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♚ | 𝐗𝐕

NSFW CONTENT

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Ozo was unbearably hard. But could you blame him?

It wasn't like he did it on purpose, either! It just... happened. On accident. But it was a happy accident. In his eyes.

Leaning against the bathroom door heavily, he slapped a hand harshly against his forehead. Why did he suddenly decide to excuse himself and leave you there like that? Was he an idiot?

'The biggest idiot to ever exist, apparently,' he thought bitterly.

He recalled how the both of you sat there in a tense silence, with your form still beneath him and his knee still wedged between your thighs. Your dress had ridden up during your little scuffle, so close to hitching over your hips. Your arms were still above your head as you heaved, your chest rising up and down. He remembered how they moved very clearly. The tightness of your dress didn't leave much to the imagination...

The sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor echoed through the tiled walls. He sunk down to his knees, his pants shoved downwards haphazardly. Somewhere in the back of his filthy mind, Ozo was aware of how dirty he was. Jacking off to the thought of you when you were so close nearby not once, but twice now. The other three times didn't count — you weren't anywhere near him at the time.

He sighed a breath of relief as his member was finally released from his boxers. It stood to attention, stiff and throbbing desperately with need. His hand closed around his shaft, first rubbing his thumb over the top, smearing precum over the head. Ozo bit his lip, the sensation already becoming too much.

Closing his eyes, he began to wonder what would have happened if it had continued...

He grinned deviously at the thought of you making the first move. You would grind down against his knee, whimpering at the feeling of him against you. You'd keep going, shivering and moaning for him, for more.

His hand slipped slowly down from the tip to his base, pausing for a moment before delicately tracing back upwards, repeating the motion a few times before steadily picking up the pace.

You would grasp at his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss, on his lips this time. He could practically feel your mouth against his, moving so enticingly against his own. But it would be a distraction. Your hands were always wandering, travelling lower down his body, hovering over the tent in his slacks...

Ozo threw his head back with a gasp as his hips stuttered in his palm. He tightened his grip over his cock, pumping faster at the thought.

You would handle him so nicely. He imagined that you would take control the first time, forcefully rolling on top of him and straddling his hips. You'd roll your hips against him teasingly, smiling down at him as you began to unbutton the upper half of his shirt, your soft hands rubbing against his chest. His own hands would come up to feel your breasts, weighing them in each palm and squeezing them between his fingers, loving the way you would bite your lip and moan so cutely...

"[Y-Y/N]..." he breathed. He was so close. His cock felt so heavy in his palm, twitching with each move of his hand, precum now leaking in thick streams down his length and over his fingers.

At some point, you had removed his slacks for him, your own panties thrown off to the side somewhere while he was busy fondling your tits. It was all moving so fast. You would pull up the lower half of your dress, showing off your hips and stomach before lowering onto him, inch by inch. You would have to stop half way, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. When you finally took all of him in, you would steady yourself on his chest, leaning down to nip and nibble at his neck as you began sliding up and down over his rod.

Ozo groaned, his vivid imagination conjuring up the feeling of your hot, tight walls constricting around him.

"Please..." He panted, eyes screwed shut as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

You would enjoy his begging, murmuring sweet, naughty words into his ears in that beautiful voice of yours, knowing just how much he liked it. You would ask if he was close, and you would tell him how close you were, too.

By now, Ozo was murmuring nonsense pleas under his breath as he stroked himself fervently, his climax just within his reach.

His mind went back to when he had you beneath him, your arms pinned under his strong hands and your flushed, reddened cheeks. He loved the way you spoke his name then.

"O-Ozo!"

With that final thought, he tipped over the edge. His hips bucked rapidly into his hand as he came, using his other to quickly catch the spurts of cum he was releasing, the sticky substance coated his hands in a thin sheen. He whined and moaned breathily, gritting his teeth as he fought against calling out your name over and over again as he came down from his high.

He took in a shaky breath, his body finally slumping over as the tension left his body. Sitting still for a few moments to catch his breath, he carefully stood up, leaning against the cool wall to support himself on wobbling legs. He washed his hands, using a tissue to clean up the rest of himself. Buckling his pants up again, he caught his own reflection in the mirror.

His hair was the only thing slightly out of place. He could sort that our easy. Straightening out his collar, he shot a wide grin to himself before leaving the bathroom, hands tucked into his pockets as if nothing had ever happened.

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Osomatsu - A Promise I'll Break

𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳!𝘖𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶 𝘟 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

"What do you think of death?"

The question was very sudden and out of the blue. You snapped your head over to the man beside you, sat casually in his seat with a steaming coffee mug in hand. His eyes, glowing a vibrant green, stared inquisitively at your tense figure as he sipped at his beverage, the skeletal mask that covered his lower face removing itself eerily.

