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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

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Simmer #3

CH.3 Sunny Side Up | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Talking to Eddie became a little easier after that night. Just a little. You greeted each other on morning shifts with tired nods, maybe a small ‘hi’ from you, a grunt from him that you’d learned not to take offence to. You’d watched time and time again as Jonathan brought his coffee to the kitchen, handing Eddie a mocha full of chocolate syrup and the boy received another grunt in thanks too.

The diner became more familiar, as did your colleagues and it made your heart ache a little when you realised you melted into their routines, their little world as easily as they did with each other. Steve knew your favourite song, liked to turn it up when it came on the radio, pointing at you with enough fanfare to make you flush when he sang the lyrics into the end of a wooden spoon.

Robin had invited you to hers, an unofficial girls night after a Sunday late shift that became a habit without meaning to. You shared her apartment space the way she shared yours, leftover pyjama shirts in each other's drawers, rented movies swapped between television sets. And at times, when she was home from college, Nancy would join you both, curled on the loveseat with Robin as they listened to your horror stories from Chicago.

Argyle would offer you rides to work, always passing you on the days you missed the bus, pulling over his brightly painted van with a lazy grin and a yell of “jump in my ‘lil Chicago pizza.”

It was easy, comfortable, a slow kind of life that you craved in the city, the long days and quiet nights that you were more suited to. Hawkins was far from the white picket fence dream, but you loved your little apartment with its view of the cornfields, the long road out of town that you knew took you to work. And when the bus stopped on Sundays and you walked to the diner, you’d pass that old garage the same way you did on your first day in town and wave to Wayne.

It was easy. It was simple.

That Tuesday, you clocked in early after swapping a shift with Nancy, the heat rolling into the side door with you as the sun rose. It was the earliest you’d started and the diner was still quiet, a lack of customers between the midnight hours that the truckers frequented and the breakfast rush. The radio was up louder than usual, the smell of fresh bread coming from the ovens, a huge bowl of batter on the counter beside some chopped strawberries, glittering with sugar.

“Hey! Hey what's the matter with you, feel right? Don't you feel right, baby?”

You could see Jonathan in the front of the diner, setting clean tables with new cutlery, Argyle trailing behind him - not necessarily helping, but definitely talking animatedly about something. Jim was in his office, groaning over receipts and copies of everyone’s vacation requests, two empty mugs of coffee in front of him. You weren’t sure where Ed—

“Jesus, watch it!”

You gasped on instinct as someone collided with your shoulder, a dull pain that wasn’t all that sore but scared you nonetheless. Eddie was glaring at you, holding a hot tray of morning rolls aloft with a dish towel.

“I could’ve fucking burnt you,” he snapped, setting them down on his station with a clatter.

You winced, an apology on your tongue, already tasting sour. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I didn’t hear you say corner, or, or door or—”

You watched as Eddie’s frown disappeared momentarily, a soft drop of his expression that made you realise at the same time he did, that he didn’t give any of those warnings at all. You thought he’d apologise then, maybe back track with a rare smile but instead his scowl deepened and he set about pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“Stumbling ‘round like a baby deer, man,” Eddie huffed, his voice low, like you maybe weren’t meant to hear. But you did. “Gonna end up seriously hurtin’ yourself— or someone else. Not supposed to be in the damn kitchen, told you you weren’t made out f—”

Tears burned the corners of your eyes at the first sign of conflict but your heart pounded and you let yourself get wound up. You squared your shoulders, sucked in a breath and let the sting of your eyes and the lump in your throat fuel you. “Hey!” You snapped, only sounding a little watery, a little soft. “It wasn’t— it wasn’t my fault. You’re supposed to tell someone you’re coming if you’re holding something.” You blew out a breath, acutely aware of how Eddie was watching you with raised brows. “Especially something hot. And I don’t stumble.”

You glared right back at the boy, hoping you looked as intimidating as he did, throwing your hands on your hips for good measure until you felt too much like your mom and dropped them back by your side. You squirmed in the silence, pulling self-consciously at the hem of your uniform dress, still trying to keep your lips in an annoyed flat line, your brows as turned down as Eddie’s. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing a pound of butter into a huge mixing bowl. It made the station shake with a thud and he turned his back to you before he spoke, shoulders stiff, a tattoo that curled up from his back to the nape of his neck just visible for the way he’d pulled his curl up in a bun.

“Why are you always in such a bad mood? Huh? And I’m allowed in the kitchen,” you added, hating that you sounded haughty, but fuck this boy and his attitude problem. The hot and cold act was starting to wear thin. “I work here too.”

He turned then, the sleeves of his chef whites rolled up to his elbows, ropes of muscle and lines of ink curling around his forearms. His fingers were covered in butter and sugar, and when he took a few steps closer, brows raised at you in a challenge, he smelled like cinnamon. “That right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t back down, even though your stomach flipped. You lifted your chin higher, tried to give it back to him as good as he gave it out. “You think I come here for the good of my health?” You wanted to bite, you wanted to sink your teeth in and draw blood. You wanted to hurt. The taste of honey on fresh sourdough lingered on your tongue. “I heard the food is shit.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared at your childish barb, but as immature as it was, the boy gritted his teeth and stormed back to the work station. The bowls clattered against each, steel on steel and the spatula he’d been using got launched into the empty sink.

“Just stay out my way,” Eddie grunted.

The sharpness of his words made your throat tight, face scrunching unhappily because what had you ever done to him? You decided not to answer, pressing your lips together instead and hoping Eddie didn’t see your watery eyes when you stalked past his table. You ducked into the office, slamming your locker door as you shoved your bag inside, shouldering into Steve by accident on the way back out.

“Oh, sorry— hey, hey,” Steve frowned, catching sight of your face. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, just smiling and shrugging him off, already pulling out your pad and pen from the front of your apron, as if the quiet diner was suddenly full of people who were desperate for their orders to be taken. You didn’t look at Eddie as you left, disappearing between the table and booths, hoping for something to clean until a table filled up.

You didn’t see it, you didn’t hear it, but Steve walked to Eddie’s station with a scowl that matched the other boy’s and stole the spoon that was in his hand.

“Hey!” Eddie’s head shot up, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. “Give me th—”

“Stop being a dick,” Steve scolded, holding the spoon over his head when Eddie tried to grab it across the bench. “You’re being an ass, man. And for what?”

Eddie glared, reaching for the stolen utensil and swearing when Steve rapped the back of his knuckles with it. “What’re you even talkin’ about?”

Steve scoffed, “don’t act dumb, Munson, it isn’t cute. What have you got against the new girl?”

Eddie didn’t answer, giving up and crossing the kitchen to rake through a drawer for another spoon instead. He stalked to the refrigerator too, still scowling, piling more ingredients in his arms as he went. He walked back to Steve with eggs and fruit, jars of spices that were all different colours. Steve was still standing, shirt sleeves rolled up, his name badge on upside down.

“Well?”

“Steve, just—” Eddie let out a huff and set a pan on the stovetop, flicking on the switches until a blue flame appeared. It bloomed into red, orange and Eddie spooned some butter into the pan. “I don’t have anything against her.” His cheeks were hot, he could feel it. A pink flush that went across his nose and attacked the tips of his ears. He cracked an egg too vigorously, shell in the yolk, making it burst. He swore.

“No?” Steve didn’t look convinced. He handed Eddie back his spoon. “Doing your damn best to convince her otherwise. Poor kid looked like she was about to cry.”

Eddie’s eyes shuttered closed at that, guilt gnawing a hole in his chest. He cracked another egg, watched it turn white over the heat. He really wanted a cigarette.

The bell for the diner door rang, signalling the arrival of customers, a bleary eyed bunch of business men that looked like they were from out of town. Their suits were too sharp, close shaven beards and briefcases making them look like sore thumbs against the garish decor and sticky booth seats. Both boy’s watched you approach their table, smiling sweetly and nodding shyly as you scribbled down their orders. When you turned to head to the hatch, a piece of paper ready to be slapped onto the stainless steel bar, Eddie watched as the men eyed your behind, appreciative faces and shared whispers about the way your legs looked in your dress.

He cracked another egg, eyes narrowed, chest tighter than before.

“Say sorry,” Steve finalised the conversation with a friendly slap to Eddie’s shoulder as he passed him. You were only a few tables away, head ducked down, eyes hidden as you approached. Steve looked serious as he said, “fix it.”

—————

By the time the clock hit eleven am, Jonathan was coaxing you into going for your break, handing your orders to Steve as he cleared the table your customers just left. He waved away your protests, voice quiet and soft as he handed you the dollar notes that were left for you beside a ketchup stain.

“I’ve got it,” he tsked. “Go on, go get some food or somethin’.”

So you smiled and pulled off your apron as you headed through the back, already sipping on a glass of lemon water you’d poured yourself at the bar. You could hear Steve greet a family at the front door, all charm and sweetness, and the radio in the kitchen was still playing. Breakfast was almost over but the place still smelled sweet, syrup and cinnamon, cooked pancakes and fresh bread, maple bacon that the diners always ordered an extra plate of.

Argyle was at the sink, washing a pot and he smiled as you walked across the tiles. “Wassup Chicago town?” There were bubbles on his arms, a walkman clipped to the waistband of his chef whites and headphones around his neck. “You lookin’ for Eddie?”

You frowned without meaning to, wondering if you could get away with pinching some leftover breakfast without anyone realising. Jim didn’t mind, but Eddie was way too particular with his leftovers.

“Uh, no,” you answered. “Should I be?”

“Think he was lookin’ for you.”

You didn’t get to ask anymore questions, or even laugh at the idea of the chef seeking you out, because Eddie was coming back out from the pantry with a new bag of sugar. His eyes flitted to you as he walked to his bench, cheeks a little pink and he sprinkled some of it over a bowl of chopped fruit before he said anything. He nodded to the stool he made you sit on the other day, the one at his station and it was only then you noticed there was a plate sitting.

Two perfectly cooked eggs, sunny side up with a huge slice of orange that was arranged like a smile. There was a single blueberry in the middle of the plate, plucked from the bowl that Eddie placed beside it, finishing off the smiley faced breakfast.

“You hungry?” Eddie murmured, his voice softer than it had been when you last ran into him. He kept his head bent, curls framing his brown eyes, lips twisted. “You didn’t have breakfast.”

“Wh—?” Your lips parted, your apron still fisted in your hand and you rounded the station slowly, eyes on the boy like you were waiting for the joke to land.

Eddie’s gaze shot from you to the stool and he tilted his chin once more. “Sit.” His demand wasn’t bossy, despite the bluntness. His voice was so much more gentle than you’d heard it before. The frown was still there, the stitch between his brows but his eyes looked softer, honeyed caramel, brown sugar, the stickiest kind of toffee. “Gonna get cold.”

So you sat, looking behind you to glance at Argyle, wondering if this was strange enough for him to take notice too. Sure enough, the boy had stopped scrubbing, his hands still in the hot water as steam rose up around his confused face. He was watching the both of you, eyes glancing between you and Eddie as he tried to work out what was happening.

Eddie turned his back on you as you stared down at the meal he’d made you, eyes still wide and something inside of you sank at the idea of his walking away. But he spun back, a fork and knife in his hand, wrapped in a napkin. He didn’t hand them to you, but he slid them across the counter, his expression neutral - you couldn’t work him out.

“Thank you,” you whispered and Eddie nodded. You wondered if Steve and Jonathan got their breakfast made for them when they went on break, if they came into the kitchen to a bowl of fresh fruit - mangoes and berries and brightly coloured slices of citrus. You thought it would be best not to ask. “Looks good.”

Eddie hummed and nodded, waiting until you picked up your cutlery and unfurled it from the wrapping. He made his leave then, cheeks pink, curls going a little frizzy in the heat and he ducked away, picking up a crate that he took into the freezer, the large door thumping behind him.

The napkin fell to the table as you took out your fork, marvelling over the way the yolk burst perfectly as you dug in, golden liquid pooling across your plate. You picked up the blueberry nose before it got caught, popping it into your mouth and humming at the flavour. And when you looked down, there was a word scrawled across the napkin, faded black ink on white tissue.

“Sorry.”

—————

Eddie made sure he waited long enough for you to be gone by the time he appeared from the walk-in, nose red with the cold, skin goose pimpled under his uniform - because fucking hell, why did he decide to hide in the freezer? He came back out warily, keeping his back against the tiled wall as he peered around the corner. You were gone from his station, your twenty minute break already over and he could see your empty plate and bowl stacked at the sink beside Argyle.

He squared his shoulders and tried to act normal as he stomped back into his kitchen, frown set back on his face but his heart was thundering. It made him feel ill, the way his chest got right, the way his stomach flipped. His station was clear of your plates, but you’d left the napkin there, the corner of it tucked under a plastic quart container so it didn’t float away.

There, in your much neater handwriting and the pink pen you liked to take orders with, was a reply to the boy’s scrawled apology.

“Thank you.”

Eddie stared at the words for too long, until the rosy coloured ink went blurry and his cheeks turned the same shade. He wasn’t sure where you’d gone, but he could smell perfume he assumed was yours, lingering between the stacks of chopped strawberries, the halved mango on the counter.

“You got a crush, my friend?”

Eddie’s head snapped up, a scowl set back on his face instinctually. He liked Argyle, he didn’t mind him at all, but the boy was standing by the sink and was looking at him knowingly. Argyle grinned and raised his brows, waiting for Eddie to answer.

“What? No.” Eddie slammed the napkin back down on the desk. Argyle was still grinning. “Shut up.” Eddie waited until the other boy returned to the dishes before he took the napkin and folded it up, tucking it into his pocket.

He’d bin it later, he told himself. It wasn’t a big deal.

