmo sits on the grass, friends gathered around him making sure he's ok. He doesn't notice. He's staring at the blood soaked grass in front of him.

Why keep going when this fate befalls everyone he knows?

He already lost two of his best friends, granted one was still alive somewhere in the woods, just infected beyond recognition. But he knew. He knew it was her the moment they locked eyes before she sprinted off, protecting him just as she did when they were alive and well.

Why did his life matter so much, that even the decaying disease ridden body of his closest friend would care to save his ass again? Especially since that's what sealed her fate in the first place.

"Hey Gizmo, you ok...?" He snaps back to reality, hearing his name.

"...I'm fine Floyd. I just... I gotta stop wandering off I guess." He concludes. That wasn't the truth, and he was sure Floyd knew that. But he also knew Floyd wouldn't pry, not now.

There was at least a little truth to his words though. He had been wandering off lately. He wasn't sure why, but he just felt like... searching. For what he had no idea, just something.

He would often find himself deep in the woods, the sounds of creatures nearby, hidden by the inky black of night didn't scare him. After all, dying by the hands of a wild animal would be a mercy at this point. At least he wouldn't end up killing off his own friends like if he was infected.

He barely notices Floyd helping him up off the ground, just moving whatever direction he was pulled.

He walks back to camp in a daze. This couldn't go on, he couldn't stand living like this anymore.

He was useless in a fight, he knew he was dragging the rest of the group down.

He couldn't just run either, every time an infected came hear him, he was no better than a deer trapped in the headlights, knowing certain death was near but never moving to avoid it.

That started with Creek. For whatever their often strained relationship was worth, he had liked the guy. A lot actually. It was an added bonus to have someone who knew meditation and breathing methods too. He was calmer, for a while. He felt safe somehow. Maybe that's why he didn't run when he saw what had become of the other. Why he looked past the animalistic, murderous look in his dull eyes. Why Fiend wasn't here with him anymore.

Just him being here was causing so many problems. He didn't want to be a burden like that

His other option was being a coward, but he didn't mind. As long as he never had to see the last few people he cared about become infected.

So the plan was set.

Gizmo spends the rest of the day in high spirits. Singing duets with Poppy, scavenging with Branch, spending quality time with Floyd, whatever anyone in the group wanted.

When he has a moment, he digs through his bag, it holds some essentials, but mostly a few things he thought to be valuable to him. Sentimental value had kept him going at the start of all this.

He spends some time handing out his things to everyone in the group. Brushing off the concern from a few of them.

"It's nothing I just care"

"I was scared of losing it"

"this suits you much better"

Finally, he has two things left. His own personal choker, and his hug time bracelet.

The bracelet went to Branch. He didn't have his own, so Gizmo had a great excuse to hand it over.

His choker was another story, and he doesn't give it up until the sun begins to set

"Floyd, hey, can I talk to you?" He calls out, waving Floyd down and smiling brightly.

"What's going on?" Floyd asks, walking closer to the unsettlingly cheerful Troll.

"I have a gift!"

"A gift?"

"Yeah!" He takes the choker from around his neck, and places it in Floyd's hands.

Floyd looks at him, obviously confused, so Gizmo elaborates.

"It's to remember me by!"

"Remember you...?"

"Mhm! You never know what could happen, so when something does, don't forget me, ok?"

"Gizmo nothings going to happen to you, we all will make sure of that"

"I know I know just- please promise me?"

"But-"

"Please Floyd. Just promise you won't forget me. For my peace of mind please just promise me." The happy disguise falters, and he can feel tears threatening to fall if he's not careful to keep his emotions in check.

Floyd hesitates. "...Ok. Yeah I promise, of course I won't forget you. I could never."

"Good!" Gizmo brightens up again. "Now it's getting dark, let's get some rest?" He suggests, already walking back to the others who are settling in for the night. Floyd follows, but he doesn't say a word.

Time passes, everyone falls asleep, Gizmo is curled up like a cat against Floyd, but he's not asleep. His eyes are open, his vision blurry from the tears.

Eventually, he stands up, careful to not wake anyone. He sits up against a tree where the moonlight is hitting it just enough that he can see what he's doing. He pulls a piece of paper and a pen from someone's bag, and begins writing.

I love all of you. So much. Don't think my actions mean I don't. By the time you find this note, I'm hopefully long gone.

I don't have a place here, I think you all know that. I got my best friend killed, because I couldn't fight.

So with that said, don't any of you give up like I am. I'm a coward, I already know that. I always have been.

Stay safe, stay alive, find a way out of this. I know you guys can do it once I'm gone.

I'm sorry I couldn't handle this. I'm sorry I took the easy way out. I love you.

With all my love,

Gizmo

Gizmo looks at the note, cringing slightly at his own sloppy handwriting. It was readable, it's fine.

He reads the last part, wondering if who that's meant for will figure that out. He hopes not. In some sad way he's sure they already know what's going to happen, even before they'll read the note.

With a sigh, he takes the paper and places it under a heavy rock, making sure it's still visible.

He then rumages around quietly until he finds a small gun. He fumbles with it until there's only one bullet inside. No reason to take their supplies beyond what he needs after all.

He moves to his own bag, digging around the few remains of items inside and pulling out what Fiend left him. His only remaining possessions he didn't hand off to the others.

He puts everything on, takes a deep breath, and turns away from the group, walking into the dark forest.

He's searching again, but this time he knows what for.

He's looking for an end. His end. To finally finish this chapter and close the book for good.

He walks, taking in the sounds and smells of the forest. It was eerily quiet, almost like the forest itself knew what was about to happen, and was offering a moment of silence.

He finds a small clearing, surrounded by trees almost in a circle. To someone else, it would seem creepy, but he felt at peace. He knew everything would be ok again soon. It was almost over. He was almost free.

He turns back the way he came, looking out into the woods. He knew the camp was that way, where all his friends we're sleeping peacefully. He hopes their dreams serve as an escape from the nightmare reality has become.

He takes a shakey breath, absentmindedly setting the gun up to shoot. He doesn't move his gaze, instead holding the gun up and placing it against his head.

Then he smiles. Tears stream down his cheeks, but he's smiling.

"I love you Floyd" Is all he can think to say, not giving himself the time to think the words over before he pulls the trigger.

Boom.

A gunshot sounds throughout the forest, echoing around the trees and scaring the birds up into the sky.

The sound was louder than Gizmo probably intended, but he couldn't do anything now. His world was already faded to black.

Finally, he could sleep at last.

[meganehaven]

Sylas Rozulcht - Alchemical Researcher

Who was he, again? After waking up to a land corrupted beyond recognition, Sylas had lost all of his memories, including his sense of self. All that remained was a drive to “make things right”. It was that very willpower that kept him alive. Guided by the spirit of a swordswoman named Raili Eiden, Sylas works endlessly to purify the corruptions and free everyone's souls.

the main character in a newer oc universe of mine called The Forgotten Researcher. still working on a couple other character designs...

[godsfavdarling]

chapter 24

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!oc

summary: Molly's days are becoming more difficult to bear.

list of chapters, also available on wattpad and Ao3, my masterlist

warnings: just sad. again. prison arc!

words: 1k

a/n: i know chapters have been shorter but I like shorter chapters! plus i wanted to show the passage of time!

Molly sat beside Diana on a weathered wooden bench in the park, surrounded by the early hints of spring. The trees were still bare, their branches reaching up toward the pale blue sky, but the promise of new life lingered in the crisp air.

"Diana," Molly began softly, "I wanted to talk to you about Spencer."

Diana turned to her, her eyes clouded with confusion. "Spencer?"

Molly nodded, her heart aching at the reminder of Diana's struggle with Alzheimer's. "Yes, Spencer is your son. He's the one I write letters to every day."

Diana's brow furrowed in concentration as she searched her memory. "Spencer... Yes! He's the one who used to play in this park when he was a little boy."

Tears pricked at the corners of Molly's eyes as she listened to Diana's words. Despite the fog of her illness, there were still moments of clarity when she could recall memories from the past. It was both a blessing and a curse, a painful reminder of everything they had lost.

"Yes, that's right," Molly said, her voice catching in her throat. "Spencer loved this park. He used to run around these trees pretending he was a cowboy."

Diana smiled at the memory, her eyes lighting up with a spark of recognition. "He always had such an adventurous spirit, didn't he?"

Molly nodded, her heart swelling with love for both Spencer and Diana. "Yes, he did. And he still does, in his own way."

As they sat together in the park, surrounded by the quiet beauty of nature, Molly realized that some things were beyond her control. She couldn't change the course of Diana's illness or make her remember Spencer as he once was. All she could do was cherish the moments they had together, however fleeting they may be.

With a heavy heart, Molly leaned into Diana's side, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence. And as they watched the sunlight filter through the branches overhead, she silently vowed to keep Spencer's memory alive, even if only in her own heart.

...................................

In the depths of her solitude, Molly found herself engulfed by a suffocating sense of helplessness, the weight of Spencer's absence pressing down on her like an anchor dragging her into the depths of despair. 

Each passing day stretched on endlessly, a relentless reminder of the void left behind by his absence, and as the weeks turned into months, she felt herself sinking deeper into the abyss of loneliness.

Every moment without him felt like an eternity, each passing day a cruel testament to the life they once shared. 

She longed for his comforting presence, for the warmth of his embrace and the reassuring sound of his voice. But amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf her, Molly found solace in the presence of Diana.