"I...I'm not sure what you mean.." It was the truth. With a being like him asking a question like that, there could be a few dark undertones that you wished not to uncover.

"Well, y'know.." he gestured lazily with his free hand, black mist swirling around him in an unearthly manner. He didn't belong here. "A lot of people seem like their scared of death, finding it to be a horrifying journey that the naked eye can't witness.." he chuckled at that, allowing a shiver to run up your spine, "But sometimes, people see it as a blessing, in a way. A person's spirit can finally leave this world in peace."

He turned his gaze back to you.

"So, what do you think of it?"

You stared adamantly down at your own clear drink. Your fingers were enlarged under the water's image, pressing tightly against the glass. Small bubbles of air filtered around the liquid, rising to the top before bursting all to quickly.

"I'm not sure, sir.. It is true that it can be.. terrifying, staring death in the eyes," you shuddered again, "But I do have hope that there is something waiting for us.. A happier place, maybe."

The man hummed, leaning his head back to the stair at the ceiling, his brown hair flopping back over his scalp. Suddenly, he sat up straight, pointing at you.

"I told you to stop calling me 'sir!" You jolted, carefully manoeuvring your glass so that your water wouldn't spill. "C'mon, what do I have to do to at least get you to call me by my name? It's not hard! Say it with me: O-so-ma-tsu!"

With him being who he was, you would have thought that he would act more mature —wise, even — but he had no such personality traits. He instead acted like a man child in desperate need for attention, specifically from you. You hated it, because it meant you had to see him more often around your workplace, which only served to unnerve you. And he was either oblivious to this, or chose to purposefully ignore it.

You glanced over to the clock, eyes lighting up at the time. You swiftly stood up after swallowing down your glass of water, grabbing your coat and bag from the coatrack.

"You're leaving?" he frowned, swivelling in his chair to watch you. You barely spared him a look, unable to force yourself to stare back into those gleaming green eyes.

"Yes, my shift is over for today."

"Ah, I see... But don't forget!" he called after you before you could leave the room. "We have 'graveyard' shift tomorrow!" he grinned, watching you tense up at the shoulders.

You were outside the room now, facing the empty hallway, except it wasn't empty. Ghostly figures slipped past you every now and then, there skin and clothing wafting through the air like silk, although it wouldn't feel like the material at all, should you touch it. You knew that first hand.

"Safe travels, [Y/N]." was the last words you heard from him that night as you shut the door behind you, clutching at your bag tightly as you wove your way through the hauntingly empty corridors. All you wanted to do was go home.

»»-----　♔　-----««

The air was colder than you had anticipated, your fingers and face feeling numb to the cool night air. You sighed heavily as you finally made it inside the hospital, quickly making your way over to the staff room, where you knew he would be waiting oh-so eagerly for you.

As you turned down a hallway, you came to a sudden stop, barely preventing yourself from crashing into another nurse turning the same corner. You both jumped back with a noise of surprise, wide eyes regarding one another before relaxing.

"Oh, hey [Y/N]," the nurse chuckled, holding a hand to her chest. "You're on duty now?"

You gave no response, staring at something over her shoulder. She raised a brow as all colour seemed to drain itself from your face. "..[Y/N]..? Is everything okay?" she turned her head over her shoulder, frowning as she found nothing there.

But of course she wouldn't see anything. She wasn't born with this curse. She should be grateful, to not be able to see the decaying face of a remaining spirit, hovering over her with its jaw unhinged and eyes filled with nothing but darkness. You bit back the urge to vomit as it raised a rotting hand, shoving its jaw back into place with a sickening crack.

"Uh... Maybe you should get some water. I'll.. see you tomorrow, [Y/N]." The nurse left you quickly, and you knew she was looking back at you with odd glances. She would probably go and tell everyone else what had happened. You could practically hear the conversation already:

'That new girl is so weird, staring at nothing! It's like she's seeing things! She should get herself checked out, maybe she's not all good up there.'

"[Y/N]?"

You jumped, whipping around to find Osomatsu staring at you blankly. His cape-like jacket flowed behind him as he came closer to you, stopping just in front of you. His eyes flickered over your shoulder before returning to you as he tilted his head.

"You good? You were kinda just standing there."

You stammered for a moment, turning to look behind you and, to no surprise of your own, finding no spirit floating there like it was before. You sighed quietly, feeling a headache already coming on.

"I'm.. fine."

"..Good!" he smiled, walking past you with a beckon of his hand, " 'Cuz we have a lot of paperwork to get through and pass out, so let's not waste any time, yeah?"

Of course he wouldn't actually care for your wellbeing. With a twitch of your eye, you begrudgingly followed behind him, keeping your head low and ignoring the want to cover your ears to block out the ugly groans and wails of those others couldn't see. You wished you could be like them.

