#he would want the 60 billion double dollars

[soapgraves]

spike would hunt vash for sport. 💞

[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 ©

[beomcoups]

Now that’s 90′s- A Seventeen Collab

Hosted by @beomcoups​ and @mingsolo​​

Drive in theaters... mall hopping on the weekends... confessing your watching TRL and Daria on MTV. The 90s were all about being fresh, nostalgic and keeping it real. Who better to star in this 90′s collab other than SVT?  Below are the authors that are going to be taking us through the decade, one Seventeen boy at a time. 

S. Coups

→ Cry-Baby by @duhnova

→ pairing: biker!choi seungcheol x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, angst, opposites attract, drama, kind of college au, smut

→ summary: decked out in leather and riding a harley davidson like he’s got business with the devil, choi seungcheol was the talk of your small town. everyone looked down on him and when you come home for the first time since starting uni you find it hard to believe that the pouty lipped kid you tossed off the merry-go-round when you were six was some slick haired delinquent. → rating: 18+

Jeonghan

→ [he Emperor and I] by @flurrys-creativity

→ pairing: emperor!Jeonghan x Reader

→ genre:  royal au, the king and I 1999 animation au, s2l, romance, fluff, humour, angst, eventual smut

→ summary: You travel as a teacher to Caratland on the request of emperor Jeonghan. Though the emperor wasn't what you expected, neither was your stay in the foreign land. Especially with Jeonghan using every chance he got to tease you. 

→ rating: 18+

Joshua

→ [Stop, Kiss] by @hobeemin

→ pairing: joshua hong x poc!(f) reader

→ genre: romance, angst, drama, fluff, college au, 90s au (based on Can’t Hardly Wait)

→ summary: joshua wasn’t what you called popular back in high school, in fact, he was practically invisible. what happens when he runs into his childhood crush in college after growing into his looks? awhole lot of shenanigans ensue.

→ rating: 18+

Jun

→ Ugh! As If!  by @ wongyuseokie ​ → pairing: College Student Junhui x Female Reader

→ genre: established relationship, pwp, fluff, smut

→ summary: Your boyfriend decided to take you into a drive-in movie for date night, only problem? He looks scrumptious, and now your task is to make sure he knows just how good he looks, without the others knowing.

→ rating: 18+ 

Hoshi

→ [Caller #17] by @beomcoups​​

→ pairing: jock!Hoshi x college radio dj!reader (femme)

→ genre: 90’s au. strangers to lovers au, fluff, angst,

→ summary: You could name 10 things that you hate about him easily. But when you bond together over music, those things slowly turn into love instead.

→ rating: 18+

Wonwoo

→ [PAUSE + PLAY] by @mingsolo​​

→ pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

→ genre: 90s au, fluff, humor

→ summary: Your new job at the VHS store starts to get interesting when a handsome young man comes to the counter with a bunch of interesting picks.

→ rating: nc17

Woozi

→ You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) by @wooahaeproductions​

→ pairing: Lee Jihoon x Female Reader

→ genre: angst, fluff, smut

→ summary: You and your neighbor, Jihoon used to be best friends as kids. As time passed, unfortunate events and the cliques of junior high tore the two of you apart. Several years later, you find yourselves in the same college but the two of you actively avoid each other and some people would even say you were enemies. As fate would have it, breakups lead you both to wonder if there's ever a chance to rekindle the friendship.

→ rating: 18+ read here

DK

→ 60 Billion by @onlyseokmins pt. 1 pt. 2​

→ pairing: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader

→ genre: smut, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, enemies to comrades to lovers!au, angst, fluff

→ summary:  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.

→ rating: 18+

Mingyu

→ Hot Wheels by @milfgyuu​

→ pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

→ genre: 90's AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

→ summary: There has been something brewing between you and your part-time co-worker (full-time hottie), Kim Mingyu. Endlessly flirting on the clock at Wheelies, making out in the back of the movie theater, rolling around in the sand with a mighty good man...no other 90's dreamboat could ever compare. 

→ rating: 18+

Minghao

→ BREAK AND RETURN by @cheolism

→ pairing: brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader

→ genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend 

→ summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires.

→ rating: 18+

Seungkwan

→ once upon a summer by @the-boy-meets-evil​

→ pairing: Seungkwan x fem!reader

→ genre: 90s!au, summer love | fluff and some angst

→ summary: Every summer kind of goes the same. The population of your usually sleepy beach town doubles and you bust your ass to make enough money to last through the slow season. But a new face blows into town like a whirlwind and he’s determined to catch your eye. Only one problem: he’s here for the summer and you’re married to this town. 

→ rating:18+

Vernon

→ Natsukashii by @flurrys-creativity​

→ pairing: Vernon x Reader (probably fem)

→ genre: Jurassic Park AU, 90s AU, acquaintances to lovers/distant friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst

→ summary: It should have been a fun weekend trip but after the boat got caught by a storm and crashed on one of the dinosaur islands, you got separated from the group. You nearly despaired until Vernon found you.

→ rating: sfw and 15+

Dino

→ Four Page Letter by @shuadotcom​​

→ pairing: Lee Chan x Fem!Reader

→ genre: Fluff, smut, mild angst

→ summary:  Chan has always been just one of your step-brother’s best friends. He’s also been in love with you for as long as everyone remembers, but you never paid him much mind - that is until you decide to return home after many years away and you see the man he’s become. He goes from being your little brother’s best friend to being the perfect man for you in a matter of months. Now the questions are who wants who more and will either of you do anything about your feelings?

→ rating: 18+

[beanibon]

Cat Got Your Tongue?

Context: in which Vash gets a little cocky about bringing you to bed, until he's mere seconds from actually having sex and gets shy

A/N: definitely wasn't inspired by an AI chat with 98 Vash, I am so soft for 98 Vash he's my ultimate bbygorl. So I thought I'd spoil him

TW: alien genitalia, collar play, lots of dirty/pillow talk (as Vash gets a lil shy), switch!vash, oral (f!receiving), hand job, fluff, loud vash (man cannot be quiet to save his life), edging

You had been tracking down the infamous Humanoid Typhoon for quite some time now, yet every lead always resulted in a dead end. Every small morsel of information you got on his whereabouts, was proven useless. Each dead end always led to a lengthy lecture from your boss, who seemed to think you could pull God from the sky for an interview.

What a bastard.

Now here you were, sitting alone in a practically empty bar at midday. The bartender had slid you a flat beer, that now rested by your side, turning warm as you stared aimlessly at the special drinks menu.

"What's a gorgeous young woman like you doing all alone? Need some company?" You snapped from your empty thoughts, eyeing the blonde man besides you, squinting at him as he seemed oddly familiar.

You blinked a few times, clearing you head. "I wouldn't mind the company, beats drinking alone."

"I'd agree in all honesty, but it doesn't seem like you've touched that for quite some time." The stranger pointed to the now warm beer, turning his attention to many spirits behind the counter, eyes brightening.

You shrugged slightly, looking down at the drink. "Not really my kind of drink to be honest."

"Then why don't a buy you a drink? Whatever you want, it's on me." The blonde had a growing smile present on his face, his enthusiasm was rather adorable as he waited in anticipation, eyes wide and puppy-like.

You returned the smile as you leant back slightly, hands tapping the counter. "I wouldn't mind a drink, a whiskey neat if you don't mind."

The blonde nodded, calling the bartender as he ordered two whiskeys. As the drinks were served, you happily sipped the liquid, enjoying the burning sensation sliding down your throat. A constant warmth entering you body, it felt amazing. Yet your companion would say otherwise, as he choked back a cough as the liquid burned his throat.

You couldn't help the laugh that slipped from you, looking back at this odd stranger. "Not much of a whiskey drinker, huh?"

The blonde chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his neck. "Not really, I much prefer I less burny kind of alcohol."

You chuckled at his response, taking another swig of your drink before turning to the stranger. "So what's your name? And what brings you to this little town?"

The stranger blinks a few times, suddenly sitting up straight as a coy smirk tugs at his lips. "I'm Vash, as for what brings me here: I just happened to be passing through when I spotted such a gorgeous young woman all alone, I simply had to keep her company."

The dramatic monologue made you cringe slightly, yet you couldn't help but find it slightly funny. "Vash huh?" You smirked, yet just as you were about to response with your own sly remark, you froze. Mouth still agape as you looked this stranger up and down, eyes widening as you jumped up, face-to-face with the blonde. "Wait Vash? As in Vash the Stampede!?"