Yet, even as she found refuge in Diana's company, she couldn't shake the gnawing ache of longing that consumed her soul. 

Every glance at Diana served as a painful reminder of Spencer, a cruel twist of fate that left her heartache raw and unyielding. She found herself retreating further into herself, building walls around her heart to shield herself from the pain of her loss, yet no matter how hard she tried to bury her emotions, they lingered beneath the surface.

The days blurred together in a haze of sorrow and longing, each moment overshadowed by the specter of what could have been. She yearned for the simple pleasures they once shared, for the laughter and joy that filled their days before tragedy struck. 

Yet, no matter how hard she tried to recapture the past, it remained forever out of reach, a distant memory slowly fading into the recesses of her mind.

Despite the darkness that threatened to consume her, Molly clung to the fragile thread of hope that remained. 

She prayed for Spencer's safety, for his swift return to her side. She longed for the day when they would be reunited, when she could hold him in her arms once more.

But until that day came, Molly found herself trapped in a limbo of despair, a prisoner of her own longing. She knew she had to be strong, for Diana's sake if not her own, but the weight of her sorrow threatened to crush her beneath its relentless tide.

The weight of unspoken secrets bore down heavily on Molly's shoulders, adding an extra layer of anguish to her already burdened soul. 

As she grappled with the depths of her despair, a chilling realization took hold: there were things she couldn't share with Spencer, things too dark and painful to utter aloud.

Each day, as she sat down to pen her daily letters to Spencer, the weight of those unspoken truths hung heavy in the air. How could she bring herself to confess the unspeakable horrors that had befallen her in his absence? How could she burden him with the weight of her suffering when he was already enduring so much?

The thought of telling Spencer filled Molly with a profound sense of dread, a gnawing ache that twisted her insides with every passing moment. 

How could she look him in the eye and tell him of the nightmares that haunted her sleep, of the darkness that threatened to engulf her every waking moment? How could she bear the weight of his disappointment, his anguish, his pain?

And so, she remained silent, burying her secrets deep within the recesses of her soul, hoping against hope that Spencer would never have to bear the burden of her suffering. 

Yet, even as she clung to the fragile illusion of normalcy, the truth lingered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Molly found herself sinking deeper. 

And with each passing moment, the thought of telling Spencer grew more distant, more unattainable, until it seemed as though it would remain forever out of reach.

Yet, even as she struggled to find the words to convey the depths of her suffering, Molly clung to the hope that one day, somehow, she would find the courage to speak her truth. Until then, she would carry it with her, a silent burden that weighed heavy on her heart, casting a shadow over her every thought and deed.

[oddberryshortcake]

I love hearing about OC's

Tell me about yours! Fun facts hc whatever let me hear it!!

Okay so for twst oc characters that are now publicly known- (and please look at Emilio on Cozymochi's blog he's great, I'd probably say he's mostly hers but I write with him a lot and we share lore!)

Katerina Vallis is a 3rd generation Greek-American. Her grandparents immigrated to America from Greece (both pairs of them, but only her mom's side of the family is still alive.) Her mother's maiden name was Panagopoulos, and her father's last name is Vallis- which funnily enough, Vallis comes from the Greek status name "Valis" which means "Prefect"

Kat had a bad experience with a past boyfriend that has made her generally distrust men. This is a problem as she gets spirited away to an all-boys magic school.

She's a talented fencer as she was trained as a child. She hoped that if she could help her school's female fencing team win the state championship, that her teammates would want to be her friends. They didn't. Most of these hobbies were imposed by her parents, particularly her mother. Among fencing, she was also introduced to modeling at a young age and horseback riding. If she got to choose, she'd draw and make a little story.

Emilio Estrada Alvarez came from a family of fisherman before his parents perished at sea, leaving him to be adopted by his Aunt and Uncle at 6 years old. He's been living with them, his Grandparents, and his cousins ever since, who are infinitely richer and prominent figures in their home country (His uncle is a member of the grand council for the Queen.) Emilio's sense of self has been skewed over since and he obsessed over status and recognition.

He and his cousin's mothers were sisters. His Aunt sometimes says he looks like his mother.

Emilio gets special permission to leave campus and return to his home country to celebrate a holiday that celebrates deceased loved ones in November

[rasshu-benaio]

〚 I Can Take It 〛 Part 2 🔞MDNI🔞

A Demon Slayer Gyutaro X Reader

- Reader Attributes: Adult (obviously)/ Fem/ Darker skin tone/ sundere

- Gyutaro Attributes: Dominant/ mean spirited/ soft spot for reader/ greedy/ bitch

- Warnings/Content: CNC/ Fighting/ implied battle/ explicit sexual content/ adult × adult/ blood play/ shaming/ toxic relationship

⚠️NOTICE⚠️ This is based off of the official plot of my MAIN fanfiction that is an OC/insert x Gyutaro SFW fiction so please refrain from stealing? Idk how to steal writing but people keep referring to that so ima say it too!

It was dark in your bedroom as the soft red light mixed with your darker skin tone… The demon standing above you was careful and quiet as he looked at your body; examining every inch of detail you had. From being an experienced demon slayer, you had small scars and cuts on your body but the lanky demon seemed to focus on a nasty bruise you had. A portion of your back was darker than the rest, the muscles around that area seemed twisted and mangled… it was undoubtedly the damaging blow that Gyutaro did to you that fateful night, rendering you home-ridden.

The demon didn’t seem to feel bad about doing such damage, it came naturally to him. He didn’t even seem to feel bad about putting you in such a pitiful state, he actually felt good that it was him that fought you and not a demon like Douma. But, something did tug at the back of his mind as he looked at you laying down; a sense of hopelessness. Knowing that he did this to you meant he would never be forgiven, right? He would never truly be embraced by your humanity and compassion like the humans you’ve sworn to protect… It must be nice to be someone loved you.

It makes him jealous just thinking about it

His expression seems cold now as he pulls out his blood sickles, believing that killing you off right now would save him the future issues that would come with someone like you. A hashira would never give him a chance, a human would never look at his tired face lovingly, a person like you would never want him. His fangs clenched as he began to think of you not with hopefulness but with foul rejection as he looked at your neck, ready to cleave your head clean off just like how you did him! It was justified anyways! You had it coming, right?!

But as the monstrous demon riled himself up, he got distracted by your bright red eyes beginning to open… Not fully registered, you look at the repulsive figure arching over you but you don’t say a word as you lay dazed and tired. The demon coldly observes your clueless expression turn to recognition and then to anger as you begin to sit up! Immediately, his large boney hand clamps down around your mouth as he shoves you back down and then with a stern voice he speaks.

Gyutaro: Stay Down, if ya know whats good for you…

You glared with aggression as the demon just looked at your pathetic wittle face and your angry wittle eyes… it was cute. But in his mind, he was forming his plan of action. Should he kill you and eat your body? It was a rare treat in Japan to devour a foreign human as strong as this… Maybe he should take you back to his private room and abuse you? He could finally have his own personal play thing that he could flaunt to the other demons! Or maybe just seeing you was enough… maybe, he didn’t want to personally kill you, not today at least. He had already caused you enough pain, he lost his chance with you if he even had one, and you would obviously be better off not knowing his actual intentio- ***

Immediately, the bedroom was filled with a painful groan as you stabbed the demon in his skinny caved in midsection?! You were injured but you weren’t going down like a bitch! Gyutaro hissed as he snatched the small blade from your hand! That was Gyutaro’s breaking point as he roared out and grabbed your toned legs, pushing them up and over towards your head causing you to yell in pain! Your spine could barely handle this position as you desperately tried to pry this demon off of you but he was too strong and heavy! With how he was stretching your legs up to your head, you felt like he was going to rip them off but unfortunately he wasnt doing that just yet…

If only you stayed quiet and meek, then maybe, just maybe, this weird repulsive demon wouldve convinced himself to just give you a light scare and abandon you where you lay but you just had to do something drastic. Twisting that dagger in his side made him mad and he was just on the verge of leaving you be! But now you had to pay the price for annoying this pent up demon. A pitiful price to pay for something so brash.

(Im sorry •c• I promise the next part is the stuff… just give me time, my cat brain tryn to wok)

[simcardiac-arrested]

(digs up a concept and sketches from october) monster au anyone ? ?? creaturas??

[classpectingcaxy]

WOAH YOUR ANALYSATION SKILLS ARE ACTUALLY SO STUNNING!!! If you don't mind, can you please classpect-ify my OC, Abby Linmoe? More information if needed:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1QGvcaBMhRepMZjeLvmDi9W9VcNW2slZPMZYuaThhqJw/edit?usp=drivesdk

Sorry if it's too messy, I am very sleepy lmao

OKAY FIRST OF ALL

That genuinely made me cry. It's so simple, but those last words hurt me in the soul ;-;

ANYWAY

This took SO much effort to think through and analyze, and I think I've hit a satisfying conclusion!

Onto the analysis, below the cut.

My immediate thought is that Abby's Aspect is Hope. As for Class, from what I see there, I can't help but think she would have been a Sylph or a Maid.

There's very little canon information on either one, and the examples we do have of them have very little in common, so understand most of this will be theory.

But...I think Sylph may actually fit Abby better. I'll explain why in the analysis.

