#bandit x banker

[goob1enerd11]

[meowczafhaye]

Lenny's wonderland - Showdown bandit fanchild AU

here's the wonderland AU of Bella as the Cheshire cat, Lenny as alice and Scarlett as the mad hatter

[realm-sweet-realm]

I’ve read his Banker x Doc story, it’s amazing.

Two short fics on my AO3 now!

Audrey attempts to talk to an introvert (BATDR) ✒️

Gay puppet has existential crisis at midnight (Showdown Bandit) 🤠

[sanjoongie]

𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚠

👢#CallMeDjango Collab with @mingsolo @daemour {Welcome to the Outlaw} & @flurrys-creativity

👢Pairing: Vampire! Outlaw! Yeosang x Bounty/Vampire Hunter! Reader (f)

👢Genre: smut, slight angst (happy ending)

👢Trope: monster/slayer romance, e2l

👢au: western au, vampire au, vampire hunter au, historical au

👢Warnings: mentions of blood, death, biting, all things vampire related

👢Kinks: flirty fighting, shaving is sexy, fang kink, sloppy head (m), blood play, penetrative sex with no barrier

👢Word Count: 5,472 (i apologize for the long word count, i got caught up in the world)

👢Summary: when a particular outlaw draws you to a town on the edge of civilization, you find yourself spiraling into the allure of a vampires wiles

👢Author's Note: we are not commenting on the fact that I swore off cowboy!teez and yet, here we are again. Title and concept inspired by Django lyrics of course~

You step off the steps of the hissing train, ignoring the ticketman’s aid down. Habitually, you checked your duel pistols, but they were still snug in their holsters. You had traveled here to hunt down a bounty. Sunset Outlaw, a new name on the list of outlaws, but still one that was dangerous. 

The town was bustling despite its existence at the edge of civilization. You pursed your lips in thought and moved down the line of the train to retrieve your horse. Once you had your gloved hands tight around Twilight’s reins and you mounted up, you made your way down the main drag. You noted that it was a busy enough town for its own saloon, bank, and even inn. You tied Twilight at the water trough and then made your way inside. 

“Can I have a room?” You inquired to the innkeeper.

She eyed you up and down. The look on her face said that she knew you were trouble but didn’t give a shit--as long as the trouble didn’t happen in her inn. “It’s a dollar for the night. Twenty-five cents more if you want hot water, but you have to go to the pump yourself to get it.”

The ‘lobby’, if you could call it that, had a few scattered chairs where the other guests were lounging. Your sense that told you more trouble was housed here went off. “I’m a bounty hunter,” you supplied. You ruffled around in your saddle bags until you found the poster you wanted. “Have you seen this outlaw? Kim Hongjoong? Miss…?”

“The townspeople call me Bluejay,” the innkeeper insisted. She casted a perfunctory look at your wanted poster but shrugged her shoulders. “Never heard of him. Sign here, and I’ll give you the key to your room.”

You signed ‘Red Hawk’ and plucked the key after placing down your money in rumbled bills. Just as the Bluejay opened her mouth, you interrupted her. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. Call that a downpayment on my room.”

“Be my guest,” she replied with amusement. 

Red Hawk was your moniker as a bounty hunter. When you were young, the man you loved was killed by a bandit right before your eyes. You had wept over his dead body. As a consequence, your hair had been dyed red by the blood of my dead love. After you dried your tears, you hunted down that bandit and killed him yourself, with your dead lover’s guns. That’s when you officially became Red Hawk.

After settling your affairs at the inn, you went straight to the bank. That was the last known location of the Sunset Outlaw. You interviewed the few witnesses that there were, more notably, the main banker. Choi San had a large body for such a small countenance. He flinched when you flashed your badge at him, and he stammered through his encounter. 

“He t-took everything. He had a g-g-gun but he never shot it or anyone. Although he did…” San chewed on his bottom lip anxiously, looking down at the floor.

“I need all the information I can get, Mister Choi. In order to catch him,” You prodded him.

San nodded his head, but it seemed like a motion he was going through, not that he actually understood you. 

You sighed and closed your notebook. “Even if it sounds weird. You never know what kind of clue will help me,” you encouraged him.

San’s eyes met yours, but they were shaky at best. “We had one client at that time that was depositing some money. A lot of money, so he demanded we open the bank for him during the night, when no one else was around. He just finished a deal with a farmer. Bought the land while the farmer was recovering from his family being murdered. He wanted out quickly. The outlaw seemed to imply that our client had sent the bandits that murdered the farmer’s family. Then--” San’s pupils blew, and you tried not to sigh again. You got this a lot in your line of work. Well, your other line of work. 

San breathed in deeply, as if he were gathering up his courage to speak. “Then, the outlaw grabbed the client intimately, and he bit him!”

You cursed. “Did you bury him here in the town’s graveyard?”

San’s eyes were wide with fear. “No. The outlaw took the body with him. It was the oddest experience I’ve ever had.”

You patted San on his somewhat broad shoulder. “I hope you never have to experience it ever again.”

Your bounty hunter career was actually a cover for your true calling: vampire hunter. When your family migrated over from Europe, it had been the family business. When it wasn’t just humans that moved over to the Americas, it seemed that your family would need to continue with their work. 

In the next couple of days, you continued to gather intel. Just one fanciful encounter from a scared banker wasn’t enough to condemn a man. Except the more you learned about this supposed outlaw, the more you were starting to get some grudging respect for him.

The Sunset Outlaw was a modern-day Robin Hood. He stole from the rich and gave to the poor. There were at least a couple more instances of the outlaw robbing a train cart of government gold, only for it to wind up under the beds of failing businesses in the county. A recently widowed mother found a herd of cattle on her land after a group of bandits were horribly murdered in the middle of the night. The list went on, but no innocent lives were taken. The outlaw just happened to be pissing off the wrong people in power. 

You were, however, not getting a clue of where the vampire was holding up. No one could see what the outlaw looked like because he wore a bandana over his face whenever his crimes occurred. Even San said that the outlaw's face was obscured by the man’s neck he had been biting. You were starting to think this hunt was going to end in a dead end for you.

You sat in the local saloon after a long day of investigating. You nursed watery beer, not in the mood to spend more money on something harder. You were going to have to stay here until the outlaw committed another crime, hoping to be able to catch him in the act. 

One of the whores that worked in the saloon sighed heavily, causing the one beside her to flutter her fan. “Do you think Mister Kang will come tonight? He sure is a sight for sore eyes.”

“He is the most beautiful man I have ever had the delight of laying eyes on,” the other whore agreed. 

You were about to zone out from the conversation when something the first whore said peaked your interest. “Odd for him to only come out when the sun set though, hmmm?” 

The fan fluttered and then snapped shut by the second whore. “I know plenty of men like him, hun, it’s not so odd.”

The first whore was clearly newer than the second one, so she persisted. “But even the man at the general store insists he only sees him at night too. He makes a special exception for Yeosang. He buys more food than one person could need. I wonder if he’s supporting a family at home.”