As soon as you sat down in that swivelling office chair, you willed your mind to switch onto autopilot, wanting to zone out the rest of the night as much as you could and get lost in your work. It would be easier to deal with the terrible hours you were having to endure. But no matter how hard you tried, this particular night seemed to want you completely aware of everything that was going on around you.

You were constantly jumping in your seat as spirit after spirit wandered in and out of the room, their whispering calls and cries for their loved ones ringing in your ears for minutes on end. The temperature in the room seemed to drop lower than room temperature, making you shiver. Not even the steaming mug of coffee beside you warmed you up.

And then, there was Osomatsu, who was supposed to be helping you, but was instead whining about everything that came to his mind, blabbering on non-stop and even snickering at you whenever you had a scare. It irritated you greatly, but you were also afraid. You couldn't exactly say anything back to him — not if you wanted your life ripped from you in the blink of an eye.

Just when you thought you had just about enough of it all, he spoke to you in a more serious tone.

"Y'know, I've heard some things about you."

You froze in your seat. You knew where this was going. This was the absolute last thing you had wanted.

"Well, I heard stuff about you before you even started working here. Word spreads real fast, don't you think?"

You grip on the computer mouse tightened. You needed him to stop. Talking.

"But you know how rumours are. You can't exactly trust them, seeing as how everyone just ends up twisting them to match their own ideals. So I figured I'd just ask you directly — makes things easier."

There was a moments silence, the sound of a chair squeaking beside you as he leaned forward in his seat becoming deafeningly loud in the quiet space.

"I heard that you working here has made it your fourth transfer this month."

"How did you—?"

"They say," he cut you off, cat green eyes locking onto your own coloured orbs as you turned towards him, "That it's because you say you're seeing things. Someone even said it's because you weren't deemed 'suitable' to work at a couple other hospitals. The things that you say you've seen... aren't exactly kid friendly, are they?"

You bit down on your lip hard. His lower face was obscured by that mask again, with its skeletal jaw and raw bone outlining the glow of his eyes dangerously as he grinned, as if he had struck gold. The scythe he always carried was resting across his lap, glinting under the light, a reminder of just how close death was to you.

"I.." Your voice wavered, hesitant to tell the truth, but you knew deep down that he probably already knew it, for a lot longer than you thought he did.

"It's not.. my fault.." you sighed, lowering your face into your hands and digging the heels of your palms into your eyes in a poor attempt to keep your tears at bay, the stress now catching up to you, "I don't want to see these.. these things all the time, but they won't go away.. they're everywhere.."

"What do you see?"

"...I see things like you." Your heart began to pick up speed as it thrummed in your ears, close to bursting as you finally plucked up the courage to speak.

"Things — no, people, that aren't alive anymore. Spirits, spectres, ghosts, whatever you want to call them. And —... And reapers, like you," You shuddered, "I can see it all. Wherever I go, they're always following me.."

Osomatsu still hadn't given you a response, and your worry spiked. You didn't want to open your eyes to witness another angry reaper, ready to chase you out of another job. The last one had almost caught you. You couldn't go through that again.

"I know who you really are, Matsuno," you still refrained from using his 'real' name, "But I swear, I'm not here to get in your way! I'm just here to do my job as a nurse, I want to help people! I don't.. I don't mean to disturb you. So, please... Please don't try to get rid of me. I really need this job.."

"Why would I try to get rid of you?"

You paused.

"The last reaper I ran into.. didn't like me all too much.." you grimaced at the memory. "He thought I was trying to save the souls he had to reap, and he chased me away from the hospital. I can't go back there, even if I wanted to.."

Osomatsu chuckled softly.

"Sounds like little Ichimatsu, alright.." he mumbled to himself, whilst you were too busy staring at him, bewildered that he had just laughed at you. Was this all a joke to him? You really hoped it wasn't.

He leaned back in his seat again, resting his arms behind his head in a relaxed position. Grinning at you, you watched as his mask and dark clothing slowly dissolved away, revealing the usual male nurse uniform that others had always seen, and you had rarely seen on him.

"I had a feeling you were an odd one," he hummed. "Ever since you stepped foot in this place, these old wisps have been gravitating towards you like a magnet."

"I'm sorry," you blurted. "They always seem to attach to me. I don't mean for it to happen—"

"I know, you don't need to start blubbering over it," he raised a hand. "If anything, you always want to just get away from them, and that's enough for me to know that you're not gonna ruin my own little gig I got here, too. So, how about we strike a small deal?"

He held out a gloved hand, still keeping that cattish smile plastered over his lips. You cocked a brow, suspiciously eyeing his outstretched palm.

"You promise to me that you won't get in the way of my 'work'," he used his free hand to make quote marks over the word, "and I'll promise not to mess with you either. Deal?"