—————

The day Eddie was scheduled off on the rota was a much busier day. It seemed like bad luck, the main cook’s day off coinciding with the monthly farmers market that was set up in Hawkin’s Main Street. The square was filled with stalls, fresh fruit and vegetables in crates, the smell of homemade soap, lavender and rose on the breeze. The tiny storefronts helped funnel the crowds in the direction of the diner, lines of cars driving to the restaurant for breakfast, their trunks full of fresh goods and Mrs Sinclair’s apple pie slices.

It meant your day went too fast, the tips good and the chance of a break slim. Argyle was pushed to his limit, the freezer used more than ever as the full tables called for a quicker turnaround, the frozen burger patties being used instead of the way Eddie liked to make each one fresh. But Eddie wasn’t here and you certainly weren’t thinking about him, so he didn’t need to know. And when your shift ended at five, the dinner rush was just as crazy so you stayed on until six and helped Nancy clear a table of twelve guests, two families from out of town that had too many kids and there were lines of coloured crayon along the walls that just wouldn’t shift until you gave in and brought out a bottle of bleach.

She was grateful enough that she split the table’s tip with you, something you tried to wave away but she insisted and stuffed the dollar bills into the front of your apron, not caring about the stains, the dryer grease, the spilled coffee there. Nancy looked just as undone as you. But it had been a good day - you missed the chance to eat, and maybe get something made for you by Eddie - but you had enough cash rolled up in your purse to start a new stack in your freezer at home and the bus back into town should be due any min—

The bus rolled past before you could get to the stop, the tires squeaking in protest as it passed you by, your feet not able to take you out of the parking lot quick enough. And it was still fine, there was still a little light in the sky, that navy-lilac kinda way that told you nightfall was coming soon, or maybe rain. Maybe both.

So you pulled the strap of your bag across your chest and wished your uniform wasn’t as starchy and tight, ‘cause the heat still lingered even in the evening, warmth collecting in the shadows even as indigo coloured clouds rolled in above. The rain didn’t hit until ten minutes into your walk, a Misty drizzle that had you scrunching your face until it turned into a downpour. A heavy summer storm where thunder shouted at you from the distance, way out across the cornfields and making the sky flash white. You ran down the sidewalk where there weren’t many places to stop, to shelter and you suddenly wished more than ever that you still had your shitty old car that you barely needed to use when you lived in Chicago.

But the garage was coming up, a familiar building with peeling red paint on its walls and a huge shutter that was already closed a third of the way. You hoped and prayed that Wayne was still around, wondering if it would be too cheeky to ask if you could finally take him up on the offer of that ride he once asked if you needed. Weeks of passing by and waving to him - and offering a snickerdoodle from the box you once took into work for Jonathan’s birthday - had built up a quiet sort of friendship.

The garage was quiet and the bell sounded as you pushed open the door, the workshop floor stained with oil and paint, leftover footprints that would never clean off. Cars sat asleep, some with their hoods up, engines ripped out and dismantled on the floor, and thank god, there was still a light on in the office. A warm glow through a window, the outline of a man sorting through papers and his head lifted when he heard you bump into the side of a workbench, a tool you didn’t know the name of clattering to the floor.

You winced and raised your hand in a greeting and an apology. “Sorry, hi— I just— it’s raining.”

Wayne laughed after he got over his surprise, beckoning you in with an oil stained hand. His tiny office smelled like gas and burnt tires but his smile was as friendly and tired as it always was. “Miss the bus?” He asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. Out of the summer air, the garage was cooler and you were drenched, goosebumps trailing across your forearms. “Drove right by me.”

Wayne tutted, sympathetic and he pushed what looked like a stack of invoices into a tray for tomorrow. “That’ll be that Hagan boy, never should’ve been allowed the job. Doesn’t pay any darned attention to nobody.” The man patted down his pockets, searching for his keys. “Jus’ gimme a minute and I’ll drop you off, think the boy took my damn keys. Hey, son—”

Another figure appeared in the doorway, cutting off Wayne’s call. This man was tall and broad shouldered, with dark curls that weren’t tied back. They hit his shoulders, wild strands springing around brown eyes that quickly widened at the sight of you.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Hey!” Wayne snapped with a frown. He whacked the boy’s shoulder with a rolled up newspaper he grabbed from his desk. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. I raised you better than that, you little delinquent.”

Eddie looked astonishingly different out of his chef whites and your surprise showed on your face. Out of his uniform, you could see more skin, more ink. Tattoos curling around his forearms and creeping up towards his biceps, black leaking across lithe muscles that you didn’t get to see at work. He was all dark, black jeans with rips in the knees, a black T-shirt that was well worn, the band logo on the front unrecognisable from wear and from the fact that your music taste was wildly different.

Jewellery he didn’t get to wear glitter on him, silver rings on almost every finger, skulls and orjer horned things around his knuckles, a silver chain peeking out from underneath his collar. There was a hole in the hem of his shirt, heavy scuff marks on his big boots. He was still scowling at you though, a familiar sight that made him look more like the Eddie you knew.

You glanced at Wayne, still confused as to why he was scolding the line cook from your work. You looked back to Eddie, lips trying to wrap around an explanation. He made you feel like you weren’t supposed to be here. “I— the bus. I missed the bus.” You swallowed, an awful shyness coming over you, or maybe it was nerves. “It’s raining.”

The weather was making itself known as the storm closed in, heavy, fat drops of rain pounding on the tin roof of the garage, a deafening roar that only got heavier.

“Yeah, no shit.” Eddie called back, raising his voice to be heard over the din and his cheek got him another smack from Wayne.

“You better hope I don’t find out you talk like that in the kitchen, boy,” Wayne pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie, to which the boy merely rolled his eyes at. “I’ll ask Jim, he’ll tell me.” When Eddie didn’t reply, Wayne pulled on his jacket and set about collecting more sheets of paper. He asked Eddie for his keys and pocketed them before saying, “Ed’s, be a good ‘un and take my friend here home, yeah? I gotta finish up this mess.”

When Eddie raised his brows and dropped his jaw, you were pretty sure your expression was the same. Except you were burning, both at the embarrassment of Wayne being so sweet and the idea of having to spend time with Eddie alone.

“Friend?” Eddie scoffed. “Since when?”

You wanted the floor to open up below you. “I can, I can just walk.” You jammed a thumb at the door, at the torrential rain that was still falling angrily outside of it. “I think the rain has stopped…”

Thunder bellowed from above. A leak in the corner of the work floor dripped onto an old tire. Wayne stared at you both, unimpressed.

And that’s how you ended up in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #linecook!eddie

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malarign · 11 months

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riki as your boyfriend!

(soft moments with him)

contains: bf!Riki x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! kissing (lmk if i forgot about something!) | wc: 1,4k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreaciated!!!

author’s note: idrk that he said he would confess in a cool way, here he is a soft and shy baby </3

other members’ versions: LHS - PJS - SJY - PSH - KSW - YJW

➶ watching horrors together only to have you in his arms *ೃ༄

As much as Riki didn’t want to admit it was one of his favorite feelings in the whole world. Especially if you were scared and wanted to be as close to him as it’s physically possible. That’s why he enjoyed watching horror movies with you. He exactly knew what reaction he could expect from you, so it was your go-to movie genre whenever you had a movie night together. The way you buried your face in his chest or neck made his heart flutter and cheeks flush with a bright blush which he tried to cover up by laughing and teasing you.

“Do we really have to watch that?” you asked tucking on his sleeve.

“It’s a really good movie, Y/nah, you’re going to like it,” he reassured you, knowing damn well what your reactions are gonna be.

You silently read the description. Of course, a horror movie. What else could Riki pick? You bit your lips, mentally preparing for all the jumpscares and awful characters that await you.

None of you were wrong. For the first 30 minutes of the movie when nothing really happened you thought it was not going to be as bad as you thought, only for the worst to show up on the screen. You flinched at the loud sound and sudden jumpscare and tugged at his arm this time, earning a laugh from him. Your reactions were in his eyes none but endearing, they also made him want to protect you at all costs.

Without saying a word you cuddled to him, seeking comfort in his arms and calming scent. Riki just wrapped his arms around you, occasionally rubbing your back when other scary scenes showed up.

“You’re such a baby,” he spoke and added quickly seeing your fake mad expression. “My baby.”

➶ wearing your hair tie on his wrist *ೃ༄

Being the forgetful person you are you often kept on either losing small stuff like hair ties, which to be honest wasn’t very comfortable, especially on windy days. You would curse yourself for not taking anything to tie or pin your locks with. That’s when Riki comes to the rescue. Knowing your habit he kept on one hair tie on his wrist just in case you forgot one. Sometimes he would even offer to tie them for you, gently brushing through them with his fingers or a comb.

Looking down at you struggling with your hair Riki couldn’t contain his smile. The wind had no mercy on you today, making your locks go in all the different directions possible. When you were on the verge of fuming he silently walked behind you taking all your hair in his hands. He gently brushed through them, careful not to hurt you. He tied them with a hair tie he kept on his wrist into a comfortable low ponytail that you were so used to.

“Thank you,” you spoke sweetly and looked up at him.

“No problem,” he said, returning your baby tone to you.

You climbed on your toes to plant a quick kiss on his lips leaving him blushing at unexpected affection. You took his hand firmly

➶ face lighting up when he sees you *ೃ༄

This is something Riki just can’t help with. Whenever he is waiting for you at home, or you just ran at each other, he can’t contain his big and bright smile. Watching as his eyes slowly disappear and his face lifts at your sight make your heart feel warm and skip a beat or two. In the beginning, he tried to contain himself but with time it began to be even more difficult, so he just gave up, showing how much he was whipped for you.

Riki waited for you a little bit longer than usual and started to get pretty impatient and mad. He took his phone out of his pocket to call you when he noticed you waving at him from the distance and shouting his name.

“Riki!”

He didn’t even notice when a smile crept on his face. Was it your excited expression? Was it the way his name sounded in your lips? Or was it just because you were his favorite person? He didn’t know, but what he did know was how your body hit his when you ran excitedly to him. He wrapped his arms around you, all the thoughts about you being late disappearing immediately.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you said breathlessly.

“It’s okay,” he responded quietly, tucking a lone strand of your hair behind your ear. Dreamy gaze and a loving smile never leaving his lit-up face.

➶ doodling on your palm *ೃ༄

Having a soft spot for you and drawing seemed like a perfect match since you never had any objections against him doodling on your skin. The feeling of a pen dancing on your skin and Riki’s focused facial expression made you smile every time he did that. Without noticing your hand would be covered with cute drawings, either portraying small symbols or his favorite characters from animations.

If one thing could tell you Riki was getting bored of a movie or TV series you’ve been watching it was definitely him grabbing a pen and drawing small patterns on your palm.

“Do you want to watch something else?” you asked pausing the movie you were dying for months to watch.

“No, no, it’s okay, I know how much you wanted to watch it,” he responded nonchalantly.

“You sure? We can watch something else,” you suggested but he shook his head in disapproval.

“I’m sure, are you okay with me drawing on your hand though?”

“Was I ever not okay with it?” you asked and raised your eyebrow with a smile.

He just smiled to himself and continued drawing on your arm stunning small symbols and characters, soon covering it all, not leaving any spot.

➶ tying your shoelaces *ೃ༄

If he could erase any of your traits it would definitely be your forgetfulness which unfortunately didn’t limit to only forgetting things. Living in a hurry often made you forget the most trivial things like eating your meals or tying your shoelaces. By now Riki developed a habit of always checking the state of your shoes before heading to your destination. He could count how many times you almost tripped really badly because of them. At first, he found it cute and quite funny but now whenever he sees them undone he just shakes his head and kneels to tie them for you.

„Your shoelaces are undone,” Riki remarked as he pointed to your feet.

You followed his gaze and just shrugged.

“It’s okay,” you said and squeezed his hand slightly.

Soon you were stopped by his firm posture. He looked at you with an expression that talked for itself. He shook his head and sighed kneeling in front of you. The sight of it took you aback wondering what he was up to, only to find out he wanted to tie your shoes for you.

“You keep on tripping over because of them and still manage to say it’s okay?” he asked rhetorically fingers still busy with your shoelaces.

“Thank you,” you simply said, flustered by his gesture and care.

Soon he stood up, now again towering above you. He took your hand gently in his with a smile and guided you to your destination.

➶ having pillow fights *ೃ༄

You could think he would give you some head start but nothing could be further from the truth. He would put the use of his long hours at the gym and have no mercy in beating your ass in pillow fights. Of course, it didn’t mean he would put too much force into them but just enough to leave both of you hysterically laughing at the way you lose miserably. He would always top them out with a sweet kiss either on your forehead or lips.

When you agreed on another sleepover with Riki you knew what you signed up to. He could greet to with the sweetest smile and gentle kiss but that wouldn’t stop him from tackling you down in a fierce feathery battle. And today was no different from other times. You were currently losing against your boyfriend, while both of you laughed loudly.

“I can’t breathe, please stop Riki!” you begged for him to stop. Riki always seemed to know when you were serious and when it was playful. Sensing you needed a break he threw his weapon to the other side of the bed. He cupped your cheeks and left tickling kisses on your eyelids, forehead, and finally lips.

“Rest for a bit. I’m not done beating your weak ass.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @edensgardenn (in bold can’t be tagged)

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buckyalpine · 7 months

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I adore all of your stories and turn to them at night when my brain won’t stop running. I have kind of a weird request. How would Bucky react to his girl temporarily losing her memory? (I once lost mine for two weeks due to a bad reaction to a medicine, so this pops in my mind from time to time.) The reader doesn’t remember who he is, but still feels safest when she’s with him. I’m sure he’d be the absolute sweetest. And since he’d know what it was like, he’d probably know what’s helpful and what makes things worse. When she eventually recovers, she remembers all he did for her and falls even more in love 🥰 Maybe some spicy thank yous?

