#I love how weird this series seems on paper

[iamsonormalaboutninjago]

Ninjago plots but written in the most questionable way possible. Inspired by a post I made earlier lol

In order ✨

(Tw, a lot of implied themes that could set off triggers)

Old man tells you you’re special and takes you to his house to meet other special teens

Four men fight over a onesie

Child is trained to fight his dad

AI Satan is defeated by autistic AI

Old guy makes special people fight for entertainment (gone wild)

Emo steals the body of a child to get a diamond

Pirate from ancient times needs to marry a teenager for power

Twins steal Steve Jobs and make him invent time travel

Princess turns main characters dad into a zombie

Four teenagers raise a baby while being hunted by Trad goths

Zombie warns his son of doomsday and it happens

Old man screwed over a snake as a child so she banishes his adoptive son

Scroll convinces teenager to start a genocide

Video game got too immersive then got daddy issues

Evil king enslaves trolls in the middle of their race war

30 year old man tricks natives into human sacrifice

Power hungry octopus decides to enslave a god, prompting a teenage girl to become water

Satan revives the dead princess tries to turn everyone into zombies, prompting a zombie and his son to become demons to stop him

Evil queen needs to kill dragons to power her city, then tries to tear apart reality

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 2

I didn't expect such a warm reception, but I'm so glad you guys all liked it!

Your kind words inspired me so much so behold the next part!

Warning for spoilers up to 4.6

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

It all started with a dream.

Well, a lot of things start with dreams, but this one was an actual, asleep in bed, REM cycle dream.

Well, at least you thought it was. But that's neither here nor now. 

It was, to your unending embarrassment about Genshin Impact. 

Now there’s absolutely nothing wrong with likings something so much that you end up dreaming about it, it’s just slightly humiliating when you as a person is not someone who dreams a lot and your first actual proper dream that you can actually remember past the first twenty minutes after waking up is about a fictional 2D character vowing to love and care for you.

Ever so slightly humiliating.

You'd've preferred it if it was an actual person because at least that way you knew you had a crush on a living human being rather than having a parasocial relationship with a giant block of code and text. 

Actually, can you have parasocial relationships with fictional humans?

Not the point,

This started with a series of extremely weird and slightly embarrassing dreams about Iudex Neuvillette.

Actually this started when you C6’d him.

Honestly, you did not expect to get anywhere near this lucky, especially since your past luck has been average to low in terms of wishing for characters.

But with him, 

Well,

It wasn't quite streamer luck, but you did not have to spend any monetary funds to achieve your goal. 

You did have to skip quite a few Fontanian characters, and grind out all the region’s exploration, but you’d say it was well worth it.

The night after you’d gotten that final constellation, you had the aforementioned weird dream.

You weren’t in the dream per say, as you didn’t seem to occupy any physical space, 

you well.

The best way to describe it would be a movie scene. 

You watched as the man, dragon, stood on a balcony. 

The moon’s rays reflecting off of this silver chalice, you could only assume filled with another one of his fancy waters. 

But it was his gaze that caught your attention.

It’s cheesy to say, but you’ve always been drawn to the man’s gaze. It was always so sharp, so intentional.

He knew what he was looking at and he did so with reason.

But now, at this moment.

It was unfocused, hazy. 

His gaze was not focused on the moon, nor the city lights.

He did not stare at the landscape of Fontaine, nor the glittering waters beneath.

But, he saw you.

You don’t know how you knew, but you did.

You didn’t hear what he was saying, nor could you make out the words his mouth was forming but you knew that it was a call, a call for you.

It was odd but flattering and confusing, but a deeper part of you crooned as his sentiments. A part of you you didn’t realize you had was rising to the surface.

“My child,” it crooned, “my dear Hydro Dragon,”

Neuvillette seemed to startle at that.

You knew you didn’t make any sound, you didn’t even have a body, but somehow he heard it, heard you.

His face flushed, hand grasping at his chest as his murmurs seemed to grow faster.

You didn’t know what was going on anymore, simply that this rising feeling in your chest was growing and growing. 

It was scary.

It was alien.

Feelings that were not your own, moments of clarity and nostalgia flash through you, connecting to nothing but faceless figures and a deep sense of regret and loss.

What is happening,

A part of you that you didn’t know about, that you’ve never felt.