"...It's not just you who messes with me here," you reminded him, just in time to catch another spirit wander into the room. It stared at you blankly for a moment, hollow eyes staring deep into your soul, then shifted over to Osomatsu before leaving again.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes as he groaned. "I'll make sure neither I nor the other spirits in this place mess with you. Is that better?"

Something deep in the back of your mind was screaming that it wasn't better. Trusting a reaper of all things was a bad idea, and making a deal with one was even worse. But, as you stared into his gleaming eyes, what choice did you have?

"..Just peachy.." you slipped your hand into his, the cold of his flesh seeping into your warm palm as he shook it twice firmly, his smile widening and showing off his shrunken fangs.

"Y'know, I have a feeling things are gonna get a little more interesting around here, now." You grimaced, snatching your hand away from him.

"I hope not."

"Ugh, you humans are all so boring.." he whined. You ignored him, turning back to your computer. As much as you hated admitting it to yourself, you couldn't deny that the weight on your shoulders had lightened just a small bit, enough for you to breath without having that constricting feeling in your chest.

»»-----　♔　-----««

Osomatsu should have known something was wrong.

A smooth four months had sailed by since your deal, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying your presence more and more as the days went by.

The one day where you didn't come in for work, though, he shrugged it off. Even when he had overheard that you hadn't called in to give any reasoning behind your absence, he didn't think too much of it. Humans were weak things compared to him, after all; if you needed a break, then he wouldn't dwell on it any longer.

That single day turned into two days. Then those two days turned into three days. Then those three days turned into three weeks.

Osomatsu grew more agitated by the day. His mood was visibly worsening, snapping at anyone when they would tell him they didn't know where you were. He didn't understand why he felt that way. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so angry at the fact that he didn't know where you were. The deep pit in his stomach was telling him that something bad had happened. He should be worried.

But why should he be worried? You were a human. You were weaker than him, had less of a lifespan than him, so what if you could see spirits and random shit like he could? He was a reaper, an all powerful being that could suck the soul out of your body with a single tap of his scythe. Why should he care about what's happened to you?

He shoved those feelings deep into the back of his mind, attempting to erase them as quickly as he could. He didn't need these insignificant feelings getting in the way of his work.

It wasn't enough, though.

No one had expected to see you come into his hospital room, wrapped in numerous bandages and heavy casts on your right arm and leg. Your bruised eyes were shut closed as a small patch of stitching made itself clear on your left brow, your breathing deep as if you were simply sleeping, but he knew it was so much more than that.

Just one look, and all those feelings came bursting to the forefront of Osomatsu's mind as he stared at you in bewilderment.

"She came in last night," someone was telling him, but he wasn't focusing on them. "She was taken from her home about a month ago, and was beaten pretty brutally. We're still trying to figure out why and how this has happened, but until she's feeling well enough, she'll be under your care, Matsuno."

Whoever was speaking to him left the room not soon after, leaving you and Osomatsu alone. He was still staring at your battered form, eyes shifting from a muddy brown to a fluorescent green as he eyed the glow around your body. It was flickering, significantly dimmer than the last time he had seen you —back then, you were glowing.

His black clothing slipped itself over his uniform like a shadow, a hood falling low over his forehead as his mask settled onto his lower jaw, lips pressed into a firm line as he grasped his scythe. Stepping towards you, he hovered his scythe over your heart for a moment before shifting the sharpened tip to your temple, tapping it once as the bright hospital room fell away into darkness.

»»-----　♔　-----««

You stared down at the flowing white dress that had draped itself over you. Rubbing the material between your fingertips, you barely acknowledged how soft it felt before letting it fall to your side with a sigh.

The luminosity of your dress was the only thing to stand out in this darkness that surrounded you. You felt as if you had walked in circles trying to figure out where you were, only to realise that you weren't moving at all. It was a perpetual loop, never ending, never beginning.

You sat yourself on the solid ground beneath you, tucking your legs close to your chest as you rested your chin on your knees, arms wrapping around yourself in a feeble attempt at comfort.

You knew what this all meant. Your end was coming soon, and all you could do was wait for that end to come for you. You began to wonder who would come to take you, and a brief image of a familiar face came to mind before you waved it away.

Having him see you as you were now — feeble and vulnerable — was nothing short of humiliating for you. On top of that, you really didn't want his face to be the last thing you would see before you... left. It would only make things harder.

You didn't know if time existed wherever you were, but you felt as if you had sat there for a lifetime, occupying yourself by tracing over the scattered bruises over your exposed arms from your dress. You couldn't feel the pain, but you knew it was there. How long had you endured all of that for? You lost track of the days a long time ago.