Sylph

We have very little information on Sylph as a Class, the Classes are often based on real world ideas and concepts, and the Sylph shares it's name with a mythological creature: a "soulless air spirit". We can assume that, like with Witch, Knight, Seer, Maid, etc, that Sylph also has ties to it's "real world" counterpart.

Thus a Sylph is likely a passive Class, the spirit of their aspect in a way that invites their aspect, embodies it, and, if Aranea is anything to go off of, presents their Aspect to others. This could manifest in any way from Aranea's information sharing (thereby presenting Light to others) to Kanaya's auspisticizing (thereby presenting Space between others to avoid toxic pairings).

We can also glean from the two Sylphs we see that a shared trait is their appreciation of their aspect. Not so much as an innate understanding, but rather a recognition of its particular importance that fuels their desire to share it, whether or not they understand WHY it's important.

Hope

Hope is the aspect of belief, faith, imagination, and hope itself. Hope players have strong morals, stronger beliefs, and a powerful faith in those beliefs. Their imagination is their greatest asset, and can be anything from a tool that helps them motivate to do what needs done, or it can be used to actualize the things they need into the world.

Hope players are often optimistic, in their own ways, but this does not inherently mean "cheerful" as much as "looks at the silver lining". Eridan is an example of a "depressive optimist", in that he is rarely in a good mood, but is constantly shifting his focus, and his view of the situation, into something positive, while Jake is an example of a stereotypical optimist (for the most part).

Hope players, as a symptom of their nature, tend towards selfishness, but not inherently in a negative way. They simply have a strong focus on their own personal beliefs, ideas, and morals, with little attention span for those of others. This does not mean they don't support others, they simply have a hard time pulling their mind from their own imagination.

Hope players can often be seen as those "with their heads in the clouds", and typically have a lesser grasp on reality, though with the power their belief and imagination can give them, they have an easier time turning dreams into reality.

Sylph of Hope

A Sylph of Hope would be one who is a spirit of Hope, embodying it and presenting it to others with their mere presence and by being who they are.

They would be optimistic, imaginative, hopeful, and as they embody imagination and belief, they would likely be gullible and naïve. They would most likely have an overabundance of morals and beliefs, and be almost TOO eager to share those morals and beliefs with anyone who will listen.

Like their morals and beliefs, they would likely be filled to the brim with ideas, from imaginary friends to imaginary worlds, from thinking of new ideas on how to handle things to ideas on how to make things, and would be eager to share these thoughts and ideas with anyone that doesn't make them stop talking.

Overall, a Sylph of Hope would be imaginative, hopeful, painfully optimistic, have incredibly strong morals and beliefs, and as talkative and open an individual as they come, but would also be extremely gullible and easily swayed to new ideas and beliefs, serving almost as a sponge of Hope and it's concepts.

Closing Notes

This, I believe, fits Abby best! Let me know what you think, though!

[ikeromantic]

Another Skein

This is for my dear friend @scruffymctee a gift to celebrate her. Featuring her OC Tomoyo in a red string of fate AU story. TW for major character death, violence and general scary stuff. 6K words. Much love to you, my dear!

Kenshin stood between the burned-out husks of what was once a village. The blackened buildings sank into the char and mud, slumping toward their final resting place beside the bodies of those that lived there. The empty eyes of the dead followed him as he walked through the narrow streets, the white of his cloak almost obscene in this dark place. 

The scouts told him no one survived the mystery attack. No one could tell him who his enemy was, or where to point his sword. He felt his jaw clench. What good to be the God of War if your enemy would not go to battle against you?

Some innate sense drew his hand to his hilt as he turned onto another of the narrow streets. A feeling of threat the rest of this dead place did not possess. And then, from the wreckage of a teahouse, some wild thing leapt. It screamed with rage and loss, a spirit of vengeance. It was only his instinct that let him draw in time. 

Himetsuru-Ichimonji shrieked as it collided with the rust-pitted blade of his enemy. Kenshin’s blood sang. A fight. A battle. A foe to destroy. Finally. 

The demon jumped back, surprised by his defense. 

Kenshin tried to make out the features of the thing he fought. All he could see in the dim shadows of this alley was long, dark hair and ragged grey clothing in the general shape of a human. If it had a face, the features were hidden, though he could see the gleam of a jade-green eye as the spirit came for him again.

“What are you?” The warlord side-stepped the blow. His own blade flickered forward, drawing across the thing’s arm. The edge came away stained scarlet. It was a creature of flesh then. “Who are you,” he asked this time.

It did not answer, but attacked again. Despite the wound on its arm or perhaps because of it, the spirit’s attacks came faster. A brutal onslaught. For several breaths, Kenshin could only defend. Ichimonji was too long to wield in such narrow confines, and there was little room to maneuver. He needed to end this quickly. 

Through the next exchange of blows, he watched carefully for an opportunity. It came a moment later, as the spirit swung its sword. Kenshin blocked with his tsuba and slipped the hardened wood under the creature’s grip. With the strength and skill of a practiced swordsman, he used the leverage to knock the blade from his opponent’s hand. 

Before the spirit could materialize another sword or dissipate or whatever it might do, Kenshin pinned it against the wall. He dropped Ichimonji to pull his small belt knife and held it to the thing’s throat. “Why did you attack me?”

The spirit tilted its head to regard him. The tangled mess of dark hair fell back to reveal burning green eyes staring out of an angelic face, a cupid’s bow mouth twisted in a snarl, silken skin smeared with ash and dirt that could still not disguise the beauty beneath them. That jade gaze was unfocused, distant. She did not see him, but fought in some other battle made real in her mind. 

Kenshin almost drew back from the fight, but he could not release her. She would attack again, and there was something else about her. Something that pulled at the lonely vastness in his soul. “Look at me, woman. Answer me.”

She struggled in his grip as if to escape and resume the fight.

He held her tight, pressing her back against the wall. “What did you see here? What happened?” Kenshin forced her gaze to meet his, emerald fires met his mismatched eyes.

She started, a sudden recognition lighting in her eyes. Her mouth moved as if to speak, a word forming on her lips. Then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed back against the wall. 

Kenshin caught her in his free hand before she hit the ground. Frustration boiled up in his chest. He needed to know who was responsible for this and she was his only witness. This wild, fierce, woman, driven mad by whatever she'd experienced. He stared down at her face in consternation. In her present state, with the anger gone from her expression, she was even more beautiful. And he felt a strange sense of knowing. As if they’d met before. Which was impossible, of course. He knew few women, and none of them warriors.

He put away his knife and picked up Himetsuru-Ichimonji, apologizing silently for his treatment. He also took the rusted blade she wielded and tucked that into his belt. Then he lifted her up and carried her back to his camp. 

The field doctor he traveled with was only a soldier who once apprenticed for an herbalist, but he knew his way around wounds and could mix and apply most basic tinctures and salves. Kenshin brought the woman to him, parading past the stares of his surprised troops. 

In the light of the medical tent, he could see the girl was covered in bruises beneath the tattered fabric of her kimono. The doctor cut the fabric open, and Kenshin turned away. He did not want to strip her of her dignity. Behind him, he could hear the steady flow of commentary from the field doctor. 

“These wounds are a few days old. Yes. Ragged cuts. Interesting. This one. Ah. Infected. Well, well.” 

Kenshin was curious, but he distracted himself from temptation by taking out her sword. It was well made but had not been well cared for. With some work, it could be restored. But it was odd. Short and light, as if made for a woman. And there was no proper maker’s mark. Only, on the kashira, an impression of a rabbit was embossed into the metal cap. 

He set it on a table, out of her reach but close enough that she could see it when she woke. Kenshin turned his head enough to see the field doctor from the corner of his eye. “Will she live?”

“She will. The girl has several wounds as if she fought for days, maybe longer. One is infected, which I believe caused her current condition. Fever and lack of proper food and water.” He sighed. “It will take some time, but I think she will be fine.”

“Then see to it. She is the only witness to this attack. The only one who knows the face of my enemy.” And there is something about her, he did not add. Something that made him want her to live.

The field doctor gave a short nod. “Of course.” He turned back to his work. “Who do you suppose she is, anyway? She’s too pretty to be a farmer. But there’s no daimyo near here. A merchant, maybe?”

“Perhaps.” Kenshin did not think any merchant girl could wield a sword as this one had. “Let me know when she wakes.”

He left the tent and the mystery woman, though he could not put her from his mind. Kenshin let his troops know they would be camping there for a few days, and sent out some of his men to forage. They were nervous here, so close to the village ruins, but since their warlord gave no sign of discomfort, neither did they. 

Kenshin did not hold with foolish superstition. The dead were dead. If they should curse anyone, it would be the one that took their lives from them. Still, he understood why the soldiers were quiet and wary as the sun set and the light of day faded into the gloom of night.

The foraging scouts brought back little to supplement rations. They said the land was empty for miles around, with barely so much as a bird or a mouse stirring in the brush. This set the soldiers muttering again as they bent over their dinners, huddled even closer around their fires as if the light would ward them.

He took his meal in the medical tent, sitting across from the lone survivor. Kenshin studied her face, relaxed now as she slept peacefully. The familiarity of her face only grew the longer he looked at her. The feeling disturbed him, of knowing and not-knowing, as if he’d lost some part of himself and had not even realized it. 

“Who are you,” he asked, letting the back of his hand brush against her cheek. The answer felt as if it was close, as if his mind were just one step away from recalling her. 