Is this what it feels like to be possessed, you recall thinking faintly before sinking into darkness.

~~~

The Iudex of Fontaine stood above all in the courtroom.

With the destruction of the Oratrice Mechanique D’analyse Cardinale, his word and judgment were the last line holding Fountaine to its standard of justice and order.

On paper, he seemed to have it all as the youths may say.

But his identity as the Hydro Dragon may deter from that.

It is already isolating enough to be the Iudex of the nation of Justice and Hydro, but to be the only dragon, were it not something that he had spent his entire lifespan balancing, he feared he could go mad from that.

There is a sense of irony in that.

Focalors's plot put both he and Furina in the highest positions in all of Fountaine, and in turn made them both the most isolated as well.

Although, at least she was released from her duties after the job was done.

While he was and forever will be grateful for her contribution in saving Fountaine, there is a quiet part of him that he’s tried very hard to bury, that is green with envy. 

He understood Focalor’s reasoning, after all, once their act was done Furina would be able to live a normal human life and he would be able to regain his powers and authority as the Hydro Dragon. 

That was as much as she could do for him, from her limited position.

He was grateful.

But,

His brethren, his kin.

They did not have the same freedoms granted to them.

While he did not have many memories of what happened to the previous sovereigns, nor of his life before the arrival of the Primordial one, he knew that they were most likely sealed away, deprived of their rightful power and authority.

It is his duty as the Hydro Dragon to render judgment upon the Usurpers that massacred his brethren and sealed away his kin. To uphold the standard of justice he has worked so hard to maintain during his rule as Iudex of Fontaine.

He once saw a quote in a popular novel that was making the rounds. “To become God is the loneliest achievement of them all,” whilst he does not recall the contents of the book, the sentiment of the line rings true, especially now that he has regained his authority.

While he and Furina did not spend much time together whilst they were performing their duties, she was a constant presence that he knew was always there. Much like a tree you would pass by everyday on your morning commute, or the singing of birds at dawn. An ever present figure whose loss is sudden and to an effect irreplaceable. 

He finds himself missing her, sometimes.

Not that he dares let Sedene and the others know, else they’ll enact some kind of plot to get him to go out and meet more people. 

But there was a comfort in knowing that she, just like him, was alone in their positions and would serve Fontaine to the very end.

Not that he dares disturb her well earned retirement, nor does he wish to retire himself. 

It was simply,

A shame.

The melusines were the closest equivalent to his dragon kin that he has had over the centuries, and will most likely continue to be for many to come. For as much as their presence filled him with happiness, they do not, and he hopes never will, understand what it truly means to be a dragon.

To be the last survivor of the original people of Teyvat, crushed under the heel of the Usurper king and their shades. 

To have to live amongst their people, knowing that while humans are innocent, their creation was built upon the bloodshed and suffering of his people.

There is a unique sense of cruelty in her actions, he reflected, fitting for the successor of one of the usurpers.

Whilst he has no doubt she meant it as an honor, taking him in, raising him to the highest scene of this land, giving him the highest seat of power and eventually returning to him his authority after watching her death.

There were moments, especially when he first took on the mantle and was trying to prove himself worthy of the title, that we would stare out at the people of Fountaine and wonder why he was doing this.

Humans were the reason for the destruction of his people. The Usurper King, sought out this world and destroyed it and it’s civilization so that a new one could be created in place of it. So that humans could be created in place of it. 

Human are the reason why his people, why the dragons were destroyed, they were the reason behind all the suffering and pain his kin have gone through and yet.

Yet they were still innocent.

They did not participate in the war.

They did not ask to be created.

They did not deserve to be punished for the sins of their creator.

However that does not make it any easier to stomach.

There is a peculiar sense of humiliation, to be worshiped alongside those who have destroyed your brethren. To serve and protect the beloved children of those who caused him and his people great harm.

It is a cruel and angry part of him that he does not dwell on much.

He cannot, lest it overrule all his rational sensibilities.

Humans are not inherently cruel beings. They are curious passionate creatures who love and care for each other deeply, who are compassionate and curious at their very core. 

Whilst during his reign as Iudex, he has seen a great deal of human cruelty and evil, he has also witnessed selfless acts of kindness and compassion. 

It is the duality of human nature that strikes him so. He cannot blame them for acts they are innocent of, but neither can he proclaim them to be free of all responsibility.

Truly the most vexing case he has ever dealt with.

Especially since,

Neuvillete frowned as he rubbed at his chest, feeling where the small spark of divine blessing lay within him. 

As the reborn Hydro dragon he does not have access to all the memories of his previous incarnations. As such his knowledge of the previous Dragon Sovereigns and the Creator of Teyvat remains incomplete.

But what he does know, what he does remember, is warmth.

The same warmth that now resides in his chest and on his very self.

He does not remember having many interactions with the creator of Teyvat, knowing that the greatest of interactions lay between the Fromitable Dragon Father himself, and the creator of this great realm. 

 He had assumed that they had abandoned Teyvat, abandoned the dragons. He’d have preferred that to be in case rather than the harrowing alternative of their defeat and possible imprisonment at the hands of the Usurper king.

But deep in his heart he knew that not to be the case.

“A creator cannot abandon their world”, King Nibelung had proclaimed, their Dragon Father was the one who knew the most about their creator after all, he had no reason to dispute such a fact.

 Worlds are much akin to terrariums, whilst on the surface it may seem completely self dependent and a skilled enough botanist may even be able to create one that can last years without any need for direct intervention, but even terrariums need light.

They require the sun to nourish its plants and create the water cycle, for all it may seem self sufficient it requires the energy of the world outside it’s glass container. 

That is very much the situation of Teyvat.

For as much as Teyvat seems to have taken care of itself, the world is breaking. Ley lines disorders have become more and more common, abyssal energy roams around, attaching itself to unsuspecting creatures. Bodies of dead gods spread harmful miasma around, polluting the earth.

If the creator wanted to destroy Teyvat, it would be as simple as cutting off the power of the Leylines, putting out the sun, or any myriad of actions that would destroy this very world.

They did not, instead they still provided this terrarium with bits of light. Enough for it to survive, but not enough to thrive. 

They still cared enough for Teyvat to sustain it, but not enough to intervene when it so clearly was struggling.

The creator he knew was not like that, they took no pleasure in toying around with others.

The only explanation for this was that they lacked the power to give Teyvat the help it so truly required. 

That realization was horrifying.

Nauvillete could only sit and wallow in his own helplessness as he watched the situation in Teyvat decline over the centuries.

Until,

Well,

Until the Traveler,

The witness from beyond the stars.

They have been given a great many titles in their journey through Teyvat, and have undoubtedly more than earned all of them. 

What he did not realize, is that they also had another title, unbeknownst to all.

A title given by a presence beyond all that they’ve encountered.

A title that they most likely did not even know of themselves.

The Creator's ∎∎∎∎

They carried the essence of the creator within them, it was clear they were beloved, it was clear that they were back.

The creator had come back.

And they were kind.

A part of Neuvillette feared that they would be much like King Nibelung, furious and desperate to do anything to drive out those that did not belong on Teyvat.

Perhaps they were at some point, but it seems that that point is not now.

The Traveler that acted with their blessing was kind,

They cared for those around them, human and non-human alike.

But they were not naive, willing to dispense justice upon those who deserved it.

If this was the person the creator chose to represent their will, perhaps their return will be much more peaceful than their disappearance.

Neuvillette had contented himself with that thought back then, throwing himself into his works as he had to deal with the threat that was the prophecy.

Little did he know that with time, the creator would bless him in much the same way.

The same blessing that sits in his chest at this very moment.

It has been months since he had been blessed as well as the completion of the prophecy. A selfish part of him wished that he would receive more since then.

Through his investigation he has seen many others, being blessed just as he had, gaining strength and power beyond their previous limits. 

But they were not dragons.

They were not the creator’s original creation, their children.

Is it unfair for him to hope that he’d be treated differently. 

Perhaps, the age of dragons had long passed already, and humans have dominated so much of this world that it is hard to deny that they are the driving force behind Teyvat.

But still,

He hoped,

He prayed,

Until,

The skies glowed.

Not the stars, mind you,

The sky

It was akin to the opposite of a solar eclipse, the night turning into day.

A surge of energy filled his body.

Not like when he regained his authority, that one was a wave of pure power cascading upon his person, placing responsibilities and burden on his shoulders alike.

This one was kind, gentle, hopeful, excited.

Is this what it feels like to take drugs, Neuvillette thought faintly.

Synth was incredibly popular on the market for its ability to create unprecedented euphoria in its users. If this is what those people felt then he understood why they were willing to go to such methods to achieve this feeling.

“My child,” the power crooned, wrapping itself around him, embracing him with all the tenderness of a loving parent,

His mouth formed the words he could not bring himself to say,

The power purred with reassurance, erasing pains and aches that he didn’t even know he had, before fading from his body.

His arms reached out in desperation, hoping to capture that feeling again to no avail.

Their presence was gone,

But their blessing remained

It certainly remained and it was stronger than ever, this power surge he feels is akin to receiving his full authority once more. 

Whilst many worries and doubts he had about the future still remained, one thing was made clear.

He was beloved, he was wanted, and the creator would keep him safe.

~~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~

Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments and feel free to send me asks about it as well!

[cherriegyuu]

crossing the line | two | kmg

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff (ish) word count: 3.7k warnings: smut (18+), minors do not interact, oral (male receiving) kissing, swearing part one

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

Mingyu ➝ Paper RingsI hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this↳ Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked ion his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night.

Ever since he was a kid, Mingyu had this sort of life motto: regret nothing and own up to the consequences of your actions. And for twenty-six entire years, he managed to do just that. Of course, there were things he wished he could have done differently. However, once something is done there is no going back. He could apologize for it, had it been a mistake, or he could just move on.  And although he didn’t regret a single moment of the night he spent with you, the owning-up part was a little trickier than he had expected.  

Mingyu was sure that your reaction would be bad, he knew that you’d get scared. But he thought that you would stay back so the two of you could talk. Or, at the very least, follow through with what you had said to him. Tomorrow morning, we go back to what we are, was what you said. But when morning came and Mingyu finally woke up, you were no longer in his bed. The only thing left of you was your perfume on his pillow.  

He figured that he should give you time. You got scared and that was normal. He had known you for four years and he knew that you weren’t the kind of person who enjoyed changes. You loved your routines and being inside your bubble. It was a surprise that you had let him get close to you at all, even more so when both of you grew attached to the other.  

Chan said that it was weird but he and Soonyoung were happy that you were finally allowing yourself to just be freer.  

Mingyu wanted to be that person for you but was it so bad that he also wanted to be more than? 

Truth be told, Mingyu had been interested in you since the moment you met. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all interested in him so he didn’t press you. When you opened up to him and allowed him to get closer to you, he was dating someone else.  

It was around the same time he started to let himself be touchy with you, like he always was with all his friends, that he noticed that the way he first felt about you didn’t change or disappear.   

He had been idiot enough to stay with his girlfriend, thinking that maybe he was reading too much into what you were doing. Then his girlfriend started to get uncomfortable, the fights started and they just broke up. 

Though he didn’t feel nearly as heartbroken as he made it seem, Mingyu let you nurse him through his breakup. You’d sit with him for hours, his head on your lap while you played with his hair. 

“I think you’d look great with long hair,” you said randomly one day. 

“Why?” he looked away from the tv, eyes focused solely on you.

“You’re disgustingly handsome. I think you should try”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Mingyu started to let his hair grow and he was too lazy to get a proper cut so you were the one cutting his hair for him. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about this, you told him while he sat in the middle of your bathroom. 

It was physically painful for him to hold back from touching you. Mingyu was well aware that if you got scared you’d just run away from him and there was a high chance of him never seeing you again. And that wasn’t something he wanted. 

Desperate moments call for desperate measures. He needed, God help him, Soonyoung’s help.

“So, how long will you keep avoiding Mingyu?” Soonyoung asked when you set his coffee in front of him. 

Your lifelong friend had asked to meet you once your shift was over, and you agreed. Much to your surprise, he had gotten there an hour early and was now just bothering you.

"Shut up and drink your coffee"

"Come on, there's no one here. Sit down and talk to me"

The problem with working at a café that had a homely feel was that your friends, honestly just Soonyoung, thought that they could just pretend that it was your own home. 

"I'm working"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"At your brother's café," he tugged at your shirt "Sit down, humor me for a second"

With a sigh, you dropped your body on the couch next to his. 

"He asks about you every single day, you know? He said you guys fought, so he's giving you time. But I don't think he will be able to hold himself back for much longer"

You pinched your nose, your heart suddenly aching at his works. 

Truth was, you missed Mingyu. Desperately. You regretted leaving his side the moment you closed his apartment door but you also couldn't bring yourself to go back.

You figured that you should give yourself a little time to understand what happened and maybe get it sorted out in your mind. But you couldn't stop thinking about him, about the way he kissed you — so tenderly, with so much care, as if you were something precious that he would never give himself the luxury of breaking. 

His touch was engraved in your body, just thinking about it made your skin electric. Mingyu was the first thing you thought about in the mornings, the last thing on your mind before you drifted off to sleep. He found ways to sneak up on you when you least expected it.

He texted you every day like he normally did, but you left all of his messages on read. You had been obsessed with your notification bar for the past three of weeks.

Though your actions said otherwise, you were scared of facing Mingyu, terrified that things between the two of you would change. 

"Tell me what happened" Soonyoung nudged you with his knee "Maybe I can help.  You know I always have killer advices"

There was no way you'd tell Soonyoung you slept with Mingyu.

"We just fought, it was stupid" you shook your head.

You watched in complete distress as the two working wheels inside his brain moved. Soonyoung went from furrowed eyebrows that said this fucking dumb girl to wide eyes.

"You guys fucked!"

You pressed your hands to Soonyoung's mouth, looking over your shoulder to make sure that your brother was still in the kitchen. Soonyoung kept his eyes wide open, his words muffled by your hands.

"Shut up!" 

He managed to push your hands away, looking over your shoulder before leaning on the table with his forearms, his voice barely a whisper.

"You're an adult, I'm pretty sure your brother knows you have sex from time to time"

"He doesn't need to know with whom" you pushed his head back. 

"Well, at least you're not denying it"

It would have been stupid to deny it when you felt as if you were walking around with a sign that said I slept with my best friend hanging over your head.

"Listen, I'll be as honest about this as I possibly can. You guys like each other, and have for a very long time. I mean everyone thinks you're dating" when you started to shake your head, Soonyoung rolled his eyes "I can count the amount of times I've hugged you in the past ten years. Twenty, if you're wondering. One for my birthday and one for yours, which I always have to force you to do"

"yn, you're not someone who's very into physical touch, which is fine. But with Mingyu? You guys touch each other the whole time, anywhere. The only time you guys weren't all over each other was when he was in a serious relationship, which mind you, you cried over"

Soonyoung was a fantastic friend, always. Despite his loud personality, at least around your group, he gave advice quietly. He never made a big deal of situations, he never went around screaming your secrets away. But in that moment you hated how much he was able to read you, like the only thing hiding your feelings was a thin glass wall.

"I didn’t cry" you sighed, dropping your head to the table.

"Sweetheart, you sobbed. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with you"

Soonyoung had laughter in his eyes, and at that moment he reminded you so much of the boy you met in high school. He had changed so much, from the way he dressed to the way he behaved. But still, somewhere inside, he was the same kid from ten years before.

"What are you afraid of?"

Of a life without Mingyu, was the only answer you had. 

You met Mingyu for the first time at twenty-two, fresh out of college, scared of life. You hated your major, marketing, and hated your job too. Mingyu had been a breath of fresh air, with wide eyes and a beautiful smile. 

It was always hard for you to let people close. You were just too shy and introverted but ever since Chan introduced you to Mingyu, you enjoyed his presence. He was always too much. Too tall, too large, too loud, talked too fast. But whenever he spoke to you, his voice was a little quieter, softer somehow.

Mingyu was larger than life itself and you were afraid you were too little compared to him. 

He was out there with his fancy corporate job, a financial manager, while you worked at your brother's café. It was what you wanted, yes, your shit degree had some use and you got to test out recipes with your brother. It was a much simpler life than the one Mingyu wanted.

"We're too different" you whispered, blinking away your tears.

