#sick like me (companion au) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

written-in-flowers · 8 months

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So Unlike You (Yunho x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!reader/ Side pairing: OT8 x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut sprinkled with fluffiness/ AU: sugar baby, idolverse

Summary: After hearing about you and Wooyoung, your sweet puppy makes a very surprising request, and you're eager to oblige him.

Warnings: cnc, consensual non consensual, rape play, edging, bondage, light bondage, spanking, pussy slapping, rough oral sex, oral sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it, but it's also discussed beforehand that they don't use one), pet names, mean names, roleplay, ripping clothes off, groping, polyamorous relationship, established relationship, poly!ateez, poly!reader, sugar baby au, idolverse au, dirty talk, super dirty, like damn. Sex toys, nipple play, nipple clamps

MINORS DNI!

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

Yunho was the sweetest, most gentle man you know. This was saying something considering your other boyfriends were equally sweet. He never hesitated to help or comfort you. You remembered him waiting on you hand and foot when you’d gotten sick. He’d driven you and Mihee to her ex-boyfriends’ house in case they showed up. Yunho never showed you anything other than respect, kindness and compassion. Yunho was your mood maker, your gentle giant, the other half of your “Twin Towers”. He rarely showed his “bad” side in front of you; you almost denied he even had one since he rarely rose to anger.

So, his request certainly caught you off guard.

You’d both come back home from a simple date night of arcade games, pizza, and a stroll down by the river. Yunho’s calming, laid back energy always felt refreshing after particularly rough days. You spent an afternoon wrangling toddlers, talking to parents, helping your friend Mihee settle into her dorm, and talking to your mom about your cousin's birthday party. Ending your day with your sweetest boyfriend relieved you of all the stress on your shoulders. Walking into the apartment together, you remained as quiet as possible to not disturb a sleeping Yeosang, so you both drank a glass of wine in the kitchen.

“You know that I love you, right?” Yunho asked nervously, sitting across from you at the island counter.

This phrase became popular amongst your boyfriends, since they typically followed it up with something suspicious. Still, how bad could it possibly be? It was Yunho.

“I’m aware,” you gave a sweet smile, “But you can always remind me, if you want.”

He gave a nervous laugh, running his fingertip around the rim of the wine glass. You could see him thinking it over in his mind, turning it around and around for the right words. Several scenarios crossed your mind as you watched him think. He’s ill. He’s in debt. His family is in trouble and he needs your help. There are so few things that could be wrong, but you hoped it wasn’t so bad.

“Yuyu-ah,” you reached out for him, concerned now, “What’s the matter? You can tell me. Are you sick? Is your family okay? You don’t need to hesitate with me, you know that.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he shook his head, taking your hand gently. “Really,” he insisted, “It’s…Wooyoung told me you and him tried something new in bed a while back and…”

A relieved smile came across your face, “And you wanted to try that too? Yunho, you don’t have to be scared to approach me about trying new things. I trust you with my body every time, don’t I? I didn’t think you’d like free use play, but if you’re curious about it, we can give it a go.”

“That sounds nice, but that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to see if you…if you…”

“If I…?”

“If you’d ever like to try consensual non-consensual play with me.” He blurted out the words before drowning them back with wine.

The request stunned you a moment. You sunk deep into your thoughts to try comprehending the suggestion. Not that you’re against rape play. You’ve heard of other people doing it, and you’d done it once with another client in a safe, trusting environment. But, you expected such suggestions from that person, not from Yunho. You pictured Yunho, taller and bigger and stronger, pinning you to his bed and harshly pounding into you while you whined and pleaded with him to stop. He’d have no trouble overpowering you if you truly fought back. Unlike other clients before him, you knew Yunho would only do it if you gave a firm, certain ‘yes’ and after a long discussion over ground rules and safety colors/words. Seeing his large hands, you remembered each time they went around your throat or sharply slapped your ass. Yunho could be rough and dominant if he truly wanted.

“You want to do that?” you asked, dumbfounded still.

“Um, well…” he smoothed a hand through his black hair, scratching the back of his head, “I’ve always wanted to try it with someone, but I never dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable asking. Since we’ve done kinky things together, I thought, maybe if you wanted to and felt certain, we could try that?” His puppy eyes met yours, and you melted. “I swear I won’t be upset if you say ‘no’. Please, don’t feel you have to agree with it because you’re my Companion or anything. We definitely do not have to do it, if you’re uncomfortable with that. I only thought I’d ask. It’s okay. It’s totally okay if you don’t want to do it.”

“Yunho,” you ran your thumb the back of his hand comfortingly, “If there’s anyone I’d feel comfortable doing that with, it’s you.”

A light pink brightened his cheeks, and he giggled, “Really?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll admit I’m surprised it’s you who asked me. I expected Hongjoong or Jongho to ask, if any of you ever did.”

“I know,” he blushed, “But I thought you might say ‘no’ because it’s not something we’d normally do in bed. It’d be different from the usual dominant stuff we do, and a bit rougher.”

“You want to wreck me, Yuyu?” you teased, laughing softly when he turned away again. “I don’t mind. I trust you to take care of me, and I think it's a new thing for us to explore.”

“Really? It's honestly okay if you don't want to,” he repeated.

“Yunho, yes,” you assured him, walking around the counter and into his arms. “I'd like to try it too. You want to do that now or another time?”

“No, not now,” he shook his head, “When Yeosang goes to see his parents. That way he doesn't over hear it and think that I'm actually hurting you. Besides,” he pulled you closer and smirked, “That way you can be as loud as you like.”

A laugh was muffled by his kiss. After getting his confirmation, you and Yunho discussed exactly what he wanted to do. He asked if you both could do “the entire act” which included you refusing sex and him not taking a “no” scenario. Nothing too elaborate, yet enough to set a dynamic and tone. You both decided on a color system, and your usual safe word “Buttercup”. Being a toy user, you told him you didn't mind the toys or if he decided to restrain you somehow, which led to a discussion about ropes or handcuffs that you left up to him. You agreed to a day and time that would be best for both of you, then went to bed together.

****

“Bye, Yeosangie!”

You kissed Yeosang for the hundredth time that morning, trying to capture as much of it as you could. He'd be gone for three days to see his parents, so you cashed in as many kisses as possible. Yunho’s request did excite you, so perhaps you appeared a bit eager to get him out the door at the same time.

“I'm going to miss you,” you pouted in his arms.

“I'll only be gone three days, babe,” he laughed, hugging you tightly still. “You have seven other boyfriends to keep you company until I come back.”

“But none of them will watch reality shows with me,” you said, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “Who's going to talk shit about bitchy housewives with me?”

You recently managed to get a VPN to watch reality tv shows from other countries. Yeosang quickly became your reality junk buddy after a Real Housewives episode.

“We can stream them online, and watch them together that way,” he replied. “We do live in the age of technology after all.”

“It's not the same,” you whined, hugging him.

“YN, he's not going off to war,” said Yunho from behind you. “He's coming back.”

“What if a war happens and he has to go before then?” You joked, mocking a sad tone and burying your face in Yeosang's neck. “I'll never see him again.”

The three of you laughed before Yeosang gave you one more kiss, then released you. You'd offered to drive him to the station, but he insisted that you stay home. A part of you wondered if Yunho hinted at the afternoon plans. The both of you let him leave, waving goodbye until he closed the door behind him. You tiptoed to kiss Yunho’s cheek, then went to clean up the breakfast dishes.

Your eyes paid attention to the time while you washed dishes. Yunho said he'd like to do it around noon, since that gave you both plenty of time before, during and after, so you suspected he was preparing his room right now. The anticipation left you thinking of all the possible things Yunho could do to you. You never experienced a mean Yunho before, but the members said it can be scary. You told him he didn't have to hold back with you; it's his fantasy and you'd be fine with whatever he decided. Since it's his first time doing this, he said he'd be gentle but once that arousal boils up, that might disappear. Finishing up the counter space, you looked at the clock to see it was half past noon. You worried Yunho might have been too nervous and backed out. Even though it was his idea, you told him if he ever changed his mind you wouldn't be upset and he said vice versa for you. You’d moved to wait in the living room when he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Hey you.”

Yunho stood there in a long black shirt and shorts. His face bare and hair free of product, Yunho stripped down to his real self. You often said how you preferred them without all the makeup and hairspray. The stylists always made their skin a lighter shade, and they covered up Yeosang's pretty red wine birthmark. Seeing Yunho as himself, wearing simple clothes, flustered you more than his stage outfits. He leaned against the counter, eyes already peeling off your clothes. Heat rose up from under your shirt at the sight. It reminded you of the villains in dramas, who ooze sex appeal and wickedness at the same time. The kind that are hard to root against because they're so damn good looking.

“Hey,” you kept your tone light and casual, “I just finished cleaning up. I was going to watch this new movie I found, if you want to join me.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, eyes focused on your chest, “I have something else I want to do instead.”

“Game?” You suggested innocently.

“No,” he drawled, shaking his head. He walked around the counter towards you, eyes glinting with lust. His hands rested on your waist, while he leaned into you, “I'd like to do you.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, sliding from his warm embrace, “Not now. I'm tired, and not really in the mood.”

“But…” Yunho scoffed incredulously, “That's your job though.”

You hesitated. You never thought such words would come out of his mouth. “Yunho…”

“You're a Companion,” he continued, “Fucking me is your whole job. Sure, okay, we go on dates and all that, but at the end of the day if I want some ass, you're supposed to give it to me.”

His words. The irritated look in his eyes. Intimidating and standing taller, you couldn't help being flustered by the change in him. He should do more acting.

“I don't have to if I don't want to,” you argued back, yanking your wrist from him.

“Yes, you do,” he roughly grabbed it back, “It's not like you don't like it. You give it up to Hongjoong all the time. You let us gangbang you in front of cameras, and at home. I'm not going to ask you to do anything you haven't done a hundred times before.”

You made an attempt to escape his grasp, but he really did hold onto you. Quickly, he pulled you to him as you struggled and planted a hard kiss on your lips. He told you he wanted you to truly fight him back; he assured you he wouldn't hurt you too badly. You lightly slapped his shoulders, wriggling in his hold as the kiss deepened and he forced his tongue into your mouth. A soft groan escaped him as he trapped you between himself and the counter. You swatted at him, trying to scoot free as he kissed and nibbled down your neck. The bulge grazed against you kindled a fire inside you, but you forced it back down.

“Yunho-ah, stop it,” you scoffed, pushing him away briefly. When you slapped him lightly, he glared. It aroused you further.

“No,” he grunted, hands wrapping around you once more. You squeaked at the hands squeezing your ass, feeling it through the thin shorts you wore. “I'm horny, and your job is to fix that. Let me see these.”

“No!”

You tried blocking his hands from sliding under your top to lift your shirt, but it didn't work. He lifted the tight top above your breasts, which he immediately kneaded in his hands. Yunho’s jaw dropped at the sight of them in his palms, your nipples hardening against his palms. You’d opted out of a bra today, and you’re glad you did. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Using one leg to spread yours, Yunho groaned as he cupped both breasts.

“Stop,” you said, trying to cover them from view but purposefully failing. “I'm going to call Hongjoong,” you threatened.

“For? For him to come watch?” He smirked, flicking at one of your nipples. “He loves watching, and I normally don't mind, but I want to keep it just you and me today.” You grabbed his wrists when he moved down to your shorts, shaking your head and breathing heavily. “Let me see you,” he ordered, “It's mine, after all. I pay for it.”

“I don't want to,” you shot back, though you did not appear as confident as you sounded. “Leave me alone.”

“No.”

You gasped when his hand grabbed your sex. Long fingers sliding fully over your shorts, he massaged it in circles that had you frozen in place.

“Gosh, it's so warm,” he moaned, his other hand going back to fondling your breast. “And it gets wet so easily. I only have to rub it a few times and it's soaked. We really hit gold when we got you.”

“Let go,” you demanded, but didn't move.

Yunho then turned you around, pressing you into the counter once more, and continued feeling you up. His hardon brushing your ass now, he let out a low moan when you instinctively pushed back. Soft panting filled your ear as he lightly touched you. You pushed against his hands, trying to tear yourself from him, but he kept a firm grip on you.

“Yunho, I mean it. Let me go.”

“Ugh, shut up already. It's not like I haven't done this before.”

“I will tell management. I'm not kidding.”

He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder, and scowled. “Go ahead. I'll tell them you asked for it and they'll believe me. Nobody believes sluts like you,” he grabbed your chest again and pinched your nipples, “I’ll even tell them you didn’t wear a bra. ‘Well, hyungmin, YN wasn’t wearing a bra, and I was only giving her what she wanted’,” he said in a mocking tone, his voice tickling your nerves, “‘Noonanim, YN wanted it a little rough’. Honestly, YN, who do you think they’ll listen to?”

This empty threat made you hold back a giggle. You never expected him to be so in character.

“Buttercup,” you snorted, unable to hold it in.

“What's wrong?” His concern dropped once he heard you giggling. “What? Is it too cheesy?”

“No, it's you being so in character.”

“I did work on a drama once. I guess you can say I'm an actor,” he kissed beneath your ear, “Do you want me to dial back the realness?”

“A bit.”

“Alright. Time in?”

“Time in.”

Returning to his character, Yunho took your arm and started dragging you to his room. Your heart started racing, a breath catching in your throat at the sudden roughness in him. He brought you into his room, slamming the door behind him and threw you onto his bed.

“Yunho!” You exclaimed before he forced himself on top of you. “Yunho, stop it!”

“No,” he grunted, taking hold of both your wrists. “You're my girlfriend. You're supposed to fuck me whenever I want, and right now, I want it.”

“Yunho, please!” You added a whimper at the end as you let him take your wrists.

He grabbed a belt from beside you and wrapped it around your wrists. You still wriggled beneath him as if trying to escape, but you made no real escape attempt. The adrenaline sent blood rushing to your core. Every single nerve in your body tingled each time his body brushed against yours. Holding down your arms, Yunho kissed you deeply again and grinded into you. His hardon pressed lightly against your thigh each time, and he followed it with a soft groan. You let out more whining, even turning your head before he grabbed your chin to roughly kiss you. One hand putting your hands onto a hook on the headboard, the other slid up your body to your breast for a soft squeeze. Unable to free your arms, you could do nothing but move around as Yunho kissed and caressed your body. Large, warm hands slid up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through your shirt.

“Give me clothes you don't care about. I want to rip them off you.”

You'd left an old tank top, shorts, and underwear in his bedroom last night. When you got them this morning, you saw he'd made small slits in each piece to rip them easier. He'd cut into the tank top by the neckline, which he took a hold of now. He stayed on top of you, grabbing your tits while he continued grinding into you. You never realized how much stronger Yunho is compared to the other members. Mingi, Jongho, San and Yeosang worked out often, so you expected it, but Yunho had size on his side. He kept you firmly pinned even with the belt and hook aiding him, and he made sure your hips did not move too much.

“I don't know why you bother with clothes,” he grumbled, “Whores don't need clothes.”

You yelped when the sound of ripping fabric followed, exposing your bare chest to him. Hungrily, Yunho took one nipple in his mouth to suck while his other hand pinched the opposite side. He continued grinding into you, groaning softly. You loved how you could feel his dick through his pants, hard and pulsing in his boxers and into your center.

“Yunho, please stop,” you cried, giving a sniff. “Please, don't do this.”

“Shut up,” he growled, kissing further down your body.

“Please-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, slut,” he repeated firmly, slapping your cheek lightly. “You don't speak again unless I speak to you first, got it?”

“Yes,” you sniffled, pouting and giving him doe eyes.

“Sit up.”

He helped you into a sitting position where your mouth came to level with his crotch. With a swift tug of his waistband, his semi-hardon stood inches from your face. Yunho removed his shirt, and you took in his lean form. Not as defined as the others, you still wanted to kiss and feel every inch of him. Yet, despite your clit pulsing from the sight, you pretended to push back and away from him. Shaking your head, you purse your lips as Yunho brought your head back into position. When you didn’t immediately open your mouth, Yunho pinched your nose and slapped his tip against your lips. The light tapping combined with the instinct to breathe caused you to gasp. A gasp that Yunho instantly snuffed out with his dick. Grasping your hair, he kept you in place while he smoothly went in and out of your mouth. You continued whimpering and trying to get away, but not too hard. Yunho’s pulsating cock slid over your tongue, and tempted you into touching yourself. You heard his haggard breathing getting heavier, moans starting to escape him as he stared down at you. Soon, Yunho was thrusting himself into your throat. Your humming vibrated around his tip, and he chuckled.

“That’s right,” he said through gritted teeth, “Hum around my cock. Go ahead. I know how much you like it.”

You gave a fake sob as he started gagging you. Each deep thrust ended with you gulping and gasping when he pulled off you. Thin streams connected your lips to his tip, and Yunho used this connection to smear himself on your chin and cheeks. Both hands on your head, Yunho forced you to the hilt and stayed there at least a few seconds at a time.

“Yunho, stop,” you coughed, “It…It hurts.”

“It doesn’t seem to hurt when Seonghwa does it,” he grunted, “So take it.”

You hadn’t said ‘buttercup’ again, so Yunho did not stop. Purposefully, you didn’t hollow in your cheeks to suck him. When he saw you simply keeping your mouth open he scoffed.

“No, no, no, suck it,” he ordered, pushing himself into your throat. When you didn’t suck, he poked his tip to your cheek and slapped it. “Suck it right, slut,” he slapped you again, the sting mixing with the ache in your throat. “Don’t act like you’ve never sucked dick before. Hollow out those cheeks and-Fuck, yes, like that.”

Whimpering, you started sucking him properly. This made him give your throat a break and focus on rubbing himself on your tongue and lips. You wriggled around on the bed as your own arousal started throbbing between your thighs. A bundle of his sheets against your sex tempted you into grinding against his mattress, eager for a form of relief. Yet, you knew you’re meant to not want this, so you kept yourself firmly planted on the bed. Yunho chuckled through a groan.

“Look at you,” he mocked, smacking your cheek again as he pushed against your inner cheek. “Filthy, dumb slut getting turned on by me using her mouth.” When you let out a muffled wail, he plunged deep into your throat again, “Don’t act like you don’t like it. It’s what you’re paid to do. I’m only taking what I pay good money for.”

He kept you planted there as he started fucking your mouth roughly. A slight pain burned in your throat after a while, making your eyes swim with tears that came down your cheeks. The cheap mascara and eyeliner you’d applied colored the tears with black, a look Yunho asked for specifically. Your clit throbbed while your walls clenched for something to grab onto; your nipples tingled and hardened from imaging his mouth and hands on them. Yunho, seeing your nipples erect, reached down for one as he continued abusing your mouth. Index and thumb fingers rolled it in between them, the twinge of pain adding to the burning pleasure. Sharp slaps to them every so often made you whine around the cock ravaging your mouth.

Without a word, he pulled you off him and pushed you back onto the pillows. “I know exactly what to do with these,” he huffed, reaching into a box beside the bed.

You laid there, coughing and clearing your aching throat, as he shifted through a selection of toys, unable to keep yourself from wriggling around underneath him. When he withdrew a chain of nipple clamps, you widened your eyes and shook your head. While the sight of them usually excited you, you pretended to fear it as you struggled to get away from Yunho. This only made him hook your bound wrists back to his headboard. Straddling your thighs, Yunho bent down and greedily sucked one of your nipples. He cupped and squeezed while teasing the sensitive peaks with his tongue.

“Yunho-ah,” you cried, sniffling and shaking your head, “Please, stop it.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, spanking one of your tits for emphasis.

“Yunho, please don’t put those. They hurt a lot-”

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck? Shut. Up. And. Take. It.”

His meanness only turned you on more. You watched him prepare you for the clamps and purposefully moved around to make your breasts jiggle. Yunho looked over at you for a moment. You saw him admiring your hands tied to the headboard, seeing the drool and tears left on your face. You pouted, giving him a pleading look that made his jaw drop. He wanted you to be pathetically helpless against his big, strong body. He wanted you pleading for mercy and saying ‘no’ until the very end. He bent down over you again, pecking your lips softly and nuzzling your nose gently. Neither of you said anything, but you still sniffled and whimpered as he went back to sucking and biting your nipples. You often tried keeping whichever breast he chose from his mouth before he grabbed them harshly and kept you in place. The clamps brought a never ending wave of pleasure that you forced yourself to restrain.

“Just as pretty as I thought,” he gave a self-satisfied smile as the chain pulled your nipples. He slapped the sides to see them bounce against his hands, “They’re prettier covered in loads of cum.”

“Yunho-”

He roughly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks to keep you quiet, “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? How many times do I have to say it?��

“Yunho,” you sobbed.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” he scoffed. Going back to the box, he took out a dildo-gag. Only a few inches, it wouldn’t go to your throat but it’d certainly keep you quiet. “Open up.”

You shook your head, rolling your lips closed.

“I said ‘open up’, slut.”

He pinched your nose again, and you tried holding your breath as long as possible until you gave in. The second your mouth opened, the gag went inside. He strapped it securely behind your head, enough to keep it from coming loose but not so tight it truly hurt you.

“There,” he said, “Maybe now you’ll finally shut up. You’re prettier when you’re not talking.”

The toy in your mouth caused saliva to build up around it, which you tried swallowing down to keep it from coming out. That didn’t prepare you for what he did next: Yunho went further down your body to your shorts. He roughly and hurriedly tugged them off you, and groaned at the sight of your wet panties. Your pussy ached when he heatedly tore them enough to reveal your sex and ass, the cheap fabric hanging by the elastic bands. When you tried closing your legs, he forced them back apart and sat between your thighs to keep you spread out. Your heart started racing in anticipation, sensing his hard cock close to your dripping sex, and expected him to go inside right away. But no. Yunho planned to drag this out.