“If he is, that means he’s cheating on his poor wife with us,” the second one reminds the first. 

That began your digging into this Kang Yeosang. The locals said he had recently purchased a plot of land that was far from town. He didn’t come in often, and when he did, it was always after the sun had set. Which, for a majority of the settlers that woke and slept with the sun rise, was considered quite odd. 

“Must be old money,” the general store owner mused out loud. “One of those first settler families from New York. He dresses well, that’s for sure. Never a speck of dust on that man’s clothes.”

“Pays his tab,” the bartender informed you at the saloon. “Even if he drudges up a tab while buying the whole room a round, he always pays up the next time he’s in.”

“I’ve never seen a man so pale,” An elderly lady told you when you stopped her in the middle of the road during a stroll. The sun was so strong for her that she held a parasol above her. Ironic, considering her take on Mister Kang, but even so. 

You were beginning to think that you needed to set up a meeting with this Kang Yeosang. And that perhaps it might lead you to the Sunset Outlaw.

After acquiring some less than solid directions from the general store owner, you took Twilight into the dusty beyond. Even though you left fairly early, the townspeople were not joking that Yeosang lived far from the settlement. Around midday, you stopped at a farmer’s plot of land to beg for some water for your horse. 

The farmer was handsome and called his wife ‘sparrow’ which would have been sweet if you didn’t find the domesticity of it exhausting. You had never known a life like that, so it simply did not appeal to you. But the couple seemed happily in love. The wife even delivered you a cup of coffee, laughing when you pulled a face at the bitter brew. You thanked them for their generosity and moved on. 

The long hours in the saddle were starting to get to you, so you pulled out your pile of outlaw wanted posters. You had a sneaky suspicion that the innkeeper had been lying about knowing the outlaw Kim Hongjoong, but that was a problem for another day. You were contemplating where you would move on next if you happened to take out the Sunset Outlaw. There was one known simply as ‘little eagle’. She had a similar background to the Sunset Outlaw, it seemed. Helping out some natives from keeping their land didn’t sound like a crime to you, but it sure did from the people she had stolen the deeds from. 

You were about to turn around and set up camp for the evening at a copse of trees that grew next to a boulder when at last a house came in sight for you. “Finally!” you said, pulling your hat off and fanning yourself. 

You hopped off your horse and guided Twilight to the fence. Not a lot of people took kindly to you walking on their land. Yeosang had sounded like a gentleman, but you weren’t one to take someone at face value, although everyone had painted him as beautiful beyond comparison. Most people also use the same descriptors for vampires.  

The sun was still up, but it seemed to be setting. Not a great time to come accusing someone of being a vampire IF they were a vampire, but you had no choice. You did, however, have your crossbow strapped to your back and your quiver at your hip, along with a few recently sharpened steaks, and that would have to do. And if it turned out Yeosang wasn’t a vampire, hopefully, you wouldn’t have to use your pistols on him. 

“What's a delicious bounty hunter like yourself doing so far out of town, Red?”

You narrowed your eyes at the front porch of the homestead. The sun was low, and it cast a long shadow over the covered outcrop. “Apparently introductions are not in order,” you drawled. 

“Why, of course I’ve familiarized myself with the new face in town,” Yeosang said charmingly. “Especially since such a pretty face has been asking all about little ol’ me.”

You chuckled mirthlessly. “That’s a mighty fine compliment coming from a man they describe as a perfect statue.”

“But my real question is why is a bounty hunter interested in someone of my high standing? Why, I’ve never even stolen as a child. I pay my tabs on time. I even buy a round of beer in the saloon when I’m feeling good. I’m an outstanding citizen, if I do say so myself.”

“Then you would know that I’ve been asking everyone in town about the Sunset Outlaw as well. I figured since you were new in these parts, you would offer a different perspective.” You stared right into the eyes of the devil himself. Now, would he take the bait?

“Since you rode all the way out here and the sun is setting, I would be remiss to send you back out. You should stay, have supper with me and I can answer all your questions.”

You hummed and opened the padlock to the fenced area. “Don’t mind if I do, Mister Kang. That’s very nice of you.”

The inside was as normal as one would expect. It was decorated with taste, and there were a few pieces, including the grand piano, that would have cost a pretty penny. Now, an outlaw might be so inclined to spend his money that way. Or a vampire that had already lived a few centuries might have brought it over, still attached to their material possessions from their human life. 

“So, Mister Kang, what brings you to this bustling little town at the edge of civilization?” You wondered, putting down your crossbow and leaning it up against the coathanger.

Now that you were inside and Yeosang out of the shade, you could truly be struck by the beauty of the man. The provincial townspeople had not been telling tall tales about the new man in town. His nose, his jawline, his almond shaped eyes, everything supported how gorgeous he was. His face contrasted with his larger figure, but you figured the body was to dissuade others from picking a fight with him. Although most vampires preferred to appear helpless, which lured in their prey, this vampire seemingly played by a different set of rules.

“Please, call me Yeosang,” the mysterious man insisted.

“Why, that’s awfully informal of you,” You said, meeting his eyes. 

The brunette cocked his head flirtatiously. “I do enjoy a lady calling me by my name in my house.”

You snorted under your breath. “I am far from a lady.”

Yeosang eyes traveled over your shirt and vest, dipping into every curve and valley. His eyes seemed to light up as they flowed over your tight pants. “So I see. We’ll have to fix that.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

Yeosang rubbed his chin. “I don’t have a lot of visitors, and as you have learned from the townsfolk, I don’t go into town that much. I would be much obliged if you would help me shave before supper? So I can appear as gentlemanly as one can assume to be in a desolate landscape that we live in. I have a dress upstairs for you to change into. Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend in an uncivilized place such as this?”

“I can help you with your shaving.” You jumped on the opportunity to have Yeosang at your fingertips.

“How lovely,” Yeosang replied. His eyes held a dark light that belied something mysterious. Then again, vampires did love their mystery.

The mysterious man who invited you into his house gave you a brief tour, which included lingering near his bedroom when he announced whose room it was. Then he brought you back to the main floor, to the dining room.

Yeosang had set up a bowl with hot water, and the soap was in a tin with the appropriate brush. He handed you a towel before taking a seat at his dining room table. He had already tucked a towel into his shirt to protect it. “I do appreciate you doing me this favor,” He smiled serenely.

“Call it payback for supplying me with dinner,” You replied coyly. 

Yeosang tipped back his head, and you took that as your cue to begin. You lathered up the soap and took the brush, using broad strokes to apply it liberally on his face and neck. You firmly grasped his head to hold it in place

“I don’t suppose you’ve been around when the Sunset Outlaw has been committing his crimes?” You asked your first question. One stroke of the brush up his neck had you admiring the sharpness of his jaw.

Yeosang rolled his eyes up to regard you. “No, I have not had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“But you have heard the town gossip,” You pursued.

“Of course. The townsfolk appear to adore this Sunset Outlaw. He does help them where no one would,” Yeosang offered.

