#Prevent Dust & Dirt Build-Up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youreirrelevant · 11 months ago

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Sundog

pairing: Kendall Roy/Reader summary: Then, he's slotting his chin between your breasts, sighing so heavily you can feel the warmth and moisture of his breath ooze through the fabric of your shirt. His thumbs hook into the waistband of your pajama shorts, soft with age. “I’ve had a long fucking day.” words: 2865 tags: EXPLICIT, porn with some plot (Kendall is ceo, but-), a hint of angst, light dom/sub, mutual masturbation, thigh riding a/n: I started writing this back in February of 2023...

Long days. Clicking a pen, faster than the seconds could pass. Some days he’d lose track of time, the sun would have been fully set before he’d notice there was no more light streaming into his office. Today seemed to be never-ending. Words on the screen would pixelate, the ones on paper, smudging. The numbers meant nothing, and he felt quite the business school cliché, only really able to focus on the color of the candlesticks. Seconds, minutes, hours, too many seemed red, like the heat of the day crawling by. Kendall would hold a few slugged-through pages between his index and middle fingers up to reveal a new one, eyes moving over the words as many times as it took to actually read. Felt the rough paper against the sensitive skin of his fingers, to not think of harder things. Softer things.

---

Sometimes he’d look to his dad’s suite still expecting to see him sitting there. Five o’clock was out of the question, but he didn’t know if he had it in him to wait until whatever time his brain felt would have, hypothetically, satisfied his father. (There was no such time.) Another hour, but it was essentially time theft. And perfunctory, performative- he could leave whenever the hell he wanted. (Still under his watchful eye.)

For the short walk from the building to the back of his chauffeured car, Kendall felt ten pounds heavier. Slipping his sunglasses on as soon as he stepped outside to shield himself from the penetrative rays. Sweltering, heat distorted, the air is coming up from the asphalt, off the hoods of cars, in waves. He sighs. The air is thick with humidity and makes him think of things he always tries not to. He slides into the backseat, the leather mercifully cool from where the air conditioning had been allowed to run in preparation for him.

Summer seems to have crept into him, past his skin and into the meat and bones. His stomach. Thoughts of water trickling, pouring, trying to chill people who continued to warm themselves. You could generate steam off the friction and body temperatures alone.

He felt so hard it was almost juvenile.

—

Dogs and cats will sunbathe in the sunlight that comes in through those stain-glass windows in front doors. The AC will chill the air, but anything the light touches is warmed. Through fur, and through clothes.

It’s all fucking windows. Bedroom and great room and dining room. Inescapable, infrared. You long for paper-thin white sheets, a rattling box fan to tuck it around. Colder than laying in snow. Absolute zero. The setting of the sun was more attainable. Just three hours away.

By the time he’s in the elevator, he’s itchy and aching from irritation. Wants to shed himself of his blazer at the very least. Is tired of the abrasive, stiffened nature that he’s always surrounded with, standing sturdy against the loosening of every other molecule and bond. Somehow.

He knows where he can get pliancy, though.

When he steps foot into the penthouse it’s not exactly hot, but it's stagnant. Even here there are little specks of dust floating and visible in the beams of sunlight. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really know how to prevent dust, or what even causes it. Skin? Dirt brought in from outside?

You round the corner from the kitchen- hardly its own, enclosed room- find Kendall rolling his sleeves up. His shirt is so white its almost blue; the tan of his skin, brown of his moles, darker against it. The glass water bottle you carry is perspiring, the heat of your body penetrating, evaporating. You want to watch him, biting your lip at the flex of his fingers, tendons in his hands, muscles in his forearm. He’s watching himself do it, making the folds neat and even. The angle of his face highlights the bumps in the bridge of his nose, the thickness of his lashes, and you have to close the gap.

“You’re home kind of early,” its sweet, affectionate. The way you sound when you thank him. Gracious; soft. He straightens. Glances at you.

“Yeah, well-“evasive. Not thinking of you at all.

Two ways- when your hand wraps around his bicep he wants to bring you closer, push you away. He manages to stay still.

“Did you guys ever put cold drinks against your necks to cool down?”

Before he can even answer you’re doing just that for him, the frosty glass pressing against his carotid quickening his pulse and seeming to chill everything inside his chest. The sweat is wetting his skin, dampening his collar. It's so quintessentially summer; some fleeting relief.

“No. We had servants to fan us with those, uh, big fucking leaves.” So deadpan one could think he was serious. Your cheeks are pinched with a restrained smile, eyes glittering. Sometimes he wishes you’d just kiss him instead of hesitating -admiring- and creating this tension.

“Mhmm. Naturally.”

When he pulls away you don’t try to stop him. He tugs the fold of his collar away, then pulls it back against himself. Trying to be subtle, like he’s just straightening it, not depriving himself of the now warm, damp spot for a moment so he can enjoy it more when it's returned.

He flattens his lips. There’s an endless itch he needs scratched.

He sits on the couch, ridged and on the edge of the cushion, like he’s trying to level with you, implore to you. His body strains against his shirt- the buttons strain a little, tufts of chest hair are visible where the top ones are undone.

Kendall beckons you over casually- “Come here.” The ease of it always made you feel a little hotter, a little giddy. When you get close enough, he takes the bottle of water from you, sets it aside before leaning forward. Eyes on yours as he grabs your waist, pulls you to stand between his parted thighs, lean and toned against yours. He smiles up at you and it’s downright sweet- you want to tell him he’s pretty, full lips pulled back in a wide v. Your hands rest easily on his shoulders, cheeks pink with affection as you return his smile.

The kiss is only natural, slow and tender, but just as you go to readjust the way your lips slot against his, he’s yanking you even closer, thumbs digging into your hip bones so deep you gasp, his nose pressing into your cheek so tightly it bends. Then his chin is slotted between your breasts. He lets out a sigh so heavy you can feel the warmth and moisture of his breath ooze through the fabric of your shirt.

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your pajama shorts, soft with age.

“I’ve had a long fucking day.”

Kendall does it quick, undresses you from the waist down without much fanfare. Tipping his chin down to watch as he pulls the shorts- and your underwear- down your thighs, moving his head away from you just enough to make it easier when he slips it over your knees, his hands fisting themselves into the clothes to tug more forcefully. There would usually be some easing into this, more kissing and touching, (not that there were never rushes, but, well, this wasn’t rushed.) He runs his palms back up your legs, up the sides, your knees buckling a little as his thumbs swipe over them broadly. They move up and around your thighs, cupping your ass as he looks up at you again.

Your legs shift. You wonder what he’s going to do. What he’s got planned. Suddenly it’s not hot enough.

“Um-?”

“I want you to ride my thigh.”

You scoff incredulously. He’s deadpan again so, surely, he’s joking.

“Do people actually do that?”

“You will.”

Of course you will. He’s smiling up at you, digging his fingers into your hips. There’s a firmness to his expression. He nudges the side of your leg with his knee and it feels real. Whole torso seeming to bubble with nerves and excitement.

You look at him and huff out a single, weak little laugh, but there is no bluff to be called. His forehead wrinkles when he raises his brows. Impatient.

Moving to straddle him feels awkward. It's not exactly unfamiliar- lots of people get off like this, when they’re young and learning about their bodies, and maybe you had, too. And maybe there was fabric involved then, too, but certainly no leg beneath. No person around at all.

He feels your hands trembling as they slide down to his biceps- somehow you both feel more solid to each other than you ever have. He’s thankful you aren’t looking, because any commanding facade he had has slipped away with your gaze. Working too hard to school his breathing; you give in to him, and he’s enraptured.

When you finally press against him, it aches. Not unfamiliar. Your chest heaves. He’s slim, but sturdy. Your face tingles with warmth- embarrassment- and you try not to get ahead of yourself, thinking-

“Do you need help?”

As if you’d been just sitting there, like minutes had passed or something.

“N-no.”

You shift your hips, take in a staggered breath. Maybe you had been sitting here for minutes. Shame and desire are symbiotic, show in the way you tremble from restraint. His hands slip under your shirt, running up your back and nudging you forward.

“There’s a- I feel rushed.”

“Don’t feel rushed. There’s no rush. Just, fuckin, get yourself off on my leg. Now.”

It’s the kind of command that shows he knows he’ll always get what he wants, cushioned in excitement and eagerness. Infectious; if you see how much he wants it, wants you to do it, you’ll want it, too.

And you do.

The first pass is slow and tentative. The hood of your clit is tugged upward as you angle your pelvis back, and you exhale noisily. You can feel every thread of his slacks, finely woven and stiff, all the way down into your toes. There’s an instinctive urge to keep yourself quiet, to get yourself off as quickly as you can, so you don’t get caught. Fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hips wiggling to get a better angle. If drool spilled out of Kendall’s open mouth, pooling, dribbling over the plumpness of his bottom lip, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s trying to keep his cool. This was supposed to be mean to you. Degrading, a little show for him. A reward for -a distraction from- the tedium and sterility of the job he gave almost everything up for. But his face is so flushed it hurts, ears and sinuses aching, and he kind of wonders where that blood even comes from, because he’s throbbing against his leg. You look so demure. Pretty, sweat gathering in the crooks of your elbows, along the base of your neck already, from the strain of perching, rutting against his leg. Glittering in the light from the sun. His pants are tailored too slim. He swallows, shifts on the couch to try and give himself some space, and you gasp as his thigh presses firmly against your vulva.

“Don’t—“

Wobbly and strained. It’s clear, from the minute trembling of your thighs, the slackening of your jaw, that you liked it. His hands glide over your hips, down your thighs, long fingers sticking to your dewy skin.

“Sorry.”

Licking his teeth. A big grin on his face. He’s not fucking sorry; he does it again. The heel of your hand digs into his shoulder, but the moan you let out undermines any attempt at really putting your foot down.

“Fucking— stop,” giggly and spineless, but this time, he does obey, pleased that the jolt of his thigh has knocked loose your inhibitions. You widen your stance, reach a hand down to his hip to get more leverage. The leather of his belt is cool and smooth against your heated palm. He’s pushed you onto the right track.

Emboldened, determined, messy. Really going for it, now, hips rolling, bearing down on him to get that perfect scratch. He tugs your shirt up to see, to catch a peak of the streak of wetness left behind, darkening the fabric of his slacks. In the center of his chest, this tightening, cloying need to touch it. Rub it in, bring it to his mouth and taste it, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. Doesn’t want to break the spell and make you remember that he’s there, so that the embarrassment might wash over you anew. No, he wants you to cum like this, desperate and animalistic. Redirecting that energy, that need to grab and touch, he presses his palm against his cock, grunting at the pressure, loosely curling his fingers around himself and tugging to get some sort of relief.

Both of you moan. That’s—plenty. Way too fucking hot. Your minds run, sprint, parallel to each other’s with the same desires. Watching each other, wanting the other to make a mess of his nice, expensive clothes. Cascading. A feedback loop. Your fingers open and curl to get a better hold, to ride a little faster. The clinking, the buzzing of metal. He unbuckles his belt, opens his fly. The air between you is muggy, rapidly exchanged. The head of his cock flushed pink and swollen, skin pulled shiny-taut. You’re staring, as he wraps his hand around himself. Your eyebrows pinch. You want him so fucking bad. In your hand. On your tongue. Heavy and smooth.

Another pass. The pleat of his slacks catches on you, rigid and perfect and just what you need. He sees you try to chase it, squirming but unable to hit it the same way. So he flattens his palm on his upper thigh, just tight enough to keep it in place, without smoothing out the fold. Blood rushes, tingly and hot, all the way to the top of your head.

“Yes, Kendall,” gasped and dripping with gratitude, like it’s the texture of his fingertips that’s rubbing against you.

One of your thumbs tucks up under his hand, so you can rest yours on his leg, too. Grabbing, pulling yourself over him. The touch is so tender and intimate it makes his heart clench. He really isn’t there, now, as you get closer and closer. As you grind, rough and frantic against his leg. He jerks himself rhythmically, mechanically, trying to time it with each desperate jerk of your body. Both of your hands wrap around his thigh, your eyes closed, each movement and moan and whimper shorter and harsher and his mouth drops open at the sight of it. He grips his thigh, pinching your thumb between it and his hand, but neither of you mind. His other leg swings wider, knee almost bumping against the firm edge of the couch as he feels his balls pull tight against his body. He can smell you, your sweat, maybe even the tang of your arousal. See the strain this puts on your body, to balance and rut and try to get yourself off like this. Chest heaving, eyes glued to where your shirt drapes between your thighs, like it’s this mystical, magical, unattainable place— though he tries to keep himself quiet, hidden, he moans, as that first rope of cum falls, splats dully on the hardwood floor. You look up, to his face, find long lashes fanned across his cheeks, face pinched as he works himself through it, his leg bouncing, just a little.

“Mm, fuck,” you look, sound, surprised, almost agonized, watching as it pools milky white and thick between his knuckles. He watches you, the webbing between his thumb and index finger nestled at the base at the base of his cock, holding it upright as you tilt your hips and move them raggedly, harshly, to get that kind of orgasm that feels gooey and wet and endless. Your face goes slack. You drag yourself through it, barely making a sound, wanting it to last as long as possible.

You want it to go on forever because, once it’s over, embarrassment starts to creep in. It creeps into you both. The pace and the roughness of your movements. The specificities of the way you liked to get yourselves off. It’s raw, vulnerable in a way that neither of you expected. That you rarely ever were with each other. Your legs are shaking. Each crevice in your body is slick with sweat, and it makes you feel gross.

“That was— ha.”

You wet your lips. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t know how you can do that for so long,” it’s sheepish, but there’s also a hint of appreciation. Moving like that, for even that brief of a period of time, makes your whole body hurt. Core and upper arms and calves. Top to bottom. You go to stand, and he has to catch you, steady you with a still sticky hand on your waist. You grimace, but the mess is also kind of— hot.

“You just need to work on your stamina.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy/reader #reader insert #succession #succession hbo #my writing

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atzfilm · 2 years ago

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the leaders. (m)

pairing/wc; woosan/f.reader, 14.7k summary; you wake up in a rusty cell, an oddly familiar helping you out. once you step out into the world, it hits you – this is in fact the wildwest, and somehow, the singers you adore are cowboys? content; wild-west au, violence, guns, murder, smut. overuse of cowboy terms/slang, obsessive behavior note; again, may seem familiar since i have written this before on a different blog with different characters ♡

You gasp, eyes flicking around. Bars surround you, dust underneath your fingertips. You move forward, tugging on the iron that prevents you from leaving. A groan leaves your lips.

“How the hell did I get in here?” You grumble.

“Pretty ladies like ya aren’t supposed to be cursing,” You hear a voice say behind you. You roll your eyes at the words and turn, eyes widening. He wears a long brown trench coat, leaning against the bricks behind him as he looks up, before his gaze meets yours. You could remember those bright eyes which are now partly covered by the shadow from his hat.

Choi San. And here he is, odd sounding and covered in dirt and grim, probably from trying to get out like you were just doing. But there’s something different about him. He doesn’t resemble the man you remember from the shows. More country is the only way you can describe it.

“I think you would curse too if you wake up in a cell,” you murmur. “Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be at a show or something?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I ain’t no puppet, darling. And my boys will be here soon.” He stops talking, listening to the shouts outside. “Speaking of which…” He moves away from the wall, leaping forward to bring you into his arms. You shove against his chest, ready to cause a scene before the loud sound of a bomb exploding breaks your eardrums.

The walls blow down, San covering you with his body as debris flies. After a few more seconds, he kicks open the jail door with remarkable strength, running out. Before he jumps through the hole, he looks at you. You can see the gears running through his head as he thinks, before dusting off his black hat.

"We don't have all damn day, S!" A voice rings out, bringing you both back to reality. San rolls his eyes.

"Well, my chucklehead pal W over there could use some explaining to do, but he's not the ripest apple in the bunch," San points over to a man too far away for you to spot, his hand holding out for yours. "But I always have room to help a lady. Take my hand here, and I'll be off your back in a jiffy."

You stare at it for a moment before he takes in a big gulp of air, pulling you from the ground. You yelp, tumbling into his arms.

His smile widens as he sees how close you're pressed to his chest, a wicked grin plastered on his cheeks. "Ah, I don't seem to remember the last time a fine lady like yourself fell into my arms." He holds you back, tipping his hat once.

"S, I swear on my mom’s grave—!"

"Ah, I'm coming ya deadbeat!" He looks back at you sympathetically.

"Unfortunately, I don't have time to be more gentlemanly, my partners get a bit under the weather whenever I delay. I gotta hop on outta here before the sheriff comes and see what’s the hustle and bustle, but I do think I'll be seeing the likes of you soon enough." He nods his head once at you, before hopping onto his horse.

"See you in a hog killin' time, pretty lady!"

He coaxes the horse forward, yelling out a loud yip before galloping off. If you squint hard enough, you can see a few more horses running off into the sunset. Your mind runs miles per minute, glancing around. Old stables and buildings surround you, too real and old to be just an amusement park or a movie set. You walk slowly into town, glancing over at a poster that’s nailed into the side of a tree.

Wanted:

$10,000 REWARD!

Mischief group of bandits called “The Leaders”

Bribery, Murder, Thief

Please contact Sheriff Kim Hongjoong if spotted.

Portraits are displayed below, but one sticks out to you. One smile that you’ve seen just moments ago, busting you out of your prison cell that you have no idea how you got into. You blink slowly. Shit. Shit. You pinch your skin, wincing at the pain. So this isn’t just a dream. They are actually in the Wild West, and you’re… well, what are you?

"Hey there!"

Your head whips over to a man that's slowly walking over to you, his hands on his waist as he takes you in. Your eyes widen as you trail over his fingers. Spokes on the back of his boots, slacks dirty from wear and tear, pronounced belt head that still barely manages to keep his pants up. Best tucked into that, a silver sheriff's badge hanging on his shirt pocket. Your eyes flick up to his face, eyes popping out of your head as you realize who's standing in front of you. Hongjoong stands there, eyes narrowed as he takes you in.

"You don't look like you're from 'round here, young lady."

Young lady? There's barely a difference in your ages, not enough for him to speak like that to you. But you clear your throat, trying your best to sound at least a little like them.

"Howdy." Shit. For effort, you'd give yourself an A+, even though the grinding teeth and wink probably drops that down to a failure. His hand slowly wavers over his gun, and you could imagine this now. Being killed by Kim Hongjoong? Not sure if that's your life goal, but it's not a bad reputation to have. "What if I told you that I'm from the future?"

"I'd think you're trying to play games with me, miss," he says simply, slowly taking his hand away from his waist. "Where you from?"

Taking your chances and saying you don't remember is the best bet. If you even explained that he was from a popular band and you have no clue why you're suddenly transported into a wild west, starring them as if this is a horrible, yet fascinating dream. Amnesia path it is.

"I don't remember. I just woke up in a cell, and then this guy kicked me out of jail with dynamite? And he said something about having to leave and—"

"Wait one second!" Hongjoong holds up his hand. "You were involved in that escape that yahoo just did? Do you know each other?"

Yahoo. This man, with his full chest, really said yahoo. Trying to stifle back a laugh, you shake his head.

"I've never seen him in my life, and if I did I don't remember it. But," you gesture to the wanted poster next to you. "I'm assuming he's a notorious criminal."

Hongjoong paused, eyes flicking between you, your outfit, and the poster. He moves his hand away from his belt, crossing his arms as he sighs. "We've been trying to catch him and his group of bandits for months and we've just caught up with him. But yet again, he slips through our fingers." He runs his fingers through his hair, eyes moving to yours. "You couldn't be part of them anyway, too soft and they wouldn't be leaving any strays behind."

Wow. You don't know whether to be offended or pleased that he believes you. At least that gun of his isn't being pointed at you.

His gaze is focused on the destroyed wall behind you. "Why did he help you out, do you know? Because I don't even remember you being kept in there, but it's strange that he'd take the time to rescue a lady. Those men don't have any morals, at least any that I can see. Do you mind coming with me, miss...?"