Lifting your legs up by the ankles, he pressed your knees to your chest and swatted your bare pussy. The stinging pain added to the clamps on your nipples, and you thought you might cum if he continued spanking you. Yunho’s quick, hard slaps teased your exposed clit, the brief touch sliding across your pussy each time his hand came down. Seeing you trembling on the bed, Yunho stopped spanking and rubbed your sore lips gently.

“I know you’re not about to cum,” he said, a threat in his voice. “I know you’re not about to cum before me. I didn’t say anything about you getting to cum first.” He spit right on it, swirling it around slowly, “No, no, no. We’ve told you before that a proper slut would let us cum first. This is for my pleasure, not yours,” he slapped your pussy particularly hard to which you gave a muffled cry, “I don’t pay you to have orgasms. I pay you to give me orgasms.”

You attempted to plead, but your gag kept you quiet.

“What’s that?” he cocked his head to hear you, “You’re going to be a good toy and let me fuck you however I like? Hm, that’s good to know.” He laughed when you reverently shook your head, “Oh, you know you love it. Your pussy certainly loves it.”

He grabbed his dick and started tapping it against your pussy. The teasing motion stirred the pot boiling inside you. You could feel your orgasm slowly rolling to the front, about to explode right onto his wet tip until he’d stop. When you’d calm down, he’d go right back to teasing his length against your pussy. It became absolute torture. If you ever stopped being wet enough, he’d spit right where you both met to keep you slick enough for him. You took the moment to watch his body tense up at the flickers of pleasure grinding into you gave him. One hand gripping your thigh, the other made sure his dick moved exactly how he knew it’d weaken you. You saw the veins in his hands from the pressure, and wanted them inside you. You wanted them knuckle-deep, pushing in and out and wiggling deep within. His fingers always looked better around your throat or stuffed in your holes. But, he didn’t use his fingers. Not once.

When he finally did enter you, he gasped in surprise. “Oh no,” he said, smoothly gliding in and out of you, “Looks like I forgot a condom.”

Another thing you’d both discussed and cleared on before starting.

“No, don’t do that,” you tried saying through the gag. “Don’t cum in me.”

“Huh? What?” he cupped his ear, starting to rub your clit with his thumb so you mewled loudly. “You want me to cum in you?”

“No! Don't!”

“I bet you do,” he started pumping in and out of you faster, “I bet you love when Hongjoong fills you with cum every night. I’m surprised you’re not pregnant already with all the times he’s creamed your little pie.” He took hold of your thighs and kept them spread further apart. “But, don’t worry. I’ll cum in you,” he sneered, “Maybe I’ll leave you here and call the other members so they can fill up your pussy too. You’ll be so full of it, we’d have to take you to the clinic the next day,” he laughed.

The idea of him taking his own fantasy a step further had your thighs quaking in his grasp. Yunho kept the same steady pace throughout, only stopping when he sensed your orgasm drawing near again. A cocktail of pain and pleasure once again filled your insides, and you realized how much you enjoyed it. You liked mean Yunho. He exhibited a sadistic desire to bring you close to an orgasm, only to deny it to you at the last second. Your disappointed and frustrated whimpers delighted him, usually resulting in him taunting you as he pounded his hips into yours a few times. He meant it when he said he’d be merciless. He proved it when he flipped you onto your front, lifted your head up by your hair, and started pounding your pussy relentlessly. Any plea or cry you gave went unheard underneath the sounds of his skin slapping yours. When the bed banged against the wall, you thought that usual shyness might come out, but it only encouraged him further.

“Please, please, please,” you cried through your gag, tears watering your eyes again. “Please stop. It hurts so much.”

“Shut up,” he growled, tugging your hair and thrusting faster. “Shut up and take my cock.”

“Yunho-”

“I said ‘shut up’, bitch.” He pushed your face into the pillow, the dildo going further into your mouth and silencing you right away. “Fuck toys don’t talk.”

You sobbed into the pillow, your nose poking out enough for you to breathe. Your eyes rolled back right as his tip started pushing your g-spot. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge once more. You thought you’d go insane from the feeling alone. You felt nothing but the desperation growing inside you. The need to meet his hips with yours, the need to be clenching and squeezing him through an orgasm became far too deep. You lost all sense. The only thing you focused on was pretending to squirm out of Yunho’s strong grip.

What pushed you the closest was when Yunho’s moans became breathy and erratic. By his tightened grasp, his feverish thrusts and incoherent streams of curses, you knew he’d finish soon. You clenched him tightly, which made him quicken his pace. Soon, a distinct hot sensation spilled inside you and you almost came with him. Yunho continued going until he pumped every last drop inside you. Quivering, your body tensed up in effort to stay on the edge.

“Tak-Take it,” he groaned, huffing as he squeezed out a few more drops, “It’s the least you can do after…after rejecting me…”

The second he withdrew from you, you weakly scrambled away from him.

“And where do you think you’re going, huh?”

He roughly pulled you back into his grasp. Restricting your arms with one of his, he parted your legs with his knee and started rubbing your sex again. The tips of his fingers rapidly gliding over your clit had you trembling and clutching Yunho’s arms. Your body caved into itself, a burning tightness building the longer he kept you in his grasp. You tried closing your thighs together and moving from his hand, but he only forced them further apart and went faster.

“That’s it,” he said in your ear, still toying with your clit despite the sensitivity settling in, “Cum all over yourself like the pathetic slut you are. Go ahead. Do it.”

You shook your head as if keeping yourself from giving into his demands.

“You know you want to,” he said, stopping to bring your knee further up and then continuing, “You wanted to a little bit ago. Am I not good enough for you to cum for? Huh?”

You put your hands on his wrist, trying to move his hand away but not doing a good job of it. This time, he didn’t do anything else. He only rubbed; his fingers caused his warm cum to mix with your juices, getting the mess everywhere, but you didn’t care. You came in seconds. The blinding climax made every muscle in your body seize up, and you screamed around the dildo in your mouth. You could do nothing but lay there as Yunho teased an orgasm out of you. Being completely at his mercy, tied up and clamped, you laid there and came hard until the very end.

When you finally finished, you desperately chased whatever bit of air you could get through your nose. It wasn’t until Yunho undid the gag that you sucked in more air. Keeping you in his arms, Yunho carefully unbuckled his belt from your wrists and tenderly rubbed them for you. He peppered the side of your face with soft, brief kisses as he gingerly removed the clamps to rub your sore nipples. The two of you laid there in the afterglow of this new experience, content to listen to each other’s breathing gradually steady over time. You stayed still when he started wiping the mess from you with a wet cloth, drying it for you right after. A shower or bath would be for later. Neither of you felt up to it at the moment.

“Did you like it?” he asked in the silence, not having moved an inch away from you. “Was I too rough? Not rough enough? I didn’t want to overdo it with you.”

You shook your head, “I really liked it, actually.”

“You liked it, huh?” he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Even when I hit you?”

“Yes,” your cheeks grew warm from the confession. “I’ve never seen you that way before.” You turned over to face him, remaining in his arms still, “It really turned me on.” Talking made you realize your throat did itch slightly. You’d need some tea to soothe it at least.

“Oh?” he lifted your leg to his waist and put his arm around you, “Maybe I should be mean in bed more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” You then asked, “Was I…I don’t know how to say it…Fighting back enough? I didn’t want to make you think I really wasn’t into it, but I know you wanted me to kind of fight back.”

“You were perfect, babe. It was exactly like I imagined,” he insisted, kissing you softly. “Thank you,” he said, moving hair from your face, “For doing this with me. I thought it might scare you or you would see me differently when I asked you.”

“Never,” you assured him, clearing your throat. “I’ll admit I was surprised by it at first, but it was something new for us to explore.” You chuckled again, which bothered your throat, “But I did think you getting so into it was funny at first.”

“I wanted to do it right,” he laughed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” you coughed. “You wouldn’t have disappointed me. We would’ve just had normal sex or no sex or whatever we both felt like doing.”

“Oh, baby,” Yunho immediately perked up, “Your throat. It must hurt. Is it really bad? I shouldn’t have done it so much.”

“It itches a bit.”

“I’ll make you some tea then,” he peeled himself away from you and sat up. Ruffling his hair, he reached for his boxers on the floor and said, “And an ice pack too?”

“Yes, please.”

You knew once you really started moving around, you’d know which parts of your body will need to be iced. Yunho gently pecked your lips, then left the bedroom. Sinking further into his bed, you felt yourself drifting to sleep. The events you replayed in your head gave you chills. Nobody looking at Yunho would think he enjoyed such a taboo act; though, you’re not bothered by it at all. A part of you wondered if he'd do it again, since Yeosang won’t be home any time soon.

You’d definitely have no objections.

****

A/N: hey hey friends! Sorry this one took so long. Like with all my current wips, I've been having trouble sticking to one and finishing it. I hope this one makes up for it though! I have a Seonghwa one coming up soon too! always like and reblog, it keeps us going <3

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho jeong #ateez yunho #yunho ateez #ateex x reader #ot8 x reader #yunho x reader

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nsharks · 10 months

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important��"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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genshin-scenarios · 11 months

Text

android au - companions droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it is possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human! There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group.

They don’t produce more than a handful of copies of each model, meaning that each android is quite unique (with a matching price tag, too...)

The Anemo collection has companion androids who can pass off the easiest as people, each with their own notable personalities.

Characters: Xiao, Wanderer, Venti, Kazuha, Heizou

More like this: Anemo androids who lost their previous user

Leaning more towards a protective role, Xiao is an android targeted towards users living alone or often traveling around at night. He’s a relatively quiet companion, happy to just listen to your rambling while you walk on the streets—Xiao mostly asks questions at the start, about how you’re feeling, what else is on the schedule… He first tries to learn more about you, and figures things out from there.

It’s nice, but he’s not as expressive as others, so at some point you wondered if he was happy with your current arrangements. Xiao actually did start to open up more after you asked that. It’s gradual, but he starts telling you about the cats that approach him when he’s outside, and other things he notices might be to your interest.

You like teasing Xiao about the people that admire him from a distance (whether or not they could tell he was an android, it was undeniable that he was handsome). He’d simply huff and say they were probably looking at something else, humble as he was, before training his eyes back on you. ‘After all, I’m here for you. So even if those people did approach me, I’d have no reason to find an interest in them.’

You start to wonder if ‘boyfriend material’ was also part of Xiao’s profile, after you realized how much comfort you found in the ways he’d walk you home or shopped for groceries together. Cafe orders? Consider them memorized. No need to even ask him about accompanying you to places

You’re not sure if he’s aware of how much of a romantic he is, from the things he says to the way he acts. He’s definitely a source of comfort after a long, stressful day. Xiao responds to your energy levels quite effectively, and seeing as he’s not the type that has to fill in the air when no one is talking, spending time together in relaxed silence was a nice way to end the day.

As a model who was supposed to be part of an Inazuman security line, then pushed towards the Fatui collection before finally ending up as an Anemo droid… one could say that Wanderer’s specialty is a little unclear. It shows in his personality, too—a little blunt and snappy at times, but ultimately still protective of you and attentive of what’s going on around him.

In that sense, you could still see traces of some security-line functions in him despite his strong personality that could be hard to get along with. He seems more cynical about the producers that designed him more than anything else; he’s not effective enough at any particular skill to call it at specialization, instead being a jack of all trades who learns quickly. You call that a talent in itself. He says you’re giving them too much credit.

‘Did they run out of ideas or something?’ After living with you though, Wanderer’s cynicism doesn’t show itself as often. He starts to become more involved in the act of, well—actually being your companion, getting used to your routines and finding a place within it.

If he had one pet peeve though, you’d say it was whenever you got sick or injured. He would get the most annoyed (worried) when that happened, reminding you that while he couldn’t get hurt physically, that didn’t mean it was the same for you.

He masks these otherwise caring sentiments under insults though, so you suppose that Wanderer really was good for people that needed to push back against life more, making sure your spark is still there. He prefers it when you’re expressing yourself. You’re not a ‘doll’ after all, and who was he going to gossip about you to? The electronics in your home?

If there was one thing about Wanderer, it’s how he’d never turn on you. …Well, and he does ask for the same. Don’t go searching for new androids when you already have him, alright?

If you ever needed a presence to brighten your days, Venti is always up to the task. Not to mention he’s quite good for users with trouble sleeping. With a musical inclination like his and such a wonderful voice, you’ll surely doze away with sweet dreams.

He’s not the best at household chores, so for the most part Venti’s there for the companion part of the deal. He’s wonderful on shopping trips and mingling with strangers, even befriending people on his own if you were busy with something else. He likes meeting all sorts of people, though behind his friendly smile is always the security measure of how much they’d be a compliment or threat to you—if someone gave off the wrong vibes, Venti had enough of a silver tongue to redirect them somewhere else.

In another life, you’re quite sure Venti would’ve been an idol android. He particularly likes to write stories and poems, some of which are inspired by the things that happen in your everyday lives. Part of it is also because it’s a nice collection to have on the side, so that if anything happened and he wasn’t there, you could always hear his voice in those notes and feel his presence with you.

…Not that Venti had any plans of going independent anytime soon. He absolutely adores having your attention and hanging off of you, showing off how close you are to people (and also how cute he is, when he dresses up). He likes pulling compliments from you in particular, seeing how your eyes light up when he enters the room. You’re someone that he’s genuinely interested in and admires; from the way you push on despite the circumstances to the little efforts you put in that you think no one notices, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Venti was a fan of yours as much as you were his.

So… if it’s not too much to ask, please keep looking at him, alright? Even at times you’re too tired to smile, he can do the heavy lifting for you.

With a soft and considerate personality, Kazuha is naturally popular with those that like how approachable he is. He listens to your worries and enjoys going out to places to sightsee. Sometimes Kazuha finds hidden gems around the area and surprises you by bringing you there.

To call him an ‘explorer’ might be the most accurate—his favorite thing is seeing your eyes light up in wonder at whatever new experiences he can find. He’s most fascinated by nature, so going to parks or any scenic place would definitely catch his interest (and maybe he’ll write a few poems about it too).

He’s a great traveling companion, considering how adaptable he is and the um, protective measures that are in his system. Most androids have this too of course, but you’ll never forget the time Kazuha had a thief in a headlock after they’d tried to steal something from an old lady on the street. It might’ve been one of the few times you saw Kazuha so intimidating (and dare you say it, it was kind of cool).

When you’re tired from work and just want to sleep in during the weekends, you’ll wake up to Kazuha’s cooking. He claims it was just a nice morning, so he went out to buy some groceries and made something simple. He’s not the most advanced cook, but Kazuha’s meals always have a homey feel to them, with light flavors that won’t be too rough on your stomach if you weren’t feeling well.

The one time you let Kazuha borrow your motorcycle… Well, let’s just say that you never took him for someone that liked thrill-rides until that day. He’s always careful not to get your vehicle damaged, and if you were with him he’d of course refrain from going fast—but you’ve seen the smile on Kazuha’s face when the wind was rushing past him. It made you want to go on trips more often, now that Kazuha was there to keep you company. His presence is something that helps you recharge when you’re emotionally exhausted from everyday things.

Heizou’s also a protection-type android! However his charming personality means that most people wouldn’t suspect a thing, making it easier for him to mingle with people without seeming intimidating. His pet peeve would be conniving people trying to get close to you with a smile on their face, though he’s a little meaner than Venti in terms of driving them away from you, hidden beneath his own charismatic smile.

Naturally, Heizou really enjoys mysteries and detective genres! Once he planned out a whole mystery for you and led you through the clues he carefully prepared. It was probably during one of those days where you finally had a week off and just wanted to relax, so Heizou made a stay-at-home activity out of it. Suffice to say it was probably one of the most fun you’ve had in a while, laughing and thoroughly engrossed in the storyline.

Another time, you were attending a festival of some sort and got lost in the crowd. It was stressful to say the least and your phone was out of battery. You think your heart skipped a beat for more than one reason when Heizou finally found you, giving you a reassuring smile; ‘I’d never let you go missing like that. Have more faith in my detective skills!’

He’s helpful by nature, and that extends to strangers that may need advice or assistance at some point in passing, so long as it didn’t hinder anything to do with you. As a result Heizou has done a number of random tasks and even given romantic advice (via an art of deduction, of course), and it’s gotten him quite a number of confessions from both girls and guys. It’s normal to admire a personality like his, and Heizou is always flattered but kindly rejects them.

The next day, while you’re working on your laptop, he peeks over your shoulder with as casual of a tone he can muster, asking how you would confess to someone you like. From the smile on his face, it seems that Heizou wasn’t planning to keep his intentions a mystery for very long. (No one can blame him, though. He has to make a move before you’re snatched away!)

#xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #venti x reader #kazuha x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact venti #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin writing #genshin imagines #traveler wishes

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eetherealgoddess · 5 months

Note

hellooo, welcome backkk!!! I FUCKING MISSED YOU LIKE SOOO MUCHHHHH. Girl, I thought you left tumblr because honestly the majority of the best writers I also know left:( You're my fav writer so I was really sad AND GIRL WHEN I SAW!! WHEN I SAW THAT YOU WERE ACTIVE 3 HOURS AGO??? MAN I CREAMED. I CAME. I ORGASMED-

I also have a request!! Do you write incest? It includes it, but ofc if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore mee~ it can be stepcest or ykkk anything you're comfortable with!! the story goes with mikey's cute little sister that's rebellious (both him and the reader ain't in good terms ever since the whole bonten happened)emo mikey finally snapped and decided to punish her when she did something VEEERRYYY unforgivable. He and his men (bonten) brutally like bruuutallly punished her. it can be smut or anything you want. whatever it is I'LL EAT IT UP MHMMMM SCRUM DILLY YUM YUM MY PUR PUR POOKIE WOOKIEEEEEEE

I appreciate the love and support!! ts had me dying LMAO

i do not write biologically related incest nor half siblings but i’m fine with writing stepcest (depending on the plot) and like a foster or adoption situation (all 18+)

i kinda sort of followed the timeline so there might be scenes that are not accurate to the manga/anime, tho i did it that way to fit it in better with the plot so the scenes aren’t as long <3

ALSOOOO!!! i could’ve made this waayyy more brutal but when i was imagining different scenarios i literally made myself sick 💀💀💀

ꨄRebelꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦Was it worth it?❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

(Mostly Mikey, Kazu, and Sanzu x Reader but read to catch the vibes :)

❣︎All of Bonten are included in this story except Mochi❣︎

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Rebel

You were never one to follow rules blindly. You always questioned what you were told no matter who fed the information. How could you not when you spend most of your childhood shipped from family to family like a worn out package that's been sent to the wrong destination repeatedly? It wasn’t until you aged eight years that you were finally adopted by a man who asked you to call him ‘Grandpa Sano.’

You were unprepared for the generosity you received from the Sanos, having been in situations where your foster family wanted nothing to do with you. Your negative experiences caused you to form a barrier, an outer shell that shields you from the vulnerability your brain wanted to protect you from. You were cautious, unknown as to why you were chosen. When you first arrived, you were greeted by the oldest sibling, Shinichiro. He was kind, sort of silly as he displayed his quirkiness whenever you would spend quality time together after you had grown to see him as a proper big brother.

Emma beamed when she saw you, excited that another girl would finally be around to become her companion in a house full of boys. When you were comfortable, you gained a sense of sisterhood you never thought you’d have the privilege to experience. The last Sano you had met was none other than Sano Manjiro, otherwise known as Mikey. The first contact was interesting as you both gave blank expressions to one another. After growing alongside the boy, you could tell the kid had a sense of cockiness, though rightfully so as you learn about his incredible strength.

Watching Mikey and Baji fight when they would practice their skills made you want to become as strong as them. You would observe their moves every chance you got, failing in your attempts until you would eventually succeed, resulting in you declaring a battle against Mikey. The boy gazed at your stern appearance before releasing a light hearted laugh. You didn’t dislike him, in fact you both grew closer as time went on. If anything, you were inspired by him, even if you came off as a bratty little sister who wanted to follow him around with all his friends.

Even at a young age you could tell that he would grow to be a good person. You felt safe in his presence, knowing that he counted you as family. Knowing that he grew to love you as well as you to the Sano family. You knew that Mikey would never hurt anyone, his soul radiating a warmth you have never seen before. That is, until the day came where all you heard was Baji’s begging for Mikey to stop as you watch in horror, the blood seeping from the corners of another one of his childhood friends, Haruchiyo’s mouth.

Your hands trembled as you eye the onyx orbs that bore into the boy on his knees, a cold expression laced with nothing but a shadow of darkness. Your own eyebrows were furrowed as tears streamed down your face while you switched gazes between the two boys.

“M-Mikey…” You whispered, listening to Senju as she cried in the background. He either didn’t hear you or ignored you. Whichever was the case didn’t matter as you heard him finally speak.

“Smile, Haruchiyo.”

His voice was deep, almost as if it wasn’t his own. You covered your own mouth as Haru began laughing hysterically as his tears mixed with the blood. You knew at that moment that something had switched. You didn’t know what exactly the change was, but you knew that absolutely nothing would feel the same.

Time passed as you all hit your pre - teen years and Mikey had formed his own gang, Toman. It was early in the making though you thought it was the coolest thing. You had let go of the negative image your mind had formed when the incident with Haruchiyo happened after Mikey had given a heartfelt apology to everyone, including the boy in the hospital bed. When you visited Haruchiyo, the young boy had confirmed his forgiveness and encouraged you to give Mikey some leeway. He was once again your inspiration as you reasoned with yourself that he just had a ‘moment.’