You wanted Mingyu, not just like your best friend but in all ways one can have someone. You wanted to be able to kiss him whenever and do all the romantic shit you had seen people around you do.

"You're not and even if you were, what's so wrong about that? Don't people say that opposites attract?" he patted your hand "Won't you rather regret a decision than spend your life wishing you could have done something different?"

Soonyoung's Words still echoed through Mingyu's mind hours after they spoke on the phone. 

yn thinks she's not enough for you.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do with that information. How he was supposed to convince you that you were more than enough? Not just that, that you were the only one he wanted.

As soon as he ended the call with Soonyoung, Mingyu had gotten up from his desk, ready to call it a day and go after you. Everything else could wait. There was nothing more important than you to him. 

It didn't seem to matter to his boss though, as he not only made Mingyu stay but also work over hours. Managers make their own schedule, my ass. It was already past midnight when he got inside his car. 

It was too late to go to your place and try to talk with you.  It was almost the middle of the night and Mingyu wanted to have a clear head to speak with you. He needed to be the most eloquent version of himself so that he could lay out in front of you, all of his cards, and hopefully maybe have you back in his life. Even if you were to remain just friends. 

So he dragged himself home, feeling defeated once again. Three weeks of no contact with you had been pure torture. His messages were read the night before, which gave him a little bit of hope, but still, he didn't get an answer. His phone calls were obviously screened. 

"Fuck" he cursed turning the lights in his living room on.

Mingyu rubbed his eyes to make sure that he wasn't imagining things. Because there you were, sleeping on his couch

In complete silence, or at least trying to be as quiet as possible, Mingyu took off his shoes and locked the door behind him. He never took his eyes off of you, scared that maybe if he looked away or even blinked you'd disappear.

He kneeled on the floor by your side, his hand immediately going to your face. 

Ever since you met Mingyu, four days was the longest period of time you went without seeing each other. Six hours was the longest you went without talking. Needless to say, those three weeks had been hell, both for you and him. 

You had been stubborn and Mingyu was determined to give you space. It was a lose-lose situation. 

“yn” he whispered your name.

Slowly you opened your eyes. And god, how much had he missed those eyes. Mingyu found out, very early on, that your eyes held all of your truths. You went about your life thinking that no one had a single clue of what was going on through your mind — and for the most part, you managed to succeed. But there were moments when you allowed him to see all there was to you. 

And maybe that wasn’t your intention but your eyes gave away your truth. You missed Mingyu, desperately so, just as much as he missed you.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” you said pushing back a yawn.

Mingyu smiled at you, his hand on your head, lightly massaging your scalp.

“It’s okay, it’s really late”

You nodded, eyes closing again.

“Can you lay with me?”

You tugged a little on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Yeah, give me just a minute”

Mingyu leaned down and kissed your hair quickly before standing up. He got out of his working clothes and grabbed whichever comfortable ones were closer to him. With a blanket in his hand, he went back into the living room. 

You scooted back onto the couch, your back pressed against the couch, giving Mingyu enough space to crawl in by your side. 

As soon as you felt Mingyu’s body next to yours, you wrapped your arm around his waist, getting as close to him as you possibly could. 

With a content sigh, Mingyu nested your head against his neck, his lips never leaving your forehead. 

It didn’t take long for him do fall asleep too.

You were the kind of person who didn’t like sleeping in places that weren’t your bed, your home. In fact, you had a really hard time sleeping in unknown places. And yet, wrapped in the warmth of Mingyu, you felt as if you had slept for the first time in weeks. 

You missed Mingyu like crazy and craved his touch each waking minute of the day. 

You tilted your head back a little, to look at him. How you managed to go three weeks without him was unknown to you. But now that you were in his arms again, you would never let him go again. 

Even if that night had changed everything or nothing at all, you decided that you wanted Mingyu in your life in whichever way he was willing to be. 

Talking with Soonyoung had helped, more than you could have imagined. He walked you home that night, going over with you through everything that you felt, and why you decided to bolt in the morning. His answer was for really smart people, both of you are dumb as fuck.

During the entire day, you built up the courage to go to Mingyu and try and see if there was anything salvageable about your friendship. 

Mingyu stirred awake, his arms tightening around you, causing a small laugh to escape your lips. 

“What?” he asked, voice low and raspy. 

“You’re squeezing me”

It wasn’t a complaint, in any way, shape, or form. You liked the feeling of him all around you, almost way too much.

“It was intentional”

He squeezed you again, shifting on the couch and pulling you on top of him. His eyes were foggy with sleep but it was easy to spot the same thing you saw that night. The emotion you refused to acknowledge then. 

Longing and adoration. 

“Sorry, I left that day. I freaked out” You shook your head, pushing his hair from his forehead. You wished you could be more vocal about all of it, have prettier words for him "I thought that if I stayed our relationship would be over because I don't think I can go back to how we were before that night. I…"

You groaned and hid your face on the crock of his neck.

“I like you” you admitted quietly “I have for a really long time now”

Scared, you looked at him.

"I want it all with you, yn. I've liked you from the start. So can we, please, stop pretending that there isn't anything more than just friendship between us? We’ve had our fair share of miscommunication, missed opportunities, and unspoken feelings. Our friendship is everything to me, but I can't ignore these other feelings anymore”

His eyes never left yours. His emotions weren’t hidden in his sleeve, they were on full display for you. Everything that Mingyu was, he showed to you without any reservations.

So, instead of giving him stuttered words, you pulled his face close to yours, capturing his lips into yours.

The kiss was the same as the ones from the other night but also entirely new. That night you were friends testing the waters, entering unknown territory. In that moment, though, you were more. 

“I missed you so much” you whispered against his lips, trailing soft kisses down his neck. You felt his semi-erect cock under you, his hands on your ass “So much, Gyu”

“yn?” he asked as you moved lower on his body.

“I never got a chance to do this that night”

You kept on moving down over his body, nails lightly scratching the exposed skin of his lower stomach that was uncovered by his shirt. In one swift movement, you pulled his sweats and boxers down, revealing his cock. 

“I can never predict you,” he said with a laugh “Two seconds ago we were confessing, and now, look at you”

You ran the tip of your finger over the length of his cock while looking at him, trying your best to keep a neutral face.

“Do you want to talk some more?” you asked, voice sweet.

“Looking at you, all quiet and sweet, no one would ever… Jesus, fuck”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, taking him as deep as you could in your throat. You stood still for a second, eyes still on Mingyu watching his reaction. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Slowly you started to bob your head up and down, one of your hands on his balls as the other held the base of his cock.

“Fuck, yn” he moaned. 

Mingyu snaked his hand on your head, fingers gripping your hair and slightly pulling it, while forcing your head down on his cock, making you moan in exchange. You pulled your head back, licking his tip and small drops of precum. You felt him twitch as you teased his tip with your lips and tongue, your hands pumping him up and down. 

Another moan left his lips, louder this time, followed by a grunt.

Abruptly he pulled you up. 

“If you keep going, I’m going to cum in your mouth”

You smiled at him, which made him moan again.

“That’s what I was going for” you complained, kissing his neck, hand going between your bodies, running down once again, until you reached him. 

“But I want to fuck you” he whispered against your ear, biting the sensitive skin.

Mingyu took your lips in his, his hand still on your hair. Without ever breaking the kiss, he stood from the couch with you in his arms, pushing his pants and underwear past his ankles. The pieces of clothes lost somewhere in the hallway.

“I’m going to stock this entire goddamn apartment in condoms, every single room” he grunted as he dropped you on the bed “Pants off”

“Aren’t we bossy” you teased with a laugh, but still complied “You too, shirt off”

He rolled his eyes at you, pulling his shirt over his head. How many times had you ogled his body over the years, watching the transformation of going to the gym every single day? And now he was in full display for you.

“I want to ride you” you whispered.

Mingyu didn’t complain, settling against the headboard of the bed.

“I’m all yours”

Something in the way he said it felt real, final. He was yours and you were his.

You climbed up his body and took his cock in your hand again, pumping him once, then again, before angling him under your wet pussy.

Slowly, painfully so, you lowered your body,  taking every inch of him in. You moaned, feeling full of him. Mingyu reached over and pulled your shirt off too.

Lazily you started to move up and down, deliberately so. 

“Baby, you have to go faster” he moaned, pulling your face close to his, nibbling on the skin of your neck. You knew he would leave a mark, and so did he, but you didn’t mind. 

Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hips with both hands, firmly holding you as he started to move his hips up and down, faster than the pace you were willing to give him. You wanted to torture him, but he could do just the same to you. He smiled when you clutched onto his shoulder, head tilted back.

“Ah, Mingyu, fuck” you cried “fuck, fuck, fuck”

He moved one of his hands, his thumb pressing over your throbbing clit, mercilessly rubbing in circles. 

“Ah… oh my god”

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” 

He pressed harder against you, hips moving faster. The sound of his skin hitting yours was loud, dirty, and enticing. 

“Cum for me, baby, all over my cock” he whispered.

With a cry, you felt your pussy clenching around his cock as your orgasms took over you. Your entire body shook as you held onto Mingyu, biting his neck while he fucked you, thrusting to the hilt, again and again, until he too found his release.

You pulled back slightly and kissed him.

“Give me two minutes and I’ll eat you out”

You laughed and pushed his face back.

“You don’t have it in you, big boy”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @mhlsymlysn, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @tomodachiii, @roguesthetic, @everyw0nu, @jj-ever-lovely-jewel, @bloomyroses, @bsshjsjsn, @sujiwonhao

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[drvscarlett]

Let Him Cook pt5

Charles Leclerc x MasterChef! reader

A/N: I'm really so happy with all the love that you have given to this fic. I enjoy writing about it, let me know if you have any blurbs or scenarios that you wanna see. This series will continue on and on

Let Him Cook Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minseok-smaus @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej @weekendlusting @janeholt3 @evie-119 @leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13 @itsjustkhaos

lec lerc challenge

"As you all know by now, Charles is planning to launch his own ice cream store"you started talking to the camera "And you know what funny story, he didn't even tell me"

Charles, who was by your side, was laughing like a hyena. He actually wanted it to be discovered on the the first day of April so everyone might think its a prank but then he will announce that he is very serious about it. It was an elaborate prank on top of prank. However, the news sites got a hold of it earlier.

"That's another story time. We have to get down to business" Charles reeled the topic back to the video that you two are making.

"Okay so in order to test Charlie's knowledge about ice cream, I have here ice creams that I made myself" you explained.

In front of the two of you were 10 paper cups. They have been covered on top so that Charles won't get a hint about the color.

"So my main task is to identify what's the flavor of the ice cream"Charles confirms "Easy"

"I made some unconventional flavors to throw you off" you informed him.

You can't help but giggle as you remember how you made some weird flavors for the ice cream. But hey, this was supposed to be a challenge to see if Charles' taste buds are working so it doesn't necessarily have to be a delicious ice cream.

"Okay, I am ready to scream for ice cream"

The first five cups were easy peasy. It's common flavors such as chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream, caramel, and pistachio.

"I'm good at this mon amour"

Charles is pretty confident now. Time to throw the curveballs.

"I'm excited for you to try this"you excitedly give him the cup.

Since Charles is blindfolded as he does this challenge, the first thing he does is smell it. He is usually confident upon spelling but the frown lines forming on his face suggest that he might be confused about the flavor profile.

"This feels strange. I smelled this before but I can't put my name on it"Charles notes.

He takes a scoop from the cup and tasted it. It was evident to his face that he didn't enjoy this ice cream a lot.

"That's so sour, mon amour there are definitely strawberries in that"Charles complained.

"Strawberries and?"

There was a string of italian and french word from Charles as he tries his best to identify it. Finally, he had a lightbulb moment where he remembered the taste of it.

"BALSAMICO" Charles screamed "That is not a flavor I will put in my store, definitely"

Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Y/NCooks turns out Charles is pretty good with his taste buds. Watch me test Charles with his ice cream skills [link]

User1 Atleast we know that Charles is committed to being an ice cream man

User2 Charles_Leclerc you should definitely try the bourbon and corn flakes in the menu

User 3 Highly agree, I would love to try that User4 were all acting like were so close to milan. Babes we live across the world.

LandoNorris do you have some plain ice cream left for me

Y/NCooks i have some but its good to try other flavors every now and then Lan LandoNorris mmm, i'll try that black sesame one. that seems like a good flavor Y/NCooks brilliant. message me when i can see you Charles_Leclerc im amazed how Y/N managed to convince you of different food choices

MasterChefAU is this Charles' entry to master chef blind taste test challenge?

Charles_Leclerc MasterChef Monaco soon??? User4 I'm laughing at the number of sidequest Charles has. SIR you are an f1 driver!!!

Charles the baker

Charles_Leclerc posted a photo.

Charles_Leclerc okay i did all the measurements right. WHY DID THEY EXPAND

User1 I can hear Charles screaming with the caption

User2 Charles is such a mood when I try to bake things

User3 But is it edible tho?

Charles_Leclerc it is but its not as pretty User4 this is an internet highlight wherein Charles is sulking and asking the internet where he went wrong

maxverstappen1 recipe reveal?

Charles_Leclerc no ✨✨ maxverstappen1 don't want it anyways. i just wanted to know what you did so i won't end up like that User5 MAX!!!!! User6 your honor we love the lestappen crumbs

Y/NCooks honey maybe you should consider giving it some space, bread do expand when they get baked.

Charles_Leclerc they do?? Y/NCooks Yes they do. But in all honesty they look so cute, its alright honey Charles_Leclerc love you mon amour!

SebastianVettel maybe we should have a baking session one of these days, I can teach you a lot about baking breads

Charles_Leclerc sounds good, miss you already Seb User7 oh to be Charles Leclerc having the Sebastian Vettel teaching him bread and MasterChef Y/N encouraging him

tiktok pasta challenge

It was a fairly simple tiktok viral recipe and in your mind its something that Charles will be able to follow instructions with. So you set up your camera and told Charles about a cooking challenge that he has to do.

"Today's challenge, Charles will be using his listening skills. Lets see how well he listens to me"you greeted the camera "Are you ready mon amour?"

"More than ever, I look good in an apron"

You stayed behind the camera as Charles stayed in front of the kitchen counter. He was tying up his apron and grabbing your chef hat from one of the drawers.

"First of all, I need you to quarter an onion"you instructed.

Charles was immediately grabbing the onion and you immediately face palmed yourself when Charles started quartering the onion without even peeling it.

"Honey, you are supposed to peel it" you sigh

"Honey, you didn't say anything about peeling it. We have three cameras set up and editors should replay that you said quarter it and not peel it" Charles argued

You raised your hand in defeat, you should have been more clearer.

"Okay, I'm not gonna be vague. I'll make it clear"

The whole cooking went along smoothly until its time for Charles to cook the pasta. He has been heavily stressing to get the texture right this time or else it will further the allegations that he can't cook pasta.

"Calm down Charlie"

"I am very very very calm, I'm just checking" he lifted the lid for the fifth time "They have to be perfect"

"Charles is very honored to be taught by Gordon on a 1 on 1 session"you informed the camera.

The two have exchanged numbers and Charles will often ask his culinary questions to Gordon when you were not available to answer them right away. Gordon seems to enjoy the new friendship with the driver since he often send Charles link for cooking recipe to try.

"I don't wanna be an idiot sandwhich" Charles muttered, stirring the pot of pasta.

Charles got a perfect al dente to his pasta. He pulls out the baked feta and tomatoes out of the oven then mixed it with the pasta. It seems as if the dish looks pretty especially with the garnishes that Charles insisted.

"Plating is also everything"he says to the camera as he grates some lemon zest to the plate "Whatever this taste like, just remember that Y/N was instructing me so if there is anyone to blame then its Y/N"

"Way to throw me under the bus Charles"

Y/NCooks just posted a photo

Y/NCooks The dish vs the chef. I think they are equally yummy [link]

User1 CHARLES CAN COOK!!!!

User2 alternative title charles stressing 10 minutes straight if the pasta is al dente or not

User3 The girlfriend effect on Charles is that he is now able to cook pasta

User4 I really want to try that pasta

Arthur_Leclerc i hope you never get tired of the pasta, its the only thing he will cook from now on

Charles_Leclerc i mean she loves it!!!! Y/NCooks its pretty good arthur, you should try it!! Arthur_Leclerc next family dinner? Charles_Leclerc im on it! User24 oh to be a fly at the Leclerc family dinner

User5 I think everyone ignored the caption, miss maam thirsting over her boyfriend

User6 if i was Y/N i would too Y/NCooks facts only!!! User6 Mother replied to us!!!

scuderiaferrari so charles is approved for a cooking challenge in the channel soon?

Y/NCooks he is born ready User8 kind of missed the c2 cooking challenges

everything i cooked

Charles_Leclerc posted a reel

here is everything that I did to celebrate Y/N's birthday. This isn't a common day, its really special so I have to run at 5 to get the flowers I ordered for her. Then next I cooked up breakfast which is some pancakes, thank you Carlos for the recipe. And then I surprised her with a little bit of breakfast in bed

and then I started making our lunch after clearing the table. Y/N had been craving butter chicken and I purposely did not take her so I could make some at home. Its a fairly easy recipe, I just had to mix some spices, cook the onions then you have the tomato paste and then cream. thanks Gordon I owe you one. She loved it so much.

and then I started early on the dessert for dinner. I didn't do the ladyfingers from scratch, I don't have a lot of time so yes here we are. The tiramisu is in the fridge. And then since Y/N loved the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti meatballs scene. I did my own take on it. Needless to say she loved it. So yes happy birthday once more mon amour, I love you so so much.