Sorry if it’s too specific or out of your comfort zone! Feel free to change anything (I did base it a bit on what happened to me, but I’m sure it’d be different for everyone). Thanks!!

YESS THIS IS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND ADORABLE

"I need back up on the east wing!" Steve's voice crackled through the coms, his breathing labored as he tossed off another hydra operative against the wall, "A-agent down!"

You were passed out on the floor, dust and rubble surrounding you after exhausting yourself, 3 stab wounds were bleeding profusely from your abdomen along with other cuts and bruises littering your skin. Your head throbbed in pain from where you'd been hit and with each passing second it became harder for you to stay awake. You'd tried your best to keep your eyes open with Steve's pleading but it was too much; the pain started to dull and the world went black.

"It's a strong medication and she might be out for a little longer but she's going to be okay. We just have to keep monitoring her" Dr. Cho's voice spoke softly just outside of the room where you still laid unconscious. After getting patched up and scanned for damages, you were dosed with anything and everything to keep you rested and to help with pain. You had visitors day in and day out to check on you but the one that never left your bedside was your sweet boyfriend.

"Baby please wake up" Bucky softly pleaded as he ran his fingers gently across your face, not wanting to disturb you but also unable to keep his hands to himself. Not when he just wanted to see you open your eyes again, hating the fact that he hadn't heard your voice in two weeks.

Two weeks.

That's how long you'd been out for.

He was patient, not wanting to rush your healing time but he missed you so much. He continued his soft ministrations, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and peppering kisses across your cheeks. He noticed the slight flutter of your lashes, sitting up immediately when your heart monitor picked up.

"Sweetheart?" He kept his voice low, paging for a nurse to come check on you while holding your hand, his heart racing when you finally opened your eyes. "Oh baby"

You blinked at the fluorescent lights of the room, looking at the sterile environment surrounding you. Bucky stroked your hand, hoping to ease away how disoriented you were probably feeling, giving you a soft smile when you finally met his eyes.

"How are you doll?"

"Um-I'm fine?" You stared at the handsome stranger that was by your bedside, his beautiful blue eyes swirling with emotion as he continued to clutch onto your hand.

"I was so worried y/n"

"Who-I'm really sorry, who are you?"

Bucky's eyes widened with horror, quickly recomposing himself seeing your confused expression. He dropped your hand, immediately adding space between you both, offering you comforting smile before heading out of the door.

"Let me get the doctor" He didn't want to worry you, keeping a steady voice as he spoke before speeding down the corridor as soon as he was out of sight. He wasted no time informing the others about what had just happened, the team all patiently waiting outside of your room while the doctor checked on you.

"Will she be okay?" the words came tumbling out of Bucky as soon as Dr. Cho finished running a few tests, shutting the door behind her, letting you rest. He'd been pacing up and down the hall like a changed animal the entire time, only stopping when he heard Dr. Cho gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Her memory will come back eventually but until then it's important things are calm for her. Between the hits she took and the medication, she doesn't remember much from the last 2 years. You have to remember, throwing too much information at her will set her back so do your best to keep things the way she'd understand"

It wasn't going to be easy. There was no time line for when your memory would return and you had just joined the team two years ago. You didn't remember anyone, having no recollections of all the memories you'd built with them, nor remembering any of the friendships you had. As soon as you were discharged, you took the first day to rest in your room, not knowing that Nat had cleaned out all memories of Bucky so you wouldn't feel more confused.

After sleeping for most of the day, a man knocked on your door and introduced himself as Tony Stark, the very Iron Man. You couldn't recall too much but the name rang a bell; you knew he was the main person for you to go to if you needed anything. His first task was to take you around the compound, introducing you to various members of the team.

You met Nat and Clint training together in the gym. Sam had been tinkering with something called Red Wing. Steve had welcomed you with a warm hug and Bruce had been working away in the lab. Tony continued his tour, walking you through the kitchen when your eyes landed on a familiar face from before.

"And whose that" You felt your face heat up as you pointed over to the handsome man that has been by your bed earlier in the day, still feeling his soft touch on your skin.

"That's Bucky, or Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes" Tony stated, smiling at the way your eyes lingered on the soldier for longer than necessary. "Here, let's go say hi"

Tony sauntered over to where Bucky was nursing a cup of coffee, the bags under his eyes growing from a lack of sleep but that didn't stop him from throwing you a bashful smile when Tony introduced brought you to him.

"Barnes, this is y/n, she's joining our team soon"

"Nice to meet you doll" Bucky shook your hand with the utmost care, the pet name he had just for you rolling off his tongue with ease. "Let me know if you need anything"

You felt butterflies at the smirk the soldier threw your way before making his way over to the gym, the blue eyes twinkling with something you couldn't quite place. The rest of the day went by smoothly and later that night you accepted the teams invitation to join them for dinner and then later a movie night.

You were aware that you'd sustained an injury which was affecting your memory; what you still didn't know was how much of your memory was missing. You felt nervous as you made you way to the dining table, everyone sitting in their designated spot, chatting away while passing dishes to each other.

Before you could quietly retreat to your room, you locked eyes with those familiar baby blues, a smile growing on his face. Bucky got up from his seat, noting how anxious you looked, understanding seeing everyone together would be overwhelming when you didn't remember any of them. He knew exactly how that felt and there was no way he was going to let you ever feel even an ounce of that.

"I hope you're hungry, doll" Bucky spoke to you softly, not bringing attention to where you'd backed up against the wall in hopes of not being noticed.

"A little" You lied, the rumble of your stomach giving away that you were starving.

"Would-would you like to join me out in the garden? I'll bring some food out for you" Bucky offered, hoping you'd feel less overwhelmed with a bit of space.

"Yes please, thank you Bucky" You shyly smiled as he stepped away to get you some food, taking both of your plates outside to eat under the soft glow of the moon. You appreciated that he didn't bombard you with questions; the both of you eating in comfortable silence until it was time for the movie. All the anxiety you'd anticipated feeling disappeared into thin air when Bucky made some space for you to sit beside him. He picked a section of the room where you'd be able to sneak off undetected if you wanted to leave early.

There was something about the Sergeant that made you feel safe. You felt loved by everyone but with Bucky it was just different. You felt safe around him. You trusted him. You didn't know him all that well and yet whenever he was around, you knew you didn't have to worry.

There were days where your anxiety would be at an all time high, worried about why you were getting vivid flashes of random memories and terrible headaches that made you nauseous. In those moments where you felt so lost, so out of control over your own thoughts, Bucky would ground you, just being around him making you feel better.

You couldn't understand why you felt so safe around a man you barely knew but you found yourself seeking him out more and more, desperate for more of his kind words, gentle touches and soothing voice.

He really was the sweetest.

It killed Bucky. His heart was hurting. He was a stranger to you and it shattered him, wishing he could kiss and cuddle you every night and tell you he was so glad you were okay, that a part of him nearly died when you didn't wake up. Everyday he had to bid you good night with nothing more than a smile, so badly wanting to hold you tight in his arms instead.

None of that mattered right now.

Not when you needed him the most even if you didn't know it.

He was going to do whatever it took to get you better, taking care of you every step of the way in the best way you needed until you remembered. He could tell by the way you giggled, by the way you smiled, that even if you didn't remember everything, there was always something between you both.

He'd never give up on you no matter how long it took.

"Shit" You hissed, dropping the mug of tea you were sipping on, the cup shattering on the floor with a crash. Searing pain felt like it was splitting your head into to, your hands clutching onto your throbbing temples, squeezing your eyes shut, the headaches you'd been getting happening more frequently.

You'd cut back on the medication you were taking, which had actually helped with regaining some of your memory but it also meant you'd go through bouts of pain without anything to help it. Flashes of a mission gone wrong streamed through you memory between fiery throbbing, even the soft day light overwhelming your sense.

"B-Bucky!!" You cried out, your knees buckling as you slumped onto the floor, blinking back tears as another wave of pain passed. You didn't need anything else but you needed your Bucky, the only person you felt felt safe with, the person you'd loved for all these years, the man who was by your bedside for days on end after you didn't wake up-

"Doll? Fuck, y/n, whats wrong sweets" Bucky found you curled up in a ball on the cool kitchen tile, sweeping you up into his arms and holding your head against his chest, his arms covering your face from the light, while his cool metal arm was pressed firmly against your forehead to ease the pain. "M'here y/n, you're okay, you're okay"

He rocked you, not moving from the floor while whispering in your ear, hoping the pain would pass quickly.

"Jamie, it hurts" You whimpered, clutching onto his Henley, the scent of his body wash calming you down. Bucky froze, not saying a word, his heart hammering against his chest at what you'd just called him.

Could that mean-

"Do-do you want to go lie down sweets?" Bucky spoke carefully, feeling you nod, still staying tucked against him. He carried you up to your room, only to have you shake your head as best as you could, wanting to go to his room instead.

"Just want to sleep for a bit baby, please?" you pleaded with him, hardly realizing the tears that were now streaming down his face as he made his way down to his room instead. He was your Jamie, your baby, you were finally coming back to him. Bucky pulled back the covers, setting you down carefully before climbing in with you when you tugged his wrist. Your eyes were still closed, the throbbing in your head slowly dissipating though not gone entirely as you snuggled against his chest, letting out a content sigh.

"Bucky?"

"Yes doll"

"I remember"

Bucky stirred awake to the sound of a whimper, his brows knitting together into a frown when he felt your body tremble in his hold.

"What is it baby?" Bucky's deep sleep laced voice carried through the darkness as he pulled you closer, soothing your sniffles. "Why are you crying darling, c'mere"

"Y-you didn't give up on me" Your emotions got the best of you, remembering everything from the moment everything went dark, to the panicked voices around you to the way Bucky had stayed by your side through it all, nursing you back to health while his own heart was hurting.

"Never doll, I'd never give up on you" Bucky said sincerely, kissing your forehead while stroking your hair, "How could I when I love you to much"

"But I-I didn't remember you-you still love me?" you whispered, feeling guilty that it had taken you so long to regain you memories and feeling more guilty that you couldn't remember Bucky for so long.

"Y/n, angel, I'd love you no matter what, do you have any idea how badly I wanted to tell you that for these past few weeks? That's all I wanted to do baby, just hold you and tell you how much I adore you-

You couldn't put into words how much love you had for him in that moment, cutting him off with your lips pressed onto his. The kiss grew more needy, hands desperately grabbing each other; you needed Bucky to know just how much you loved him too, feel every bit of what you couldn't say with words.

"Baby, let me- Bucky was ready to take care of you but that wasn't what the night was about. Not after all he'd done for you.

"No" You shook your head, gently pushing Bucky to lay on his back, straddling yourself on top of him, "Let me take care of you for taking care of me" you murmured against his lips before pressing them against his heated skin, tracing your tongue along the column of his neck. "Please Jamie, let me show you"

"D-doll-I-I can-

"Just let me Sergeant, please" You shimmed out of your oversized t-shirt before slipping your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, puling them down, leaving him perfectly bare under you. Bucky wasn't typically a shy person but the way you gazed at him with such love made him blush, his thighs tensing when you settling yourself between them.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-oh-f-fuckkk" His words melted into a deep moan, feeling your lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock, your tongue probing his slit, lapping up every bit of precum that dripped out.

You worshipped his cock with your mouth and tongue, making him feel pleasure like never before, your hand softly rubbing and rolling his balls. You pulled off with a pop just to dip your head lower, nursing on his heavy sack, the slutty, needy moans he was letting out growing louder.

"B-Baby, g'nna cum if you don't stop" His thighs spread apart further for you, back nearly arching off the bed as you licked a thick stripe from his balls to the tip of his cock, crawling back up his body to line your soaking cunt up with his length.

"Please y/n" Bucky blinked at you with glassy, lustful eyes, rutting his hips up to feel more of you, his hands flying to your thighs, needing to touch you.

"Anything for you baby" you cooed, gasping at the feeling of his tip catching against your hole, throwing your head back as you began to sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning together at the feeling of him stretching you open.

You began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing against the curly hair at the base of his cock before slowly picking you pace up, your hands resting on his chest for leverage.

"Feel's so good princess" Bucky's eyes rolled back as you started to bounce up and down, practically squealing each time you slammed yourself back down, obscene squelching noises filling the room.

"You deserve it sergeant" you whimpered, letting Bucky's hands roam your body, grabbing and pinching your nipples, your tight cunt squeezing his cock.

"C'mere baby, c'mere please" Bucky pleaded, pulling you down to his chest and wrapping his arms around you, planting his feet against the bed so he could fuck up into you, "Fuck that's it, mark me up!"

Bucky could feel you nip and suck on his neck hard enough to leave bruises, your words starting to slur as you both got closer and closer to your highs.

"F-fuck I love you!" you cried out, biting down hard on Bucky's shoulder as you started to cum, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, his pace growing sloppy.

"I-I love you princess, I love you so much-God m'gonna cum-fuck-s'so much for you-HNGG" He clung onto you like his life depended on it, shoving his cock in as deep as it would go, ropes of his warm spend shooting into you.

"I love you so much Jamie" your pussy clenched around his softening cock making him jolt, the both of you panting, pressing light kisses on sweat slicked skin. "Fell in love with you twice Sergeant"

Bucky blushed before throwing you a cocky smirk, still feeling happiness beyond what words could explain having you in his arms again.

"I'll always love you" Bucky whispered before pulling the covers up over both of you once again, staying deep inside you as you started to drift off to sleep, "No matter what"

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javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months

Text

Uh-Oh

Summary: Javi's Girl Dad skills get put to the ultimate test when your oldest daughter gets her period and you're not home to help her

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x Wife!reader (No use of y/n)

Warnings: Periods/getting a period for the first time, Javi being the ultimate Girl Dad, the Peña girls being the queens of sass, teamwork makes the dream work, just cute, sweet fluff 🥺😭

A/N: We all know that Girl Dad! Javi lives rent free in my brain, and as I was buying more tampons for myself today my brain went "Oh my god... could you imagine if Osita wasn't home when Lucy got her period and Javi, Elliot and Harper had to try and help her until Osita got home?" 😂😩 And of course, our elite girl dad would do anything he needed to in order to step up and make sure that his lil girl was okay 😭 This was also super fun to write because I feel like the girl's spunky personalities really shine through in this one 💀

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Mom? Mooommm?!”