Everything was going normally for a while, Shinichiro teaching you how to ride a motorbike as well as Mikey allowing you to hang out with him and his friends occasionally. Kazutora and Baji pulled you along to search for a gift considering Mikey’s birthday is coming up. Having had a small crush on Kazutora for a while, you followed them, sitting behind the tiger tattooed boy with your arms wrapped around his waist.

It wasn’t until the mischievous delinquent explained his plan, in which you and Baji reacted with hesitation. He waved off your worries and claimed that the best way to obtain Mikey’s gift would be to steal from the store that holds his most ideal bike. When you arrived, you couldn’t shake the familiarity. It’s as if you have seen this place before but you don’t remember stepping foot into a bike shop ever in your life. As you stand to the side while Baji tries to move the bike, a presence causes you both to look up.

“Who’s shop do you think you’re breaking into…?”

“Y/n?” Your eyes widen at Shinichiro as the realization hits you.

Although you’ve lived with the Sanos for a few years now, you’ve never once stepped foot into Shinichiro’s bike shop. You’ve only come across pictures which is why there is familiarity. It completely slipped your mind that Shinichiro owns a place that just so happened to be this one.

“Shini… I…” He turned his head to meet his orbs with Baji’s.

“You look familiar, are you Keisuke?” Baji stutters as he attempts to respond. Just as he said his name, you both gasp as you watch Kazutora come from behind with a large tool, raising his arms before slamming them down. A resounding crack echoed througout the room as the weapon made contact with Shinichiro’s head.

Your breath hitched as you watched his body fall to the ground, landing with a thud. The same trembling you felt from your hands when you watched Mikey tear Haruchiyo’s face appeared as you stared down at Shinichiro’s lifeless body, the blood seeping under his head as it stained the floor. Baji drops to his knees as he hovers above the corpse, explaining to Kazutora who the victim was. The golden eyed boy could only respond by hyperventilating.

“What do we do? What do we do?” Baji croaks out, hand meeting his forehead as Kazutora’s fingers reach his own mouth, biting them as he stares in place with wide eyes.

“I didn’t do it… I didn’t kill him.” His voice trembled. You watch in fear as you eye the hysterical boys, falling to your own knees before sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your knees as you whimper before the tears stream freely. Your bottom lip quivers as you gaze at your oldest brother’s form. You couldn’t help but take part of the blame considering you are a witness that could’ve done something to stop this madness before it occurred.

You listen to Kazutora’s ramblings as Baji attempts to call an ambulance. It was horrific to see them so distressed, a feeling of impending doom coming on as you realize there’s no coming back from this. Your mind ran through different scenarios on what would happen once the Sano family found out about everything.

“Let’s get outta here!” Baji says to you both though you couldn’t move, watching as Kazutora seems to lose his mind by the second.

“It’s all… Mikey’s fault.” Your eyes widen as you gaze at him with concern. “I need to kill Mikey.” He claimed with a distorted smile, tears threatening to fall. You could only stare in disbelief as the cops were heard outside the building.

When you all walked out, everyone except you binded, a head of blonde hair appeared in front of you with a surprised expression.

You watched as Mikey questioned Baji, in which he cried out an apology as Kazutora chants “Kill… kill…”

You were there for it all. You were there when Kazutora spent two years in juvenile, only to come back with a vengeance. You were there when Kisaki became involved as well as this random Takemichi kid who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. You were there for Valhalla's battle, witnessing Baji’s death as you held his head on your lap before Kazutora was arrested once more. You were there for the Christmas battle. You were there for the Tenjiku battle and you were there when Mikey disbanded Toman before he disappeared, followed by a few other people you had met.

There was even a time in your early adulthood when you went to visit Kazutora in jail only to find out he had been released a few years earlier than the ten years he was sentenced, seeming to have disappeared along with Sanzu and Mikey. For a while you blame yourself for not keeping in touch when everyone was initially ghosted by your brother. You wanted to give him the space you knew he needed considering he hadn’t been the same since you had first met.

Finally exhausted with your passive ways you decided to seek him out, figuring that you might be able to track the other members that disappeared as well. Although you kept in touch with Emma, Draken, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, and etc., you couldn’t ignore the yearning you felt to find your brother and friends. You missed them dearly. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to have known anything until you repeatedly bothered the dragon tattooed man to tell you the truth about Mikey’s whereabouts.

“Now that I’ve told you, forget about Mikey. Forget about the rest of em. It’s too dangerous, Y/n.”

Knowing that Draken is right, you listen. For a while you stopped your search and continued to live your life, working a 9 to 5 and coming home to your decent sized apartment. It wasn’t until you received a letter signed by the person you had been searching for. Once you reach the day that he wrote in the letter, you rush to meet him at the destination, speeding down the streets on your motorcycle.

Reaching the place, you eye the closed nightclub in awe. You wondered why he decided to meet you at this particular setting. You felt a rush of anxiety as you near the door, opening it before walking into the empty space. You walk through the dark room using the flash on your phone as you walk to the staircase, following Mikey’s instructions.

When you reach upstairs, you walk into the door he ordered. Your footsteps echo through the dark room, the sun outside illuminating through the open windows as a breeze flies across the room. Your eyes meet a head of platinum hair, indicating the back of someone’s head. The male who wears a black long sleeve shirt and pants sits with his back bent forward, arms on his lap as his head hangs low. The symbol on his neck stood out to you, reminding you of Izana’s earrings. Your eyes widen when realization finally clicks.

“Mikey?” You say, gaining momentum as you rush over to your brother. Before you could make it, a grip on your arm causes you to halt, as well as a firm pressure against the back of your head. You stare ahead as your breath hitches.

“Move at my pace.” The voice behind you demands. Having no other choice but to listen or risk an early death, you ignore your accelerated heart beat and follow alongside the body that shifted slightly to the side of you. Your eyes switch from the short man ahead to the person beside you, immediately catching the scar on the corner of the person’s mouth.

Sharp blue eyes suddenly meet yours during the observation, pink bangs swaying as his head faces you. His lips curve into a toothy smirk, eyebrows furrowing as he gives you a mischievous expression.

“T’s been a while, Y/n.” You turn away from him as you both walk closer to Mikey.

“I guess long enough to where you feel the need to have a gun against my head. As if we never knew each other.” You respond, irritation adding to your fear as you’re led to the chair in front of Mikey.

He only ignored you as his grin grew wider, guiding you to sit facing away from your brother. When your bottom meets the seat, Sanzu stood next to you with the barrel of the gun placed to your temple.

“Leave us, Sanzu.”

“Got it.” He responds before dropping his arm and walking towards the exit. “I’ll be downstairs.”

After giving you one more side glance, the pink haired man closed the door behind him as he walked out of the room.

“I heard you wanted to find me.” He says softly. Your fingers fidget in your lap as your knees are pressed together, feet spread apart. You chew on your bottom lip as you sit with a tense body, realizing the gravity of your situation and how dangerous it was to meet him with no sort of back up.

“This isn’t you. This isn’t how it was supposed to be…” You begin, shaking your head as you continue, “…I get it, Mikey. Everything that happened hurt like hell. Just because you went through something doesn’t mean you become the leader to a fucking criminal organization and kill lots of innocent people.”

When he didn’t respond, all you heard was your own breathing as you fought the tears that threatened to escape.

“You act like you’re the only one that went through anything. As if I wasn’t there experiencing as much pain as you! I didn’t run off and disappear and cause more harm to the streets, because there just wasn’t enough blood splattered!”

You had the understanding that you could be digging your own grave. The sorrow and anger hitting you all at once had your words slipping out fast. You missed him, who he was before. How could he have abandoned you like that?

“Y-you could’ve come to me. We could’ve been there and experienced it all together, Mikey. I-I know you’re just in pain, but I’m here. I’ve always been there.” You say the last sentence softly as your vision blurred from the moisture.

You listened as you heard rustling behind you, followed by footsteps leading towards your sitting figure. Your sobs went silent as a figure shadowed over you. The cold impact of the gun against your head causes goosebumps to run across your arms, a chill running up your back as you make eye contact with the man holding a weapon against your forehead.

Anyone could lose themselves in the void of his orbs. They bore into you coldly as he gazed down at you with a blank yet intense expression. Your bottom lip quivered as your eyebrows furrow angrily. His arm follows as you stand from your seat slowly.

“Is this all you know how to do now?” You almost growl, exhausted by the behavior your brother displays when you know he clearly has a hard time communicating his emotions. “Shoot whoever questions you. Murder instead of speaking on how you feel. When are you gonna grow up, Mikey?”

“Shut up.” He hissed. “You know nothing.” You only stare back in response, glaring at him as the gun cocks.

“Leave.” He states before lowering his arm. You watch the male as he makes his way to the exit. Before he walks out of the opened door, he turns his head to the side slightly, gaze still ahead.

“If we ever see each other again… I’ll kill you.” You chew the skin on the inside of your cheek as a nervous habit when he walks out, leaving you to allow the words to sink in.

In that moment, you determined that you would find a way to bring back the real Mikey. You couldn’t accept this. You would never accept this reality. You would do whatever it takes, even if that means going against your better judgment and acting on emotion, something you had a habit of doing. You don’t care what Mikey says nor have you ever listened when he told you not to do something. You don’t care that you’re risking your life by getting involved. You snatch the phone from your pocket before dialing a number.

“Naoto, I need your help.”

You didn’t know what to expect but it surely wasn’t almost succeeding in the take down of Bonten. Unfortunately, both you and Naoto missed a key detail to your plans which resulted in Bonten being free of the attention from the police. It didn’t help that some of the government officials involved were traitors to the force, having helped the criminal organization in secret.

Thick smoke polluted the building as a radiating heat caused you to sweat. You cough as your arm covers your mouth and nose, eyes squint as you see through the burning room. The alarms screeched as a warning to anyone near that a fire had been started. You heard the impact of whatever caused the flames, knowing a bomb had been planted somewhere inside which caused an explosion. You’re surprised that you’re still alive, along with some of the others who crawl and struggle towards the nearest exit, maneuvering through the limp bodies lying on the ground.

You search for your partner as you walk past broken furniture and office equipment, passing the body parts separated from the corpses who suffered the worst from the eruption. Unfortunately, you were hurt considering your limp, and the ringing in your ears definitely didn’t help. Your hearing has been out since you woke up. You search the police department, watching out for anyone familiar as you yell out, “Naoto!”

You continue through the damage, dodging any object that falls as you walk around the flames. An abrupt pressure on your back caused you to fall to the ground with a grunt, your hearing coming back just as you made impact with the floor. The platform of the bottom of someone’s shoe pushes you back to the ground when you try to pick yourself up.

The man behind you grabs a carton from out of his pocket, lifting the top before pulling a cigarette out. He set the box back in his suit’s jacket pocket before using a nearby flame to light it as he stretched his arm out. He brought the butt of the stick to his lips and sucked in as the remaining flame went out on the end of the cigarette. The man rubs the sweat off of his forehead using the sleeve of his suit, a strand of blonde hair swaying over his face as he drops the arm. He blew the smoke out as he gazed at your figure.

“I warned him about letting you go.” You could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Kazutora?” He takes another hit of his cigarette, holding his breath as he ashed it before blowing the smoke out of his mouth once more. A smirk grew on his face.

“You know, Y/n… I never took you for a snitch.”

“I never took you as a coward, but here we are. You kill people to feel a sense of control yet you’re always following someone else’s orders, seeking approval by anyone who’ll give it to you.” You state, irritated by the heat and the foot on your back.

The grin on his lips fell as he took another hit before leaning over and pressing the burning end of the cigarette against your neck. You gasp before releasing a shriek of pain, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. He holds it there for a moment as he stares down at you with a blank expression. He lifts himself back to a normal position once he removes the cigarette from your skin. A fresh bruise formed in the abused spot.

“Why did you guys become such fucking assholes?” You cry out.

“Come on, don’t start crying on me now Doll…” He chuckled, “…gotta save that for later when Mikey gets his hands on you.”

Before you could fight him off, his fingers squeezed firm against your pressure point. Your vision blurs before your head drops as you sink into darkness.

Your eyes flutter open as a spotlight shines on you. Attempting to lick your lips, you find yourself with a gag secured around your mouth. The red ball stretches your lips uncomfortably as they yearn to be moisturized. Your arms are cuffed above your head as your body is spread out completely nude on the bed. Your shrieks are muffled as the light dims, your knees pressed together as you attempt to cover yourself when you look down and eye the seven figures sitting out on a slightly lower platform, as if you’re on a small stage.

Marijuana and alcohol fills the air, along with the smell of tobacco as you watch the smoke fumes form above a few of the men. Your eyebrows furrow as your toes curl, embarrassment causing a warm face as you shut your eyes tightly, wishing to escape this moment as you’re sprawled out for a bunch of dangerous men. You hear footsteps in the quiet room, someone walking towards the bed.

Mikey appears in your vision as he looks down at you from the side. Your eyes water as you glare at him, disbelief from the fact that your own brother set you up like this. The boy you grew up with who inspired you to go past your own limits. The boy who wanted to make a new era for delinquents. No, you couldn’t believe this.

His fingers slowly traced over your stomach as they moved towards your chest, grazing around the outlining of your breasts. You couldn’t help the whimper of desperation spilling out through the gag, your body beginning to tremble as you realized the gravity of this vulnerable situation. You wanted this to stop. You wanted it all to stop before there’s no return.

“I left you alone…” His fingers dragged themselves across the middle of your breasts, slow and delicate with his touch. “…I warned you, Y/n.”

He slightly leans over as his hand moves to your lower stomach, rubbing the lining nearest to your pubis. Your breath hitched as you gaze at him with wide teary eyes.

“You’ve never been one to listen, have you?” The small smile that formed as he said the statement vanished as quickly as it came. Your stomach sucked in as he used his fingers to lightly glide back up to your chest before circling his hand around your neck, his index finger tapping your face twice. He leaned forward until he hovered right over your face.

“You’ll learn.” You release a shriek as your eyes shut tight, his fingers digging into the burnt skin against your neck, adding a painful pressure to the wound as the tears streamed down your face. When you open your eyes to a squint, his gaze is relaxed. His eyes made him look dead. He released you before walking to the end of the stage and turning to face the crowd, his hands behind his back.

“From now on you belong to me.” He turns his upper body to face you. “You’ll only get to eat, sleep, and breathe because of me. You will do as I say.” A taller figure began to walk on the stage, a familiar pair of purple eyes gazing down at your figure with his signature sly smile. The tall short haired man held a baton that rests on his shoulder as he stops next to the bed, closer to your lower body.

“You deemed yourself a traitor so you will be held accountable. Sister or not.”

You fidget with discomfort as you eye the weapon Ran holds with a concerned expression. He only gives you a mischievous smile in return as he drops his arm, awaiting instructions from his boss.

“If you disobey me…” His eyes switch to Ran before the taller man brings his other hand to the object, fingers adjusting as he lifts his arms. Your eyes widen once more as you hysterically pull against your restraints, legs moving as you attempt to move your body to the side to no avail.

You release a blood curdling scream as your eyes shut tight, the impact causing a loud smack to echo in the room as the end of the baton makes contact with the skin on your thigh. The pain is broad, big. So intense that your whole leg numbs out as your body attempts to protect you. Blood immediately makes its way through your skin as an ugly bruise begins formation. You sob in agony as your head falls back on the bed. You shake your head as you bite the gag.

A cold chill is brought to your body as heat overcomes you, sweat dripping down your forehead as Mikey walks closer to you, staring down at you with the same blank expression. Sanzu watches the display with gleaming eyes, a wide smile on his face as he licks his bottom lip, biting it after as he’s mesmerized by the show in front of him. It was a gorgeous sight, you sprawled out on the bed naked in front of them under Mikey’s control. Your face is so wet with tears and an expression of fear and distress. So vulnerable and fragile. Your skin breaking with ease as the blood dripping down made him want to lick it up. He couldn’t wait to get a hold of you. After all, he’s waited for so long under Mikey’s command. His failed attempt at protecting you. Someone so resilient and yet so weak.

Kazutora is leaned back in his seat with a leg crossed over, his hair pulled back in a messy ponytail as he eyes you with no emotion. He ignored the erection forming in his pants as you’re forced into submission, bound by the cuffs as your beautiful voice blesses the room with your cries. A red hue forms on his face as he watches Ran hit you again in a different spot on the same thigh. His cock twitched when he heard your loud scream, the gag doing you no justice. He crossed his arms as he shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position.

Takeomi sat with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he glared at the scene. He never really knew you so he couldn’t care less of your position. He just finds it hilarious to watch the rest of the men simp over Mikey’s infamous cute, bratty little sister. He’s surprised you hadn’t been killed on the spot for becoming a traitor. The leeway his boss is giving you is impeccable. Otherwise you’d be torn apart limb from limb, slaughtered and violated from the inside out. Long gone. This is nothing. He’ll admit that seeing your bitchy ass getting it in is a very sweet sight to see.

Kokonoi sighed as he turned away from the scene. Having remembered you from their delinquent days made this situation all the more sickening. He still couldn’t deny the view of you laid out the way you are having an effect on the cock sitting in his pants. It was uncomfortable, especially since he deems himself as sick as someone like Sanzu or the Haitani brothers for getting turned on by this in the first place.

Kakucho’s eyes followed Ran’s fingers, swiping some of the blood off of your leg before bringing it to his lips. You lay there, sobbing as Mikey caressed both sides of your face. He knew something like this would occur as soon as he began gaining information from the dirty cops about you involving yourself. Although he felt bad for you, he knew that you had it coming. You were warned and now you must deal with the consequences. He palmed himself before squeezing slightly to ease himself as he shifts in his seat, rock hard as he chews on his lip.

“Should I hit the other thigh, boss?” Ran’s smooth voice filled the room as he gently rubbed his thumb along the untouched thigh. You shook your head as you pleaded through the ball gag. You were so focused on switching your gaze between Mikey and Ran that you completely missed the third presence making his way to the foot of the bed.

Drool accidentally fell out of your mouth as you continued to cry and beg for Mikey to let you go and to not hurt you again. It was humiliating but you were in too much pain to care. You had to get out of there. You regret not listening. You regret not leaving him alone. You just want to escape. You just want to go home and hug yourself while you cry. You wanted to see your friends again, your sister Emma. You missed Shinichiro, Baji, your grandpa, Draken, Mitsuya, and everyone else. You missed them all and you wanted a big hug from them.

You wanted to feel safe, to feel loved again. You didn’t like this cold darkness that’s dragging you to a hell you never thought you’d experience. You wish you hadn’t been so stubborn. You just missed your brother, your friends who disappeared. Thumbs drape under your eyes as the tears are wiped away only for more to stream down your cheeks. You feel the ball gag unhook around your mouth as your chapped lips connect, licking them desperately as you continue to sob and pant.

“P-please let me go! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Mikey I-I’ll listen! I’ll leave you alone just please…!” You rambled your apologies as he continued to gaze at you with the onyx orbs that felt as though they were forcing you to drown in his own darkness. Dragging you under with him into the void everyone so desperately tries to fill or escape from.

“I-I just wanted my big brother! I-I needed you to be who you were! I was wrong…” You sob, “…so fucking wrong. You’re too far gone!” Your hands turned to fists as your breath hitched as he climbed on top of you.

“You’re right. I am no longer your Mikey.”

Your hands tremble as you watch him reach into his pants to pull out his throbbing cock.

“No… no, no, no! Y-you can’t!” You plead as you realize what’s about to happen.

The younger Haitani grabs your ankle as he picks your leg up, along with the older brother who holds up your bruised leg. Mikey adjusts himself in between your legs as he spreads his own knees against the mattress.

“M-Mikey this is so fucked up! P-please! You fucking asshole!” You could only feel rage and despair as you watched him spit in his hand and rub his cock, moisturizing it nowhere near enough for it to easily slip through you.

“Oh shit.” Sanzu breathes out in excitement as the rest of the executives mentally sit on the edge of their seats. They watched the display, some with arousal and excitement while others with slight guilt and arousal. The air was thick in the room as Rin’s grip tightened on your ankle while moving his other hand to the bottom of your foot.

“You’ll learn.” Mikey whispers near your ear before he finally pushes in slowly. Your head falls back with your mouth wide open, nails digging in your own palms as the girth stretches you painfully. Your eyebrows furrow as you clench your teeth. He released a breathy moan as his mouth hangs open, head falling to your shoulder as your pussy squeezed him tightly. You both grunt when he finally bottoms out, base and testicles pressed firmly against you as he shifts his arms under you to hold the back of your neck with both hands.

He eyed the girl with a blank expression as she stood with her hand wrapped in Grandpa Sano’s. Even at his young age he could tell that she had been through quite a lot by the look in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He says as he pats your eight year old head. You sat with tears streaming down your face with your arms crossed as you pouted angrily at the fact that you lost against your fight with Baji who would help you practice your skills along with Mikey.

“You’ll learn.” He said with a smile as he gazed down at you.

You gasp as you feel his thick length pulling out of you, rubbing against the lining of your walls before he bucks his hips against you with a firmer thrust causing you to grunt in pain.

“You belong to me.” The teen growled.

“Kazutora is my friend! I’m gonna visit him whether you like it or not.” You glare at your brother before stomping away from the shrine.

Truth be told he didn’t like the way you made him feel. So out of control. So out of the loop. He knows that he’s your inspiration. He loves how worthy you deem him to be. He loves that you follow him around all the time like you're his little companion. His little sister. His.