Yeosang was finally completely covered in soap, so you procured the razor from the table. Yeosang wasn’t going to be able to talk during this period as any movement might cause you to cut him, so you took your chance to seemingly gab about what you had learned.

“I will tell you something interesting I garnered from all his stories, however,” you began. The razor glided along Yeosang’s skin easily, and you knew it had nothing to do with how good the soap was. “For some odd reason, the Sunset Outlaw, living up to his name, never does his good deeds while the sun is up. It’s almost like he’s allergic to the sun! Funny, right? But I do find it interesting.”

You paused to wipe the razor of the soap that had run up the blade while you shaved Yeosang, and he took the moment to speak up.

“That is interesting,” He said, his eyes sparkling with interest. “It’s almost like you’ve come to some conclusions yourself.”

You leaned in as if you had a secret just for his ears. “My family is from Europe, you see. So these accounts sound very familiar to me. There are myths of men drinking blood from other men.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. “A vampire?”

You narrowed your eyes at Yeosang. He was a good little actor. “Heard of them, have you?”

Yeosang’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’ve been known to crack open a book from time to time.”

“You two have a lot in common,” you drawled.

Yeosang laughed, and it rang disingenuously throughout the dining room. “Me? An outlaw? My genteel upbringing surely doesn’t call for it.”

“Why am I here, Yeosang?!” 

Yeosang chuckled dryly in the back of his throat. “Why, you're helping me shave right now?”

Your hand tightened on Yeosang’s forehead and the razor at his neck. “I don't feel one grain of a stubble under this soap, Partner, so, try again.”

“You're not like the rest of them, are you?” Yeosang drawled, a crooked smirk pulling one corner of his lips.

“No, I don't suppose I am,” you agreed. You continued to shave Yeosang, but it was more threatening now. “But neither are you, are you, Yeosang?”

“Whatever do you mean, Red?” Yeosang faked ignorance.

“Well, none of the townsfolk have seen you while the sun is up, for one thing,” you pointed out.

“I just like staying up until the sun rises,” Yeosang said, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

“And the box your bed is on?” You pointed out.

“Why, I like sleeping raised off the floor, just like everyone else,” Yeosang offered.

You tucked the razor into your pocket after cleaning it and then folding it in half. You took the towel over your shoulder and then began to use it to touch your neck. You pulled aside your hair. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?” You murmured.

Something poked against his lower lip and his tongue came out to play along the top line of his teeth. His light eyes took on an almost predatory gaze. “I don't feel the heat like I used to.”

“And the unnatural white skin and long fangs?” You said in a deadly tone.

“Oh no, Hawk, it seems you've triggered the animalistic side to me,” Yeosang purred. “That, I'm sorry to say, is simply encouraged by your alluring scent. You smell like you would taste divine.”

“If my blood smells that good, why don't you bite me?” You prompted.

“Because that would be bad manners, darlin’.”

“Don't you darlin’ me, Mister Vampire,” You finally accused. 

“What will you do?” Yeosang wondered. “Your crossbow is propped up at the front door. That razor isn't going to do a lot, but piss me off. Unless you've got something else tucked into that tight little getup of yours. I really wish you'd wash up and put on the dress I laid out for you. Darlin'.”

“I’m done with you toying with me, Yeosang. I'm putting this game to an end,” you declared.

“How quaint. Do you really think you’ll kill me before I can kill you?” Yeosang questioned.

One minute, Yeosang was sitting in the chair, and the next he was behind you. His hold on your head to pull it back mimicked the way you had been holding him as you shaved him. You shuddered as his fangs scraped against your skin. You could feel his cool breath on your neck. 

“I believe this is check,” Yeosang snarled, making a chess reference. Educated fucker.

“Is it?” You said through gritted teeth. 

You had also pulled the stake that you kept strapped to your upper arm, pulling it stealthily from your folded up sleeves. It was now pointing at Yeosang’s heart. “Let's test your earlier question. It can’t hurt, right?”

Yeosang sighed, his breath causing you to acquire goosebumps all along your skin. “I don’t want to kill you, but it seems you are most determined to kill me.”

“You are a vampire; a monster. An aberration from the evolutionary line of humans. You need to be eliminated before you kill more humans.” You shivered, but it wasn't because of fear.

“But I’m only killing the bad ones!” Yeosang insisted, frustration coating his tone. “Didn’t you discover that during your investigation?”

“It doesn’t matter what your reasoning is!” You yelled. It felt good to yell; to battle against rolling your hips back against his body.

“Surely it does, though? Outlaws can’t go around and kill innocent people because that’s against the law. But you’re allowed to kill outlaws. You protect the good humans from the bad. You KILL the bad humans to protect the good ones. Aren’t I doing the same?”

You froze, Yeosang’s words, causing your world to come crashing down. “You’re wrong,” you spat even though you were lying through your teeth.

“I’m right,” Yeosang insisted. “Only, you can’t handle that.” The vampire's grip tightened, the firmness of his body suddenly tighter against you. Your stake pressed into his flesh. “You can't handle any of me.”

Your pulse stuttered and your pussy throbbed. “What are you doing to me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against your sensitive skin as he spoke. “What am I doing to you?”

“Stop that.” You had meant that as a command, but it came out as a whine.

Yeosang peeked down your body and his deep chuckle set your libido on fire. “I can see how hard your nipples are from here, Darlin’.”

There was nothing worse than having a sexual reaction to your mortal enemy. “Let me go before I stab you.”

“I can't let you go. I'm awfully hungry,” Yeosang purred. “I might have to be balls deep in you while I drink from your breast.”

Excitement flared through your body and you cursed at it betraying you. “You wouldn't dare.”

“I would dare, the way your body is screaming for me to do all the debased things I don't dare do with the whores in town.” 

Somehow, in your pursuit of triggering Yeosang to bite you and put the final nail in his coffin, so to speak, you had passed over the fence that separated hatred into lust. You desperately wanted what Yeosang was offering. You would be at your most vulnerable if you allowed it to happen, but perhaps it would give you the chance you needed to finish this battle. You had to at least try; Yeosang was a hard nut to crack.

You let your body melt into Yeosang’s hold, letting the arm that you held your stake to Yeosang’s heart fall to your side. “Am I a bad human then? Will you kill me?”

Yeosang let go of his hold on your head and turned you around. “Haven’t you been listening? You and me? We are the same. Our character is morally grey; doing bad things for the good of the world.”

Your throat tightened. Hadn't you been grappling with the same question since you began to kill? Vampire or human, you had wondered if you were becoming one of them; one of the monsters.

Yeosang tipped your chin to meet his eyes. You immediately avoided direct eye contact. As a vampire hunter, you knew never to look him directly in the eyes. He might hypnotize him otherwise. A throaty, knowing chuckle left Yeosang’s pretty lips. “Let me bring you up to my bed. Let me prove to you that people such as us can get along.”

You nodded, and Yeosang threw you over his shoulder. With the speed of a vampire, you were transported to Yeosang’s bedroom. The vampire threw you gently to the bed, and you bounced with the impact. 