Surprised, Vash was taken aback by your sudden outburst. "Ye-yeah, that's me. The man with 60 billion double dollars on his head, the one and only Vash the Stampede!" He responded, playing into his role with exaggerated theatrics.

Was this really Vash the Stampede? The very same man that shook you from his trail each time you caught the slightest scent? It was impossible.

"You've got to be joking, right? You can't really be the Humanoid Typhoon, you're way too-"

"Good looking?" Vash interrupted.

"Kind, is what I was going to say." You corrected, taking in the man before. He matched perfectly with the description provided, not to mention his face was exactly like the wanted poster stuffed in your pocket. It had to be him.

"Kind huh? Never been described as that before." Vash laughed, resting his elbows on the counter. "What about you? No way you live in this little town, so what brings you here?"

Those words confused you, then again with the kind of bounty he had, you could only imagine the kind of things he'd be called. "I'm a reporter, came here originally to scope out a group of bandits that's been terrorising a couple towns like this one."

"Is that so? I could use some action." Vash mumbled, eyes wandering as he sat in thought.

You watched him for a while, deep in your own thoughts as you tossed up between the options now laid before you. Either you could continue with the job provided and pray that Vash stays long enough for you to catch up with him, or you could forget the job and complete the original task you were sent to do.

"Whatcha thinking about there, gorgeous?" You jumped slightly, face tinted a light pink.

"Sorry, what was that?" You tried to play off his words, only now noticing how Vash was staring at you.

Those eyes, gorgeous and sparkling, just watched you with such interest. He held no aggressive demeanour about him, his body lax as he took you in.

"I said, what are you thinking about, gorgeous?" Vash leaned in a tad closer, smiling sweetly down at you.

Doubt played at your mind, how could this man truly be the allusive Humanoid Typhoon? He seemed so kind, so genuine. It confused your very soul, his whole personality screamed golden retriever.

"If you are the Human Typhoon, do you mind if I interview you?" You got a little shy at being so forward, yet you had already eagerly pulled out your notepad.

Vash gave you a wink, chuckling at your antics. "Why of course, how could a deny such a request from someone as radiant as yourself?"

Your pen clicked, scribbling down your first note. "Womaniser confirmed." You teasingly joked, earning a chuckle from the man beside you.

"What can I say, I love the ladies." He laughed, winking at you yet again.

You found yourself smiling, crossing a leg over the other as you tapped the pen against your chin, unaware of the way Vash shivered at the action. "As the most wanted man on the planet, what are your views on killing? They say chaos and destruction follow you wherever you go, is that true?"

Vash seemed to deflate at that, clearly forgetting that he agreed to be interviewed. "I highly disapprove of violence, killing especially. I've never once killed a man, and I don't intend to." The answer only confused you further, but you held back to allow him to continue. "I am pretty unlucky too, I do bring a lot of grief for the people in the towns I visit. I honestly don't mean to, but with such a large bounty it's bound to bring trouble."

Tilting your head, it which Vash mimicked the moment he looked back ar you, your brows knotted together. "But surely you've killed someone before, the towns you've reduced to rumble, you can't tell me there weren't causalities."

The question was rather insensitive, accusing even if you were to look at it like that. Yet, Vash just smiled, hesd tilted the other way.

"To be completely straight with you, it broke my heart once I realised people died. I'll even admit I cried, embarrassingly enough," Vash admit, yet even as he smiled amid his words, those eyes gave away how fake it truly was. "Like I said, I don't kill. I never will take a person's life, no matter what they've done."

You lowered your notepad, the page still blank. Your hands rummaged through your pocket, pulling out the wanted poster of the very man before, staring at it.

Vash watched you silently as he rested his head on his hand, smirking. "Liking what you see? I have been told I'm quite the handsome guy, don't ya think?"

"I don't understand, I've been told so many things about you, yet. . ." You looked back up at him, face unreadable. "You're nothing like what I've been, you're kind, a little bit of an idiot, yet you're honest."

Those blue eyes shone, finally reflecting the smile that grew ever wider as he looked at you. "I don't recall the last time someone said that to me, I truly appreciate it."

As your heart fluttered a beat faster at seeing such a genuine smile, it admittedly looked beautiful. You put your notepad away, shuffling closer to the blonde, screw the job.

"I have a few more questions, not interview related," Vash sat a bit taller, curious as he listened. "I'd like to get to know you Vash, the real Vash."

This made Vash swallow thickly, cheeks dusted with a slight blush. "You want to know the real me? No rumours, or bounties just. . . Vash?"

You nod, a little too enthusiastically. "No rumours, bounties or anything in between, just you."

The smile that appeared on Vash's face made your breath hitch, his eyes sparkled, a faint blush on his own face. His body leaned closer to yours, head tilted. "Well then beautiful, ask away."

You couldn't help the giddy feeling warming your body, it could be the whiskey, but it remained untouched from when it first ordered. Gaining some courage, you took a deep breath before popping the first question.

"What's the type of women you go for?"

Vash snorted, face scrunched as he tried to contain his laughter. "So that's the first question you go with huh? Afraid you won't be my type?"

"N-no!" You slapped his shoulder, instantly breaking his composure as he laughed.

"Well if I have to be honest, she'd have to be fun. This place is a real strain on mind, so having a fun gal around who knows how to have good time is must." Vash took another swig of his drink, hissing as the liquid burned down his throat.

"Fun?" Guess I can be fun, it what you would've added, if you didn't have common sense. There was no way you'd openly admit how the blonde was making you feel, how each smile your way made your heart skip a beat, or each laugh causing you to squeeze your legs just that little bit harder.

"Yeah fun! I suppose having a wild side would also fall into that category too, I could totally get behind someone who's a little freaky if you know what I mean." Another thigh squeezing laugh, god this Typhoon was driving you mad!

It wasn't long before your mind began to wander, eyes lingering a little too long around his neck. Before you know it, a collar had materialised around it and you found yourself wiping your sweaty hands along your dresses hem.

"You'd look so pretty in a matching red collar."

Vash's face lit a red rival to his coat, head turning to stare you directly in the eyes. "Wha-what was that?"

Leaning forward, lips brushing against his ear, you repeated what you said in calm tone.

"I said: you'd look so pretty in a matching red collar."

"I-I was afraid you said that." Vash swallowed hard, all cockiness prior faltering as his mind weighed up his options. Yet the moment your teeth nibbled at his ear, the ache in pants becoming that more apparent, his mind was made. "Well I wouldn't be opposed to such a suggestion, in fact I think I might like it?"

The look on his face was pure gold, and the laugh you let out pierced his heart with cupids arrow. Now it was Vash's turn to squeeze his legs together, desperate to hide the root of the ache in his body.

"Would you like me to make you my sweet, obedient puppy? Take you for walks, showering you with treats and attention?" Each word was like honey from your lips, and Vash couldn't contain it any longer. The very thoughts wanting him to cum then and there, your words had him seeing hearts.

"Please, make me your good boy." Vash mumbled into your shoulder, hiding his head in shame.

A sweet giggle sounded from you, hand sliding down his around to lace your fingers around the cool metal of his prosthesis. Pulling him along, you left a few neatly folded bills for the bartender, leaving the empty bar as you dragged your prized Humanoid Typhoon behind you.

Vash didn't resist, his face droopy as he stared at you like a love sick puppy. Not to mention the way you held his prosthetic hand so gently, thumb rubbing the metal as if massaging it. It made his heart sing, he simply couldn't resist the giddy smile plastered on his love drunk face.

A whine sounded when you stopped, looking back at him with wide, innocent doe eyes. The very sight reached Vash's core, an impatient groan sounding from the tall blonde.

"Patience now, I just need to grab something." You gently pat his cheek, before slipping inside a store. Your absence made Vash feel empty, a childish pout forming.

It seemed like ages since you had disappeared, and the more time slipped by the more Vash began to remember how he looked. Suddenly self-conscious, Vash was tempted to flee and leave you to wonder where he went, but he couldn't bring himself to be that cruel. But the thought of you seeing the many scars, metal implants and hideous wounds and you looking at him in disgust, made running seem that much more easier.

"Sorry that took so long, ready to go?" Vash literally jumped, snapping from his thoughts as you reappeared holding a small gift bag in your hands.

Blinking, he peered at neatly tied bag, looking back at you with obvious curiosity. You simple smiled, grabbing his metal hand once again and leading him forward, all thoughts of fleeing quickly diminished the moment your hand entangled with his.