A scream split the night, sudden and horrible. The sound of a man dying. Kenshin knew it well. He rushed from the tent and toward the chaos. That first scream was joined by others. He found one of his men on the ground, his face frozen in fear. There was no visible wound on him, but he was dead. 

The soldiers were experienced men, and they knew what to do in a raid. But their tactics didn’t appear to be helping. Kenshin found a knot of soldiers carrying torches and joined them. They moved slowly, going from tent to tent, searching for survivors or some sign of the attackers. None of the men saw anything, only their own comrades lying dead. 

The torchlight swayed and guttered with the evening wind, dimming and flaring unexpectedly. Kenshin’s eyes strained to see into the darkness between the tents, hoping for a glimpse of steel or the white of an eye, or to hear the whisper of stealthy movement. Anything that would give his enemy away. 

The moment came when one of the torches guttered out for good. The flame popped, flared, and then fizzled, plunging Kenshin and two others into darkness. His soldier scrambled to light another. That was when it came. The stirring of shadows. They shifted and congealed into a shape vaguely human, a hand reaching for them. 

Kenshin did not think, he only reacted. His body moved before he considered the motion, drawn sword slicing through the limb. But Himetsuru-Ichimonji’s edge met no resistance and that horrid arm stretched closer, brushing against the soldier beside him. 

The man let out a howl of pain and fear. His back arched, his face contorted. He gasped for air, his body drawing as tense as a bowstring. And then he collapsed.

The other soldier finally got a new torch lit, just in time to see his companion fall. He made a strangled sound of fear as the shadow-arm pulled away from the dead man, recoiling into the darkness. 

Kenshin did not let it retreat though. He cut at it again, and this time, in the nascent torch-light, his blade met the resistance of some sinewy flesh. Stringy and tough as old meat, but not too tough for the razor edge of his sword. The severed limb turned to ash as it fell, while the rest of the blighted darkness disappeared into the gloom. 

“D-did you see -” the torch-bearing soldier trembled. 

“I saw an enemy that can be killed when in the light.” He gazed at the man, his disparate eyes as calm as a snow-swept plain. “We need to surround the camp with fires. Come.” They spread the word to the remaining men, and those soldiers began the work of lighting a ring of campfires. They stayed in pairs, each bearing a torch or lantern. No one wanted to be caught without a light.

While his men worked, Kenshin stalked between tents. His roving gaze searched for any sign of a deeper shadow. Of movement. That liquid oily slide of blackness. He wanted to fight it - to destroy it - whatever it was. Spirit or demon, the specter could be cut and if he could cut it, he could kill it. 

A flutter of tent fabric caught his attention. The waxed fabric floated for a moment, caught in an unnatural current of air. The movement of something unseen. Kenshin brought the flame to bear, Ichimonji lashing out a heartbeat later. He felt the edge catch in flesh, and then pass through. He stabbed again into the roiling dark revealed by the flickering torchlight. But then, the unexpected - with a snap, the tent-ropes came loose and the fabric smothered the flame. 

The soldier carrying it quickly untangled the singed fabric, and tried to relight the torch. The flicker of sparks from the flint and steel threw the shadowy shape into sharp relief. A gloom that boiled and rolled into itself, flowing into tendrils with the shape of human limbs. 

With each sputtering strike, Kenshin slashed at the shape and it hit at him. The light made it too solid to reach beneath his skin. Instead, it left bruises and sometimes cuts, drawing blood to the skin with its cold touch. The feel of it was like oil and ice, sharp and hard as stone. Neither could get an advantage so long as the light only flickered.

Through the camp, another chorus of screams erupted as the shadows extinguished the light. Lamps fell to the ground and lost their wicks, campfires dimmed from otherworldly cold, and torches died. Without the light to fight back, they were helpless in the face of this threat. Kenshin needed to win, and fast. Every second cost him another life. 

“Light the torch,” he rasped, but he knew even as he gave the order that his soldier was doing his best. The creature they fought killed the flame each time it sparked. Kenshin had to face the possibility that he would die here tonight. Such an unexpected end for the God of War. If so, he vowed to die fighting. 

His lips curled in a feral snarl as he went on the attack. Light or no, he would do his best to make the specter pay for every ounce of blood it took. Just as he lunged, his world erupted into bright, white light and from that light came an avenging angel. 

A green-eyed banshee with a rusted blade. The onslaught of light seemed to catch the shadows by surprise as well. It boiled and twitched but did not have time to flee as she drove the point of her sword into the central mass of darkness. There was a sound then, somewhere between a scream and the hiss of a tea pot and the rustling of wind through trees. Then it was gone. The light faded too, as suddenly as it came. 

The woman shook her sword off and took a deep breath. She shut her eyes for a moment, but opened them again when Kenshin took a step closer. “Thank you,” she said, her voice unexpectedly soft. 

“What?” Kenshin raised an eyebrow. He was still wrapping his mind around the horrors of this night and she was speaking in gibberish.

“You brought me back. You helped me. And I am no one to you.” She sounded almost sad as she said this. Then she shrugged it off, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. She turned to speak with the field doctor. 

It was only as she did that Kenshin noticed the man was carrying a lamp and an oddly shaped bit of glass. A mirror, angled, he noted. The source of that bright light. Now, without the glass, it was only lamp light again. Mellow and less focused. 

“You are injured. You should be resting.” Kenshin reached for her arm and was surprised when she moved faster than him to step out of reach. 

She gave him an even look, challenging and full of an inner fire. “I’m fine. I heal fast.” After a moment of silence, she sighed and gestured at the surrounding camp. “I’ll explain later. We need to destroy the rest right now. If they didn’t run already.”

Her directness and her calm were intriguing. Kenshin let her lead him, along with the doctor and the two soldiers. The torch-bearer was finally able to light his torch, and so the four of them walked in a warm circle of light. They paced through the remains of the camp, but found no more sign of the specters. 

None of the other soldiers survived the attack. To a man, they lay dead, faces twisted by the fear they felt in their last moments. The woman stopped at each and said a prayer. 

Kenshin watched her movements, graceful and strong. She spoke with an educated voice too, sweet without a note of falseness. The sound of her prayers stirred some deep memory in him. He needed to know who she was. Her name. Her family. Where she was from. The sense of familiarity grew the longer he was in her presence.

“Lady,” he said, as she paused before another dead man. “What is your name?”

“Tomoyo.” She glanced at him from beneath a fall of dark, tangled hair. 

“Tomoyo.” He tasted the word, let it sit on his lips. He felt as if he’d spoken it a thousand times before. It rolled so naturally over his tongue, sweeter than fine wine. “I am Kenshin.”

“Yes. Uesugi. I know.” She smiled for a moment, the expression transforming her from angelic to divine. 

He blinked. “So you know me? Where did we meet? I would not have forgotten -”

The woman opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again. Then she dropped to the ground and slid beneath a torn scrap of tent fabric. “Put out the light,” she hissed. “And hide!”

Both of the soldiers obeyed with alacrity. Somehow, in the space between dusk and midnight, she’d become an authority to them. But she had that quality in her voice that brooked no disobedience. Kenshin followed suit, and tucked himself away beside her.

Tomoyo gave him a brief, amused glance before she turned her attention back to the night. 

Kenshin did not have long to wait to see why. Only a few breaths passed before the gloom began to lighten with a fey glow. Barely a light, the strange blued flickers came from the skin of a pale man who now paced between the tents. He wore an Uesugi tabard, the clan’s mark displayed proudly on his breast. But Kenshin did not recognize him. 

The man knelt beside each body and slid his hands over the cooling flesh. He whispered into the corpse’s ear and wrote a symbol with his finger on their head. From some of the dead, a darkness rose, coiling from their mouth in an ethereal sigh. From others, there was nothing. The man seemed to take both results with uncaring equanimity. 

Kenshin realized the dead Tomoyo blessed gave the stranger nothing. Only the unblessed released a shadow. He eyed her with renewed interest. She’d given him a name, but little else. He wanted - needed - to know more. She knew what was happening here, or she knew more than he did. “Why are we not attacking that man? He is human. He can die.”

Tomoyo nodded. “He is a sorcerer. I tried to kill him twice and nearly died for it.” She shivered. “Or worse.”

“I am the God of War. I am not afraid of a man who hides behind spirits and incantations.” This was mostly true. In his experience, these men were usually frauds. This magic was more real and more terrible than anything he faced before. 

She wrinkled her nose. “You need to be patient. I didn’t say we would not attack. If you let me finish?” Her eyebrow rose imperiously and Kenshin felt a strange, sudden wave of affection for her. As if she’d made this face before, in a better time and place. At his silence, she continued. “We will go after him at dawn, when the sun is up. He’s more powerful at night but I think together we can take him in the light.”

“I don’t fight beside women. You are too distracting. And weak. I will attack him when the sun rises. You stay hidden.” She was distracting, he thought. Lying here under the tent fabric, where the ground was cold and the dead lay nearby, all he could think of was the warm press of her body against his side. How close she was to him, how lovely her features. Foolish thoughts to have in a dangerous place.

“Pffft. You didn’t seem to mind my help earlier. When I saved your life? Or did you forget already?” She tilted her head, observing him.

Kenshin stifled a reply, realizing she was right. Instead, he asked, “How do you know these things?”

Tomoyo shrugged. “I have been fighting this one for awhile now. Following him. He and I . . . let’s say I have some scores to settle.”