He waits for your name expectantly.

"y/n. It's y/n. And I wouldn't be able to tell you why he helped me either, usually I'd say it's from the kindness of his heart but since he's a criminal..." you trail off.

He clicks his tongue, nodding once. "Ah, yes. Don't remember hearing your name round these parts neither. But your talk is a little fancier than mine, maybe you're from some town far away. I can bring you to the town doctor, but I'd rather we go on foot. Just in case you got something wrong with your organs or whatnot."

Hongjoong gestures in front of him, and you walk alongside him. "Do you know anything about our little town? Ah, wait," he rubs the back of his neck, a soft blush creeping on his cheeks. "You wouldn't know even if you did, since that memory loss of yours. We here are in a little town of mine called Mist."

...Mist.

"Not many folks pass by and stay, so most of these people you see walking down these streets are their mama and pop's third or fourth generation of family. We are a crop growing town, not a mining one. We aren't the richest or the poorest, just right in the middle. My pap and his pap before him were corn crackers, but I ended up being the sheriff, much to their dismay." He smiles down at you, his teeth shining in the burning sun. You'd never thought you'd be standing this close to him, but you'd rather not dwell on it.

It looks like Mist is ripped straight out of the history books. Streets lined with a saloon, a library, small homes and other knick knack shops. Rust covers most surfaces, horses neighing as you walk by. Your hand itches to pet the glossy fur, feel their hair between your fingers. But you know you'll just scare them off, and being kicked by that brunt force isn't on your agenda.

Hongjoong talks on and on about the history of his home, explaining that San used to be a citizen of it as well. "Strayed. Found that being here wasn't his cup of tea, wanted to make a name for himself. We were good pals back in the day, some would say brothers. But I wanted to walk the straight and narrow, and that was too good for him. Wonder what could've happened if I arrested him that day he robbed the general, what would've become of him." Hongjoong sighs.

"I still wanted to fix our friendship, you see. Even now, I still see the good in him, between his robbing and stealing. I see the Choi San who wanted to be a farmer when he was younger, before he banded the Leaders."

"Do you know the other people who are a part of it?" You ask, and Hongjoong shrugs.

"All we know is that there's many of them. W, a few others, and San. Our people haven't been able to identify anyone but San and a few others, since they are the face of the group. Know him enough that he'll keep the people he cares about hidden. Kept away from the public eye. Which makes me think why you aren't someone special to him," he smiles at you. "Not sure if you'd want to be, miss. Being with him only leads down a treacherous path. Full of murder and blood on your hands."

"I'll keep that in mind," you nod softly. Is this what San would be like in an alternate world? In this alternate reality? Dangerous, full of anger and greed? You just can't imagine the kind man being that cruel. There has to be more behind it, more than Hongjoong even knows.

He clears his throat, standing in front of a door. He knocks once, glancing down at you. "Doc should be in."

The door flings open, showing the town doctor. You should be used to it, seeing the members hanging around. But seeing Choi Jongho in all of his glory, standing in front of you only makes you smile, your mouth struggles to hold back your squeal of delight. He smiles at Hongjoong, before looking at you.

"Ah, what do we have here? Another one of your one nights, Hongjoong? Have you slipped up again?"

Hongjoong hits his arm, his ears burning red. "You know I'm a gentleman, doc. Don't make miss y/n assume things about me!"

Jongho grins, leaning against the door. "Ah, but you’re known as the town heart breaker. So many of our ladies throw themselves at you and you don't budge. Some even thought you swing the other way," he winks. "Not that I would mind. Patient room's always open for you. And for you, miss y/n. What seems to be the problem?"

Whiplash. The only way you can describe it as pure whiplash. This man is a mystery in itself.

"I'm at a loss," Hongjoong mumbles, scratching his head. "She ended up in a cell, next to San and he let her go? Can't recall anything before that."

"Ah, amnesia." Jongho opens his door wider. "Mind taking a seat? Just want to make sure your head is screwed on okay and you don't have any injuries," his eyes flick to your arms. "Although I already see some bruising on those pretty arms a' yours."

You walk into his office, Hongjoong following as they shut the door behind the three of you. So much for doctor-patient confidentiality? Did they not practice it here?

“Usually the sheriff wouldn’t be with a female patient,” Jongho explains, walking over to his tool table. The list of items there are very limited; bandages, an assortment of drugs, syringes, and a few knives here and there. He grabbed what you can only assume is a stethoscope, turning to you. “But this is an extenuating circumstance, is it not?”

He glances over at Hongjoong for a moment, before asking you to breathe in and out as he listens to your heartbeat, looking for any oddities. Hongjoong looks away, his ears burning red. The only thing this sheriff could do is blush, but you don’t mind it. It’s endearing, how he hunts down criminals but turns red when he’s watching you being examined.

“Are you nervous, doll?” Jongho asks, raising a brow at you. “Your heartbeat is rapid, like you just chased a herd of rabbits!”

Hell yes, you’re nervous. Jongho is literally inches away from your face, measuring your heart rate. Who wouldn’t be jumping out of their socks? Oh no. Your thoughts, they’ve turned cowboy and it’s only been a little over an hour.

“A bit,” you confess. “Not really sure where I am or how I got here. Just want to go home, wherever that is.” A small white lie. If you’re really dreaming, hanging out with the men in the wild west isn’t such a bad experience.

“Ah,” he mumbles, resting the scope on his neck. “Does your head hurt? Any throbbing feeling in your limbs?” You shake your head. “Hm, well this is a bit odd, if I think about it.”

“What’s odd?” Hongjoong asks, finally turning back.

“Don’t see any signs of injuries besides her physical cuts and bruises,” He grabs the homemade bandages off the counter. “But this could be something we can’t quite see from our eyes, Joong. Might be some brain disturbance. Can tell she aint lying about the amnesia,” he crouches in front of you, wiping your arm with the antibiotic, lightly wrapping the gauze around your arm. “Has those honest eyes. Bright,” Jongho smiles at you. “Reminds me a bit of Hwa-”

“Ya know not to mention him,” Hongjoong utters, Jongho sighing softly.

“Times are different, you know. Maybe he’ll come back to Mist, see the brighter sides of things…”

“He won’t. San manipulated him. His parents are still in a rut over it.” Hongjoong rubs his neck.

Seonghwa. So he’s part of San’s rebel squad as well. You’d like to ask more about it, but prying into their lives would only make you look suspicious, and you’d rather stay under the radar. Even though Jongho believes you, not everyone will. You’d end up in one of their hospitals rather than home. Somewhere you’d at least want to see one last time.

“But we should bring y/n to the motel. Yeosang owes me a favor, anyway. At least until she recalls her home.” Hongjoong glances at you. “A ways away, it would be better to take Angel.”

“Angel?” You ask, and Hongjoong’s eyes light up.

“My lady. You’d like her, she’s the sweetest gal in this town.”

Jongho rolls his eyes. “Stubborn. Can’t get her to listen to a word, gets all ruffled up. But she might like you, she prefers women.” Jongho clears his throat, stretching his back. “Time for a nap, don’t you say? Keep mind of your head condition, and I’ll give you some bandages. Nothing really happens ‘round here, so we have a large supply.” He passes you a roll. “Fixing to see you ‘round here more often, yea? Maybe Joong will have a more special lady.”

Hongjoong scoffs, his hair growing as red as a tomato. You’d definitely not get used to it. “Ah, shut your mouth, Jongho. Let’s go, ‘fore he makes up some more nonsense.” Hongjoong opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead.

You hop off the stool, “Thank you, Jongho. Hopefully, I see you without bandaids.”

His eyes sparkle. “Please do. It gets lonely ‘round here without some company. Leave Joong behind, I’ll show ya a good time.” He winks, watching as you go.

Hongjoong stands in front of a horse, patting her coat softly, feeding her a carrot. “Hey there, Angel. How’s it goin’, beautiful lady?” He whispers, his smile the widest you’ve seen it. “This here’s y/n, a visitor that’ll ride me with you, so don’t be too mean. Can’t have her runnin’ to the Leaders.”

Hongjoong looks at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. You roll your eyes. Tentatively, you run your fingers along her coat. She whines, moving closer to your touch. Hongjoong nods appreciatively. “She likes you, so that means you're a good one.”

“You’re beautiful, Angel,” You said, and she neighs, pressing her face into your cheek. “How did a lady like you end up with a scruffy sheriff like him?”

A groan falls from Hongjoong lips. “Hey, I grew up with her, mind you! Took care of each other, feeding each other. This’ my best friend, right here.” Hongjoong presses his lips to her coat, before tugging on her saddle, leaping up onto her back with ease. He holds out his hand for you, and you stare at the height.

No fucking way.

“Never hopped on a horse before?” he teases, but you nod. Shock crosses his face. “Wait, you ain’t kidding?”

“I’ve never been this close to a horse.”

He blinks quickly. “Ah, you must be from the city, then. Everyone for miles has been on a horse since a babe. Give me your hand, miss. Won’t be too hard to help you hop on her. You’ll be sitting in front of me, so make sure you don’t fall off the saddle.”

“… Can’t we just walk?”

Hongjoong’s eyes almost boggle out of his head. “What? Did I hear that correctly? It’s a long walk, miss. Too far. And you just been in a traumatic accident, can’t have you falling to the dirt from lack of breathing. Easy once you get the hang of it. Trust me, you'll be clean and clear.”

You grab his hand as he instructs you to put your foot into the stirrup, pulling you up with his full strength. You’re surprised at how strong he is, the lack of effort shown on his face as you sit in the saddle with him. You're partly sitting on his lap, and you’re thankful this time that you don’t have the chance to see his face.

“Keep your self pressed against me, alright? And hold on to that horn- yes, that. We’ll be going slower for you but once you get used to Angel, we’ll gallup the rest a’ ways.”

Hongjoong flicks the straps, and Angel walks forward. You yelp, your hands clawing into his thighs. His breathy laughs tickle your ears. “Ah, you’re definitely gotta be from one of those fancy places. It’s cute.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mr. Sheriff,” You grumble, only causing him to laugh louder.

“And the fancy words too. You'll be fine, I’m here for you, and we won’t be burning the breeze so you needn’t worry ‘bout that.”

You hold on tightly the rest of the way there, Angel slowly going into a steady gallop. Hongjoong chats your ear off about everything and anything, and you’re grateful for his presence. The stardom away, he’s just like anyone else. At least, in the cowboy sense. He’s funny and charming, and you’re a bit curious as to why he hasn’t snagged himself a partner in life yet. From what Jongho says, he’s popular. Popular enough to reject everyone that’s ever appeared.

“Are your standards high?” You ask after a joke of his.

You can’t see his face, but you can only imagine his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pardon, miss?”

“Doctor Jongho was talking about how you reject everyone that’s interested in you, and I was just wondering why, as all. I mean, you seem like a good guy from what I can see, I just don’t understand why you haven’t picked someone special for you. Even Jongho was interested.”

Hongjoong quiet as Angel walks on the grassy path. You quickly think you’ve overstepped, opening your mouth to apologize.

“I didn’t mean to- pry.

“No need to say any sorries, miss.” You hear Hongjoong rub the slight scruff on his face, thinking. “All of their advances felt disingenuous,” he confesses. “They wanted to be involved with me because of my position, not my personality. As you can see, I don’t lack in that department.”

You laugh, not seeing the smile that graces his lips.

“Haven’t gotten along with any people except for long time pals a’ mine. Kinda hard to meet new folks when you're in a town like ours, you see. Same folks and same faces day to day. Gets a bit dry.”

“So I assume that you’re happy that I’m here,” You joke.

You don’t see the panic crossing his face, the gulp as he looks away from your head for a moment. “I am, miss y/n. You bring bit a’ spring to my step… Ah, we’re here!” He reigns in Angel, resting her at the stall slightly away from the building. It’s only two floors high, but it’s long, probably home to a dozen or so rooms. Hongjoong hops off of Angel, holding out his arms as he helps you down.

You trip a bit falling off, landing in his arms. He steadies you easily, the usual pink on his face. “Should be more careful, miss. Some men aren’t as kind as myself.”

“Oh, you kind?” You hear a laugh, and turn to the new voice. Blond hair tucked into a hat, he leans against a pole that holds up the building, looking between the both of you. “Not used to seeing the Sheriff entertaining traveling folks. Assuming that you’re y/n?” His eyes flick to you, and you nod. “Ah, the woman spotted with one of those Leader men. Surprised you didn’t arrest her immediately, Sherriff. Loose ends don’t end up tied ‘round here as of late.”

“Ah, Yeosang, be nice for once, will you? She’s not involved with ‘em. Can’t even think back to before today. One of those fancy folk, you know? Probably came from the city.”

Yeosang’s eyes trail over your figure, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your clothing. You’re wearing a t-shirt and jeans, completely different from the corsets that you’ve seen the women wear around there. You wished that Hongjoong offered something so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but to no avail. And you’re a guest to this town, so asking for something when you’re already unwelcomed would be pushing the little luck that you have.

“Didn’t think to give her a new pair of those? She’s practically in the nude in that wear.” He leans up from his spot, walking over to the both of you. His walk is lazy, stare matching. He holds up a bit of hay to Angel, her eating it out of his hands as he eyes Hongjoong. “No wonder you wanted to ride Angel over here. Haven’t felt another in a bit, hm?”

“You and Doctor Jongho seem to like to tease,” You say, earning a raised brow from him.

“Joong here grew up with us. Feed the same bread and wore the same trousers. Families closer than two peas in a pod. Joking is in our blood. Would ya like a new pair of clothes? Get you in something that won’t make the men ‘round here ogle you , their minds aren’t that pure as you can see.” He gestures to Hongjoong standing just feet away from you. “Didn’t even bother offering, his dirty mind.”

“Hey-!”

“I would like that, thank you. But, could I wear some trousers instead? Those skirts are too tight fitting and I can’t move in them.”

Yeosang’s grin slowly spreads across his face as he looks at you. “Thinking that I’ll like you more than the other misses he brings ‘round. Anything you need, miss y/n. Speaking of needs, Hongjoong. Why’d you bring her in these parts? It’s not the calmest area in our town. Could get hurt.”

Hongjoong glances around, seeing obvious sketchy people walking around. Some spot him and turn in the opposite direction. “Need a favor. She needs some place to stay-”

“So you thought it would’ve been an excellent idea to waltz over here and give her to me. Have enough of those skum walking through my doors, don’t need more eyes to cover an innocent virgin.”

You scoff at him, and he looks at you sympathetically. “In their eyes, you are.”

“Please, having her at my home won’t be proper, you know how the townspeople talk. City slicker in my home will only lead to chit-chatting.”

Yeosang places his hat back on top of his head, thinking. “How long?”

“I can’t quite tell ya that. Don’t know when her memory is going to come waltzing back in and saying howdy. Give her a few weeks, give or take.”

Yeosang grumbles, but nods. “Favors gone now, sheriff,” his eyes move over to you. “Let’s get you set up in some proper cow-poke slacks. Wouldn’t mind seeing you in some fancy clothing, though,” His grin widens as he looks at you.

That was flirting. That was definitely flirting. Your face warms as he tips his hat to Hongjoong, gesturing for you to walk ahead. You turn back to Hongjoong, and he nods once, lifting his hat up slightly.

“I’ll be in contact with you, keep your ears clean and your eyes open. Those bandits could be anywhere, and Yeosang’s place is prime time for their kind. Won’t be surprised if they slip ‘round here, causing a ruckus.”

“Not in my place,” Yeosang grumbles.

“Thanks, Sheriff Hongjoong. For bringing me here, and trying to keep me safe.”

Hongjoong flushes, “Ah, no need to thank me, miss. It’s only my job, even if you’re a city slicker.” He teases. He gets back on Angel, whistling at you once before disappearing down the dirt path.

Yeosang clears his throat next to you. “I’ll show you to the back. Can't quite find your size, but pick off these racks here and sure enough find something."

Yeosang holds the door open for you, gesturing to the racks in front of you. "Don't quite trust you by the way, miss y/n. Popping up 'round here out of the blue and yip yapping about some amnesia. Jongho a doc, but he ain't the brightest tool in the shed."

He eyes you. “You don’t even talk like a city-slicker or country folk. Can’t quite pin you down yet. Just don’t bring no trouble ‘round here, and we’d be peachy. Got that?”

“I do,” You say, Yeosang completely reading you. He’s even analytical in the wild west, but you shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re surprised Hongjoong or Jongho didn’t peep a word about your accent. Maybe they think you’re from some far off town, a place where no one speaks in their slang. “I won’t cause a ruckus, either. Thank you for your hospitality.” You try speaking like him, a grin on your face.

He only rolls his eyes in response. “Nice try. I’m leaving your key hanging on your door, just outside. Grab it whenever you’re ready and your room will be prepared. Some gal will be bringing you more clothing for your stay.”

He gives you a wave as you thank him, closing the door behind him. You stare at the racks in front of you, grabbing whatever looks close enough to your size to wear. You tuck your feet into the boots and stare at the hats. It tempts you, your mouth watering, thinking about living out your cowboy dreams. But you sigh, giving them one last, longing gaze before leaving.

You’re already an eyesore, everyone looking at you wherever you go. Wearing a hat would only cause more people to ask questions, many you can’t answer. Where did you come from? Why do you speak like that? Wait, you don’t know what “insert term” is? You shower everyday? Endless questions that’ll only leave you in a stuttering mess, palms sweaty. You should probably grab a dress and corset and shove yourself in one, but who do they think you are? Walking around uncomfortable from day to day?

You grab the key that’s hanging outside your door, walking slowly down the hallway. Thankfully your room isn’t too far. You insert the key and unlock it, glancing inside. How the lady or man came into your room quick enough and dropped off clothing is beyond you, but you thank them silently, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The room couldn’t be more than ten by ten, a small window with the thinnest panel you’ve ever seen. You run your fingers along the quilt, humming softly.

What do you do now?

You remember seeing a bar just off the hotel, and nod. Sure, this couldn’t be scary. Just a normal bar in the Wild West. Probably some gunfights and glasses thrown everywhere, but that’s normal enough, you suppose. Maybe you’ll come out with an honorary bloody nose. You walk out of your room, locking the door behind you.

You turn, bumping into a body just outside your door. The impact is rather hard, making you stumble on the rug that’s on the floor. Before you can fall back, a hand grabs you, holding you steady. Your eyes look up, ready to thank the mysterious stranger. Dark eyes stare down at you, thick brows just above them, His hair is long, brushing against the nape of his neck. You never thought during this time there were piercings, but you can see them tracing up his ear, small gold studs. He pulls you up, eyes never leaving yours. You can recognize that man from anywhere, his face so distinct.

“Are you alright, sweet pea?” Wooyoung asks, his deep voice resonating in the quiet hallway. You nod, as he lets you go. He wears black from head to toe, boots shining with a line of silver around the heels. His hat rests on a string, hanging on his neck. He tilts his head, wavy hairs falling to his forehead. “Don’t remember seeing a gal as beautiful as you ‘round.”

You don’t know how to respond, and you can tell by his face that he knows the effect he has on you. He chuckles slowly, ring covered fingers running through his hair. “Fine night, isn’t it? Too dangerous out there for a sweet pea like you to be alone. Where you going?”

You purse your lips. “It’s dangerous out there, like you said. I can’t tell strangers where I’m going.”

He laughs. “Ah, you’re a slick one. I like that.” His eyebrows flick up slightly.

Fuck. The charisma from this man is dripping from his every word, every flick of his eyes. But you keep yourself grounded enough to roll your eyes, giving him your back. You’re not here to flirt.

…

Well, you aren’t sure why you’re here.

“Never had a lady give me her backside,” Wooyoung walks next to you, arms resting on his back. “Haven’t told you my government yet, and you’re already running. Let me at least say a bit more before you make me into a bad egg. Didn’t see a ring, so assumed you were an Angelica.”