“Why do you need Mom?” Elliot responded to her older sister, Lucy, frantically calling out for you from behind the bathroom door.

“I just- I- Will you please just go get Mom, okay?! I really need her.” Lucy sighed, panic filling her voice with every passing second it took for her sister to answer her request. Normally Elliot wouldn’t have been so quick to comply without haggling to negotiate a favor on her end, but even the 11 year old could sense the pure terror in her older sister’s voice.

“Fine, fine.” Elliot huffed, making her way to her other sister’s room down the hall, pushing open Harper’s door to rally her for support. “Harper. Go help me find Mom.”

“Why?” Harper asked, giving her sister a confused look as she set down the stuffed animals she was playing with on her bed.

“Because, Lucy sounds like she’s having a mental breakdown in the bathroom and she needs mom’s help.”

“Do you think she pooped her pants?!” Harper looked at Elliot with a disgusted and confused grimace on her face, the girls pausing for a moment to shake their heads in horror at the potential current state of their sister.

“She did sound really upset… I don’t know Harps, just go look for Mom, okay?!”

The girls quickly split, Harper taking the rest of the rooms upstairs while Elliot sped down the stairs to see if you were anywhere on the first floor.

“Mom?! Mommy are you down here?!”

After many years of raising 3 girls under the same roof, the two of you had learned how to tell the difference in your girls’ tone to distinguish what they wanted you for- Tattling, excitement, annoyance, you and Javi had pretty much heard it all. But the way that Elliot was calling out for you immediately caught Javi’s attention.

Someone was in big trouble.

“What’s up, El?” Javi called out wearily from the living room, lowering the volume on the TV as his daughter came speeding in, fear flooding her face.

“Where’s mom?!” Elliot demanded, looking around the room for any sight of you. Her worried tone quickly had Javi up and off the couch, scrunching his brow at Elliot in concern at what kind of trouble the girls had gotten themselves into that they were so frantically looking for you.

“Mom’s at the store. What’s going on?” Javi asked again, trying to keep even keeled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at his daughter.

“I don’t know, I swear! Lucy just kept calling for Mom from the bathroom. She sounded really freaked out, though. Harper and I think she shit her pants.” Elliot replied, holding up her hands in defense to rid herself of any potential blame, trying to keep from giggling at her last sentence.

“Elliot Marie.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes at her. “You said she’s in the bathroom?”

Elliot nodded, giving a little shrug for her lack of clarity around her sister’s current circumstances. Letting out a little sigh, Javi reached over for the remote on the couch, turning off the TV before making his way up the stairs to find out what in the world was going on.

Javi, Elliot and Harper now found themselves gathered around the outside of the bathroom door in confusion, Javi gently tapping on the door before speaking. “Hey Lucy, it’s me. What’s goin’ on, bud?”

“Where’s Mom?!” Lucy replied, sounding like she was trying her best to hold back her sobs, muffled from behind the bathroom door.

“She’s at the store right now, babe. What’s going on?” Javi asked again, looking down at Harper and Elliot who were looking back up at him, the 3 of them perplexed as to why Lucy was so distraught.

“Did you poop your pants?!” Harper shouted, trying her best to ask seriously, although the two girls on the outside of the bathroom door couldn’t help but snicker to themselves. Javi groaned, rolling his eyes at Elliot and Harper, taking his hand to shoo them away, silently mouthing “Seriously?! Go play.” as the girls scampered away in a fit of giggles to Elliot’s room, leaving just Javi outside the door, waiting for a response.

“... I really need Mom.” Lucy choked out through her tears as Javi leaned against the door, running his hand over the back of his neck in a mix of bewilderment and frustration until his realization hit him like a ton of bricks, his face going ghost white in terror.

Lucy got her fucking period and you weren’t home.

Javi could feel himself physically starting to sweat in panic trying to figure out what the hell to do. Even if he called you to come home, you probably still weren’t going to be back for another 45 minutes, and he wasn’t going to let his daughter sit in the bathroom horrified and alone until you returned. Letting out the deepest sigh he could muster, Javi knew his only option was to do this on his own, and hope he didn’t traumatize his oldest daughter, or die of embarrassment in the process.

“Uh… Lucy, I’m really sorry but Mom’s not- shit- You… You’re gonna have to trust me to help you though this one, bud.” Javi grimaced, wincing at his own words, wondering to himself how he was going to get himself and his daughter through this.

A stark silence hug in the air between them, barricaded by the bathroom door as Javi anxiously bounced his leg, waiting for Lucy to say something, anything, back to him. “How do you know what’s going on?” Lucy questioned hesitantly, probably still just as in shock as Javi was that the two of themselves were stuck in this situation together.

“I uh- I’m just assuming because you wanted Mom- and uh, you’re- you’re in the bathroom and that you’re upset that you got your per-”

“EW DAD?! Don’t say it!! That’s so weird!!” Lucy snapped from the other side of the door, Javi automatically holding up his hands in defense and taking a step back from the bathroom, taking a moment to carefully choose his next words before speaking again.

“Sorry, sorry. Uh, kiddo, listen, I can call Mom but she’s not gonna be home for a while and I- I can’t just let you sit in there until she comes back. Can I- will you let me help you?” Javi asked, preemptively wincing, bracing himself for Lucy’s reply.

“Yeah, I- I guess. Just please don’t be weird, Dad, I’m literally already gonna die of embarrassment and that’s without your help.” Lucy groaned, accepting defeat that she was going to have to let her Dad, of all people, help her through her unfortunate circumstances. Javi let out a sigh of relief that he at least wasn’t going to have to fight with Lucy or leave her stranded in the bathroom, but as he sat and thought about the fact that he was going to put a plan into action… Given the choice between this and chasing down Pablo Escobar or the Cali Cartel? Javi would have been on the first flight back to Colombia.

“Okay, let me uh… I’ll um- give me one second okay?”

“Not like I was planning on going anywhere else anytime soon.” Lucy grumbled, just loud enough for Javi to hear as he sped to Elliot’s room, where he found his other two daughters blissfully unaware of what was happening, building some sort of creation out of Legos.

“Girls, you gotta go do something for me okay?�� Javi pleaded, leaning in the doorframe of the bedroom, looking down at his daughters on the floor, pausing their Lego construction, their dad now capturing their attention.

“Okay.” The girls said in unison, giving their dad a little shrug of compliance.

“Can you uh-” Javi ran his hand over his red face, trying to find the least mortifying way to ask his daughters to help, “Can you guys go to Lucy’s room and get her a pair of underwear?”

“EW GROSS DAD.” The girls shrieked, sticking out their tongues in disgust and Elliot pretending to vomit to add to the effect.

“You guys… Can you just- please?” Javi practically begged, trying his best to keep calm and blow things even more out of proportion than they already felt like they were. Elliot and Harper sat quietly for a moment, the gears in their head visibly turning before Elliot spoke again.

“...What’s in it for us?” Elliot asked, tilting her head and shrugging at her sister, too smart for her own good to ever pass up on an opportunity to bargain her way into a better deal.

“Helping your sister.” Javi gruffed, impatient for his daughter’s negotiating antics as his other daughter sat helpless in the bathroom. Elliot and Harper both raised an eyebrow at their dad, sitting on the floor in a determined silence to get something in exchange for Javi’s proposal. “... 5 bucks for each of you, fair?”

“5? Seems a little low for such a risky task.”

“Fine, 10, now go so we can help your sister.”

The girls gave each other a quiet high five before pushing up off the floor and racing past Javi out of the bedroom door towards their sister’s room, Harper’s voice carrying down the hallway.

“I told you she pooped her pants!”

Now having figured out one part of his predicament, Javi made his way back to the bathroom door to check on Lucy as he waited for Elliot and Harper to return. “Hey Lucy… You… You doin’ okay?” Javi asked, his hand brushing through the dark ends of his curls at the back of his neck.

“Yeah… NEVER been better.” Lucy groaned, her voice oozing with sarcasm, a trait she had so lovingly inherited from you, and something Javi couldn’t even come close to being upset with her about, given her current situation. Before Javi could respond, Elliot and Harper were barreling down the hallway, Elliot holding out a hockey stick with a pair of underwear hooked at the end, Javi shaking his in disbelief.

“Seriously, El?” Javi gestured at the hockey stick Elliot had passed off to Harper, now stretching it even further in front of her to distance herself from her sister’s underwear, using the other hand to plug her nose.

“What?! Desperate times call for desperate measures, Dad. It was actually Harper’s idea.” The girls nodded proudly at their accomplishment, Harper freeing her hand from her nose to fist bump her sister at the execution of their plan.

“Jesus Christ…” Javi muttered to himself under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his temples, “Okay, Lucy? I’m gonna open the door enough so that your sisters can drop a new pair of underwear in there for you, alright?”

“DAD!”

“SORRY!” Javi groaned, trying his best to restrain his frustration from how stressed he was, surrounded by all 3 of his daughters trying to manage the biggest crisis he had dealt with to date. Barely opening the door a crack, Javi pointed to Harper to sneak the hockey stick through the empty space, turning it over in hopes that the underwear had fallen to the floor for her sister to grab.

“Harper that’s my new stick! Are you serious?!” Lucy shouted through the opening in the door, as if she needed another reason to be more enraged than she already was. Harper quickly jerked the stick back, slamming the door behind her, dropping it on the floor out of guilt before shouting back.

“Sorry! I didn’t wanna touch your underwear, that’s gross dude.”

“You got me dirty underwear, are you kidding Harper?!”

“No they’re clean, but like… They’re underwear, it’s nasty. Your butt touches it.”

“True that.” Elliot chimed in, leaning against the wall behind her dad and Harper, adamantly nodding in agreement at her younger sister’s reasoning.

“This is literally the worst day in the history of the world.” Lucy groaned in dismay, Javi now recognizing the soft sobs of his daughter return, his heart breaking and his brain fried at how he was going to manage the rest of this shit show until you got home. Javi tried to shoo away Elliot and Harper once again, but not before Elliot could rub the tips of her fingers and thumb together, silently asking for her promised $10 from her dad. Javi frowned, shaking his head no, Elliot getting the hint enough that now perhaps was not the best time to collect her payment. Tugging at her sister’s sleeve, Harper dragged Elliot back to her room, trying to distance herself from her angry sister as much as possible, once again, leaving Javi and the closed bathroom door with his daughter locked behind it.

Javi leaned his forehead against the door, his face buried in his palms letting out a few deep inhales and exhales to maintain his composure, given the fact that he hadn’t even gotten to the part of helping Lucy she legitimately needed.

“You okay, bud?”

“No. What kind of question is that, Dad?”

“Touché.”

“Okay so… so- what- what do I do now?” Lucy asked, her voice quickly shifting from sass to scared, her words meek and timid as she waited for any sort of guidance about what to do. There was nothing that broke Javi’s heart more than seeing any of his girls anything but happy, and to hear the terror in Lucy’s voice made him absolutely crumble, especially when he definitely was not the ideal person to be aiding in this situation.

“Okay, well, uh- in the cabinet under the sink, there should be a pink box and a purple box in the back corner of the second shelf. Can um- can you uh, check to see if you can find them?”

A soft rustling came from behind the door as Lucy rummaged through the bathroom cabinet, the sound of several items falling to the floor in her scramble. “Okay, I- um, I found them. Which box do I use? Do I use both?”

“Purple. Take one out of the purple box.” Javi quickly responded, letting out a panicked gulp, wanting to make sure he was not adding to his already detrimental embarrassment of having to explain tampons to his daughter. “Okay uh- Jesus- okay you, um- you gotta just uh, pull the little paper part off the back…” He paused, trying to give time for Lucy to follow his inadequate directions, taking her silence as his cue to continue, “and then it should be sticky. And then um, then you gotta, uh- take the sticky side and-”

“Okay, yup, got it, please don’t say anymore.” Javi could practically feel Lucy wincing at his directions, leaving him anxiously drumming his fingers along his forearms as the toilet flushed and sink ran, the bathroom door slowly creaking open to reveal a very sheepish and embarrassed Lucy, eyes pinned to the ground to avoid any direct contact with her dad’s.

“Hey kiddo,” Javi grimaced, trying his best to casually greet his daughter, trying his best to keep things from getting any less weird than they already were, “How you uh, how ya-”

“Dad,” Lucy interrupted, holding up her hand to stop her dad, “I love you, and thank you, but I don’t wanna talk about this ever ever again, okay?”

“Understood.” The two nodded in a silent agreement, eyes still peeled in separate directions as Lucy sped off to her room, promptly closing the door behind her with a loud slam, leaving Javi alone and flabbergasted, sinking down with his back against the wall trying to process the shit storm that had just blown through the Peña household.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in an uncomfortable silence between Javi and the girls, his only peace offering being to bring back 3 bags worth of McDonald’s nuggets and fries, knowing that if Lucy was anything like you, the only thing that was going to bring her any sort of joy from her period pain was endless amounts of deep fried, crispy, salty potatoes, and that fast food (on top of their 10 dollars) was enough bribery to keep Elliot and Lucy from harassing their sister about the events of this morning.

When you arrived home, you were surprised to be greeted by nothing but the sound of the TV, setting your bags down at the front door as you made your way to the living room where you found Javi and the girls sitting on the couch, McDonald’s bags placed in between the uncharacteristically hardy distance now dividing your husband and daughters.

“Hey you guys, how’s it going?” You asked hesitantly, shooting Javi a concerned look at your family’s current set up.