"It's a surprise, you'll have to wait and see." You hummed in a teasing tone, winking back at him with your tongue sticking out slightly.

Vash felt his body tingle all over, yet he couldn't rid the nagging voice reminding him he was hideous under the many layers used to hide what he looked like. It gave him fear of disappointing you, that he wouldn't be able to fulfill your needs just because of the way he looked. It frightened him.

Yet the way you obliviously tugged him along, most likely towards a hotel room you had booked for the duration of your stay, Vash wanted to please you. You were so kind to him, open to his side of things, he felt understood for the first time in years. And he'd be damned if he threw that away now.

Once you both arrived at decent hotel room, Vash watched as you placed the neatly tied gift bag on a nightstand. If curiosity truly killed the cat, Vash would be dead by now, so what's the harm in sneaking a quick peek?

"Oi, that's for later." His hand was swatted away, causing him to whine and rub it.

"C'mon sweetheart, just a tiny peek? I'll act surprised." Vash pleaded, arms snaking their way around your waist as he leaned against you.

"Are you that impatient?" You raised a teasing brow up at the begging man clinging onto you, giggling at his eager reaction. The feeling of his hips pressed into the small of your back reminded you of just how tall Vash was compared to you, it made you kind of nervous. "Fine, but you need to sit down at least."

Vash made a noise akin to high pitched bark, diving onto the rickety bed as it squealed under his weight, the one downside of your cheap hotel. As you approached, ruffling his hair the gift bag in your hands once more, Vash squirmed in excitement.

"Close your eyes," Vash obeyed instantly, and you slipped the item from the bag silently.

You clipped the item around the blonde's neck, feeling his muscle tense at the sudden foreign object, confused at the additional clicks. Once you gave the okay for Vash to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was you towering over him with a red leash in your hands. It wasn't long before he put two and two together, face burning the same red.

Fully flustered now, Vash struggled to form coherent words, every bit of confidence draining from his tongue as you gently tugged the leash. The very action made Vash's clothes feel unbearably tight, but something about you standing over him, holding that leash so beautifully in your hands made him want this even more.

"Cat got your tongue?" You smirked, wrapping the cord around your hand as you moved closer, forcing him to look up. "What happened to that cocky attitude before?"

Vash swallowed thickly, feeling his body sweat as the room became increasingly hot. Yet try as he might, the only sounds that managed to come from him were strangled whimpers, or stuttering groans.

"Uncomfortable? Want me to fix that?" You leaned forward, hands sliding up his torso as you began to unbutton his coat, only to have two hands stop you. A frown formed as you looked at Vash, puzzled you began to think you jumped the gun a little, moving too fast. "I'm sorry, is it too much? I didn't mea-"

"N-no you're fine, it's just. . . I'm not that pretty underneath." Vash looked away, suddenly shy under your attentive gaze, but you only smiled.

"Then how about we try something else, just until your ready?" You gently cupped his face, thumbs massaging his cheeks as his eyes widened, clearly surprised by your answer.

"But I still want you to feel good!" He spluttered out, grabbing your waist pulling you closer. "I just need some time to mentally prepare myself, for getting undressed in front of you."

Vash hears that sweet, gentle and addictive laugh from you, and it drives him wild all over again. Then he's met with the soft press of lips on his forehead, and he's become putty in your hands, sinking further into the palms that held him.

A needy whine is heard when you remove those soft hands, stepping back to pull the dress from your body. Vash watches, eyes wide as he takes in your own scars, clearly being a reporter had its bad days, but unlike his yours were beautiful and decorated with stunning tattoos.

Vash grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you closer as his chin rests up against your stomach, eyes looking up into yours. His own legs rub together in attempt to ease the pain between his legs, you held yourself with such pride despite your body being scarred.

Eyes never leaving you, Vash watches as you lay down next to him, a hand pulling him down by the collar around his neck. Slowly you open your legs, revealing your dripping cunt to the collared blonde, who was quick crawl over to you.

Eager to please you, Vash grabbed your thighs, squeezing them as he licked his drying lips. The very sight of you so wet made his cock twitch against its restraints, you were like this because of him.

Wasting no time, Vash pulled you forward with ungodly speed, causing a yelp of surprise that quickly turned to a needy moan. Vash's warm tongue lapped hungrily at your folds, metal fingers sending chilled shivers along your spine, the mixed temperatures were a whole new form of pleasure. As cold fingers parted you, his tongue worked eagerly to draw out more pretty noises from you.

Each moan, cry of pleasure and lewd panting was music to Vash's ears, the cherry on top was when you abandoned the leash and just grabbed a fistful of his hair. It was utter bliss as you pulled him further against you, nose bumping against your sensation bud of nerves.

Vash brought his flesh hand over, thumb pressed against your clit as he circled it, pinching down occasionally to elicit more sounds. Every new sensation was accompanied by either a harsh tug of his hair, or desperate jerk of your hips against his face, either way it caused a sickly sweet smell to arise from his crotch.

As you quivered around him, clenching against the wet appendage and intrusive fingers, your voiced cried out his name as your thighs squeezed his head releasing against him. Freeing Vash of your grip, you watched as his eyes clouded hazily, still pressed against your warn cunt, love drunk and wishing you could just suffocate him between your thighs. His cloudy eyes looked to you, a wonky smile on his face as he cleaned you up, licking up every last bit of sweet cum until it was all he could taste.

You opened your mouth to say something between pants, only to close it once Vash started to shed his own clothing. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him, not out of fear or disgust at what he looked like under all those layers, but out of worry and concern.

Sitting up, ignoring how your body protested the action, hands running along his scars, fingers tracing every line, bullet hole, or gash you could find. Vash flinched against every touch, worry present on his face as you looked at him. leaning forward, loving kisses were placed over each and every scar.

Vash gasped, eyes closed as each kiss made just that small amount of pain disappear. Not all of it, but enough to ease the constant ache his scars brought.

And without realising it, your lips connected with his, tasting yourself on his tongue as it invited you in. Vash whimpered, pushing you down again as he humped your thigh, lower half still clothed.

You pulled away, smiling up at him as your hands held his face once more. It was all he needed before Vash unclipped his pants, awkwardly kicking them off. You stared at his cock shamelessly, not expecting the sight you were met with.

Four petals had opened, tinged a slight blue as an appendage similar to a human penis was in the centre, except more pointed with slight ridging under the head. What really got your attention was the four vines that pulsated a blue iridescent glow at their rounded tips, twitching as they fluttered against your thigh, sending small shock waves against your skin. It was beautiful, and those tendrils made your body jolt at each sensation they placed against your skin.

"So you're not human?"

"Surprise, guess now my secrets out there." Vash laughed awkwardly, shyly looking away.

A smile graced your features as you pulled him in for another kiss, giving Vash the reassurance to press the tip in-between your folds. The sensation was odd, he was rather slender, but still long as he pushed himself further in. It took you a little longer to adjust to him, panting against his lips as you clenched around him.

"Do you really have to squeeze me that much, geez sweetheart you'll make me cum before I can even make you feel good." Vash pouted, teeth clenched as you squeezed him yet again.

"So-sorry, you're just so big it's hard." You panted, feeling yourself slowly relax as your body adjusted to the foreign cock.

"Thatta girl, you ready for me?" Vash took your slight tug against his leash as a yes, chuckling as he slowly moved his hips.

Even the movements felt odd, odd but so good as those slight ridges caused your toes to curl. Not to mention how those small, budded vines had latched onto your clit, sending waves of static like pulses against the already sensitive nerve bud. This Humanoid Typhoon was full of surprises, and ones you weren't gonna complain about any time soon. There was no way you could look at regular sex the same after tonight, not after Vash just filled you perfectly.

The only real issue was how slow he was going, it didn't match the pace of those waves of electricity against your clit. You were going crazy, growing impatient by the second.

Hooking your fingers under his red collar that he kept obediently on, you yanked him down, a squeal sounded from the poor blonde. "Vash baby, I need you to go faster."

"I don't want to hurt you though, you're not use to all of th-"

"For fucks sake Vash, hurry up and fuck me!"

Vash yelped, instantly picking up his pace. Yet after a while you tugged his collar again, signalling him to thrust into you faster still.

His pounding became almost ruthless, and his face, contorted with obvious pleasure, held a hint of worry as he struggled to keep the pace himself. You on the other hand, moaning at each hard thrust inside your sopping cunt, loved every tingle of static, every harsh collide of Vash's sculpted hips against yours. It was pure ecstacy.