“Angelica?”

His eyebrows furrow for a moment. “Ah, must be small-town lingo. Not tied down, I presume. No lover.”

“Why does that even matter?” You know. You can feel the heavy flirting between his words, the smirk on his lips. And you’re tempted, but something is different about him. There’s an aura around Wooyoung, more than the flirting. Mysterious, intimidating. Something you can’t quite point out. You reach to open the door, but he opens it for you, gesturing for you to exit. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you. You make any cowboy balmy.”

He walks along with you to the bar, no longer trying to start a conversation with you. You embrace the silence, but his mere presence is intimidating in itself, his looming finger just behind you. As you make it to the outside of it, he opens the door for you once more, his smile hidden on his face.

“Came here to bend an elbow as well. A bit glad I didn’t go to the bed-house, found better sights here. See you ‘round, miss…” He waits for you to say your name, but you don’t give him the pleasure. “Hard to get, I see. Admire that.”

You walk in, him just slightly behind you. The bell rings, eyes of the patrons looking over to see who entered. Their loud talks slowly dissipate, an audible hush falling amongst the crowd. You notice that they’re looking behind you, so you step to the side, letting Wooyoung walk in front. He looks back at you, an evil glint in his eyes.

“Name’s Wooyoung. But you’d’ve learned soon enough,” he takes your hand, lightly pressing his lips against the back, intense gaze on yours as he flicks his eyes to your lips, letting go. He seems to ignore the stares as he walks to the corner of the bar, a familiar silhouette there as well. But you can only see their back from where you’re standing.

You walk to the bar, sitting on an empty stool. Some of the men next to you eye you but don’t utter a word, probably assuming that you’re with Wooyoung. You don’t mind it at all, trying to figure out how to get back to your time is what you’d rather do. Although, hanging out with them isn’t half bad.

“Joong’s gal?”

Your eyes look up into softer ones, his contagious smile and plush cheeks easily recognizable. He holds a glass in his hand, cleaning it slowly. He leans against the counter. “Could tell by your trousers. No lady ‘round here would dare.”

You snort. “And what does that mean? I’m not a lady?”

Yunho looks at you in shock, his lips in the shape of an o. “Absolutely positively not, sweetheart. You’re different, bettermost from the others, makes you more fascinating, you see. Make any get one hellofa brick in his hat. Makes you a target as well, but you’re safe enough.”

“How so?”

He grins. “You’re with me. Talk more after I get these men outta da way.” He tips his head, walking over and sliding people their beer.

The saloon is bigger than you expected, probably about fifty or so people hanging out and about. There’s few women around but Yunho’s right; all of them are dressed to impress, makeup perfect on their faces. You spot Wooyoung, and finally, get the chance to see who he’s with.

San slides laid back in his chair, legs manspread as his eyes lazily trail along the crowd. You can't move, knowing that if you even tried his eyes would immediately land on you. So you try your best to keep attention away from yourself, sitting on the edge of the barstool as Yunho makes a drink for you.

The hairs on the back of your neck raise, knowing the heavy gaze that now rests on you. You thank him for the drink, using it as an excuse to down it quickly, eyes flicking over to where San is. His gaze is focused on you, a sly smirk slowly forming on his lips. He drags his tongue along them, eyebrow raised slightly, as if he's challenging you.

"Involved with a fella like him?" Yunho interrupts, forcing your eyes away. "Could only lead to bad endings, sweetheart. Only keep you on your toes long enough to say hello. Throw you right into the dust."

"Do you know him?" You ask, and Yunho laughs.

"Know him? We part of the Leaders together." He watches as the shock slowly crosses your face, his smirk rising. "Too bad he don't like to share."

"Share what?"

Yunho only winks.

The Leaders. San, Wooyoung, and Yunho. All of them are part of the bandit group. You’re a bit shocked that Yunho is, why would he be a bartender? But now you’ve figured out why Wooyoung feels so off. He’s a criminal, his dark gaze filled with more than just lust. He’s seen things you can’t imagine, things you’d rather not think about. San probably has blood on his hands as well as Yunho, his eyes taking you in as you think deeply.

“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, darling.” His voice is next to you now, one you’ve just heard earlier today. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. W was just chatting about you, telling me about this daisy damsel, a city-slicker. Got me curious, I reckon, but when I saw you eyeing me, dead giveaway.”

“Was it a coincidence,” you mumble, not daring to meet his gaze. He doesn’t smell like alcohol at all, not even slightly. You’re a bit surprised, but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t expect to see you again either.”

“Ah, it’s not a bad thing,” San nudges the man next to you. The man grunts, ready to start something. But once his eyes scan San, a frightened look crosses his eyes as he stumbles from his stool, moving far away from the two of you. Hongjoong talked about how notorious and dangerous they are, but it didn’t sink until you entered the bar. They’ve made a name for themselves here, and not in a good way.

He rests on the stool, half sitting. “Never told me why you were in the calaboose. Don’t really look like the doozies that creep in there. Much calmer, strange.” He sees the look on your face, and chuckles. “In a positive way, darling.”

His eyes grace over your figure, a teasing glint in his eyes. He slowly brings the glass to his lips, eyes unblinking as he watches you through the blurry glass. His lips wrap around the lining of the glass cup, before placing it down to the counter. "You’re quite a mysterious one, miss y/n."

Your blood runs cold. You haven't uttered your name around him, or Wooyoung. How did he even know it? He sees the puzzlement in your eyes, gaze moving away from you to Yunho, a few feet away serving someone else.

"Town's small and townspeople chat. Hard not to figure out who you were. Cant get the details on your background, no matter how much pig digging. Not even your sheriff knows, and seems like you don't know either. Don't believe that in the slightest." He waves over another bartender, their quick pouring of the drink showing you in the simplest ways San's power in this town.

The shaking hands of the man as he pours, the laser sharp gaze of San as he watches, as if he'll jump over the counter if the man makes the slightest mistake. Wooyoung and he command attention and obedience with their presence. Completely different from the soft energy around Yunho, flirting smiles as he continues to intoxicate the saloon customers.

"We own this here saloon, love. The Leaders. Imagine my shock in seeing you stumble through those doors, W just behind ya. I saw the looks he was givin' you, that poor bastard..."

"Ah, talking about me while I'm not here to defend, sir? No wonder my ear was itching."

You're so absorbed in San's every word, ignoring the slow walk of Wooyoung behind you. He doesn't even bother asking the man in the opposite seat to move, the person leaving on their own accord. Unlike San, he molds his body into the stool, letting out a soft sigh before moving his eyes to you. A small grin teases on his lips, an eyebrow slightly raised.

"Care to share?"

"Not interested. In either of you." You clench your ice tea, alcohol free. You don't see the looks they exchange over your head, wordless communication.

"Heard you talking to the sheriff," Wooyoung says.

"Wondering if you told any tidbits about our encounter. Isn't wise if you did," San adds. "Could be life risking, if you ask me."

You can feel the intense stares they give you without even glancing their way. Your eyes move to Yunho, who watches you from the other side of the bar. It's too loud for him to hear what you're saying to them, but you can tell that he knows. The blank expression he gives you is enough to know. Are they going to kill you? There isn't even any information to give Hongjoong, even if you wanted to.

"What could I say to him? He knows who you are, what you look like. And you barely exchanged three sentences with me before riding off into the sunset," you sip slowly on your drink. "Is that why you came over here? To bother me?"

San chuckles dryly. "You’re a smart one, hm? Think we can put you in your place?" He moves closer to your ear, a breath away from his lips touching your skin. "Can tell you’re flustered, your fingers are all shaky. Scared?"

Wooyoung leans on the counter, head resting on his hand. You notice his arm covered with tattoos and bracelets. His gaze is heavy, eyelids hushed as he licks his lips, flicking between yours and your eyes. "Pretty gal like you may be thinking 'bout something different though. Could tell right when we met, the look in those beautiful eyes of yours. Full a' wonder, and... ah." He reaches out, inches away from your hand, before pulling back.

"The things I want to do."

From the thumping in your ears to the breath of San tickling them, to the seductive look Wooyoung is giving you, it's overwhelming. You leap from your stool, ignoring the chuckles falling from their lips.

"Leaving so soon? Haven't even heard our proposal to you," San pouts. "It's worth a wild."

You hesitate in your steps, glancing back at the two of them. "And what is the proposition?"

Wooyoung leans back on the counter, legs outstretched in front of him. "Distract that sheriff. Tell him falsehoods, get his nose away from us. In exchange..." His heavy gaze moves up your body, before flicking to your eyes. "Join us."

...

....

"...join you? Why in the living hell would I ever join you?"

A dark look passes through both of them. San jaw clenches, fingers straining against the glass in his hands before he takes a breath, closing his eyes and opening again. He looks at you calmly once more.

"We need a lady in our ranks. Some things a man just can't do. You’re already a criminal, can't judge us."

You blink rapidly. "How am I...?"

Your mind trails off to your first meeting with him, in prison. He's assuming that you're as bad as them, that you'd break the law. But the worst thing you've ever done is kick a ball into someone's face, and you cried after doing that. Breaking the law? You could barely break a pencil, let alone the law.

"No." You say briskly. "I've changed, I think. Started anew. My past is behind me."

Wooyoung snorts at that. "Oh, is it now? Every soul in here sees you talking to us. Probably got to the sheriff already. He must be suspecting by now that you’re in cahoots with the Leaders."

They're trying to bait you. You've watched enough movies to know the moves. The evil glint behind the friendliness. The way Wooyoung's fingers rest on his hip, inches away from his pistol. It's subtle, but you know if you deny, they'd probably retaliate somehow. But Hell, you’ve dealt with men like this before.

"You're underestimating him. See y'all around." You tip your invisible hat, earning a chuckle from Yunho who watches. You turn your back to them, push the double doors open and leave.

Wooyoung goes to stand, but San grabs his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. He looks at him in confusion. "We won't stop her?"

"No. Sooner or later, she'll come crawling to us."

"Not too sure 'bout that," Yunho says, walking to them. "Gal seems independent. Can't see her listenin to you."

San quirks his brow. "She'll learn who I am soon 'nough."

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths just outside the bar. Your eyes flick to the sound of heavy panting, seeing a black stallion in the darkness. Its eyes glow faintly, focusing on you for a moment before huffing again. You try to calm your heart rate as you take in its calming presence, a soft neigh echoing in the night.

Your head is filled with several emotions; fear, confusion, lust. You can barely keep up with the heavy waves. The beating slowly drops into a more steady thumping, your eyes flutter as you take another breath, walking through the grass to meet it. It stomps its feet, warning you with gestures. You hold your hands up in surrender, showing it that it shouldn’t be afraid. It slowly stops moving, letting you stand next to it silently.

You don’t dare run your fingers on its coat, too afraid that it startles easily. You stare off into the night, eyes on the sky. The stars are the brightest you’ve ever seen; they glow their own lights in the small town. You glance around, seeing the flickers of torches and stakes, loud voices of people entertaining themselves. The horse neighs softly as you pout, running your fingers through your hair.

“I don’t belong here,” You say softly, glancing at the horse. “I have no idea what to do, how to get back to my home. But I have to admit, it’s nice being around here. The fresh air is completely different. Feels more natural out here.” You hear a crash behind you, but don’t even give the sound the light of day, continuing to hum softly.

“It’s a bit chilly out here too, and all I have is this shirt,” You pull at the material, frowning. “It’s barely thick enough to cover my boobs from showing through.”

“Boobs?”

You jump at the sound, turning to see a man, hair wild as the wind blows through it. He wears a dark blue outfit, cowboy boots shining in the darkness, probably from the flickering of the candle in his hand. He cocks his head, eyes watching you curiously.

“Is that the fancy way of saying bosoms?” You can hear the innocence in his voice, although the scars across his face tell a different story. “Strange city slickers.” He grins, walking to you. You’re not sure how he is compared to the rest of the bandits you’ve encountered, but you don’t take any chances.

“What do you want?”

Confusion is drawn in his expression, before he mumbles something to himself softly. “Ah… you’re with my horse. Seems a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” He points to the horse next to you, patting it softly. “Surprised he didn’t try to kick you. A feisty one, he is. Probably thinking about doing something to you.” He grins again, winking at you.

You move away from the horse and Seonghwa takes a step to it, pressing his lips against it. It nudges against him softly, and he giggles. You blink rapidly. Him. He is in a bandit group, an infamous group. You don’t even feel the dangerous aura around him, not like the other three. He’s much softer, calmer. He looks at you, still petting his horse lightly.

“Heard ‘bout you from the others. Potentially joining’ our ranks,” he looks you up and down in thought. “Don’t know why they’v’d even consider, don’t look impressive to me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, pardon my behavior. It's true, though. You’re light on the eyes, but that’s all I see. Don’t look like you’ve even held a pistol, and from the looks of it, probably run your bazoo and snitch,” he wrinkles his nose. “I ain’t as trusting as the others. For good reason, too.”

He lets go of the stallion, leaning next to him as he watches you. “San trusts you, though. We aren’t what you think, what the chit chatting be saying about us. Hiding among the willows, filled with bug juice. It’s nothing of the sort.”

“Then why don’t you defend yourselves? Everyone is convinced you’re the worst criminals there are, that you’d shoot before anything else.”

There, you see it. The flicker of fury in his irises, the locking of his jaw, the dark glow to his eyes. But as quick as you see it, it fades away. He smiles again, and this time it doesn’t seem as genuine.

“Some of those rumors are true. Don’t be so beef-headed, miss y/n,” he tilts his head as he watches you. “Standing in front of this bucket of blood. Right where you stand, Yunho murdered a man.” Seonghwa flicks his gaze to the grass, pursing his lips. “Speaking of that, being alone is risky. This town ain’t as safe as the sheriff makes you think. Better to get to your home, something’s going down in a few clicks or so.”

Another shout comes from the bar, and Seonghwa sighs. “Go ta Yeosang’s place. Lock your doors, and don’t go by those windows.”

He kisses his horse’s face once more before walking around you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. He glances at the spot, eyes focused on yours. His expression is unreadable, and he nods once before, pulling his gun from the holster, kicking open the bar doors. You take that as your cue, half running, half jogging to the hotel. You ignore the whistles and shouts from the people standing not too far away from the front, running to your door and shutting it behind you.

The gun shots ring around you as you cover your ears, shaking as each one shoots through the air. A deadly reminder that you don’t belong here, that you should be home in modern society. That no matter how cool it is to be in the wild west, it isn’t cool to think about one of those gunshots ending up inside of you.

You need to get home.

“Won’t be that bad of an idea,” he says, brushing off her coat slowly. You lean against the tall pole next to his stall. He eyes you for a moment, scanning your skeptical expression before sighing. “We need to arrest them, y/n. Take them in for their crimes.”

“And why do you need me? I was in that jail for a reason, one that I don’t know. You’re being so harsh on them, and easy on me.” You flick off a leaf that falls, waiting for his response. You might be digging yourself into a hole, but it’s the only thing that you could think would stop him from this crazy idea of his. There’s no way you’d try to infiltrate their ranks, the risk is too high. These men aren’t like the ones back home.

“You’re not a threat. Don’t sense the bad mojo on you, can tell by looking into your eyes. You'll be safe; no harm will come to you. Bet a cat’s foot on it.” He snaps his fingers, winking at you.

You narrow your eyes. “Bet your life.”

Hongjoong widens his eyes as he looks at you. “I… no, miss y/n, that’s-”

“Yea yea, superstition and all.”

“You don’t believe in that?” He asks, watching as you shake your head. “Gotta be careful, miss. You’re a good one, that I know.

“Do you?”

“Mama ain’t raise no fool,” He says simply, patting Angel. “Be careful, you hear? Those men aren’t as kind as they may show you. Killed too many to consider them friendlies. Those men ain’t nothing but trouble. Don’t want to see you hurt. But if you don’t accept their invitation under the eyes of me, they might insist in ways I cannot help you with.”

You purse your lips. They’re walking freely through the town, through the darker sides that you don’t see right here. It’s a bit strange; shouldn’t they be put in jail? You’re sure that Hongjoong knows that’s their bar, and yet he hasn’t stormed it and arrested them. Angels neighs softly, stomping her feet. Hongjoong mumbles something against her fur, brushing hairs away from her eyes.

“Why don’t you just arrest them? You know where they’re at, right? Or is there some law that doesn’t allow you to?”

“Ah,” Hongjoong nods slowly. “Forgot about that place. Can’t arrest them if that town doesn’t want me to. You see, they’re infamous bandits in Mist, but not there. I dropped you off just outside of Mist, a smaller town called Halazi. Because the laws are different there, those slickers didn’t cause any ruckus there, so they ain’t going to be arrested. Deputy doesn’t allow me to’ even arrest any bodies there, especially those men. Brings in money to their town. Ain’t going to give that up anytime soon.” Hongjoong’s eyes flick to you.

“Assume you've seen them? Have they spotted ya?” You don’t respond, and he sighs. “Ah, you have then. Just… don’t get too close then. Please. And if you do, at least let me know before something happens. So I can keep an eye on you.”

You nod. “Of course, I won’t.”

“Joong’s paranoid. You’ll be fine. These boys don’t mess with no innocents, only the likes of them,” Jongho says, cleaning off a tray with mysterious blood on it. “Can’t believe he didn’t chain you to a fence, in all honesty. That Sheriff is a good one, but scared of a fly.” He clicks his tongue, washing his hands before looking at your wound again. “Ah, it’s healing well, ain’t it? Your skin is going to be pretty again, miss y/n, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” You say, smiling. “But I think he has reasons to worry. I didn’t exactly tell him the complete truth.”

Jongho raises his eyebrows. “Hm?”

You rub your arm, looking at the healing cut as you speak. “I met the guys. All of them; San, Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa. They wanted me to join their ranks, something about me being alluring. I refused, but then they responded that I won’t be refusing for much longer? I have no idea what that means, but in my honest opinion-”

“Sounds like a threat,” Jongho whispers slowly, and you nod. “Joong ain’t tell you ‘bout their crimes, did he? Nothing except the little flyers he has hanging round town?” You shake your head.

“San can tell his own story; it’s a big one, one that’ll take too long,” he grins. “The others joined after he decided to leave. Joong and them, friends for a long time. Since they were little ones, until he left. Yunho used to be my assistant, until he went away. Wooyoung is a mystery; lived here his whole life but decided to leave when Yunho did. Seonghwa was Joong’s partner, unofficially. Glued to his side like a worm in the gravel on a hot day. When they had a falling out, he was distraught, choosing between his two friends. Joong ain’t never going to forget when Seonghwa left him.”

“Their crimes are not as serious as it seems. Yes, they burglarized and murdered, but thestories behind each of them are cause for protest. They ain’t ever raised their pistols to an innocent, that’s why Joong ain’t that worried about you in that regard. Only murderers and people who gone against them but for good reasons, in my humble opinion,” Jongho begins cleaning off your cut.

“Then why does Hongjoong want them arrested? If they didn’t actually do anything horrible?”

Jongho thinks for a moment. “In a way, it’s ‘cause he’s heartbroken. But also, just because a person is bad don’t mean you go ‘round killing. There’s due process; jail, and from there punishment.”

He grins as he looks at you. “Like Wooyoung, for a teeny example. He killed many, but all of their crimes were dark, too explicit to even tell ya. Seonghwa hasn’t killed, that I know of but most of the others have. Yunho usually sits in the bars at night, though. More of an informant if anything.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t tell Hongjoong then,” you mumble to yourself, Jongho listening along. “He has a grudge and rightfully so, but some things should just be kept to myself. I think he’d take me out of Yeosang’s hotel immediately if he found out,” You tease, causing Jongho to chuckle.