User10 I know we have been making fun of Charles but the man can actually cook.

User11 My boyfriend be forgetting my birthday but Charles here is slaving in the kitchen for Y/N's birthday

User12 CHARLES IS THE STANDARD!!! User14 Imagine cooking a whole breakfast, lunch, dinner, with a birthday dessert???!!! GOD I SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS

MasterChefAU Im glad to hear you are treating our girl well, happy birthday Y/NCooks

User13 OUR GIRL??!!!! Y/NCooks he is treating me well, thank you for all the greetings

Gordongram That's a beautiful dish and effort Charles!

Charles_Leclerc Thank you !!! Y/NCooks he is screaming btw Gordongram

PierreGasly when will you cook for me

CarlosSainz55 and me?? i think there is some former teammate privileges out here LewisHamilton the current teammate is also wondering SebastianVettel you boys are not Y/N. Y/N is special. Charles_Leclerc what seb said!!!

Y/NCooks one of the sweetest gesture anyone did for me. Thank you honey for making this day extra special. I don't need any five star restaurants when I have you in the kitchen.

Charles_Leclerc I love you. You deserve the world User21 Them your honor. User22 Happy Birthday Y/N, you two are excellent for each other

[luffyvace]

I need.....I NEED MORE SAIKI K X READER SHEWAS SCSKSB

I have been feed well by your small serie of saiki kusos x write reader 🤤

But may I request as saiki kusos w f!s/o who suddenly have makoto as a stalker?

(sorry if you don't understand this my first time requesting 😭😭)

AHHH IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED THE SERIES!!

that’s actually a great idea!! I’m super pumped to do this request! :)

Don’t worry I know just what ya mean!

⚠️stalking warning,⚠️ before I start, if I may 😵‍💫

💛

Saiki will know right away when he starts stalking you-

And ngl this is the perfect chance to get rid of him 😈🙏

just kidding! But seriously, he let go of all the times makoto’s annoyed him in the past, but now that’s he’s an issue with you? His girlfriend? The one girl he can actually tolerate, scratch that, loves??

yeah no buddy this one’s not gonna slide

unfortunately he cant punch him bc 1) Saiki’s too strong and 2) that’d draw a lot of attention to himself since Makoto is a celebrity

but what he can do?? Well, Plan A) pinch his cheeks till they hurt and threaten him, Upgraded Plan A) disguise himself then pinch his cheeks, Plan B) keep scaring the crap out of him every time he tries to follow you, Plan C) calmly talk it out with him that you two are an item, Plan D) tell Teruhashi and use her love for Saiki to his advantage, getting her to tell her parents and stop her brother, Plan E) Publicly expose that freak or Plan F) tell you you have a stalker if you haven’t noticed, and if you have, go to the police

wow! what well thought out plans! :) most of them won’t work

heres why!

upgraded plan A is better than just plan A but it will ultimately still draw attention

plan c is unlikely to work seeing as though how creepy that guy is, plus he doesn’t like Saiki

As of plan d Teruhashi can hardly stop him from being a creep to HER (😭⁉️) and i don’t know how well the parents will care, especially if he’s making them money..😟

plan e….seems like it would be successful..buuut i feel he would just use his celebrity status to will the evidence away, like speaking out about how he would “never” do that and doing charity 🙄 plus the fan girls probably won’t believe some rando who uploads that on the internet over they’re fav 😒

ngl plan F is really reasonable and has one of the highest chance of working, but yet again, the celebrity card will strike and he could pay off the police so they don’t do crap abt it 🤦‍♀️😑

therefore! Plan B it is! Seems the most likely to work + Saiki can get his revenge in a practically harmless way! :3

Thanks to his powers (for once 😭) no one is likely to believe even the Makoto when he says a flying guy dropped a pile of dog crap on him 😏🤷‍♀️

and even if they did when he tries to explain the full story he’ll have to keep lying to keep the lie of him not stalking you alive 👎

but he still will tell you if your unaware tho!

he’s likely gonna be hesitant if he knows you’ll freak about abt it but you deserve to know. And ofc he can always keep you safe (thanks magic powers, for being useful for once!) but he also would want your parents to know so if Makoto tries something they can have a lead.

so yes ultimately he tells you, likely at his house, in his room, and he tries to break it to you as gently as possible but…there’s no easy way to take that kind of info 😬😟

if you get scared or cry he’ll tell you his plan to make him leave you alone, and he tells you to tell your parents too. Essentially trying to console you

if you choose to trust him and react a bit calmer, maybe still worried, he’d ask if you still wanna go out in public knowing this, and if yes he’ll accompany whenever and wherever he can, especially since Makoto won’t wanna come up to you while he’s there, thinking Saiki’s your boyfriend

he is

Also If Makoto does anything perverted as far as taking sus pictures of you or imagining weird things with those photos he’ll rip them up and make the paper and random things fly around in his room, every time

He probably breaks his phones/cameras too, even if he buys knew ones, as punishment

onto the final battle!

let’s say your walking home from school and Makoto is following you, your boyfriend is close behind you both, monitoring the situation for a good chance to strike. First, you cross the railroad to get home, but Makoto has to fall back so you don’t see him, but when it’s his turn to go? Oh no! The trains coming! Where’d that even come from? there was no train?! CRAP!- huh? Wait..the trains gone..thank goodness?! 😭

oh wait! He needs to catch up to you! Well at least he knows where you live and what route you take through research! He needs to catch up! HOLY CRAP! What’s a mob doing here?! Did a fan see him?? How’d they find him..no way, don’t tell me they’re gonna find out what he’s doing..NO DONT COME ANY CLOSer…? They’re running past him? Well I guess he is in disguise..wait, they were running to this arch nemesis and top competition?! 😠 seriously?! That guy over him??

he proceeds to head over there to show the ladies who they should really be drooling over 😏 WAIT- HE CANT REVEAL HIMSELF RIGHT NOW?!- what?…where’d his wig go? THE WIND BLEW IT OFF?! HOLY- HE’S ABOUT TO GET FOUND OUT🫨 RUN 😭 🏃

aw man he’s outta breath, what are the odds the wind would blow his wig off near a mob of fans?! Now he’s gotta be extra careful following you! And it’s already late! Actually..it’s pretty darn dark….dang it! You’re probably in your house by now! Oh well…maybe you still have your window open and he can get some pictures that way! 👍

uh..is he starting to hear a second pair of footsteps..? But..no one’s around..why’s it getting louder..?! UH, it’s getting more aggressive now 😥….okay that’s it! he’s running..!

dang it! It’s chasing him! No way he can lead this creep to your house! (Ironic huh) he’s gotta take a wrong turn!

man! What time is it?! Midnight?! Has he really been running that long??? Why’s this freak still chasing him? And who is it?!?

alright! He’ll take a turn into that alley and lose ‘em! Then he’ll make a ‘U’ back to your house! Although there’s no way to be sure if your still up or not :/

hey! The footsteps are gone! Maybe think he lost him! Alright! He’ll take another turn and go back to your place!

🏃🏃

right as he turns the corner?

Saiki:👹

Jump scare!

he immediately calls his manager while running away, thinking he’s either a mass muderer, a demon or a stalker! 😱

and the best part is? Nobody will believe him 😊

ngl Saiki probably won’t let this slide even a couple days after he finds out Makoto’s stalking you, he’s quick to act and stop him bc no.

Super Saiki to your rescue! 🦸🤩😎

Ngl you’re beautiful so I see what Makoto sees in you but…..dude. Don’t stalk your crush.

🌸💐🌺

hope you enjoyed your hcs! -Brook

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

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

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

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

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

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

You shiver. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

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

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

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

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

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[bambisnc]

dreams come true? i sure hope they don’t. [ft. h.yj]

pairing : han yujin x f!reader <3 genre : so so crack. + lil bit fluffy cw/tw : uneditted + beverage mention + lmk if there r more sobs wc : 0.6k !! <3

“wait so let me get this straight- you like someone.. and instead of doing anything rational, or god forbid even half-normal about it; you’re trying out wikihow rituals to manipulate her dreams?!”

yujin at least has the decency to look sheepish. yeah okay so maybe he did have a crush on a certain someone, namely you, and yeah maybe he was a little too anxious to approach you.

and.. yeah maybe he happened to come across an article which taught him how to alter your dreams via a simple ritual. 

writing out the name of your ~beloved~ along with a detailed description of the dream you wished for them to have on a piece of paper, place 9 orange and purple streaked moonstones on it and crumpling up the paper – was, as the site declared confidently, enough to be able to make yourself a constant presence in the dreams of whomever you wished.

as long as he remembered to loudly announce the exact minutes for which he’d known the aforementioned beloved before starting, that is.

well, yujin thought, it seemed harmless enough.

except some part of him did consider it necessary to do a couple of trial runs. he wouldn’t want you to start having dreams of, say, student council member ahn yujin or that new girl choi yujin who had been a little too friendly with you these past few days. there were a lot of yujin’s around weren't there..

which is what lead to you having a series of rather odd dreams. and the subsequent amount of time you spent lowkey freaking out about them. 

“gyuvin i swear i wasn’t even thinking about greek gods at all before i fell asleep,” you vent to him one day at lunch, “but i was somehow a mermaid god or something?? AND hades, you know, the god of the underworld, was kinda beefing with me for no reason?!”

your friend who is unfortunately sworn to secrecy by yujin tries his best to distract you, “c’mon dreams are contractually meant to be weird; stop overthinking it! and besides-”

“BUT LISTEN when i woke up the first audio i heard, i think some video that yujin sent me, was about greek gods!! this has happened way too many times for me to put it off as a coincidence!!”

“i think you’re just delusional (like some other people i know..)”

you simply sigh out, “sorry, what was that?” not too willing to expend more energy in trying to convince him that your problem is very valid; and he’s just being very unsupportive of you right now.

"..." you suppose you'll have to make peace with the fact that your subconscious was probably just in a silly phase.

-

distant sounds of students leaving after evening classes, rustling of trees with a gentle breeze.. and a flick to your forehead?!

your eyes flutter open, more than eager to chastise whoever had thought it okay to break your comfortable reverie. but when your gaze lands on him, han yujin, you feel your complaints dying down. he’s holding out your favorite beverage to you; a soft smile adorning his face. 

before you can let out a single word though, there’s.. another flick to your forehead?? what do people have against you..

your eyes flutter open (again?), more than eager to reprimand whoever thought it okay to break your .. wait had you been dreaming just now? 

you find yourself with your cheek resting against a table. the one who flicked your forehead yet again appears to be yujin. 

his eyes seem to twinkle slightly as he says, “i thought we were going to get our science assignment done yn? or did you plan on doing it while asleep? i so did not expect this from yo-”

“hey.,” you interrupt, “han yujin. you’re free now right? wanna go on a date with me?”

safe to say that you received a very positive response, especially with his now-flustered appearance.

gyuvin really should learn to keep his mouth shut, huh?

notes : @mellowdyverse MAIIII here u go love <3 i hope this wasnt horrific im struggling tm w writers block + [m.list] + woah the coloured text is going crazyy js ignore that hehe <3 song rec : nightwalker by ten tho. it has nothing 2 do w this but its so yumi likee

[your-girl-mj]

whiney when drunk [1610!miles × drunk!reader]

summary: [name] drinks too much, and miles has to face its consequences.

warning: mention of skintone, but i think it was harmless. kinda cringe, but she's drunk, so what can i say?

note: based on a scene from "Hidden Love" when the girl got drunk. she/her for reader, he/him for miles

created: august 7, 2023

published: august 9, 2023

first part | second part

miles were in the middle of his homework, and the paper is consist with equations and small doodles on the side. his head booping at the music from his headphones, tapping his pen every now and then.

his work came to a halt when his phone rang and the music stopped. the device moves the slightest as it vibrates on the hard surface of his desk.

checking the caller id, a smile tugged his lips, seeing it was his girlfriend. "hola, mamí." he greeted his eyes, caught the clock, and it was already nine, almost ten. "are you finished hanging out? want me to pick you up?" miles asked, already standing up from his seat.

miles knew it was [name] and her friend's outing since they all passed their finals. she asked him to come as well, but he still needs to finish his homework for college. "..hello?" a slur voice erupts from the device, making miles frown his brows in confusion. he struggled to put his suit on with one hand as the other held the phone.

"[name], are drunk?" he frowned. It's not like he's not allowing her to drink. he just doesn't want her to get drunk and feel horrible in the morning after. and of course, especially when there are boys in her friend group. "you said you don't drink."

"...i don't." she answered before a little giggle followed right after. "i miss my boyfriend..." her hand was leaning on a table. her vision is blurry, and her body seems to be disobedient today and does not help her balance. "my... adorable spidey—"

"okay, okay!" he cut her off his nervousness are rising up at the thought of his girlfriend exposing his identity because she's drunk, quickly putting his jordans in a bag as well as things he knew she'll need, then rushing to get his keys. "don't drink anymore, okay?"

"mm.." she hummed, looking around the restaurant. picking a food from her plate and eat it. her head is too fuzy to think straight and following the first thing that comes to her mind.

"can you tell me where you are?" miles rubs a hand over his face, a little disappointed that she drinks a little too much than she couldn't handle.

"[adress.]" she said in a slow and low voice. her eyes were dropping as it was only two hours before midnight.

"wait there, I'm on my way." he puts on his mask and jumps off his window. his other hand still cling on his phone.

"whhhyy?" she squint her eyes, tilting her head before she soon feels like her head is weighted two times heavier and presses her temple on the cold surface of the table, resting it there.

her friends calling her name in the background, but she paid no mind to them, wanting to only hear her boyfriend's voice.

"because I'm going to pick up a drunkard." with that miles hangup. leaving a very confused [name] on the other side.

"a what?" she sat up straight, migraine swirl in her head making her massage her head. "miles? hello?" looking at her phone, the girl only saw her lockscreen of her and miles. [name] clicked her tongue, "you can come here and you'll see me, but when i come there, i won't see you." she frowns at the image of miles in her phone. "you're so weird..."

"i'll be off," she announced to her friend group, taking her bag with a drowsy action. as she stood, her feet were giving her a hard time to walk straight.

a series of goodbyes are heard as she slowly walked her way out. pushing the door with all her left out strength, it didn't budge as she thought it would. "girl, how much did you drink?" the voice of a friend came to her side, helping her pull the door open.

"i don't know.." she blurb out, "miles is going to..pick me up, you don't have to come.." [name] lightly push her friend back to the entrance. "have fun in there.."

"no, no, no. I'll get back when your boyfriend shows up," her friend insisted, holding her arm to steady her body. "you okay?"

"no," [name] answered, getting out of her friend's grasp and crouching down with her head leaning on her knees. "i feel like throwing up..." her voice coming out as mumbled, her friend slowly rubbing circles on her back.

miles, finally in his civilian clothes; jogged up to where the said place is. a sigh left him as he saw his girl sitting down on the floor with a friend by her side.

"oh, hey! you're here," her friend greeted, noticing miles, standing up straight. [name] leaning her body into her friend's leg. "it was a mistake to make her drink, we're sorry."

"nah, it's good." he nods, then meets his girl's eye level. [name] slowly lift her head up and meet his disappointed face. the girl only scoffed at him, frowning.

"who are you?" her eyes squinted as she tried to look harder and tried to figure out why he looked familiar. miles couldn't stop a chuckle to get out.

"your boyfriend." he answered, his negative feelings are now gone. he waved back to her friend as she made her way inside.

"no, you're not." huffing, she turned away from him. still sitting down on the street.

"then, i'm a friend of your boyfriend."

"no, you're not... i only know one."

"and who is it?" he started to get along with whatever she had in her mind. slowly taking her hands, and tried to pull her up.

"ganke, and he's asian.. and white." she mumbled, standing up as he pulled her. miles came to a conclusion that she'll be an easy target for kidnapping. "and you're not white..." she leaned her body into his, taking a short nap. her voice is now talking nonsense.

"no, i'm not." he laughed, slowly taking her arm and guiding her on the way to take a cab. his other hand held tightly on her waist, not wanting her to fall. "you're whiny when you're drunk." shaking his head, a smile still plastered on his lips

it only took a short while before she protested, "don't touch me," scolding him, [name] pulled away from him and sat down once again, "i have a boyfriend. and i'm waiting for him.."

miles are smiling ear to ear as she refuses to take his hand because she thinks he is a stranger, "but i'm your boyfriend." he sat down as well. it was a good thing they stopped in a park with no people around.

"you are..?" she tilted her head, looking at him clearly now. miles only replied with a hum, nodding. [name] took his face and observed it carefully. miles thought she's getting more adorable as second pass by. "miles!" she broke into a grin, squeezing his face.

"hey!" he lightly greets her, mimicking her beam. "you finally recognise me," placing his hand aboves hers, he caresses the back of her palm.

"i missed youuu!" [name] whined, the alcohol is taking major effects. as tears coming out of her eyes, pouting at him, "but you don't miss me.."

"aw, mamí.. i missed you every day. " bring her hand to his lips, and he kissed her palm. smiling at her with a lovesick grin.

"you don't..." she cried, taking her hand away; wiping her eyes. miles blink at her, confused why would she think that way.

"i do, [nickname].." he took her hands again, rubbing it gently.

"you don't." her face is flushed, hazy eyes are fighting for consciousness. "you said we're gonna— we're gonna have a date and then... you cancelled..again!" she started to cry for the second time tonight. her voice cutting off on its own as it was hard for her to talk while sobbing. "you don't love me anymore..!"

what makes it worse, her sobs made her migraine throb much more. miles can only feel guilt in his chest. he chose not to explain it tonight since he knows she'll not remember anything and that he can focus on taking care of her. but how?

his head was in a fuzz, not knowing what to do. is this why she doesn't drink? "i do love you, [nickname]." she cried even harder, making miles in a full panic. "don't cry, don't cry, baby..." he pulled out wipes from his bag and wiped her face gently. "...how much did you drink?"