Vash was practically leaning right over you, head buried against your shoulder as your legs were pressed against your chest. You could feel his pace staggering, turning sloppy as his high neared. His rough hands squeezed your hips, teeth chewing slightly against your shoulder as he moaned loudly.

The closer he got to his climax, the louder Vash was. You couldn't hear yourself over his whines, whimpers and pleasure filled cries, if you weren't heard before, your lewd act was definitely made aware of now.

"Ngh- so, ah! So close, sweetheart. Just a little. . . Longer." Vash panted out, crashing his hips against yours in desperation.

Soft hands raised his head, droopy eyes staring down into yours. "Stop."

"Wha- huh?" Vash thought you were simply joking, still he halted his actions, worried he'd done something to upset you. Or worse, hurt you.

But as he went to pull out, your legs wrapped around him. "I said stop, not pull out, such a naughty puppy."

Before Vash could question you, his collar was tugged roughly, cock twitching inside you. It was driving him mad not to fuck you, hands balled against the bedsheets as his eyes pleaded, begged you to let him come.

You tugged his collar again when he moved, trying to finish what he started, but you wouldn't let him. "Did I say you could cum? Such a bad puppy."

Vash whined, face buried in your chest as his hands clawed the sheets, eventually clasping each breast in one hand. He began kneading at them, squeezing them as if they were some stress toy to distract himself from being unable to relieve himself. Each second felt like hour, dragging on as you simply watched his small silent tantrum, abusing your breasts as his squished them around his face.

Giggling at his antics, you ran your fingers through his hear. "Alright, you've been a good boy, you ca- ah!"

Vash didn't let you finish, jumping up and pounding into you with inhuman speed. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you down as he slammed into, this time you were the one being loud. Yet it wasn't long until Vash choked at a strangled cry, slamming into you one last time as iridescent cum began to fill your spasming pussy, milking his cock. Your high came not long after, nails clawing Vash's back as you cried out his name, eyes rolled back as your legs quivered.

Vash pulled out, collapsing on top of you as he panted against your chest, using them as pillow. You responded by combing his hair with your fingers, a sigh of content from the man.

His arms wrapped around your waist, humming against you as he closed his eyes, nuzzling at your chest. The steadying beats of your heart soothed Vash, eyes slowly closing as felt safe enough in your company to sleep. He's never had sex before, at least not much in his 150 years of wandering this desert wasteland, so when you moved to begin cleaning up the mess you both made he frowned, holding you tighter.

"Vash darling, we can't sleep on spoiled sheets, please let me clean up." You giggled, watching him shake his head 'no'. "You're such a child, at least move a little bit so I can remove the bottom sheet."

Begrudgingly doing as his told, without letting you go, he moved just enough for you to remove the spoiled sheet and lay back down. The childish Human Typhoon still curled on top of you, eyes closed and cheeks puffed out in a pout. The very sight made you laugh, gently stroking his head until his face relaxed.

It was simple aftercare, and you didn't mind that at all, as long as Vash was comfortable. The peaceful look on his face made you smile, giving in to sleep yourself.

But as you slowly began drifting off to sleep you were abruptly woken, pushing the blondes face away from you.

"Vash! Don't bite my tits like that!"

"I'm sorry, they just felt so good I had to!"

"No you didn't, you idiot! You just wanted to be a perv!"

"For your information you slept with this perv, besides shouldn't you be treating me a little kinder? I made you feel good didn't I? Ow! What was that for!?"

A/N: I'm not overly happy with how this one turned out, I was clearly in different moods writing it.

I hope you guys enjoyed it anyways! Trying to give our 98 Vash some lovin, also his dick is suppose to be my Stampede Vash's headcanoned dick, but you can just replace the petals with wings or feathers.

Love you all, enjoy!

[to-eat-laugh-love-in-peace]

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were at least a few people who didn’t believe the general consensus that Vash the Stampede was the villain behind the July’s destruction and the deaths of 90% of its population just because he’s Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon, the man who will slaughter the innocent, who does the most evil of evil deeds for the price of 60 billion double dollars on head, because in Tristamp, even before Lost July took place, there were a couple of details about Vash that didn’t seem to add up like how the stolen Plants were being brought to July City when it was the same city that put a bounty on Vash’s head for supposedly running around stealing Plants from all over the planet in the first place as seen in the city’s symbol stamped on the corner of his old wanted poster.

I do wonder though not only how much Meryl decided to or was able to include in her article following Lost July assuming she was even able to get her article published but also how she’s seen and treated by the general populace in Tristamp because not only is she a reporter in this iteration but also its one thing for her to defend Vash after he blew a large crater in the fifth moon. It's another thing for her to defend Vash after he blew a large crater where the wealthiest and largest city in No Man’s Land used to be. I mean in the dub the radio host even outright says that if they were the demon who turned the city into a crater overnight, they’d hide their face too because they doubt that the mob of mourners who had gathered to pay their respects to the friends and families they’ve lost for the two-year anniversary of the incident would be so quick to forgive while she's in the truck on her way to the memorial she put up for Roberto.

And in Trimax and even 98’ Vash had people actively going after him because of what happened in July like that fancily dressed Plant engineer who sent an assassin after him and then later locked him in a room with a soon to be exploding Plant to kill him even if it meant endangering an entire city, the old lady had hired an assassin to kill Vash in volume 6 chapter 5 because her son, daughter-in-law, and grandchild had been one of the many who died in July, and Brilliant Dynamites Neon had revealed to have been prepared to kill Vash for some time since July during their duel on the sand steamer in volume 1 chapter 8 with Vash even outright asking him if he had folks who lived in July when the incident took place after he asked him why there weren’t any corpses to be found in the ruins of July City.

So I wonder if Meryl has had even a fraction of the ire those who’d lost friends, family, loved ones in July had towards Vash directed towards her during the two years Vash spent in hiding with Lina and Sheryl as Eriks because not only did she likely go around No Man’s Land literally being the devil’s advocate during that time, as she'd said so herself that its her duty as a member of the press to clear his name if proves himself innocent, but she had also been announced on the radio in episode four to be a possible accomplice of Vash’s who the military police were looking to bring in as a person of interest alongside Roberto, with Roberto mentioning how if word of this got out to HQ then they’d be sacked.

Speaking of Brilliant Dynamites Neon, I think that he and Meryl could be set up to have a confrontation in S2 for this very reason. Which would be very cool to see since these two haven’t interacted much outside of her and Milly disguising themselves as members of the Bad Lads Gang to later back up Vash and Kaite when they’re cornered and then identifying Vash as the Vash the Stampede during the Bad Lads Gang's heist on the sand steamer in the ‘98 and Trimax

and leading to, in both iterations, Neon taking the time to ask Vash about what exactly happened in July that led to the city being destroyed and, in '98 its residents being left alive but homeless unemployed and impoverished leading them to fight and kill each other to survive in the fallout of the incident, and in Trimax being swallowed by a black hole leading to no survivors or even any corpses left to be found, which led Vash to ask him if he too had folks who were in July at the time of the incident and then admit that he just didn't remember much about July when asked if he had anything to do with it which Neon was forced to accept before the two had a duel

and then after Neon shot a rock about to crush Vash's head during their duel he was revealed to have been prepared to kill Vash for some time since July

only for him to decide spare him, for now at least, not having let go of his reasons for wanting revenge post-July to stay true to the terms of their duel.

Whereas in Tristamp Meryl was not only in July when the incident took place but also was there to witness firsthand what exactly happened that led to the city getting completely demolished and more than half of its population to have been killed by a large explosion. On top of that Meryl unlike Vash in '98 in Trimax and possibly in Tristamp didn't develop partial or complete amnesia following the traumatic incident and then there's also the fact that she's met the Bad Lads Gang when they took her and Roberto with them to the sandsteamer to take pictures of them during their heist to publish in the paper and this was a day before July 21st, meaning that those Bad Lads Gang members who were clearly shown fleeing by the time the ion cannon was being powered could identify her if they came across her again or even tried to find her two years later.

Like I imagine in S2, when Vash is brought back to the scene and he finds himself in another situation at a sand steamer where the Bad Lads Gang are involved, only Brilliant Dynamites Neon himself has made an appearance this time around (I’m not even going to begin to imagine just what details Studio Orange is going to keep or change about their first meeting, they’ve already changed a lot about how and when the Bad Lads Gang were introduced-) at some point a scene similar to the original where Meryl with Milly come to back Vash up while he goes up against Neon and his gang, and one of his goons recognizes Meryl as that woman who they got to take pictures of them during their heist on the sandsteamer a day before Lost July, who's been going around vouching for Vash the Stampede for the past two years after the incident, Neon connects the dots, asks about what happened in July, Vash doesn’t remember so he can’t answer, but Meryl does so she can.