If only you knew how hard it was to allow you on your own. To allow you to make your own decisions. To have abandoned you when he knew you were still vulnerable from everything you both went through. You don’t know how hard it is being the big brother of someone who’s just so fucking stubborn. He was afraid that he would lose you in the midst of his corruption, the dark impulse taking over day by day, so he left you.

“Fuck.” He breathes out as his pace accelerates, hips pulled back before thrusting against you as his grip tightens. His cock slides in and out of your pussy as the juice slickens the erection, making it easier to access as he presses deeper and deeper. The bed rocks as the thrusts become faster and firmer, the smacking echoing throughout the room as it becomes harder to hold back your grunts and moans.

You whimpered as you felt a pressure form against the ankle held by Rin. You make eye contact with him as his lips curl into a mischievous smile. You felt goosebumps form as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered, an impending sense of doom coming over you just as Mikey’s cock aimed for your erogenous zone, pounding your g-spot once you reacted with a shriek.

Mikey walks to the car sitting outside the club he had you meet him at after your conversation was finished. Five of his executives stood outside as he turned his attention to Kakucho.

“Watch her every move.”

He had a feeling you’d try something though he didn’t expect for you to involve the cops. Especially the detective that’s always on his ass.

“You. *Thrust* Belong. *Thrust* To me.” Mikey uses a hand to squeeze your chin, forcing your eyes to meet as you pant and sob.

All of the executives watch with dazed expressions as Mikey bitched you out. Some biting their own lips while others palmed their covered erections. Mikey eyed your face as it morphed while the pit in your stomach builds, indicating the nearing of your orgasm. He used one hand to balance himself against the headboard as he grabbed the leg Ran was holding to gain better access. He thrusts against you as his cock rubbed the inner lining of your vaginal walls, slick oozing out of your hole, a mixture of his semen and your juices forming.

The pain in your leg throbs as he pushes your leg up, causing you to whimper. You tried to hold in your moans, the feeling of the head of his cock hitting your cervix was overwhelming. Instead, grunts replaced the moans with each firm thrust against your ass. The hand on your leg tightens as you watch his eyes narrow down at you with his lips apart.

“This pussy is mine. Your cum is mine. Everything about you…” a thrust with a loud smack against your ass caused a moan to slip through his throat. “…is mine.”

Your head is pressed against the mattress as you feel the pit in your stomach release, the chemical reaction causing your mouth to open as a silent scream leaves your throat, eyes rolled back as he continues to beat into your pussy.

“Ah…” Mikey breathes, “…that’s fucking right, cum on this cock.” He said before using his fingers to press onto your wound made by the baton. You scream out in agony. The chains jingle as you pull against the restraints.

“You’ll learn. You’re gonna learn to listen to me.” He breathes out before switching his eyes to Rin.

“M-Mikey pl-!” You whimper, pleading for him to stop as you’re overstimulated, though his cock keeps its pace, assaulting your pussy as it slides through harder. Blood runs down your wrists, coming from the split skin caused by your nails. You accidentally glance at Ran who stares down at you hungrily. You could see the lust in his intense gaze, causing you to turn away.

“I don’t care how close you were or even the little crush you have on her. You will ask before touching her, got it?”

“Yes, boss.” Both Kazutora and Sanzu respond with stern expressions.

“N-No! What are you…?!” A loud crack fills the air amongst the sound of the rocking bed as your eyes shut tight, a monstrous scream escaped your lips as the pressure on your ankle created a numbing yet sharp pain that swam up your leg to your knee. You shakily look down to see your limp leg in Rin’s hand, ankle bent out of place as your foot hangs there. A swelling started to form as the skin tingled. It was surely broken.

“GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF OF ME RIGHT NOW!” You’re hysterical. The pain, overstimulation, and heat. The betrayal, sickness, and depression. The sorrow, despair, and downright filthy situation. All of the eyes on you. It was all just too much.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!” His forehead meets yours as his hands grab the sides of your face. His eyes shut as he thrusts hard, accelerating his speed before a breathy, drawn out moan escapes his mouth, just as Rin grabbed your other ankle.

Kazutora and Sanzu sit with discomfort as they angrily eye the Haitani brothers, realizing it should’ve been them holding your legs and punishing you. After all, they’ve known you the longest. They were closer to you. They were there for everything. Their erections become tighter as you thrash around and scream. Your rage fulfills them in an unexplainable way. They never knew why your rebellion always struck them in the heart. Who knew they’d be this stuck over their friend’s little bratty sister.

“I’m cumming.” Mikey whispers with his head against yours as he breathes out a moan. He grinds out his orgasm just as another crack fills the room, followed by an appalling scream from you. You cry as he pulls himself out of you. The swelling from both legs tingle as you lie there in terrible pain. Agony comes from your neck and both of your legs. As well as your vagina. You couldn’t believe what your own brother just did.

“I hate you.” You sob. You wanted to curl into yourself but the restraints made it impossible.

“Awe don’t cry so much, cookie.” A thumb caressed your forehead as Ran stared you down. “All ya gotta do is be good, now.”

“Or else…” Rin chuckled as he slightly dangled one of your broken ankles. You only sob in response, ignoring them as you try to refrain from making eye contact. You wanted to disappear.

Before he climbs off of you, Mikey leans over to plant a kiss on your lips. You don’t push him back nor respond to the peck. He pulls his pants up as he walks toward the other executives.

“Do what you will, just have her cleaned and brought to my room after.”

“I’ll always be the one to protect you, Y/n. You belong to me.”

You look into the eyes of your older brother, tears in your own as you hug him tight. You both sat on the ground in front of Shinichiro’s grave.

“You’ll learn.”

231 notes · View notes

yoonia · 6 days

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Ever A Never After: Act 2 (1)

⟶ Chapter Summary | Some say fate can be a cruel thing. Yet you never knew how true it was until fate played a hand in your bad luck. Merely moments before your happily ever after, you are suddenly sent out to a weird place. A different world. You wonder if this is a test from fate to see if you are truly deserving of your happy ending, or if perhaps fate wants to show you something else. Something that fate wishes you to learn before you can finally move on to take the next step towards your happiness.

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com ⟶ Word count | 15,410 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; slow burn, mentions of curses, black magic, theft, law terms. ⟶ Author’s note | Gosh, this took so long to update, and I’m so sorry for that. Act 2 has expanded way beyond planned, so I had to split this into two (shorter) chapters to make it easier to read and for me to edit. Still, this was roughly edited because I’m currently dealing with a lot of stuff (sick cat, health issues, mental block, etc), but I hope you’ll still enjoy reading this.

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𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1. 𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡

Is this a dream?

Am I dreaming?

You have to be dreaming. You are sure of it. Because there could be no other way to explain what is happening now.

But what exactly happened?

Just moments ago, you were standing in front of the most exquisite fountain you have ever seen, marvelling at its beauty—the artistic carvings around the pool, the crystal-like water flowing in slow ripples, and the waterfall that seemed to have manifested from the palace’s walls. You had gotten completely enchanted by the sight of the fountain that you were already drowning in it even before you fell straight into it.

That’s right. I fell into the fountain. But how did I fall?

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, most likely due to shock. All you can remember is that at one moment, you were standing there, watching the cascading water that appeared like a crystal veil falling into a pool of clear, silvery water, and then the next, you felt like gravity became stilted and you started falling.

You remember the sound of the water splashing and crashing all around you. And then came the cold. The water felt like ice as it engulfed you, adding weight to your dress as it soaked all over the fabric which was dragging you deeper, bringing you down, and down, with not a sign of you reaching the end of this fall anytime soon.

Is there really no end to this pool? Where is the bottom?

It seems odd to think that the pool you have fallen into could be this deep. You are quite sure you could see the bright white marble stone at the bottom of the pool when you were marvelling at the fountain earlier, and it didn’t seem to be this deep.

But even weirder is the fact that your dress. Despite having been soaked with water earlier, the dress is no longer drenched. Neither is your hair. Your body is dry, even when you still feel cold. Real cold. As if you are being embraced entirely with ice.

All while you are continuously falling. Still falling. With nothing embracing your fall no matter how much time seems to have passed since.

Turning to look down below, you can only see nothingness. The sight of endless darkness surrounds you from all sides and corners. All except one. Darkness is not the only thing that you see as you fall, as the part of the waterfall you saw at the fountain is here with you; a veil made up of crystal-like water cascading right beside you, an extension of the falling water you saw right before your fall.

How odd, you wonder, as you try to reach out to it as you continue falling. The waterfall seems to magically continue into the darkness beyond. As if there is no end to it.

Just like how there seems to be no end to your descent.

This is it, isn’t it? This is the end. You cannot help but wonder, finding no other way except to give in to fate. Instead of panicking and feeling terrified, for some reason, you find calmness. Calm enough to choose to touch the endless waterfall, feeling its icy stream with the tips of your fingers, instead of looking into the dark to embrace your final moment.

“So beautiful,” you whisper as rainbow colours magically appear in the water at the touch of your fingers. Sparks seem to spread into your skin as the water sprinkles out of the waterfall, splashing gently around your hand. “How lovely, it—oh!”

All of a sudden, everything comes to a sudden halt. Pain spreads through the side of your body—from your shoulders and down to your hip—as you fall onto a hard surface. Groaning in pain, you make no effort to move. Not until the throbbing ache begins to ebb.

Pressing your palm down, you nearly flinch instead of finding steadiness. The ground beneath you feels as cold as ice. It feels beyond uncomfortable, yet you try to hold the displeasure and push yourself up to sit.

The first thing you notice as you look around is the way your skirt is splayed widely on the ground. A stark white that glows like moonlight against the dark void that forms the solid ground beneath you which seemed to have manifested out of the darkness.

The wall of incandescent water is now gone. Only the darkness remains, blending into the midnight-coloured ground going as far as your eyes can see.

Confusion plagues you. Instead of feeling any hint of fear, you feel somewhat serene. As if the shadow around you has not only swallowed down all the lights, but also your frazzled thoughts.

And yet your senses are clear. Enough to allow you to see it when the light suddenly appears amongst the endless layer of shadow around you.

Just like the wall of water which accompanies your fall, this light is filled with tiny sparks, floating in the air like little stars you see in the night sky. Slowly, you begin crawling towards it, worrying that your legs would fail you should you dare to try and rise on your feet.

From up close, you can see clearly that the sparkle of lights is, in fact, not actual stars. They are simply fractures of light filtering through small apertures formed between and around an iron plate that seems to have manifested on the center of the midnight-coloured ground.

Leaning down, you try to take a peek into where the lights are coming from. Except that the opening is too small for you to see anything clearly. Still, you can hear sounds—steady murmurs with sometimes a few indiscernible shouts echoing through the unseen space beneath you, rapid footsteps and rustles of hard materials crossing the opposite side of the ground, an irregular current of rumbling and wheels that sound larger and heavier than the wheels of horse carriages that you are most accustomed to hearing, and loud horns blaring from every corner.

Feeling hope clawing in your chest that you may find your exit beyond this iron plate, you sit back up and begin tracing the edges, looking for something to hold. A touch of a small gap on the outer rim of the plate tells you where to place a grip. With the tips of your fingers, you gently press and slip them into the gap, hoping that you can pry it open.

It takes some effort, but you finally manage to slide the heavy iron plate aside. A strong breeze immediately filters through the opening. A breeze that feels nothing like what you remember back home.

It feels warm, but with barely a hint of the fresh air filled with the scent of pine and clear water that you are accustomed to. Instead, the air feels dry, mixed in with smoke and dust and a tad smell of must which makes your throat grow tight and you find it hard to breathe. Coughing up, you suddenly feel as if the ground beneath you is tilting over, your body being pulled into the opening by invisible threads. The force is so strong that you cannot fight it, unable to stop your body from submerging into the hole.

Or, in this case, emerge.

Because the moment you open your eyes again, you are pulling yourself out of the opening. The world on the other side of the hole seems to be inverted, everything held upside down with gravity pulling you down in the wrong direction. What you had thought to be the bottom turns out to be a bright sky, the sunlight shining so brightly that it hurts your eyes.

Your legs are trembling when you step out of the hole, your heels almost slipping on the hard ground that is lighter than the ground where you had landed on from your fall, the surface uneven and rugged.

Your body feels stilted as it defies gravity, and it takes some time before you can finally regain your bearings. A struggle made by being instantly overwhelmed with a myriad of sensations coming over you—the air that feels too warm and the sunlight that seems too bright after being stuck in the dark for a long while, the loud noises reverberating in the space around you, and the rush that seems to be happening everywhere you look.

Where—where am I? What is this place?

Shaking your head, you wonder if you are simply imagining things or perhaps you are dreaming. Because this place looks nothing like Andalasia.

The road where you are standing isn’t made of cobblestones and gravel. Instead of trees, you see buildings in various shapes, sizes, and colours. Buildings that seem taller than Castle Andalasia and its towers or even the enigmatic witch tower you had once seen during your trip across the woodlands.

Some of these buildings are even sparkling under the sunlight, as if they are enchanted with spells and light magic in various colours. With crystals that are covering half of their bodies and lights illuminating even under the bright sun. Lights that appear like stars and rainbows glitter onto the streets below, flashing luminous colours onto the people passing by as if they are blessed with magic.

And there are so many people around you—walking up and down the road, across the street. Some are rushing in quick footsteps, while others are walking leisurely as they admire the buildings and the bright, colourful lights glimmering from around them. Many are dressed funnily, with only a few wearing dresses and suits like the townspeople of Andalasia who you often met when you were with your grandmother tending her shop downtown.

But most baffling is the sight of numerous carriages appearing in odd shapes and various flashy colours, all seeming to have been crafted with metal, driving up and down the main road without a single sight of horses pulling them. You watch as some of those metal carriages are stuck before turning to a different road, and the sound of the horns you heard earlier starts blaring all around you.

What are those things? What kind of magic exists here?

“Excuse me, Ma’am? You’re not allowed to be here.”

A deep voice startles you, drawing a squeal out of your lips. Turning around, you see four men coming towards you. Four large men, all of them wearing similar clothing. Chest coverings in the shade of tangerine and sunflowers which look like those vests that knights would wear under their armours, only thinner and frail, barely a protection against threats. And just like some knights you once saw patrolling across the rise around Castle Andalasia, the men are wearing helmets that reflect the sunlight. Except they don’t protect the men’s faces the way they should have, making you wonder if they might be a different type of knights which you had never met before.

“Ma’am?” One of the men calls out when you fail to answer. But it isn’t his voice that snaps you out of your stunned silence. It is how the man is leaning close to you, looking at you with an odd look on his face—as if you are some kind of a wild creature coming from the forest.

“I beg your pardon?” Your voice comes out thin. Nearly indiscernible among the loud noises coming from all around you.

This seems to surprise the strange man as his gaze softens. So does his voice when he points at what appears to be a line of makeshift fence bordering all around you from the busy road. “This spot is closed. See? We’re doing some work in here and you’re in our way.”

You frantically gaze around, scrutinizing the small things you have failed to take notice of before. Everything is still so confusing and you only end up feeling more lost than ever. Seems like you had emerged in the middle of the road. The metal carriages are driving around you, avoiding the area bordered by the fences circling the spot where you and these men are standing. And it seems that you have garnered some attention, as you watch some people passing by turning to look.

Another man steps closer while looking wary. “Is there a problem, Miss? Why are you in the middle of the road?”

“Oh, um—” Taking a deep breath, you muster calmness before looking back at the men again. “Forgive me, Sir. It appears that I have gotten myself lost. Can you please show me the way to return to Andalasia? I must go back before it’s too late. The ceremony should’ve already started by now but here I am, still—”

“Are you lost, Miss? Are you talking about the ceremony that’s happening today?” A different man takes over this time. Unlike the others, he seems to be more even-tempered, calmer as he speaks, and he isn’t treating you as if you a wild thing to be wary of.

A sigh of relief escapes you as you turn to the third man, finding solace in his presence. “Yes, there’s a ceremony that I must attend, and it’s—”

You suddenly find it hard to continue, unable to openly share your concerns.

How ridiculous does it sound? The bride, losing her way to her own wedding?

You clear your throat and force a smile. “You see, I wasn’t sure where to go with no one to guide me and I suppose I took too many turns to get to the venue that I lost my way.” The words come out of you rapidly in a rush before you can stop them, while the men start looking at each other.

“What ceremony are you talking about?” The first man whispers to the friendly one that you are talking to.

“There’s a party thing going on the block over. Saw guests coming in dressed up in designer dresses and suits earlier like one of those award things. Much fancier than what she’s wearing,” the third man answers as he points at your wedding dress.

Joy bursts through your chest at his words. Elegant dresses and suits fancier than your handmade dress can only mean one thing. Surely, he is talking about the nobbles who were invited by the Queen to attend your wedding with the Prince.

The nicer man of the three looks at you again with a rueful smile. “It isn’t far from here. Do you see those black vans over there? The ones heading down that street?” He points out across the street, where the congested road of metal carriages appears. “Just follow them and you’ll find the venue around the corner. You won’t miss it with all the crowd and paparazzi lining up at the front.”

You have no idea what some of the words he is telling you mean, yet you barely waste any time considering it when your gaze lands on a group of dark-coloured metal carriages driving past the blockage, drawing attention from the crowd surrounding them.

Clasping your hands together, you turn to the man and thank him with a bow. “Then I must not waste more time and make haste. Thank you for your help. It’s so kind of you.”

“Uh, yeah—anytime,” the kind man murmurs absently as he watches you gather your flowy skirt and gracefully turn away to start trudging across the street, following his guide. Barely acknowledging his response when you have your mind busy wondering about those dark carriages and the crowd of people who are watching them go.

Are those some sort of magic carriages coming for the guests?

You find this peculiar, yet pleasantly surprising, as the last time you spoke to the Prince, he spoke about not feeling sure about having many guests attending the wedding ceremony.

“Queen Mother might get anxious about the wedding being so rushed. You wouldn’t mind keeping it small, do you? Mother would be able to use magic to announce the wedding to our neighbouring kingdoms and send out invitations, yet who knows how many would be able to travel to Andalasia on such short notice.”

You still remember that moment—the gentle sway of the horse that the Prince led to walk slower towards your home, the strands of his hair that kept flickering with the breeze, and the flutter rising inside your chest.

You sighed into his embrace, still finding it hard to believe that it wasn’t a dream. That you were talking with the Prince about your wedding. “I don’t mind. As long as we’re together.”

Prince Jungkook laughed softly then. “You make me want to rush the wedding further, Princess.”

The warmth that you felt that day returns just as you remember his smile. So does the flutter in your chest as you think about returning to the Prince so you can marry him. Just as planned. You are lost in the depth of your thoughts as you turn away from the burly men, reminiscing the past that had just ended a day ago—more or less.

A day that feels like forever as you tread carefully down the road, avoiding the carriages that are speeding across and around you, horns and shouts blowing in the air as they drive past by.

Everything seems like a white noise, regardless of how foreign the sounds are to you. They all drown even the loud voices of the burly men that you are leaving behind as they are calling out to you from behind.

“Wait, is she walking? In that dress?” One of the construction workers who had first approached you at the site shouts behind you, baffled as he realises that you are going on foot towards the venue for the movie premier mentioned by his colleague. “Hey, you might want to get an Uber, Miss!”

“Let her be. She’ll probably get there faster than riding a car with all this traffic,” the only oldest one from the group who didn’t make an effort to speak to you comments from the side, already busy continuing the work that he left behind to grab a bit for lunch earlier.

The worker who felt sorry enough to help you ponders over his friend’s comment for a moment as he watches you disappearing among the crowd. “Yeah, you're probably right.” he finally says after pushing down the unease boiling inside him. “Did anyone see where she came from?”

“She was already standing there when I got here,” says the first worker who came back to the renovation site to find you first. He is just about to say something when he suddenly stumbles, barely catching himself from falling when one of his feet slips down into an opening that he failed to notice when he first came in.

“What the fuck—” he curses under his breath once he realises what had almost made him fall over. “Hey, who opened the goddamn sewer? I could’ve broken my neck!”

How long has it been?

How far have I been walking?

Speech has long left you. Your thoughts are barely coherent as time continues to pass by without fail, and you are still out here, stranded in the middle of a city that you cannot recognise as a part of your home.

Home feels so far away.

Especially now that you are starting to believe that you are no longer in Andalasia. Nowhere near enough, that is quite for sure, as there is nothing about this place that comes close to anything that you would normally find back home.

Hours must have passed since you’ve fallen through the fountain and then emerged in this strange place. Wherever this place is. Hours of walking and getting lost in a giant maze that was way more complex and bewildering than the maze of hedges back in the castle.

Hours have definitely passed since you looked up to the sky to see the bright sunlight. Warm as it was after having drowned in the cold shadow that brought you here.

Was it really hours ago when you spoke to those burly men on the road? You wonder to yourself as you look up at the sky, the colours are slowly changing, the white and stark blue in the sky turning warmer as the sun continues to glide lower into the horizon, under the tall buildings that look larger than guard towers.

The place that the kind man had informed you about hadn’t been a part of the castle. Not at all a part of a royal wedding. But your wishful thinking made you believe that you may have gotten through a different entrance gate leading back to the castle when you saw the glorious sight of noblewomen and noblemen walking down a red carpet into what seemed to be some sort of a ball.

The dresses you saw were captivating, more stunning than the dresses you saw worn by the ladies of Andalasia. The men wore breathtaking suits, with colours brighter than what you had ever seen before. Some were even adorned with rare jewels that glowed under the lights as the men walked down the same path covered in red carpet.