“It’s uh…” Javi paused, looking back over at his girls, all 3 of them burning menacing glares at their dad to keep him from spilling the beans on this morning’s circus, “It’s been an interesting day.”

You cocked your head to the side, feeling even less reassured by the uncomfortable tension brewing in your living room, Javi and the girls now looking even more awkward and apprehensive than they had a few moments ago. You tried to give each of them the silent stare down to see if any of them would break, but whatever pact they had formed before your arrival was holding strong, no one cracking under your investigative pressure.

“Okay… Well, if you guys wanna tell me about it then-”

“NO.” Your daughters shouted in unison, frantically shaking their heads to stop your question.

“Like I said…” Javi grumbled, “It’s been… a day.”

Taglist

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko

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tabibitto · 7 months

Note

some more sebastian michealis content pretty please? ur writing was wonderful to read in "always yours", i love the way you described the bond he has with the reader

Twisted Love | Sebastian Michaelis

A/N: Thank you darling, Sebastian is actually my favorite person to write. His personality gives lots of room for creativity, so i hope you like this as well <3

CW: mentions of religion, female reader, fluff, hurt with comfort, angst, dissociation, panic attack (with comfort)

The afterlife is a topic that is constantly in question. The Buddhists will tell you reincarnation, the Christians will tell you heaven and hell. The Atheists will say there is nothing, or shrug and say 'i don't know'

Whatever the case may be. The only thing that was certain to you, was you already knew what was after death.

You had given it name, after all....

Sebastian Michaelis.

He was your life, death and the afterlife. You had bound your soul to whatever he had in that dark, sinister and ridiculously tall body of his.

If it even was a him. Demons were not restricted by something as trivial as genders and sex. He could take on the form of your mother for all he cared and watch as your face contorted into one of horror and concern. He could be your ideal lover on paper come to life. He could be a fictional man you fantasize over. It wouldn't matter to him as long as he got to fuck you and devour you after a certain amount of time, and your contract was finished

"Penny for your thoughts, my lady?" Said a deep and familiar voice that snapped you out of your existential crisis. Which was a much more reoccurring thing since the notion of God, demons, angels and Grim Reapers was apperently a real thing now. One you would encounter and ponder about almost everyday of your life

It amused Sebastian, how a tiny human racked her brain over a thing that was so normal to him, it was as natural and trivial as how humans viewed their reality. However it only concerned him on days where it made you dissociate or even have a panic attack when you began to think it over on top of your mental issues

"Darling?" He uttered the name so sweetly, so deadly. From the depth of his throat into a poisonous whisper in your ear. You shuddered, shivered at the hot water, you realized has been tepid for a while, and the sponge in Sebastian's hand had gone from firm and gentle scrubs to lazy little rubs.

"Yeah?" You whispered, your voice surprising you from how it cracked and sounded so...distant. Even to it's host.

"Y/N." The voice was more stern now. Deeper. You realized you hadn't responded to something he had said. Everything felt...timeless. Empty. So quiet your ears rang and you could see yourself across the room...

How your body swayed from one side to the other. Your nipples hardened by the now cold water. With a looming Shadow behind you... embracing you...trapping you....ripping into you—

"Mistress" Sebastian urged. Holding your face. His gloves and vest off. Leaving him in his white,button up shirt and black slacks. The seal of your binding bright and black on his sickly pale skin.

He leaned in, parting the knees that were hugging your chest so he could kneel between them. Uncaring of how water splashed around them and soiled his clothes. And how the temperature of the water began to warm with his presence

He gently cradled your head. Letting his scent, thick with a cologne you had picked bring you back, ground you. Your eyes were teary, blurry, black

Black beauty he had fallen in love with, strangely enough. Even stranger so, he didn't even know if it was love. He was a demon. Over 500 years old. He was around to bring the black death to all of Europe. He hadn't known, and still didn't if he had ever been human.

If Sebastian Michaelis, the butler of the Victorian era was ever human. He had never pondered it. Never cared. Why would he? He was a creature that could not die to anything of the world he helped shift, make and destroy, depending on what master he served

Sebastian never pondered the before, not..before you

Before you he would rip into any cheap soul he came into contact with to satiate his hunger. Before you, he had begun to starve himself, looking, searching for a specimen good enough for his tastes.

He still recalls how you cried out for him. For anyone to save you from your prison. How weak, delicate and fragile you were. So bony and teary eyed when his shadow appeared, ripped into every human who hadn't been you. Who hurt you

Perhaps even then he had already developed an obsession for you. A twisted devotion for you before he was even yours. Before you even called out for him, had you already been meant to belong to him amd solely his.

Just how you pondered the meaning and existence and purpose of humanity, he pondered you.

On nights like this when he held you in his arms, in the middle of a cold bathtub, dimly lit by a candle or two when you had your episodes. How you so desperately clung onto him. In your mind he didn't actually care. He had made it very clear the first couple times you tried to even utter any feelings for him, that he, a demon, was incapable and uninterested in feelings. Especially for someone of a life form so lowly as yours.

It was a necessary cruelty. Because even now he didn't know if he was feeling love for you, or a twisted, sickening obsession with you. All of you. There were days he wanted to kiss you sweetly, just as he was doing now. And days he wanted to rip into your chest, crawl into your skin and devour your soul.

He wouldn't call that love. Who would?

But if he had to call it love so he could feel your gaze soften, how your soul's taste would sweeten so much he could feel a burn in his throat without even tasting it. To see your teary eyes close and your soft face gently nuzzle into his chest in affection you tried so pathetically hard to convince yourself he could feel.

It was hard, really. To abide by the contract. When you would be so gentle with him of all people. Something would crawl into his chest where a heart would be and it would itch him to rip into himself and tear it out.

Whether he had been human once or not mattered not anymore. He told himself. But on days like this where he had wiped your tears, dressed you gently and tucked you beside him in your chambers, under your order for cuddles. He pondered if he was human, what could he have given you

Would he have been strong like he was now? Could he have the strength to protect you? Could he have bedded you as you liked? Gave you a child even, if it was what you wished? What would a child look like, one that carried his blood in their veins and your sweet face

Would he be able to care for you how he did now? How he pampered you and didn't let you lift a finger?

Would he have been a provider? Not let you work so you could stay at home, pretty and perfect for him to make love to when he came home tired,sweaty and longing to be in your arms

Sebastian pondered these feelings. Exhaustion, joy, pleasure, anger. Things that did not control him, that did not exist in him. In all his years of existence he never spared them a thought

But when he held you he felt them all.

A peculiar curiosity as to the what ifs of a human being. How they had so little time and spent most of it wasting away at a school or a job. How many never felt or experienced true love. How many never had someone to hold or be held. Never felt the joy of a son or a daughter or a loving parent

Did you feel these things? Before your parents died in that fire? Before you lost everything you had ever had and was taken as property for sick and twisted old men to do with you as they wanted? Did you ever want to be a mother? Live to die old?

.... Sebastian glared at your sweet little face. Puffy and pink from tears. Your lips swollen from his kisses. How your hands clung to his bare chest. Legs wrapped around his thigh. Your cold nose burrowed into his neck that sent shivers down his spine.

He didn't notice when he eyes began to water and harden. Glowing red under the moonlight through your window. When the warmth between you two became burning hot and his fangs dug into his lips

He listened as you occasionally whimpered when your dreams tried to darken into nightmares and he would hold you tighter, feel you soften under his arms.

Sebastian felt something warm and wet on his face. It wasn't your tears...no...no you had stopped crying hours ago and the sun was up...

It was up?

Sebastian shot up in bed. Breathing hard.

He couldn't breathe.

He glared at his palm. Wide eyed

It was dripping wet.

"Im... crying?"

#sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji sebastian #kuroshitpost #kuroshitsuji angst #black butler angst #sebastian michaelis #black butler fanfic #black butler smut #black butler #sebastian michaelis angst #sebastian michaelis fluff #sebastian michaelis smut #sebastian michaelis comfort #black butler ciel #black butler sebastian #black butler season 4

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cooliofango · 5 months

Note

pocket princess!! if you feel up to it could you pls write something fluffy with price x reader x soap. id love to see something lighthearted with price handling his loves <3!!

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Pairing: Price x Reader x Soap

Word Count: 727

Synopsis: A soft shared moment of peace between the three loved ones on a snowy night 🫶

A/N: Absolutely crying cause I couldn’t think of how to make this one longer 😭😭😭. I hated how long this was taking tho so I did my best, I hope you like it! I will continue to work on your Gaz ask and make it longer I promise 👀

Cw: None! It’s fluffy content between Bun’s favorite boys 🫶

Winter is always one of your favorite seasons. It definitely isn’t because of the snow. You hate having to constantly uncover the white flakes of frozen water from your car and pray that the doors aren’t frozen shut. It isn’t necessarily because of the holidays, even if they are always fun to celebrate with loved ones. It’s not even about the peppermint lattes you love to get on the way to work every morning when it’s being sold at your local cafe. Winter is your favorite season because of the moment you currently find yourself in.

The dim light of the television was the only thing illuminating your shared bedroom. The chatter of the late night show was quiet, just although loud to hear the men gossip about the actor’s movie and their experience on set. “It’s all rubbish, the reviews he’s speakin’ of..” You hear John lazily mumble against the right side of your collarbone, “The movie wasn’t any good.” The brit is against your side with an arm wrapped snugly just under your chest. His head rests on your shoulder, nearly falling asleep on you as the season’s early nights took its toll. The neatly trimmed mutton chops tickle your skin as he settles further against you. It’s a warm weight against you that you’ve grown familiar with, as well as come to love.

“Didn’t know ye watch cheesy rom coms, captain.” The Scottish accent of your other boyfriend fills your senses from your left and you turn to look at him with the same amused smile he’s wearing. Johnny’s eyes are closed, more in a half conscious state than John is. His head rests lower on your body, more against your chest than your collarbone, with an arm around your stomach, leaving you sandwiched in between the two men you loved so dearly. In addition, one of his legs is also laced with yours.

“Occasionally..” John mutters after a moment’s silence, earning a quiet chuckle from the scot.

The lighthearted banter between the two of them was always endearing to you, filling you with more warmth than the heat the two bodies around you did. It was more than welcome with how cold it’s been lately. You take a glance out the window on the left wall of the room, watching as large snowflakes fall down continuously. The hand on John’s shoulder absentmindedly toys with the hem of his sleeve while the other traces gentle patterns onto Johnny’s back.

These moments are scarce, but you cherish them with every fiber of your being. It’s not everyday you get to enjoy the peace and quiet. The worries that plagued your mind everytime the two went out for work are non-existent, even if it's temporarily. It is as if the dangers and horrors of the real world just aren’t there anymore and it was just the three of you.

A heavy sigh of content left Johnny and you could feel his weight against you become heavier as he relaxed. John places a soft kiss against your warm skin. You smiled lovingly at the feeling, tilting your head to rest against the top of his.

A yawn slips past your lips and John smiles against your collarbone at the sound, reaching behind him to pluck the remote from the bedside table. His movements are slow and careful, not wanting to jostle the two of you too much and disturb the peace that’s made its way into the atmosphere. “Get some sleep, sweetheart,” John whispered to you. He hit the power button, sending the room into total darkness before setting the remote back onto the table. His weight shifts back onto you, easily snuggling back into the spot against you. The blanket is pulled back over you before his arm returns back across your torso.

“You, too. G’Night, Johnny,” John said this with a gentle tap to Johnny’s nose with his knuckle. The scot simply huffs, already in the process of dozing off against you.

The room grows silent now, save for the collective breaths of relaxation being shared between the three of you. Your head falls to lean against the pillow under it, eyes falling shut. The warmth of the two men’s physical presence and love helps you to settle in a blanket of comfort. It works wonders lulling you to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Taglist 🏷️

@bunnyreaper @bookobsessedram @numberonetastemakerwhispers @a-very-bored-blogger @hawsx3 @ohworm-writes @tokusho @kitkatscabinet

#cooliofango writes #john price x reader #price x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #price x reader x soap #soap x reader x price #pricesoap x reader #soapprice x reader #requests open #reader insert #oneshots #requests #one shots #lovely bun 💕🐰

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lukall705 · 2 months

Note

Hello I've read your latest Chuuya x reader and I loved it! Can I ask for Chuuya x lazy, gamer reader? All she does is laying on couch/bed in her pajamas playing games on phone all day while kicking her feet.

Chuuya x lazy!gamer! reader

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Fem reader:3

I didn't know if you wanted smut or sfw so i just wrote both:3

i'm not sure this is the best but i hope you like it

______________________________________________________________

Sfw:

Chuuya loves you more then anything in the world

He loves watching you play your games if he has time

And he always buys you all the games you want(=^ ◡ ^=)

He gets a bit pissed and jealous if you only spend time on your games

He just grabs your game controler and doesn't give it back until you have cuddled for a while

Now, he does get worried about you, since spending all your time laying on the couch or the bed playing games isn't the healthiest thing in the world.

He thought you had some sort of mental illness or disorder that made it so you had no energy to do anything else(Ｔ▽Ｔ)

If you actually have one, then he would try his best to help you and to get you outside, since he would hate for his girlfriend to become sick!

But if it isn't because of mental issues, then he would be bit harsher and just drag you out while you whine

"Baby, this is for your own good! now stop whining!"