The sound of footfalls echoing around you in the vast blank space made you perk up. Not seeing anything to your left or right, you turned around, hand pressing to the cool floor as your breath caught in your throat.

"Had a feeling I would find you here," Osomatsu jested as he stood casually before you, leaning against the mantle of his scythe with his free hand resting in his pocket.

"Are you here to.. take me away?" Your quiet voice amplified itself in the silence, reaching his ears easily. He seemed to contemplate this question, eyes squinting as he peered at you, taking steps towards you before he knelt down in front of you.

"It is my job to do so, but right now..?" He ran a hand through his hair under his hood, chuckling weakly, "I don't know."

You lowered your head, unable to look him in the eyes, now for many different reasons. You flinched at the feeling of his fingers pressing under your chin, lifting your face up to look at him once more as he scrutinised the markings on your face. It became unsettling to watch his face fall blank, a slate of no emotion whilst he gazed at you.

"..I've heard different rumours this time," quoting himself from all this months ago. How you wished to go back to those times. At least it was easier to live than it was now. "Somebody took you, and somebody hurt you." He traced his index finger up, over the curve of your cheek to the arch of your brow, barely brushing over the cut that had rested there. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know.. They wanted me for my 'gift'.." you spat the word out with a scowl, "But does it matter?" You looked away from him again. "If you're here to take me away, then hurry up and do it already."

"Why are you so eager to end your life here?" Osomatsu tilted his head.

"Because what else do I have out there?!" You yelled in frustration, tears finally rolling down your heated cheeks. "Even if I live, there's not going to be anything waiting for me! Everything keeps getting worse and worse — I can't take it anymore!"

"And yet you're still here."

"Because you won't reap my soul—!"

"Because you still want to live."

He stood up, reaching for your wrists and pulling you up with him. You stuttered as he pressed your firmly against his chest, his hand forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Do you think I just take whatever soul I want whenever I want to?" He huffed a laugh at you, wiping away a fresh tear with the pad of his thumb. "I take souls who are ready and willing to die. And for you, that's not the case. If you were truly willing to die, I would have taken your soul the minute you were brought into this hospital."

Staring up at him, you found it hard to look away a third time. Even as your vision blurred his features together, you could still point out his eyes. You had never noticed how pretty they were like this, glinting like cut jade, shaped and moulded into perfect orbs.

"I know I made a deal to you," he mumbled, eyes half-lidded as he clutched you closer, "But just this once, let me break it. Let me get you out of here."

"...Will you be there when I wake up?"

He laughed louder this time, the vibration of his voice rumbling through his chest.

"I'll be there for as long as you need. Or until you get sick of me."

You let out a watery giggle. You were sure that you were past that stage.

It was odd. A mere few months ago, you had despised being in the presence of this reaper. Yet now, you were clutching onto him tighter than ever as you nodded along to his proposal, wanting nothing more than to drown yourself in his comfort as you found yourself in a hospital room, blinking up at the ceiling.

YES

[ 2. ]

Ichimatsu shut the door behind him with a sigh, removing his gloves and tossing them into a trash can nearby. He rubbed at the back of his neck, half-lidded eyes glancing back to the door briefly before turning away.

"How'd it go?" Osomatsu had seated himself in his chair, watching his younger brother lean on the wall across from him. Karamatsu was sat to his right, and Choromatsu to his left, both equally curious as to how the treatment had gone.

"..She's all patched up."

"...That's it?" Choromatsu deadpanned. "That's all you're gonna tell us?"

"How is her condition?" Karamatsu rephrased. "What are her injuries?"

Ichimatsu shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze stuck to the ground. A familiar ginger cat slinked into the room, twisting itself around his legs before settling down beside him. The comfort of a close friend made Ichimatsu feel slightly more at ease.

"Her right wrist is sprained, and her left shoulder was dislocated," the brothers winced, "Luckily, she didn't get any broken ribs, but she was probably close to it. She's got bruises and swelling, mostly around her neck and upper body, and skin burns from the rope. Her lip's busted, too, so it's got some stitching. And..."

He cut himself off with another sigh, shuffling his feet around. Osomatsu raised a brow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"And' what? What else is there?"

The silence was tense, and much too long for the men to sit through. Choromatsu's leg began to bounce slightly as he waited for an answer, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

Ichimatsu fiddled with his earring, flicking the golden hoop a few times before running his hand through his curvy locks.

"She's.. also got loads of scars. They ain't fresh, either."

"Scars..? From what?" Karamatsu pushed. Ichimatsu only shrugged.

"Dunno. But there's a shit tonne on her back. Big ones."

The brothers looked at each other wearily, unsure of how to react. It was already bad enough that you had been taken hostage and beaten to near death, but now this?

Osomatsu stood up suddenly, eyes closed in thought.

"Well, it's not like any of us don't have scars. So it's not a big deal."