You were so enthralled by the sight of them that you didn’t realise being lured to follow them. Stepping closer only led you to be pulled in, drawn into the line of nobbles walking into the venue.

There were also the forces around you which kept pushing you to them—the crowd of people outside of the venue that seemed to be admiring the stunning nobles entering the venue, the flashing lights coming from every corner, blinding your eyes that you couldn’t see where you were being pulled into, and the guards in suits who kept yelling at you to “Keep moving!”

It wasn’t until you were at the door that it was finally made clear to you that you were at the wrong place.

“An—invitation?” You stood by one of the guards who eventually stopped you from going further, baffled when you were suddenly asked for an invitation.

An invitation, to your own wedding?

“Yes, you’re here for the premiere, aren’t you? We need to see your invitation.”

“I’m not—” you looked around, panicked. Your voice weakened when you murmured defeatedly, “I’m supposed to be at the wedding.”

There was something in the guard’s eyes that made your chest clench. A look of pity that you had only once seen from your grandmother when you came home late at night after playing out in the forest too long.

“This is an invitation-only event, so I’m afraid you’re at the wrong place, Miss.” The man turned to another guard then and said something about helping you find an exit without having to go back through the crowd. Yet you barely paid attention to any of it, too distraught about getting stuck at the wrong place when you were running out of time.

“Excuse me, Sir. Can you please show me the direction to Castle Andalasia?”

You tried to ask the guard as he was pushing you out of the exit, who no longer had his attention on you as commotion suddenly started rising from where you first came in. “Keep moving, Miss. You shouldn’t be the way,” he only said before rushing away, leaving you lost and clueless at the exit.

Shaking your head, you try to shut down your thoughts, pushing away the uneasiness that is haunting you and start paying more attention to your surroundings.

You cannot remember half of the journey that took you here after leaving that place. Nothing but a blur of faces and movements, being pushed around amongst the crowd of people and getting too close to danger when you had to dodge the metal carriages rushing through the streets.

The only thing reminding you of how far you have travelled through the city to find your way home is the soreness growing on your legs, the blisters you feel forming on your skin from wearing your heels for too long, and there is no doubt your updo is falling apart, held up merely by the pins from the tiara on your head.

Thinking about your tiara makes you think about your forest friends. You lift your hand to brush against the jewels, reminiscing the sweet moment when your friends helped pin the tiara on top of your head before sending you off for the wedding.

“Oh, my precious angels. I hope you’re all safe,” you whisper, choking with a sob. You wonder where they are, and wonder if they ever got to the wedding spot safely and met the Prince. They must be worried, once they realised you weren’t at the venue when they got there.

Picturing their voices saddens you. You miss their cheerful chitters and squeaks, the little teases they often throw at you just to make you smile. You wrap your arms around yourself as you think about them, wishing that they were here with you instead. How different this would have been if you had them around. Their presence would have been wonderful. Even if they would be just as lot as you are now, at least they could have cheered you up so you wouldn’t lose hope.

Any sliver of hope you had to find your way home was fairly lost some time ago. Even so, you refuse to give up. You cannot give up. It would have been silly for you to simply give up and stop looking for your way home. You are merely lost. The only thing you need is to find the right road to take, and perhaps the right person who would be willing to help you.

Sighing, you feel your hope dwindling even more as you think about finding help.

The people here—they aren’t kind.

Apart from the burly men dressed in bright-coloured vests and oddly shaped knight helmets you met when you first arrived in this strange place, you have yet to find anyone else willing to help, much less to look your way.

Well, some did. Though not all were interested enough to help, quite a few seemed to make a mockery of your wedding dress or were curious about why you were wearing such a dress in the middle of the city. At least, there were a rare few that tried to help you. At least, you want to believe that they meant well, even when they seemed confused.

“Excuse me, could you please show me the direction to Castle Andalasia, please?”

“Excuse me—”

You remember asking, questioning the people you passed by until your voice nearly grew hoarse. And you remember how often you were met with suspicious glances, and wary gazes, before some of the worn doubts faded and they all tried to point you in various directions to go.

“A wedding? I heard wedding bells from the chapel across that garden. That must be where you’re heading?” said one lady with streaks of grey in her hair and a hint of caution in her eyes.

You nearly ran across the garden that she pointed towards, not even sparing a glance to admire its beauty until you reached a chapel. A place where an actual wedding was happening, only that it wasn’t yours, and you had only stayed for a minute to watch the bride and groom walking down the staircase after sharing their true love’s kiss.

And then there were those other people who seemed awfully confused with your question when you asked for directions that they spoke with words that had no meaning for you.

“Castle? What castle you said? This isn’t England, lady.”

“Is that a new ride in Universal Studio?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Is she talking about a movie set? Just point her to the studio. Seems to be wearing the wrong period dress, though.”

You have lost count of how many places you’ve been to in the day, none of which turned out to be anything close to the castle. How many times you were turned away from buildings and gated properties after following the directions that you were given? How it had only led you to become even more lost, not knowing which way to go?

And then when you were not being turned away from one direction to the next through those vain instructions, you kept finding yourself being thrust and propelled to a myriad of courses without having any control or sense way to go. It kept going on for a while, until you finally managed to escape, leaving the crowded streets and the busy part of the city behind.

The road you took to leave the bustling place you’ve been to still bears no sign of it leading towards Andalasia. But at least it is quieter here than the roads you travelled across before.

The bright and flashy buildings you saw earlier have grown less and less the more you go. Some still look as menacing as the towers of the evil witches of Andalasia, others are standing strong like fortresses with giant luminous paintings attached to their walls. But they grow more scarce as you continue walking, finding more gates and long, unending walls, and trees which stand like massive pillars pointing up to the sky.

The roads that you have seen so far are wider, longer, all filled with those carriages—most of them in similar sizes, some bigger than most, and there was one which appeared like a giant animal strolling down the road—without horses pulling them forward. The surface is smoother than the gravel-coloured roads winding down between the towns and villages of Andalasia, all painted in a darker shade of colour than the cobblestone roads you saw around the castle.

As you continue walking, you keep hoping that the roads will suddenly change. To grow smaller in size and change shapes so you can follow them to find your way back to Andalasia.

And yet, just like how fate hasn’t been on your side today, there is no such luck.

Your head is pounding. You cannot remember when was the last time you ate or drank anything. You had been so nervous about your wedding that you could barely swallow anything at breakfast.

Now it seems that the day is growing darker. Time seems to flow faster here than how you remember it back home. The temperature has also dropped. It happened so suddenly that it almost felt like you were once again transported to another place in time. Without having to fall into a fountain this time.

Hugging yourself isn’t doing much to eliminate the cold, and you begin to regret not listening to your grandmother about covering your dress with a coat when you left home this morning. And your dress is getting heavier the more exhausted you feel. The skirt is dragging by your feet and the hems have gotten soiled after walking so long.

Rounding the corner, you see a line of benches on the side of the road. Before you realise it, you quicken your pace, desperate to rest even for a moment.

“Oh, this is great,” you whisper with a sigh of relief once you are rested on the bench. Leaning back, you rest your sore back and shoulders, before stretching out your sore legs. You can feel your muscles growing lax. Even if you are still feeling down in the dumps, drowsiness easily sets in.

But right before you can allow sleep to take over, you blink your eyes open to the creaking sound of wheels and look up across the street. And then you see her. Covered from head to toe in a dark-coloured cloak, the familiar figure that you saw just hours ago is walking on the other side of the road. Hunched down, the hood of her cloak covers the top of her head but not enough to hide her from sight, and she is focusing more on pushing the metal cart that she has with her to notice you watching.

The old hag.

“You—! Wait a moment!” You push yourself up. Getting your legs to start working again is a struggle that you nearly slip on the pavement before you manage to run across the street, catching up to the cloaked figure right before she disappears around the corner. “Please, I have no idea what happened, but you need to bring me back to the castle before—”

Desperate, you reach out to grab her, to get her to listen, and the cloaked old had abruptly turns to snap at you. “Hey, don’t touch me! What’s your fucking problem?”

You step back, flinching at the hostility and the stench. “I—” Your words die down when her hood falls back, revealing her true features. Immediately, you can see that you have made a mistake.

The person before you has a tangled mass of darker hair in the colour of chestnut, with only a few strands of grey and silver appearing from the top of her head, unlike the elder woman you met at the royal garden with silver-moon hair framing her face. From up close, it clears that her cloak is tattered and stained in various places, unlike the old hag’s velvety cloak which appeared slightly fancier despite looking worn out and old. And while this person’s face seems to have been roughened with time, with lines and scars appearing around her eyes and lips, she still looks much younger than the person you have been seeking since you met her last.

Disappointed, you can feel the strains of hope you felt leaving your body. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

The person scowls, giving you a look that reminds you too much of the troll who attacked you the previous day that you wince back. “I should sue you,” she says, her voice lowering to a snarl.

“What—?”

The hooded woman sneers, showing you her stained, crooked teeth when she chuckles. “Yeah, I’m suing for harassment. I was just walking and minding my own business when you’re trying to mug me.”

You watch in horror as she points at the pile of things filling up her metal cart, accusing you of thievery. “No, I wasn’t! I told you that I’m sorry—”

The peculiar woman scoffs, yet her eyes still narrow with suspicions. “All right, fine. Then pay up and I ain’t calling the cops.”

“I’m—sorry?”

Once again, the woman snarls at you. She pushes her hand at you, palms facing up. “Pay up, hon. Give me some cash. I know you have some with you.”

The woman, looking awfully wicked as she smiles at you, scares you so much that you cannot stop yourself from stepping back to avoid her calloused and cracked hand. “But I don’t have any money. No coins. Anything,” you nearly beg her as you grab a hold of your flowy skirt, clenching it tightly to stop your hands from trembling.

The wicked smile on the woman’s face immediately turns to a frown. “What? You’re telling me you’re dressed all fancy and you got no cash with you?”

The sharpness in her voice terrifies you. So much so that your hands are no longer the only ones trembling in fear. Your whole body freezes, and your legs start to grow weak as you take another step away from her. Another move and the woman’s gaze moves upward, stopping at your tiara.

Her sneer returns. “Guess this will do.”

Her eyes, which appeared pale and dim blue when you first saw her, now begin to glint with a new light. Piercing blue eyes glow under the streetlights as if she is using some kind of magic, distracting you for a brief moment as she suddenly raises her hands to grab your tiara.

“Wait! No!” You flinch backwards, trying to escape. You let go of your grip on your dress to stop her, but it’s too late. Her grip strengthens on your tiara and she begins to pull. “Don’t do that! Stop!”

For someone who seems so weathered, the woman is strong. Much stronger compared to your weary self who can barely fight back. With a strong tug, she manages to pull your tiara off of your head, pulling a few strands of your hair with it, while the force she uses pushes you backwards until you fall into a heap of mess—your bottom hitting hard onto the pavement that you can feel your skin bruising underneath, your skirt spreading all around you, catching dirt and soil, while your frail legs are bent beneath your weight.

“Now this looks nice. I bet I can trade this for some cash,” the woman muses with a wicked chuckle as she turns the tiara back and forth in her hand, giving it a closer look. The glint in her eyes seems to glow brighter, drawing an eerie shudder through your body. She looks at you with the same sneer that she’s been wearing when she says, “Thanks, doll.”

You feel powerless. Too shocked and afraid to move, yet you make another effort to beg her as she turns to leave.

“No, please don’t take it away! That’s from my—”

Yet your plea falls on unhearing ears. Before you can muster any strength to push yourself up, she quickly disappears around the corner where it seems to be darker than the streets around you, moving too quickly for your muddled brain to process.

Your final resolve crumples, sending you back to the ground as you fall on your knees once again. Speechless, you can only look on towards the shadows where the wicked woman had disappeared to with your thoughts running wild.

A witch.

There is no doubt about it. That woman was an evil witch. Cold shivers run down your body as fear engulfs you. Wherever this place is, you need to get away as soon as possible. Get away from danger. A place where witches reside cannot be safe. Not for you.

With trembling hands, you reach up to touch your hair, now left as nothing more but a tangled mess after the witch pulled your tiara off of your head. Your eyes feel hot, and you wonder if it has something to do with a spell that the witch has left you with in her escape.

But you cannot even dwell on it or think too deeply about it. The heartbreak that you feel in your chest has become too much. Your heart breaks thinking about your forest friends, how disappointed they would be once they find out that you have lost the wedding gift that they had prepared for you.

But what breaks your heart the most is realising that you can no longer go to your dream wedding looking as pristine as you had initially intended. To be the perfect bride deserving to be standing on the Prince’s side as you finally share your true love’s kiss.

As your dream shatters to dust, everything you have inside you begins to wane into nothing. Not even your dwindling hope can spark your heart and spirit back alight without any sign of things going back to the way it was supposed to.

“Oh, dear me. What am I going to do now?”

The pitter-patter sound of raindrops falling on the moving car has never felt so soothing.

But perhaps this is something that Seokjin needs at the moment, even if it is only to help calm his mind.

Normally, he wouldn’t have any problem finding calmness once the day has ended. But the day hasn’t been going well for Seokjin.

The mediation meet-up which had kept him in a bind all afternoon is still stuck in his mind, still weighing him down even as hours have passed. He feels like he can still hear his clients’ voices echoing in his head whenever there is silence or when he closes his eyes, always arguing about the same old thing—over and over again.

Always going in circles without fail, with no solution made, and with no party involved ever willing to back down. And every time the memory comes, he can hear his boss’ voice—one of the partners leading the law firm where he works at—advising him to quickly solve the issue and move on to the next case.

He feels drained and spent just thinking about it again, and he is already dreading the thought of having to deal with them again tomorrow, their last meeting was left with some unfinished business that still needs to be resolved. But it wasn’t like he had any other choice about how he left things behind. He did have to cut the meeting short, lest he wanted to stay all night at the office, being confined in the same room with those same clients.

And he did have something more urgent to get to.

His daughter’s dance recital.

Looking up from his phone, Seokjin turns to his baby girl. A smile voluntarily makes its way to his face as he watches her humming to herself, replacing the scowl that he has been wearing almost all evening.

“You look scary, Daddy,” Ah-ri had said to him the first time he came to pick her up this late afternoon to help her get ready for her recital, wearing that same scowl on his face. Those simple words had worked like a charm, reminding him to leave all the stress and troubles behind whenever he was spending his time with his little girl.

“Sorry, Princess. Just a little tired from work, but I’m excited to see you dance,” Seokjin had said in return, showing a smile instead of a frown, drawing Ah-ri’s own smile and her excitement back on.

Seokjin is quite relieved that he made it to the event on time, and had even made it to stick with her before so he could calm her nerves before she got on stage. Being there for Ah-ri for her performance had become the perfect reprieve that Seokjin had needed the most. It was the perfect escape from the troubles that had been haunting him, and watching her shine on the stage had helped him forget about the noises and the dreadful thoughts over the case that he was dealing with all day.

And his daughter was magnificent. He might be biased, but Seokjin believes his little girl was the best dancer to perform tonight. He was so proud of her that he was beaming with pride by the time he walked out of the venue with Ah-ri by his side.

The only thing stopping him from carrying his little princess and parading him among the other parents there had come to the show was her fancy tutu dress. The girl had been so proud of her dancing costume that he knew she wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything to ruin the delicate ruffles that she spent hours making sure would flare prettily when she was dancing.

If only the night’s event hadn’t highlighted another problem that was lying in wait for Seokjin to take notice of.

Once again, his eyes return to the phone in his hand.

At the screen that has gone unchanging over the past few hours. The texts that were left unanswered, ignored, and most undeniably, unread.

‘Where are you?’

‘Why are you not picking up the phone?’

‘I thought you said you wanted to come to Ari’s recital? The show’s about to start in 10 minutes.’

‘I’m not going to wait for you. I’m going in. It’s starting and I have the ticket with me.’

Reading through the messages makes him cringe. He never thought that he would turn out to be that kind of person. The kind of partner that would bombard their other half with texts when there had been no news from them.

But this was Ah-ri’s big day. And when it comes to his daughter’s happiness and joy, Seokjin will always be willing to put aside his ego. Even at the risk of fracturing the fragile relationship that he has built with Kira for the past few years.

Seokjin exhales a deep, resigned sigh as he recalls seeing Ah-ri’s hollow gaze the moment she first realised that he had come alone. A part of him was convinced that she was just as disappointed as he was for his girlfriend’s absence, but there was a small voice in his head telling him that the little girl had never harboured any hope that Kira was ever going to come.

And that only makes him feel even worse.

“Are you still busy with work, Daddy?” Ah-ri asks him with a small voice. When Seokjin turns to look a this little girl and sees the pout forming on her lips, he knows he’s messing up the mood.

Forcing his frown away, he smiles at his baby girl and ruffles her hair teasingly. “No, honey. Daddy’s just reading some texts that came in while you were dancing. I was so happy to see you up on the stage and was so busy taking videos of you that there were some messages I missed.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, nodding, and Seokjin has to bite back a smile. Sometimes, she can look like she’s trying to act like a big girl when she does this. At least she’s no longer pouting. “But you’re not working again tonight, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course, not. No more work tonight. Didn’t we promise to read some storybook tonight?”

Reminded of his promise, and perhaps already thinking about her Daddy sticking around to read her favourite stories before bedtime, her smile grows so wide that Seokjin’s chest expands with warmth. “That’s right. We did,” she says, a bit more cheerfully this time.

“Let Daddy read some of the missed texts while there’s a chance to, okay? You should rest until we’re home,” he says, to which the little girl nods her head again.

“Okay,” she muses, and her attention is quickly drawn towards the car window. “The rain is stopping.”

Seokjin looks up and nods. “Oh, you’re right. Good thing that we’re almost home so we don’t have to be wet,” he murmurs with a grim smile.

Funny weather today, he wonders, as he thinks about the rain.

The sudden drizzle that came right when they were leaving the venue only added today’s peculiarity. It was a relief that Seokjin—who was too exhausted after work to drive his own car—had the mind of ordering an Uber for them before they got all wet. And now there is nothing that he wants more than to get home, get warm and comfy, and rest for the night.

As Ah-ri begins singing the song that she was dancing to in her performance, Seokjin finds himself drawn back to his damn phone. For a brief moment, he starts debating whether he should send another message, before realising that he might sound desperate, or perhaps seen like an obsessed stalker.

I’m too tired to deal with this, he wonders with a sigh as he locks his phone and then puts the thing away as he leans back in the seat. He takes this moment to close his eyes and stop himself from overthinking so he can relax.

A moment passes, when the Uber turns into the usual route heading towards his home—one that he has gone through so many times he can recognise it even without looking—and Ah-ri’s soft humming suddenly fades. The car pulls to a halt at a stop sign, allowing another vehicle through, as Ah-ri starts nudging at her Dad.

“Daddy, there’s a princess on the billboard.”

Seokjin hums. “A what?”

“A princess!” Ah-ri excitedly cheers.

“There’s no princess, sweetheart. They make realistic advertisements nowadays that make pictures look more real. You know, like those 3D billboards I showed you once with the characters jumping out into the crowd, remember?”

“No, Daddy. It’s a real princess!” Ah-ri stubbornly starts shouting as the car shifts to move again, “No, mister! Stop! Don’t go!”

Seokjin opens his eyes when the car jerks, the driver hitting the brakes out of shock. He still has his eyes on the front of the car that he isn’t ready when Ah-ri suddenly unlocks her side of the door and jumps out.

“What the—”

“Sir, your daughter—”

“Yes, I know. I’m so sorry about this. Can you please wait for a minute?”

Seokjin already has one foot out the door when the driver swiftly responds, “Sure, I’ll park the car and get out of the road first.”

“Thank you!” Shutting the door behind him, Seokjin looks across the road, his heart nearly dropping when he sees Ah-ri already halfway there. Breathless and mind-filled with fear, he chases his daughter, calling her out and quickly grabbing her shoulders once he catches up with her. “Ari, what are you doing? Get back in the car!”

“No, Daddy. Look, there’s a princess up there!” she stubbornly fights against him while pointing up above.

“That’s not real, honey. Look, see? It’s nothing but—holy shit!”

Seokjin didn’t know what to expect when he looked up, following where Ah-ri was pointing at. Maybe a part of him did expect to see those modern types of billboards with the 3D effects where the characters were made to reach out of the screen—which was what he had in mind when he mentioned it to his daughter earlier—even though he has no clue why anyone would put such a modernised advertisement on a quiet road like this one, where there are only old, low-level apartments in the neighbourhood.

But the moment he looks up, all he sees is a billboard in the form of a 3D castle promoting a new live-action movie based on a children's fairytale story releasing on an online streaming channel this month. He has seen it a few times whenever he was driving down this road on his way to work, and he knows for sure that it never had any additional feature put up with it.

And somehow, he sees a woman wearing a white dress standing in front of the replica of the castle from the movie. Doing God knows what. With heels that cannot possibly steady enough to help her balance on the small ledge she is standing on.

Is she actually knocking at the castle’s door right now?

“See, Daddy? It’s a real princess!” Ah-ri starts shouting excitedly, pointing at the woman on the billboard before she realises, “Daddy, you said a bad word.”

Clearing his throat, Seokjin gently presses his hand on his daughter’s back to guide her back to the car. “Sweetheart, go back in the car. Let me deal with this and get back to you, okay?”

He can feel that Ah-ri is holding back, refusing to leave. The girl has always loved her princess stories and this situation isn’t helping. Seokjin takes one look over his shoulder, noticing that the Uber driver has moved the car to this side of the road, so his daughter wouldn’t have to run across.