He plays with you sometimes

He plays cod but is ass at it so all he really does is scream and throw his computer across the globe

If you get him to play a horror game hes gonna scream at every little sound even if its his own footsteps.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT FAT BITCH" "Why the fuck is his ass out" "WHY IS THE HOSPITAL ON FIRE-" (Any outlast fans? 😢)

He has some sort of heart attack every time a jumpscare comes

You guys have fun game nights where you play games like mario cart or wii sports

Chuuya is really good at wii sports and wont let you win easily

Smut:

Does that thing where hes fucking you from behind or eating you out from behind while you try to play a game(you end up being a moaning mess)

He gets hard from seeing your panties from under a shirt you're wearing

Is the type of guy to grab what every you're playing on and just throw it somewhere and fuck you into the couch or being embaressed that he got hard just from your panties and going into another room to masturbate

you guys have tried to fuck each other while in cosplay

He didn't really like it so he just took of the cosplays and fucked

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Requests are still open, but just know if you request something its gonna take a while for me to write it since i usually take a 1 to 3 day break after doing one request!!

#bsd #bsd x reader smut #bungo stray dogs #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya smut #dazai smut #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bsd smut #bsd chuuya #bsd x reader #chuuya bsd

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tropicallaserbeams · 3 months

Text

I’m not really what you’d call a fan of Poppy Playtime, but Chapter 3 has me in a chokehold.

Like, there’s a seven year old child who was either abandoned by his parents or lost them, experiencing trauma at such a young age, only to be experimented on and isolated and traumatized further at the place he was supposed to go to be safe. And his only friend is a metal monster, full or wires and possibly meat. Just horrifying. But it’s the only friend this kid has. And this monster loves him.

This monster loves him enough that, when this child is mortally wounded during their joint escape attempt, he saves his life and brings him to the doctors, instead of taking the opportunity to get away from the torture he, himself had been enduring. The Prototype could have left Theodore behind but decided to save him anyway. Because he did care about him.

And The Prototype has to sit by while his best friend is twisted and turned into a monster, just like him. And has to sit by while Theodore recovers in an underground prison, only allowed out to use his new red smoke to cause the other children terror in their sleep. It must have felt so hopeless for both of them until the hour of joy, where they could, in their pain and rage, finally stop the horror being inflicted on them and on the children and other experiments. Sure, some of the staff were innocent for sure, but to them it mattered more that the suffering finally ended.

Together, for an entire decade, they protect each other after that. Of course Catnap sees The Prototype as a god. He’s the only good he’s ever had in the world.

And then, when the main character injures Catnap and he’s on the verge of death again, the Prototype has to make the choice to save him once again. Only this time there’s no doctor to make him a new body. He has to join the Prototype’s instead. They probably both thought that day would come eventually, but the pain they probably both felt, when that skeletal, metal hand ripped through Catnap’s brain, must have been heart breaking.

I just have so much emotional brainrot about the two of them and I’m inconsolable.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime spoilers #catnap #the prototype #experiment 1006 #chapter 3 #op #I’m in the prototype did nothing wrong camp and you cant change my mind #theodore grambell #mob games #horror games #mascot horror

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writinginthetwilight · 1 month

Text

Knock, knock.

Eddie Munson x Neighbour Reader.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone. AFAB reader. Stress. Strong language. Nightmares. Horror-esk/creepy vibes.. Hopefully. See Masterlist for full list of warnings.

Authors note: Thank you for all the love on the last part of this fic. I promise more Eddie is coming. As before all my love to @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for writing the original prompt that birthed this weird little world I'm making.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you bye.

Part 3- Accusations made in barely lit corridors.

Nobody lives there.

Nobody lives there. But they will send someone around in the morning to check out the scar.

Nobody lives there, but there is very much somebody living there and you aggressively hammered on their door.

At night.

Alone.

Oh god.

The realisation that there could be a murderer living next door and you just swanned up offering yourself on a platter, hits you fast, a sudden wave of nausea making the bitter taste of bile coat the back of your throat.

Rationalising thoughts pitter patter through, few and far between the spiralling dread and self deprecation as you hold your head in your hands.

If they were in hiding they were not being very subtle.

They brought people around.

More likely squatters passing through.

Or a ghost.

Or whatever peers through the bathroom door at you when you're under the cloak of sleep, trapped in your bed and unable to move.

Shit.

Shaking legs take you to the kitchen, the faucet spluttering cold water into the tall frosted glass tumbler and in the back of your mind, a voice says you were meant to get that fixed.

The cold drink makes your chest feel less tight, lets you breathe a little easier as your weight leans against the countertop, you try to concentrate on the feeling of sunlight warming your cheek through the window. But a door slamming shut next door forces you upright.

Adrenaline prickles the ends of your fingers and sends your glass of water skidding over the worktop, you scramble to stabilise it, thoughts tumble quicker than you can collect as you stare at the adjoining wall.

You can hear him moving around and curiosity makes you slowly creep over and press your ear to the wall then, like it so often does, music blares to life on the other side.

A soft curse.

The music lowers.

Footsteps move behind you and your eyes track the sound up and down the room, now sparsely filled with furniture and nicknacks. It's laughable that you thought they would soften his sounds.

The music doesn't have the definition it usually does, it's softer, and you have to strain more than usual to catch what song it is.

You press your ear back to the wall, the music there clearer.

He moved it.

Radio, speakers, whatever. He's moved it further away.

The notion softens your thoughts.

He has a life set up there.

He could be hiding.

Could have found a dry place to call home for a while.

Could just need a break.

You quickly grab your phone, typing out an email back to your landlord.

Tomorrow will be fine, it would have to be early because I have work. I only assumed it was number 5, but realistically it could be from above or outside, maybe number 7?

You chew on your thumb staring at the screen, a silent argument of conflicting thoughts steamrolling you until you finally press send, quickly locking your phone tossing it away.

He starts to sing and the sound accompanies you as the mottled yellow paper rips from your notebook at an angle, to-do lists and numbers you need to call come Monday revealed and quickly forgotten as you push it back into its drawer.

Hey, it's no6.

Still, no way he's getting your name.

Someone's coming around tomorrow morning to take a look at some things in my apartment.

Just a heads up they might need to come round your place, if whatever is wrong crosses over onto your side.

Thanks for keeping the noise down, appreciate it.

It's a white lie, you don't even know if they will need to go around if your email works, but just in case, it gives him a chance to move on without getting in trouble.

Less chance of him thinking you complained and holding a vendetta against you.

Silently staring down at the note, you run your nail down the fold until the crease is crisp, the thickest corner sharp, pressing into the pad of your thumb.

It's broad daylight, this was fine.

You try and open the door as quietly as you can but she's stubborn, the yank needed to open it causes you to stumble and you just catch it from announcing your movements.

The corridor’s empty but doesn't hold the cloying silence that was last present when you approached next door, lazy murmurs of life on a Sunday quietly audible.

You quickly crouch and stuff the note under, your hurried movements scrunch the paper at an angle where it won't slip through and you start to panic, quietly begging it to behave, scrambling quickly away when it finally slips past the threshold.

You latch the chain, the lock clicking behind it and back away slowly, holding your breath as you wait for a sign that he's gotten it.

Nothing comes through, his singing has receded off and you're left with the dulcet tones of.

Metallica?

You laugh gently at yourself.

Jesus christ.

Settling back onto the couch the TV that's long gone into standby winks back to life, and you frown as you try to pick up where you left off.

Password or username is incorrect.

Try again.

He doesn't come round and the rest of the evening and your lives move in tandem, your ex had changed all passwords on your shared accounts Spotify, Netflix anything you shared even though you always paid half.

That petty son of a bitch.

You refuse to speak to him and ask him to give you the login details, that’s what he's hoping. You can manage until you get paid.

So you get out the old stereo, set up some old CDs and it hums away until sleep finally takes you.

You're roused from sleep sometime later, consciousness trickling in as you toss and turn in soft blankets, the bed creaking weakly below you.

Drip.

Stilling, you listen. The sound seems closer than it should like it doesn't drift from its origin, just an empty echo in the air around you.

You look to the bathroom, the doors closed but the bedroom doors ajar, light just beyond it and you let the sheets slip from you as you make your way over.

You wince at the thud the door makes when you try to open it, the sound abnormally loud as it hits against something, a bookshelf blocking the way.

Squeezing yourself out you're faced with an uncomfortably familiar scene of your few belongings now crowded and warped on a backdrop of shadow.

An inhale sticks in your throat as you watch the scar still drip, the small puddle now completely coating the countertop, the carpet around it sodden and inky black.

It ripples as you walk towards it, watching how it inches over the linoleum floor towards the looming black.

The sound of your bathroom door opening behind you is unmistakable and you turn, eyes wide as the darkness hums behind you, the floorboards creak in your bedroom.

Light dances like last time over the wall and you rush over hoping for the relief of consciousness as you push against it only to fall straight through.

Starburst's dance across your vision and you hiss from the ache in your knees as they hit the murky green carpet below.

The small room feels instantly claustrophobic bathed in a light much softer than the glowing wall behind you should emit.

It's crowded, cluttered with belongings, discarded boxes and flyers, bags, shoes and jackets. A sideboard with a lamp and an old record player are all stuffed inside the small space.

A frosted glass door is your only exit and you wipe the dust that coats your hands down your clothes as you quickly move through it. Turning, you wait for any silhouettes to appear but only the light behind it glitters.

Your back hits a refrigerator as you step away, alphabet magnets clattering to the floor below and skittering away into the galley kitchen where you now stand in.

Take-out cartons and empty glass soda bottles litter the side with the makings of meals and dirty dishes, a layer of dust beneath them remains thick and untouched. There's no drip here that you can see but you can still hear the sound, although it's garbled like it's struggling to find you.

The stillness of the room makes you jumpy as you travel down to the end and turn to a small hallway with two doors.

The wall at the end dances with light.

You look back over your shoulder, wondering where the weird corridor of rooms is taking you and hoping that you'll wake up soon.

The doors are ajar and you peek inside, the first’s a bathroom, small and dark, but the second opens to reveal the rose hues of a sunrise that stem from a dark window.

It's a bedroom.

Lived in and yet somehow like it's been untouched for years, the paint peels from the walls and dust kicks up around your footsteps, but the bed's unmade, guitars in the corner catch the light, polished and well kept.

Models sit along the shallow windowsill, and your fingers run against the dents and notches where the gloss is applied too thickly.

“Shit!”

The voice is followed by a crash that has you spinning and exiting the room quickly, the door slamming closed behind you almost of its own accord.

Footsteps fall in tandem with yours as you rush to the end of the hallway, the wall gives way and your legs catch something and you fall. Harder than before, awkwardly and you wheeze as the air is knocked from your lungs.

You can hear them approaching, an outline of a body appears above you pressing against the curtain of light, blood rushes in your ears and you gasp as your body suddenly comes crashing back to earth.

You try to make yourself look as unphased as possible at the fact that there's a complete stranger standing in your home at 7 am.

Your bedroom’s filled with the soft light of early morning and all is quiet.

Charlie, the maintenance guy. As he introduced himself.

He refused your offer of a drink after greeting you and unprompted, spent his first few minutes in your home showing you pictures of his grandkids on his phone.

You remind him of his eldest, he told you with a broad smile and with a clap of his hands he rubbed them together and asked what we were looking at.

You pointed to the ceiling, his eyes trailing up and a low whistle escapes him as he walks below it, hands on hips.

“Rupert said there was a hole but thats-”

“A scar.” you say.

And he gives you an amused smile as he nods.

The small silver ladder clacks as he climbs it and you watch on as he makes non-committal grunts and noises at it.

“Can you do anything?”

He shines a light into the places where the plaster never took, darkness peeking through and then promptly clicks it off, rubbing his chin he climbs back down the ladder.

“You said you've been hearing neighbours through it?”

You stutter a little, “Well yes, I think, I'm not entirely sure where, but like, it echoes sort of as if it's through a vent?”

He hums to himself again, arms crossed, eyes following it down the length of the room.

“Not a whole lot I can do if there's a vent coming through there, but the cavity isn't deep enough to house one I wouldn't think. It shouldn't have been left like that.” he tsks.

“Some cowboys will of charged him arm and a leg.”

He slips on the small glasses that have been hanging around his neck as he jots down notes on a small notepad.

“I'll see what the big man says, can't promise anything though, it's a big job going to be pricey”

He gathers his things and leaves you his card in case you need anything done, because ‘Rupert is useless'.

Alone in the room, you stare up.

You feel like it knows.

“You brought this on yourself” you whisper to it as you collect your belongings.

Walking through the door you pause finding the man who you'd just left hunched over in the doorway of No. 5.

Changing the locks. You frown to yourself as you prepare to say a polite goodbye but the words get caught in your throat.

The doorway opens to a small room, with green carpet, a frosted glass door to the left glittering with the light coming in behind it.

“Hey. Can I take a look?” you don't recognise your own voice, words coming out of their own accord.

He looks up at you and you try to make a face of indifference, he shrugs.

“I guess so, just watch out it's been empty for a while. It'll only be a minute. ”

A horrible sense of deja vu washes over you as you make your way into the kitchen.

It's a snapshot of your dream, but void of all signs of life.

Dust, dirt and debris line the room like you remember but there's a gap where the refrigerator should be, the sink empty. You turn the faucet and it moans spurting murky brown water with a wheeze before clean water runs freely.

The windows are stained with the same sepia tint that you scrubbed from yours.

The corridor looms dark to your right no dancing walls of light only the two doors slightly ajar.

Bathroom. Bedroom.

You creep slowly towards them holding your breath your mind screaming that this isn't right.

But you need to see something different something that doesn't line up with your vivid memory of this place.

Your stomach drops at the sight of the bathroom.

Small and dark.

And as you push open the bedroom door, it makes you feel motion sick, like your brain can't quite take in what it's seeing.

It's the same no bed or posters or guitars. But it's the same room and as you approach the window frame you swallow harshly as your fingers touch the same notches and grooves that you had seen before.

“Done.”

You almost fall to your knees, your heart leaping into your throat.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” Charlie says chuckling from his place in the doorway.

“No, sorry it's fine.” you brush past him quickly and into the corridor.

He locks the door behind you and you look over it for a moment.