"dunno'... it was on a small cup. hehe, cute cup.." [name]'s face is red from her cries and the effect of the drinks. she stays still as miles clean her face, "i feel sick..."

"i know you do, let it out. you'll feel better," her boyfriend pulled out a plastic bag and held it for her.

"no! it's disgusting..." her eyes are now close, her head bopping before miles catching and made her lean into him. "i love you..." she mumbled, nuzzling on his chest. a pout is still present.

"i love you too, [nickname.]" he kisses her forehead, giving her a tight embrace, rocking her back and forth in slow motion. the guilt is still present.

"kiss?" she perk her lips up, wanting to give her a peck. miles waste no time to fulfil her wish and give her a short yet sweet kiss.

"you taste like booze." he commented. she's so wasted that she can't even feel her own feet.

she suddenly opened her eyes at him, her lips started to wobble and started to cry again, "i'm sorry...! i didn't mean toooo!" she sobbed.

miles could only blink at her, and a chuckle escaped him. "it's okay, mami. you're okay," a snort followed.

[name] looked at him betrayed, "you're laughing..." this made miles purse his lip, taking all his might to not laugh. "you're making fun of meeee," she then layed down on the cold floor, lazily swinging her arms.

who knew booze can change a whole person's personality?

miles did his best not to laugh, "no, i'm not laughing, [nickname]," he took her hands and carry her to her feet, the boy is biting down a grin as she kept looking at his face, "i'm not making fun of you, it's okay you got drunk."

"but you're mad!" she throws her head back, huffing. her head feels heavy all of a sudden, and everything is blurry like before. miles was quick to put a support behind her head, confused by what she meant.

"mad? why would i get mad?" Scooping her by her hips and back, miles carried her like a princess. he made sure his girl was comfortable before walking, doing his best to not sway too much.

[name] snuggled into his arms as he carried her, "on the phone.. you're mad because i got dru...nk ..." her voice trailed off, slowly getting others taken by sleep, "but i love you so..." with that, she's finally sleeping soundly on his chest.

miles smiled at her, she looks so beautiful even with a rough night like this. kissing her forehead, he replied to her words. "yo tambien te amo, mi vida." [i love you too, my life.]

should i make a "morning after" part?

edit: morning after part <3 here

[vin-taege]

How It Starts, How It Ends

summary: a series of pivotal moments in your relationship with Chishiya, pre and post-Borderlands.

genre: some fluff, heavy angst, established relationship

pairing: chishiya x art student!reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: major character death, hurt no comfort, depression, possible spoilers for S2

First Meeting

"Look at this cute beetle I found."

The small insect gently crawled up your pudgy hand as you held it out. The boy in front of you didn't seem too impressed, responding with only a blank stare. You had always seen him by himself during recess and felt bad that he had to eat alone daily. The other kids were either scared of his dad or thought he was weird—but you minded no such things.

"Those carry germs. Some species of them even hiss or bite," he deadpanned.

"But not this one," you pouted, nudging your hands closer to him. "Look, I think he wants to meet you."

Truly enough, the beetle was inching its way off your fingers, seemingly heading towards the stoic boy. He glanced at it before looking back at you, then he sighed. He didn't think he could get rid of you, so he'll entertain you for now.

"I'll pet it, but I'm not gonna hold it."

"Deal!" 

The way you beamed at him made him feel weird, like something was stirring in his chest. Interesting, he noted.

"I'm ___," you smiled, watching him swipe his finger back and forth the beetle's shell.

"I'm Chishiya."

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Date(ish)

"I'm about to implode."

Chishiya looked over your notes and let out a snort. Almost everything was highlighted and it all looked like one big splotch of spilled ink on paper. You ignored him, opting to rearrange your home-made flashcards instead. 

"Physics isn't that hard," he murmured.

"Yeah," you glared at him. "For you."

He chuckled again before getting shushed by someone sitting a shelf away from your table. This made you snicker, worry melting away for a split-second. "I don't get how you can grasp this so easily. The formulas all look the same and I don't know which one to use."

He hummed thoughtful before scooting his chair nearer you. "Just start by focusing on the question. Look at what variables they're giving you and at what's missing, then just match them up with the formula that fits."

"I know~ but—" you huffed. "It's a no-formula-card type of exam."

The way you pouted at him almost looked exactly like how you did all those years ago. You were his first—only—friend, and over time, him simply tolerating you had turned into him growing fond of you.

"How many formulas have you memorized?"

"Two, almost three."

"There's six right? Almost there," he gave you a genuinely encouraging smile.

You loved Chishiya for all his snark and cleverness, but you also loved how soft and supportive he can be when it comes to it. These were small moments you held near your heart, and you doubt you'll ever let them go.

He gently took the flashcards from your hands, tapping rhem on the table to align them. He moved a little so the blank sides were facing you and peered at you over the cards. "If you can get this all down by 5 pm, I'll buy you a snack."

"I want a box of macarons."

"I'll buy you a snack that I can afford."

"Deal!"

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Milestone

"How was your finals, doctor?"

A light blush bloomed across Chishiya's cheeks. You were a constant pillar of support for him in life, one he hadn't experienced before from anyone else. Since college had begun for the both of you, you were consistently waiting for him after every finals exam he had—a small strawberry cake roll ready in your hands as a reward for him. It became a tradition for the both of you, and even though Chishiya wasn't the best with words, you knew he was appreciative of your actions.

"I've been offered to intern," his voice was neutral, though you know he was at most pleased with himself with the way his eyes crinkled up. In his mind, however, he was more excited about the cake in his hands rather than the position.

"Holy shit?!" you wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to squish the frosting. His breath hitched for a second, before he wrapped his free arm around you. He buried his face in your hair, lips quirking up as he shut his eyes to savor the moment. "I'm so proud of you, Chi."

The sunset was slowly trickling into the wide windows of the school hallways. Chishiya didn't expect to be in that laboratory for so long, and it was only now that he realized how long you must have waited. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you to see your face better. 

"Have you eaten yet? You might get an ulcer."

You chuckled lightly, "I've eaten lunch a few hours ago. I wanted us to have dinner together, but I've eaten some crackers while I was waiting."

"Crackers," he pressed his lips in disapproval. "Those aren't nutritious."

Lightly chuckling, you took his hand, leading him out of the building and soon, the campus. The weather was a bit chilly even though you had worn a jacket. Still, you were too stubborn to say anything. Fortunately, Chishiya read you like an open book. Without prompting, he took your hand in his.

"How was your finals? Did your prof like the color application?"

Your heart swelled up. You honestly didn't expect him to remember.

The final project your professor gave you for color theory was to pick an existing painting and evoke the opposite emotion of it by changing the colors and composition. It seemed easy enough, but it had stumped you since you wanted to pick just the perfect base.

The night you were finishing it, Chishiya stayed over at your apartment to "make sure you were eating"—an excuse for him to spend more time with you. He was adamant about getting you to sleep early for the sake of your circadian rhythm, and when he couldn't convince you, stayed up with you instead.

"He seemed to like it, thank god. The composition flowed well and he like that I used a tertiary color scheme."

"I told you the risk would pay off," he smirked.

"I know," you stuck your tongue out. "I should listen to my all-knowing boyfriend more."

Boyfriend. 

He loved it so much when you called him that. Until now he couldn't believe you were real, that what you had was real. He would give anything in the world to stay with you forever.

You passed by a ramen shop, stopping in your tracks to scan the bowls of steaming noodles in longing. You had badly wanted something to heat you up, but one glance at the prices shot down your hopes. 

"I'll treat you," he said softly. "You deserve it."

"But you're the one who got the internship," you pouted at him.

"I'll be treating myself too by buying myself good ramen," he raised an eyebrow, silently pleading that you'd just give in. "And you did treat me. You got me cake."

He raised the small box by the ribbons wrapped around it. When you stayed silent for a couple of seconds, he sighed. You were still stubborn about having to "owe" people things, especially if you felt like you "didn't earn it."

"Fine. I'll buy you ramen tonight and you can make it up to me by taking me to the cafe next week."

"Deal!" you gave in.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Game

Your first game in the Borderlands already had you running for your life. It was a five of clubs called Cat and Mouse. Set in a large office building, you needed to find the four mice scattered all over the place and take their tail—the twist being that the "mice" were actually people donning masks and guns. Red bandanas were attached to their belts, the tails you needed to get.

Chishiya was just behind you, heavily breathing as he slid between the winding hallways of the game arena. His hands were still in his hoodie pockets, much to your dismay. You had told him it'll slow him down, but he just shrugged you off. 

"I know where the final mouse is."

The gunshots faded as you ran farther away from the main room. The two of you teamed up with a group of three other players, and Chishiya came up with the idea to lure the third mouse so you can ambush him.

You had seen another player holding a bandana, and by Chishiya's deductions, you only had another tail left to catch. "The gunshots stopped. We know that there's two mice either dead or incapacitated. Judging by how they seem to be on defense, I think there's only one left."

"Because it would be risky for the last one to come out," you murmured moreso to yourself, completing his thoughts.

He hummed in approval. "We need to find the other players to see if we can cover ground faster. Unless..."

He halted, staring straight down the dimly-lit hallway. You nervously looked around, readying the crowbar you held tightly in case anything were to pounce on you. Chishiya. 

"Maybe we shouldn't stop in the middle of the hallway," you chided him, though he was still deep in his thoughts.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with a realization. "Unless the mice aren't on the floors."

You're gaze trailed up to the ceiling, landing on the thin slits marked on some parts. Chishiya grinned proudly. Your intelligence has once again made him fall impossible even deeper. 

"They're in the vents," you surmised. He nodded, looking at you in awe and love—as if you were God who came down from heaven to bless him, your devout worshipper.

"We need to tell the others so we can prepare another ambush then." You had considered going back to the main hall, but the other players might have left or been dead by then.

"Don't you want to rest first?" He asked teasingly. 

You snorted. "Shuntaro, we have—" you glanced at the phone, "—five minutes left."

He hummed, feigning contemplation. That name was reserved only for serious occasions, and he knew you were getting riled up. "How about this: we tell them now, but we let them do the handiwork."

This was a side of him that you dreaded seeing. His entire "pawns go first" philosophy bothered you—in fact, you were strongly against it. You didn't like how this place brought out the worst in him, how it brought out the coldness and slyness of his heart.

Yet here you were, unable to leave him. You knew that he was only doing it to protect you. He wanted you to go back together safely as much as you did, but he did it in his own ways.

You bit your lip, voice laced with hesitation.

"Deal."

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First and Last Goodbye

The first game of the face cards round decimated what might as well be half of the players. 

During the first onslaught King of Spades, you and Chishiya got separated from Kuina, Arisu, and Usagi. The crowbar you had kept from your first game served its last purpose when you used it as a makeshift golf club to hit the grenade away from you. Just as you did, Chishiya dove and pulled you downwards with him to take cover.

You eyes were closed tightly, and the only things you could hear were the ringing in your ears and the beating of his heart. For a second, you swore you had died. Then the arms wrapped around you loosened, followed by a hand running through your hair.

"Are you okay?" Chishiya whispered. His eyebrows knit in worry. "We need to move. Now."

You nodded wordlessly. slowly and quietly rolling off him. Screams and the roar of a rifle were still audible near you, but seemingly moving in the opposite direction. He helped you up, giving you a quick scan to make sure you weren't heavily injured.

"We need to find a sparsely populated area," he spoke once he deemed the King was far enough. "Looks like he's going after large crowds."

"We can go to the edge of the city and follow the river. We're bound to hit a forest sooner or later," you suggested.

"That might take time." He looked your tired state. The bags under your eyes darkened and small scars littered all over your body. An almost empty backpack slung over your shoulder, looking almost as sad as you were.

He weighed out his options: what you suggested was the ideal choice, but you were in no condition for a long trek. Finally, he came to a decision. "But that'll work. We need to do a supply run first."

Was it risky still being in the city? Yes. Did he want you to starve? No. As a compromise, he steered clear of the shops on the main streets. Unfortunately, the smaller stores you ventured into were already looted, only expired goods left in the wreckage.

You could tell Chishiya was getting frustrated. His jaw clenched each time you failed to find food or water. His composure was starting to crack for the first time since you got here. You sidled next to him, slipping your hand into his. He relaxed a bit, though his lips were still pulled into a small grimace.

"We'll be okay," you offered him a small smile. He kissed you on the forehead, returning only a small hum in response.

After thirty more minutes of searching, the two of you finally stumbled upon a shack that had edible food. There were candies at the front, the strawberry ones catching your eye.

Grabbing a handful of them, you strode up to Chishiya. His back was turned to you, the blond busy searching through shelves of cup noodles and biscuits. You tapped him on the shoulder. 

"I got this for you," you brought up the candies like an offering. His eyes sparkled, and he couldn't help the grin that broke through his face. 

"Charming." It was supposed to be teasing, but it came out genuinely grateful. He turned the backpack he was filling up towards you so that you can drop the candies in.

He held it in place for a few seconds longer, looking at you as if he wanted something. You raised your eyebrow in question. He hesitated for a bit, before leaning forwards and connecting his lips with yours.

You reciprocated the kiss, pressing closer to him. The bag landed with a thud on the ground, him favoring pulling your waist closer instead. He was rarely the one who initiated physical affection, but it only took him a bit of prodding to follow through.

He broke away, only to look you in the eyes. "I'll take you home. I promise."

"We'll take us home," you gave him one last peck on the lips.��

For a moment, it felt normal again. It was just you and him against all odds. You were in your little bubble near the outskirts of town, safe from all the hurt.

Then the gunshots started again and they were scarily nearer this time.

Your eyes widened and Chishiya froze. You quickly picked up the bag while he slowly peered out the glass panes of the shop. The caped King was just down the road, a shotgun in his hands. He shot towards the inside of a shop, and Chishiya was certain he hit whoever his target was.

"That's not good," he muttered to himself. "___, run when I tell you to."

"I won't leave you," you snapped.

"I'll be right behind you. I promise." He gave you a reassuring look before peering out the shop window again. 

"Fucker must have tracked us." With the crowbar gone, you had only the small bomb Chishiya made for protection.

He took it out of the inside of his jacket, waiting until the King got close enough. Chishiya knew it wasn't enough to kill anyone, but it would buy you time. That's all that mattered to him.

The crunching of boots on gravel drew closer. Chishiya twisted one of the wires around his finger, ready to pull the activator. The King shot into another store, closer to the one you were in this time. He emptied the round and lowered his gun to reload. In one swift movement, Chishiya pulled on the wire and chucked it as hard as he can.

"Go!"

The two of you sprinted out the shop. The can clunked on the ground as it landed before splintering into pieces with a loud boom. Chishiya yelled after you.

"Don't look back!"

Yet you did, just in time to see the King dodge behind the doorframe. Just in time to see he had the now loaded gun pointed at Chishiya. 

In a split-second, you turned on your heel and pushed Chishiya into an alleyway, the bullet meant for him digging its way into your chest. 

The impact slammed you against the brick wall. There was ringing in your ears and your eyes were blurred by tears. When did you start crying?

Chishiya grabbed your upper body, dragging you deeper into the alley. You could see his lips moving. He was trying to tell you something but everything was so fuzzy.

With adrenaline pumping in his veins, he scooped you up, carrying you as he ran. There were footsteps following not far from him. Pushing his legs to go faster, he inched around the twisted alley, slinking in and out of connected rooms, running and running until he found a door to a semi-basement hidden behind tarps.

He forced it in with his shoulder, careful not to hit you. The room used to be for storage—construction items and dust filling the space. He slid behind a pile of wooden beams, gently setting you down. The surroundings outside settled, and he knew the gunman had lost you.

But god, the bloodbath before him was the scariest.

He'd seen this happen before. He's seen how pale a person could get after so much blood loss. He's seen how it becomes more evident with the lips, cheeks, the tips of your fingers. He's seen that faraway look, the one where he knew the person was starting to drift away.

He put both hands on your chest, putting pressure on the wound. Your blood leaked through your shirt, soaking his hands. Frantically, he took his hoodie off and pressed it against you too. 

"Don't die on me, ___. Please." He whispered, voice breaking.

His words brought you back, tearing your eyes away from the corner of cement bricks and bringing it back to his warm, brown ones. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. He's never cried before.

You tried to move your lips, only a croak escaping from your throat. "Chish..."

"Don't leave me, please. Please, ___."

A crimson puddle on the ground was growing at an alarming rate. He had no tools, no help. He was a doctor but he couldn't fucking save the only life that mattered to him. 

Shakily, he held you closer. His voice never sounded this gentle before. "Stay with me."

"C-candies. Eat well... okay?" Your voice was hoarse. The humid room felt colder now. "L-love you."

"We'll eat well together. We'll go back together, I promised you. I'll get you macarons and ramen and those paints you've always wanted, okay? Deal?" His voice was wavering. He tightened his grip on you, pressing your chest harder with his other hand. "Deal?"

You looked up at him with a sad smile. With the last bit of your strength, you brought your hand up and pressed it against his. He laced your fingers together.

"___?" He whispered, finally letting the tears fall. "Deal?" 

You didn't respond. You didn't get to hear him say he loved you too.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

First Grief

One minute.