“He would've, My lips are sealed, swallowing the key. But I’m still keeping an eye on you, don’t you forget that. Keep your ears cleared and your eyes open, miss y/n. Them guys ain’t that bad, but there’s trouble always surrounding them. Don’t join them, not even under fallacies. Those boys can sniff a rat amongst the willows.”

He taps your arm as he finishes. “Come back again, no one ever comes to see little ‘ol me.” He leans against the counter, looking at you. It looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t do anything but give you that signature grin. “Tell them, especially Yunho, I said howdy if you ever come ‘cross again. Big part of me thinks you will.”

He winks.

You’re not sure how you ended up here. In the middle of a field, flowers and other plants are seen for miles. Taking a small hike, you only expected more dirt and pesky bugs. You’re not sure if any diseases from the mosquitoes are actually cured by now, but it frightens you whenever one of them lands on you. You hum to yourself softly, letting the soft breeze swirl around you. It’s been a few weeks in between Mist and Halazi. You’ve seen San, Wooyoung, and the others more often than you’d like, their words enticing you more and more. But you’ve resisted for the most part, avoiding them whenever you turn the corner.

San and Wooyoung have been particularly insistent. You already moved out of Yeosang’s hotel, and into a room and board, farther away from the bar. But it seems like every time you step out of the doors, those two aren’t as far away.

Despite your very thinning resistance, you’ve ignored their requests for the most part. Even though Jongho told you that their crimes aren’t as bad as you may think, you don’t want to involve yourself with them. Hongjoong is happy as well, hearing from you that you didn’t dare join them. In a weird sort of way, it feels like a mouse and cat game, the duo dropping their cheese in front of your nose, and you running away from it.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” A voice behind you hums lightly. You yelp, turning to the voice. Wooyoung stands there, hands tucked into his slacks as he looks at the peonies around you. He tilts his head, eyes flicking to yours. “Thought you left, S was a bit ruffled.” He hums softly, leaning against a rock.

“Did you follow me out here?” You ask sternly. “I told you two I’m not joining your little crew of bandits-”

Wooyoung clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Ah, watch your words, miss. Just ‘cause we been nice, don’t mean we can’t stop.” He motions his hands in a scissor motion, winking at you. “And I ain’t follow you. Here’s my resting place, ways away from commotion of Halazi. And it’s my mama’s land, so you’re intruding, not I.” He grins at you. “Could get yourself shot, miss y/n.”

Your heart drops to your stomach as you scramble to your feet, panic in your eyes. “Shit- I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Wooyoung wiggles his fingers, shaking his head. He reaches back, putting the hat on his head as he watches you. “Mama ain’t so easy to forgive, lucky she ain’t see you out here. But, since I did catch you,” He taps his finger against his pouty lips, pretending to think deeply. “You owe me now, don’t you?”

His eyebrows raise as his lips slowly curl into an evil grin. You mentally slap yourself. What were you thinking? All land must have been owned around here, it is a small town after all. And look at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Wooyoung watches as you go through the hoops in your mind, your nose scrunched up as your eyes flick back and forth. He rests on the rock easily, humming again.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Can’t think of any at this very moment. Get back to you?” He says, “But we gotta shake on it. Can’t be having some white lies told, you know?” He holds out his hand. If you looked closely enough you could have seen the slightly wicked look in his eyes, the pure lust as your fingers curled around his for a shake. He lifts up your entwined hands, pressing his lips against it lightly.

“Best get a move on, Mama be home soon enough. Can’t be having any daisies ‘round, she carries the big guns.” Wooyoung flicks his head, “Unless you’d like to stay. I have enough room for a visitor.”

You’re at least fifty percent sure he’s asking for you to twist the sheets with him, as they say. Or in your language, fuck. Your face warms furiously as you pull your hand out of his, shaking your head.

“As you said, I need to get moving.”

He watches as you walk past him, eyes struggling to keep them on only your head, nothing lower. It’s not common to see a lady dressed in tight-fitting clothing, and little did you know, they were luring away the men who dared to creep on you. Stares are fine, but the words that Yunho heard in the bars... Speaking of that, his eyes move to look in the distance, at the cowboy that’s been watching you as of late. Wooyoung moves away from his rock, fingers lingering to his holster as he begins his approach.

“They’ve killed again,” A voice says softly between the crowd. You don’t pay any mind, knowing who they’re talking about. You can’t quite keep up with the drama that happens with the Leaders, their names constantly at the edge of people’s tongues. Instead, you push your way through and stay in the library, also owned by Yeosang.

He sits in the corner as you read through books, trying desperately to find a way back to your time. You think you’ve had enough of the sand in places you’d rather not mention, and the lack of water to take showers in. You’re sure someone saw you trying to clean yourself in a pond. Oddly, though, the guys didn’t smell bad. But you’d rather not dwell on that thought.

“You've been here for three days, miss,” Yeosang says, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. “Can just ask what you're looking for, youknow.”

You shake your head. “What if I told you I’m trying to figure out a way to go to the future, where you’re part of a boyband?”

Yeosang stays quiet for a moment, before he chortles to himself, shaking his head. “Spent too long with Jongho, sounding just like him. Boy band? Is that some sort of Sheriff department?”

You hold back your laughter, “Maybe I have been around Jongho too long.” These books in front of you could barely help you, most just telling you about folk tales, things you don’t need to know about right now. You put the books back on the shelves, thanking Yeosang before walking out. You hear a loud crowd in the distance, and squint, seeing men wearing black, surrounding someone on the ground. Your stomach drops once you recognize the figures from this distance.

Stay away, you say to yourself, keep under the radar. They already want you a part of them, and involving yourself in things like this would only entice them more. Make you tied up in drama you have no business being in. You look away, despite the growing yelling. This isn’t Hongjoong’s town; he’d never show up. But some part of you tells you to look, and you see someone running up to them. A shotgun is in their fingers, the Leaders’ backs to him.

Your eyes widen. He’s going to shoot them. He’s going to kill them with their backs to him. Your body immediately starts running, barely keeping yourself on your two feet as you breathe through your nose, pushing through randoms walking around. The man is so close, so very close. You might be too late, you might see one of them being killed -

San stands just over the man on the ground, an angry sneer on his lips as he aims his gun at him. Wooyoung stands next to him, Seonghwa on the opposite side with Yunho staring down at him. They don’t see the man aiming his gun, eyes narrowed as he adjusts his shot.

“San, move!” You scream, feet away. The shotgun man turns around as you yell, but turns back, finger slowly pressing on the trigger. You leap, shoving your body against San as the shot rings through the air. You’re not too sure where the others are, too focused on getting him out of danger.

You both fall to the ground in a loud thump, his body somehow rolling on top of yours. You hear commotion behind the two of you as you take heavy breaths, eyes on one another. He looks between yours, flicking around your face. A hand reaches out, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Shit, you got a cut. What the fuck were you thinking, funning in front of a shot like that?” He curses, anger in his voice. But you can only see the worry reflected in his eyes as he looks over you. “Don’t be stupid,” he hisses.

“If you paid more attention to who’s around you maybe I wouldn’t have to be stupid, stupid.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Stubborn gal.”

“Quit kissing faces and get up,” You hear a voice above the both of you, anger dripping from his words. You look back, seeing Wooyoung staring down at the both of you. “No time for flirting. Gotta show them no mercy.”

San looks down at you, a silly grin on his lips. “W sounds a bit cheeky, don’t he?” He lifts himself away from your body, holding out his hand to help you up. Reminds you of the first time you’ve met him, saved from the prison. But this time, Wooyoung helps you up from behind, San slowly dropping his arm.

Wooyoung glares at the blood dripping from your forehead, ignoring the scowls his partner gives him. “S is right, you know. Keep yourself outta trouble, you here? Ain’t want you to join us this way.” He grabs something from his back pocket. It’s a roll of cloth, he wraps it around the small wound, whistling.

He secures it with a metal clip, smiling lightly at his handy work before straightening his back, looking at the others. Yunho and Seonghwa stay silent, exchanging looks, while San’s fuming, his glare having the potential to melt any man who receives it. You can tell that Wooyoung knows he’s furious but chooses to ignore it, eyes moving to the man on the ground that attempted to kill them.

Some people that you don’t recognize hold him down. San crouches over, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Lucky this darling here is watching,” San stands. “Hwa. Take care of him, have other matters to tend to.” His eyes look at you. “Follow me.”

San paces around the room, Wooyoung sitting in the furthest corner. He watches you silently, darker eyes blinking rarely. His trenchcoat that drapes to the floor is oddly terrifying, making your eyes look over to him every so often. A part of you itches to speak up and ask exactly why he isn't blinking, but now seems like the wrong time. Yunho and Seonghwa are dealing with the man who tried to assassinate San, somewhere in the Halazi station. You bite your lip nervously, wondering why they insisted on you coming with them. They gave you room to refuse, of course, their gentlemanly cowboy ways superseding their need to speak with you.

San finally stops pacing, stopping a few feet away from you. "You’re strange." He says softly, eyes looking through his hair. "Can't seem to' wrap my noggin 'round you. Cold Cool as a winter's morn' but warm as Mama's sweet apple pie."

...

"Um—"

"You tell us to stay away, and we do for most parts." San nods at that. "Keep them sleazy men away from you since you insist on wearing revealing wear." He eyes your pants, before looking away. If you squint, you can see a slight color change to his cheeks.

If they call your pants and very thick shirt revealing, you could only imagine them in your time. Seeing short sleeve shirts and ankles. They'd go mad.

"But you saved me," he mumbles softly, rubbing his bottom lip. "Woo," his eyes flick to his partner. "Don't you think it's awfully strange of miss y/n to help us? Aught to make one wonder.“ He strokes his chin, humming to himself.

Wooyoung’s brows raised slowly, clicking his tongue. “You’re right. Why she helping us? Could’ve just left us for dead. Let the vultures pick off the bones. Seems like this lady cares ‘bout us.”

You can’t help but scoff at them, eyes-rolling. You don’t catch the clenching of Wooyoung’s jaw, San’s eyes narrowing at your action. “Talk about being full of yourselves. If you were anyone else I’d still do the same thing. Don’t try to stroke your ego.”

Wooyoung’s rings glisten as he moves away from the wall, taking slow steps closer to you. “Can’t help but talk like that, hm? It’s been a few now, you should’ve learned.”

“Learned what?” You say, keeping your voice steady. You hear a slight crack in your tone, hoping that they don’t notice. But from the slow curving of their lips, they know.

“Learned that the Leaders are called that for a reason, sweet pea. Learned that we only tolerate so little, and you crossed the line more than once,” he raises his fingers, flicking each one up as he counts. “Too many to even add up, you see.” He slowly tucks his hands in his pocket, chain glistening against his neckline.

San nods along. “That pretty face a’ yours only seems to get you in trouble. You know how many men we’ve fought off? Your feet are golden, darling. And you still walk around here like you own the town. Makes us look weak, and we can’t have that, hm?” He tilts his head, earring brushing against his skin as he eyes you. “Heard you owe Woo a favor.”

You don’t know whether to be frightened, scared, or a third thing. You watch as Wooyoung places his hat to the side, loosening his jacket. Your eyes glue to his exposed skin like you’re a deprived man from the 1700s seeing ankles for the first time. He reaches for his rings, but stops himself, smirking.

“You like the rings on me, don’t you?”

You swallow slowly, and San raises his eyebrows at you. “Answer the question, darling.”

“I do.” You say, seeing Wooyoung glance back at you. He slowly takes off his vest, leaving the loose-fitting shirt the only thing covering his chest from the both of you. San’s eyes drift over Wooyoung’s figure, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. But you can see the piercing gaze that Wooyoung gives him, the need dripping from his pupils as he looks back. Your heart pumps in your chest, quickly realizing what’s happening.

“I have the favor ready,” Wooyoung says softly, loosening the first few buttons. You see the golden shine of his chest as he moves closer, now inches away. “Ready to hear?” His voice rumbles in his chest, surly. His eyes lazily slide to your lips, before moving back to your eyes. San slowly approaches, taking off layers of his skin as Woo stares you down.

“Yes.”

He sneers, finger slowly trailing over the curve of your chin, stopping at the corner of your lips. He presses lightly on the skin, “Here’s my favor. Try not to scream, sweet pea.”

“Doubt that, don’t you think? Lady looks like a faucet,” San’s tongue trails over his lips as he watches Wooyoung’s fingers slowly go down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes flutter through trembling breaths as the rough pads of his thumbs dig lightly into your hips, slowly sliding you closer to him.

“There’s always room to say no, sweet pea,” Wooyoung says, barely above a whisper. “We love our ladies rough, but we always respect them. Like true gentlemen,” he snickers lightly. “Well, the gentle part isn’t as true.”

“Remember seeing you for the first time in the calaboose,” San says, watching as Wooyoung’s hands slowly slide underneath your shirt, rubbing lightly against your skin. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, biting his lip each time you twitch under his hold. “Thought you were an owl hoot, there to serve your time, but I suppose not?” He throws his hat to the side, fingers gracing over his pistol, before he lays it on the counter of the saloon.

Wooyoung distracts you, pressing his hips into yours. He slowly brings your body forward, light moans each time you rub against his hard bulge. You try to concentrate on San’s words, but Woo is taking up most of your attention, head leaning down and peppering kisses against your skin.

“Too pretty to be in that place, covered in dirt. Didn’t think I’d see you again, but look at what we've been through! Pistol whips, visits, bumping into one another. Don’t believe in soul’s meeting, but,” San walks to the door of the bar, locking it behind him, putting the closed sign on the outside.

It was open this whole time? Anyone could have walked in, seeing Wooyoung pressing himself against you as San watched. You tremble at the thought, Wooyoung biting your skin lightly.

“You smell too good, sweet pea,” he whispers against your skin. “Wonder if you smell good in other places.”

“Ah, you're spoiling her, don’t you think?” San nudges Woo’s arm. He presses one light peck to your neck before moving back. San stares at you, tilting his head in thought. “Wanted to see you like this for a while now. Didn’t expect to have ‘nother in the room, but that only makes things interesting.”

“Take our time?” Wooyoung asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Bar opens in less than a nick’s time. Can’t have any ol’ seeing her like this.”

San sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Choices?”

Wooyoung rubs his chin, glancing at you. “Wait ‘til tonight, might be-a few hours, passed drunk fighting. Or, have sweet pea here and now, tonight can be round two.”

San nods slowly, eyes moving to you. “Your choice, darling.”

“Now.” You say simply.

San’s lip twitches in the corner. “Now? Can’t wait for us, can you?”

Wooyoung snickers, “Look at our sweet pea. She’s trembling just thinking ‘bout what we’d do to her.”

“Or that you’re taking too long to even start,” You say softly, eyebrow flicking in challenge. “Two boys in front of me but neither are even trying.”

You hear a low rumble from Wooyoung’s chest, taking a step forward. San stops him, quirking his brows. “Can’t stop that mouth of yours, hm? Still haven’t learned.”

You reach for your vest, slowly unbuttoning each one. Their eyes trail to your fingers, watching each one come loose. Once you reach the bottom, you toss it to the side, your smirk mirroring there’s from earlier. San moves first, pressing his lips against yours. It’s in no way gentle, feverish as you let him pull off your shirt. Your teeth clash against one another as he loosens his belt, throwing it to the side. You hear a crash, your head slightly turning to the sound. But San’s wandering hands feel your breasts, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“You’re a pretty thang, aren’t ya?” He whispers. You’ve forgotten about the other for a moment, at least until you feel his ring covered hands slowly moving underneath your trousers, tugging them down. San leans back slightly away from you, lifting you up against the counter as Wooyoung takes them completely off, leaving your bottom bare against the counter.

You shiver at the cold of the counters. San slowly spreads your thighs, flicking below. “Ah, you’re soaked, darlin’. Gonna make my bar all dirty.”

You feel the metal of Woo’s fingers press against your core, a low growl falling from his lips as San flicks your nipple, squeezing your breasts. He slowly presses kisses into your skin, covering your nipple with his lips, lightly sucking. You wrap your fingers in his locks as Wooyoung slowly inserts two fingers into you.

“Sucking me right in,” He mumbles, a featherlike kiss pressed just above your clit. You moan as he chuckles, tongue slowly trailing over the nub. Your hips lift forward at the touch, his fingers moving in and out of you quickly. “Feel you squeezing around me, sweet pea. How can I even fit if you’re already this tight?”

He sucks on your slit, enjoying you trembling at his ministrations. San takes your other breast in his mouth as Wooyoung increases the pace, another finger added. You feel him pressing his thumb into the other hole, slightly spreading your ass. You widen your eyes as he uses your slick to press two fingers into it.

“Shit,” You gasp. The buildup to your high is quick, Wooyoung’s eager growls into your cunt, skilled fingers sucking him in with little resistance; San’s soft lips, teeth biting lightly. Plump lips wrap around your slick as your cunt sucks in his fingers with little resistance.‌ Your eyes roll back as you spasm against his fingers. You push him away as you slowly reach the point of overstimulation, his head moving away. You can see your slick covering his cheeks, fingers covered in you.

“As sweet as a pumpkin pie, sweet pea,” he says softly. “Would give Mama a run for her money.”

San rolls his eyes, “Talking bout ya momma right now?” He strips off his pants, your eyes immediately flicking between his thighs. His cock springs out onto his belly, dripping with precum. You groan at the size, until you hear the ruffling of another pair of pants. Their eyes scan your body, too clouded with lust to think of anything else. San’s eyes scan yours, waiting for your consent.

“Both of us, at the same time. Think you can handle that?” He rubs his length slowly, enticing you.

“Think you can handle me?” You say, smiling up at him.

His eyes go dark, your face reflects his eyes as he leans down, pressing his lips lightly against yours. “Lift up for me, darling. W is gon’ take your behind, I’ll take you right here…” he cups your cunt.

You get off of the counter when he lets go, Wooyoung replacing you. He looks at the clock, worry in his eyes. “Less than cooking time now.” He looks at you. “Your words say a lot, let's see if we can prove it true.”

You slowly move forward, San slapping your ass as you press your lips against Wooyoung’s. His fingers curl in your hair, kiss much more gently than San’s. His tongue plays with yours slowly, before he pulls back. Through the lust, you can see the tender look he gives you. Something you haven’t seen from him.

“You’re doing so well. Can’t wait to see you sitting on me.”

You roll your eyes, turning around as he laughs. He helps you sit on his lap backward, his cock twitching against your ass as he groans, licking the curve of your neck. “Ready for me, sweet pea?”

“Yes.”

You slowly sink on his cock, fingers digging into his thighs at the stretch. His descent into you is slow, his lips pressing against your neck as you groan, trying his best to distract you from the burning feeling. You sit there for a moment, the overwhelming feeling of your ass being filled distracting you from San for a moment. Wooyoung continues to press kisses into your skin, until San clicks his tongue.

His cock looks as if it's almost vibrating, waiting. “Ready for me, darling?”

San watches as you nod for him, moving towards you. He wastes no time; rocking his cock a couple of times before sinking into your cunt with vigor. You didn’t realize how long he is; the head of his cock nudging at your cervix. You moan, his balls resting at the entrance. You feel more full than you’ve ever did before, your mind consumed with only them.

Wooyoung moves tentatively, fingers digging into your hips as he moves.

“Relax up, y/n,” San mumbles, rubbing your arm softly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forehead pressing against one another. “Can feel you movin’, W.”

“Move, fuck… move, or else I’ll cum right into her,” Wooyoung says through clenched teeth, moaning every time he feels your rim squeeze against his cock. San lets out a breath as he slowly drags his cock out of you. His gaze moves between your legs, watching as Wooyoung’s cock moves, his disappear in and out of you.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” he mumbles.

You open your mouth to reply, but he takes that chance to sink into you quickly, pressing lips against yours. Your combined moans echo in the room as they move in sink; San in, Wooyoung out. Wooyoung pushing in, San moving away. The rolling of San’s hips hitting yours with ease, skin pressing against your clit each time he pushes in. Wooyoung’s hips move with the force of San; not stuttering once.