The vampire watched you with dark eyes as he began to unbutton his shirt and remove it. You followed his lead, removing your vest. When you tried to take off your own shirt, Yeosang was on top of you on the bed, halting your progress. 

“Allow me,” He murmured.

His deft fingers undid the buttons, eyes watching as your bosom was revealed, pushed high from your corset. “All rough on the outside, but still a woman under it all,” Yeosang mused out loud.

You felt your cheeks heat up at that statement. “It’s simply for function,” you muttered under your breath.

You helped Yeosang wriggle you out of your pants, and soon you were only in your corset, pantalettes discarded already. 

Yeosang knelt between your legs, fangs scraping over the sensitive flesh of your thigh. His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed red. “Your scent is tempting. Your blood is beckoning to me.”

You swallowed loudly. How could you be so weak for this vampire? You flipped the two of you so that you were straddling Yeosang instead. 

“Focus on the task at hand,” You insisted. 

You rubbed the heel of your hand on the imprint of Yeosang’s cock against his tight pants. Yeosang moaned and then his eyes widened. You lowered yourself to undo his belt and take him in your mouth. Men almost always forgot about being lubricated when entering a woman. Yeosang bit down on his forefinger, drawing blood with his fangs, as you gave him sloppy head, in order to prepare his cock for yourself.

His hands shredded the bedding below him before he growled and changed positions again. “Who’s proving what to whom?”

You were both knelt on the bed, Yeosang’s legs inside of your own, and your back to his chest. “Enough games, we both know who’s in charge in this situation.”

You let out a soft cry as Yeosang entered you from behind. Once he was completely sheathed inside of you, one hand slid over the curve of your hip and, the other hand, pulled your hair out of the way. 

“Wa-wait,” You stuttered as Yeosang’s hips swivelled and his cock moved in and out of you slowly. 

“Oh, I’m not going to bite you immediately,” Yeosang laughed quietly. “But you did shudder for me so deliciously when I did this earlier. I can’t help myself.” Those delicate fangs ran along the slope of your shoulder, and you closed your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling once again. 

Yeosang worked himself in and out of you, slowly but surely, nearly driving you insane. He wasn’t like the quick fucks that you were used to. The type where men spilt their seed and you missed your orgasm once again. It was almost like Yeosang was looking for you to attain your high first. 

“Yeo…” You moaned his name wantonly.

“Careful, Red,” Yeosang said as he clasped his hand over your mouth. The same hand that was bleeding. He wiped his blood over your lips sensually. “You might appear eager for me.”

Your muffled noises of pleasure randomly escaped Yeosang’s gag. You could feel your pleasure building, and it was only a matter of time before it spilled over. As you moaned with your release, Yeosang bit down on your neck. He pumped himself in and out of you, drinking your blood, and found his own orgasm. He growled against your neck, spilling himself inside of you. 

You both collapsed onto the bed in a tired pile, both satiated in one way or another. Facing each other, you both panted as your highs slowly slipped away.

But, as with most men, Yeosang found himself indulging in pillow talk. 

“You asked me earlier what I’m doing here on the edge of civilization.” Yeosang brought up in a voice that was deep from having some great, mind-blowing sex.

“It was a rhetorical question,” You mused.

Yeosang dragged a finger along your bare shoulder, playing with some stray hair, the red ends beginning to fade out. “I’d like to answer it, nonetheless.”

You pursed your lips. It was bad enough that you had already started to feel like Yeosang was one of the good guys the way he treated the locals. Even worse, you’d let the very monsters you hunt fuck you. But to listen to his reasons why, surely there was a limit? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Yeosang chuckled low mirthlessly. “Afraid you’ll start seeing me as a human?”

You stiffened as the accusation hit its target. “You are an abomination. You’re like an animal that’s upset the ecosystem. You haven’t been human for a very long time.”

“You’re right.” Yeosang smiled tightly and then it was gone. “But that ties into why I’m here.”

You sat up, pulling the sheet with you to keep you covered. Unfortunately, that took away from the sheet covering Yeosang, and it pooled at his waist scandalously. You swallowed loudly and pointedly looked away. “Trying to make up for lost time?” 

“Something like that.” Yeosang smiled slowly. “Like what you see, Darlin’?”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t you have to go to sleep soon? I’m sure the sun will rise eventually.”

Yeosang folded his arms behind his head and shook his head. Unfortunately for you, it only showcased his arms and upper body that much more. “That’s a myth. I never sleep. I simply can not allow the sun to touch my skin.”

“Yeosang.”

“I know. I’ll have to leave. Disappear for a bit until the bounty dies. But I will continue to help people who need it. This place is desolate and it needs some hope.”

You didn’t know what to say, truly. “I hope… I hope I’m not still doing bounty work when it comes up again.”

Yeosang’s light eyes flick over to your hunched body. “What will you tell your family?”

“I’m not sure. If I say I didn’t kill you, someone else will come looking for you, Yeosang.”

“Don’t go back?”

You shook your head. “I can’t do that. There are more vampires out there, killing innocent people. I won’t stop protecting them. It’s my calling.” You rub your hand over your chest, feeling pain in your heart. 

“Then…let me come with you.”

Your head whipped backward so fast you gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

Yeosang’s eyes remained on the ceiling above, but you could tell he was holding back hopefulness and bracing for the worst. “What better place to hide from the enemy than with the enemy?” Yeosang’s eyes finally found yours. “Besides, I could help people with you.”

“You’d help me kill your own kind?” You demanded with bewilderment.

“I’d help you,” Yeosang clarified. “I also don’t want innocent people dying for no reason too.”

“You’re awfully dedicated to atoning for your sins,” you mentioned.

Yeosang’s lips tightened. “I have a lot of sins to atone for.” And he left it at that.

You laid back down, using Yeosang’s arm to pillow your head. “I guess I won’t be leaving at sunrise after all.”

And that was the last that was heard of the Sunset Outlaw. Some surmise that he retired after helping out so many people in need. Some believe he never existed in the first place. But other’s swear that the outlaw took up with the likes of a bounty hunter, playing Maid Marian to his Robin Hood. Now wouldn’t that be an interesting story indeed.

[ghost-rule0]

Mindfuck (Part 1/2)

Vash the Stampede x Reader

Another draft for the fanfic I wanted to try writing down. Again not edited bc I am still at work just writing down ideas. This time Imma split it in two parts tho, one focusing on exploring readers own defensiv strategies while also bonding with our beloved ex insurance worker and now reporter Meryl :3

The second part is again some fluff with Vash obviously and I might also trow in some Wolfwood and or Roberto interactions for the sake of writing them.

I still need to do more researche and draw more concepts for this fanfic to actually start so imma just bomb you with scenarious that I might or might not will later trow in the real book. Also yes I will probebly trow in isekai reader but thats just an idea for now

Enjoy!

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. The room was painfully silent aside from the faint sobbing of children and their mothers trying calm them down, voice trembling in fear.