"Osomatsu.." Karamatsu sighed. Sometimes, his brothers didn't realise how insensitive they could be.

"Whenever she wakes up, let one of us know, it doesn't matter who," he continued, nodding to Ichimatsu. "We'll get the questions out of the way so that she can rest."

Grunting in affirmation, Ichimatsu headed towards his small tray of medical supplies, moving them towards a sink in order to clean off the blood. Your blood. Osomatsu left, and Karamatsu followed not soon after, wanting to take a breather out on the balcony.

"..You're still here."

The statement caught Choromatsu off guard for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. He raised a brow to his younger brother, leaning back into his chair and whipping out his phone to go through absentmindedly.

"Yeah." He replied shortly, leaving no room for argument as he focused back onto his phone, scrolling through random social media and notifications. Ichimatsu glared at him before going back to his task.

Choromatsu glanced at the door. You were behind it, laying on a bed, sleeping soundly through the pain. For now.

The same feeling as before came bubbling up to his throat, filling his senses with a sort of worrying feeling. He grit his teeth tightly. If he was being honest, he didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. Ever since he laid eyes on your broken form, the feeling wouldn't go away.

This was bad. Very bad.

And yet, he stayed in his seat. Waiting for you to wake up so that he could see you first.

——————☠︎——————

[ —

You were remembering a time where the sun was bright, and the grass beneath your fingers was a vivid green. There were mumbled words echoing around you, and you looked towards the hazy sky, a plain azure stretching as far as the eye could see.

There was a ball in your small hands. Its canary yellowed stripes across the white background gleamed brighter the longer you stared in confusion, unsure of what you were supposed to do with it.

Your name was called, distorted and far away, carrying itself in the wind until it reached your ears. It was telling you to throw the ball towards them. Somewhere ahead of you. The sunlight reflected into your eyes, removing your ability to see who was there.

But you threw it anyway, putting all your strength into your arms, eyes screwed shut in determination. There was the sound of the hollow, plastic ball bouncing along the ground until it came to a stop. There was laughter, drifting further away from you. Your lower lip curled into a pout — why couldn't you see where it was coming from?

' You did so well! '

Where had you heard that voice before?

' Come here, throw it again, sweetheart! '

Okay, you thought to respond. You felt the buzz of words on the tip of your tongue, however your mouth failed to move. Regardless, your stubby legs stumbled forward, arms reaching out to grasp at whatever had hidden itself behind the veil of light, fingers curling and unfurling around nothing but air. The sky was fading into a pure white, obscuring your view, yet you pressed onwards.

You were becoming desperate now, calling out for whoever was there. Their name was on your lip, resting right on the edge, you knew it, but it didn't fall. Your throat was tightening as tears of frustration welled in the corners of your eyes. The luminosity was becoming blinding, and the grass no longer tickled at your skin. Your eyes fell closed as you felt the warmth of the sun dissipate, the air becoming colder and more frigid.

Where was the voice? Where was it? Where?

Silence greeted you as an old friend. You found yourself unable to move, arms stuck to your sides and legs tucked under you as they became numb. You had opened your eyes and you still found darkness. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, thundering against your body as you held your breath.

You were sure you had called out for that voice. There was no response. There was never a response.

A deafening clang of metal sounded from behind you, and your heart had now leapt to your throat, mixed with a sickening concoction of bile that threatened to spill if it was pushed just enough.

Deep footsteps, weighted and unwavering. They rounded your left, stopping in front of you, too close for you to be comfortable with. The muddied boots that were now in your vision suddenly and unexplainably terrified you. What could be so frightening about a pair of boots?

And then, when an unforgiving hand grasped at your strands and lifted your face upward ever so slowly, you realised. For it wasn't the boots that terrified you, but the one who was wearing them.

You were sure that the bloodied smirk on the face in the shadows was the last thing you would see before death became permanently splintered across your cheek.

— ]

Your cheek throbbed painfully as you snapped your eyes open, pupils contracting dangerously thin as they darted around the unfamiliar room.

A cold sweat had made itself known as you shuddered, coating your skin in goose-bumps whilst your tried to find your bearings.

That same light bore down on your eyes painfully, the burn making you flinch to keep your eyes closed, but you knew you had to keep them open. You had to know where you were. You had to know what was going on.

Willing the fog of confusion to remove itself from your mind was no easy feat, and the heavy breaths that left your chest heaving made you all the more lightheaded. Your vision began to blur, your teeth gritting in shame. You hated crying. You didn't want to cry anymore. Tears, however, have minds of their own, and they made that clear as they traversed down your temple and clung to your hair, some even making it down to your lip, the twinge of salt making you grimace.