Landing in the Borderlands. Cat and Mouse. The Beach. The face cards. Losing you.

It all happened within a minute in the real world.

Chishiya made a promise to himself while he was in the Borderlands. When the candies would run out, he'd stop fighting. When the last traces of you would leave him, he'd join you. Yet by divine intervention, they lasted enough until he beat the King of Diamonds. Long enough until Arisu and Usagi cleared the final face card. 

And now here he was. Sitting on a hospital bed, knowing that he wouldn't find you anywhere in the hospital or the Earth for that matter. 

He hadn't spoken since, only nodding or shaking his head in response to the doctor's questions. As a doctor, he'd known he would've been pissed at a patient that acted like himself. But nothing mattered anymore.

"We found you holding this. Your fist was wrapped around it pretty tightly that we thought the blood had cut off," a nurse told him. She placed a singular piece of strawberry candy on his bedside table.

He looked at it with mixed feelings of remorse and dread. He waited for the nurse to leave the room. Wordlessly, he reached over to close the curtains separating him from a patient with burn injuries. He allowed himself to break down again that day.

When his wounds had recovered enough for him to stand, he found himself sitting in the garden area. The candy was still unopened, sitting on the oak table in front of him. A part of him still hoped that you'd join him out of nowhere. That he'll hear your voice like tinkling bells calling out to him.

"I promised," he thought to himself. How was he supposed to continue everything you've built without you? How was he supposed to go home and face all the things you've left behind?

He wanted to cry again. He wanted to tear his heart out so he'd stop the hurt. He wanted you back. He'd give anything.

The small buzz of wings pricked his ears. He lifted his hand a little, discovering a tiny beetle that had landed near him. He stared at it for a few seconds before gently nudging it with his finger.

It grasped his skin, spiky limbs crawling up his hand.

"___ would've loved you," he whispered.

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 1 - new year, same rivalry

a/n: hello! i’m back finally! super excited for this series, it’s definitely going to be more wholesome than my other one, and more of a slow burn! my plan is to have ten chapters, but that could change later on.. anyways enjoy and please tell me what you think! if you would like to be put on the series taglist, let me know! ♥️

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 3.8k

series masterlist

“Welcome, year twelves. It’s lovely to see you all today, I recognize some familiar faces. My name is Mrs. Chasteen, I’ll be your teacher for English studies this year.” You set your bag down and take a seat, glancing up at the woman speaking. She’s very elegant, with her grey hair pulled into a strict bun and sophisticated tiny rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. You smooth out your black pleated skirt before crossing your legs.

“As I’m sure you all know, this year is very important. You should be considering which universities you wish to apply to, how you would like to further your education…” Your attention is side tracked when a tall figure hurries into the room, his dark eyes scanning for an open seat. You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Farleigh.

His eyes eventually fall onto you after spotting the empty seat next to you. He reluctantly walks over and sits down next to you with a big sigh, like he’s just put off by your existence. At least the feeling’s mutual.

“Your grades need to be in top shape this year, as they will determine your chances of getting into university. This year is arguably the most important for grades,” Mrs. Chasteen explains, pacing around slowly. You shift uncomfortably, scooting away from Farleigh. It’s like he’s trying to take up space on purpose as he splays his books and papers across the table. You shoot him an ungrateful look which he ignores.

“Now, enough about all that. I’m going to introduce the book that we will be studying closely this term.” You perk up at her words as she goes to her desk, picking a book up off the surface.

“This book is found on many, many reading lists for universities, namely Oxford.” You raise an eyebrow and sit up at the mention of your dream school. “A classic from the Victiorian era: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.” She holds up the book briefly and you let out a relieved sigh. “One of my personal favorites,” She adds quietly, setting the book back down.

Farleigh nudges you with his shoulder and you have to stop yourself from physically recoiling. “Would’ve thought you’d already read this by now,” He mutters with a slight smirk on his face, showing his teeth like a fox. Suddenly, a question enters your mind and now you have to ask, though you might come off as insecure. “Have you?” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head. “No.”

Okay, good. That would have been bad if he had already read it. It’s always nice at the start of the year. You’re both even, and no one’s ahead of each other in anything. Yet.

“We’ll be discussing and taking assessments over the chapters, so be certain to keep up with your reading. For your final project before winter break once we finish the book, you will be writing an essay based off of it and a prompt that I will give you. I will also be pairing you up with someone to collaboratively write said paper with.” Your eyes widen at this. A group project? Well, not a group. A duo. Nevertheless, it’s weird for two people to write an essay together. You’ve never heard of it.

“You need to learn how to critique each other and work together. It’s an important skill for uni.” Mrs. Chasteen seems to notice everyone’s looks of confusion. “Hmm,” Farleigh hums. You glance over to him shortly before observing the other students in your class. You recognize a lot of them. Just accquaintances, not friends.

“Anywho. Please come and grab a copy, then sign the sheet so I know you received one.” You quickly stand up and head over to her desk. You want to make a good first impression. But Farleigh and his stupid long legs make it there before you do, charming Mrs. Chasteen with a bright smile.

“Hello. I’m Farleigh. I’m absolutely thrilled to be taking your class,” He holds out his hand, speaking with his velvety voice while your teacher shakes his hand with a curt nod. “You’re quite tall,” She remarks with an impressed expression. You roll your eyes. Why does everyone feel the need to comment on his height? Does it make him better than everyone else? It’s just one more thing that makes Farleigh stand out more than you, and you hate that. You miss what he responds with due to your bitter thoughts.

“Please, take a book.” She steps back and gives him more space. He reaches down and takes a copy off of her desk, signing the paper shortly after with his free hand, writing in flawless cursive. You’re envious of how smoothly and quickly he can connect the letters. It looks like something out of a scroll from the eighteenth century.

“Oh, wonderful cursive,” Mrs. Chasteen clasps her hands together in approval and Farleigh just glances at you with a shit-eating grin before walking off and back to your shared table.

“Hi there,” You put on your best I’m very high achieving and hard working smile and mimic Farleigh’s actions, holding out your hand as you introduce yourself. She smiles back warmly while shaking your hand. “What a beautiful name. I’ve heard many great things about you from your previous teachers.” She almost lowers her voice. You feel your face heat up and you try not to show your pride.

“Oh, well then, I hope I live up to your expectations, miss.” You say with a beaming smile. She chuckles and hands you a book. “I’m certain you will,” She replies as you sign your name on the sheet of paper in slightly sloppier cursive, looking worse underneath Farleigh’s perfect signature.

You walk back to your spot with a spring in your step, holding your head high. Hearing just those few words from your new teacher’s mouth made your day. That’s how badly you crave academic validation. Or just… validation in general.

“You hear that?” You ask, returning his grin from earlier. “Hear what?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and turning to you with a confused expression. “Nevermind.” You don’t know why you thought he would’ve heard your conversation from all the way over here. “Mmm,” He hums in response, and there’s some attitude in his tone. You debate whether you should come up with a snarky question to ask him, but you decide against it.

Once all the books are handed out, Mrs. Chasteen walks up to the whiteboard and uncaps a marker. “So, can anyone tell me something interesting about Emily Brontë?” She asks.

Both of your hands shoot up at the same time. You mentally curse at Farleigh and shoot him an annoyed side glance. He returns the favor. Mrs. Chasteen notices this and raises her eyebrows. “Eager to answer, are we?” She chuckles and then looks around. “Anyone else?”

You glance around the room. No one else is raising their hands, they’re all just looking expectantly at you and Farleigh. You look back to your teacher with wide eyes, willing her to pick you.

“Alright then..” Mrs. Chasteen clears her throat. Her eyes land on you. She’s going to pick you. Yes. Now you can prove your intelligence and superiority to the rest of the class, and to Farleigh.

“Farleigh.” Your hand drops back down to your side in defeat and he turns to look at you. He just winks. He winks. The annoying fuck, you could probably strangle him right now-

“Well, Emily wasn’t the only poet and writer in her family. Her sister, Charlotte, wrote Jane Eyre, which was hugely successful. But Wuthering Heights was critiqued for being too clumsy or, rather, not well structured.” He explains, sounding like a fucking Britannica article. It was the exact thing you were going to say, and it pisses you off. You rest your elbows against the desk and put your chin in your hands, sighing dejectedly.

Mrs. Chasteen nods and writes this on the board, summing up the information into bullet points. “Correct. Very good.” She caps the marker again and turns back to the class. You raise your hand quickly, and she calls your name.

“I think Farleigh’s forgetting to mention Anne Brontë. She was probably the least popular out of the three sisters, but her works are seriously underrated. Her last novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, was one of the first feminist novels. She paved the way for other female authors and gave women a voice.” You explain, and Mrs. Chasteen looks surprised at your level of knowledge. You can feel Farleigh’s bristling energy next to you. You smile contentedly, watching as your teacher writes what you said about Anne off to the side.

“And have you read this book?” Farleigh suddenly asks. You turn to face him, unafraid of his challenging. “No, I have not. But I did a project over the Brontë sisters last year, and my research went quite in depth.” You explain, and he does one of those Olympic winning eyerolls. “Having extra information like that comes in handy, you know,” You grin as his eyebrows furrow, glaring sharply at you. “It’s not like it matters. We’re not even talking about Anne. She asked about Emily.” It seems like you two have forgotten completely about the rest of the students in the room, the teacher, and everything else in the world as you begin to argue. It just comes naturally.

“If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned Charlotte. She asked about Emily,” You mock him. He opens his mouth to say something back, then closes it and looks down.

“Alright.. anywho, now we’re going to read a short introduction to the book to give you all an idea of what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Chasteen explains, giving you and Farleigh a stern look.

Throughout the rest of the class, you and Farleigh remain silent and refuse to speak to each other, though you were instructed to discuss with the person next to you. You look out the stained glass window, watching the raindrops patter onto the cobblestone, the puddles illuminated by the golden light shining from the lanterns, the chatter around you drowned out by your own thoughts about the rest of today.

Your overthinking is interrupted by your teacher’s voice.

“Okay everyone, that’s it for today. I will see you all tomorrow. Could you two stay for a moment, please?” She turns to you and Farleigh as you’re gathering your things, gesturing for you two to come up to her desk. You both glance at each other before nodding and heading over after you’ve swung your bag over your shoulder.

“So… you two seem very.. competitive. You’re both very intelligent, make no mistake.” You wonder where she’s going with this. “Which makes me curious– May I ask which universities you two intend on applying to?”

“Oxford.” You both say at the same time, after which you immediately turn to each other with wide eyes. What? No. It can’t be. You’re seriously fucked if he applies to Oxford. They rarely ever take two people from the same school.

“You’re applying to Oxford?!” You both ask, once again, at the same time. He looks almost personally offended by you, with his upper lip pulled up and his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar scowl.

“Oh- Haha, well. What a coincidence,” Mrs. Chasteen chuckles nervously, glancing back and forth. “I went to Oxford. It was quite lovely there, and the professors–”

“No, you can’t. I’m applying to Oxford.” You point at yourself, and he scoffs. “Who says I can’t?” Farleigh asks, his voice dripping with sass. “Me.” You reply. He rolls his eyes and facepalms with exasperation.

“Well, the chances of you both getting in aren’t… impossible. If they see two exceptionally good students who are at the top of their class, they won’t mind if you’re from the same school. They only see the talent,” She goes on to explain, trying to stop an argument from breaking out again.

“Logically, they would pick the top student, though. Not students,” You emphasize the s at the end of students. Mrs. Chasteen continues. “You never know. And backup universities are a great option, if–”

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ll only be applying to Oxford. It’s Oxford or nothing,” You reply, your voice full of determination. “Me too. Oxford’s been my dream uni since I moved here from the states,” Farleigh adds. You turn to glare at him and he glares right back.

“Well then. That’s fine, just please try not to take up any more class time with your bickering.” She raises her eyebrows at you two. You nod. “Yes, miss.”

“And who knows,” She says, pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, “You two might work better together. Two smart brains are better than one,” You shudder at the word together. You and Farleigh working together? Absolutely not.

“Think about it.” She points a finger and you reluctantly nod, just to give her some temporary satisfaction. “You’re excused,” She dips her head and you hear Farleigh let out a little sigh of relief. “Thank you, miss. Have a good day,” He nods shortly to her before turning on his heel and heading for the door. You follow suit.

Shit. You forgot about the rain. Before English class, you had made it inside before the downpour had really started. Now the raindrops covered every inch of the ground. You have to cross the courtyard to get to your next class, which is in the west wing of the school. You awkwardly stand in the arched corridor, listening to the rain, slightly shivering as you try to make a decision. The weather is always bipolar in London. It’s September, and the other day it was sweltering. Now it’s freezing and rainy.

Farleigh turns around and raises an eyebrow at your hesitation. “What are you doing?” He asks. You glance down. He’s holding a black umbrella. How is he always prepared for everything?

“Well I don’t have an… umbrella,” You mumble, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Am I supposed to care?” He replies. Of course. Why did you think he would care?

“You asked me what I was doing,” You throw your hands up. “I was answering your question!” You exclaim angrily. He rolls his eyes. “What’s your next class?” He asks hesitantly.

You pull out the small yet important paper from your pocket with your classes on it, looking down and squinting. “Biology,” You reply, looking up and watching all the other students bustling around, chatting excitedly or holding umbrellas over their head as they walk through the courtyard. You look back to Farleigh, who seems to be thinking something over in his head.

“Alright, c’mon.” He nods to you, walking out into the open area, holding up the umbrella. You step forward without questioning it, just thankful for the rare act of kindness. “I’m headed to the west wing anyway,” He says as you walk side by side, as if he has to make it clear that this is not him being generous to you. It’s simply convenient.

You wish you didn’t have to stay so close to him, but if you want to be covered fully from the rain, you sort of have to get closer to him, your head brushing against his shoulder due to your almost embarrassing height difference and your feet almost tripping over his. You both remain silent, with only the sound of the rain pelting against the umbrella to keep you company.

You eventually reach the west corridor, and he’s quickly stepping away from you and wrapping up the umbrella. You begin walking to go find your class, before you hear his voice call after you.

“No ‘thank you’ or anything?” He asks. You turn around and groan internally. “...Thank you.” You respond, very reluctantly and quietly. “You’re welcome,” He smiles sarcastically and you roll your eyes before turning back around, quickening your pace to make it to your class on time.

A week later, your first calculus assessment of the year is already upon you. It doesn’t help that you share that class, of all classes, with Farleigh. Math has always been your most difficult subject. You’ve never been quick to understand it, it never comes naturally for you. But if you put in the time and work, you can make it seem like it’s effortless.

Apparently for Farleigh, it is effortless. He makes it clear that he never studies for tests or quizzes. While it infuriates you, you also find it hard to believe. How can he ace everything when he claims he doesn’t even try?

You sit down at your desk, fishing your pencil and calculator out from your bag. You nervously chew on the eraser, waiting for the papers to be passed out.

“First assessment of the year, good luck everyone. If you fail, there will be no corrections, so hopefully that makes you feel better,” Mr. Bailey says as he passes out the tests. His sarcasm somehow only makes the situation worse. You spent hours studying for this last evening, although he claimed this was all ‘mostly a review’ from your precalculus class last year. Right. Review. You should know this stuff by now.

As soon as the paper is on your desk, you begin working, starting with the problems you know how to solve. You get in that zone, completely unbothered by your surroundings or any distractions, just working, switching between writing down numbers and formulas to typing into the calculator.

You get stumped on a question and glance up to check the time. Your eyes wander from the clock over to Farleigh, who seems completely relaxed, one hand running through his hair and fiddling with his dark curls and the other working a problem out.

“Eyes on your own tests, please,” Mr. Bailey sternly calls out. Your eyes dart over to him, where he sits behind his desk, his gaze directly upon you. Fuck. Now he’s going to think you were cheating. But what were you actually doing? Staring at Farleigh? No. You were just… observing. You go back to your test, flipping the paper over to start the graphing section.

“That’s time. Pencils down, I’ll come by to pick up your papers.” Mr. Bailey announces, standing up and starting down the rows of desks and picking up everyone’s tests. He says something to Farleigh but you can’t make it out, but you see Farleigh grin. It seems that Mr. Bailey has already chosen his favorite student. You never even stood a chance.

Once he makes it to your row and picks up your test, you begin to pack up your things. “I’ll have these graded by tomorrow. Please don’t complain to me if you fail. That’s on you.” You scoff quietly at your teacher’s harsh remarks as you make your way to the door. Thank God that was your last class of the day. Now you can head back to your dorm.

Farleigh falls into step next to you. “So, how’d that go for you?” You stare straight ahead, focusing on the path ahead of you. “Good. Honestly, it was easier than I expected.” You reply. It’s half truth. It was slightly easier than you were preparing yourself for, but you usually prepare yourself for the worst. But you can’t let him know that you still struggled.