“You . . . followed him?” Kenshin could not hide his surprise. 

“Of course. How else does one fight a demon or lift a curse? It’s not as if they come to your shop looking to be slain.” Her smile was wide and bright and sharp. “Technically he isn’t a demon. But he summons them so . . .” Another shrug.

Kenshin felt that tug of familiarity again. The way she moved, the way she smiled, he knew those motions better than he knew his own reflection. “I feel as if I have seen you before,” he admitted, surprising himself with this vulnerability.

“Do you? Hm.” Something in her gaze shifted and she glanced away. “It won’t be long now. An hour or two and the sun will crest.” She yawned. 

“You can sleep, if you want. I will keep watch.” He shrugged his cloak off and set it on her. “I am not tired. Or cold.” 

Tomoyo wrapped herself in the cloak with a sigh. “I won’t say no to that kind of chivalry. It’s rare enough. But you better not try to leave me here at dawn. Because I will hunt you down for lying.”

Kenshin frowned. “You have my word. I will wake you when the time comes.”

This seemed to mollify her. She settled beside him and fell almost immediately to sleep. 

He kept alert through the watch. It wasn’t hard to stay awake when things moved in the night, just beyond vision and sounds floated over the camp that came from no human throat. He couldn’t imagine how she could sleep. Kenshin could make out the lines of her face, relaxed now, the shape of her lips in a small smile. 

The memory of kissing that gentle mouth came to him the way warmth comes from the hearth, slow and filled with as much pain as pleasure when your limbs wake from the cold. Kenshin knew the taste of her, the feel. And he ached for that touch again. Was this madness born of the same magic that haunted the night? He wondered it even as his fingers reached to stroke her cheek. 

He could not remember the last time he felt this way about a woman. It was different than the unchecked passion of his youth. His heart felt heavier, bittersweet with this unexpected affection. The desire to make love to her was there, yes, but the need to hold her was just as strong. And this woman was no fragile flower. Nothing like the ladies that came to his castle in hopes of catching his eye. 

Tomoyo was a beauty, but also a fighter. Intelligent and resilient - a survivor. She had scars from the battles of her past - he’d seen a hint of them in the medical tent - but those only served to enhance her beauty. As if every fire she passed through only refined her. Kenshin wanted to know the story of every mark, to be entrusted with the secrets of her heart. 

These feelings were new to him. New, and yet with her, they felt natural. He wondered what she felt, what thoughts and dreams swam behind her flickering eyelids.

Dawn came on them with inexorable slowness. The first hint of gold simmered along the eastern horizon, staining the clouds gold and pink. Light spilled over the barren fields and across the camp. The terrors in the dark fled, leaving only the dead in stark relief. The carnage of fallen tents and corpses.

Kenshin woke Tomoyo. 

Her eyes opened, brilliant jade and vibrant with life. She met his dichromatic gaze with an untroubled smile. “Morning, beautiful.”

He blinked. “What did you call me?”

“Beautiful. I mean, I could have said lovely or gorgeous but I think Beautiful is the best. Do you disagree?” Her eyebrow went up. “Should I catalog your features? Tell you how pretty you are in detail?”

“Please don’t.” He felt heat creep into his cheeks. What manner of woman was this, to make him blush? He forced his lips to a thin frown. “This is no time for idle flirtation.”

Tomoyo reached up to cup his cheek. Her fingers were warm and he felt himself leaning into the touch. “Now is exactly the time. We might die today, and these could be our last moments. I could lose you aga - ah - or you could lose me. Or worse. So why should we not?”

Kenshin laid his hand over hers and closed his eyes. “I barely know you,” he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he felt they were not true.

She gave a soft laugh. “Is that so? Hm.” 

He opened his eyes again to regard her mysterious smile. “I feel as if I have known you all my life.”

“Maybe you have.” She pulled her hand away and untangled herself from his cloak. Then the two of them stood. 

Kenshin wanted to ask her more, but they had a duty first. “Do you have an idea of where the sorcerer spends his days?”

“I do. There is a house in town that only scorched. The roof and walls are still up, and it is there that he spends his days. I don’t think he will have moved from it yet.” She rolled her shoulders back, a determined fire lighting her gaze. 

“Then I will gather the last of my soldiers and we will go.”

A short while later, the four of them made their way into the dead village. The two soldiers did their best to look brave, but Kenshin could see the slight tremble in their hands and the way the whites of their eyes flashed at every sound. He judged it better to leave them hanging back aways. They were competent swordsmen, but today they faced a different kind of foe. He would not expend their lives without a purpose and he saw none in having two extra blades for this fight.

Tomoyo stopped them as they neared the center of the village. “There is the house he was in before.”

Kenshin looked at the soldiers gravely. “Guard the path. Make sure we are not interrupted.” 

The two men looked relieved to not be going in, and hid it badly. “I-If that’s your order, sir. Yes sir.”

When the two of them were in position, Kenshin turned to Tomoyo. “You have been inside this place?”

“Yes, once.” She grimaced. “I could not counter both his physical and spiritual attacks. Somehow, he wields both at the same time. But with the two of us there, I think we can defeat him. You can keep me safe while I dispel his magic.”

Kenshin nodded. “Will the shadows be there? Or is he alone?”

“The spirits of the dead are always around him, but in the daylight they cannot harm us. Just . . . don’t go into any places the sun does not reach.” Tomoyo patted his arm. She looked as if she wanted to say more. 

Kenshin felt a sudden compulsion, and despite himself, he gave in to it. He pulled her close and kissed her. It was not the deep, sweet, languorous kiss of his memories, but a passionate, unexpected flare too brief to satisfy and impossible to justify. 

She stared up at him in surprise. Then her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him down for another kiss. This one was deep and intense. It made his body ache with desire for her, and his heart race. Her lips were as sweet as he remembered, her tongue like silk. 

He did not want to let go, but the two of them stepped apart. Tomoyo cleared her throat. “So. Are you ready?”

“I hope this is a good fight.” Kenshin gave her a fierce look. “That man must pay for what he has done.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She grinned at him. “And after. I have questions.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I might answer them after I question you.Thoroughly.” Kenshin thought he saw a blush rise in her cheeks. Good. He turned to look at the abandoned house. “Let’s go.”

They did not slip into the house like thieves. They walked in as if they were fearless, Kenshin and Tomoyo side by side. Their swords were drawn, faces set with grim determination. 

The sorcerer was waiting for them. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air became cold and thick. Pressing forward was like moving through wet sand. When he saw that they were slowed, he began to chant, calling up some other horror.

Kenshin pushed toward him, his muscles bunching and burning in his legs and back. He felt a cold anger burning in his chest. He wanted vengeance for his slain soldiers, justice for the dead of this village. He was their lord, and this was his duty.

Tomoyo cut a symbol into the air with her rusted blade. Sweat pearled her forehead as she moved the edge in careful arcs, as if carving the gelid air. The room shivered. Dust flew up from the corners, and the wooden walls creaked. The tension in the air burst apart, shattering by whatever power she wielded.

They didn’t have time to celebrate the momentary success. Just as Kenshin rushed forward, freed to move, the falling motes of dust moved as one toward him. Tiny specks of nothing, they flew into his face, clogging his nose and eyes, and filling his mouth with the taste of ash and mud. 

“Why are you here, cursed one? Did you follow me from the hell I left you in?” The sorcerer looked past the choking warlord to Tomoyo, his dark eyes cold and remote. There was nothing in his voice to say what he thought of this, whether he was surprised or angry or disappointed.

She bared her teeth in a grin of challenge. “There is no hell you can lock me in that will hold me.”

“Then I will kill you.” The sorcerer bent his fingers into an impossible shape, as if the bones of his hand were formed from some other, less rigid matter. As he did, the wood beneath Tomoyo split open like a maw, the splinters jagged teeth that hooked and bit at her legs. 

“You will try to kill me. Again.” She blocked the chewing hole in the floor with her sword and kicked away from it. Her leg bled from where it caught her and as she landed, she flung droplets of scarlet at him. They turned diamond-hard and sharp as razors in the air, piercing him each place they hit.

Kenshin, still choking, rushed toward the sound of the sorcerer’s voice. He did not need to see to kill. His blade rose and fell, finding flesh. His eyes burned from the invading grit and his nose and mouth felt raw. He coughed and spat and rubbed at his face, trying to see what he’d wrought.

The sorcerer made no sound as the sword cleaved through his raised arm. He only glanced at the bleeding wound as if it mattered not at all. A pool of crimson formed around him.

“Step back,” Tomoyo shouted as the blood edged toward Kenshin. 

He heard the warning in her voice. Though Kenshin did not understand, he stumbled away. 

Tomoyo moved closer, slow and wary. She brushed a hand down Kenshin’s back and at her touch, he felt the dust fall away. 

The sorcerer did not look impressed. “You think because he lives in this world, you will too?” He gave her no time to answer. The thickened blood coiled like a nest of serpents, striking at them.

Kenshin reacted out of instinct, cutting them down as they moved toward him. But the severed ends splashed to the floor, the runnels forming smaller serpents. 

“Focus on the man, not the magic.” Tomoyo’s emerald eyes flashed, still confident and strong. “He’s getting desperate to use such children’s tricks.”