“Faster,” You encourage, causing Wooyoung to laugh behind you.

“You’re real different, y/n,” he says, but his body agrees with your request, picking up the pace. The feeling of being moved between both of their bodies, Wooyoung’s shirt covered chest pressing into your back, San’s sweat dripping onto you makes you weak, your breaths stuttering.

You hear a knock on the door. San’s pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with you, the squelching sounds echoing in the small bar. Wooyoung’s grip is so tight, you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. They don’t seem to care about how loud their being, the knocks disappearing quickly.

San groans as he slowly reaches his high. “Gon’ empty in you, y/n. Tell me no, if you don’t want it.”

“San,” You struggle through your gasps, and he grins at you, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “Please.”

“You’re doing so well for me, y/n. Look so pretty underneath me. But I n-need to know-”

“Cum in me,” You say through gasps. “Both of you.”

His groan makes your body tremble. Your fingers are probably putting cuts into Wooyoung’s thighs as you scream, cunt squeezing against their cocks as you finally cum.

Wooyoung’s muscles strain as he holds you up, veins popping out on his arm as he revels in the feeling of your cunt around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, trying to hit his high. But once the squeeze of your rim tightens against his cock, he groans, pressing in once more. His hips sputtering as his cock-squeezing out his cum.

San isn’t too far away, desperate gasps as he slams his balls against your cunt. He pushes in once, twice, before his hips sputter, his balls slapping against you. You feel the hot of his cum hit your walls, his warm body pulling you into his chest, pressing kisses into your forehead. Wooyoung wraps his arm around you from behind, your pants echoing around the room.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We got five,” San mumbles, his cock popping out of you. The smell of sex surrounds you all as he quickly grabs a piece of cloth from the side, slowly cleaning you off. He grins at the mess they made between your legs, Wooyoung taking his cock out. San presses the fabric into your holes as you whine, pushing him away.

“Wait.”

“Can’t have the children on the floor, darling,” San winks. “W, bring her to the back. Can’t have her ‘round when the doors open.”

Wooyoung wastes no time in picking you up with a yelp, holding you gently as he carries you to the doors behind the bar. He looks at you, pushing your hair away from your face.

“Haven’t seen you more beautiful than now, sweet pea.”

He lightly places you on the bed, looking around for a water bucket. Once he finds it, he slowly cleans you up, humming softly. You don’t know what to say. What’s your relationship now? Are they going to throw you away right after this, a one time thing? You’re not even sure if you want to continue it, but the thought of never seeing them again makes your stomach twist.

Wooyoung seems to see the conflicting emotions on your face, because he stops bringing the pants up your legs, lightly cupping your cheek with his hand. “We ain’t gon’ give you up that easily, sweet pea. If you want us, that is.”

You widen your eyes, holding back your smile as you look at him. “So, this isn’t a one time thing? You’re not gonna toss me away?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “When you hit gold, do you just throw it away? No, you cherish it, keep it as your own. We want you as ours, sweet pea.” he looks into the distance. “All of us do.”

“…All of you?”

Wooyoung gives you a lopsided smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You thought we two were the only ones?”

#fic: the leaders #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fanfiction #jung wooyoung x reader #choi san x reader

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strawberrystepmom · 1 year ago

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tsukasa x f!reader. reader is a medical specialist and has two friends - the farmer and the navigator. wc 2.9k

Tsukasa is looking in your direction again.

You never have to look up to see it, feeling his rich brown eyes searing into you even from a distance is enough to know, but this time you do. Flicking your gaze upward to meet his, you see the faintest hint of a smile on his face and he looks away, embarrassed. If you were closer you’re certain that his tan skin would be dusted with the faintest hue of pink across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose - it has been all of the other times you’ve caught him so you can fill in the blanks on your own now.

“You could just speak to him, you know?”

Whatever reverie you were enjoying is quickly interrupted by your friend, the farmer, bringing a bundle of fresh medicinal herbs to your desk, plopping the twine tied bundle down on your work table. She folds her arms and leans over the table, bending at the waist, and you scoff.

“I don’t want to hear it from you.”

She shrugs and brushes the dirt she just flung across your table off with the side of her hand, letting it settle on the ground below both of your feet. It has been around a month since everyone arrived at the settlement and while you don’t ever dare assume things are going to be great, even before petrification your worried and logical nature served as a compass to keep you from doing so, they have gone better than expected. Everyone seems to get along well, the Ishigami VIllage settlers are eager to help and to find their place, and winter preparations are underway without issue.

You do have one issue, though, and he just so happens to be staring at you again even with the shield of your friend’s body between the two of you. Glancing over her shoulder, you don’t bother to meet his eyes and instead keep an eye on his form, thick forearms carrying unfathomably large stacks of lumber from one end of the camp to the other to build new pens for the horses. Tsukasa spends most of his time with them and he took the responsibility of creating new shelter for them on his own - the lack of manpower and muscle in the camp prevented this project from being completed until now.

He brought all the muscle and manpower you could ever ask for and it frustrates you to your very bones.

“I’ll bet he’s lonely over there by the stables all on his own.” Your friend teases and you shoot her a glance, pretending to inspect the yarrow and wild ginger she brought you to make medication with. “You should go and check in on him. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Picking up the bundle, you wave it in her direction and point it toward the door.

“I’m just saying!” A poor attempt to defend herself but she tries nevertheless, shifting where she stands so that she’s no longer bent at the waist and instead pressing her hip against the edge of the table with her arms still folded. “Fresh bread is about to come out of the oven if whatever the hell Ryusui has been yelling about all day is true so you better grab some and take it to him before there’s none left.”

Fresh bread has become less of a luxury now that the Ishigami settlers and their chef have come along but it goes as quickly as it can be made. Considering for a minute that he may miss out if he’s too busy, you sigh and stretch your arms over your head while rising from the wooden stool you were sitting on. The shit eating grin of your friend makes you roll your eyes and you playfully bump shoulders with her when you pass by, headed toward the galley.

Perhaps you like Tsukasa more than you originally assumed you would. He’s handsome, of course, but anyone with eyes can see that and you assumed at first that he was no more than met your eye. Until you met his sister, his gentle doting over her coming off as nothing less than altruistic and loving. Until he started looking at you with affection you’d only dreamed of from across the camp, something so gentle in his eyes you believed you imagined it but it kept happening.

This is not a time to think about feelings, you remind yourself. The world is developing and whether you and your fellow settlers wanted it or not, you are its architects with science and medicine and lust for a life similar to how it once was.

A crowd has already formed around the galley and you groan, considering walking away empty handed rather than dealing with the thick of people. You know everyone, it’s the nature of things given there are less than 75 people in the settlement total, but it feels humiliating to be waiting here for bread that isn’t even for you. It’s for a man you find yourself endlessly intrigued by, someone you desperately want to get to know.

“Hey!”

You are caught before your thoughts can spiral too far and the local navigator and mapmaker waves at you, her hair a fresh pink from the dye Senku developed at her request, and she holds out a couple of medium sized rolls wrapped in a cloth to you. Steam wafts off of them and even your mouth waters a bit in anticipation of biting into it.

“You two set me up,” you shoot toward the woman who shrugs. They did indeed set you up, planning to create a situation where you’d have no choice but to go to the object of your affections, but it’s hard to be mad when it’s well meaning.

“Tell your little friend I said to mind her business.”

The navigator snorts and waves you off toward the stables in the distance with a fond smile.

“Love you too!”

You don’t respond with anything but a barely audible grunt but you don’t have to, knowing that the bond between you, the navigator, and the farmer is as unbreakable as anything has ever been. The three of you have built this small community from the ground up with the assistance from everyone here. There have been arguments, of course, but ultimately the purpose has remained the same for everyone and that is making sure that every person has a great quality of life in tumultuous times.

Walking across the slowly yellowing grass on your way to the stables, you look around in awe at how autumn has arrived practically right before your eyes. The leaves blaze in shades of red and orange, the sun hangs low in the sky and warms away whatever chilly breeze may otherwise make you uncomfortable, and before you know it your legs have carried you down a path you’re familiar with and you find yourself faced with the man you try so hard to avoid.

He’s inescapable, you’ve now realized, and the thought makes you want to bolt but you hold your head up and smile at him.

“Hi there,” he offers kindly. That faint dusting of pink colors his cheeks and you find it hard to look away, wishing your traitorous fingertips didn’t want to reach out and feel the warmth beneath them. He looks to you like someone who runs warm blooded, a passionate man with a fire inside of him that burns inside out.

“Hi.” You finally respond in like, holding up the cloth wrapped bread slightly awkwardly. “Fresh out of the oven, I wanted to make sure you got some.”

You’ve never really done anything like this before and courting has become even more necessary and uncomfortable in a world where marriages and love can easily be bargaining tools to make a more comfortable life for everyone. You know all too well about Senku’s advantageous marriage and divorce, something the farmer has lamented on more than one occasion given her budding affection for the scientist, but you do not want him to see you as an advantage or a stepping stone because that is not how you see him.

You see him for the man he is. Warmth that runs deep enough you swear you can see a little fire in his irises isn’t something that should only be chosen for advantage, it should be stoked and adored.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

His words are a little awkward as well. All of this, love and affection, are just as new to him as they are to you and he hopes that you don’t think he is rude or cold or mean or anything he has been accused of being in the past based off of the assessments of those who don’t know him.

“It’s the least I can do considering you’re making sure our horses have a warm winter, too.”

You smile and he feels his face burn rather than just heat, the pink deepening into something closer to red. Any praise he receives from you sticks in his mind for days afterward and it makes him embrace the moments, considering you wouldn’t even say his name for the first several weeks they were here. It didn’t stop his feelings from developing further and further every day, though, and now they weigh heavily on his mind when he sees you.

Could you ever love him? Would you ever want to? It keeps him up at night if he lets it.

“I’m glad to be able to do it. They deserve somewhere nice and warm, too.” You lift the bread in his direction and present him with one of the still steaming rolls and his eyes widen, a genuine smile breaking across his features. “Speaking of warm…it’s still hot and everything.”

Giggling at his amazement, you nod. There’s something so indescribably boyish about him beneath the masculinity of his exterior and you see it most when he smiles. You haven’t learned much about the man from his own mouth, instead from his sister Mirai and Gen who is always eager to talk about anyone, but you know that he hasn’t always had much to smile about. His life has been marked by a lot of worry and strife and even the mentalist himself remarked that he seemed lighter since arriving in America a few days back, the fresh air and chance to continue to help reinvigorating him.

“I didn’t want you to miss out.”

For a moment, you consider if you should walk away. Maybe he wants to be left alone so he can go right back to work, the sun setting earlier every day leading into the cold season leaves little time to get work done during daylight hours but he nods toward a makeshift bench that is just a plank propped up on two stumps.

“Do you have time to stay for a while?”

Again, the terrible urge to bolt comes over you. Looking around camp you judge how much of a scene it would make to flee, rushing toward the medical barn with your head down. It would almost certainly cause more of a scene than just sitting beside him considering nobody is looking in the direction of the two of you, granting you more privacy than you expected.

“Sure,” you answer, smiling hopefully and keeping your head slightly downturned to conceal it at least a little. You don’t get your hopes up, after all. “I have to make medicine but that can wait until later.”

Tsukasa hums, clearly interested in what you have to say about these medications, and leads you toward the bench. The clearing is dappled with sunlight coming through the grove of trees above you and it feels like something out of a movie you watched once, something involving a lonely man searching for something to anchor him to the world besides persistent pain. He found love in a clearing just like this, sunshine warming his face and presenting him with the fact that life might not be as bad as it has always seemed.

“Oh yeah? What are you making this time?”

He sits and you follow suit, sliding beside him but keeping a respectable distance. You unwrap your bread and cross your knees, leaning forward slightly. His eyes are on you again but you choose to occupy yourself with the warm food in your hands instead, tearing off a small piece to cool down.

“Well, I was given some yarrow which is good for inflammation and some ginger which is good for stomach aches and now I have to figure out how to process them both and still make them as effective as possible which is a challenge sometimes.”

Tsukasa has never considered himself stupid but he knows he can’t keep up with this line of conversation due to lack of experience so he nods, tearing off a piece of bread himself and shoving it into his mouth. While chewing he internally reviews each of his motions - do you think he’s rude? Impolite? Brutish? Is he eating too loudly? Is he too much?

All he worries about is how you view him and yet it remains a mystery. He wants to believe the returned glances are your way of repeating his affection back to him but cautiousness keeps him from mindlessly dreaming. What if he’s misreading?

You glance at Tsukasa out of the corner of your eye and realize that you may not be the only overthinker sitting on this bench, his eyes clouding slightly while he gets lost in his own mind. It’s hard to say what he’s thinking about without being there but you clear your throat after chewing your first bite and he turns his attention back to you as quickly as he can.

“I’m sure Senku can find a way to help if I need it, though. He’s good about that.”

Nodding, he agrees with your assessment of his good friend. Senku is a good man and a gifted leader despite his sometimes lax attitude and there have been many situations he has already helped resolve around the camp since arriving. A less evolved and kind part of him is frustrated that he does not have the same skills to best help you but he will always offer what he does have which is time and a tender heart full of longing.

“I could help if you need it,” he offers and you smile, giggling to yourself. You don’t bother to hide this one and he revels in the sight of your pretty lips and teeth, something just for him. You are beautiful and often smile but never this effortlessly. “I’m serious. I have hands and can tear some flowers off of their stems.”

Looking down at his hands while you chew another bite of your bread, you raise your brows and swallow. Without thinking, you let your thoughts take on a mind of their own and your voice follows suit.

“I’m sure you could tear a lot more than flowers from stems with those hands.”

He can’t be certain but he believes you may very well be flirting with him. Raising his brows in return, he chuckles. The surprise in his laughter cannot be hidden and immediately you wish you would have bolted back to the barn and given everyone a story to tell at dinner tonight.

“Maybe a long time ago but now I only want to use them for healing or…” he trails off a moment and you look up at him through your lashes, your own face warm with embarrassment from your slip of the tongue. “Loving, maybe.”

The way the word comes off of his tongue tells you that there’s nothing short of a lover beneath the exterior. Loving, you think. Maybe he could love me.

Chewing another bite, you let the weight of both of your words settle. Perhaps your friends were right to set you up on a perfect autumn day, the breeze rusting his dark hair around his shoulders and making him resemble the man who fell in love in a light dappled clearing even more. Your heart pounds in your chest and you try to play it off, shrugging flippantly.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Your question isn’t a question as much as it is a statement but it’s exactly what Tsukasa needed to hear and he nods in agreement. This is the smallest shred of hope you like him that he’s dared to tuck into his mind yet but he does it. This hope will carry him through the chilly evening while he’s in his bed, wondering if you could ever love him or not.

She will. He thinks to himself in the daylight, bold enough to think about you while you’re sitting next to him. I’ll make sure I’m worthy of it.

#dr stone x reader #tsukasa x reader #tsukasa shishio x reader #tsukasa imagines #kendall writes

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local-crying-boy · 29 days ago

Text

🅂🄰🄼 🅆🄸🄻🅂🄾🄽

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚂𝚊𝚖 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚌!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚖 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 890

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The final battle was one that was hard on everyone who fought, everyone experienced lost after getting so many people back. The lives lost to bring back humanity was a necessary one, but a painful one nevertheless. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it was necessary so that the world could get their loved ones back, you couldn't stop the pain in your heart every time you remembered the faces of everyone who had died in order to get the world back.

The battle had ended, everyone was regrouping and finding those they had lost, taking time to their selves as they slowly came down from the adrenaline of the fight.

You couldn't let yourself sit idly by the debris of what was the Avengers compound, so, with achy bones and muscles, you had limped away until you found the lake that wasn't too far away from where the building would have been. The damage hadn't met the entirety of the once beautiful scenery, so you were grateful for that.

With your battered and ripped suit, covered in mud and dust and blood, you settled down on the floor. You were no God, you were no enhanced individual, you had only the skills you were trained to have back in S.H.I.E.L.D. and you were hurt, sore, exhausted.

Pulling off most of the top half of your suit, you were left in the trousers and long-sleeved undershirt - and even that was torn to pieces and stained with red. You shivered at the pain that coursed through your body, it finally kicking in now that you were no longer simply running on fumes.

You knew you should have done something about the injuries you had sustained, or even found the rest of the remaining people that survived the battle, and maybe you should have done that instead of retreating away like a wounded animal so no one could see you. However, now that you were sat on the floor, you couldn't bring yourself to go and find anyone, or to get help.

A part of you questioned if you were going to be one of the many who had died today, with how tired you felt and with how many hits you had taken today, you wouldn't have blamed your body for giving out, or your mind for allowing it to.

You ended up running your hand through your mattered hair, grimacing when you felt the blood there as well, and it wasn't just yours. You let out a wavering sigh as the same hand dropped, wrapping around your abdomen while you sifted to try and get in a better position - one that stopped that screaming pain in your ribs.

"<<Reader>>?" You heard a familiar voice from not far off, your head shot up at the sound.

He was in bad shape too, cuts and dirt all over his face and his suit, but he still looked the same as he did five years ago. You were quick to shoot up from where you were slumped, ignoring every single screaming muscle as you stood up. "Holy shit, Sam."

The two of you met in the middle, as you practically stumbled into his arms, causing him to grabbed onto your forearms to prevent you from falling. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug, and he was swift to reciprocate it.

You let out a choked sob when you felt his warmth, his skin, him. He was real, after all these years of simply not existing anymore, he was there. He was real. He was in front of you. He was alive.

The second the two of you pulled away for a moment, just to look each other in the eye, you crash your lips against his. Your heart hammered in your chest as he kissed you back slow, just as he would have all those years ago, like nothing had ever changed. His hand snaked around your waist as his other hand rested on the back of your neck, his mouth warmth against yours.

It felt like pure warmth, happiness. It felt like familiarity almost long forgotten, it felt like home and love and hope and every single emotion that you had ever felt with him. It was everything you could have wanted, it was a kiss of 'I love you' and 'I miss you'.

When the two of you pulled away, Sam cupped your face as his eyes glazed over every detail of your face. "You've changed."

"No shit." You breathed out, leaning your forehead against his as your eyes fluttered shut, your words had earned such a quiet chuckle from him - oh, how you missed the sound.

His hands trailed down to your shoulders, then to your waist again, you felt so incredibly heavy that he had no choice but to be your stability in the moment. His touch, however, meant so much more than just keeping you upright, it meant the silent 'I got you' and 'I'm here' and ' I'm not going anywhere'.

His touch meant everything now, it meant that you weren't alone anymore. It meant that there were no more nights alone, in bed, as your cried yourself to sleep as you thought about everything you missed about the man in front of you.

He meant so much more than just stability right now.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

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jades-typurriter · 6 months ago

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Copy & Replace

Hiiiiiii it's time once again for everyone's favorite Situations Cat AND everyone's favorite Renamon!! We're pitting two bad bitches against each other (and eventually they end up as The Same Bad Bitch) <3 Thank you to @bluebearial for the sketch!! She's one of Posie's strongest soldiers everybody say thank you Bee

CW: Initially-unwanted TF, Identity Death

“Ugh, why do these places always have so many spreadsheets?”

Anodyne grumbled in disdain, hologram paws flipping through hologram pages in a hologram file-folder, all projected from a port in the side of a rack-mounted storage drive. Don’t get her wrong, she could understand the appeal of a good spreadsheet. Sometimes the 1’s and 0’s just felt good to put in their proper places, like the satisfying click of a fresh stick of RAM. She wasn’t here for plain old accounting records, though—she cracked her way into places like this to see the juicy dirt, to cause problems! These weren’t even the cooked kind of books!!

She huffed, resigning herself to an even longer search for something incriminating, or at least interesting. One ear swiveled toward a router on a desk on the other side of the room, tingling with the invisible waves of light that bore an upload into the room. A big one; probably an executable from the looks of the metadata. That was her cue! She figured it was about time that what passed for an antivirus around here came looking for her.