“Really. Hmm,” He hums, and you glare up at him. “What?” You study his expression. He must think you’re lying, based on his little smirk and raised eyebrows. “Nothing. It’s just… we both know math is not your strong suit,” He pauses and you stop next to him. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” You scowl up at him and he just grins.

“Unlike you, I actually study.” You continue walking, hoping he’ll leave you alone, but he follows you. “Aw, you actually need to study? Sad.” He pouts and you actually feel the urge to strangle him.

You turn around abruptly and he stops in his tracks. “Alright. Lovely talking with you. Bye!” You wave with a fake smile. Farleigh looks a bit surprised by your reaction. There’s only so much of his insults you can take.

“Bye,” He quietly mutters as you turn back around, walking quicker and more determined, putting some confidence into your step.

You groan and flop onto your bed once you enter your dorm. Suddenly, you realize how sleepy you are as your eyelids feel heavy You cover your face with a pillow and sigh, wishing you could rest. It sounds wonderful. But you have work to do. Reading, studying, the list goes on.

You chose this boarding school because you heard it was most similar to the Oxford experience, campus wise. It was also named the most prestigious secondary school in London. You often become very homesick, though, and you long for the comfort of your parents and your real home. At least it’s preparing you for university.

You groan once again into the pillow before sitting up and pushing the idea of sleep away. It’s time to get to work.

The next day, you wait to get your calculus test back. Mr. Bailey is handing them out while you overthink and prepare yourself for a failing grade. What would you do if you actually failed? You think you would rather be pushed off of a tall building than receive an F on a test.

Suddenly, a paper lands on your desk. You quickly glance down and see ‘97.5’ written in red ink at the top of the paper. Your eyes widen and you feel relief wash over you. Thank the Lord. You grin and pick up your test, inspecting it closer and going over your errors.

You hear someone coming up behind you. You quickly flip your paper over, hiding the grade from whoever is lurking over your shoulder. But it’s too late.

“Not bad…” A deep, American voice chuckles quietly. You turn around in your chair, and to no surprise, Farleigh is standing there with his arms crossed. He’s already seen your grade.

“Stop looking at my grades,” You hiss. “Relax, I was just curious.” He smirks at your frustration and holds up his own test. You see a ‘98’ scrawled up at the top along with a ‘good job’ next to it. You huff in response, turning back around.

“That’s not even much better than mine,” You mutter. “What’s that?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck. You shiver and remain silent, unable to repeat yourself for some reason.

“Sorry, who got the better grade?” Farleigh questions, his voice lowered. You let out a small sigh, ready to admit your defeat. “You.” You reply quietly.

“Right.” And then he’s gone, probably heading back to his own desk. What a bitch. You roll your eyes and pinch the space between your eyes, shaking your head. Yeah, he got .5 more points than you, and it doesn’t seem like much. But for Farleigh, it’s a huge win. But you’ll get him back. You always do. And you’re going to be the one who makes it into Oxford, you are sure of it.

[nutsuya]

♡ Free! Boys as Frat Boys ⨾

ft. natsuya, sousuke, seijuroo, kisumi, rin, makoto

w. frat au, kinda toxic?, jealousy, possessiveness, pda, implied exhibitionism, and a little ooc :3

a/n. I’m on a little break at work and I suddenly had a thought about the himbo love of my life natsu but I threw in the others as well.

꒰ Natsuya Kirishima ꒱

his shoulders will be your mount at every single party. competitive guy that he is, he always makes sure you guys are unbeatable — chicken fights especially, and everyone knows he’s a beast once he gets in the pool. he’s very proud that you’re able to hold your own. everyone in the frat house knows you’re off-limits! he even made a ‘special’ announcement at the frat house the day you said yes to him.

꒰ Sousuke Yamazaki ꒱

100% that guy who will come up to you when you’re talking to another guy and he’ll ask “is this guy bothering you?” tall, tan, lean drink of water that he is, of course every guy that comes up to you stops dead in their tracks. he wants to gatekeep you even though you had rejected his advances once or twice, only because he always seems to be surrounded by a flock of girls even though he doesn’t really seem interested. but he kinda grows on you the more he cockblocks every guy trying to hit on you. and who knows? maybe the only reason why you’re entertaining guys is just so he could do his little demo of how much he can make college boys scram with just his voice.

other girls would ask him to pay attention to them instead of you but he won’t budge. the man is persistent. “sorry girls, my eyes are only for ___.”

꒰ Seijuroo Mikoshiba ꒱

he’s a little lowkey about your relationship so when a junior hits on you, not knowing you’re with sei, the poor guy is definitely given a rough time by his seniors. seijuroo mostly just laughs it off and everyone thinks he’s just being old typical masochistic sei, who likes to torture his juniors, but he seriously hates it when a guy doesn’t know his place.

꒰ Kisumi Shigino ꒱

he’s sure of himself and he’s very secure. he doesn’t seem like he gets in a lot of trouble even though he’s constantly surrounded by hotheads*. lots of other guys would flirt with you, including some of his friends, and he does not feel threatened at all. he’d even go through some of the weird dms you get and you’d both get a laugh out of the stupidest things guys would send you.

his go-to explanation when asked why he doesn’t really do anything about it is “well, can’t help that ___’s gorgeous.”

꒰ Rin Matsuoka ꒱

*the hothead.

he gets into trouble for sure. he just gets so angry and over-protective of you. that’s why he makes sure that everybody knows who you belong to - both of you often found all over each other in parties, tongues sticking into each other’s throats, without a care in the world who’s watching, and no one dares to even breathe in your direction.

꒰ Makoto Tachibana ꒱

the guy you least expect would be in a frat. what started out as a friendly date turned into a series of hookups until both of you finally committed. you initially thought all these ‘meetings’ he frequented were of the academic sort since he’s always at the top of his game. it wasn’t a secret per se, he just didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with it. when he finally broke the news, you had so many questions: “have you ever gotten beat up?”, “have you ever beaten up someone?”, “what was your initiation like?”, “don’t tell me! are you one of those guys who ran across the track field naked with nothing a paper bag on their head?! one of those guys are super meaty and tall, you obviously fit the description!” - which he found really cute of you.

“who knows?” he simply hums.

[leonawriter]

Okay apparently I'm going to do a study on this introduction, because going back to it? Especially knowing more about Hakuba via more recent Magic Kaito chapters? Fascinating stuff.

So. Hakuba's introducing himself, and he starts out by bringing up "My father spoke of you often" and "It seems you're a very sharp detective." Both of those are positive!

Hakuba is... high society, compared to Hattori simply hanging out around high ranking people and treating them like normal. Hattori argues with Kazuha in a very down to earth way, while Hakuba knows how to drink tea and probably how to set the table with a full set of cutlery (or at least how to use them).

So, Hakuba using their fathers to introduce himself is, to him, a normal enough way to say "I've heard good things about you, we're similar, I hope we can get along well."

What's more - Shinichi realises that, pretty quickly. Even if they hadn't met previously, he'd have been able to figure out by the words being used, that Saguru's father knows Heiji's father, or that they're in the same business.

If anything, I'd say that this slight culture clash is the second step of things going wrong between Hattori and Hakuba here, right after Hakuba being present at all, since Hattori had wanted Shinichi to take his rightful place where Hakuba is currently sitting.

Strike one, strike two.

Unfortunately, it gets worse from there, and I'm gonna go into it.

But then Hakuba brings up that he's not even fully based in Japan. To which, mostly Hattori is just "wait, what?" - but although I'm sure he means it simply to be as clear as possible, that could also be read as "I would say that, but I'm actually better." As in, being smug.

Strike three.

Still with "Kudo is the high school detective of the east, that's obvious, isn't it?" and rubbing salt into the insult to Hattori's bro with "they'd have liked me to represent the east in his place" but...

Oh boy.

This... this is also where I just stared and held my head in my hands because now? Because of something Hattori's said, and what he's going to continue saying/leaning into... we need to go back in time.

All the way back in Hakuba Saguru's first appearance, the papers say "just returned from London," suggesting (as I've seen someone say before) that he'd spent at least some, if not much, of his youth in Japan.

Certainly, he doesn't seem to speak with an accent in the present day, so he can't have grown up in the UK and only sometimes lived in Japan.

In Japan, however, he is referred to as...

In Nakamori's (uncouth) words at their first meeting, "Y-you're that bastard from London!"

No mention of how he has a fully Japanese name, partially Japanese features, a Japanese father, and no accent.

His introductory splash also frames him with the Union Jack behind him, showing off his Holmes cosplay and light hair. Almost all the major characters in the series have blue eyes, but here it's rather... plainly emphasising his Western features. His non-Japanese-ness.

Now, I do have to wonder if Gosho wrote that back in 1990 and hadn't given much thought to it. I certainly don't think it was intentionally cruel.

However, by volume 40, released in 2003, he's learned a bit more about social prejudice, and shows this with the Professor's First Love story:

This shows something that happened 40 years ago in-universe, with a girl of Japanese-American descent who has light, gingko colour hair, being very aware of how different she is, and not wanting her friend to see. She calls her hair "weird" and starts to cry.

Coming back to the present - content released in 2006 - let me go back to Hakuba Saguru.

Hattori "That's obvious, isn't it? And yer not even from this country to begin with."

Oh, Hattori. Only the previous case had you seeing how words can be as sharp as knives, and can hurt people.

Saguru doesn't seem too bothered at first, however...

First off, he points out that it isn't even his fault he's "taken Kudo's place" in the first place!

They contacted his housekeeper, who he's been shown to be very close with (I'd hazard a guess to say that, having not seen his mother at all, or seen her mentioned, Baaya is closer to him than his parents are), and when she heard that her charge would only be taking someone else's place since they weren't there, she got offended on his behalf.

Saguru, who loves this woman like she's literally his nanny, could hardly say no at that point.

More to the point: how he says "But it appears I am unfit to represent the East..."

So now we have Hattori having come in wanting his best friend to be represented and not sidelined just because of circumstances out of his control, and being in a bad mood immediately because of someone else having been called in. He also possibly inflates the number of cases he worked on or solved, by including childhood adventures, leading Saguru to point out that his count is only low if you only count the ones in one country. Saguru attempts to make friends with him regardless, and that doesn't work because Hattori is still stuck on how Saguru is "taking Kudo's place" and then focuses in on how Saguru "isn't even from this country" which... starts leaning into the uncomfortable territory of "Hattori I love you to pieces but are you being racist/xenophobic right now?"

I say that in the context of how Japan has a really big problem with seeing anyone who isn't fully Japanese as Not Japanese Enough, as I went into earlier. I don't think he's aware how he's coming across, by the way; he's simply got a big case of foot-in-mouth.

So now instead of having come to this conclusion organically and naturally, Saguru is offering to take the place of "Guest Participant from Overseas" to placate Hattori.

I'd imagine he won't be wanting to tell Baaya about that, for sure.

Saguru goes on to suggest that Conan (i.e, Shinichi himself) should represent the East instead.

I reiterate: they could well have come to this conclusion over a friendly conversation, because of how they have five detectives. But instead now Saguru has ceded his position to (as far as he knows) a child. A very clever child, but a child nonetheless.

The next time we're back at the island with Hattori and the others, he's already decided he doesn't like "that smug guy."

As said before, there are plenty of things that Hattori could have picked up on that'd suggest Saguru "looked down on people" and "had a prideful way of thinking" and he certainly could appear smug in his achievements.

Hattori himself says that Saguru was "was like a copy of [Kudo]." But he has decided he doesn't like Hakuba, therefore he won't like Hakuba.

A moment of Saguru bonding with Natsuki over their natural brown hair, a shared trait - we can see him smiling after saying "But... there aren't any tv cameras yet, so you could do what you want for tonight?"

In a way I feel like I'm making too much of a big deal out of this one thing, but I'm not the one bringing attention to it - Gosho is. Gosho's the one who reminds us that kids get into trouble for their natural brown hair, and Saguru got that too.

Those who've read Magic Kaito will know that he DOES have a Japanese school uniform - but as we saw at the start of the post, when he arrived, he arrived from his school in London.

This further emphasises how he's set apart from the others.

(An aside: it's entirely possible that his "school abroad" is more likely him going to sixth form, since our Secondary schools last (or did for me) up to the age of 16, and depending on the time of year he may have transferred over to the new school year already. Or he's just finishing his last year of Secondary. We don't know.)

Honestly... I'm going to leave this at that for now, because for one thing the post got away from me a bit, and became longer than I expected, and for another thing, I've covered the majority of the first meeting and both of them getting off on the wrong foot.

In short:

Hattori arrived with an idea of slipping Shinichi into the event, and was offended and upset when someone was already in his place. He, being the loyal friend he is, wasn't willing to simply let it lie.

Instead of backing down and accepting the situation and make friends with the new detective - who Shinichi knew and was acting friendly with, and who was willing to befriend him - he let his bad mood get the better of him and made offensive remarks of his own, most of which to the others would seem entirely unwarranted.

Because of that, Hattori still has a bad opinion of Saguru, and Saguru's opinion of Hattori has gone from "my father's spoken of you [positively]" to "rude asshole."

Neither of them are innocent, but when you look at them individually and fairly, neither of them are the only one in the wrong, either.

Like... no wonder they don't get along from here on? Wow.

I did not expect there to be so much in it, but there we go.

[capcavan]

🗣️ (also sorry this got long, turns out i have thoughts) so like riko is one of the weirdest fandom cases i've ever seen. i've been in fandoms where characters who commit actual war crimes and genocide are badass babes or uwu soft bois, and even spoiled mafia brats who commit terrible crimes against the heroes for daddy's attention that get love and redemption. it's so weird to see just how isolated from all that riko is to me.

i do think it's partly how aftg is written, and that's also partly because niel's pov is not at all forgiving of riko, while is entirely forgiving of people like andrew. but i also think it's because of how riko himself is written. he's one of these characters that's better on paper than he is in the book to me. because he's never presented as smart enough to fall into the magnificent bastard trope where everyone applauds how devious his plans are, but he's not outright hammy enough to just be a fun read, he doesn't even get the same stupidly dramatic flare as andrew. and while we're told he's powerful and doing dangerous stuff, he's presented on page, more often than not, as a petulant child that neil is just done with or a guy who likes to torture people who neil is also done with. neil is never actually scared of riko, or even particularly threatened by him, and i think that hurts him and makes his position in the narrative weaker. especially when nora is trying to play him as a villain and a threat in a mafia story rather than a good old fashioned rival in a sports drama. for example, his first impression on the kathy show should live up to the hype of this imposing charismatic villain who broke kevin's hand, but instead loses him temper, forgets all of his media training and lets a nobody like neil goad him into losing control of the interview, and then his payback, things like shoving neil around and seth's death, are basically brushed off because neil doesn't really care that much. it's not given the weight to be a seriously omg this guys a threat first impression. and this isn't uncommon, lots of media hamstrings their villains at the start by making sure we know the main character is too sassy for them and can humiliate them, without thinking about how weak that can make the villain seem. it feels sometimes like nora wanted riko to be this chess master villain or tragic child who's lashing out at the world, without committing to it fully to either, or was just not an experienced enough writer to have known how to write either of those things in the pov of someone who hates riko's guts, which is understandable, writing is hard and that sort of nuance takes practice, especially if you just go by the books and not the extra content, and i do wonder how differently nora would have portrayed riko if she rewrote the main trilogy now with presumably a lot more practice under her belt. in the end riko ends up in this weird grey area to me where i understand why he's not popular, given he has none of the usual obvious traits that fans like to latch onto when redeeming a villainous character, and even the ones that are there are glossed over pretty quickly because of neil's pov, and a lot of his more interesting pieces are on paper not actively presented in the book, and not everyone reads super deep, but i also don't understand the amount of hate. i have literally never seen a character in any other fandom i've been in have this much fandom wide hatred.

See I have nothing to add here because you single handedly dropped the best analysis of Riko's character in the series I had pleasure to read so far and summed up all my feelings about why and what of the fandom. If the goal was to write a character that is impactful yet easy to hate then that goal was achieved but for me it real takes away form the magnitude of feelings Riko could evoke in reader and questions he could provoke in narrative if he was given bit different presentation that woudl still align with the lore we already have.

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

The Arcana M6 When The Bed Is Covered In Plushies

Asra

The bed has disappeared. Not from magic or anything like that, it's just no longer visible beneath the absolute mound of plushies you own

Oh, how does Asra feel about it?

Who do you think was supplying you with all these stuffed animals?

He thrives in this environment

They immediately crawl beneath all of them and become one with the plushie pile

He makes expectant grabbing motions to lure you into the pile of snugness, where he will trap you for all eternity

Faust also thrives in this environment and often is found squeezing the life out of a plushie

Speaking of Faust, she gets lost in the plushie pile so often you will have to check for her before diving in

Do not dive on top of her

Asra will accidentally kick half of the plushies off the bed in his sleep

Nadia

Her poor heart

The first time she walks in on you sitting in your mound of soft little friends she completely freezes. There's this dewy glittery haze in her eyes that makes you feel as if she's about to keel over

I hope your bed is big enough to accommodate all the plushies you're about to receive

She doesn't care that it's impractical, it makes you happy and that makes her happy