“You are desperate. Afraid I will win again and you will be caught out, alone. With nothing to show for all your efforts, all your imagined strength.” He laughed, the sound full of scorn and anger. The first emotion he’d shown in this fight. “What use to stand up after every fight when you know I will knock you down again?” His laughter seemed to echo through the room, growing in volume. “I am never desperate.” 

“Perhaps not,” she mused, her expression fierce. “Maybe the word I’m looking for is pathetic. A vulture, picking at the dead, stealing from those too far gone to defend themselves.” She jabbed her blade toward him. “I am not defenseless. And you will not win this time.”

Kenshin wondered how she knew this man, another question for another time. He took advantage of the distraction to lunge forward. A sweeping slash that gouged a trench in the sorcerer’s chest. 

This wound he noticed. The reaction was immediate. He screamed, a high pitched and inhuman sound. Like the cry of a wounded bird. From the cut, a darkness boiled. Bloodless and black as midnight. An oily smoke that roiled and hissed in the light. The sorcerer gestured at Kenshin with his remaining hand, and the shadows within him leapt at that command.

In a heartbeat, Kenshin found himself surrounded by the cold, pressing gloom. Sharp edges and hard planes cut and beat at him from all sides. He could not see the room, could not see Tomoyo. The only sound was his own heartbeat and the dull rasp of torn and battered flesh. He fought however he could, twisting in their grasp. Biting and kicking, using every part of himself to refuse them. 

In the distance, as if she spoke from a mountain top, he heard Tomoyo’s cry. A wordless anger. He felt the sudden shift around him. As if all the air were sucked out, and then it all came rushing back. The shadows released him. They writhed and withered until there was nothing left of them at all. 

Kenshin blinked as his world tilted and the floor rushed up to meet his cheek. He could see the slumped body of the sorcerer. Then all he could see was Tomoyo’s face. 

“No, no, no, no. Kenshin. Stay with me. Oh my god, please. Don’t - don’t die. Not again.” She began tearing his clothes to strips, wrapping them around the worst of his cuts. “I didn’t come all the way here - I didn’t chase that bastard just to see him - to see you -”

Hot tears fell onto his skin. He felt them soak into his clothes and hair, like a summer rain. He closed his eyes.

“Oh!” Tomoyo’s pained gasp brought his eyes open again, though his eyelids felt so heavy.

“I . . . won’t die.” He smiled up at her, not understanding the movements of his heart nor the strange and sudden affection he bore this woman. A thin, red bit of gossamer hung from her wrist above him. His eyes followed the spiral of the string to where it met his chest, disappearing beneath his skin. A crimson skein that bound them. And then he understood. 

His lips parted to tell her - to say the words that burned in his soul. But the breath would not come, his lips felt cold and frozen in place. His eyelids were leaden and the darkness behind them was so peaceful. It pulled at him as the tides move the sea.

Tomoyo pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’ll find you again,” she wept. “I’ll find you if I must cross a thousand worlds, and live a thousand more lives.” I’ll find you, he swore, in the depths of his stilled heart. Don’t cry for what is lost. There is no expanse of time or space, no world exists in which I will not find you.

[pandoraarti-fnaf-blog]

A study.

I got these creatures called Wraiths, which appear in one of my worlds and they used to be regular ghosts/spirits before they transformed into these feral animalistic things that have no recognition of who they were before.

But it's a process that has a chance (2 out of 13% ) of happening after you've been dead for 80 years.

Reason why I'm posting this here instead of my main blog is because I was doing a study difference between adult Wraiths and children ones ( and no they don't reproduce it's basically that if it can become it goes it has a chance of becoming a Wraith)

And the reason it's on here is because I decided to do this with Cassidy and William because I got zero Ocs to do this with. ( and I should really fix that but I already have so many)

The biggest difference only being that adult and teenager ones are able to split their lower Jaws clean open. But children ones are extremely fast and are hard to hit.

But I won't bore you with any more of the details like their lore, weaknesses, Behavior, and different types as this is a Fnaf blog, and I should save that type of stuff for my main one.

[werezmastarbucks]

green

part one - Golden

part two - Silver

part three - Black

credence barebone x fem!OC

there was a boy, a very strange, enchanted boy

word count: 3461

author's note: it turned out as it did

Credence was dying.

He was gathering his stuff, the leftovers of his mind, and leaving this place. Meanwhile, he was watching dreams. Finally, he's seen the obscurial for what it was: a chaotic, confused creature, just like him, unsure of what to do. It wanted in, and it wanted out. It yelled, and gnawed at him, and obeyed him all the while. It didn't really want to hurt him explicitly; most of the time it was just pacing with pain. It was a wound, with blood gushing out of it, and it felt nothing but pain, so pain, it shared with him. Perhaps he shouldn't have fought it to begin with, but it was now too late. The obscurial was turning its forming head, looking around through his eyes. And when it was seeing the ceiling and the window, he saw them, too. He saw faces. The bearded face, the dark face, the freckled face, the beautiful face. It recognized some of them. It remembered the face that it carried once or twice. It knew no language, but he saw this face talking to him, pressing on his chest. Him, it, Credence, the monster. She pressed on his chest, as if trying to keep it in, not out. She sang him a song that lulled him to sleep and he started seeing dreams. It felt like he spoke to her because she replied. She dictated the pictures he saw as he slept.

There would be a boy, she was saying, who will think that the darkness will take him. But it will fail, and the boy will live, because he's strong. And Credence, she was saying, you're even stronger, I think you're stronger. Don't let the darkness take you.

He saw the dreams of New York, and those were the nightmares. He saw the snowy streets, cold, hollow, beige and white. Wind bit his hands like a dog. His skin was breaking apart and dark blood came out in droplets. The wind was so rageful. It was so cold, and he didn't have a coat, and he knew, that at home, it was worse than hell, so he awaited death. The obscurial was dripping from behind his right ear, cracking his skull in two. Someone held his hand. It was a firm, dry grip, someone was shaking him. He was dying, and he didn't recognize them much; he looked at them without any emotion, like he was an empty casket with a face.

Don't fight, don't fight, Credence, the voice said. Let it go. Let it flow.

And he did.

Orlaith left the room and closed the door quietly. It was her birthday, in the middle of summer. She didn't feel like celebrating anything, held by life and death from two sides. Equally painful.

She went outside to look at the street, for a change. They kept the window open in Credence's room at the Inn, but it was still very dense there. Very stuffy. He was releasing so much energy that it ate oxygen. Everything that's been consuming him was predatory, flesh and spirit eating. Sometimes he would tremble and shake, sometimes he would wake up and look at her, or his father, or his uncle, without a trace of recognition. In his eyes, black mist was twirling, it was the obscurial. It's the creature that was opening his eyes and peering outside, at their faces. It was the creature that made his body dance on the bed. The voice it used belonged to Credence, but it asked questions about itself. What am I, what are you, what year it was. Why is it so heavy that it can't get up. It was absolutely cemented to his body, and couldn't leave Credence, like he caged it. They were amalgamating.

She saw the older Dumbledore stroke his forehead and whisper. And the obscurial would rest, letting Credence rest, too.

There were people outside, crowded together in the dark street, like someone had used a deluminator on the streetlights. She walked on to see the stars better.

"Orlaith!" the voice called. It came from the group. She turned, looking at them, her eyes adjusting to darkness. Among them, she started recognizing faces. Oh! All of those faces she knew.

"Happy birthday?" Newt exclaimed, with a little bit of doubt.

Those were her friends. Albus Dumbledore, Newt Scamander, the Botanics teacher, Imelda Ginger, Lodgok the goblin, the farmer from the field, Mr Brance, and the serving elf from the castle, Purrypawn. Those were all her friends, she didn't have many. But they started shooting the fireworks in the air, illuminating the street in all the colors of the rainbow. The brightest one was the golden, forming a dragon up in the skies, that flew on, circling above the field, and then on and on, further into the forest. She saw the face of Tina Goldstein, her little nose crinkled in an amazing, wide smile. She'd never seen her before, but knew she existed somewhere. As they laughed, and yelled, and watched the lights, the thunder of the dragon shattered the houses. Credence saw the dreams of the circus tricks, with fire and magic, stars blown up in the air. Among the sparkles, he was seeing the golden sunbeams.

He woke up like someone pushed him with force. He opened his eyes, forgetting what day it was. It was very warm, unusually. Instead of the normal wooden bars on his ceiling he saw various witch amulets swaying on the strings. Weird, he thought, dangerous. If the mother sees that, she shall punish him mercilessly. He put out his hand, covered in old scars, and tried to reach them, but couldn't. Credence sat up, stood on his knees and started tearing them down. Those were the weridest pranks he's ever witnessed; there was a smal glass vile filled with some lilac powder; and a little soft figurine of an owl; and a glistening bronze symbol he didn't recognize. There was a small dream catcher, bright green and blue. He was in the middle of untying them all when he noticed that something was off about the room. It was spacious and light. He sat back in bed, confused, put his hands to his head to cancel out all sounds and think, and discovered his hair had grown much longer over the night. No, something was wrong.