The catbot dove headfirst into the digital folder, paws together in front of her like an Olympic diver. It flipped shut with the riffling sound of a thick book closing and zipped back into the drive it was stored on, stashing Anodyne discreetly out of the way just as another projection manifested itself into the room. The electronic door slid open, and the empty space was quickly filled with gray-blue pixels and the sound of high heels tapping on the tile floor. The blocks of light resolved themselves into the imposing figure of a Renamon woman, nearly as tall as the server racks themselves, scanning the room with her harsh gaze. She stood stock still in the silent space for a moment, paws folded behind her back. Annie half-expected her to reach down to the surface of the desk to her side and inspect it for dust.

“I could have sworn,” she muttered to herself, apparently satisfied that nothing was out of place, “that there had been some suspicious file requests from here…”

The cat giggled to herself as she peered out from between the broad, flat computers resting on the slats of the rack, paws perched on the edge as though she was peering through a set of blinds, or hiding behind a couch to spook a friend. She was certain that the Renamon’s eyes had passed over the contents of the files themselves—another digital being ought to know better than anyone that not all intruders were physically inside the building. Still, she’d escaped notice, at least on a quick browse. That was one of the benefits of being able to fit on a 3.5-inch floppy disk! Now, all she needed to do was transfer herself back out of here before the Rena could do a more in-depth search, and—

All eyes in the room flicked to a red indicator light that had begun flashing on one of the monitors.

“Oh, it’s time for my backup,” the Renamon thought aloud. “Unlike me to let it sneak up on me, but I suppose I was busy trying to sneak up on something else.” She chuckled a quiet, refined ohoho before turning to the rack Annie had hidden herself in. “How convenient that I’m already down here!”

To the robot’s horror, she realized that she hadn’t bothered to check what subfolder she’d burrowed her way into. She quickly checked the file directory she was in: Repository/DD:/Users/Posie/Rollback.

Well, shit.

She tried, with a little more urgency this time, to get the hell out of DD:/odge, but felt like she had just bonked her plastic snout into a glass window. The disk was preventing transfers other than the upload from this Posie lady, which honestly pissed her off more because she wasn’t designed with a feature like that more than anything else. Back in her model’s day, if the power went out or something else interrupted a write to the disk, you were just fucked! She supposed she was fucked either way, but damn if she hadn’t been inconvenienced enough times by “user safety” restrictions that she’d go down bitching about them one last time.

She felt her colors begin to change as her settings were re-mapped to those of the Renamon; her shiny white plastic first grayed, then turned cooler, bluer, as though she were a plane icing over in the upper stratosphere. Her blunt snout took on a pointier profile, and the short, cartoony lines that served as the eyes on her visor redrew themselves into sleek, eyeliner-wing shapes. The holographic hair between her ears fizzled out, while a wavy dewlap flickered on around her chest; the TV-static fur that danced along her paws and forearms became more dense, coalescing into two fingerless elbow gloves. Yet more fur sprouted (more like sparked, really) into being along her body, her hips widening as she grew a skirt to match the office lady’s inbuilt attire. Why were her hips always getting bigger, when it came to this sort of thing? Not that she’d ever complain about getting curvier. Honestly, in spite of herself, she was getting a little excited at the prospect of this change, too. The Rena was attractive… But seriously, she couldn’t even remember how many times something like this has happened before. It must’ve been—

Wait, no, she really couldn’t remember. With her model largely aligned with the Renamon’s, her storage began to change next, wave after wave of infinitesimal magnetic pulses realigning the patterns of her bits into those of a new woman’s. Most of the appearances of her own designation were replaced, one by one, with “Posie”. As she tried to recount previous misadventures on heists like this one, she found some already missing. I was unsettling, but honestly, it felt a lot like having her short-term storage scrambled by a magnet: it was, all at once, scary and empty, but freeingly light, like the thoughts were being replaced with a nice, fuzzy noise function.

As the read/write head glided over the metal surface she was stored on, she only got more and more worked up. Run-ins with the gooey, creeping tendrils of ransomware and the feeling of being squeezed through the nozzle of a 3D printer flashed through her mind as they were located, accessed, and promptly formatted for space. In their place were to-do lists, chat histories with highers-up, schematics and floor plans of the building—at least she’d gotten the dirt she’d come for, one way or another. She felt less and less of her usual itch to poke and prod and send people scrambling, and more and more of a drive to leave everything she touched in perfect order.

By the time the last of her flings had been replaced by Posie’s personality, she felt herself developing a visceral… discomfort, at the memories. They intrigued her, but surely they were beneath her. Unbecoming. She tried to ignore the server rack’s cooling fans spinning faster. Soon enough, those old experiences had been written over anyway, leaving her with nothing but a baseless sense of apprehension (excitement?) and a lingering heat on her face.

Posie’s own history had been neatly superimposed on the digital space they once occupied, a contingency in case something ever happened to her active instance. One could never be too careful, after all! She shuddered at the thought of data corruption… She knew, though, that she could still rest easy, having taken precautions for every eventuality. She paused, processing her current situation. Evidently, she’d been vindicated in all her extra attention to redundancy. Her backup—she herself, now, she supposed—was only ever supposed to boot in the event of the deactivation of the original copy, which meant something had gone awry! That was one thing she hadn’t planned for, she mused: getting herself up to speed whenever her failsafe kicked in to begin with. She accessed the most recent files she could, from moments before her upload, and found nothing but a few temporary files lingering in the back of her mind. They belonged to a different program entirely, according to their metadata. Anodyne? Perhaps that was the one behind the network breach she’d been investigating.

She sighed. That meant there was yet another mess to clean up, and once again, it fell to her to keep things in working order. What a shame that she couldn’t even depend on herself to do her job correctly around here… Her old self, anyway. Posie knew that she would handle it with her usual meticulous eye for detail, unerring precision, efficient and timely—

Her affirmations were interrupted as she materialized herself from the drive, nearly smacking her face straight into… her face.

“What on Earth?” Posie exclaimed.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Posie asked, incredulous, and more than a little irritated.

“I’m—” Posie stuttered. “Well, I suppose I’m your backup.”

“Right,” Posie scoffed, “because the system I put in place would start up without the proper conditions being met. I knew someone was poking around in here! I’m quarantining you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Posie snapped. She hesitated before continuing; that cache of temporary files was all that was left of the intruder, but something about them left her with the feeling that she hadn’t been Posie until just now. Between that, and the fact it had taken her so much grasping at her own memories to recollect herself, the lack of second-nature familiarity with her file structure… She shook her head. Of course she wasn’t herself until just now—she hadn't been anybody until just now! That was another flaw her original copy had left her to deal with, she supposed. The temporary files would be cleaned up soon enough, and she’d adjust to her new runtime. “Check for yourself, if you must.”

“Fine,” barked Posie, “I will. And then when I find out whose paw is sock-puppeting my own face at me, I’ll do much more than just quarantine—” She froze as she began to appraise her copy, doing a double-take as her eyes flickered across her figure in search of flaws.

“What is it?” Posie demanded, looking herself over to see what all the fuss… Oh. A certain connector jutted out from under the fur bunched around her waist, and she recalled the confused, flustered haze she’d been in a few moments before coming online.

“I assure you, you must have such unprompted malfunctions as well.”

“Me? How vulgar!”

“I’m also you! I was copied from you!”

“Then there must have been an error in the copying process.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t user error?”

“You would certainly be familiar with user error, wouldn't you?”

The two virtual vixens squabbled with each other, seated at workstations on opposite sides of the room. Management had supposed that two Posies would increase productivity at least twofold—after all, they’d surely be so in sync that they’d be able to coordinate better than simply adding another person to the workforce, right?—but in reality, their similarity made them like matching poles of a pair of magnets.

“Maybe you would make such a simple mistake, but—”

“O-ho, and what happened to being my exact copy?”

“If we were exact copies, I wouldn't have to straighten up every little thing you leave out of place. Didn’t you come up with our workflow? Really, I think you might actually have had some files damaged for me to have activated on my own.”

“Oh, yes, parts of you certainly seemed to activate on their own.”

“I—! My hardware must have been running a diagnostic to make sure I didn’t have any leftover artifacts from you.”

“Yes, that would be quite the artifact, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t say it like it could have come from anywhere other than your original files! It’s far too big an addition to be explained by a little misplaced data!”

“Big, indeed. And unsightly. Uncontrollable! It’d explain why you miss so many little details; you seem to be very focused on ‘misplacing’ data.”

“Is that what you call it when you abandon your post every 20 minutes to ‘make an upload’ to the central server?”

The two of them stammered and huffed themselves into a sort of tense truce at that remark. Neither of them would ever admit it to each other, but both of them were eager to feel another data transfer, and now that it’d been discussed so brazenly, neither could take their mind off of it. They sat at their respective desks, hoping the other wouldn’t notice the deep blue blush beneath the fur of their cheeks, the uncomfortable shifting and crossing of their legs, the pace of their work slowing to an agonizing crawl…

“On that note, I really should push an update to the ledger—”

“You sit yourself right there! It’s my turn!”

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my writing, you can check it out here and here <3

#writeblr #trans author #furry fiction #tf #transformation #identity death #renamon #renamon oc #indie author #robot furry #robot oc #my writing #mrow oc: posie #mrow sona: anodyne #short story

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angelosearch · 7 months ago

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Be brave.

Some Chaos Theory art I commissioned from @thornart (Insta: thorlincorn)

I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS!!! It was such a cool process bringing an iconic scene from my alternate timeline FFVIII fic to life! This scene is from the end of Part 3: Spontaneous Order | Trust Falls if you are curious why Rinoa is in a Galbadian soldier uniform! The scene itself is under the cut!

Thank you to thornart for this amazing work!! I knew I wanted to commission something special when I completed Chaos Theory and then I saw your Locked Tomb fan art and... well, here we are!

The building began to shake violently. There was the distinct sound of engines activating.

They were digging out the drill.

“Come on!” Squall yelled to Rinoa as he started up the stairs again.

A mass of Moombas and prisoners was following them again. At this point, the momentum of the escapees was too great—soldiers were being swept up and consumed by the wave.

The Spiral was designed so in the event of a catastrophic security failure, the drill could raise the building up high enough to prevent escape.

The drill was already a few stories high when Rinoa and Squall arrived on the top of the north drill. Massive drill structures rotated aggressively, kicking up a nearly opaque cloud of dust and expelling an earsplitting whirring.

Squall was horrified to realize that unburying the drill did nothing to deter escape. Dozens of desperate and broken prisoners sentenced to life in D-District prison tossed their bodies off the platform and into the unknown waiting for them on the other end of the dust cloud—if their bodies didn’t get caught on the drills.

“What do we do?” Rinoa screamed over the grating sound of the twisting drills.

Squall looked back at the entrance they had just come out of. It was swarmed with bodies trying to get their shot at freedom, whether that freedom be in this life or another. They were not going to get back down there.

“Do you have any float spells?” Squall called out.

“A few.”

“Rinoa, we have to jump,” Squall couldn’t see much, but he could see the panic wash over Rinoa’s face. “We have to jump before we get any higher.”

She shook her head several times.

“We don’t have a choice. Just cast float, it might break our fall.”

“IT MIGHT?!”

Squall walked to the edge of the platform. Rinoa walked up beside him, looked over, and cried.

“I can’t, I can’t!”

Through the cyclone of dirt, Squall could just barely see the ground, which was getting further and further with every second. He looked over at Rinoa, who had turned away and was holding herself, terrified.

In the last decade of his life, his only method of fighting fear was ignoring the feeling and pushing forward anyway. But it wasn’t always that way. He was always a fearful little kid. He cried, he hid, he avoided. Ellone was the only person who could get him to stare down what he was afraid of. She would stand by his side and remind him he could do it. Back then, her love was the sword he used to keep the demons at bay.

Squall removed his gloves, walked up to Rinoa, and offered her his hand.

She looked at him with apprehension.

“When I used to get scared… Ellone always held my hand. You can do this, Rinoa. We’ll do this… together.”

Rinoa bit her lip. She squinted her eyes shut and slapped her hand into Squall’s.

“Okay…”

Squall walked them carefully back to the ledge. He did not like how high up they were now, but they had no options.

“Alright, on the count of three, we’re going to jump, and once we’re in the air, you need to cast float, okay?”

Rinoa did not open her eyes but fiercely nodded her head.

Squall gripped tightly on Rinoa’s hand. He found himself squeezing his eyes shut as well.

“One, two, three…!”

Be brave.

The two teens leaped from the Spiral and disappeared into the veil of sand.

#ffviii chaos theory #ffviii #rinoa heartilly #squall leonhart #squinoa #ffviii fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction

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captainremmington-13 · 1 year ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖊𝖓

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building except for Brio.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: swearing, mentions of scars, death, and pain, injury, kissing, overall angst

A/N: fun fact: the beginning part (which is a dream) is based off a dream i had the other day where i was chasing Luke thru the woods lmaooo

“This isn’t fair!” you yelled, your legs screaming in protest as you picked up your pace.

Luke laughed loudly, also increasing his speed. The dirt trail meant that with each step, he kicked up dust, effectively making your eyes water.

“I thought you said you could catch me, angel,” he called out tauntingly. “What happened to all your confidence?”

“Fuck you!” you said with a fake angry tone. “You’re going too fast, you know you’re better at running than me, can you at least slow down a little?”

This just made Luke laugh harder, and he glanced over his shoulder to give you a grin.

Gods, he made you feel so many things.

“What, you can’t handle the challenge and need me to make it easier for you so you can win?” he asked teasingly.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you huffed, trying to hide the fact that you were completely winded.

“Sure, whatever you say, baby,” Luke said, clearly not convinced. You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, but couldn’t prevent yourself from smiling. You really did love playfully bantering with him.

Channeling all of your remaining energy, you charged towards your boyfriend. You leapt onto his back, making him yelp in surprise.

“What in Hades?” he asked, bewildered. You just smiled, resting your chin on his shoulder as he hooked his arms under your thighs. “Has my lovely girlfriend been possessed by a gremlin or something?”

You gasped dramatically. “How dare you assume such an awful thing, Castellan?” You slung your arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling of your bare skin on his.

Luke turned his head to peck you on the cheek. “I know, I know, I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

You giggled, holding onto him tighter. “Yeah, you are.”

He set you down gently, and turned to face you. His cheeks were slightly flushed from being relentlessly chased by you through the woods, but other than that, he didn’t seem tired at all. Perks of being the son of the messenger god, apparently.

You sighed, looking up at him adoringly. “This isn’t fair,” you said once again.

Luke’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been running for so long and you still look perfect. In comparison, I probably look about as good as Medusa with a bad case of bead-head.”

Luke scoffed. “That’s so far from true. You look as pretty as ever.”

Before you could protest, he wrapped one of his large hands around the back of your neck gently, connecting his lips with yours. You melted into the kiss, reaching up to grip his strong shoulders. Thankfully, you were deep enough in the woods that it was unlikely that any other campers would see your intimate moment. You never did anything quite this intense while in the presence of others, as you didn’t want to get lectured by Chiron and Mr. D.

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment. You were completely at peace…

Until Luke let out a blood-curling scream.

When you opened your eyes, you saw him being dragged away by Ladon, the dragon’s claws creating gruesome wounds in his skin.

“No!” you shrieked, immediately flying after him. But before you could get close enough, one of Ladon’s heads opened its mouth and released a gust of fire, setting your body ablaze.

You plummeted to the ground, helpless as you watched your boyfriend be ripped to pieces by a monster.

You kept falling for what seemed like an eternity, bracing yourself for the bone-shattering impact that you knew was to come.

When your body finally hit the ground, everything faded all at once.

“She’s waking up! Someone get Brio or Will, quickly!”

“Keep your voice down, you’re gonna scare her! You know how dangerous startling her can be!“

“You keep your voice down, you’re the one shouting-“

“Everyone, shut up!”

You groaned quietly, the noises surrounding you immediately giving you a headache. As you slowly regained consciousness, a searing pain bloomed in your abdomen, making you cry out. Your eyes snapped open, and you saw Brio Olarei, a son of Apollo, standing over you with bandages in his hand.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I need to lift up your shirt to re-wrap your stomach. You got a pretty nasty cut, and your ribs were cracked.”

“Great,” you muttered. “What else?”

“Well,” Brio began slowly. “You’ve been out for almost four days.”

You blinked. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“No, I’m not,” Brio said, removing the old bandages from your torso. “Teleporting all the way from the west coast to the east drained you enormously.”

You suddenly felt a wave of nausea overtake you, realizing that your encounter with Ladon and the Hesperides hadn’t been a dream.

You began to sob, not caring that you were in the presence of the others who worked in the infirmary.

You had failed your mission.

But even worse, you had failed Luke.

Brio did his best to calm you down, but nothing really worked. Tears kept spilling down your cheeks, and you didn’t even try to stop them. He applied a salve to your wounds that helped ease the pain, and re-wrapped them quickly.

“I’ll do anything I can to help you with your recovery,” the healer said warmly. “You’ll need to stay in the infirmary for another few days to make sure your injuries don’t get worse.”

You avoided his gaze, not caring to respond to his words. Instead, you asked,

“Where’s my boyfriend?”

Brio swallowed. “He’s fine. He was in rough shape when we found you two at the border, but he made a quicker recovery than expected. He got released from the infirmary last night, but he refused to leave. We had to have him forcibly removed because it’s really busy in here, and even then, he still insisted on waiting outside of the building-“

As if on cue, none other than Luke Castellan burst through the wooden doors of the building. Nobody really tried to stop him as he rushed over to you, kneeling at your beside. His pretty brown eyes swarmed with tears, and you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping at all.

But the most startling thing you observed was the angry red scar on the right side of his face.

“Oh, Luke…” you whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. Luke cringed slightly, but allowed you to touch him regardless.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “It’ll heal up. But it won’t ever fully fade.”

“Oh, Luke, I am so sorry-“

“It’s not your fault, angel. What’s important is that we’re both okay.”

You took his hand, rubbing circles on his palm with your thumb. “For a moment, I was worried that you…you were dea-“

“I know,” he cut in. “I was worried sick about you too. Fuck, I even prayed to Apollo, begging him to aid you in your recovery.”

You sighed. You knew that if Luke went as far as praying to the gods, he really was concerned.

“Brio said that I’ll be fine. I just…need more recovery time than you did. Not only did I sustain injuries from the fight, but the teleportation also did quite a number on my body.“

Luke ran a hand through your hair, caressing the top of your head. “I wish it hadn’t affected you so badly, but I’m eternally grateful that you did what you did. You saved our lives.” He stood up, to lean down and place a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my hero.”

You smiled weakly. “You’re more of a hero than I’ll ever be.”

“Nonsense,” Luke said, shaking his head. “You were so brave, taking on Ladon like that while you were seriously injured.”

“I wouldn’t call it bravery,” you replied. “I’d call it determination to keep you safe.”

He sighed. “Either way, I’m just so relieved you’re gonna be okay.” He took a deep breath, looking down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had lost you…”

You reached up to wipe a stray tear that began running down his cheek. “I have no doubt that you would tear the world apart. You probably would’ve marched down to the Underworld and demanded Hades to give me back, just like Orpheus.”

Luke laughed quietly. “I would’ve moved mountains to reunite with you, my angel.”

You hummed appreciatively, closing your eyes once more. You felt drained, despite only having been awake for a handful of minutes.

Luke called Brio over, who handed you a bottle of water and a small pill.

“This will help you sleep,” Brio explained, helping you sit up slowly. You whimpered as your ribs screamed in protest at the movement. Luke squeezed your hand reassuringly, promising that the searing pain would subside soon.

You swallowed the pill and took a few sips of water. The son of Apollo turned to look at Luke.