Although if she's being completely honest, this might be healing something for her

Not that she'll tell you that, you'll find out through her having a bit of a snuggle session with your plushies while she thinks you're gone

(DO NOT BRING IT UP SHE WILL GET FLUSTERED AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE HER DOING THAT AGAIN)

If anyone tries to make fun of you she just purchases you more (there's nothing quite like retail therapy, I guess??)

Julian

He doesn't register the plushies on the bed at night, he just crashed there immediately due to working for 4 days straight

In the morning (late afternoon), he notices. He lets out a frightened "GAH!" and asks you where all of them came from (they've been there for a week)

You explain to him why you own so many and he turns away, smiling a little at the sight of them

Julian's started to have some weird behavioral changes since this discovery. He's started to come to bed a little earlier, and when he doesn't, you end up noticing your plushies missing and later finding them on top of his papers or sitting on the dining table

When you leave to go run errands you'll often come home to him clutching one of your plushies (he's pretending he wasn't just snuggling the shit out of one while sobbing into his pant leg out of depression and loneliness)

Portia

Oh. Oh my.

The first time she sees you cuddled up with a soft toy she physically can not handle it. It's just too cute for her

It doesn't help that you're in a big pile of cute soft fluffy things either

She needs an outlet or else she's going to combust, so she ends up punting one of the plushies off the bed and into the hallway (this was followed by a disgruntled yowl)

You look at her in complete owl-eyed shock and she seems to realize what she's done with a surprised laugh

Portia giggles out a series of breathy apologies before going to put the plushie back in the room

Sticks a band aid on the injured one

Bless her soul, she loves you too much for her body to physically be able to handle

One day you came home to a little crocheted Pepi and an apology note from Portia

Muriel

He saw you with a couple on your trip with Morga

In all honesty his first thought was... well. There wasn't really one. It was like you had scrambled, deep fried, and microwaved his brain, all at the same time

When you moved into the hut he wasn't quite expecting you to move in with all of those

He finds it oddly endearing

But... how are you all going to fit on the bed

Genuinely considers going back to sleeping on the ground

After you frantically convince him that this won't be necessary, he huffs a tiny little sigh of relief before you both wonder what to do next

You decide to build a shelf to keep the majority of the stuffies on, while a select few go in the bed with you

Inanna loves them very much and will adore and protect them like her own pups

She loves them so much that she pulls them off the shelf and into bed with you, her, and Muriel, putting you back to square one

Lucio

Complained so much about your bed of plushies that you were considering running off into the woods to never be seen again

Okay well you wouldn't really do that, and seeing as you don't really live in a house your bedroll is covered in plushies

"MC, why are you holding a plushie when you could be holding me?" Becomes a nightly conversation

This problem is mostly solved when you get a plushie of him commissioned

What helps the most is when you buy him some of his own

Cue sniffling and eyeliner stained fluids running down his face

Much like Nadia, you're pretty sure this is actually very healing for him so you indulge him

Sometimes you'll hear him ranting to the plushies with his face all squished into them, which you always stop to listen to. Especially when the conversation turns to you

[sc0tters]

Heartless | Sidney Crosby

summary: when you finally arrive back to the rink you once called home, the last thing you expect is that the now legend from PIT forgets who he was once to you.

dreamer: chapter one

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.38k

authors note: I know how long some of you’ve been waiting for this series so I want to thank you! This was a bit of a weird chapter but it was just so we could set the ground for the rest of the work to come in later. I truly cannot wait to show you all where this one is going to go!

Today was the start of something new.

Or at least that was what you told yourself as you stood in the cool breeze that whirled around the city of Pittsburgh. Everything had gone your way today and the universe was clearly on your side.

You had woken up early, gotten an A on a paper you just got back, your Amazon delivery had arrived early. And most importantly your favourite coffee shop was still open letting you get something to eat before you were meant to be at the rink “watch where you’re going jackass!” You yelled as a car drove you off the road.

It was a pretty black land rover who only responded with the hit of the horn causing your brows to furrow “what a dick.” You scoffed watching the car speed off.

Now your coffee was soaking into the tar of the road as your croissant was being eaten by pigeons that had found you. So much for it being a good day, I guess.

Everything in your Arsenal that you could try to do to calm down as you wanted to have a clear mind for your first day “not everything is going to go your way.” Marc-André reminded you as he stared at you.

Despite having three children under the age of ten, you were still his baby just like the rest of your siblings “yeah but dad-” you whined parking your car as you looked at the PPG Arena “you know I’m being honest kid.” He mumbled knowing that he should have been in Pittsburgh as you started the season.

It made you roll you eyes “where is mom when you need some moral support?” You complained shutting the car door behind you as you stared up at the sky.

The grey sky seemed comforting as you heard the rough clouds come together as thunder claps roared over the city “she is with your sister but she’d also want you to just breathe.” His voice was clear making you roll your eyes “I hate it when you’re right.” You grumbled as a small smile formed on your lips.

Even with your rough exterior your father knew how to break you down in an attempt to get you to the soft state that had him wrapped around your finger “no you don’t.” Marc-André laughed as he shook his head “now go make me proud and play nice.” His words made you grin as you raked your fingers through your hair.

Pictures of the younger version of your father were up on the walls as you saw some of your favourite people from when you were a child growing up “I should get going dad.” You looked at your watch fearing that you were going to be late.

With that he snapped his fingers before he sent you a salute as you did the same thing “love you kid.” You pressed your fingers to your lips as the line ended.

You took a moment to study the welcome area and all of the trophies that the Penguins had won “I didn’t know we let fans in here today.” A voice came from behind you that causing you to spin on your feet.

Kris held a friendly face as you turned to a panic “I’m so sorry!” You blurted out as your cheeks reddened “I am actually the new intern for the physios office and uh-” you trailed off going quiet when the slap of his hand to his mouth cut you off.

It wasn’t often that Kris was left shocked “sparky you’ve gotten so big!” His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you into a hug.

Sparky was the title you picked up as a kid due to the fact that once when nobody on the team could get you to stop crying. Until your Sidney shocked himself plugging his phone charger into the wall.

Your reaction had most of the guys laughing as Sidney had to recreate his response to it in order to make sure you stayed smiling. Then it stuck after your dad dressed you up as a lightbulb for Halloween that year.

You smiled as he dropped his hands to his sides trying to comprehend that you were old enough to be working “I’ve gotten an internship here with the physio team.” You explained ignoring his crazy you felt admitting to the fact that you were actually there and this was no longer a note on your vision board.

Kris felt like a proud parent “always thought you’d land up somewhere like that.” The physios from when your dad was at the team used to entertain you when you came with him to work when your mom was busy with college work.

His words made your heart throb “enough about me, how are you-” before you could even get your words out the sound of a door slamming cut you both off.

Spinning around a smile formed on your face as you locked eyes with Sidney Crosby. You were like ever other child who was practically in awe of him, you were one of the lucky few who got to grow up with him so that made him all that much cooler to you “surprised to see you got here before you got knocked by another car.” His words made your face drop as your eyes went wide “excuse me?” You sucked at your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him.

Sidney hadn’t even acknowledged that Kris was around yet “you couldn’t even use your eyes to see that I was driving.” That comment made you gasp as pieces began to click in your mind “you’re jackass!” You gasped feeling your jaw go slack “sorry could like someone maybe catch me up?” Kris pleaded as he grew confused.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to turn your glares at him “someone is just an entitled-” he was cut off as doctor McLane walked into the area joining the three of you “I’m so happy to se you’ve made it!” She clasped her hands together as she saw you.

Melissa turned her attention to the two players “I’m glad to see you’ve met the new physio intern y/n F-” before she could finish introducing her you had to interrupt “just y/n will do.” You smiled sending her a nod.

Before you had the chance to continue the argument with Sidney you were knocked off of your feet as he pushed past you to get to the locker room “I promise the rest of the guys will be easier than that.” Kris sent you a smile as he helped you back up. If only he really knew how awful that day would get.

Sidney couldn’t believe that luck had been so against him today as you had to show up at work today, the one place he truly thought that he could get away from young people who thought they knew more than they did.

But not even how much you had pissed him off could have stopped him from smiling as he accepted that FaceTime call from Marc-André “you will not believe the day I’ve had.” Sidney sighed as he sunk into his seat “hope y/n didn’t have too much to do with that.” Your father teased as you used to run laps around Sidney when you went through the phases of having Sidney as your favourite penguin.

It made Sidney stop in his tracks though as the question weighed on his mind “how do you know about her?” The words left his lips quicker than he could have thought about it “did you forget the part where I fathered her?” The older boy laughed as he spoke in a duh tone.

If you had known about the way that the colour drained from Sidney’s face you honestly would have been upset that you hadn’t been there to see it in person “do you seriously not remember how I told you that y/n was going to be the new intern for the physios.” Marc-André couldn’t see Sidney’s response as he dropped his phone.

This meant that not only was Sidney going to have to put up with you, it also meant that he was going to have to act like he liked it too.

[ghostofhyuck]

Taguan ng Anak series 2

Daycare teacher! Renjun x office worker! Reader

Summary: After breaking up with each other, Renjun couldn’t help but wonder how you easily moved-on because he assumed that you and Jaemin had a daughter.

Well, miscommunication happens a lot.

cw: mentions of pregnancy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

His bright smiles and warm greetings is what makes mornings in the daycare center bright.

Renjun makes sure to greet his students personally, calling them with nicknames that he created for each one. The parents loved him and some mothers even swoon at how young and good-looking he is. But Renjun is unfazed with them, and even kindly rejects their advantages.

The daycare center is bustling with the noise of children with curious minds, and yet, it is what makes Renjun love being a daycare teacher. These children have so much potential and it’s great to start them young too.

A knock on the door disturbs Renjun, classes will start in ten minutes and it seems like this is the last of the bunch.

“Welcome — Jaemin?” Renjun’s eyes grew when he saw a familiar face.

“Hey Renjun! Long time no see!” Jaemin smiles, pulling Renjun in a small hug. Still the same Jaemin from college, Renjun thinks.

“What are you doing here? I mean —”

“Yeah yeah, what a coincidence right? Anyways, I’m here to drop Lila off,” and from behind, a little girl shows up.

Renjun’s smile faded when he noticed how the little girl resembled someone so much. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint especially when the kid’s literally a carbon-copy of that someone.

“Now be a kind girl and listen to your teacher, okay Lila?” Jaemin tells the little girl. “Mama will pick you up later so just be patient and wait for her okay?”

“Okay dada!” Lila answered brightly, while Renjun just felt his heart break into the tiniest bits.

“Fine, bye now!” Then Jaemin glances at Renjun and smiles meaningfully, “see you around Renjun.”

As he watches Jaemin walk away from the scene, Renjun couldn’t help but wonder what the scene earlier was about.

“Teacher? You’re my teacher right?” He only snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Lila pulling the sleeves of his cardigan.

“Oh right! Yes, come inside now and take a seat,” he said gesturing to Lila to come inside even though the scenario earlier still plays in his mind.

Lila uses your surname. Why didn’t Renjun notice it on his class records? It was weird that she didn’t take Jaemin’s last name but still, Renjun couldn’t help but feel very bitter that you’re in a happy family with Jaemin.

You two were college sweethearts. It’s weird to reminisce about his relationship with you in the middle of his student’s drawing activity but it was peaceful and yes, Renjun still couldn’t get the scenario out of his mind.

Everyone envied your relationship. They hoped that the two of you could be together forever and the two of you thought that it’ll be like that. It was until graduation season was nearing, both of you became busy with your academics and sometimes misunderstanding would ensue. Tired from the academic pressure and the lack of time for each other, you two called it off.

Renjun hoped for second chances, trying to look for you during your graduation rites but he was informed that you left immediately after getting your diploma. Renjun tried to reach out for you but it seems like you blocked him everywhere.

He saw it as a sign, so Renjun moved on and focused on his career instead.

Now it bothers him. Hearing nothing from you for years and in a split second, you have a daughter and Jaemin as your husband.

“Teacher, I’m done!” His trail of thoughts disappeared when Lila tapped her paper on his desk, talking about good timing.

“Okay Lila, let me see…” if it wasn’t the scene earlier that hurt him, then maybe Lila’s drawing can.

“What a nice portrait!” Renjun exclaims, trying to not sound bitter. “It seems like you have a happy family Lila.”

“Thank you teacher!” Lila smiles and Renjun knows that she got her smile from you.

The day passed by so quickly. It was a good thing that the kids weren’t that stressful. No broken objects, no kids crying and fighting, and no food was spilled. Renjun assumes that maybe this day wasn’t that bad after all.

One by one, the kids were being picked up by their parents. Renjun made sure to greet and bid farewell to his students and their parents. The sun was almost setting and the skies were turning golden. Renjun goes back to his teacher’s desk when his eyes catch the attention of the last kid in his classroom.

“Where’s your dad Lila?” Renjun asked.

“He’s not here,” Lila mutters, making Renjun raise an eyebrow.

Lila lets out a sigh and faces her teacher, “Mama’s going to pick me up.”

“Well maybe she’s running a little late,” the older guy stated.

“Mama’s always late, she’s super busy and her boss doesn’t let her go easily,” Lila complains.

Renjun places his hands under his chin, thinking about you who’s probably a workaholic — seems like you haven’t changed.

“Do you want to call her or your dad?” Renjun offers, grabbing his phone when the door slammed open.

“Sorry! So sorry!” and there you are, a sweating mess. Hair dishevelled and handbag barely hanging on your shoulders. It seems like you even ran all the way in your heels.

“Mama!” Lila shouts in joy, running towards you and hugging your legs.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry for being late, just a minute — “

“Hi,” Renjun greets awkwardly.

You could only clear your throat. Suddenly, your hands become cold as you come face to face with your ex-boyfriend.

“Renjun, it’s been a long time,” you smiled. “You’re a teacher now, oh my god — I didn’t know that you’ll be Lila’s teacher.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you’re with Jaemin now,” Renjun chuckles. Trying to lighten up the moment.

“What do you mean?” you raised an eyebrow.

You saw how Renjun’s face became confused, “Jaemin is Lila’s dad right? I mean, he dropped her off earlier and she called him “dada” so…”

Your heart started to beat fast. “Not like this,” you thought. You always know that Lila’s habit of calling Jaemin, “Dada” will cause some misunderstanding. You already told your daughter to stop it but it seems like she’s gotten used to it and Jaemin being Jaemin, enables it.

“Jaemin’s not Lila’s father…” you whispered. Hands started to feel clammy and as you look at Renjun, you remember the only man you loved. “You are…”

“What!?”

Graduation season was a hell for you. Cramming academic requirements, trying to find time to be with Renjun, and the small misunderstandings that came because the two of you are too busy to be with each other. It led you to numerous breakdowns and submerging yourself into loneliness thinking that it was better to call it off rather than be a burden to Renjun.

You only discovered that you’re one month pregnant right before graduation. You thought that those morning sicknesses and nauseousness were signs of your stress since you’ve always been like that whenever examination weeks occurred. It never crossed your mind that you might be pregnant since you and Renjun have always been safe during your intercourse — which happens to be wrong. Thinking that it’s better for you to raise it alone, you cut Renjun off and raised Lila alone.

Jaemin only discovered it by accident when you bumped into him two years ago, since then, he’s nothing but a supportive uncle to Lila. Sometimes he tends to cross some lines like Lila calling him “dada” but that’s just it. He helps you with looking after Lila especially now that work has become heavier for you.

You really don’t have any plans on telling Renjun but it seems like fate’s making a way for you to meet him again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Renjun asked. He wasn’t angry, but his tone can tell how much it hurts him that you hid these things from him.

“I don’t want to ruin your future Renjun,” you confessed. Leaning against the chair across his desk. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“That’s stupid you know that? Don’t you know how much I looked for you during our graduation? Don’t you know how much it hurts to see that you blocked me?” Renjun’s voice became shaky, he was trying hard not to cry. It’s hard for him to accept that you’ve been hiding his daughter from him for years.

“I’m sorry Renjun, I am really sorry,” you stand up from the chair, hand gripping tightly on the strap of your handbag. “I know that there’s nothing I can do to ask for your forgiveness and if you want, I can stay out of your way —”

“You’re going to push me away again?” Renjun said in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.”

“Then what do you want me to do then!?” you asked, eyes nearing tears.

Instead of answering you, Renjun approaches you and for a moment. You tried to avoid his touch, but you could’ve sworn that nostalgia hit you right at that moment. Every memory you had with him comes rushing as if it was a sign that no matter what, he will always be your first love.

And as his hands found his way to your arms and waist, you couldn’t help but embrace the warm feeling that you’ve been longing for. You could only lower your head as tears started to pour.

“Hey, don’t cry now,” Renjun whispers to you. “I’m here now, I’ll be here from now on, don’t you want that?”

“Renjun…”

“We’ll make it work this time okay? Through hardships and everything, we’ll be together,” and with his words came a gentle kiss on the forehead which he always did back then.

“Okay,” it was the only thing you could whisper as you closed your eyes and thought that everything will be fine now.