Y/N knew this scenario more than she did like to. The bandits that held the bank hostage that she and Merly entered some hours ago were having an heated argument in back of the room while the other hostages nerves were tested at the fearful image that was infront them. The bandits had shot one of their own comrades that didn't want to share with them and now was laying dead in his own puddle of blood.

Human brains worked the same no matter which dimension they were in. It didn't matter if it was on Earth or here on Gunsmokes Criminals were always mentally scared beeings, so if stressed some tended to use the only form of problem solving they knew.

That just happened to be violance.

Back at home before she crashed the dessert here some weeks prior she was studying exactly that, using her observant nature and her deep interest in crime to become a profiler.

In a world where Guns and Violance was dominating the planet having the abilitys she possesed, analyzing heavior and seeing the patterns while also manipulating people to let her be, that was her ultimate weapon to stay alive. since the only other weapon she had was a metalic pipe and that barely worked against a fully armed bandits.

She stayed silent most of the event, looking around and calmly observing her surroundings. Originally there were three bandits. Two dominat ones and one subbmissiv guy. Right as they started this whole trouble she knew from experience some shit would eventually go down since most of the time criminals only could operate in groups with one dominat member that so happen to have submissiv sidekicks, so seeing the two man bicker over the leader role already set of the alarm bells in her mind.

Meryl meanwhile was also surprisingly calm, or at least she tried to be. The reporter wasn't used to beeing in the middle of conflict. Since she joined Roberto, Vash had always been the center of attetion which made it a bit easier for her to stay back and have less stress. But Vash wasn't here and she was stuck with the only other person on this god forsaken planet that was similar a danger magnet than the blond man himself.

But that didn't stop her from keeping herself cool. Seemingly more nervous than her partner beside her but still in a better mental state than the other hostages. For Vash for this matter, who was outside with Roberto and wolfwood. The trio hid in a alleyway near the bank, carefully watching the sheriff and the bankers wife talk about the situation. The blond man was basically a nervous wreck and blamed himself for the capture. Telling himself he should have gone with the two girls or at least get inside to save there asses. But he didn't let that get through, while his anxious side was bascially ripping his brain apart the gunslinger and rational side of him was already working on a plan.

Y/N didn't exactly know that but she predicted that he would do something like that. He cared for people too much to just let a hostage happen under his watch. But she knew as much as she wanted to, she couldn't put all the afford on getting them out on the boys. Which is why she already had an idea.

Prior to them walking off to the bank Roberto gave Meryl one of his darengers, which she thankfully had hidden so good in her coat that as the bandits demanded all weapons to be given to them they couldn't find one on her. And since she was the only one currently possesing a weapon it was her job to take out the leader while she herself took the side kick.

The screaming of the leader become loud and obnoxious enough that he had all the attetion of the room, so she could whisper to merly without anyone noticing.

"I think I got a plan" she whispered as her eyes were locked on the duo. "You think? What are we supposed to do its two armed gigants against us" she hissed silently in the (h/cs)nettes ears. Y/N hummed agreeing as answer as her eyes roamed the area. "You still have the gun Roberto gave you right" her voice dropping almost inaudible as the word gun rolled of her tongue, playing even more save no one would notice their conversation. Meryl softly nodded before Y/N spoke up again. "When I give you a signal you shoot the gun out of the bigger guys hand. Try not to aim for his fatal spots until really necessary. I take care of the second one..." she laughed air and soundless before looking at me. "He also has a gun how do you want to do that?! As soon as I hurt his boss we are swiss cheese!"

Carefully observing the smaller man as he started to nervously chew on his fingers she smirked. The gun in his hands he held firmly but his finger never was even near the trigger. He flinched every time his boss was pointing at one if the hostages when he spilled empty threats and ealier as he shoot the other bandit he couldnt even look at the corpse.

"That is gonna be childsplay trust me"

-

It didn´t take long until the argument had finally stopped and the bandits attetion was back at their hostages presence. No one dared to move. They didnt need to rope them up since all of the people were scared, scared too shitless to even try to resist. Most silently sobbed, some prayed, others sat in their corners and accepted their envidible doom and Meryl and Y/N meanwhile had gotten their hands on one of the belongings of the bankers inside. Working in a bank all day takes a lot of time and nerves since its takes full concentration out of someone to carefully count money and take care of the safes in the back. So it wasnt surprising one of them had empty bottles laying around. Collecting laying around juck was less noticable than for example asking the staff memembers for say cigerettes and lighters. It wasnt much but it was enough to cause the bandits to panic. The leader kicked one of the workers in the face as he held his gun to the poor mans head. “you useless fucks are even less worth than the little to no cash you have laying around in this bullshit bank! Not even the Sheriff wants to pay for your pathetic asses! Fucking useless shits!” he growled in rage as the banker cried and plead for his life. “Please..Please! I have a wife and children at home! Please do..don’t kill me” he maniged to croak out between sobs. The Bandit puts his finger on the trigger and grinned, in a widely spread and digusting smile. His eyes were could and his eyebrows twitched in amusment. He was getting a kick out of seeing the mans fear, begging him to not pull the trigger. Y/N knew that face and she cursed silently in her head. The man didn’t care for the money anymore. After killing his teammate he started to get a kick out of it.

He started to like killing people.

“fuck it” the girl growled digusted before jumping up, carefully having moved to the blind spot carefully over the past minutes, before trowing the bottle as hard as she could at the back of the leaders head, stunning him for a second as Meryl dashed forward and shot right trough the hand that was holding the gun. A loud and painful cut trough the silence as blood spat everywhere, leaving the mans head mangled and impaled as the reporter takled his screaming form to the ground and took his gun. Holding both the deringer and the mans own gun to his head, hissing in his hear to stay down or else he would have two more holes in his head to speak shit out from. The other robber meanwhile started to panic and point his gun at her friends head. “Get....get of....off him or else...else I will shoot!” he stuttered out. His eyes were wide and fearful but also paniced. Y/N meanwhile walked slowly between them. Having the gun of the panicking robber pressed against her forhead. As she calmly smiled. Her calm starring made him seemingly shake more, having the finger on the trigger non stop as he blabbeled more nonsense, trying to threath her. But it was barely understandble english since his stuttering made him almost mess up every word. If she didn´t knew better he almost looked like beeing moments away from having a panic attack. Shaking, heavy and unsteady breating, increased heartbeat and blurred vision by tears.

Yeah she knew all this systems all too well from her time back home.

Meryl seemed also to sweat, becoming more nervous for her friends safety as she carefully held the man down, recalling her words from ealier. “childsplay? you are insane!” She chuckled as she smiled at her “maybe you need to be a little insane to survive here. Ok listen I will stun the leader so you can get a good aim for his hand and dash to hold him down. And no matter what you hear, concentrate on holding the guy down and don’t turn around to me, ok?”

She swallowed hard as she mumbled “you are so fucked up” clenching her eyes shut as she forced herself to concentrate fully on holding the guy down, not looking if her friend would soon be silenced as a shoot would ring.