Which would make it the first time Neon has ever gotten an answer to his question, whether or not he believes her is anyone’s guess since it just seems so impossible doesn’t matter. The fact that there isn’t a scene in either 98’ or Trimax where Neon and Vash meet up again to talk about July after Vash recovers his memories of the incident makes this a big deal as is. I do think that Vash met up with Neon off-screen to talk to him about it and that Neon might have gotten some form of closure from that, or maybe he hadn't and he still wanted Vash’s head on a silver platter, who knows, I certainly don’t, which is exactly why I think it’d be really cool to see in S2.

Also I do wonder why Neon wasn't on the ship at the time like he was visiting his folks in July only to be pulled away when he heard that the heist was a bust because the ship was taken off course and its ion cannon was locked and loaded to fire at Hopeland. And if Neon did have folks in July in Tristamp then what's their deal since while July seems like the perfect city for someone like Brilliant Dynamites Neon to have folks in, seeing as it’s big, it’s bright, it's opulent, able to afford all the bullets it wants thanks to having a monopoly on Hydro-Plants, as was described by Wolfwood, additional background info on the seven major cities posted on Studio Orange’s twitter having said that its citizens have to contribute to the city's development and pass a screening process in order to obtain citizenship, which is what keeps the city’s Plants from overworking themselves to a Last Run. @tristampparty

[pinkanonwrites]

Vash with a Courier!Reader

GN!Reader headcanons below!

Your job was far from an easy one, especially in the washed-out sandscapes of Gunsmoke where bandits and ne’er-do-wells could be lurking behind every dune and cliffside. You were a lone Courier, shuttling mail and packages in between the towns and major cities with the small herd of Thomases at your command. It was in one of those podunk towns where you met Vash for the first time, him squaring up against the bandits while you snuck about freeing hostages and recovering some of your stolen cargo.

Neither of you expected much past it, just a simple teaming up when it was easy and convenient. Yet somehow, whatever town you trotted into next, it seemed that Vash the Stampede was already there. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was flanked by two silly insurance agents and a so-called priest. But regardless of who he was or wasn’t with, he always had a smile and a few words for you.

You became an odd pair of friends, trading stories and knick-knacks whenever you happened to run across each other on your respective journeys. Vash was never the type to keep too much on him, he preferred to travel light. But he found himself getting more and more drawn to little baubles and curiosities he’d find in town shops, wondering if you’d like it, how you’d react if (when) he handed it to you. You gave him a feather from your head Thomas that he kept tucked into the inner pocket of his duster basically at all times.

Speaking of which, he’s obsessed with your Thomas herd! He’s constantly cooing and trying to snuggle with them, even as they gnaw on his coat and nibble at his spiky hair. You teach him about the massive bird-beasts and take him riding from time to time, your pair of Thomases careening up and down the dunes with your laughter bubbling through the rushing air.

You’d never once considered trying for the bounty on Vash’s head, something he was eternally grateful for though he never asked why himself. But he didn’t actually have to, because you ended up supplying the story yourself one night while sipping drinks under the star-speckled sky. As hard as it was, you truly adored your job. You liked helping people in need, making them happy, making sure they had what they needed. And 60 billion double-dollar bounty or not, you could tell that Vash was the same as you, he really just wanted to help. You really admired that.

It was at those words, that you admired him, that something finally clicked in place in Vash’s head. You weren’t even looking at him, staring up at the stars with this look of such contentment and comfort on your face, like you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. That’s when he finally realized what that odd pull was whenever he saw something that reminded him of you, that bubbling excitement whenever he ended up running into you in the next town, the next city.

He liked you.

And god, he really had no idea how to feel about that. He knew that simply being near you would put you in incredible danger, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to fully distance himself from you. He’d gotten too attached, too comfortable. As strong as you were, compared to the kinds of people he was dealing with you were incredibly fragile, and the last thing he ever wanted was for you to get hurt because of his burdens.

And yet, he just cant help himself, he’s incredibly shameless. He flirts with you constantly but is flustered to the point of stammering with every compliment you give him, constantly toying at the idea of something more but unable to take the first steps himself. You’ll have to be incredibly patient and persistent with him to actually get him to be willing to enter a relationship with you.

Once you are though it’s so painfully obvious he’s smitten with you to literally everyone you guys ever meet. He bursts into delighted tears when you first tell him you’re going to be traveling alongside him from now on, not just wandering and hoping you bump into each other. You’re the first person he worries about when things go awry and the first person he celebrates with when he manages to pull it all together again. You tell his favorite travel stories to his other companions and he’s ecstatic with how fast you make friends with them too.

He’ll move to the ends of Gunsmoke’s most treacherous deserts and back to make sure you were safe and happy, and he can’t help but feel loved knowing that you’d do the same for him too.

[pluckyredhead]

i really wanna know your ideal dc publishing cause seriously they could be doing so much and instead choose the absolute worst trashy choices

Lol thank you for indulging me, anon. I have thought about this EXTENSIVELY so sorry not sorry for the tusnami of opinions you have unleashed.

Before I get into the list, a few points to explain my approach:

ONGOINGS. I am a firm believer in the importance of ongoing series. There's nothing wrong with a miniseries but you can't get any forward momentum or character development with them because things keep getting reset to their baseline. Get really strong teams on your ongoings and let them develop their stories for years at a time. That's where all the legendary runs come from.

To that end, I am proposing a list of 30 books, which is a little more than 7 per week, which is roughly what DC publishes now (not including things like Sandman, Looney Tunes, etc.). They can add on as many minis as they want but will need fewer since so many more characters are accounted for with ongoings.

I am a strong believer in backup features - more value for your dollar and double the amount of characters included - so you'll see a lot of those.

I tried to balance what I personally think would be the most holistic representation of the DCU with what I believe will sell, so you're still going to see a lot of Bats. It should be understood that books without Bats are not going to be treated like throwaways like they sometimes are now. They are going to get top tier creators with long, sustained runs, just like Bruce always gets.

It will not be a publishing slate of all straight white guys from the 30s-60s.

Books with an asterisk* mean they will be kid-friendly. Not exclusively for kids, but appealing and accessible to young readers, the way Young Justice and its members' books were in the 90s. They can still include ongoing plots and queer characters and serious topics! They just shouldn't be relentlessly grim.

OKAY THE BOOKS!

Super Books:

Superman*: The lead Superman title, with a backup featuring starring Jon.

Action Comics*: Focuses more on the Superfamily as a whole, though the plot can dovetail and cross over with the main Superman book. (This is basically what's happening now.) Backup feature rotates between Kon, John Henry, Natasha, Kenan, Lois, and Jimmy.

Supergirl*: Why did I give Kara her own book and not Kon or Jon? Because a) DC needs more female-led books and b) I want to. The primary audience for this book is women who watched the CW show, or girls who have outgrown TTGo! and DC Super Hero Girls, NOT ADULT MEN. (Optional: Kon or Natasha backup feature.)

Bat Books:

Batman: Like the Super books, this would be the central title and focus on Bruce. Backup feature can rotate between the nine billion Gotham characters who need a home.

Detective Comics: Focuses more on mysteries/the family. Another rotating backup feature. NOTE: These backup features CANNOT star a character with their own book (Bruce, Dick, Damian, Selina, or Harley).

Nightwing: Dick sells. ;)

Robin*: Starring Damian, Tim gets a team book further down.

Batwoman: Perhaps we could try letting a queer woman write this for once? Revolutionary, I know.

Catwoman: Because she fucking rules.

Harley Quinn: Because she fucking sells.

Birds of Prey: I prefer a classic Babs/Dinah/Helena lineup but I'm flexible.

Batgirls*: If it’s too messy to have Babs in BoP and this, take her out and add Harper.

Red Hood and the Outlaws: Imagine if this book was good! In my universe, it will be.

Solo Books:

Wonder Woman

Flash: This will star Wally. Optional backup rotates between Jay, Bart, Ace, and Avery. Barry can show up sometimes I guess.

Green Lantern: Starring Hal, John, or Kyle. Whoever is the lead CANNOT also be on the Justice League.