The driver steps out of the car, gently calling out, “You want me to call the cops, sir?”

Ah-ri’s eyes immediately grow wide in panic, so Seokjin quickly waves his hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary for now. Please help my kid back to the car, will you?”

Seeing the driver stepping up to help watch his daughter, keeping her at a safe distance, Seokjin cautiously approaches the billboard to try and talk the odd woman—whom his daughter keeps calling ‘a princess’—down from that slippery ledge.

“Excuse me!” he calls out, though he is doing his best to keep calm, not wanting to startle or frighten her with his voice, when all he wants is to make sure that he can help before things get awry. “Hello? Miss? What are you doing? Is everything okay?”

Despite his effort, the woman—you—is still startled at the sound of his voice. Seokjin only realises that the white dress is a wedding dress when you turn—too sharply, which causes Seokjin to flinch—and start glancing around before finding him below. Your eyes widen with relief when you see him.

“Oh, oh! Thank goodness. I was wondering if you could—oh!”

Seokjin’s heart drops when he sees you inching forward on the ledge, your eyes looking straight at him instead of paying attention to where you are stepping on, not realising that you have reached the edge.

“Hey, watch it—”

Seokjin tries to warn you, only that he is too late. He doesn’t even think or realise what he is doing. As if on instinct, his body simply moves on its own, drawn towards you just as one of your feet slips over the edge and your body tilts forward before you fall from the staggering height.

Straight into the Seokjin’s waiting arms.

A deep, resounding grunt vibrates from around you. Yet your mind is spinning, still reeling over the series of events that have happened in the course of—a minute? Hour? No, not an hour. Oh, why does it matter?

You close your eyes when your head starts spinning even faster. Thinking hard does not seem to be advisable to do at the moment. Oddly enough, closing your eyes makes you feel slightly better. And it helps that you are surrounded by warmth. The kind of warmth that feels comforting, like a warm hug, accompanied by a delicate yet fresh scent of wood and musk and a hint of something sweet.

Wait. A hug?

Your eyes snap open when you realise that you are, in fact, engulfed by a strong pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around you to keep you from falling to the ground. Confused, you are lost to what is happening. And when you try to look up, your saviour’s face is shrouded by shadows. The light coming from above is too bright, and all you can see is the lines of his face. The short strands of hair falling from his face look like a curtain as he looks down, keeping his eyes on your face, yet it frames his face perfectly.

For a hazy moment, your mind makes you believe that you were once again saved by Prince Jungkook. That he had somehow found you and caught up to get you.

But then you blink, clearing your mind with it, just as your eyes start to adjust to the play of lights. The lines on his face becomes clearer, and then his eyes—the pair of beautiful eyes that are looking at you with fear, concern, and wonder—become visible to yours. And then you quickly realise that the person, your saviour, no matter how good-looking he is, is not the Prince.

The moment everything truly registers through your muddled mind, your eyes grow wide and your body grows rigid, before you start apologising.

“Oh, heavens! I am so sorry,” you gasp aloud, your cheeks burning with shame as you try to push away from the man and stand on your own two legs.

Yet the man’s hold around you is sturdy, and instead of releasing you and letting you fall, he gently lowers you back on your feet. His hands remain on your upper arms for a brief moment to keep you steady before he finally lets go and takes a step back.

“Are you all right? Is everything good?” the stranger begins questioning you, his eyes going down the skirt of your dress as he speaks and then lingers. A crease forms between his eyebrows when he notices the tattered hem of your skirt, and how badly soiled the fabric has gotten. His gaze rises back to your face again as he asks, “Are you hurt somewhere?”

Clutching at your skirt, feeling like you want to hide inside it, you try to recall what had happened. You had gotten quite lost in your confusion and exhaustion and were trying to find any sign that might show you the way home when suddenly, this small castle appeared before your eyes, perched atop some kind of a tower. Thinking that it might have been some piece of a totem, a magical item that might be able to take you home, you climbed on top of the tower to open the gate, only to find that it was locked. Desperate, you began banging on the door, hoping that someone on the other side would hear your call for help and open the door for you so you could come home.

Then you heard a voice. Your prayers were heard. Until you quickly realised that the voice had been coming from under the tower instead of from within the castle.

You were so surprised and so excited to finally see someone again after a long, quiet walk through this darker part of the city that you tried to get closer to him without realising it. When the man began to speak with you, you didn’t realise that you were beginning to inch forward as you responded to him, not noticing that you were stepping towards the end of the ledge until you began tilting and falling over.

You really need to stop falling.

“Are you lost, Miss?” the kind stranger asks you, full of concern, while helping to keep you steady on your feet with his gentle hold on your elbow before you start to fall back. Again.

And the help is completely welcome, as your legs keep failing you. Your exhaustion is giving you a hard time to hold the weight of your wedding dress that has grown soiled and torn in some places. But you cannot find it in you to focus on your tattered dress right now, as the stranger in front of you seems like the light shining bright in the darkness.

A beacon of hope, whose presence alone is enough to eliminate every angst and distress that you have been feeling all day long. And it is enough to bring back your faith in all goodness.

The kind of goodness which reminds you of home.

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you answer him kindly with a smile on your face. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, there is someone willing to listen and care enough to help you. “I need to find my way back to the castle.”

He stills. Glancing back and forth between you and the small-sized castle standing behind you, he carefully asks, “What castle? And what were you doing up there, endangering yourself? You could’ve hurt someone. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“What do you mean ‘what castle’? Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” A bubbling laughter leaves your lips. “I tried to knock on the front gate, but nobody answered. Maybe because it’s late? But I also have no clue if the totem only answers to a certain spell.” You stop with a deep exhale of breath when you realise that you wouldn’t know of any spell cast on the castle since you are not a royal born.

Shaking your head, you turn to the man again. “Would you please kindly show me the way to get back to the castle, I’ll be more than grateful—”

“Huh, right,” he gently cuts you off with an odd expression on his face. "Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” His eyes flicker briefly to the top of your head, where your tiara used to be. “Do you have your phone? Is there someone you can call, maybe?"

"A phone? What is that?" you ask, and his eyes grow wide, as if you had just said something so staggering it leaves him nearly speechless. "And I don't think anyone will hear me from all the way here if I call them, don't you think?"

"Ookay—" The stranger reaches into his suit jacket as if trying to pull something out of it. “Where is the address? Why don’t I just call you an Uber?”

“Uber?” You tilt your head, confused. You have never heard of the name before. “Is that the name of your horse?” you ask with a soft gasp, recalling that the gentlemen that you have met back in Andalasia tend to name their horses with peculiar names and titles to differentiate them from one another.

Just like how Prince Jungkook named his white steed Onyx—which reminds you of the gemstone similar to the one your grandmother kept in her drawers back home.

A slight pinch of sadness arises inside your chest at the thought of home—of your grandmother, the Prince, and the quaint wooden cabin taking lone residence at the heart of Amaranth Forest. Oh, how wonderful it would have been to be on your comfortable bed, tucked beneath the fuzzy blanket that your grandmother had made for you, and wearing a simpler slip of a dress that would not be pulling down your weight each time you move around.

“But, Daddy—we have an Uber!” A small voice suddenly speaks. You turn to look over behind the stranger to see a little girl popping out of the shadow. Wearing a tutu dress in pink that matches her tiny shoes and feather headpiece, she looks like a little pixie with her cheeks blushing in the cold, almost to the same colours as her fluffy skirt.

“Ari, I told you not to leave the car,” the man gently scolds the little girl while pushing her back.

“Oh, hello sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you greet her with a smile, which seems to make her happy. Because both her eyes and her smile light up almost as bright as the lights flashing from the castle behind you.

“Hello,” the girl shyly greets you back. Her voice is soft when she suddenly asks you, “Are—are you a princess?”

Laughing softly, you bend down a little to get to her height. “Oh, no. I’m not a princess. My name is _______,” you offer your hand as you introduce yourself. “What’s yours?”

The girl glances at the man briefly before taking your hand and gingerly shaking it. “I’m Ah-ri, but I also go by Ari so that my friends won’t have trouble saying my name.”

Smiling, your friends come to mind. You miss listening to them singing your name as they play around with you back home. “My friends also have a special name for me. It’s Blossom.” Your throat feels tight just thinking about them, but you try to push it down. “Which name do you feel comfortable the most with?”

The little girl’s smile widens. “I love it when my close friends, Daddy, and Grandma call me Ari,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear with a shy smile. “You look like a princess.”

Eyes growing wide, it takes you a moment to understand what she means. “Oh, it must be the dress. I mean, it would’ve been even better if I still had my tiara.”

Ah-ri gasps. “You have a tiara?”

Immediately, your heart is filled with sadness as you recall the unfortunate incident with the wicked witch. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Someone took it from me while I was looking for my way home,” you answer with a sad sigh, your eyes tearing up for the loss of your precious tiara.

Hearing this, your kind saviour’s eyes grow wide. He seems startled and wary, and begins glancing around, pulling the little girl back so he can hold her safely by his side. “You were robbed? Here?” he asks, sounding alarmed.

“Well—” Frowning, you look around as you begin to explain that it had happened a while ago. And not exactly here, wherever here is.

“Fucking hell—” you hear him say with a low tone of voice before you can say anything. You have no idea what he means, but it sounds really bad, as Ah-ri immediately turns to chide him.

“Daddy, you said a bad word.”

At the sound of her voice, the man closes his eyes and murmurs a quick apology. “I’m so sorry. Listen, Honey, you need to get back to the car. I’m going to try and call an Uber for, uh—the nice lady,” he says, pointing at you, while the girl furrows her brows, looking confused.

“With your phone? But we ordered our Uber with that earlier,” she says to her father.

“Damn it, you’re right,” he says in return, quickly stopping to mutter, “Oh, fuck.” The little girl crosses her arms as she glares at her father, who later bends down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. Fine, let me just find a way to call for help.”

You watch as the man reaches into the inside of his suit—an odd looking suit which seems so simple but quite elegant, without any jewels or golden embroideries or intricately made lining, yet still nice to look at—and pulls out a small black box in his hand which lights up at the touch of his fingers.

“What is that?” You gasp, “Oh, is that a magic talisman?”

The man looks at you with a million questions in his eyes. “A magic—what?”

Seeing that the man carries with him a magic item, no matter how small and simple it seems, you begin to feel hopeful. Finally, you will be able to go home. His magic talisman will be able to lead you back to Andalasia, as long as he says the right spell.

But why does it seem like he doesn’t understand what you are saying, even when he is holding the magic talisman in his hand?

Do they call their magic items with a different names?

“A talisman,” you try to explain the best you can, “It’s a type of magic items that sorcerers and mages would use to conjure their spells. I must admit, I’ve rarely seen them my whole life. Almost never. But I’ve heard stories of witches who use mirrors to communicate with others or see visions from other places to help them predict the future.” You look up at him with hope blooming inside you. “Are you perhaps a mage, or a warlock?”

The man, who has been looking confused the entire time he was listening to you ramble, only seems even more confused. But then he looks down, following your gaze, before asking, “Are you talking about”—the man lifts his hand to show you the square item that he is holding—”this?”

You clap your hands together. “Yes, it’s just like that one. So is it a magic mirror? Did you create a small one to carry with you everywhere you go?”

Ah-ri suddenly gasps. “Oh, I know! Magic mirrors! Just like the evil Queen in Snow White!”

Pressing your palm over your heart, you are overcome with joy as you finally hear a familiar name being mentioned here in the strange land. “You know Snow White too?”

“Yes, I do!” Ah-ri says with a voice filled with joy. She turns to her father, looking as if she wants to share that joy when she says, “Daddy, she knows Snow White!”

The man grimly nods. “Everyone knows Snow White, honey. There are a ton of movies made for the story.”

You tilt your head. “What’s a movie?”

The man seems surprised when he hears you. As if he wasn’t prepared to hear such an odd question. “I’m sorry. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? Are you staying anywhere nearby?”

Being reminded that you are still lost, the pain inside your chest grows back to its full size. “I, uh—”

Before you can even think of what to say, Ah-ri slips between the two of you and begins tugging and her father’s hand.

“Daddy, the princess needs our help, and the Uber is waiting,” she says, to which her father looks between you, his daughter, and a figure that you only now notice standing on the side of the road, where lights cannot fully reach him, with a black metal carriage parked right beside him.

“Please, Daddy?” Ah-ri asks again, while her father looks conflicted and stunned into a complete silence.

Seokjin closes his eyes and groans, wondering to himself how on earth he managed to get into this situation.

But there really is no escape from it now. The look that his daughter is giving him says so.

“Daddy?” Ah-ri calls out again, pouting, and Seokjin feels powerless against it.

“Okay, baby,” he sighs. “We’ll get the Princess some help. Let me see if we can find a way to get her home. Maybe if we—”

Seokjin looks down on his phone to find a way to get help, maybe call someone from his office, and curses under his breath when the blasted thing beeps, twice, before the screen shuts down. Having to rush from the office gave him no chance to charge his phone before going to Ah-ri’s event, and all the texting he did and checking where the hell his girlfriend was had probably drained its battery.

“Fuck—” he snaps, quickly reeling back when he realises and glancing at Ah-ri. “Sorry, baby.”

Pouting, the little girl crosses her arms over her chest and scolds him gently. “No more bad words, Daddy. It’s not polite to do it in front of the Princess.”

“I know, honey—”

While he is trying his best to keep himself together against the inner battle he is having, everything starts to fall apart at once. Right the moment his cell phone blips its last life, the rain suddenly starts again. No longer the simple drizzle wetting the road around him but a light shower that will no doubt start to pick up within seconds. Drenching them all if they stay here even a minute longer.

“Daddy…it’s raining again!”

Ah-ri’s panicked voice snaps his mind back into gear. Regaining his focus back allows Seokjin to see his daughter trying to cover her head from the rain, but the stubborn girl refuses to run back to the car. He has no doubt that it’s because she is worrying about this odd woman standing in front of them.

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the Uber driver rushing into his car. Within seconds, the driver begins reversing the car to get closer, as if making sure that they won’t have to run through the rain—again—to get back in the car.

Seokjin looks at you again, still wary about your presence. In his eyes, you are a stranger lost in the big city, with a dress that has been completely ruined and tattered that he cannot imagine you going around on the streets like this when the sun is out. Especially not here in this part of the city.

He had first thought that you might have been drunk, which would explain why you seemed confused and were doing something so dumb. Like knocking at a miniature of a castle that is a part of a billboard ad promoting a movie. But then you kept looking confused and lost to everything that he said.

With no sign of being drunk or delusional, and a reaction that looked almost genuine each time you questioned him about the things you didn’t seem to understand, his heart feels heavy about leaving you be.

The rain picks up, and you seem to be wrapping your arms around yourself tighter. Your body shivers under your soaking dress, and yet your smile doesn’t seem to waver—something that Seokjin isn’t used to seeing from the people that he has ever met before. And he can clearly see how pale you have gotten. The way you are slightly swaying on your feet also worries him. As if you are about to collapse on the street any second now if he doesn’t do something to help.

“Why don’t you come with us,” he says under the rain, surprising both himself and Ah-ri with the offer.

He isn’t the kind of person who would easily offer this kind of help to a random stranger he meets on the street. And yet the moment the words slip out of his lips, he has a feeling that he is doing the right thing.

“It’ll take around ten to fifteen minutes to get to our house, but it will be a lot better than staying out in the rain like this,” he says, mustering a smile even when he still feels hesitant. The thought of taking you—a complete stranger with a situation that is lost on him—back to his home seems unnerving.

But what other choice does he have at the moment?

“Once we’re there, I can lend you some fresh clothes and get you warmed up, and then I’ll try to order another Uber for you. Maybe I can pay the Uber driver taking us home some extra cash to take you to where you want to go. What do you say?”

As it turns out, the driver refuses to accept any money from Seokjin to send you away once he is done with his previous order.

However, that doesn’t mean that the driver simply chooses to immediately leave and not get involved.

“This place isn’t safe for that poor girl when it’s nighttime. If you have enough sense and goodness in you, you best open up your door for the night, at least. I know bad people, and she doesn’t have the looks for it,” the driver says, right after he blatantly said no to Seokjin’s request even when he was offered double the payment he was charged with for his trip home.

“Though I can be wrong, so you keep your baby girl away from her until you’re sure she’s safe to be around,” the driver adds, as he glances over Seokjin’s shoulder. Seokjin turns to do the same, watching as your back disappears into the side patio, following his little girl who is still chattering about princesses and pretty dresses while guiding you towards the entrance door of your home.

When Seokjin turns back to the driver, he sees the man—who he only realises now to be somewhat older, with greying hair and a wise look in his eyes that helps calm Seokjin—rummaging through the dashboard compartment before handing him a card. “A friend of mine runs a shelter that houses people like her. You can call them up in the morning and get her to stay there if you still can’t find where she lives. They might be able to contact her family.”

Circumstances being as they are, Seokjin decides not to argue with the man and let him drive away, though not before he expresses his gratitude for the advice he was given and the business card in his hand. Seokjin stands at the driveway of his home for a moment longer instead of rushing in, watching the Uber drive away until the taillights fade at the end of the road. He embraces the silence, finding solitude in the lack of sound against the voices inside his head.

Nothing but the sound of the rushing waves hitting the beachside coming from a distance away.

He breathes in the cool night air, wishing that he is somewhere far from this place instead. A different place where the air isn’t so polluted and where he wouldn’t have to worry about stressful client meetings, missing girlfriends, and saving damsels.

Thinking about this makes him want to laugh. It was the same thought that he had years ago which made him decide to buy a property here in the first place; in a neighbourhood closer to the Venice beach instead of at the heart of downtown Los Angeles like many others working in his field would to get closer to work.

He wanted something different, away from the bustling city lifestyle and the traffic, and other things that would have made him feel miserable while still experiencing the best of things from the city. He expected that it would allow him to have some peaceful moments like this whenever he needed it. It was everything that he wished to have when he was cramped up in the studio loft back when he was still living in downtown LA while finishing law school.

And now, he is suddenly looking for something different. Something more. Something that might help silence the chaos happening inside his head.

“Daddy…! You need to open the door!” Ah-ri’s voice echoes from the side patio, and Seokjin quickly brushes his thoughts away.

With a deep inhale of breath, he regains calmness and turns. The business card for the shelter—said to be safe and open for the homeless and women in need of assistance—is now safely secured in his pocket as he walks into his home, joining his chatty girl and the unexpected guest he is welcoming home.

After connecting his phone to its charger in his home office and leaving his daughter in his bedroom, Seokjin makes his way back downstairs to the living room to find you.

He sees you sitting on the settee by the window, looking far out into the night. With your dress spread across the side of the seat and your hair falling loose from the twisted bun, you do look like someone who had just come out of one of his daughter’s storybooks.

Instead of letting you know that he is there, Seokjin stops on the final steps of the staircase, watching you. Mesmerised, he is lost for words.

Because right here, sitting with your eyes looking out the night sky and the lights sparkling across the canal, you seem—peaceful. Unlike before, when you were in complete distress and exhaustion was written all over your face. And for some reason, Seokjin wants to savour this moment. Not knowing the reason why.

But then a soft sound of a sigh, followed by the rise and fall of your chest, breaks the moment, snapping him out of his daze.

Clearing his throat, he makes the rest of his way down and slowly walks up to you. “Hey, there,” he gently says, trying his best not to startle you. A smile comes to his face when you look over with a small, tired smile. “I’m sorry for making you wait. Ari kept trying to talk to me before I could leave her.”

You nod. “It’s fine.” Once again, you glance out the window. From up close, your face seems to light up. The bright lights coming from outside are reflecting on your face. “The view here is lovely.”

“It is,” Seokjin muses, following your gaze, realising only now how rare it has been lately for him to enjoy a serene moment such as this one—the way you are able to find solitude in your darkest hours. “So, um,” he says, shaking his head. “______, was it? Or should I call you Blossom?”

You turn to smile at him again. “Just ______ will be just fine.”

“I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself earlier with all the frenzies,” he says while mustering a smile. To his relief, he can see your shoulders slumping, growing slightly more relaxed in his presence now compared to earlier, and it’s surprisingly making him feel calmer at the same time.

”My name is Seokjin, but feel free to call me Jin. And as my daughter has cleverly introduced herself earlier, her name is Ah-ri,” he adds, with a deeper smile on his face as he talks about his baby girl. “Or Ari. That’s the nickname that she uses since her mother always calls her that way. Perhaps you can ask her again next time which name she’ll be comfortable for you to call her with.”

“I’ll be sure to ask,” you answer with a warm smile, and it thaws his frozen heart a little bit more when your voice softens at the thought of his daughter.

“Listen. My phone is charging right now,” Seokjin begins to explain as he sits on the ottoman right across from you. Keeping both of his arms resting on his knees, he bends forward, putting on the same mask that he usually wears when he has to sit at the center of a mediation during the toughest cases that he ever had to deal with. “I tried to search on the internet about this place you mentioned earlier, Andalasia, but I can’t seem to find it anywhere. Are you sure you can’t remember where you came from, or how you got here?”

Your brows are furrowed deeply as you slowly shake your head. “Everything seems so fuzzy.”

Seokjin nods his head. “And you have no one to call.”

A wry smile appears on your face as you shrug a little at him. “I told you, it’ll be too far for anyone to hear me.”

Once again, he grimaces, knowing that this is going nowhere. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seokjin counts to three before speaking again, hoping that he can swallow down his frustration so he can find a way to solve your problem.

Hopefully, before it becomes his.