But it never came. The nervous mumbling of the bandit was interupted by a cutting, clear and cocky sounding. “you won´t shoot me, you don’t have the guts to do soo”

The gun fell from his almost forcefully shaking hands, right before the cocky grinning Y/N grabbed him and pulled him forwards. Punching him right in the face, covering her fist with lots of his blood, probebly breaking his nose, before his limp body hit the ground.

---

[cl0wnhaus]

assorted pubbets

[meowczafhaye]

SO CUTE!!!, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!😍😍😍😍💕💕💕💕

Danny x Scarlett

Gift For: @meowczafhaye

I love them so much 💕💕💕💖💖💖

[ink-mochi]

I just discovered Showdown Bandit and no one can convince me otherwise that Doc Carver and the Bandit flirt with the Banker because he is best boi Also if anything happens to Banker i’m rioting

[sketch-purple]

Oops I forgot to post this so here ya go cuties

[multi-level-shipper]

Forbidden romance

[mutatedleemon]

This question was: “Banker, Banker, will you and Mister Carver have a wedding?”

The answer is obvious here. I love this dolls wtf

[cloudsrust]

“It had to be fear. It couldn’t be anything but fear.”

aaaaa- I promised myself to not ship anything before I knew more about the characters but this beautiful fic by @randomwriteronline just destroyed me with amazing writing and good old angst.. so- now I guess I’m on board with this ship whoops;;

I hope that making fanart for the fic it’s okay-  I just couldn’t help myself it was too good to just pass on;; 

[meowczafhaye]

Ray's childhood friend - showdown bandit fanchild

doc carver and his son, Ray, when on a visit to Soren Clawheart, when visit the Clawheart mansion, Ray met a araknit child with her little friend, while their dad's have talk, Ray asked her that he could play with her, so she agrees to play together

Ray - banker and doc carver's son

Hana - soren's adopted daughter

[kiraqueenbtd]

Yeah, idk

[randomwriteronline]

It was quiet.

So very quiet.

So very full of hidden dangers, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Mr. Banker.”

The puppet jolted in his small booth. Not too far away, a spectacled figure was slightly turned to him, observing him with a hint of what he could only guess was some sort of curiosity. Kind of like a big feline evaluating its prey.

“Ah! H-hello there, Doc.” he greeted, trying to calm down his shaking body, “Uhm, s, slow day, ain’t it?”

“Quite.” the doctor agreed, his deep voice resonating almost frighteningly in the lack of sound around them. He took his eyes off the Banker to take his trusty utensils out of his dirty apron’s pocket and started to polish them slowly, with care. “Hours into the day, and still not a Bandit in sight.”

“M, maybe he’s having some, hm, some trouble, out there in the Wild.”

“With all those Stringless wandering around, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

The Banker nodded, unsure what else to do.

He fidgeted with his hands, scratching dark particles away.

Carver was a proper fellow, he was. Sane and kicking and willing to help other poor wooden souls who wanted to keep their mind and strings intact. But he couldn’t help but feel uneasy around him.

Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the stains on his clothes. Maybe it was how carefully he was tending to his scissors and needle. Maybe it was... Maybe it was... He couldn’t place what it maybe was. But looking at Doc Carver made him tremble and want to hide under his counter in fear.

It had to be fear.

It couldn’t be anything but fear.

“Say, Mr. Banker.”

Those sudden words made him jump again. Carver was analizing the tip of his needle, rotating it in his finger. The glint of his orange glasses sent shivers down the Banker’s spine.

It had to be fear.

“Do you need a bit of... Mending, perhaps?”

It couldn’t be anything but fear.

“Oh, n, no, you, you’re very kind, gettin’ worried for me, Doc, but uh, I, I can assure you, my strings are in p-perfect shape!”

The doctor returned his attention to the other puppet: “You seem excessively pale.” he noted.

The Banker stopped scratching at his hands as if realizing what he was doing: “Ah, that is, uh, it’s nothing, Doc. It’s just... Y-you know, age!”

Carver only hummed. To the anxious puppet’s surprise, he took off his apron, opened up his little booth, and began walking towards the Wild. In his hands he held his scissors.

“W-where are you going, Doc?” the Banker asked worriedly.

The other shrugged nonchalantly: “Business.” he simply replied, “Oughta see if there’s some poor folks in need. Take care.”

The poor four-eyed puppet couldn’t even answer ‘You too, Doc’ that the mustached figure had already left, and he was surrounded only by the silence.

He hated the silence.

Every little noise his ears would detect dug into his wooden skin like a termite, leaving him wondering what had made such a sound. He was never safe, in the silence. Awful things hid everywhere, looking hungrily at the scrawny, fearful, shaking little body all curled up inside the bank booth. He could hear them drooling in anticipation, already savouring the tasty feeling that would invade their mouths once they finally took a bite out of those defenseless wooden limbs. He could see their greedy hands clutching his strings and tearing them apart with ease, pulling and pulling without rest until he was just like them: a stringless, mindless corpse, left behind by whatever - or whoever - had once held him up through those silky seams.

The Banker laid his head on the counter and clutched it with his hands, trembling and sobbing quietly. Oh, how he wished someone else was there.

He waited hours or minutes, he couldn’t tell the difference: all he knew was that at one point he dozed off, exhausted by anxiety, and that he awoke to the sound of something metallic moving, maybe rolling, not too far away from the bank.

He lifted his wooden cranium and felt relief fill his chest when he recognized the familiar long shape of Carver’s jaw: “Doc!” he called out, standing up from his chair to take a better look at him, “You’re back!”

The doctor turned to him with a smile as he rolled something behind his counter.

“Glad to see you too, Mr. Banker. Has any Bandit shown up?”

He seemed mostly unharmed, the Banker noticed, the sinking feeling in his stomach becoming much lighter: “No, nobody came while you were gone.”

“Ah, well, all the better. Wouldn’t want to disappoint a client by not being there.”

“How, how did your errands go? Found someone?”

“No one, sadly. Or maybe not so much. It would mean everybody’s safe and sound somewhere else - far away from the Wild.”

“Y-yes, that sounds rather good.”

He was so glad not to be alone anymore.

Carver stared intently at the Banker’s face. That same sensation, that fear (for fear it had to be), came back to churn the other’s wooden insides.

“You are so strikingly pale.” the doctor muttered.

He sounded almost... Almost worried. He had to be worried. He couldn’t be... He couldn’t be... Well, he didn't know what he couldn't be, but he had to not be it.

The four-eyed puppet waved his hand in what he hoped was a dismissive way: “I, I told you Doc, it’s j-just age-”

“Age, you say.” the other interrupted him.

“I, I do say, yes-”

“Then perhaps you could use a fresh hand.”

The Banker stopped. Without knowing, he’d been fidgeting with his fingers.

“A... A fresh hand?” he repeated, confused.

Carver put on his apron and rummaged in its pocket. Finally, he took out a paintbrush and began running his fingers through its bristles to see if they were stuck to one another. They flowed wonderfully.