Thoughts finally falling away from the surreal past few minutes.

“I can see him now. Stupid smug bastard”

You hope he finds somewhere better to sleep than there.

Janet's squinting face is suddenly moving as she picks up her phone and moves you along with her.

You'd managed to thoroughly freak yourself out as the day wore on, and due to your lack of familiarity with your coworkers, it meant she was now your escort back to the apartment tonight.

“Jesus, get away from the window.”

“I could let his tires down.”

“I feel like that's slightly extreme.” You laugh but when she doesn't respond, still squinting out her living room window at your ex your tone changes.

“No, property damage.” you hiss quietly looking around at the other passengers on the bus “He changed my login he didn't kill my dog. I'll sort it all when I get paid.”

She hums unconvinced.

You spent more time next door at hers than you did in your own home to the end of your relationship. She was the only one who stood behind your decision to leave. She always hated the guy.

“You spoken to him? ”

“No, blocked him the day I moved, after the 30th missed call.”

Her attention is suddenly back on you, a frown deepening the creases in her brow.

She shakes her head, scowling through the window once more, before your being whisked away with her again “How far are we?”

“Mine's the next stop, thank you again by the way.”

“Don't worry about it darling, it seems I'm your protector from obnoxious men.”

“Janet the protector.” the last syllable is lost to a yawn and you open your eyes to see a tender expression on her face as she looks back at you.

“You okay?”

“I'm just tired, nightmares, it's been a lot.”

“I'm proud of you, you know.”

“Don't.”

“What? I am.”

“You're going to make me cry on the bus”

When you finally arrive at your stop, a sea of black umbrellas and hurried footsteps accompany you as you retell your dream as the rain steadily soaks you.

“It was just so weird. It was the exact layout” you say opening the door to your building.

“Maybe you lived there in a past life? Or was the original floor plan on the website when you were looking?”

“Maybe?”

The entrance is looming as you close the door behind you. You're stuck in place and Janet must catch the look on your face.

“Here we go, you got this.”

You don't feel like you have this.

The elevator rattles to the third floor, the metal gate creaking as you open it up and walk down the corridor to your apartment.

“Nobody's waiting.” You whisper.

“I told you.”

Your steps quicken as you pass his door, fumbling with your keys and pushing harshly, the door slamming into the wall and you quickly shut it behind you.

There's no noise and Janet stares at you as you pause for any signs that he's around.

“We clear?”

“I think so," you say quietly walking to the kitchen and propping her up against a bottle of oil on your counter.

“Good, can I finally get the tour of-” . She pauses frowning at you as you shrug out of your drenched jacket.

“ What are you wearing?”

“ Work clothes?” You say looking down at the rigid clothing you'd put on this morning.

“You look like a bit of a cunt.”

You bark a laugh, grimacing at yourself as she smiles brightly at you.

You're not fully awake.

“Yeah I know.”

But your heart’s pounding in your ears.

Music's blaring from the other room.

You're instantly up, stumbling in the dark through the vague outline of your room, unfocused and pixelating darkness leading you out of your room.

You slap the wall, finally catching the light switch.

The stereo is blaring and you wince at the volume as you walk to it, aggressively turning it off.

The music stops.

On your side.

But the same song continues on the other side of the wall, pacing footsteps echo out behind you.

Back and forth back and forth

No.

You back away from the sounds, stomach-churning, then dropping.

Yellow mottled paper sits at the foot of your front door.

Trembling fingers pick it up, unfold it, it's your own note.

Tacked onto the bottom a reply.

Are you dead?

Next.

#Stranger Prompts #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things #my writing #Spotify #SoundCloud

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deputyrook · 6 months

Text

Impressions- 4/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader (18+)

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Welcome to the point of no return.)

Word count: 4147

NOTE: I have made an executive decision. The reader has a vagina. In other news, this chapter is explicit.

The fic is now 18+ (but why are you reading a saw fic if you're under 18...?) If you don't like smut uhhh idk skip through this one, I guess. Sorry!

WARNINGS: Explicit sex, degradation (minor), manipulation, corruption, stockholm syndrome, general saw levels of horror.

When you wake up again, you do so suddenly, with a gasp. It's like you're taking your first deep breath of fresh air after being trapped underwater.

"You're awake!" Kerry says with a gasp of her own, the sound of her voice coming from the right of where you're lying. Cushioned in blankets and bandages, you feel a little restrained, and have to fight the desire to rip yourself out of bed.

It takes another moment for your awareness to fully kick in. The world remains dark. Your ability to see is simply gone, snuffed out like a candle.

Instead, you can feel. You can tell Kerry is there, to your right, but also that Mark Hoffman is sitting somewhere off to your left. You feel his presence like a beacon- roiling aggression under a composed front, with a deep sense of pride. His concern is sharper than a knife point.

But is it concern for you, or concern for what you might say, now that you've woken up?

Stretching out from your point of origin, you can feel pinpricks of presence, almost overwhelming in number. Fleeting emotions of loss, panic, sorrow, hope, and anger flit past you, but you're able to keep your distance from them, without getting sucked in to the whirlpool of other people's feelings.

That's new.

"Hey Ally," you croak, your voice hoarse, "How about that, huh? Looks like I made it onto Jigsaw's radar."

You feel Kerry's guilt before she speaks, pouring out of her. Gently, she reaches forward and takes your right hand into hers. My fault, my only friend, first Eric and now this. And I wasn't even the first to notice-

"Um, where's Prawn?" You ask, touching your wrist gingerly with your free hand. It's itchy, and you can feel thick gauze wrapped around your wounds. By the smell of disinfectant and the sound of distant beeping, you're fairly certain you're in a hospital bed.

"He's fine," Kerry says, her voice wavering and watery, "I've been watching him. He's been worried sick, you know."

"I guess that makes three people, at least," you say, nodding your head over toward you guess Mark Hoffman is sitting. Off in that direction, you hear the rustle of clothing, like someone is sitting up.

"You can see me?" You hear him ask, groggy and confused.

"No," You reply softly, "Lucky guess."

"There was no tape left behind," Kerry murmurs, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, "We don't know why you were taken. Usually, there's a tape. Were there any instructions left for you? Any clues that you can remember?"

"Christ Kerry, they've just woken up," Mark mutters. With a creek of his chair, you hear him stand, and then a slow sound of heavy footsteps indicate to you that he's walking over to your bedside.

He's been sleeping by your bed, you note. Probably because he's worried you're going to break down and tell Kerry- Mark Hoffman is working with Jigsaw and he burned out my fucking eyes!

"You know how he likes to play with the detectives hunting him, Ally," You say instead, dodging the question about the tape. You have no idea how to answer that. "I'm your best friend. And..."

You pause, mid-sentence. Frustrated, angry, and more than a little hysterical, it's dawning on you now that you're never going to see again. It's at least partially the fault of the man to your left.

But when Mark reaches out and takes your other hand into his, turning it over to trace a spiral shape into your palm, your stomach still flips. The mounting attraction and sexual tension between you hasn't vanished just because you're pissed off and hurt.

Unfortunately.

"And we're seeing each other," Mark adds, simply, "Makes sense he'd go after you."

"Sorry?" Kerry sputters. She actually lets go of your hand, she's so shocked, "What the hell happened to not interested?"

"I knew you'd make a big deal about it," you mumble, going with the lie as your cheeks burn. You hate lying to Kerry, and not just because you hate lying in general.

"You told her you weren't interested?" Mark asks, and you think you can hear a hint of real amusement in his tone.

"Well, I could tell it was a lie," Kerry replies, "but-"

"HELLO?" You raise your voice, cutting her off, "Jigsaw victim? Serial killer targeted me? Deep, deep trauma? Not allowed to make fun of me right now!"

Kerry laughs, and you think you can hear a note of relief in it.

"This is why I love you," She says fondly. "Jigsaw would never be able to kill you. You're the most resilient motherfucker I've ever met. Who jokes at a time like this?"

"Yes, rub in how weird I am right now," You reply, wrinkling your nose. You let go of Mark's hand and push yourself up to a seated position, and then throw off your blankets. Sliding over to the right side of the bed, you sit on the edge of the mattress, suddenly unsure of yourself.

The entire world is still out there.

"Hey, that was a compliment," Kerry says, "You might want to take it easy, though. For real, you've been through a lot."

Heavy footsteps walk around to the edge of the bed you're sitting on, and you can feel Mark Hoffman, standing in front of you. As you reach out, you feel an arm to steady you, and you grab hold of it as you pull yourself up. Beside you, you hear Kerry stand as well.

"Why are two of the three lead detectives on the Jigsaw-Investigations-Unit hanging out by my hospital bed, anyway?" You ask, brushing her worry off, "Shouldn't you be out there casing the s- wherever I was found?"

"Consider it cased," Kerry replies with a sigh, missing your slip-up, "You're our main lead right now. We're going to need to take your statement at the station, once you feel well enough to go."

Mark Hoffman is a stable anchor to lean on. Looping your hand through the crook of his arm, you consider the endless, vast sea of darkness surrounding you. In the far-off distance, various abstractions graze against your awareness, different from the more localized flares of feeling.

You focus and reach out to one of them, with a slight tilt of your head.

A flash, in your mind, of a man and a woman you've never seen before, side-by-side. Her, with dark tightly curled hair, full lips, and decisiveness like an arrow. Him, with a strong jaw, dark eyes, and a barely contained mania that threatens to leak out from the seams. He knows the water just as you do. Neither of you will drown.

You don't know who they are, but you know they will be important.

"Did you... sense anything?" Kerry asks hesitatingly, as though worried asking the question will offend you, "When Jigsaw took you, or when you were in the trap?"

"Too much," You answer cagily, "But I didn't have time to make sense of it. I was a little distracted by the looming threat of death, in my defence."

"Fair enough," Kerry replies wearily. Something beeps, off by where she's standing, and she curses.

"I have to run," She says, "Our tech guy just got in and I have to brief him on the investigation. Hoffman, are you able to take them to the police station for the statement?"

"Sure thing," He responds, "I was hoping we could talk, anyway."

"Right," Kerry remarks. There's a long pause, and she adds with a grumble, "So weird. I don't know how to feel about this."

You fake a grin, and wave her off. As soon as you sense her presence fading, along with the sound of her footsteps clicking down the hall, you turn to Mark Hoffman, let go of his arm, and whack him on his broad chest.

"You son of a bitch," you hiss, whacking him again.

"Hey, hey-" He snaps back, grabbing your hands and holding them firmly in place before you can hit him again, "Stop it."

"I should tell everyone," you whisper angrily, "You took my fucking eyes, Mark."

"John Kramer took your eyes. You think I wanted to put you in that thing?" You try to break free of his grip on your wrists, without success.

"And you just do everything he says, is that right? Two hundred and fifty pounds between him and Amanda both, and you were helpless?" You say, yanking your arms free. Your brain buzzes with the desire to hurt him the way he's hurt you, and you conclude that it's not by hitting him again.

"You think Angela would approve of that?" You whisper to him, "Do you think she-"

Strong hands reach out and shove you backward. You hit the wall, hard. It's disorienting, and with no way to anticipate it or brace yourself, pain blossoms across your back. You feel Hoffman press you against the wall, one of his hands grabbing you by the jaw.

"Watch your fucking mouth," he snarls, keeping his voice low. It's a dangerous tone, and you can't help but feel satisfied, knowing that you're managed to get under his skin. Once again, you've caught a glimpse of the predator hiding under his cool exterior.

Pressing in so close to you, you can smell him, a light scent of amber and cedar cologne. Trying to catch the breath that's been knocked out of you, you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, panting, so close that it's brushing against yours.

A different sensation floods you, your anger melting into molten arousal. The tension between you feels wound to a snapping point, your blood flushing to your cheeks and causing your skin to tingle. His grip on your jaw is tight, almost painful, but you tilt up your chin ever-so-slightly, baring your neck.

You feel like you're going a little bit insane, frankly. Who could blame you, after what you've been through recently? Your body shouldn't be reacting like this, not when you should be furious with him.

But fuck it.

"Or what?" You whisper, "You going to teach me a lesson, Detective?"

Your taunt seem to hang in the air, and although you can't see Mark's reaction, you hear a noise of frustration escape from him. The hand holding your jaw moves to tilt your chin up.

"You've got a smart mouth," He mutters angrily, the pad of his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Mark leans his face in close, and you can feel his breath on your neck. One of his thighs presses forward, between your legs. Pinned against the wall, you couldn't wiggle out of this if you wanted to- and you don't want to.

"You really sure you want to test me?" He murmurs in your ear, both a threat and a promise. With your heart beating so wildly that you're sure he can hear it, you try to shift, but his weight against yours keeps you pressed firmly in place. The friction from his thigh, and the heat of his breath on your ear, causes you to let out an embarrassing little groan of pleasure.

"Mark-"

"Not your smartest idea," Mark lets out an irritated huff of breath, and another beat passes between you before he continues, voice rough. "You know, I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I met you, sweetheart."

Fuck. Heat and need crawl up your spine.

"When you were threatening me in your car?" You ask a little too breathlessly, with a raise of your eyebrow. Gathering your bearings, you slip your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him.

"Yeah," Mark answers, lips and teeth grazing your neck, and you shiver. You need more of his mouth on you, now.

Mark freezes, seeming to be momentarily distracted by something.

"Door's open," He mutters to you.

"It is?" You whisper back in worry, grabbing the fabric of his jacket and squirming in his hold, "Can you...close it?"

"You don't want anyone else to see you like this?" He asks with a smirk in his voice, pulling back. You can almost feel his eyes running over you, looking you up and down, "Only me, huh?"

He pulls back not a moment too soon. You can feel another presence approaching your room, and you tap his shoulder hurriedly.

"Someone's coming." Regrettably, and with a grunt of annoyance, Mark lets go of you, taking a step back. You miss the warmth of his body immediately, but you hear someone enter the room not long after.