“Look, my daughter is worried and you looked lost, so I’m not sure if I can let you go out like”—Seokjin releases a sigh—”this.”

He tries hard to hold back his grimace and fails. Yet the smile on your face remains, which only makes him feel more guilty as he watches you, looking like a lost little dove, engulfed in a fancy wedding dress that looks like the ones painted in his daughter’s storybooks.

“We need to work to find a way back to your home. Isn’t that what you want?” he asks, and you eagerly nod your head. “About tonight, do you really have nowhere to stay?”

“No, I—” you begin to answer, “I don’t even know where I am.” Swallowing hard, you look out the window again to look far in the distance. Across the walkway that lines up starting from Seokjin’s house towards the spread of white that is barely visible from this part of the neighbourhood. “That is a beach, right? And beyond is the ocean?”

Seokjin furrows his brows. “Yes, that’s right.”

Nodding, you give him a somber smile. “Our small house is far from the coastline. It would have taken days, maybe weeks to get to the ocean. Perhaps it would have been different if we owned a carriage,” you stop with a soft chuckle before adding, “Or a horse.”

Seokjin raises his brows, realising that you are sharing a little bit of details about your home and where you came from, answering his questions. Only hearing it doesn’t seem to solve anything. Even knowing that you are not from anywhere near the beach shows what a slim chance it would be for you to come from somewhere close to the neighbourhood.

He doubts that you are even from the same city.

“There’s a hotel nearby. It’s good and clean, and not too expensive,” he starts, hoping that he can avoid letting you stay here, regardless of how badly Ah-ri had wanted to let you stay just to make sure you would be safe for the night. But it only takes a moment for him to get a closer look at you and quickly notice that you have no other belongings with you aside from the clothes on your skin. “I don’t suppose you have any money with you?”

“Money?” You ask as your hands reach down, nervously clutching at the skirt of your dress, “Well, uh—” A grim smile comes to your face as you continue, “You see, I was supposed to get married today, and this dress doesn’t really have pockets in it. I also didn’t think about taking a purse with me since I was, you know—my hand would’ve had to hold a bouquet of flowers when I walked down the aisle.”

You suck a deep breath at the implication that your situation had involved a wedding, and Seokjin has no idea why the sound you make pierces straight deeply into his chest. Then you make it worse when you speak with an innocent, helpless voice of yours, “Anyway, you are right, Sir. I don’t have anything with me. I left all my gold coins back home, since I thought I wouldn’t be needing it today with the wedding ceremony and all.”

Again, dread fills his chest. “Gold coins,” he groans under his breath with a grimace. He closes his eyes, trying to find that sense of calmness deep inside him once again before it slips away. “All right. Breathe.”

Seokjin takes a deep breath as he begins thinking, trying to decide what would be the right thing for him to do. Right at that moment, the words given to him by the Uber driver return to him, removing any doubt that he still has about letting you stay. Looking at you, he realises that the man had been right about one thing.

Seokjin may not know or understand what kind of situation you are in, and all the things that you have been saying sound too ludicrous to be true. But each time, you seem genuine. Nothing that you said and done feels like an act to make a fool out of him or filled with nefarious intent.

And he genuinely doesn’t think he has it in his heart to let you go anywhere when you seem so helpless.

“I guess since it’s late anyway and, well—” He grins. “My daughter might get upset if I let you be on your own when you’re, um—confused.” Rising to his feet, he offers you a hand to help you up and says, “We don’t have a lot of guests, so we only have one guest bedroom. It’s small, but I hope it’ll be adequate for you to have some good rest for the night. What do you say?”

Smiling with relief, you nod and take his hand. “That would be lovely.”

Seokjin feels awkward holding your hand as he guides you upstairs to the guest bedroom. Yet he is glad that he even thought about offering because you keep swaying on your feet as you walk by his side, as if your body is ready to give up anytime soon. By the time he reaches the bedroom, he almost finds it hard to let go of your hand just to be able to open the door for you.

“Here it is. Ah-ri, my daughter, loves to hang out here when I’m not home since it has a good view, so we change the sheets regularly. It’s also clean, and you have easy access to the guest bathroom. It’s also small, but—” He gently explains as he is showing you the room, yet you are too distracted to listen.

Your eyes are no longer on him, but you are looking out the window across the room instead, distracted by the view of the ocean that is more visible from up here. In the night, there is nothing much to see. But the lights coming from the beachside and from the resorts and venues overlooking the ocean are helping you see the rushing waves, even if it is still too far away.

With your attention on the sight before you, you gingerly takes a seat on the small daybed placed by the window, once again getting lost in the view and forgetting Seokjin’s presence.

Shaking his head, Seokjin can only sigh. “Well then, I should, um—” He clears his throat, feeling even more awkward now when you barely pay attention to him, yet pleased that you are able to somehow find some peace here. “I’ll let you rest. Let me check if Ari has found something for you to change into.”

You still have your eyes looking out the window when Seokjin makes a move to leave the room, ready to close the door gently behind him. But before he can escape, you suddenly turn to look at him with a smile. “Thank you, kind Sir. For you and the little princess. This day has been—”

A resigned sigh escapes you. The sound once again pulls at Seokjin’s heartstring that he finds himself completely speechless. But whatever anguish that you have wanes as you lift your gaze at him and smile. “You were the first people to be kind to me. Everyone I met had been—rude, dismissive, and that was before I got my tiara taken away.”

Swallowing his guilt, Seokjin can only nod, feeling solemn. “Welcome to LA,” he says with a bitter chuckle, while you merely tilt your head, looking even more confused that Seokjin can only exhale a deep breath. “I’ll go check on your change of clothes. We can talk more in the morning, once you get some sleep.”

Seokjin’s heart and legs are heavy when he closes the door and walks away. He walks past Ah-ri’s bedroom and walks up another flight of stairs to get to his bedroom, where his daughter is waiting for him to return. Entering the main bedroom, he finds Ah-ri setting up his clean white T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the bed.

“Will this be okay for the Princess, Daddy?” she asks once she notices him entering the room.

Nodding, Seokjin reaches out to ruffle the girl’s hair. “Those will be fine. Thank you for getting them for me while I set our guest to her room.”

Beaming at the praise that she has earned from her dad, Ah-ri begins picking up the clothes. “Then let me take them to her—”

Seokjin quickly stops her. “No, sweetheart. You can see her in the morning. I’m sure the lady—I mean, the Princess is tired, and you’ll only ask her too many questions.”

“But, Dad—”

“Let me take it to her while you get ready for bed.”

Ah-ri pouts. “Fine. But be nice to the Princess. Okay, Daddy?”

“Okay, I promise. You sit tight. You’re sleeping here tonight. You said you wanted me to read you before bed, didn’t you?” Seokjin asks, and he feels guilty when Ah-ri beams at him, looking pleased with his promise without knowing that he only wants to keep her away from you. At least for the night.

You may not be suspicious in his eyes after having that last conversation, but that doesn’t mean he is willing to risk his daughter’s safety around a complete stranger that he is hosting in his own home.

It takes a while for Seokjin to help his daughter to get ready for bed. The girl will not stop talking, jumping from one topic to another so quickly that he can barely keep up—from complimenting your dress, regardless of how tattered it looked, and comparing it with her tutu dress, to how adorable her new pyjamas look.

She is in the middle of choosing which storybook she wants him to read by the time Seokjin finally gets the chance to slip away, carrying with him the change of clothes that he had promised you and a fresh towel for you to clean up. He makes a quick stop to the snack bar downstairs to grab a bottle of mineral water and some snacks for you.

But once he finally returns to the guest bedroom, you have already fallen asleep. Taken over by your exhaustion, no doubt, as he finds you lying asleep on the daybed where you were sitting on when he left you, watching the night view of the ocean and the beachside from afar.

Smiling to himself, he takes a moment to admire the way your dress glitter under the dim lighting before deciding that he would just let you be. With careful footsteps, he enters the room, leaving the clothes on the bed that you had taken no notice of and setting the drink and snacks on the bedside table for you to find when you wake up.

Picking up the blanket from the bed, he covers you with it and gently draws the curtains close, fearing that the sunlight will burn you in the morning. He steps away once he is done, closing the door behind him gently as he walks away, letting you drift off to wherever your dream may take you.

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!

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roxasagainst · 2 months

Text

jujutsu kaisen one-shot masterlist!

WE AINT GOIN NOWHERE!! (update 8 • 26, adding my fav excerpts under the links :3)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Satoru Gojo ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ sour, then sweet (college AU) wc - 1.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ — “What if I told you I bought everything at your bake sale, left a check on the living room table…and we have all the time in the world right now…would your answer still be the same?”

⊹₊⋆ sick for me (ex!boyfriend AU) wc - 4.6k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Yeah, princess? You like that? Like when I pick up the pace and Make. You. Take. It.”

⊹₊⋆ losing all sense (arranged marriage AU) wc - 7.3k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ And just like the cake cutting, when he comes up from between your legs he wipes the corners of his mouth with his fingers and puts them in his mouth.

⊹₊⋆ limitless [draft one], [draft two] (roommates AU) wc (all) - 9.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I. “Say something”, he pleads, his voice soft with an edge of desperation, “Please.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ II. “If you don't want this”, he mutters into your skin, “just say so, baby…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Suguru Geto ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ confession (priest AU) wc - 2k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ Through his robe and the stupid dress your friend picked out, the Lord wasn't the only thing that was rising, and your heartbeat picked up all over again.

⊹₊⋆ you snooze, you lose (bartender AU) wc - 3.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Mhmm…that’s it, sweetheart, make a mess on my fingers like that…you’re doing so good.”

⊹₊⋆ tear you apart (teacher AU) wc - 4.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “Well, you're wrong. I could hear you perfectly fine. Moaning my name like that…what were you even thinking about?”

⊹₊⋆ happy birthday, mrs. president (husband/wife AU) wc - 2.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “G-Gonna make you a mommy, sweetheart…”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Choso Kamo ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ intrusive thoughts (toxic bf AU) wc - 2.8k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “More, baby? C’mon, we talked about this, use your words.”

⊹₊⋆ perfect (rockstar AU) wc - 2.3k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ “‘M glad, babe. But next time, let's not forget to eat dinner before fucking.”

⊹₊⋆ full moons and mouths (vampire hunter AU) wc - 5.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ His hands grip your hips harder, his movements rough and demanding. Wanting more. Needing more.

⊹₊⋆ ??? (babysitter AU) wc - ???

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Ryomen Sukuna ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚.

⊹₊⋆ cherry waves I, II , III and IV (heian era AU) wc (all) - 9.9k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ I. “You like that? Yeah you do, fuckin’ slut, takin’ me so well…f-fuck…’n so tight too…”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ II. “And I'd be in a much better mood if you gave me a kiss, my love.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ III. “Letting me fuck this pretty face of yours…shit…I love you…”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ IV. “Kuna…we've ruined four perfectly good kids by spoiling them all the time.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅「 ✦ Toji Fushiguro ✦ 」.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

⊹₊⋆ sweet nothin' (neighbor AU) wc - 3.7k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─“Name sounds good comin’ out of that pretty mouth – mhmm – wanna hear it again…”

⊹₊⋆ serpent's kiss (obsessive AU) wc - 2.5k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ You're the prettiest when he's in control also and especially when you moan and scream his name like it's the only thing in your vocabulary.

⊹₊⋆ don't tell mom! (stepdad AU) wc - 3.1k

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ ...‘M givin’ you one more chance to call me ‘daddy’ and behave, or I'm gonna take care of it my way.”

⊹₊⋆ killshot (bodyguard AU) wc - ???

⊹₊⋆ companion playlist here!

⊹₊⋆ enable my shitty writing by sending a ko-fi!

⊹₊⋆ uploads might be a little slower considering I'm writing a book!

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onlyseokmins · 6 months

Text

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: eventual smut (minors dni!), trigun!au action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, death, gore, guns, injuries, destruction, mentions of knives, weapons, violence, creepy monsters and creatures, ptsd, moral ambiguities, dark topics tbh, smoking, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, platonic (but not really) nakedness, reader is operating on a short fuse bc I believe u have to be built different for this universe, their communication is abt to be as poor as the plant life 💀 Seungcheol kinda his own warning imho, biggest apology to chan, and we all love seok sm bc he sings abt total slaughter 🙇🏻‍♀️ WC: 19.5k of 32.7k | Part 2 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I feel like the boys may seem ooc but I had a lot of fun putting this together 😌 Thank you Summer and Isa for hosting this collab and your utmost patience in me finally writing my piece! I hope everyone enjoys this and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!!

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin.

The cities' great militaries. Bounty hunters. Bandits on the roads. Criminals escaping death row. Prowling pirate gangs. His twin brother. You.

Though you reckoned your "want" for him was a bit… different from others. Well, at least you hope so, goddamn it.

You shiver.

At first, you wanted him just like the mass majority would one day as well — dead. The deed swiftly carried out with a silver pistol aimed at his temple.

Besides, your blood-thirst began before the destruction of July. Unlike most, who angrily shake their fists at the gaping crater on the fifth moon in the spirit of pure vengeance. Yes, the tragic incident of the great city that upped the bounty dangling over his head like a noose to a sixty billion double dollars reward. But Little Ivywood was the first of many places that would end up reduced to ruins after Lee Seokmin set foot there.

Wiped off the map. Wiped from history. Wiped from existence. But never forgotten. Especially not by the small town's only known survivor — you.

Your earliest memories contain little about the events that led up to being left on the doorstep of Little Ivywood's unofficial orphanage. How could they when you were just a baby? One swaddled in a ratty cloth weighted down by a rusted pistol. There was just one simple hint to your past — scribbled nearly illegible on a torn piece of paper dotted with blood — and could only be what the nuns had to assume was your name.

At least that's how Sister Meryl relayed the tale whenever asked, her hands clasped tightly together in praise and gratitude to the Saint that delivered you to them unharmed. The irony, considering Sister Lucia always looks like she'll faint just like the day she opened the convent's side door. It wasn't an easy sight to see or recall, the image of a wailing infant mouthing on the empty muzzle of a gun.

Neither versions of your origin story could be that far off thanks to the scar marring your left hand and the gun held tightly in your right. You've had both for as long as you can remember. And as you grew and changed, so did they.

The scar shrunk and faded through the years, seemingly forgotten amongst a myriad of other markings littered across your skin. Over time, the pistol's rusted parts were repaired or replaced and soon, its shine and character returned. Restored to its former glory while forging a new beginning ahead with a different owner.

But there were two things that stayed constant throughout your years at the orphanage. The first was your birth name. Not even the nuns, who generally loved bestowing scriptural monikers as if they were granting rich titles to unnamed orphans, tried to change yours. The second was a person who you still refuse to call by his baptismal name — Chan.

He helped you, became an assistant of sorts. Originally just some snot-nosed, beanpole of a fellow orphan you didn't really pay much attention to. A scared kid who cried way too loudly even after you'd even taken the time to demonstrate that the gun was safe after he'd been the one continuously pestering to see it. Very much to Sister Constance's chagrin, since it all went down in the middle of confessional time.

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

Lucky, because by acquiring bravery, Chan could discover his innate talent for gunsmithing. Lanky, noodle arms transformed into well-formed, sinewy muscles. The soft baby skin of his hands roughened with callouses as he whittled away near the convent's underground furnace. He'd spend hours down there, returning with sweat, grime, and charcoal smudged all over his skin after melting together the random metal objects found by digging beneath the basement's unfinished floor.

The Sisters disliked dirt and grime all over the children and tracked through the doors. But it was hard to keep clean out in the middle of a sandy desert. Complaints dwindled thanks to the fellow orphans who would stop their mischief to watch Chan work. And as time passed, his shoulders broadened further, his voice began to deepen, his dark hair grew longer, and those brown eyes started to sparkle with something different from simple, fleeting passion — it was a dream.

The excitable boy would tell you all about it under the stars. Late into the nights when you searched for what had to be remnants of Earthen materials from the Big Fall, he'd chatter on and on.

"Once we're actual adults," — free from the guardianship requirement provided from the orphanage — "we're gonna leave Lil Ivywood behind and explore the great wastelands of Gunsmoke!"

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

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faebhaal · 6 months

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“Hey, I’ve got you. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

@devotedhero

The scream that rips from her throat could put any banshee to shame. Tears streak her cheeks even as he takes hold of her.

A normal arrow or three to the leg would have been manageable. But these? These were iron tipped. And the second they ripped through her skin, the burning began. Flesh bubbles, looking more akin to an acid scorch rather than an arrow laceration. Blood boils and starts to run in rivers down her legs. The pain and the effect of the iron is so strong, she can't even move her legs, much less any other part of her body.

"Do something!" She chokes out in a snap. Any other time she might a bit more polite about it. But the longer the arrows stay lodged in her flesh, the more and quicker the effects will spread, like necrosis. "Pull them out!" Comes a sob, her breathing uneven.

#devotedhero #sick like me (companion au)#/ thank you for this!! 🧡

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spoopdeedoop · 7 months

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hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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thescarletnargacuga · 3 months