“While in the Wild, I happened to find just the treatment for this... ‘Age’ of yours.” the doctor said, subtly eyeing his anxious companion’s hands, which had certainly seen better days, “If you’d be so kind to come over here, I could see what I can do about it. I’m afraid painting you through those bars would be quite the herculean feat even for a doctor as capable as I.”

The Banker waited a little. Carver simply looked as the timid puppet came out of his little bank and walked up to him, a tad anxious. He opened his booth with a smile, pulling out a little chair made from scraps of what he could find for the other to make himself comfortable on. He then moved to the small paint bucket he’d gone through countless troubles to find; he removed the lid and started mixing the brown liquid in the hopes it hadn’t been waiting around long enough to become solid.

“You might want to take off your vest and bow.” he advised, hoping the Banker wouldn’t notice the barely masked tremble in his voice, “Wouldn’t want to get them dirty, would we, now.”

The other just murmured something, perhaps agreeing. There was a bit of rustling, and when Carver turned, bow and vest laid neatly folded on his table: the Banker looked up at him expectantly, one of his legs bouncing rapidly in slight discomfort.

"I'd start from the back, if you don't mind." the doctor said as he filled a soda cap-turned-container with light brown paint. The timid puppet only nodded, lowering his head to make the job easier.

The bristles went up and down the Banker's nape gently, like a soft and wet caress. They seemed so relaxing, as if inviting him to lean into their touch. The more he thought about them, the more his mind drifted to the one holding the brush, moving it so kindly and sweetly on his wooden surface. There was an adjective that explained perfectly the feeling inside those careful movements...

"M- Must'a been a real trouble for you to find a whole, whole bucket of paint." he noted, trying to distract himself from the warm fear taking hold of his stomach.

A real trouble, the poor fellow said. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Not at all, in fact: first he'd thought he remembered the location where he first had seen the precious bucket, but it turned out his memory had been incredibly foggy, misleading him and dragging him into a labyrinth of his own making; then it just so happened that those blasted Stringless were everywhere, constantly, and had slowed him down considerably both before and after he'd realized he'd been walking in circles uselessly, wasting precious time; and it really wouldn't have been right to have an already terrible time without that Faceless Bandit showing up and nearly cutting all of his strings at once -

"It was nothing, really." the Doc merely shrugged, "Stumbled upon it as I was looking for patients."

"Well, I, I guess bringing it back here was... Well, I don't think it was a breeze."

"Hm, yes, that is true. I'm glad it rolls, at least."

The Banker hummed. His insides felt like a wildfire had been started in them.

The brush suddenly licked the back of his neck and for a second, he thought he was going to faint due to the boiling feeling exploding in his guts. Instead he forced himself conscious, desperately clutching his knees in his hands - if he'd been made of bones and flesh, his knuckles would have turned white by how hard he was holding onto the fabric of his pants. The paintbrush's tip went further, tickling a spot close to where his Adam's apple would have been.

He swallowed, or at least he tried to: goodness, how terribly easy it was to turn him into shambles.

“I’d say we’re done here.” Carver’s deep voice reached him from behind what felt like walls of cotton.

“A, are we, Doc?” he weakly asked in response, allowing his whole body to hunch forward and shake almost violently to get everything he’d just felt out of his system, as if the experience had required all of his energy and left him exhausted. Both his legs bounced in asynchrony, playing a strange tip-tapping, click-clacking song as his heels hit the floor.

“With the back, for sure. Now,” the doctor hummed, patting his back in a comforting manner, and after he put the container on the counter he walked around the Banker to stand right in front of him. His finger’s gosted under the other’s jaw: “For the face.”

And it suddenly hit the Banker.

Carver had been behind him this whole time.

Now he would have to be face to face with him.

“Y-you know, Doc, there, there’s no need for that.”

Carver raised an eyebrow: “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m, I feel a, a lot better already, I...” the Banker added, struggling to get to his feet and leave that darn booth as fast as he could, “T-thank you, Doc, I’ll, I should, I should get going now, y’know, the, the bank and, uhm, the, the accounts, and the Bandit, and-”

A hand gently held his shoulder. He froze.

“Mr. Banker, please.” the doctor smiled kindly as he softly pushed him back onto the chair, “Don’t think of me as lowly as a snakeoil-selling charlatan.”

“I, I don’t, Doc-”

“Then you know that no doctor worth his salt leaves their patient only half cured.”

“But, but I can assure you I’m, I’m all better already! You, you did a wonderful job, Doc, I couldn’t be better, there’s n, no need to-”

“Please, Mr. Banker.”

The four-eyed puppet trembled harder for just a second: those simple three words made him feel as if he was melting like a lonely icicle under the hot midday sun.

“Just a little longer, and you’ll be free to go.” promised Carver. His hand wandered down the other’s arm comfortingly before he went to get some more paint from the bucket.

“But, but-” the Banker tried - though not as hurriedly as before - in an attempt to buy himself time. He reclined his head to escape the fingers attempting to catch his chin: “I, I need to- The bank- My, my part-”

“You’ll play your part again soon enough.” Carver nodded, resorting to gently putting his palm behind the other puppet’s nape to stop him from retroceeding further, “But before that, we oughta make sure you’re in perfect shape.”

“But, but, but- Doc, I-”

“Mr. Banker, I’d love to chat, I truly would. But I’m afraid for this procedure I’ll need you to, ah...” his index finger pressed tenderly against the Banker’s jaw, gently shutting it closed. “There.”

The four-eyed puppet felt a burning sensation expand from the tip of his chin all over his head. The paintbrush’s wet caresses came back slow, deliberate, only feeding the fire under his wooden shell. He couldn’t move, not even fidget or bounce or stim in any way, or he would have started trembling and the paint would have been smeared all over him; all he could focus on was either the doctor himself, fully dedicated to his meticulous work, or the doctor’s fingers, holding up his head as he painted him. He resigned himself to resting on the wooden phalanges, leaning only slightly into their touch - and before he knew it, his eyes were wandering across the other puppet’s elongated visage, voraciously taking in every detail in the dim light of the doctor’s booth while blessing chance for not giving him any irises or pupils to betray his interest.

By the time the doctor had finished painting his face (passing under his chin in one swift, terribly tender movement as Carver gently held him by an ear), his breath had grown deeper, calmer, his body had stilled. The fire under his wooden skin had become a pleasant heat. The exhilarating feeling of paint on his neck made him bounce his leg a little, but it only took a hand put on top of it and a deep voice saying: “Please, be still, my friend. Wouldn’t want to get your shirt dirty.”, and any last remains of the anxious energy inside of him finally quieted down.

He felt perfectly at peace. He was warm clay in the hands of a gentle creator, moving and molding to their wishes without a single care in the world, only concentrated on Carver’s soft, small, wonderful smile. He could have just raised his hand and idly stroked the scar on his cheek.

No.

No, he couldn’t, he shouldn’t.

He crushed that thought and threw it away.

Why did he even think it?