It hurt to breath. Every inch of your body felt as if it were on fire, prickling and feverish, in desperate need of relief. Your parched throat begged for a sip of water, but your arms were still restricted from movement. Your left arm in particular felt rigid, with only your fingers being just about moveable.

Sudden flashes of memory that supposedly lead you to your current position appeared before your eyes. The gruesome feeling of bones cracking and blood bursting from your torn skin made you squirm. You didn't want to go through that again. You would do anything to not go through that again.

The room around you was morphed and irregular, the double vision that swirled your eyes together faintly fading in and out. You could barely make out the shape of the rectangular door in the far right corner of the room, it's golden handle glinting ahead of you.

It was then that you heard the numerous garbled voices sounding from the other side of the door. With each pump of your heart, they got closer and closer, your panic increasing at the thought of whoever it was entering the room.

It was too late, though. The handle had already begun to turn, the small crack between the doorframe growing larger, enabling the voices to now be heard clearer in your ears.

There were three men, none of them looking your way as they seemed too preoccupied in the conversation they were having. A small whimper escaped your throat at the sight of unfamiliar people coming close to you, and you struggled harder to move away from them, knowing all too well that you wouldn't be moving anywhere.

You came to an immediate halt as their heads turned to you synchronously, watching you with slight surprise in their eyes.

They hadn't expected you to be awake so soon. Taking your dishevelled appearance — from the tangled mess of hair on your scalp to your torn clothing and bandaged limbs — one man stepped forward and away from his small group. He slowed his movements upon seeing your chest rapidly rising and falling, your swollen lower lip wobbling with worry.

Your mind vaguely registered the gentle smile he gave you, raising his hands in surrender. Your eyes trailed down the beginnings of a blue scale-like tattoo on his upper arms, disappearing under the black shirt he wore before reappearing on his exposed chest.

"We aren't here to hurt you, my dear."

His tone was low, gently reverberating through your nerves. The soothing baritone in his voice calmed you for a short second, and you watched as he crept closer to your bedside, not stopping until he hovered over you. His dark eyed swept over your injuries, thick brows furrowing as he looked back into your eyes.

"Do you remember your name, flower?" Lowering his voice to a murmur, he waited patiently for an answer. You cast your sight towards the other two men in the room, who were stood silently by the door, watching you. One of them appeared to be scowling at the man beside you, whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep. He caught your eye before turning away, the frown on his lips tightening further.

Speaking was a difficult task in itself. Your throat was parched, leaving your tongue dry and voice croaky. You stammered your name out as clearly as you could with a small nod of your head, shuddering pained gasps as your lips ached with each formation of words.

The man's smile returned, relief evident on his face as he moved away from you. He wasn't speaking to you now, but to the men at the door.

"I feel it would be best to sit her up," he gestured to the bed you lay in.

"...Don't put too much pressure onto her." The man with his curling locks tied back into a messy ponytail and tired eyes mumbled brief instructions, not making a move to leave his spot. The man beside him sighed with a tut, grumbling as he made his way to the left side of your bed.

You eyed him warily, looking back to the tattooed-man for reassurance.

"You're safe here, darling. No harm will come to you here," he spoke to you whilst manoeuvring his larger hands under your back from the left. "We only wish to help you."

The sincerity in his words rolled over like honey, oozing sweet kindness and glowing golden. Tears sprung to your eyes once more — you could trust this man.

Once they had you sat up (with only a small amount of struggle to not hurt your further), a glass of water was held close to your lips, the tattooed-man urging you to take a sip. You wrapped your lips around the rim of the glass hesitantly, but as soon as the first drop of cool water fell down your throat, you began gulping down the drink in one go, desperate for that cooling relief on your throat and mind.

The man settled the glass down on the bedside table before taking a seat in an empty chair behind him, crossing one leg over the other as he took a deep breath.

"[L/N] [Y/N]," he began. You looked over to him in worry, his serious tone making you expect the worst. "If it's alright with you, we would like to ask you a few questions."

...Questions? You tilted your head slightly, shuffling your back against the large fluffy pillows resting behind you.

"About what..?" Your voice was doing a lot better than before, still holding a slight rasp in your words. You cleared your throat as discreetly as you could, unable to cover your mouth as your arms felt so heavy.

"About the events you have just been through. You do remember what happened to you, yes?"

The very mention of recalling such memories made you visibly shudder. Nodding hesitantly, you concluded that you couldn't exactly get out of this. You were stuck there until they decided to let you go, and until then, you would just have to go along with what they asked.

'Who knows what will happen if I don't listen..' you thought, an undertone if bitterness lacing into your mind.

"Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order." He placed a hand over his chest, bowing his head politely. "My name is Laamcung. Pleasure to meet you, my sweet." The continuous use of pet names baffled you, unsure as to why he kept using them on you, but you brushed it aside for the sake of not pissing him off.