“If you want to stay at her bedside, that’s fine. Just don’t get in the way of any of the healers and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Luke said impatiently. “I won’t cause any trouble, I swear.”

A son of Hermes promising he wouldn’t cause trouble would normally raise some red flags, but in a situation as serious as this, he clearly meant what he’d said.

Brio gave you one last look before walking away, and you swore you could see pity in his eyes. You despised pity, it made you feel weak and stupid, which you knew you weren’t.

Luke pulled up a chair and sat next to your bed. He immediately laced his fingers with yours. “Is there anything I can get you, angel?”

You thought for a moment. “Yeah. Can you get me my stuffed bat from Cabin 11?”

Luke smiled. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

When he returned a couple minutes later, you were barely awake. The medicine had kicked in, and all you wanted was sleep.

Luke placed the stuffie in your arms, and draped the infirmary bed’s comforter over your body. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re fully healed.”

You frowned. “But you have duties as head counselor.”

“Fuck that,” Luke said dismissively. “You’re more important. Chris can take over for me.”

You sighed. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

“Right here.”

“Luke-“

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly. “After what happened at the Garden, I swore to myself that I’d never let you out of my sight ever again.”

Knowing you couldn’t persuade him to change his mind, you nodded. Clutching your stuffed animal to your chest, you let your eyes fall shut. Luke still had a tight hold on your hand. It seemed like he believed if he let go of you, he’d lose you forever.

With your beloved by your side and the medicine in your bloodstream, you were able to drift off into a peaceful state of rest.

________________________________________________

After three long days, Brio finally deemed you recovered. Well, at least recovered enough to leave the infirmary and start sleeping in Cabin 11 again.

You were instructed to take it extremely easy. No sparring, no archery, nothing that was even remotely physically taxing. You were also told to apply a healing salve nightly on the long cut Ladon had given you. You didn’t even remember getting scratched by him, but you figured it had happened right as you teleported away.

At least the poison hadn’t spread too far throughout your skin. Otherwise, you probably wouldn’t have survived.

The scar, which was still an angry shade of red, went from your left hip across your torso to the right side of your neck. It was ugly and quite gruesome, and every time you looked in a mirror, you almost burst into tears.

You felt like you’d taken several steps backwards in your progression as a person. You felt depressed and angry, your hatred for the Olympians growing with every day that passed.

And being so fragile frustrated you greatly. Not being able to participate in the daily camp activities or practice your fighting put you on edge. The pitiful glances the other campers constantly threw your way made it even worse. It became so hard for you to control your temper that at some point, you stopped leaving Cabin 11 except for meals and to shower. Whenever you were out and about, you had to refrain from snapping at every person who tried to talk to you. Even your closer friends, like Chris and Annabeth, seemed nervous around you, not wanting to get on your nerves.

Luke was the only one you let your guard down with. There were even times where you refused to speak to anyone else but him.

You suspected that you were trauma-bonded to each other. Every time Luke wasn’t by your side, you felt terrified. You worried that he’d suddenly be ripped away from you, and you’d be powerless to stop it, just like the nightmare you’d had just before waking up in the infirmary.

If you thought Luke was protective of you before, you had no words to describe what he was now.

At times, he felt like your personal bodyguard. If someone even looked at you funny, he’d place a hand on the hilt of his sword and glare at them until they practically ran away. He almost always had a strong arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, guiding you to wherever you needed or wanted to go. He doted on you as if you were a princess, opening doors for you and taking over any chores you were assigned.

“Let me handle it, angel,” he would say, giving you an affectionate pat on the head.

But even though he was sweet and gentle with you, he became more withdrawn with everyone else.

You always knew he had some anger issues, but had managed to keep them suppressed most of the time. However, ever since he’d been released from the infirmary, it didn’t seem like he cared about keeping them at bay.

Just like you, he was furious at all of the gods, especially Hermes.

He was still polite, but he had adopted a cold, less-than-friendly demeanor. He followed through with his duties as a camp counselor, but was much less patient with the other demigods. His voice always seemed to have a hint of bitterness in it. The scar that ran down the right side of his handsome face made him even more intimidating.

Sometimes, he seemed like a completely different person.

But with you, he was still Luke. Your Luke.

And you hoped more than anything that he’d stay that way.

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @have-a-nice-day-k

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments!!!

The next chapter will take place months after the quest occurred…

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo series #rick riordan #thanatos #demigods #angst #riordanverse

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allprocarpetsteamers · 1 year ago

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Breathe Easy: The Importance Of Air Duct Cleaning In Las Vegas

Are you breathing easy in Las Vegas? The air around us is crucial to our health and well-being, yet it's often overlooked. In this bustling city of lights, ensuring the quality of the air we breathe is essential. Join us as we delve into the world of air duct cleaning and discover why it's a game-changer for your indoor environment. Let's explore how clean Air Duct Cleaning Las Vegas home or business!

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Don't wait until poor indoor air quality affects your health or increases energy bills. Take proactive steps to ensure your HVAC system runs efficiently by scheduling regular air duct cleaning with trusted professionals. Your lungs—and wallet—will thank you!

#Air Duct Cleaning Las Vegas

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zelphin124 · 6 months ago

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Beyond The Bound Pages: Homer

Chapter 1: What it Means to be Abandoned

This is a new series I am writing about an isekai going into Homer's works. Featuring Saga: a gal who somehow has to survive in the Greek world on Odysseus ship. This will be fun. But first... we got to get there. Masterpost [Start] -> Chapter 2

~o0o~

The sweet smell of addicting, artificial strawberries filled the air, correlating with the dust of the paved road. The remnants of dust from graffiti spray paint lingered in the air, forcing a cough from those nearby. It smelled better than the taste it left in the air, and this particular paint stuck to the skin when sprayed. It didn’t help when it mixed with the humidity of the area.

The woman holding the can took a step back on the two stairs she was standing on, looking at the edge of the wall. To her right, the stairs escalated to another dirt road above. A building arch overlaid most of the stairway. The walls were jagged and uneven on the sides, leading to perfect spots to leave a short message, which was her intention. Behind her was a caged door in a tan brick building, which one of her companions was trying to open. A cobbled pathway was carefully crafted and abandoned to her left, stretching in like a narrow balcony that overlooked the undertones of the abandoned city. The only thing preventing an immediate dropoff was a round, stone wall half a human’s size. It was uneven in its coverage and had breaks in its stretch when it met stairs leading down to the city's lower levels, but it could keep anyone from falling off accidentally.

Random wires and pipes were strung up and across the buildings. It didn’t help that they had rusted over time from the prevalent rainfall. The sky was clear and bright, with only a few clouds to account for the mass water amid the air. The view from this specific road overlooked the rest of the city, showcasing its deep, interwoven roads and vertical levels. Whoever built the city was skilled in using the hills to their advantage, having crooked windows within the houses peek over the rest of the roofs. It wasn’t a largely abandoned town; one could see the desert hilltops on the edge of the city, showing off its cliffs and small, green bushes that were uncommon enough to be considered a rarity. There was a clear distinction in the various houses: who was rich and who was poor. The rich lived on the upper levels, and the poor lived on the bottom areas of the city, having laundry lines stretched out from roof to roof in the compacted area, versus the rich obtaining extra coverage and safety from potential break-ins.

However, no one lived in the city anymore. It didn’t matter to the woman why everyone had left, it only mattered that it was a great place to send a message and collect forgotten loot.

Another woman sat on the round barrier near the cobbled road. She swung her feet back and forth, not paying attention to her untied shoelaces that wrapped around her ankles. Her dry, blonde hair was pinned back into a beanie. “Any luck, Zack?” She stuck her tongue out, tracing the dirt on her face. She was good at playing the act of a gang leader with the way she dressed. Her black leather jacket and brown shirt were torn and tattered, along with her ripped loose jeans. She wore bike gloves that did not go with her outfit well, but she always argued it was cool. Scars crossed her face and arms like she was attacked by a bear, but her story of how she got the scars changed every time someone asked her about it.

The man behind the woman with the spray bottle turned around, adjusting his sunglasses. “I don’t think there’s going to be anything inside here, Isabella.” Zack dusted off his own gloves before he did the same to his white T-shirt. His curly brown hair always got in the way of his eyesight, forcing him to pin it up above his head. He was encouraged to get a haircut but insisted he wanted to create braids with his hair once it grew to the correct length. The hiking boots he wore were tight around his ankles, forcing him to make large steps with each foot movement. He had trouble walking anyway with how unnaturally tall he was. Long, baggy black pants hung from his waist covering his ankles. His voice was harsh and raspy as if he just inhaled the dust of a dirt road. “The people of Craco made sure to take their valuables.”

Isabella leaned back on the balcony barrier, grunting with dissatisfaction, she was short, but that didn’t make her presence any more comforting. She had a motto of sticking together like a family, but her hypocrisy was exhibited through her actions. “Saga,” she turned to the woman with the spray paint. “You’ve been staring at that wall for too long. Make yourself useful!”

The woman turned, her long, strawberry-blonde hair curled gently out of her large bun. It would fall to her knees if she let it loose. She was new to the gang, so her hair wasn’t as tattered and dry as the rest of them. It was silky and well-taken care of. Her hazel eyes reflected the setting sun, and she had yet to receive the tattoo on her left cheek of the gang’s symbol. If it were up to her, she would’ve worn a white blouse with a forest green skirt that stretched to her knees, but the uniform of the gang consisted of white and brown T-shirts with leather jackets, tattered work pants, and laced shoes. She was covered in dirt and spray paint, but couldn’t care enough to tidy herself up. Her chest was rather flat, and her body figure was rather square. She gave off tomboy vibes, and her fists were wrapped in bandages from the fights she got in. She cleared her voice, trying to sound tougher than she was. “I’d have to break up the message.”

Isabella whipped her head around to the south, narrowing her eyes as she heard distant footsteps. “We need to hurry up and catch up with the others. The city is abandoned, but the police will look for people like us here.” Her feet slammed onto the cobblestone as she wiped her face. The scars wrinkled with her disgusted stare. “Zack, forget the door. We will get the loot some other time. Help Saga with the message.”

“Bellosi mafia di Isabella o,” Zack dropped his tools and walked across the stairs. He leaned his hand on the wall close to where Saga was staring at, towering over her. He was at least a foot taller than her, but he didn’t carry himself with the confidence his height should have brought him. His breath was sour like rotten eggs as he spoke. “Need help spelling that, champ?”

“No.” Saga turned to face him, not flinching out of his intimidation. She bit her tongue in an attempt to not smell his breath. “We aren’t a mafia. It’s not proper Italian.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Isabella kicked a rock down one of the stairpaths, chipping the stones of the road. “It’s a slogan, one that will establish us as a soon-to-be mafia. Remember, act the part until it becomes reality, right?”

Saga flattened her lips and nodded.

“You don’t even know Italian, so it would be best if you kept your mouth shut and followed blindly,” the gang leader continued. “Write the phrase, then let’s ditch.”

“You said we were family,” Saga argued. “Family should hear each other out.”

A hoarse laugh echoed throughout the city as it fled from Zack’s lips. He bent over, resting his back on the wall as he wheezed. His eyes almost bulged out of his skull as if what Saga had said was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

Isabella did not have the same reaction. She took off her beanie and ran her hand through her hair. “I meant we were a family as in we would stick together,” she tilted her head sideways, chewing on something: weed, if Saga had to guess. “You have to trust me on this, I don’t have time to explain. We don’t ditch each other, but that doesn’t mean I take care of you to think, understood?”

Saga grunted and shook the can in her hand with aggression. She double-checked its inky black color before writing the message on the wall. She sprayed it enough to release its stench in the air, forcing Zack to retreat from the wall as he snuffled a few coughs.

He left Saga’s peripheral vision and rummaged through his duffle bag, clanging the tools together as if they were trash. Saga could tell he was clumsy with them because of the various scraping noises she heard, rather than the usual shuffling pitches.

Saga heard a door unlatch behind her. “Really, Zack?” Isabella snapped. “Even Omar could’ve done a better job than this.”

“I loosened it for you,” Zack argued. He cursed under his breath as he followed Isabella into the small room, grabbing a few nails and other supplies they could find in the forsaken metropolis of Italy.

Saga made haste with painting the message on the wall, covering her face with her arm from the smell and smoke the spray paint let off. The cloud it produced stuck to her skin, and every few seconds she paused to itch the crusted dust off her body. The sun's rays only made the paint on her skin burn. She was expected to endure it, for as Isabella said: “The consequences of breaking the law would be much worse than simple burns on the skin.”

Saga let out a disgruntled cough as she finished the graffiti, waving her hand in front of her face to get rid of the remaining dust. The humidity only got more intense the more the setting sun beat on Saga’s skin. She took a step back, careful to not trip on the uneven carved stones on the stairs. To her, the message made no sense, and it was hard to decipher. Telling herself repeatedly it was for a purpose she didn’t understand yet felt folly. Her gaze traversed to the gray door next to the wall she mutilated. It appeared slammed shut, but perhaps it had better loot hiding behind it.

The gang had been searching for scraps all day, and their group in particular had collected nothing. The one sapphire necklace they did find was dropped by Zack through an unreachable crack in the sewage system. Saga wasn’t informed of what the gang was specifically seeking in these ruins, but she assumed it was the leftover valuables left by the former inhabitants. They wanted to claim their share of the treasure within the rubble before the government stole it from the people; at least, that was Zack’s explanation of the situation.

The woman’s hands ruffled through Zack’s bag, pulling out a tool she knew not the name of. She observed the carvings and markings on it before the structure itself. It had a flat edge that could fit under a small opening and a stronger, round base to push an opposing force open like a lever. She watched Zack use it on a few other doors throughout the city, mostly accounting for his failure to open them. Despite being built like a giant, he seemed to have trouble with the nitty gritty tasks, which Isabella foolishly assigned him to. Omar advised them to switch roles, but Isabella refused to do the work herself.

Fortunately, Saga had a way of being crafty and self-sufficient even before she joined the group. She carefully slid the flat part of the tool under the solid gray door, ignoring the murmuring of her compatriots behind the chained door. She spanned her gaze across the door hinges; it was the perfect design to lift the door and let it fall forward. Resting her foot and hands on the tool, she inhaled sharply before using precise force to press down.

The door was promptly lifted off its hinges, its weight carrying itself to the floor. It slammed on the bricks, sending a rustled echo through the newly revealed room. The sound bounced across the walls and roads, causing Saga to wince as it slowly died out.

The room itself had no light. There was a ladder to the right to get on top of the tiled roof. The house was small and square, with a hard floor and a table at the edge of its wall. There was one thing on the table: a book.

Saga discarded the tool to the side before bending over to step into the cube. She searched the floor for anything to salvage but came out empty-handed. The door had landed on most of the floor; perhaps it squished whatever was left in the house. She straightened her back and stumbled over to the table. She first eyed the silver in the nails and started to peel them out. They could be smelted for cash. However, as she disassembled the table for its valuable components, her curiosity grew about the book on top of it.

She paused her theft and stared at the book. Saga was not one to talk to herself in her own head and her thoughts were very few, just as Isabella had instructed her. However, her mind raced when she gave in to the temptation and picked up the book, blowing and wiping the dust off its cover.

Homer, the title read. Iliad and Odyssey. It detailed it was a special edition with various events between the two books, and its size attested to the claim. The ridges of the book were ancient, and the spine presented the book’s contents dated back to well over two thousand years.

Saga held the book in one hand, flipping it back and forth in her hands. She knew a studio that would pay good money for something old like it. Her face grimaced at the thought and memory that accompanied the studio. Her fists clenched.

They were the reason she was here.

“What part about sticking together do you not understand?” Zack’s rustic voice filled her ears as the chained door slammed behind him. “That sound was too loud, it could’ve given away our position.” A rough grip tightened on Saga’s shoulder.

Saga jumped back, snuffing a surprised scream. She readied her left fist into a punching position whilst her right held the book close to her chest. She grunted and sighed when her heart rate slowed down and her brain registered it was just Zack. Roughly, she forced his hand off of her shoulder.

Zack hung his tongue out from his mouth like a dog. “Cat got your tongue, champ?”

“She is a woman of few words, Zack.” Isabella came from behind Zack, shoving a large, marble tabletop into his chest. There was no sign of care from her as Zack barely caught the object and stumbled out of the room. She approached gracefully and shot a disapproving glare at Saga. “Or, you are now. Did you find anything?”

Saga adjusted her stance, leaning on her hip as she carelessly handed the old book to her leader, her eyes slanted and locked on the door now on the floor. Adjusting the bandages on her wrists, Saga took steps to leave the room.

She was stopped. “Nah, nah, nah,” Isabella stuck out her arm to block her path, not taking her eyes off the book. “You just found this here, lying around in the open?”

Saga flattened her face and nodded, gesturing to the broken table.

Isabella’s eyes shined like she was looking in her own reflection. A crooked smirk captured her lips. “Nice work, champ, this will make us a great buck. Perhaps this will pay for my–”

“Our.” Saga’s words were harsh and curt. “I found it.”

There was a pause as Isabella looked up to meet Saga’s gaze. She chuckled nervously. “Relax, champ,” her tone was gleeful and fibberful. “Of course it’s ours, the money goes to the family, no? The beautiful mafia of Isabella,” she tucked the book under her arm and gestured to the exit. “This will get us on the right track to that glorious vision.”

Isabella had a whole lot of vision but little action to achieve it from Saga’s point of view. Usually, Saga would endure the blissful, nihilistic aura she emitted, but it was extra sour when put in the mix with Zack’s cocky stupidity. She once had that same mindset, but it was something that long escaped her. If she still had that outlook on life, she wouldn’t be trussing a to-be mafia gang.

Saga scrambled out of the room and assisted Zack in picking up his tools, eyeing the sunset that besmeared the sky a glorious haze of orange and pink. Perhaps luck was on their side after all; they had gathered valuables all at the last minute.

“I see why this was left behind,” Saga glanced to see Isabella speaking as she flipped through the pages of Homer. “Imagine reading this textbook, it’s one of those where you have to know background knowledge to understand it.”

“Someone is insane enough to like it,” Zack hoisted the bag of tools and bag of stolen goods up both his shoulders. “It’ll sell just like the rest of these. I bet I’ll get a sweet gun out of this marbled top–”

“We start small, remember to meet up on the outside of the city,” Isabella pointed to the hill in view. “You remember the path, Zack, right?”

“Please, you think I would get lost in a simple maze like this?” Zack smirked wildly and turned south on the cobbled road. He stumbled before he caught himself, reminding himself to take big steps. “We head down.”

Saga rested her back on the wall she graffitied, her feet pressing against the irregular curves in the steps. Her arms were crossed around her chest before she moved them to adjust her bun. She’d have to cut her hair soon as it was getting difficult to pin it up.

The gang shuffled to make a move on before Zack stopped in the middle of the path, blocking Isabella’s way. “The hell are you–”

“Mani in alto dove posso vederli.”

Zack’s hands went up slowly, resting on his head as his shoulders drooped. Isabella also stopped in her tracks as she backed up, slowly making her way to Saga.

“Ehi! Non muoverti, o spareremo! Sei in arresto!”

“Merda,” Isabella hissed, turning to face Saga. “It’s the police.”

Saga’s eyes widened. She put her hands up as Zack clumsily backed up the alleyway toward the stairs. Once he was out of the way, four policemen came into view. They had their guns drawn as they blocked the road exit. They muttered a few things in Italian that Saga couldn’t understand before gesturing to Zack to get on his knees and release the bags from his possession.

Saga glanced at Isabella in the corner of her eye. She saw her leader’s eyes plotting, and it never ended well for anyone else when she did so. She bent over as if she was about to get on her knees as well, but her eyes steadily remained on the enforcer’s hands.

Saga’s heart dropped, and she found it difficult to breathe. She stared at the cop approaching her, unsure what to do but to follow suit. Immediate regret overflowed in her heart; this wasn’t what she thought would happen.