He jumped from the bed and spun around in this unfamiliar room. It was nice; wooden table was propped against the window, and his bed was small but soft, with white sheets. He walked towards the mirror and didn't recognize himself at first. He looked ten years older than what he was supposed to be. The crack on his wrist wasn't itchy as it usually was, and he dug into the little cut with his fingernail. He cleared his throat because his mouth was so dry. Hearing his own voice, it suddenly stung him, like a recollecting spell. He was Aurelius. And he was ten years older. And he wasn't in New York anymore, but in Hogsmeade. He examined his face in the mirror. Apparently, he was also alive. So alive that he even looked healthier. His skin didn't feel cold, the black circles around his eyes went away. He moved without any ache, feeling the longing strength in his limbs. He smelt himself and nearly retched. The sun was dancing in his room, yellow pollen from the flowering trees on the floor. He stomped his foot, making it fly up a little; his hip wasn't hurting, and the pain that always punished him for sharp movements, never came. He looked inside and asked, are you still there?

I am, the obscurial replied, its voice deep and sticky.

Then why am I not hurting anymore?

I'm not hurting anymore, it echoed.

He ran to the shower, desiring nothing more than to wash away all the feverish, strange dreams off himself. He found some clothes in the wardrobe; shirts of his size, some pants, a vest, a black cloak. He put his hair away from his face into a tail on the back of the head. So that he could see better. He put on the white shirt because it fit him the best, and went downstairs, where he found Aberfort.

At first, the man didn't move, but stared at him in dumb silence. Credence watched his face covered in lines form a grimace of amazement. He had a very old face, his father. He couldn't have been older than forty five years of age, but he looked sixty. His eyes faded with the constant darkness he dwelled in; they have lost its light from looking at that portrait of Ariana all the time. He was stooping, like Credence did, but the worst of all was his mouth. Almost upside down, always hidden behind his moustache, it was ever tightly shut. He didn't dare approach him even.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice still not awake completely. He coughed to hear himself better.

"Forty-one days, Aurelius. Merlin's blessing, you have got out. You have made it".

The man cried silently, clutching onto his shy misery. He held onto the back of a chair, hiding his face in his other hand.

Credence walked up to him, put his hand on his father's shoulder.

"Thank you", Aberfort wailed, grabbing his hand like it was an evasive, unwilling ferret. "Thank you, Aurelius, thank you".

The first thing he did was going into the field. How simply good it was, just to live. To breathe without a second breath echoing inside his chest. To walk without every step stabbing his spine. He let the sun kiss him, lifting his face up. From this spot, Orlaith's house was seen. Or, rather, what was left of it after they'd gone. He fixed what he could, put the roof in place, and gathered the pieces of glass and clay crockery, but he didn't remember where was what. He couldn't find the shreds of furniture as they were probably so light - the feathers, the draping - that they had flown away, or had been picked up by birds for their nests. But he was quite pleased with his work. Doing magic was easy. It was less now like busts of his inner matter, and more like the magic itself. He had to focus to do it. And the wand obeyed him. The monster inside, a part of his soul, the little Credence dying in the cold with unwanted flyers in his hand, was slumbering in the safety of his ribcage as he finally allowed it. He saw his father watching him, always a house away. From the distance. As if he was about to drop dead all of a sudden. Maybe not now, not anymore.

"Um, dad", he asked, approaching. Aberfort flinched like he was hit on the face, "where is she?"

"She went away just yesterday. With Albus, they're looking for Grindelwald. She spent half of day, every day, with you. Albus had to drag her away from your bed".

"When are they coming back?"

"I think today. They aren't far. Go to the castle, maybe they've already returned".

He took a long stroll through the valley, paying attention to everything around him. The honeysuckle, and the bumblebees, the summer pollen in the air, and the black, awaiting mass of the forest, and, most of all, Hogwarts. The name she always said with a special tingle in her voice. He expected the grass and the flowers to whither when he stepped past them, but they did not pay attention. The world around finally accepted him. Credence still wasn't sure this was a promised future, but only clung on the strength, and feeling of having rested for a full life ahead. He felt timidly grateful, undeserving of this beauty, anxiety striking him. This was too good to be true. He could now cut off his old years with a sharp knife and never look back, things like that never happened to Credence. No, but maybe they happened to Aurelius?

The castle stood almost empty, and ghosts, who were not very numbered, prevailed in the halls. He walked quietly, feeling like he was intruding. Hogwarts was, unlike Nurmengard, light, and welcoming. The hallways were wide and made of white stone, and the portraits on the walls watched him with overt curiosity. The fountain in the hall through which he entered had statues of mermaids, who moved their heads and he walked by. There was a soft, barely audible hum to the castle, perhaps those were the walls snoring. He got lost in the unending corridors, the stairs, the unexpected turns. Finally, he noticed the sun started going down slowly. Credence froze in the middle of the corridor, unsure.

"Are you lost, young man?" a female voice asked him. He moved his eyes towards the sound with horror. She was flying on a broomstick, and she was absolutely naked. The witch smiled at him, eyeing him.

He quickly lowered his gaze.

"I- I'm looking for Albus Dumbledore", he said quietly.

"You're almost there. He's in the Defense class".

"I don't know where it is..." he confessed. The witch hummed and flew away. He stared at the empty frame for a second.

"Are you coming?"

"Excuse me, Bella, would you be kind and leave my painting?" another, unhappy voice called. Credence followed the sound.

"Peace, Formulonda", Bella replied, poison in her voice, "a little reminder of beauty won't hurt you. Follow me, pretty boy".

Credence swallowed, embarrassed for some reason. He walked faster, trying not to lose the sight of her as she jumped from one painting to another. Bella led him through the dim hallway, and then they were in a light one again; they took the stairs up and then entered a wide corridor.

"The big door on your right", Bella said, trying to catch his eye.

"Thank you", he mumbled, and hurried away from her. Now that he wasn't burdened with the feeling of life fleeting from him, he remembered how scary it was, to be seen. Oh, it was hot. It was too much for one day already.

He knocked on the door. There was no answer for a while, but then he heard Albus' voice.

"Yes?" curious, energetic. He didn't know what to expect, and so, as he opened the door, the light blinded him. He saw Orlaith, by the desk together with his uncle, and it finally got to him. This was all real. He really made it.

"Ha!" Albus yelled, clasping his hands together. His smile could break apart the stone. "Ha!" He couldn't say anything else.

Orlaith was at loss of words, but she moved instead. Her eyes, the way they looked at him, they were the most beautiful. Credence prepared himself for the collision as she jumped at him, with her arms open.

"Cre-he-he-dence", she cried. Her little body against his, he realized he had been stooping again, and instead, embraced her, straightening his back.

"I was just away for one day, one day", she was hollering. With the tears on her face, and her hair on her face, too, in the glimmer of her gold, she looked like the greatest thing he'd ever seen; maybe like the wooden spirit, or a mermaid from the hidden pools below the blue rocks.

"You look so healthy, Credence!" Albus noted joyfully.

"I guess I'm better", Credence replied.

"Better? You're absolutely, irretrievably, positively well. Do you feel any weakness at all, any pain?"

Credence shook his head no.

Orlaith let go of him, sniffing, wiping her tears away with a whole palm, like a child, and looked at him closely.

"That is just great", Albus admitted, "good job, good job Credence, and you, Orlaith. I had no doubt it would all work out".

She sneezed out of surprise, hiding her nose in her small palms.

"What do you mean!" she yelled, "no doubts? You told me to leave all hope!"

Albus shrugged and tilted his head guiltily, with such a sheepish smile that Orlaith was stupified.

"Oh, you..." she finally uttered, "you absolute calculating, secret-keeping, people-manipulating, warlock chief. Did you make me, did you make me believe he'd die so that I, what?" "Oh, I didn't try to make you suffer, dear. But I did hold a little hope all to myself, I admit. I was really hoping it would work", Dumbledore responded apologetically.

"What would work?" Credence asked. Orlaith's face was moving with some unreadable expressions.

Albus looked at her with some hidden spell untold.

"Well? Don't you know? I thought you'd get it, Orlaith, since you know me through and through".

"Uh..." she puffed, frustrated.

"Love. The ancient magic", he clarified. "Only love could cure an obscurial. And I think I'd told you before at some point, but you didn't seem to pay attention".

She blinked.

"Love", said Dumbledore, "is the most powerful tool of ancient magic. It heals the wounds that would otherwise take the wounded to the world of dead. It shields us from the treacherous dark spells. Love is what cures even death itself sometimes. An obscurial could only be saved with love, from one side, and from the other. Your greatest strength was never your rage, Orlaith, although you seemed to think that. It was love that made the earth help you, the love you felt for the creatures that made the forest defend you. And you", he turned to Credence, "my boy, once you stopped fighting it, and pitied it, the part of yourself that had been nurtured by the lack of love, found its way back to your core. You never fight an obscurial. You understand it. You accept the love that will tame it".

They stood, dumbfounded, in complete awe of Dumbledore's speech.

Orlaith wanted to throw her hands in the air and yell, of course! Of course you are so simply right all the time!

They looked at each other like two schoolchildren, a little bit awkward.

"It would have taken immense strength out of you, of course", Albus added, giving Credence a proud tap on the shoulder. "You, being of our blood, a Dumbledore. You know you will be known as the boy who lived through one of the most trying conditions one could ever, possibly, have".

Credence scratched his neck, wishing he could stare at the wall and digest everything. Suddenly he saw Orlaith's smile leave her lower lip and the teeth biting into it. She gave Dumbledore a look of complete revery.

"What did you say?"

"That he's strong".

"No, after. The boy..."

"...who lived", Albus helped. "Why?"

She gasped, and then gasped again, and her stare became glassy.

"Oh. Oh..."