"Oh, you're up!" A male voice calls out, alarmed, "Detective, please save your questions for later," Footsteps walk over to where the two of you stand, and the voice adds, "I need to check your eyes. Assuming everything looks...stable, there will be some paperwork to go through, and then you should be cleared for discharge."

You hear Mark sigh. An alarm rings out- from his phone, if you had to guess- and he quickly turns it off. Something about the noise nags at your awareness, like you know innately that something is off about it.

"We can do the statement at the station tomorrow. But let me know when you get home," Mark remarks, before adding, "I'll see you later."

And then he's gone too, leaving you with the doctor in a darkened world.

"There's a lot we should go over," The doctor tells you sheepishly, "Things are going to be very different for you, now."

You have a feeling he's right.

---

You are supposed to have a long, cold shower when you get home. You are supposed to come to your senses, re-evaluate your choices, and examine what the hell you thought you were doing earlier.

After thinking it over, you are supposed to realize you're acting rashly, being ridiculous, and playing with fire- you can't want Detective Mark Hoffman, knowing what you know about him. What he does to people, and what he did you.

That... does not happen.

By the time you've fumbled your way through your apartment door, cane in hand and sunglasses on, your desire for him has increased tenfold. It only increases further when you realize you're alone in the apartment, with not even your cat to greet you- Kerry must still have Prawn at her place.

It all seems horribly lonely, all of a sudden. You'll never again see your cat's sleepy expression, or the soft fur on his belly when he rolls over. You won't get to look at the art pieces hung up on your walls, or curl up on your couch to watch a movie in the same way as before. As you stand in your entryway, it dawns on you that you're not even sure how you'll make dinner tonight.

Right now you're feeling helpless.

Hmm. Had you thought those words before?

You may be Kerry's only real friend. But she is also yours. And you could use someone to help you adapt to your new circumstances. You could call her, and she would come over to help you. Make you dinner, clean up your place.

But if you're being honest with yourself, Kerry isn't the person you want in your apartment right now, and you don't want to work on adjusting your life. You want Mark here, to fuck you within an inch of your life and make you forget, paradoxical as it is.

Carefully, you make your way over to your couch. It takes a couple of tries with your cell phone, but with the accessibility features turned on, you eventually find Mark's number.

You hesitate.

If you sleep with Mark Hoffman tonight, that's crossing a line that you're not going to be able to uncross. What would Kerry think, to know that all along, not only have you known who the secret Jigsaw accomplice is, but that you chose to fuck him after you found out?

It's not the heat of the moment, anymore. You are here, alone, with a clear head and the time to reconsider and back out of this. You can even just visit Kerry, grab your cat, and skip town. If you keep messing around, you're going to end up actually helping a serial killer- if you're not already.

The notion doesn't bother you. Not as much as it should.

"Hey. I'm at home," You say into the phone, trying and failing to sound casual, "You remember my address, right? I could... use some help. If you're free." You pause, and add in for good measure, "It's the least you can do. You know, considering."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there soon," Mark Hoffman replies curtly, before he hangs up the phone.

You try to tidy up before he arrives, kicking the clothes you can find into your closet and gently putting away some dishes. What use are psychic powers if you keep nailing yourself on your kitchen island every time you walk past?

It isn't long before you feel Mark's presence entering the edge of your awareness. You can sense him, and the electric feeling up pent up energy as he approaches. What's the radius on that? You'll need to experiment, later. The thought of him approaching makes you nervous, your heart fluttering in anticipation and early arousal.

You open the door for him just before he goes to knock on it.

"Hey," You say, "I know, the glasses are a new look, I-"

He is shoving you back into the apartment, mouth pressing against you before you can react. Walking you backward, he is kissing you insistently, aggressively. A hand on your waist squeezes, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Heat seems to radiate from everywhere he touches, sending a heady need coursing through your body.

Mark leaves you momentarily. You hear your apartment door closing and latching shut, and the click of a lock. Then he's back, his mouth on yours again, hard, unrelenting kisses leaving you dizzy.

Every movement is dominant, unyielding. Mark Hoffman leaves no quarter as he groans into your mouth, a low and hungry noise.

"You want me to take care of you?" He groans, low and rough against your mouth, "You need me to fuck you until you go dumb, baby?"

You let out a needy whine in the affirmative, nodding your head as you clench your thighs together. His hands grip your hips, holding you tight in a way that makes your entire body tremble. You know that your face is burning, and it's embarrassing, how quickly you're falling apart under his attention- and he's barely even touched you yet.

Suddenly his hands have left your hips, and you feel a palm flat on your chest, pushing you back. Your lower back stings as it smacks against the kitchen island, and once again, you're pinned. Exactly where he wants you.

"Mark," you gasp out. You can feel the warmth of his body, so close to yours, but he doesn't touch you yet. You reach out your hands to touch his broad chest, running them across the fabric of his shirt, but he doesn't reciprocate.

"What do you want? Use your words," He murmurs into your ear, condescending and teasing. Shame makes your cunt clench.

"Touch me, please-"

"That it? You just want me to touch you?" He mocks. You can hear the wolfish grin in his voice. His hands trail up your body and under your shirt, sliding across your smooth skin. Surprisingly deft fingers pinch one of your nipples, rolling it in a way that makes you cry out and grind your hips forward, frustratingly, against nothing.

"Jesus, Mark," You snap, desperation straining your voice, "You're a dick. I want you to fuck me until I forget my name, is that better?"

He actually laughs, before sliding a hand down the front of your pants. Another gasp falls from your lips, followed by a ragged moan as his fingers slip past your underwear to find you soaked. Calloused fingers tease you as you lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder.

Bliss electrifies your body, and you can't stop the whimpers and gasps that escape from you as you as Mark harshly encircles your clit. The pace is merciless, and you squirm under his touch, the pleasure mounting quickly.

God, but you can't even think. You hold onto his arm and moan his name, a sound broken by lust.

"Fuck," He hisses with a groan of his own, "Can't wait any longer."

With a yank, your pants and underwear are around your ankles. You barely have time to step out of them before Mark has flipped you around, bending your body over the kitchen island. His movements are forceful, almost brutal in their execution.

Mark's body leans over yours, and you can feel the press of his hard cock through his pants as he lays his body over yours to speak in your ear.

"You're so fucking needy. You're going to take me so well, aren't you sweetheart?"

It only takes a moment for him to pull back and undo his pants. A jagged, filthy moan is torn from you as he presses his cock inside of you, and with a snap of his hips, he fills you completely. His hands grip your hips so tightly that you're sure they're going to leave bruises across your skin.

His cock feels perfect inside of you, so thick and full that you're sure it's going to drive you insane. It's going to ruin you.

Gripping onto the edges of the kitchen island for purchase, you whimper as he begins to move.

His weight bears down on you, the hard edge of the counter nearly cutting into your stomach. You can't find it in you to care, not with the way that Mark starts to thrust into you, setting a ruthless pace.

He fucks you hard.

"Mark," you eke out, barely able to hold onto the counter. Your entire body jolts with each snap of his hips, slammed again and again against the surface. Heat is building in your stomach, burning through your core.

"Come on baby," He says, voice almost hoarse with lust, "You're making me feel so good. Come on, come on, come on my cock."

A hand reaches around your body, and his fingers find your clit again. They rub harsh, hot circles into your skin. The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure taking you to the edge of your release and then kicking you over it. You feel utterly helpless, utterly undone.

You writhe under Mark Hoffman, coming with a cry.

And your reality seems to crack apart. A million futures narrow to a thousand, and as you breathe, you feel the world breathe with you. You feel Mark behind you, inside of you, his cruelty and his oppression, the hunter, the killer, the lover, the sinner-

It's going to rain blood down upon him. Upon you both.

With a few more brutal thrusts inside of you, Mark grunts as he reaches his own climax, slowing to hard, deliberate strokes as he spills inside of you. You moan weakly, already sore, as he continues to move until he's fully spent. Eventually, his movements stop, and you can feel as his cock finishes pulsing inside of you.

Slowly, Mark's hands let go of your waist. He pulls back, off of you, and steps away.

You peel yourself off of the counter and stumble over to your couch, laying down as you catch your breath. After a few minutes, you hear Mark sit down beside you. A hand grazes your leg, touching it almost affectionately.

"We should have used a condom," you mumble.

"Yeah," He agrees, "Doubt you regret it, though," and you have to admit, he's right about that.

You sit in a comfortable silence together for a while. His hand strokes your calf, his fingers running up and down the bare skin of your shin in a soothing motion. It feels good. Calm, after the ferocity of the sex you just experienced.

"I think... I've got to go to the bathroom," you say suddenly, sitting up and surprising yourself with your words.

"I'm not stopping you," Mark replies, and you shake your head.

"No- no, the underground one. The Jigsaw one," You shuffle on the couch, turning fully to him, "I think... I don't know why, but I think I'll be able to find answers there. About the third apprentice."

Mark hums in thought.

"John doesn't know that you know about that," he says, "He and Amanda will be gone pretty soon. And I sure as hell want to know about any secrets waiting for us."

"Then we'll go," You say decisively. You think of your vision of the two other mysterious figures later, and the rainfall of blood. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. And hungry.

"...We'll go tomorrow."

---

A/N- I'm thinking there are one, maybe two more parts left in this story. I had a tricky time writing this chapter, so please leave a comment if you enjoyed! <3

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff

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#mark hoffman #sawposting #slasher fic #costas mandylor #my writing #slasher x reader #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x oc #mark hoffman x reader #smut #psychicverse

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shadyauthor · 1 year

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Strings of their hearts, Prolouge

This is a prolouge to see if you guys like it so far, the chapters will be longer after this so do not fret!! The cast will be introduced after the full version of THIS chapter, after I post this though I will be drawing the "date" outfits, as in the only design change I'm making is giving them a cute outfit to wear on a date with you.

Silence, unbearable silence filled the forest around the dark clearing you were in. The forest around you lacked the sounds of anything; no birds; no bugs; no animals; no one. The only light to guide you around the small clearing was the moon above you, yet still it only lit up the clearing. Not the forest. That damn forest, you didn't know who was in there, what was in there, if there was anything in there at all. It called to you, begging you to come figure out if you were alone or not. The uncertainty was killing you, and the silence was driving you insane, then you heard it.

The breathing

The slow almost silent practiced steps

It stopped behind you

You didn't dare turn around

The growling

Turned to screaming

You crumbled to the ground unable to bear the unnatural sound, laying flat on the ground now, unmoving, you wondered if you were dead.

Then silence filled the air again, and more; and somehow; silence filled the silence.

Wake up.

You bursted from your dream, flying up to sit up in your bed. Cold sweat practically dripping from your face. It was that dream again.. you couldn't stand that dream, the uncanny silence always followed by you falling to the ground and wondering what was happening, or what happened really. You never fully understood why you started having that reoccurring dream, you never did anything in the waking world to even cause the dream. You didn't watch horror movies alot, and you haven't been to a forest since you were a pre-teen. Even then, your memories about that summer were blurry and you couldn't remember what happened.

Looking to your nightstand you read your clock "5:00 AM" You sighed, 'time to get up' . You and your friend group had an entire weekend planned out, you all had been planning this for a few weeks, you all would take 3 of your vacation days off of work and go do fun stuff. Fun stuff as in go out on the town for 2 days and regret it all on the third and go back to work on the 4th, today you all were gonna go shopping, you all had very decent jobs so it wasn't very hard to save up alot of spending money.

So not wanting to be late you got up and trudged to your bathroom, flicking the light on you slightly jolted at your appearance 'damn I look like shit man..' you sighed, your hair an absolute mess and your shirt had a wet spot of drool on the collar. Getting ready was the easiest part of most of your days, as you usually knew exactly what was going to happen in the day, so you knew how to dress. But as this days only objective was to "go shopping" it was to vague to know exactly how to dress, but going casual should be good enough. Getting in and out of the shower was a simple task other than the undying fear that you'll slip and break your neck.

You dried your hair with a towel, you wouldn't brush it till you went downstairs. Throwing on your grey button up and torn jeans you shut the lights off and headed downstairs to do your hair and eat breakfast "alexa play don't worry he happy" you stated nonchalantly, it was your favorite song to play in the mornings to calm the nerves.

Humming along to the song, you shuffled to the kitchen in your socks. 'Hmm cereal or eggs...cereal...or....nah cereals easier' you moved over to the cabinets, opening them and pulling out the generic unhealthy colorful marshmallow cereal. You only had a few dishes in your kitchen as you lived alone, unlike your friends who had spouses and kids already. You preferred to live alone, it was more peaceful this way, you had less to worry about. Though you didn't hate the idea of a family, you just didn't really have time to go on dates, you hadn't even had a vacation since you first got your new job. Shaking your head you brought your thoughts back to the task at hand : 'find a bowl and spoon and eat already dude!'

As soon as you got your bowl of cereal ready you moved to your large living room, with black leather couches and dark rugs that complemented the rest of your homes dark pallette. You turned your large mounted TV on and immediately changed it to cartoons, not really wanting to bother watching the News, you already knew the world was going to shit you didn't need another reminder while you where trying to eat your color bombed cereal.

You sighed in content when you settled on spongebob, the joyful sponge making you forget about it all. You finished eating and reached to your brush that was laying on the couch from the previous day of you being to tired to put it up, sighing you brush through all the tangles of your messy hair and half styling it, as in you just brushed your bangs out of your eyes and called it a day.

You pulled your phone from your jeans right pocket, seeing it was already "7:45 AM" you smiled, it was time to go pick up some of your friends!

#welcome home #welcome home au #wally darling x reader #julie joyful x reader #sally starlet x reader #fanfiction #horror

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onlyseokmins · 21 days

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$$60 billion (part 2) • 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: 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, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | 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 hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

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