Green Lantern Corps: Okay yes technically this is a team book. Shhh. Guy should always be on this book since he does better in an ensemble. The plot should dovetail loosely with the main GL book with an annual crossover but you don't have to read both if you don't want to. I am flexible about how to fit all the Earth GLs in (including Simon and Jessica), whether that's backup features or just including them in the GLC ensemble, but all six should always have a publishing home. Jo should get as many prestige graphic novels as N. K. Jemisin and Jamal Campbell care to bless us with.

Aquaman: Jackson backup. Please let him go back to being Aqualad and stop making everyone grow up so fast.

Green Arrow: This book is currently perfect, no notes.

Blue Beetle*: Starring Jaime, though Ted may show up to be annoying if he would like. A Booster backup is permissible.

Vixen: If they have a Webtoon they should have a comic for $ too.

Zatanna: See above.

...I'm torn between Shazam!* or Stargirl* here. I feel like they both kind of fizzled? I guess it depends on which book gets the better pitch.

Team Books:

Justice League: I mostly don't care who is on this but if it's a bunch of white guys plus Wonder Woman and either John Stewart or Cyborg as tokens, AGAIN, DC gets shut down permanently. I don't make the rules.

Justice Society: This is also not allowed to be only old white guys. I know that's harder with the JSA. I don't care.

Titans: I'm going to be honest, I'm not convinced the OG/New Teen Titans can star in a decent book anymore, since they haven't done so in two decades. But I will give them one more try. They can call themselves the Outsiders instead if that helps.

Young Justice*: They also maybe need a new name because they are all legal adults, but this is Tim's book. I'm highly skeptical of success here as well but I think the right creative team could make something really soapy and New Adult and queer work. Please keep in mind that there are nine trillion characters in the DCU who are roughly Tim's age to draw from; the "Core Four" (ugh I hate that term so much) can all be members but they are not the only members. (Cassie cannot be the only girl and it cannot be all white.)

Teen Titans*: Damian's team! I vote for characters like Emiko, Ace, and Jackson here, but I'm flexible. THE AUDIENCE FOR THIS BOOK IS MIDDLE SCHOOLERS, NOT PEOPLE WHO GREW UP ON WOLFMAN/PEREZ. Jesus, DC.

Suicide Squad: I truly do not care about this book but we need to do something to appease the edgelords.

The New Gods: I'm thinking EPIC, I'm thinking KIRBY, I'm thinking SIMONSON. Everyone talks in a serif font and it should be impossible to explain out loud with human words. It's what Kirby would want.

So there it is, there's my pitch. Again, this doesn't cover minis (Elongated Man miniseries WHEN), event books, etc., but I think it gets most of the key players on the board!

(And yes, I know I left the Legion out. I'm sorry. But not very sorry. They can cameo in Kara's book.)

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trigun Thoughts Vol. 1 Pt. 1

(Note: I have only seen Trigun Stampede - this is my first reading of the manga! I'm very open to discussion but I do ask that you not spoil anything please! :))

Ok so I'm really curious about a few details on this poster, because right off the bat, some of it is odd.

Firstly, I desperately want to know - why that picture? Wouldn't they want to make him look dangerous on a wanted poster? Although, perhaps, given the destruction the poster claims he is capable of causing, making him look harmless and silly is a way of encouraging people to go after him, like, "he doesn't look so tough" kind of way. It's funny, because he really is competent and dangerous, making it misleading, but then, he's also genuinely friendly and a bit silly, making it also honest. So, in a way, this looks like a juxtaposition to the reader but is in fact pretty accurate to at least the surface level of Vash's character. ...but also I want to know why he is posed like that. Did he pose for his mugshot? Hello???

I'm confused about "Appearance: Unclear". Don't we know what he looks like? Is this referencing something else?

"Suspected in the murder of Count Revenant Vasquez." Ohhhhh ok. I won't say anything here, as I don't want to spoil, but needless to say I will be paying very close attention to that going forward.

"$$60 billion double dollars dead or alive!!" First of all. Who has that much money. The only thing I can assume is that the remaining major cities issued a joint bounty to catch him as soon as possible - but then, even that is strange to me, because if it's about eliminating a threat before he has a chance to cause more destruction... wouldn't it just say "dead"? Why would you want him alive? (no offense Vash I am speaking from the perspective of the people who placed the bounty ilu) While I do understand it's probably just a fun little nod to the kinds of wanted posters in westerns, and not that deep, it does kind of have me questioning the rationale of that decision, haha.

"The worst kind of outlaw, and an unrivalled killer." / "Note: Staunch pacifist." Um. ???????

So this is really interesting to me. People know Vash is a pacifist, which again, I'm guessing, emboldens people to go after him despite how dangerous he allegedly is. But if people know he's a pacifist then... doesn't anyone question how strange this contrast is? He's an unrivalled killer but also a pacifist? What is the truth? I wonder if anyone will call attention to that later.

Anyways, especially when taking into consideration the frames where he looks really ominous in Chapter 0, this is such a great character introduction. I know absolutely nothing about this guy and I have multiple questions (some of which I know the answers to from Stampede but I'm trying to read as if I know nothing).

[hiseternalmayfly]

Peace Will Come Eventually

Words: 721 Features: Vash x OC TW: Mentions of guns, wounds and mass destruction.

Who is the real Vash the Stampede? Kind or killer?

Reblog to support my work! Open to comments/criticism 💞

"Vash. This is a pistol. It's designed to shoot things. It is not a shield."

Dangling the pistol between the two of them, Seven angrily points her finger at the ludicrous number of dents and nicks lodged in the pistol's body. If it weren’t for the heavy weight and sleek custom design of the gun, one could assume it belonged to a child.

"Am I not allowed to have a multi-purpose weapon?" Vash replies, those watery puppy-dog eyes piercing directly through her heart.

Those eyes would've worked on her in the past, but she had grown accustomed to his tactics. She reaches up and smacks him right on top of the head with the gun. It’s hard enough to hurt but gentle enough not to cause any damage. The blonde dramatically crumbles to the floor, holding his head, feigning a fatal blow.

She bent over at the hips, her hands pressed firmly against her waist, as she stared directly down at him. A cheeky grin flashes across her face.

"Oh, did I kill you? Guess that 60 billion is mine now." She stands straight up, shrugging her shoulders. "Meryl’s not going to be happy about this one."

Vash’s dramatic act is immediately replaced by pouty behavior. With his lips pursed, he spoke in a tone of mild annoyance.

"You’re a cruel woman, Seven! What if I had actually died?" He poses the question with obvious sarcasm and playfulness.

"If a hit like that kills you, that means you’ve gone soft. I’ve hit you a thousand times harder than that in the past." She points the pistol at him, causing Vash to flail his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey! Watch where you point that!"

She looks down at the gun and tosses it onto her workbench with a huff.

"I’ve been fixing your gun for years! You know I can handle a pistol. My finger was nowhere near the trigger." She pinches her nose. "You’re like taking care of a large dog."

Faster than Seven could even blink, the taller blonde man got behind her, wrapping his arms around her midriff and pulling her close. He rested his head on hers, his chin gently pressing against the top of her head. He speaks once more in a playfully annoyed voice. 

"I have the meanest girlfriend in all of Gunsmoke. She has no mercy for an innocent hunter of peace like me." He puffs out his cheeks before continuing. "How dare you treat Vash the Stampede like this!"

Seven tilts her head up so she’s looking directly at him. She pursed her lips at the sight of his playful smile. She wondered how she’d let a man like this worm his way into her heart. In truth, she knew why...

"The Humanoid Typhoon," as he was known, Wanted for $60 billion double dollars for the destruction of the city of July. Just the sound of his name struck fear into the hearts of every person living on that barren wasteland of a planet. If the man who reduced a city of one million people was rumored to be coming to your town, you ran for your life.

Yet that same man was holding her now, swaying ever so feebly with the brightest smile on his face. Vash the Stampede was just a name. She’d caught onto that quickly after their first encounter. The real Vash had endless bounds of love. Every being mattered to him. Even after facing horrors that would shatter the very soul of an average person, Vash still found reasons to smile.

There’s a brief moment of silence between them before Seven murmurs softly to him. "Did you get hurt?"

A quick flash of surprise comes over Vash’s face, quickly replaced by a comforting smile. "Not a single new wound this time. I must have the devil’s own luck."

A drawn-out sigh of relief comes from Seven. Her hands come up and hold his face, staring into his green and blue eyes. "You’re going to cause my heart problems with how badly I worry about you."