But the thought sprung up again like a mischievous mole.

He couldn’t, he shouldn’t, he wasn’t going to.

He grabbed that thought and squeezed it in his hands.

The thought cried out in pain, and bargained. Wasn’t it good?, it cried out, Wasn’t it sweet and gentle and kind? Wasn’t it something to want?

It was good, so good, so sweet, so gentle, so kind, so soft, so tender, so very comforting and wonderful and perfect but it couldn’t, it couldn’t, it couldn’t, it just couldn’t really be like that, it couldn’t be a good thing to have his body overwhelmed by that burning, aching, panting, trembling fear (it was fear, it had to be fear, it couldn’t not be fear) that assaulted him whenever the doctor looked at him or talked to him or even just stood there in his field of vision ignoring him, and it couldn’t have been so good that he was craving it, wanting it, needing it every second of his lonely quiet life, it couldn’t be so good, the thought of the doctor staying with him, by him, near him, nearer, closer, so close, so close he could hear the noises inside the other and shield himself from that vicious silence, it couldn’t be so good that he would have thrown away his safety for it, for this yearning, for this cursed, damned, perversed, unnatural thought.

The stress inside of him began awaking, fast, turning the warmth under his skin into a boiling hell.

And right then, the doctor finished.

He gave the Banker a kind grin: “There. Now all that’s left to do is wait for the paint to dry. You could wait here, if you like.”

No, he wouldn’t have liked to wait there. Never, would he have liked to wait there, thank you very much. He was going to stand up and leave and never come back again, never even look at Carver again, never acknowledge him again. He would have just forgotten that he existed, that he had ever existed, and he would have waited quietly and patiently for Bandit to come over and, and, and that would have been it. Played his part and nothing more, as he was always supposed to do from the second he became part of this world.

But the thought took hold of his hand, and he grabbed Carver’s wrist just as he turned to close the lid on the paint bucket. The doctor seemed surprised, for a moment. Then he held it between his own, almost cradling it in his palms, a tender expression on his face. He was the image of adoration.

... No, he couldn’t have been. What a silly, stupid, dangerous assumption.

“I almost forgot.” Carver murmured. His voice was much less frightening at a low volume. Much more comforting. It made the thought burn loudly inside the Banker’s mind.

The Doc covered his hand with a piece of cloth and offered it to the four-eyed puppet. With the slightest hint of reluctancy, he placed his hand on the doctor’s, feeling his fingertips underneath the fabric. First the back of both appendages, then the palms. The bristles ran carefully between the fingers to fill all spaces, even the most hidden ones. When the hands were to be turned, Carver held him almost devotedly by the wrist to keep him steady, and diluted the paint to make its hue a lighter one. He waited with him, thumbs drawing circles on the other’s arms, until all the paint had dried up.

“There.” he concluded, “Now you’re all ready.”

He took a couple steps back to admire - no, he wouldn’t be admiring, he would be just looking at the whole thing - take a better look at him. His fingers played with his chin for a second, and he let out a hearty laugh: “My word, you look even better than back in the day!”

That chuckle, that wonderful sound.

The Banker began shaking.

Every part of his body Carver had touched, his nape, his chin, his ear, shoulders, arm, leg, hands, wrists, every last one of them burned as if scorching metal taken straight from the forge was being pressed against them deeper and deeper. That laugh burned into them harder, more terribly, tearing at his wood.

He stood up with an anxious harmony of clicks and clacks, grabbing his vest so hastily he struggled to put it on. The doctor reached for his bow, to help him, perhaps; he clawed at it immediately, terrified of the possibility. Doc Carver putting his bow on for him, adjusting it on his chest, tightening it ever so slightly... He shivered in fear (it had to be fear) just thinking about it.

The other puppet stared at his face in surprise: “Is something the matter?” he asked worriedly.

The Banker shook his head: “No. No, nothing’s the matter. Absolutely nothing.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf.” Carver noted, reaching for the other’s arm. The Banker yanked it away.

“I’m good! I’m good. Don’t worry. I’m good.”

“Banker-”

He raised his hands, interrupting him. He poorly attempted to take in some deep breaths that only came out ragged and scared.

“Thank you, Doc.” he finally said. “Really, truly, honestly, th-thank you. You were... You were, very kind, to do this for me, but, but now it’s over. I, I need to get to my booth. We all have a, we all have a part to play, and mine is, it’s in that booth. And nowhere else. Not here. Not...  We, we shouldn’t even have done this. We’re supposed to, to wait for Bandit. And, and to help him. Just him. Not... Not like what we... Not like what we did now.”

He was shivering terribly. The thought simply wouldn’t leave. It wouldn’t leave.

Carver wouldn’t leave, either. Or say something, or do something. His paintbrush needed to be cleaned, so why wasn’t he cleaning it? Why wasn’t he properly closing the paint bucket? Why wasn’t he washing the cap-turned-container? Why was he just standing there, looking at him, still as a rock, as if expecting something, anything?

They waited. They waited long and quietly, alone in their small oasis in the Wild, surrounded by Stringless and with the only company of each other.

Carver finally spoke: “Banker.”

He felt his insides twist.

“What’s wrong?”

And the thought pushed him violently, and the Banker flew against the doctor with all of his strength, clutching him in a desperate embrace, digging his newly painted fingers deep into the other puppet’s stained gilet and panting hard on his dirtied skin. He could hear the soft sounds from within the other, the hidden cricks and cracks of wood, and he felt safe, finally safe from that terrifying silence all around them. He felt another pair of arms wrap tenderly around him, keeping him closer, as close as he’d wished to be in his short lived daydreaming, and a forehead rubbing gently against his own. He felt the scratch of orange lensed glasses dig against him and rose his head, letting the spaces where their noses should have been meet. His hand reached for the scar on Carver’s cheek.

Suddenly, it all burned. His body was burning. His body was burning! Enveloped by flames! The flames he was holding so close to himself! Scorching, ruthless, murderous! And he was holding them!

With a scream, he shoved the doctor away, punting himself against the booth’s desk with a loud ‘bang’. He turned and ran straight back inside the bank, not allowing himself to percieve anything around him until he was curled underneath his own counter, hands clutching his head for dear life, face in his knees, shaking and breathing heavily.

He forced himself to stop making any noise, and waited.

He waited for the hurried clacking of shoes, for wooden hands to grab his desk, for a deep, gentle voice to ask for answers, worried, soothing, trying to understand what had he done, what had gone wrong, how he could make up for it. But there was no sound.

Only silence.

Full to the brim the hundreds of terrifying, hungry monstrosities hiding inside of its folds, waiting to turn him into supper.

He inhaled sharply, shivers growing stronger.

He was safe.

Safe from Doc Carver’s kind inviting arms and the sweet promises they held.

The thought laid next to him, a poor hummingbird with a broken neck.

The Banker kicked it as far back as he could into the darkness around him and sobbed loudly.

It had to be fear.

It couldn’t be anything but fear.

[insane-control-room]

puppets,,, not v smort,,,,