THUNK!

Zack waited for the police to put his gun down and pull out his cuffs before socking him in the throat. He crushed the other gun in the second police’s hands before landing a punch across his face. He ditched his tool bag, grabbed the stolen goods duffle bag, and jumped off of the balcony into a nearby stairway, leading into the maze of the abandoned city below.

The other cops turned their attention to the noise, giving enough time for Isabella to shove the book into Saga’s hands before taking off up the stairs. She hid behind the wall as one of the cops shot at her, causing a few of the old stones to fall off the arch. It wouldn’t be long before the building collapsed, blocking the path.

A split second passed as Saga processed her comrades, who were ditching her. It was followed by another awkward second of eye contact with the four police, eyeing the book in her hand. Instinct grabbed her by the throat and forced her into action. She flung her fists into the closest cop’s stomach, shoving him into the balcony barrier before dashing north down the cobbled road. Her heart raced as she ran for her life, diving behind another wall as shots were fired.

“Torna qui!” The police hollered, two of them pursuing Saga as they fired more rounds of their revolvers in her direction. They sprinted after her on foot, following the cobbled path.

Saga bolted from behind the wall and further down the path, the rugged walls and landscape of the city blurring as she focused on her exit. Long shadows were cast by the setting sun, showing the city’s weathering facades. It would be difficult to find sturdy things to climb on with the city in its rusted, crumbling state. She shoved the book down her shirt, hoping it would stay as she used her arms to run. She figured the cobbled path would end soon, forcing her to use an alternate route of escape.

By the time the police also reached the end of the path, they had run out of bullets. They searched around frantically before spotting their target climbing up the pipes and uneven walls. One of them admitted he was too fat to climb after before resulting in chopping at the pipe. The other proceeded to climb up after Saga, slowly gaining on her.

Saga felt the pipe become more unstable by the minute. Her heart raced as adrenaline kicked in. She spanned her gaze around the area frantically, spotting a roof close by. She grabbed the edge of the window above her before jumping to the tiled roof, breaking into a run once more.

The other police were not far behind her. He shouted at her as he gained on her, jumping from roof to roof as she followed. His steps were a lot more clangorous than Saga’s, provoking the ruins to collapse after he flew across them. Wherever Saga slid and crumpled tiles under her feet, the police crushed with his, leaving nothing but dust.

Under different circumstances, Saga would’ve sat to enjoy the sunset from the height she was at, taking in the beautiful scenery of the abandoned city. Saga used her ears to try and see if her comrades were nearby, but there were no signs of them anywhere. She jumped from roof to roof, occasionally attempting her luck at bouncing off different walls, hoping to get an advantage on her pursuers. She dared fate and looked behind her.

One of the cops was following their path on the ground, panting heavily as he took turns down alleyways and ran up and down various stairs. The leaner cop was right on her tail, catching up with great speed as if he had experience running across rooftops.

The cop on the roof was close enough to grab her jacket. He reached for her, stumbling over his feet as he lunged for her. Saga had little time to think as she dodged his grasp, sliding down another tiled roof before leaping to another.

She fell short. Saga gripped onto the edge of the tower, spotting a rusted bell at the top of the observatory. Her hands ached with pain as they dug into the sandstone. She moved her hands up quickly, grabbed onto the ledge, and barely managed to pull herself onto the floor below the bell. She gasped for breath, coughing out the dust that entered her lungs.

The police stopped on the previous roof, looking up at the tower. His eyes were wide as if he was astonished she made it. He muttered something into his communication device, a phrase in Italian Saga couldn’t understand.

Saga stood, pain ceasing everything in her body. She crumpled on her hip before straightening her back again, flipping off the cop with both fingers as she caught her breath. Her bun was undone, which let her long hair fall to her sides beautifully.

The sight of the sunset gleaming on Saga standing in the tower with her long hair out and two middle fingers up didn’t last long. There was an eerie creak before a loud crack. Saga felt the floor give way, sending her down the tower. She let out a pitiful scream, crashing into the ladder and stairs, tumbling over and over again as everything scratched and bruised her face. Her attempts at grabbing onto anything were futile, and it wasn’t long until she hit the base of the tower at the lowest level. Hitting her head, everything went black.

#greek mythology #epic the musical #odyssey #iliad #greek gods #writing #chapter #fanfic #epic: the musical #Homer #Saga (greek)

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legendsofmyriad · 2 months ago

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Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 39: Temporal

Chapter 38 | Chapter 40

Arc One Masterlist

-- -- -- -- --

Clearing the gap between the car door and the uneven cobbles in one confident hop, Alek welcomed the cover of Azuris’s streets. Out in the dunes and outer ridges of Eternity, nothing abated that baking heat. The capital at least provided some protection and comfort, and after the scorching return journey, he silently thanked the recycled wind flow cooling the sweat on his brow.

Military personnel and numerous senior members of the ruling government flocked the avenue, splayed trees providing adequate shade from the beating afternoon sun and the half-broken buildings supported with netting to prevent more mortar from falling. At the double slam of the vehicle doors, every face shot to their position, eager gazes standing by for some indication of success or failure.

“What are you all gawking at?” Rhena called, undeterred by their rapt attention. “Does it look like we failed?” At her triumphant laugh, the stares eased into relief, consoled smiles exchanged and victorious cheers spreading through the younger recruits until barked orders from their superiors jarred them into action.

Mere seconds separated the moment between Rhena spotting Cas and landing into her waiting embrace, squealing at the elated spin before arriving on her feet again. Tight arms held her close. “You haven’t twirled me round like that in a while,” she jested. “Maybe I should go on dangerous adventures more often.”

“Don’t even joke,” Cas warned her, retracting enough to encourage her to tilt her chin. She examined her freckled skin, sweeping aside red, coiled curls to check for signs of injury.

“Stop fussing, I’m okay. The plan worked. Those buzzing bastards are gone.”

Cas cradled her in loving hands and pressed her lips to her sandy forehead. “Let me fuss,” she muttered. “I was worried.”

“I always come back,” Rhena assured her. “You know that.”

“This was different. There were so many things that might have backfired. You could have been hurt or worse.”

“You worry way too much.” Lifting to her tiptoes, Rhena pulled her in for a kiss. “See. I’m perfectly fine.” To further prove her point, she presented a toothy beam that earned her a fond smile in reply.

The hours of concocting dire, distressing situations ebbed at Rhena’s playful spirit. Cas would never dream of hampering her adventures, but it didn’t lessen the worry every time she suggested another perilous feat. And this, the endless stream of danger over the past couple of days, revived the uncertainty and imminent threat from the civil conflict.

“I see that now,” she said reflectively. Beyond the mass of military uniforms, Alek digressed from the stationary vehicle and closer to the hubbub, hands stuffed into his baggy trouser pockets and innocent eyes roving over the proceedings as troops dispersed to release the concerned citizens from the shelters. “How’s the kid? Doesn’t need medical attention, does he?”

“I checked him over before we got in the car,” Rhena replied. “I think he’s okay. No bleeding, at least. He was real quiet the whole journey. Kept looking out the window like he expected those things to come back. Tried talking to him, but he didn’t seem in the mood.”

Cas wasted no time in dragging him in for a squeezing hug as soon as he was in range. “Are you hurt?” she asked. To her relief, he appeared unharmed, if not despondent.

“Only my pride,” Alek responded sheepishly. “All of this was my fault.”

“Mistakes happen, but you put it right.” Cas dusted a speck of dirt from his eyebrow with the pad of her thumb. “Who is to say something else wouldn’t have woken those creatures up in the future? Your knowledge and your bravery ensured we kept the casualties to a minimum and successfully got rid of them. Remember that, soldier.”

Alek inflated from his slump at being deemed a soldier, especially coming from someone like her. At her precise salute, he returned the gesture with the vigour of a faithful trooper, right fist clenched and striking his left shoulder before bending into the traditional bow. A mage symbol of respect, not a military standard, and a custom that never failed to encourage a slightly higher lift in his chin when he rose.

“That’s the spirit, kid,” Sergeant Darilen chuckled as he joined them, clapping him on the arm. “Commendations on your victory.”

“It was a joint effort, sir,” Alek said. He tidied his posture and tucked his hands at the small of his back, remembering himself as he addressed a superior officer. “I wouldn’t have got anywhere without the help of Cas, Rhena, and your troops.”

Eyebrows arched, Darilen’s grin widened, and he bent his head in concession.

“If I’m required for a debrief, I can have a report written and sent to you,” the mage offered.

“That won’t be necessary,” Darilen assured him. “You were successful, and that is all I need to know. Right now, our focus is on containing the damage and rebuilding.”

Short fingernails plucking at the knot in the cord tied to his wrist, Alek freed the twine and presented his Eventide crystal to the sergeant. The depleted stone dangled and rotated. “On the way back, I was thinking of how I could make up for letting the laycrawlers out,” he explained, “and while I can’t do much, I can offer you this. It’s a little drained, but in time it will heal. Put it in the care of whoever maintains the shield. It should give it a healthy boost.”

Darilen withdrew a step. “While the engineers would have a field day with that kind of technology, I can’t accept such a gift.”

“Sure you can,” Alek said. “If you think it would be of some use in keeping Azuris protected, I want you to take it.”

“Do you not need it for your magic?”

“I’ll get another when I return home.”

Warily, Darilen accepted the gracious offering, turning the surprisingly light crystal over in his palm. He anticipated a spark or an electrical shock, yet all it did was cool his skin.

“You’ve done your people proud, Alek,” the sergeant commended, dropping the translucent stone into his top pocket for safekeeping. “Your kindness will go a long way in defending Azuris for years to come. If you ever wanted to join our military, you know where to find me.”

“I have my studies to complete first, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do,” Darilen said. “Have a safe trip home. And remember us when you’re a fancy mage officer.”

Alek saluted as the sergeant retook his position with his troops, that tiny word spreading hope in his heart. Yes, he thought. Time to go home.

* * *

Sunbeams bounced from the decimated ceiling and covered the mosaic in enduring pools of warmth. On the tiled walls, suspended forest frogs capered from floating timber to motionless leaf pads. Splits in the facade reached the border of the patchwork and chipped many outer tiles, but the overall picture prevailed untouched. Further up, a spread of aquamarine and off-white plates composed alternating motifs above the arched woodland designs.

“Looks like there used to be water running down these passages,” Cas observed as they ascended the alabaster stairs. Natural dips in the floor on either side ran down and met with the symmetrical architecture beneath the bridge. Spiky fronds invaded from the cracks to wave at the sun and drink in the glorious rays.

Scattered about the bedraggled garden, smooth-plumed fowl pruned their lengthy feathers and skipped on the jagged remains of the temple. A few took flight as they wandered by, landing in their nests where squalling fledglings vied for their parents’ attention.

“I wish you could stay longer,” Rhena said, nudging the mage beside her with her elbow. “There are so many places in Azuris you’d love, and you have got to come to a Vector race. A real one. Not those shoddy imitations in Requiem.”

“They’re not that bad,” Cas reasoned.

“They don’t even use proper track techniques and make up their own rules as they go along,” Rhena countered. “It’s an insult.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you wanted to play by the rules.”

“The customs of Vector racing are a sacred tradition. The sport would be nothing without them.”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you insist on a grappling hook as a tactic.”

Rhena made to defend her claim before she encountered the tease in the sunny hazel of Cas’s eyes and the tickled inclination of her head. “In any case, we’re going to miss you, Alek. You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?”

“Course I will,” he assured. “And there’s nothing stopping me from visiting again once I’ve graduated.”

“A fully fledged soldier,” Rhena said, features alight and beaming at his bright prospects.

“If the past few weeks are anything to go by, I think he already is,” Cas asserted.

The side room containing Bartholomew’s personal gateway lay tucked aside from the rest of the magnificent structure where it could neither bother nor hinder the natural flow of the place. Trimmed in accordance with the decoration outside, grimy tiles furnished the floor and mosaic creatures padded the walls. The dust over the windows prevented much of the sunlight from invading, but enough weathered through to ricochet from the mirrored brackets and illuminate the space.

Rhena marvelled for a split second before her innate curiosity refused to remain still for a moment longer. She cleared the three stairs onto the lower tier of the room in an effortless bound and admired the cylindrical glass case in the centre, the floor to ceiling shelves displaying neat lines of trinkets and curios. Cas accompanied her, albeit calmer, appreciating the enthusiasm in Rhena’s questions and letting her mind wander to the worlds these items came from.

At the controls of the gateway jutting from the far wall, Alek mused over the instructions he’d written before departing from Professor Spark’s laboratory and ensured he executed each one carefully before moving to the next step in the list. He flicked between his tablet and the slightly askew control panel, working to decipher the faded keys. Identified and decoded, he prodded at the buttons to select the correct destination on the monitor.

“Will you visit me on Solgarde?” he asked, uncurling from the controls as Cas’s interest sailed to the inactive gateway.

“Just you try to stop us,” she replied.

“There’s so much cool stuff in here,” Rhena enthused, dragging herself from a riveting puzzle box. “How has this place not been ransacked?”

“Protective charms,” Alek answered. “Spotted two as we entered the temple, three more in the gardens, and another outside the room. I noticed a few warning spells too when I first got here, but detached them so no alarms would be raised at the lab.”

Having summoned the strength, the sleepy mechanisms inside the platform clicked from their holdings and into their connectors. After a brief spark and splutter in protest at being woken up, a temperate gleam levitated above the podium.

As the initial rush of electricity eased, Rhena’s excitement waned and her complexion paled.

“Thank you for looking after me,” Alek said. “It was an honour to meet you both. I hope one day to be able to repay your kindness.”

Rhena squeezed him into a tight hug and brought Cas along into the embrace. From the moment Alek wandered into their lives, she had a new soul to show the wonders of her world, an adventure to heed, and she vowed to teach him more about Eternity when he next visited. “Get going or I’ll start tearing up,” she told him, loosening her grip and sniffling.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Cas said as he jogged up to the plinth. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Make it soon, though, okay?” Rhena added.

With a final farewell wave, he sank into the portal light and the mechanism ferried him onto the Starlight Path. The rhythmic thrum decelerated, and the system shut itself down.

Silence trailed in, and Cas contemplated the fascinations of the room. “We should get going if we want to get to Azuris before sundown,” she said, urging her admiration from the antiques. “I did not like the look of those clouds rolling in.”

Rhena made no attempt to move, staring at the empty air where the swirling glow had transported their new friend home moments before. Hands balled into fists and trembling, her chest rose and fell in deep waves.

“Rhee? Are you all right?” Cas asked. “If you’re worried about Alek, he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rhena muttered. “I’m fine.”

The dapple of sweat coating her usually rosy cheeks and jittery flicker of her eyelashes suggested otherwise, and Cas placed herself between the inactive portal and her partner.

At Cas’s pleasant touch to her chin, persuading her to look at her, Rhena jarred back into the quiet side room. “I could hear it again, those whispers when the gateway switched on. Just like at the racetrack. Was only there for a moment, but I swear I heard it.”

“It’s probably the stress catching up with you, sweetpea,” Cas assured her. “Let’s get you home.”

Rhena nodded, but she wasn’t wholly convinced. The acuate murmurs loitered in her ears, words seeking to communicate, yet she understood none of it. They may as well have been the wind.

“How does a hog roast casserole for dinner sound?” Cas offered, guiding her from the office of the long-forgotten professor and out into the listless halls. Outside once more, the dried up courtyard received them with a surge of sunshine. “Oh, and how about some of your favourite chocolate cake from the bakery?”

“Sounds perfect,” Rhena replied, resting her head onto the taller woman’s arm and letting the sunlight of the overgrown garden wash away the haunting whispers.

* * *

In the stillness of Professor Spark’s laboratory, the equipment droned freely, a distant rattle developing from the server units as the gateway shrank into the podium. A few empty mugs lining the surface by the stretch of windows and the desks bearing the weight of opened tomes served as the only signs anybody had been there recently.

Dusting the sand from the creases in his clothing, Alek wheezed into the back of his hand. After months in the dusty, scorching atmosphere of Eternity, he’d almost forgotten what fresh air in his lungs felt like.

“You all right there?” a good-humoured voice came from the double doors beside the ground level bookshelves.

“I’m-” He cleared the rest with a throaty hack and swallowed the bile that rose with it. “Getting used to cleaner air.”

“I take it you’re one of the adventuring students.”

Rubbing at a sore spot on his neck as the rough force of the rasp grated up his throat, he lifted his head to regard the woman who greeted him, taking in the black and white fitted attire usually worn by Sunbreak soldiers when out of their protective gear but still on duty. Only this soldier kept some of her carapace, the material over her abdomen and chest made of lightweight metal.

At the blink of her vivid violet concern, he stuttered into an upright position. “Apologies, Commander Cleaver,” he spluttered. “My name is Alek. Thrulian Academy. Second division. Your speech last year on mage tactics was inspiring.”

“I remember that one,” Lilith mused, her stroll fluid and floating as she neared the accumulation of desks and books. “Your class were quite rambunctious.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t be. I’d had an awfully dull morning and a bit of a challenge did wonders for the tedium.” She tossed the book in her grasp onto the pile with the others. “At ease, soldier. You look like you’ve seen some scrapes.”

Alek relieved his aching shoulders from the rigid stance and flexed his fingers to avoid wringing his hands. “All of my own accidental doing. Citadel training kept me sound, though.”

“A true testament to our teachings, if ever I heard one,” Lilith said. She discerned he was attempting to conceal his fatigue, mind still in battle mode. She understood. It required time and a conscious effort for a soldier’s senses to settle after an ordeal. For the younger ones, their heads took a lot longer to ease, to realise they were out of danger.

“Oh, I should hand this over,” Alek said, fishing in his satchel and plucking out the temporal essence. The energy in the glass vial writhed in flowing tendrils, neither liquid nor gas, but a separate element entirely. Rather like their magic.

The swirls evoked memories of his early discipline at the academy, mastering the basics of spell casting and the thrill the first time he successfully cast a charm. His veins carried his power and connected him with his inner strength, maintaining the feeble glimmer that coiled about his wrist in a wobbly spiral and warmed his skin.

Lilith accepted the vial and held it up to the natural light, the modest viridian pulsation staining her fingertips and burrowing into the spaces between her fingers. “I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble getting this,” she said, depositing the narrow flask into a rack by the console panel.

“Only a trip into a cave system with deadly laycrawlers, accidentally waking them up and setting them loose on Eternity’s capital city where they merged into an enormous creature, and a shaky plan to get them to an empty world so they couldn’t do any more harm.”

Lilith’s lips opened to deliver a meagre ‘what?’, but she all she managed was a drawn out hum. She composed herself enough to make a mental note to have a strict word with Bartholomew later for sending the boy on such a risky mission. “At any rate, you’re back here safely,” she reassured.

While Alek learned much from Eternity and the hospitable people of that sandy world, the prospect of home called now that he was one step nearer to the cool coastal breeze of Mora and the inspiriting magic of Solgarde. “Have Esther and Oscar returned?” he asked.

“Not yet. You’re the first.”

Alek sagged, having hoped to be the last so that he could reunite with his friends.

“Bartholomew is on Delorem with Esther sorting out a spot of trouble, and we haven’t been able to speak with Oscar. Messages and communications aren’t going through, but his tablet is still active.” Tracking the worry on Alek’s features as it spread from his tired eyes to the droop of his lips, Lilith withdrew from the flashing buttons of the console. “I’m sure he’s fine. Professor Bevan has been troubleshooting the problem and thinks it’s something to do with the gateways on Lucarian. It seems they’re too weak to function, which may be impacting on the signal between the lab and Oscar’s tablet.”

“He has a way back though, right?” Alek pressed.

“We’ll get him home,” Lilith promised, her staunch resolve easing the abrupt tension in his posture. “We never leave one of our own behind.”

-- -- -- -- --

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