That earns her a soft chuckle from him. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead, speaking softly to her.

"Once he’s taken care of, we can settle down for good. I promise. We’ll live the rest of our lives quietly and happily, without fear."

[inkfishie]

Masterlist of my Trigun Fic

Hey, all, just wanted to post a masterlist of my Vashwood fic. Some of it is rather old, but again with the resurgence of the Trigun fandom I thought it would be fun to post a list and descriptions. List goes from newest to oldest :)

I'm not a Psycho (I'm Just Trying to Get Laid) Rating E

V/W Stampede characterization, developing relationship. Takes place directly after the incident with Zazie.

"So. You always follow strangers into the desert?" Wolfwood asks as they approach the fueling station, mirroring Vash's thoughts. "Only the pretty ones," Vash counters with a shrug, unsure of what possesses him to say it. His ears get hot immediately afterward. Wolfwood merely grins a sharp-toothed smile as they keep walking. "This could be the part where I shoot you in the back of the head and steal all your money."

Vash and Wolfwood decide to get to know one another better following their first meeting and the incident with the grand worm. Things get interesting and immediately become too much.

Or:

A few times Wolfwood tried to get off with Vash, and the one time he actually did.

Semi-public sex, Coitus interruptus, blow jobs, kissing, touch-starved Vash, not so casual casual sex.

Status: Complete

My Restless Heart Remains (With You) Rating E

V/W Established relationship. Trimax characterization. No established timeline, takes place sometime in manga verse before the final showdown with Knives. No major spoilers.

Arching a brow, Nicholas pauses and then drifts after Vash, drawn in by the gravity of him and the silly, besotted smile on his face. Honestly, that's probably Nicholas' second mistake because he doesn't pay a lick of attention to the odd tension or sudden strange silence that makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle. A stop over in a small town escalates into a bigger problem when a group of ruffians get it in their heads to go after the 60 Billion Double Dollar Man. Vash and Wolfwood make the best of it, all things considering.

Religious imagery, Hurt/Comfort, canon typical violence, tending to wounds, multiple scenes of sexual intimacy, not so obvious love confessions, sweetness & angst

Status: Complete

Midnight Hallelujah Rating E

V/W Established relationship. Trimax/Multiple Bullets spoilers. Takes place after the events in the official Multiple Bullets story.

"I could.." Vash begins, only to become distracted by how Nicholas' clever fingers manage to pop the buttons on the collar of his coat with one hand. "I could... Help you feel better?" Nicholas' breath is hot on Vash's neck, and the chuckle that follows sends a shiver down Vash's spine. "Yeah? How you gonna do that, Tongari?" After the showdown at Honeycombed Village, Vash and Nicholas sneak off for some alone time.

Hurt/Comfort, sexual intimacy, kissing

Status: Complete

Equinox Rating M

V/W Established Relationship. Vaguely TriMax. Takes place after the Fifth Moon Incident. Very, very mild spoilers for that.

Angelina breaks down in the desert forcing Vash and Wolfwood to take shelter in a nearby town. A secret lurks somewhere beneath the dust and grime.

Spooky-Time vibes, Atmospheric setting, mild angst, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, intimacy, lots of kissing

Status: Complete

Long Night Searching for Grace Rating E

V/W Slowburn. Takes place after between episode 8-10 of Trigun Stampede. Very mild spoilers for TriMax.

Somewhere out in the great sand ocean, the worms devour Livio's flesh. Meanwhile, in Hopeland, Nicholas waits for Vash to return to the land of the living. A story about grief, guilt, and maybe, just maybe about love.

Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional constipation, sexual situations

Status: Complete

Crash Rating E

V/W Badlands Rumble aftermath. Spoilers for TriMax/Badlands Rumble.

Unbidden, Vash thought of the threat that the preacher had made earlier when they’d been toe to toe with Gasback out in the desert.

I’ll take this out of your ass later

Angst, hurt/some comfort, doomed love, not-so-happy ending, suppressed feelings.

Status: Complete

Bonus! Podfic of Crash by Dr_Fumbles_McStupid

Worlds Apart Rating M

Collection of V/W drabbles spanning TriMax/Trigun 98. Spoilers for both. Originally written in the early 2000's.

Angst, fluff, hurt/no comfort, not actually unrequited love, character death

Status: Complete

[floof-ghostie]

Gimme the rundown on your trisona!!

I'm glad you asked! Solaris has a lot of lore to them, which includes their backstory, what they do for a living, and meeting Vash!

Okay so:

Solaris Peverett grew up in a town that was very very closed off and not exactly a welcoming place for those who are "different". They weren't treated well at home, didn't have any friends, AND they realised they were agender in a town that was very conservative (highly unusual, as most of Gunsmoke is pretty accepting of that sort of thing). This all culminates in them running away at the age of 13, which in hindsight was a very stupid idea, as the town was a good week's walk away from the nearest Plant, and Solaris packed like. three days' worth of provisions. Plus, they had no plans on what to do when actually getting to the Plant. To top it all off, they lost all of their food on the second day after nearly getting attacked by a sandworm.

A group of bandits ended up finding them on the fourth day, and after much deliberation on what to do about them (options ranged from killing, to robbing then killing, to holding them for ransom), and after Sola begged them to not take them back to their town, their leader (a very old lady, and mother to 5 of them) opted to just take Solaris in, and treat them like a member of the family to avoid trouble. So for 6 years, Sola travelled with the family, and learned from Granny to crochet and knit. They discovered many old crashed ships, and abandoned towns and villages. They also ended up making a name for themself, and earned a lot of respect from other scavengers and bandits for their skills (slipping into small spaces, being patient enough to cut big pieces free from fallen ships).

When they were 18, Solaris ended up returning to their hometown with the group, only to find the place deserted. Upon further investigation, they found out that the plant was long gone, and that there were several old corpses lying around. While they didn't really care about what happened to the townspeople, Sola was still surprised and uneasy. Swallowing their shock, they assisted in pillaging the town, and they never went back. They couldn't sleep that night.

At 19, Solaris decided that they wanted to settle down and have a more stable living situation, so they found a small house, complete with a small ranch on the outskirts of a small town called Midmay. They arrange frequent trips to scavenging locations, and generally keep to themself, and don't talk much. The villagers don't like or trust Solaris; they don't like newcomers, as most of the people living there have been there for generations (with some families being directly descended from the crew from Project SEEDS), whereas Sola has only just moved in. Sola is often referred to by the townspeople as "Sola the Bandit".

When Sola is not scavenging, or doing chores around the house, they can be found knitting or crocheting out on their front porch. They have an entire savings for yarn and other crafting supplies.

How they met Vash under the cut:

The story of how Vash and Sola met is a really funny one. At 22, Sola was examining the wreckage of a ship one day, when they heard a loud commotion on the other side. They walked in on a group of bandits and bounty hunters that they knew, tying Vash up, and bragging that they were going to be rich (Vash's bounty is 60 billion double dollars, so it's not like they were lying). Vash wasn't doing much to fight back, and was failing miserably in defusing the situation.

Solaris took pity on Vash (and would later say that he looked so pathetic, that they had to step in), and lied to the bandits, saying that they had made a mistake, and that the man that they captured was not actually Vash the Stampede.

Solaris: I can tell you right now that that's not Vash the Stampede

Bandit #1: What do you mean "That's not Vash", he's got the red coat and everything!

Solaris: That's exactly the problem *points at Vash* That coat is mauve, not red.

The Bandits:

Surprisingly it works, and the bandits end up leaving.

Anyways, after that, Sola invites Vash to stay at their house for a while, and warns him that the people living in Midmay aren't very welcoming to strangers. The inn is very overpriced, and Sola is willing to let Vash room with them for free until he gets back on his feet.

They also end up saving the town later on from some bandits, but that's a story for another day.

Hope you enjoyed!!

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

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

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

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

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

So, you keep talking.

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

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

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

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

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

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

"I seriously am."

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

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

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

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

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

"Then what did you learn?"

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

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

"Try again."

"Uh…"

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

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

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

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

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

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

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

Then he snarls.

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

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

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

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

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

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

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

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

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

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

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't call me that!"

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

"Know your place."

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

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

"I didn't!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

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

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

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

"Let me help."

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

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

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

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We still need to chat. You promised."

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

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

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

Don't let me down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y-you know about the bet?"

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

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

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

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

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

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

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

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

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

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

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

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

"But…?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was that.

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

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

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

"You're sure about this?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

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

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

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

"I'll feel better at the border."