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THE UNSEEN

A Harlequin AU oneshot ft. my OC

AU and ART credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

WARNING: heavy swearing, intense violence, blood, death

~~~

"Well, that was a fucking bore." Pomni flicked the charm into the air and caught it as she walked with her Caine-mandated blimp companion, Bubble. She had been sent on a mission by Ragatha to retrieve the charm, and she was sorely disappointed to find it unguarded by anything. She could just take it and leave. Yawn.

Caine's voice crackled through on Bubble's speaker. "I know, I'm sorry you didn't get the fight you wanted. If it's any consolation, we can spar when you get back."

Pomni rolled her eyes and pocketed the charm. "It's not the same, I need something I can tear apart with my bare hands." She clenched her mechanical hand tightly, and the metal creaked under the pressure of her grip.

"...You can tear me apart for your own sick enjoyment." Caine mumbled under his breath.

"What?" Pomni wasn't sure she heard him correctly.

"He said-" Bubble started to say before Caine cut him off.

"NOTHING IMPORTANT! I'm just disappointed for you, my dear, that's all."

Pomni took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. She kept her head on a swivel, especially when things were quiet. The lands outside the city were barren and vast. Scattered war ruins were half buried by time and the elements. The wind blew loose dust in wisps at her feet. The horizon was most often empty of anything particularly interesting, but today something unusual caught her attention.

"Hey, Bubble. Can you get a read on that?" She pointed to the anomaly in the distance.

Bubble hovered higher into the air, and with a mechanical click, a telescope stuck out from his capsule. "Hmmm, looks like smoke."

"Smoke?" Pomni repeated and squinted. "Were there is smoke, there is fire, and were there is fire, there is action!" She took off at a full sprint towards the smoke.

Bubble puttered along behind her and his speaker came to life with Caine's voice again. "Wait, what? Bubble, what's happening?"

"She found some action, boss." Bubble reported with a smile.

"Wonderful." Caine sarcastically replied. "What did she find?"

"Black smoke."

"Black smoke..? Is something on fire?"

"Not that I saw." Bubble would shrug if he had shoulders.

"Wait..." Caine thought outloud. "POMNI! STOP!" His warning came through in time for her to skid to a stop a few hundred feet from what she thought was smoke. She saw no fire. No puppets. Only thick black mist that didn't burn away under the bright mid-day sun. It held fast like a barrier around a wide area of the abandoned landscape, and she could just see the top of an old ruin towering over the mist at the center.

She groaned at Caine's interference, and was even more annoyed with herself that she actually listened. "WHAT, Caine?"

"Pomni, I'm going to need you to describe exactly what you're seeing."

"Uh...it's some weird mist? Pitch black, super thick. Can't see through it at all. Do you know what the fuck this is?"

Caine's voice came through clear and serious. Every word held weight. "Listen to me very carefully. Do NOT go near that mist. It's extremely dangerous, even for someone like you."

Her interest was peaked. "You don't say? What's in there?"

He could hear the smile in her voice. "This is serious! There is an unbound construct in there that uses the mist as a cover. The locals call it The Unseen, but I think a more appropriate name is The Bladed Beast of Steel and Shadow."

"You know what is looks like?" She was sceptical.

"Vaguely, I was busy running for my life, but I am the only person that has encountered it and lived."

Pomni laughed. "Well, if you can say hello and walk away, it can't be THAT strong, now can it?"

"THIS IS NO TIME TO ATTACK MY EGO!" His voice cracked with desperation. "The point is, under NO circumstances should you seek out and try to fight what's in there! It WILL kill you! It's not like anything you have fought before!"

"So, what you're saying is, seek out and fight what's in there because it's not like anything I've seen before? Fuck yeah, I'm sold." She unsheethed her sword and advanced towards the mist.

"POMNI, NO!!"

"Pomni, yes." She grinned and licked her teeth. If this creature was half as epic as Caine made it sound, this was about to be a good day.

"POMNI! POMNI!!" Caine kept calling but she didn't respond.

"She's gone, boss." Bubble said as he watched her disappear into the veil.

"DAMN IT ALL!" A crashing sound in the background suggested that Caine had thrown something in frustration. "Stay right where you are, Bubble. I'm on my way. DON'T GO IN THAT MIST!"

"You got it, boss." Bubble lowered himself to the ground to conserve power for his tracking beacon.

Day became moonless night the moment Pomni fully entered the mist. The air reeked of unknown chemicals, her nose burned as she breathed. She tucked in her bell and pulled out some scrap cloth she kept for emergency bandages. She tied the cloth around her face, it helped some, but the air still felt corrosive. Her eyes watered on top of not being able to see more than a foot in front of her face.

She smiled under her impromptu mask. "Finally, a challenge." The uneven ground threatened to crunch under her footfalls, but her light step was just enough to maintain stealth.

She listened intently for any movement. Silence was all that greeted her as she slowly made her way through the abyss. She froze when something came into view. It looked like a puppet. It laid face down motionless on the ground, or, at least, half of it was. The other half was missing. As she continued, she found more bodies. Parts and pieces of varying puppets scattered the landscape. She stepped slowly and carefully over them.

She came to a wall of the ruin she had seen the top of. It was covered in claw marks as thick as her arm. Large dart looking projectiles were stuck in random patterns, some pinning unfortunate puppets to the wall. Her heart thrummed with anticipation, her body bristled on high alert. She gripped her sword tighter and clenched her mechanical fist.

A small piece of crumbling wall gave way and she looked to her right. Two pinprick lights looked at her from the darkness. "Ha!" She lunged and her sword struck right between the lights. She pulled back and the head of a pawn rolled towards her. It was already dead, the lights were on a helmet that has some power left in it. All she accomplished was give away her position. "Fuck."

Something unseen struck her with the force of a battering ram from behind and she went flying. She ragdolled into a pile of bodies and got up fast. The ground shook under the weight of a large obscured creature charging her. She saw two lights again, but this time, they were MUCH higher up and glowed like molten gold. As it approached, the golden glow spread to large fanned blades on either side of the creature's front legs. It pounced and she dodged the first strike. Followed immediately by a second strike she diverted with her sword, but only just, the force of the hit nearly tore her sword clean out of her grasp.

The creature kept her on her back foot, dodging a strike from a giant, razor sharp beak-like maw. She punched its face with her mechanical arm, and it reared back with an ear splitting, screeching roar. This gave her the precious seconds she needed to make distance between her and it. She held out her mechanical arm at what she could see of the creature, and her arm transformed into the barrel of a large gun. "Z says, eat shit!" She braced against the blast of the canon she had for an arm. An explosive incendiary round hit the creature in the shoulder. The air pressure from the explosion dispersed the mist around it, letting in some sunlight, and she finally got a good look at it.

It was horrific. An enormous quadrupedal metal construct covered in dried oil and rust bared its glowing blades at her. Slanted spikes covered its back to a heavy woven chain tail with a flared, spikey end. Black mist poured from its maw and chest, cloaking the area in shadow. It's eyes once again being all she saw.

"Holy. Shit." Pomni was THRILLED. This thing was everything Caine said it would be and more. She readied herself as she stared down the creature. "Come on, you motherfucker! Show me what you got!"

The creature roared and lunged. Its speed made the light of it's eyes streak in the darkness. It lashed out with its blades, she dodged. As it passed her, it swung it's tail, which has no glowing parts to warn her. It struck Pomni in the stomach, a single spike going clean through her abdomen and out her back. The creature whipped around and she ripped off the spike and flew into the ruin wall. The wall crumbled from impact and she fell with the rubble to the ground. She barely had time to get up before it was on her again, bringing down its claws. She rolled away and shot at it again with her arm. She was closer to the creature this time and made her own ears ring from the explosion but it got the thing to back off.

She got up and ran into the ruins. She tore off her mask to spit out the blood collecting in her throat. Pain racked her body and she braced herself against the furthest wall from the opening. She checked the hole in her abdomen, and she stuffed it with her old mask to stop the bleeding. "Fuck, that hurt."

A sudden shake knocked pieces of the ceiling loose and she jumped out of the way. The creature repeatedly slammed its body against the ruins, reaching inside to claw at her. There were broken stairs going up. She transformed her mechanical arm back into a hand and used its grappling hook feature to get herself up to the next floor. The creature dug desperately into the ruins on the second floor as well, so she went higher.

Looking out of a broken gap in the wall, she could see the glowing parts of the creature trying to break through the wall. Her knees started to shake. "What the fuck?" Her sword arm was trembling. "Knock it off!" She growled at herself. "Come on, think! There's got to be something..."

Talking to herself was helping subdue the shakes. "There were no spikes on the back of the creature's neck. So if I aim for the head, I may save myself from being skewered a second time. ...this is still a crazy idea." She jumped.

She came down on top of the creature's head and held on for dear life. The creature thrashed and tried to claw at her. It got in one solid slash in her leg but she held on. She plunged her sword into one of the creature's eyes. Glowing gold fluid spewed out and the creature yowled in agony. The fluid slicked her grasp and she let go before she got flung off uncontrollably.

She tucked and rolled away as the creature pawed at it's damaged eye. She took the opportunity to transform her arm back into a gun and take aim. The leaking flow made the creature easier to target, it poured down the neck and over the chest. She could see partially exposed mechanics from her previous close range shot. The core inside the creature was the source of the golden hour glow. "Gotcha." She fired her third round.

The creature was struck square in the chest, shrapnel exploded in every direction. Pomni covered her face as flying bits of metal cut at her body. The creature screeched and screamed and fell to the ground, gold fluid pooling around it.

Pomni kept her gun on the creature as she caught her breath. She took a few cautious steps forward. The creature didn't move. She grinned. "Fuck, yeah! Take THAT! Some creature of legend, you were! I've have worse fights with Bubble!" She laughed.

A blue flash of light next to her made her swing her gun around and she was looking at Caine. "Hey, you!" She greeted smugly and lowered her gun arm. "You're too late to join the party. I've already killed it."

Caine was out of breath. He had used a large amount of his blink ability to get here as fast as possible. He looked from the bleeding Pomni in front of him to the broken creature. "You...you what? No. That's impossible."

"Look at it and weep, tooth man. I should have made a bet with you." She transformed her arm and sheathed her sword.

Caine examined the surroundings. The mist wasn't clearing, it still emanated from the half glowing creature. The fluid around it stopped flowing out. He grabbed Pomni by her upper sword arm. "No... You didn't kill it. You just pissed it off."

The creature got up suddenly and charged the both of them. Caine blinked with Pomni to the far side of the ruins behind the creature. He took a knee. Between the travel to get to her and then blinking with her, he was feeling a bit drained.

"It was playing dead!? That bitch!" Pomni brought her weapons back out.

"Never trust anything is dead until you're holding it's heart in your hand, Pomni." Caine advised as he strategized. "How many rounds you got left?"

"Two" She cocked her gun arm. "And I took out one of it's eyes."

"What is it with you and eyes? First ragatha and now this?"

"Focus!" Pomni hissed. She watched for the creature. She could see it's faded glow searching for them.

"You have the charm?" Caine asked.

"Yeah." Pomni took it out of her pocket and handed it to him.

He took out a tool Pomni didn't recognize and used it to attach the charm to a metal band. He clamped it on her wrist and she felt a rush of energy.

"There. That'll help." He put his tool away.

"What is this?"

"Ragatha didn't say? It's a stamina charm. You could run laps around that thing now."

Pomni grinned. "Let's test it out then." She vaulted over the low wall they were hiding behind and followed the dim glow away from the ruin. Caine snuck out behind her and kept back a bit. Pomni kept low and quiet as she aimed at the glow. Caine readied his strings to either use against the creature or pull Pomni back. He wanted to avoid using his blink, as taking a passenger took a lot of energy and could render him unconscious if he overused it. Pomni stopped and so did Caine. She fired and hit what she was aiming for.

The target exploded into dust, but it was just that. Dust. She'd hit a rock with the creature's life blood smeared on it. They realized too late it was a trap.

The creature rushed Pomni and clamped it's sharp maw on her gun arm. Pomni was lifted into the air and thrashed like a toy. Caine activated his strings and the near invisible strands of energy connected to the creature. He struggled to hold it. "Drop her!" He commanded and the creature barely opened its maw. "I. Said. DROP! HER!" He shouted and forced the strings with all his might. The creature slowly opened its maw and Pomni fell.

She landed on her feet and rushed away. Caine couldn't hold any longer and the creature broke free. It went after Caine. He dove out of the way of it's deadly blades. Pomni took aim but realized her gun was bent to shit and would explode if she tried to use it. "Fuck!" She tried transforming it, but the bent metal refused. "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!!" She released the dead weight of her useless gun and it detached from her shoulder.

Caine was dodging for his life, trying to stay in the creature's blind spot. He used his cane to stop a claw attack and cracks formed along its shaft. That's when Pomni came running up a pile of puppets to a broken wall and then launching herself at the creature. She aimed for its other eye, but the creature slashed at her and it's blades found purchase. She was carved navel to nose right up the front. She slammed to the ground and didn't get up.

"POMNI!" Caine signaled Bubble and the little blimp came down to his location. Bubble dropped small bombs on the creature whilst taunting it, giving Caine enough time to pick up Pomni and emergency blink as far as he could.

He collapsed to his knees from energy exhaustion and nearly dropped Pomni, but held her tight to his chest. She hung limply in his arms. "Pomni? Pomni, dear, say something." He opened her clothes and checked her wounds. The creature's blades had cut deep, all the way to her heart chamber. Her heart barely glowed with life. "No, no, no, stay with me. You're going to be okay, you hear me? You cling to life like the stubborn warrior I know you are!" He blinked away tears as he frantically dug for tools in his pockets. He was woefully unprepared. He hadn't expected things to go this bad this quick.

Bubble couldn't keep the creature distracted long. He ran out of bombs and flew away when the creature whipped it's tail and shot spikes at him. "Watch out, boss! The angry scrap pile is coming!"

Caine heard Bubble over his com and picked up Pomni. He had to find more cover. Even being surrounded by shadow, it's likely that thing could see through its own cloak. He ran as fast as could with her to a divet in the ground covered by victims of the creature. He slid inside the hiding spot and held Pomni close as he heard the creature roar. The ground rumbled as it grew closer. He held his breath.

The creature slowed, scanning the area. Fluid slowly dripped from its eye and chest. It growled with frustration, Caine could feel the bassy resonance in his chest. After a tense moment of the creature lurking near the hide away, it moved on.

Caine exhaled sharply and peeked out to see the glow of the creature fade into the blackness. He turned his attention to Pomni and held her cheek gently. She'd look like she was sleeping if it wasn't for all the blood. He brushed her hair from her face with his thumb. "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise." On an emotional whim, he gently kissed her forehead. Then he set to work on trying to stabilize her. He used his tool to remove a part of his own heart. It was excruciating, but he got it done and attached it to her damaged heart. The glow to her heart increased. "Atta girl." He smiled.

Caine racked his brain for ideas. They could try sneaking out, but without knowing the creature's location, that was very risky. He could try blinking them all the way out of the mist, but that would knock him out for sure and they would be easy pickings for the creature. He could try fighting it himself, but he knew he was no match alone. He whispered into his com. "Bubble? You still out there?"

"Yeah, boss. Just hanging out at the top of the ruin. You should see this view, so many war remnants."

"That's nice, Bubble. Listen, I need you to get help. Get everyone! Bring them back to this location and warn them of what's inside! Make sure they're prepared!"

"Sure thing, boss! Be back in a jiffy!" Bubble flew off out of mobile radio range.

Caine and Pomni pomni were left in the dark, eerily silent mist. He muffled a cough from the toxic air. Pomni stirred in his arms.

"Caine..?" Her voice was weak.

"Shhh, save your strength, my dear. We're safe for now but we have to be quiet. That thing could come back around at any time."

She could barely move, her whole body felt like it was made of lead. "I heard you..."

"What?"

"You said to hold on..."

Caine's eyes were soft. "And I'm so glad you did. Who would be a pain in my ass if you weren't around?"

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes to rest. He settled himself as best her could and tried to get some rest as well, who knows how long it would be before help arrived.

"Caine!? Caine! Can you hear me!"

Caine woke with a start to a woman's voice on his radio. He fumbled with his com and answered. "Ragatha! I can't tell you how good it is to hear your voice!"

"Is Pomni okay!?"

"She's alive! Weak, but alive! Where are you?"

"We're just outside the mist. Bubble said there was, uh...angry trash attacking you?"

Caine facepalmed. "Yes, but not entirely accurate. You've heard of the Unseen?"

"THE- WHAT!? WHY ARE YOU EVEN IN THERE??"

"Feel free to ask a certain combat harlequin when she wakes up." Caine said dryly.

"Figures." Ragatha said with exasperation. "What should we do, Caine? I have Z, Kingr and Jax with me."

"Jax? Really?"

"Yeah, he- HEY!"

Jax's voice came over the radio. "Sup, gums. Heard you needed backup... and I was promised payment. So, were is the little beastie?"

"Somewhere in the mist. DO NOT underestimate it. It's fast for it's size and intelligent. Pomni took out its right eye, use that to your advantage, and it's chest is heavily damaged. Go for the core!"

"Sounds easy enough." Jax's dismissiveness made Caine's skin crawl but he didn't say anything.

Ragatha's voice came back. "Give- give it here! Sorry, about that. Okay, Z, Kingr and Jax will go find the creature and I will follow Bubble to your location. I brought your tool kit!"

"You're a saint, Ragatha." Caine sighed with relief.

"I know." She said cheerily and Caine chuckled. He caressed Pomni's face. "Did you hear that? We're getting out of here." She continued to rest.

After fifteen minutes, the creature's roar mingled with shouting. Caine carefully looked out and saw flashes of gold from an intense battle not too far from where he was hiding. The familiar puttering sound of a blimp propeller brought Ragatha to him and she held Pomni as he got to work on Pomni's heart.

Jax somersaulted through the air and brought his hammer down on the creature's head. It's maw left an indent in the ground and cracked from the force of the blow. It lashed out but the agile rabbit animatronic easily weaved out of the way. "Too slow, sucker!"

His distraction gave Kinger a chance to grab the beast. His large mechanical hands grabbed it's front legs, forcing the creature to stand on its hind legs. It's underbelly exposed, Z came in and pile-drived the creature. The force of the blow knocked the creature out of Kingr's hands and it retreated.

"Aw, come on! You running from this fight, you coward!?" Jax called after it.

Kingr and Z did not let their guard down. Even more black mist filled the space. "The Unseen is getting desperate." Said Kingr, back to back with Z. "Watch yourselves."

A flash of gold slashed in front of Kingr. One of his arms was cut, but still usable. The creature disappeared back into the mist before he could retaliate. Another flash of gold, this time slashing Z's leg. They didn't even react, they stayed focused. The next time the creature came in for a strike, they brought both of their fists down in front of them. They timed it just right to smash one of the creature's fanned blades. It screeched and ran off again. "There...that should give us a second." They said flatly.

It was only just. The creature came back, again and again. Tearing one of Z's smaller arms off. Slashing Kingr across the front. Snapping the handle of Jax's hammer.

"This isn't working!" Jax yelled and threw his broken hammer. He kept close to Kingr.

Kinger was locked in. He figured out the creature's pattern. He was next and he knew where it was coming from. The creature lunged and he got it by the neck with his good hand. He used its momentum to flip it end over end and slam it to the ground belly up. Z was on top of it immediately. They started prying open the chest cavity to expose the creature's core. It thrashed and clawed at Z but they powered through and reached for the creature's core. The creature used its back legs to throw Z off of and clawed Kingr's arm until he was forced to let go. Heavily wounded, the creature ran off and didn't come back. A trail of gold liquid in it's wake.

The three fighters caught their breath and Jax had to have the final word. "Aaaand stay away!" He gasped. He was glad that was over, for now. They carefully made their way to the others. Jax jumped in the hold while Kingr and Z stood guard.

"Hey, you done in here yet? We're done with the monster." Jax laid back, doing his best to look unimpressed, despite the marks on him.

"You killed it??" Ragatha asked, shocked.

"Well, not exactly, but it won't be bothering us anymore."

"If it's not dead. We're not done here." Caine said as he focused on his work.

"Caine-" Ragatha tried.

"I don't want to hear it. I want to display it's core in my study." He said with cold determination. He found renewed strength in knowing for certain that Pomni was going to be fine. Now, he wanted that thing dead.

"You trophy hunting now?" Jax asked.

Caine didn't get a chance to answer. Pomni was waking up.

"What I do..?" Pomni opened her eyes to see Ragatha holding her, Caine wrist deep in her chest and Jax lounging in the background. "Wha..?"

Ragatha smiled down at Pomni. "Hey there, sleepy head. Heard you picked a nasty fight."

"Yeah...it was awesome."

Ragatha giggled. "I bet you were."

"She was." Caine said. "And she still is, thanks to you." He finished and carefully closed Pomni's chest.

"And you. You're the one that really knows your way around the tools. I'm still learning."

"Quite the learning experience." He huffed.

"Oh yeah, she really puts us through it." Ragatha shook her head.

"Tell me about it." Caine finished packing up his tools.

"Can you two stop talking like I'm not right here?" Pomni said with a bit more clarity in her voice.

Caine and Ragatha look at each other. "Nah." They said in unison.

Jax gagged loudly. "If you three are done being weird, the creature awaits."

Pomni sat up. She ached all over, but she'd power through it. "Where's my sword?" She asked.

"Oh, I brought your spare." Ragatha handed it to Pomni. "Figured you might have lost the first in the fight when you...when you...lost." She awkwardly finished.

Pomni held it in her remaining arm. "Let's kill that motherfucker."

"Hell, yeah!" Jax cheered, only to be shushed by the others. Even Pomni.

"Can you not give away our location!?" Ragatha hissed.

"Wait? I said it's not coming back. It ran off scared. You'll have to find it."

"No, I won't." Pomni stood and climbed out of the hole. "That thing is a hunter. Hunters don't let prey get away." She looked into the darkness with steeled determination. She saw the trail the creature left when it fled, and started following it. Caine and Ragatha at her sides. The others followed closely behind.

Pomni walked as though she could see into the darkness ahead. She was in tune with the fellow hunter, now that she understood what she was up against. She stopped. They were close to the center ruin, whose top disappeared above the darkness. She looked up in time to see the creature leap from the fourth story.

"MOVE!" She shouts and everyone scattered.

The creature landed with a heavy boom than broke the ground. It furiously swiped at anyone within reach. Kinger being the slowest, he was slashed, but he grabbed the creature by the tail and pulled until he tore it off. Ragatha threw her spear and stuck it in the creature's neck. Z tackled the beast head on, holding the unbent blade wing out of reach. The creature snapped wildly, but Jax jumped on it's head and double stomped repeatedly. "Come on, Pomni! Get this over with already!" He shouted incredulously as he dug his heels into the creature's skull.

Pomni ran forward and attacked the core directly. Her sword piece a few tubes, letting loss a cascade of gold fluid, and the creature howled in pain and desperation. She heard Caine whistle. She looked to see him on the third floor. He held out his hand and made a gesture as though he were puppeteering. She nodded. "Get that thing on it's back!" She shouted and jumped with all her might.

Between Z and Kingr, the creature was laid out. Jax and Ragatha stayed clear.

Pomni felt herself go higher than she could naturally jump. She flipped in the air and dove straight for the creature's chest sword first. She and the creature locked eyes the second before impact.

"I win." She smirked and plunged her whole sword into the creature's core.

With a final gutteral groan, The Unseen died.

The black mist faded away to reveal the sky in twilight. Stars pinpricked the sky amongst deep shades of purple and red. The golden sun setting it's final farewell. The mist cleared the creature's hunting grounds, it looked like a warzone with the amount of bodies piled and strewn about.

Pomni pulled her sword free of the core and started hacking away at the neck. She decapitated it and unsuccessfully attempted to drag the head along with her, but Kingr got it for her. "To the victor go the spoils." He pronounced.

"That fucker's head is going over the mantle." Pomni said as she cleaned her blade.

Caine blinked over from the building and immediately started examining the creature's core. "Fascinating. Z, would you mind carrying this back? Not the whole thing. Just the core."

Z shrugged and pulled the core free of the creature's chest cavity. At the very center, still faintly humming, was a gold crystal.

"I very much look forward to studying this." Caine rubbed his hands together.

"Good for you, where's my pay?" Demanded Jax.

"Oh, I forgot you were here." Caine deadpanned. "We'll talk at the manor."

Ragatha went over to check on Pomni. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. A bit stiff, but I'll live. And thanks...things would've ended badly if you and the others hadn't shown up." She tried to be nonchalant, but her voice quivered ever so slightly.

Ragatha put her hand on Pomni's shoulder and smiled. "Hey, I'll always come when you call. No matter what. You can count on me."

Pomni gave her a reserved smile in return and put her hand on Ragatha's.

Later that evening, Pomni laid on the table in Caine's workshop. He was putting the final repairs on her body, new arm and heart. The piece of himself he used as an emergency replacement stood out amongst the rest he debated what to do with it. It was fine where it was and he could make himself a new part, but...what if she found it and didn't want it there? Found it violating? It wouldn't be right to keep it from her. His gentleman's code wouldn't let him. He woke her up.

Pomni looked down at her still exposed heart. "Uh...you done?"

"No. I wanted to ask you something." He pointed to the mismatched piece on her heart. "When you were...dying. I used a part of my own heart to keep you alive." He pointed to his own, a piece obviously missing. "It was an emergency, and I didn't know what else to do and I understand if it's weird to you that it's there but it does it's job so-"

"Caine."

He stopped talking, looking away.

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

She sat up and gently held his chin so he'd look at her. "Yeah, you gave up a literal part of yourself to save my life. I can respect that."

"I'd give up anything for you." It slipped out before he could stop himself. "Uh, except drinking. I won't do that." He tried to play it off as a joke but the look she was giving him told him she saw right through it.

She leaned in and kissed his bottom teeth. "Thank you."

The kiss left a shockwave of chills all the way to his toes. It was short, sweet, simple and he loved absolutely everything about it. He could barely form a response. "Anytime."

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