She gave Credence a desperate, loving look.

"Oh..."

Neither of them understood what's gotten into her. Orlaith looked like she was about to combust into flames on the spot. Thinking proccess reflected onto her face.

"I'll be back", she snapped suddenly, in a very shrill voice. Credence started getting worried. He looked at his uncle after she ran out of the classroom.

Albus was less concerned, - maybe a little, just out of politeness.

"She'll be some time".

"Does that happen often?"

"Once in a while. Do you want some tea? Will you please tell me how you feel now?"

They walked towards the stairs, Credence, throwing confused looks at the door.

Not a single word passable for print crossed her mind as she ran through the castle. Oh no, that was too much. She almost fatigued herself to death by the time she reached the Divinations rope ladder. She was being incredibly lucky - or Matilda didn't have a place to live? because the Professor was still there in the middle of July.

She didn't greet her, but shoved her head into the room, startling the soothsayer almost to death.

"Professor!" she shouted like mad, "I screwed up! I screwed up so much!"

Matilda clutched the dress on her chest in fright.

"What happened?"

Orlaith was stammering.

"The- the- the boy, the vision, remember, when I came to you, the tree, the boy!"

"Yes, yes, I remember that, miss Peverell".

Now, hearing this name was sure horrifying to her.

"The boy you've seen in the crystal ball, don't prevent the tree from growing! The boy!"

"Yes, what about him?" Matilda yelled, "the lost, dark-haired boy, what about him?"

"What eyes did he have?"

She tried to recollect what she's seen. Ah, it was easy for the child had very distinct, bright eyes.

"Green", she replied, "emerald green".

She let go of the ladder and crashed down on the floor, hitting her head on the stone. As she lay there, Orlaith watched the blurry bright opening of the class. Oh, she thought.

Uh-oh.

[asparagus24]

Guarding hearts 🖤

Chapter-1

Pairing- idol!seungcheol x female bodyguard!oc

Tags- dabbles into childhood trauma, mostly just background, work stress, mild sibling fluff

Warning- mild childhood trauma

A/N- This chapter is mostly just background on the oc seungcheol will be showing up in the next chapter, enjoyyyy :)

Yoon Jaehee’s family picture has only ever been her brother and maybe master Park. Jaehee's mother had so easily abandoned her responsibilities as a parent by finding another picture to be a part of, leaving Jaehee and her younger brother, Jaehyuk, to fend for themselves.

From a tender age, Jaehee understood that she had to protect and care for her brother. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon her small shoulders as she assumed the role of both sister and a parent.

While other children reveled in the joys of childhood, Jaehee forfeited her own innocence to shield Jaehyuk from the harsh realities of their existence.

With their mother basically absent and their father…let’s not talk about that.

Jaehee had no choice but to seek solace and support elsewhere. In her search for stability, she found a sanctuary within the walls of a local martial arts studio.

There, under the guidance of her mentor, Master Park, Jaehee discovered an outlet for her pain and frustration.

Martial arts became Jaehee's refuge, her haven from the chaotic storm that raged outside. Through relentless training, she honed her body and mind, transforming herself into a formidable force. Jaehee's dedication and natural talent quickly earned her recognition, and she became a standout student among her peers.

Years passed, and as Jaehee grew older, her commitment to martial arts never wavered. She became an invaluable assistant to Master Park, helping him expand his business and open several martial arts studios across the city. With each new studio, Jaehee's confidence swelled, and she dared to dream of a brighter future.

———————————————

Jaehee stepped into her cozy apartment, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment after the challenging meeting about expanding the martial art studios—Eternal Spirits Martial Arts academy overseas. She had hoped for a more positive outcome, but it seemed like they were a bit short on budget the budget for the expansion.

As she settled down on the couch, her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen to see Master Park's name. Master Park had been a father figure to her for as long as she could remember, providing guidance and support throughout her martial arts journey. She picked up the call, eager to hear his comforting voice.

"Hello, Master Park," Jaehee greeted, her tone filled with a mix of respect and warmth.

"Jaehee, my dear," Master Park replied, his voice carrying a gentle yet authoritative tone. "I heard about the meeting, what’s the matter?”

"Well for the most part we are short on the budget, the investors couldn’t agree on the contract and all.” She replied in a dejected tone

"Oh, if that’s it then I don’t think we are going to have much problem cause I know if anyone can do it, it’s my dear Jaehee " Master Park encouraged.

“I’m not so sure this time though they seemed pretty sure of their agreement”

“See I’m going to say what I always say—”

“If it’s meant to be it’ll find its way, I know Master park, also I’ll call you back I think Jaehyuk left some of his clothes over at my house” Jaehee said and hung up as she spotted a black bag on the couch

Realizing that it was the perfect opportunity to see her brother and bring his belongings, Jaehee quickly grabbed the bag and headed out. She made her way to Jaehyuk's dorm excited to meet her brother after a particular day of hardships

Jaehee stood in front of the door to Jaehyuk's dorm, holding his bag of clothes in her hand. She took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer.

Moments later, the door swung open, and Jaehyuk's face lit up with surprise and joy. "Jaehee Noona!" he exclaimed, stepping aside to let her in.

"Hey, Hyukie” Jaehee replied with a warm smile, stepping into the dorm. She noticed the presence of other individuals and realized they must be the members of Jaehyuk's boy group.

“Oh my god thank you noona for bringing my bag I was wondering where I lost it” Jaehyuk said as he spotted the black bag in her hands

“Of course can’t let’s you run around naked now can I?” Replied Jaehee with a smile, a few giggles could be heard from the living when Jaehyuk said “OH NOONA MEET MY MEMBERS”

As Jaehyuk introduced Jaehee to his fellow group members, she exchanged polite greetings and observed their interactions. She could sense the camaraderie and closeness they shared, which brought a sense of relief and happiness to her heart.

Engrossed in laughter and lively conversation with Jaehyuk's friends, Jaehee lost track of time. The hours flew by as they shared stories, jokes, and memories, creating a warm and joyful atmosphere.

As the evening wore on, Jaehee suddenly realized how late it had become. She glanced at her watch and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh no, I didn't realize it's gotten so late," she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine regret. "I really should be heading home now."

"Already? Time really flew by," Jihoon remarked, a hint of a pout forming on his face.

Hyunsuk chimed in, his tone filled with a mix of playfulness and mock disappointment. "Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?”

Jaehee couldn't help but smile at their reactions. She appreciated their warmth and inclusion, feeling grateful for the bonds her brother had formed with such remarkable individuals.

"I promise we'll catch up again soon," she reassured them, her voice filled with sincerity. "But for now, duty calls. I’m really sorry let’s catch up soon, plus I’ll be visiting jaehyuk often”

Jaehyuk, understanding his sister's commitments and responsibilities, nodded in agreement. "She's right, guys. Let's make plans to hang out again soon. Maybe we can all grab dinner sometime”

The members of Treasure nodded in agreement, the disappointment fading as they eagerly looked forward to their next gathering.

As Jaehee made her way out, she couldn’t help but ask hyunduk and Jihoon to have a little chat with her

"Hyunsuk, Jihoon," Jaehee began, her voice filled with sincerity and concern. "I know Jaehyuk has found an incredible family within Treasure, and I appreciate the love and support you all provide him. But as his sister, I can't help but worry. Would you both be willing to look out for him and take care of him when I'm not around?"

Hyunsuk and Jihoon exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to Jaehee. They understood the significance of her request and the responsibility that came with it.

"Jaehee, you don't have to worry," Hyunsuk reassured her with a reassuring smile. "We consider Jaehyuk family too. We'll always be there for him, just like you are."

Jihoon nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. We've got his back, no matter what. You can trust us to take care of him."

Relieved by their response, Jaehee expressed her gratitude. "Thank you both. It means a lot to me. I'm glad Jaehyuk has such reliable and caring friends like you."

With a sense of reassurance settling within her, Jaehee bid her goodbyes to the members of Treasure, promising to visit again soon. She hugged Jaehyuk tightly, “Call me soon ok? And make sure you eat on time, Oh and—”

“I get it noona you don’t have to worry ok,, I’m a grown up now”

“You can’t ever be a grown up in my eyes though, so just take care of yourself, AND CALL ME”

As she walked to her car, Jaehee couldn't help but feel a sense of peace knowing that her little brother had not only found his place within Treasure but also had dependable friends who would watch over him and support him on his journey.

The moonlit streets were bathed in an eerie silence as Jaehee walked briskly, her senses heightened by an inexplicable unease. A chilling breeze whispered through the alleyways, causing her to quicken her pace. The sensation of being followed prickled at her skin, compelling her to glance over her shoulder every few steps.

Heart pounding, Jaehee’s instincts kicked into overdrive. Her years of training as a MMA practitioner took control, preparing her for any potential threat.

As she turned a corner, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure trailing behind her, confirming her suspicions. Fear intertwined with determination, urging her to confront her pursuer head-on.

Without hesitation, Jaehee spun around, her body tensed and ready to strike. She lunged forward, launching a swift and precise attack, catching the unsuspecting figure off guard. In a flurry of movements, she immobilized him, pinning him against the wall, her grip firm and unyielding.

“OWOWOWOWOWOW WHAT THE FUCK????”

ok so turns out she had just attacked the world-renowned boy group SEVENTEEN’s leader, Choi Seunghcheol

Tag list- @shinetogether17

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