There was a moment silence before Laamcung sighed. He pointedly looked towards the other two men by the door, who rolled their eyes at him.

"Ceoicung." The man wearing a black V-neck t-shirt quickly spat his name out, not even bothering to look at you. The one beside him, with the curly hair and golden hoop in his ear, seemed to shrink into himself as all eyes turned to him. He appeared to want to be anywhere but in that room.

"...Zicung.." you were barley to catch his name with how low he had mumbled it. Laamcung sighed, smiling apologetically to you.

"My apologies, dearest. My brothers aren't exactly the best at formal introductions, but I assure you, they are nicer than they appear to be."

You didn't entirely believe him, but it was better to nod along and not question anything at all. You briefly acknowledged the fact that they were brothers, realising that it only made sense, seeing as they had very similar faces. Triplets weren't too uncommon.

Laamcung readjusted his legs, switching from his right leg resting over his left to his left over his right, pressing his hands over the curve of his knee.

"I understand that you may not feel comfortable recalling such events," Laamcung began, "But I must ask you to tell us what happened. From before you were kidnapped to when you know it ended, and anything that you think could have lead to you being a target. All of this information is vital, angel, so I must implore that you tell us everything that comes to mind."

The pressure placed back onto you mentally was heavy. He was right, it was going to be extremely uncomfortable for you to talk. You didn't know if you could do it.

"..Hey. We don't have all day."

Zicung's rough growl of annoyance made you shrivel up, forcing yourself to swallow your nerves so as not to tick him off.

"Zicung." Laamcung sent him a stern glare, silencing his brother with a word of warning. You saw Ceoicung dig an elbow into the man's rib, keeping him quiet. "Take your time, [L/N]. Ignore him, there's no rush."

Nevertheless, you wanted to get this over and done with. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you kept your eyes glued to your left arm, apparently finding the sling and bandage around the limb to be very interesting as you spoke.

"I don't know how I got there... Nothing out of the ordinary has happened before I was t-taken, so I don't know what could have led to this happening.." you furrowed your brows. It was the truth, and the more you thought back on the day before your kidnapping, the more you became confused. Why were you a target? Was it because you were an easy catch? Was it because you were a nobody, so it wouldn't cause a big fuss? Why, out of the thousands of people in Cekcung, were you taken away from your normal life and thrown into this hell?

"All I know is that I went to bed like I always do, and the next time I woke up, I wasn't at home anymore."

The three brothers glanced at one another. It all sounded like a simple coincidence, then, that you had been a victim to their enemy, Reznov. But if they knew the sly man, then they knew that it was anything but a coincidence. He always had a motive, whether it was complex or downright stupid, it didn't matter to him — a motive was a motive.

"Has anything happened to you throughout this week, then? Or even before that?"

"..I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you mean."

"Have you done anything to piss anyone off." Ceoicung was now the one to cut in bluntly. You chanced a glance up to him, and upon finding his narrowed eyes boring down onto your face, you decided to stick with looking at your bandages. Hmm, yes, this bandage was so interesting to you.

Your mind reeled back to yesterday, then the day before, and then jumping to the week before that, your brain filling with images of merging memories of anything you could think of, before you stilled.

There was something.

"...I think so."

The brothers raised a brow to you, leaning in slightly to catch onto every word you were going to say.

"I run a small bakery, and that day about a week ago, I hadn't gotten much sleep, so I was out of it for most of the day.." the more you spoke, the more that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach seemed to grow. How had you not noticed it before?

"I kept making a few slip ups here and there while I was working; I just couldn't seem to concentrate very well. But luckily, a lot of the customers that came in were regulars, so they didn't really say anything. Until, this one customer.." You struggled to remember his face for a moment, the first thing you remembered about him though was that he was tall, almost tall enough to brush his head against the short ceiling in your shop.

"He ordered something, and I must've messed up the order, since he suddenly started yelling at me once he opened the box. I was so tired, though, so I wasn't really paying attention.. I don't remember much of what he was saying, and he just got angrier.."

You remembered him slamming his fist down hard onto the counter top, the way the change in the cash register clattered loudly in its metal box ringing in your ears.

"All I remember him saying is... I-Is.." your throat closed up again, and the urge to bury your face into your hands was strong. Squeezing your eyes shut, you recalled what he looked like, now. His features were all to familiar. Especially that same, dark, twisted smile he had sent your way before he made his way out of the shop, muttering the words that had allowed you to get caught up in this mad, crazed world.

'Looks like I found myself the perfect ragdoll to play with.'

not a post but ososan ep 18 has me in PIECES WTF Y U GOTTA DO MY BOI OSO LIKE THAT HE WAS SO GOOD AND NOW HES JUST IDEK SDIUFGAWUFAU