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

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

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

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

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

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

"Wouldn't be the first time."

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

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

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

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

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

"Greetings, weary travelers."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not true!"

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

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

"It's not like that."

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

"Boring."

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

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

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

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

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

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

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

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

"So, he already told you what happened."

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

"But…" You repeat warily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again.

"Where is he?"

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

"Sure."

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

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

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[snowywolf1005]

TRIGUN THE $$60,000,000,000.00 MAN

VASH X PLANT READER

Vash and y/n are at the bar. Drinking wine.

"Vash the stampede and y/n the stampede?" y/n glanced to side a bit. Vash wasn't, but he drank more quietly.

"That right, they the people with 60 billion double dollars over their head, and the girl, he always walked around with her, I heard they hit a town." "What happened?" "Heh, the whole town got zapped mountains of corpses all over..."

The other guys whistle. "These guys sound crazy, but that girl, he doesn't seem to be the type that needs a partner. Is she a hostages or something?"

"They're more than crazy! It best we don't mess with them, messing with vash or y/n, I mean, there's a reason why vash doesn't get caught, and I heard y/n just a crazy, messing with them is like dancing with dead, they leave a trail of destruction wherever they go! Women! Children! they don't care! They kill them all! They call them the humanoid typhoon"

"uhagh!?" The bartender that went outside began to scream and dashed off. vash put his face on the table, closing his eyes.

"Not this again! I thought we would at least have a break. " vash sighed.

The other guys who were talking about vash and y/n. Pulled out their guns, but that wouldn't help the fact that the entire top place of place was cut off.

Y/n looked up at the sigh up in the air. "You lucky son of a bitch" y/n said to vash, he smiled that cheeky grin.

Y/n hear gunshot sounding out, filling holes into everything that was left, the table, chairs, everything, except for the metal sign full of dent .

Vash put his drink on the table along with the sign. The metal thing, it kinda looked like a boomerangs that cut the building came back being caught by a giant and large man with a metal arm.

"Hehh, I finally found you," he snickered

Y/n glanced to the side, as vash reached for his gun.

"Vash," y/n said as he aimed his gun.

TIMESKIP~~~~~~

"Where is he? Where the hell did they go?! I don't care if you dig up a hole the whole area I want you to I don'-"

"Come on, boss, don't believe that little cowered couldn't be them, I don't see any point sticking around this place let just move o-"

The lager man grabs guy heads. "So you think you're big enough to give me order now, you little weasel, huh you saw them what they're wearing, you know that them, find them no matter what or I'll break your neck"

"Yes, boss,"

They split off. Vash raised his hands up and grabbed the old man leg, pulling himself out of the sand.

"Ahhh! I thought I was going to die and suffocate a minute there," he exclaimed. "Ah!! It vash-" y/n cut the guy off by punching him in the face, while vash searched the body.

"I warned you!" Y/n sighed, ruffling her h/c hair. He chulked. "Heh heh, well, thanks again," y/n punch him in the head. "I told you to check!"

FLASH BACK

Vash pointed his gun at them, clicking the Tigger... nothing.

"No, bullet idiot!"

The other guys grinned widely while vash gasped at the empty socket for the bullet. Then they began shooting at them. Y/n grab vash and start running.

Back to present~~~~~~~

"That was pretty close one. I'm glad you are here to help me," he said, patting y/n hair. She pouted him.

"I found them! ove-" vash threw a gun at his head, but more people started shooting at them, y/n grabbed vash and ran off. "Sometimes I hate you so much." y/n cried, running off with him.

They stopped at a rock over top, catching their breath. "I'm getting hungry," he panted, "please stop talking about food." y/n panted, vash looked behind them.

"Man, there is persistent." Y/n grinned "well you and I always, " the man ran to vash and y/n hiding places.

"HAHA!!!!!!! I'M LIKE A SITTING DUCK OVER HER!!! I'M DEFENSELESS!!!!" He yelled

The man began shooting the rock. Vash guided his arm, making a cartoon of himself. Make y/n laugh. Y/n was top of the rock, and vash was hiding.

"Now stands really still. You wouldn't want this gun to go off, would you?" Vash said, pointed his gun on the guy.

"I found him, he right over here, boss!" He yelled, make y/n want to punch him in the face.

"Would you mind lowering your voice like a good boy?"

"Forget it."

"You don't like pain, do you?"

"I'm used to it"

"Well, I feel sorry for your wife and kids. You'll make them cry"

"Ain't got no kids, and most women find me pretty offensive, so I'm single"

"Sounds like a lonely life"

"I'm telling you, you and girlfriend have to die. They sure make us all happy if you do, " he said, pointed his gun

"Sorry, we don't do requests! Get down!" The rock was cut by the blade. Cause the guy to get injured.

Later

Vash was teid up. Y/n was above the rock to vash. The men were cheering, and then two women came.

They came the tall girl hide behind the blue girl. And gave them some food. Then y/n used her hock to pick up Vash, behind the rope.

While lager man, and two girls, the beer guy. Then there was a fight, y/n and vash run away with police girl.

"Mmm, these are really good," he said, smiled.

"Huh? When do you guys get here? " merly ask

"Thanks a lot. we were getting hungry, I'll pay you back till the fight was over, and what brings you here," said y/n

"We came here for official business.". "That right there over 300 incidents about vash the stampede and y/n the stampede"

After vash and merly fighting. She gave them a ten dollar.

Timeskip

(Sorry, there is too much)

Y/n helps the girls by using her blade to set them free from the rope. While vash fights, the two men and y/n join in. Then the city was destroyed.

THE END

[screechthemighty]

Okay, going to start posting the Best Of for my Trigun/TriMax notes by volume. Note that this was my second time reading Trigun and all reactions are off-the-cuff; any hindsight-based commentary will be in italics. Also, there may be CWs I missed, but I did try to note things as I went.

Trigun Notes: Volume One

Trigun #1.1: The $$60 Billion Double Dollar Man

Injuries 603, murders 72, oof.

“This week’s satellite” like radio reports as a primary news method?

Screaming at the fact that he knew they didn’t have bullets and basically dared them to shoot him.

Trigun #1.2: Looney Tunes

Meryl: talking loud enough will give me authority, right

“More than 50 of our plants have died” due to a system bug…LOT of plants [Note: I do still wonder if they meant individual plants, because they seem a lot rarer in later adaptations. Then again, this is only the second chapter, so it might just be a continuity issue?]

Trigun #1.3: Hard Puncher

Stop backseat dueling y‘all, he knows what he’s doing

This man can do full splits after 100+ years, damn lmao

“Officially designated a localized disaster” is the FUNNIEST resolution and IDK why the ‘98 anime didn’t keep that

“Very nice to meet you” “Likewise, I think” LOL

Trigun #1.4: Popo

Mild CW for this chapter, but one character lies about having been sexually abused.

“How long do you intend to follow me?” “Until we retire, probably” “Okay, perfect *runs*"

“That was more than I deserved, maybe” Lot to unpack there, buddy!

Trigun #1.5: Assault

“They sure are good (especially that big one)” Milly supremacy

“You’re like those people from the big fall over 100 years ago. A nice person” So kindness is seen as a legit rarity here

Brilliant Dynamites Neon sure is a gang leader name

Trigun #1.6: Die Hards

Meryl + Milly coming out of the dark to beat up some dudes = SO ominous lmao

“I’m gonna need all the empty spots in my soupy brain” Oh, mood.

Vash using tough love on Kite = always hilarious

Trigun #1.7: Rem

Vash smiling sheepishly after he beats a guy in a fight…angel man…

“You’re far too easy on the whole human race” Kite citing everyone’s sins and Vash responding with “Then start all over again. [...] Your ticket to the future is always blank.” AHHHHH

“He’s got a helluva arm and the devil’s luck.” Just gunslinger things.

Trigun #1.8: Duelist

No bodies found at July, even with the city leveled; Vash doesn’t remember anything but the aftermath. [Note: At the time I thought this was the same thing as how in the '98 anime there weren't any casualties but...nope............TriMax made it worse.]

Trigun #1.9: Between the Wasteland and Sky…

Meryl: eff it, retail therapy

“Do your nerves even work?” Yes, but his baseline pain levels are a 4, so…

“You’re glorious, sister” right when he called her a brat earlier, lmao

Heart/breathing DO synchronize, because his vitals stop when hers do–wings not visible between panels, maybe representative of the Plant recognizing Vash as a sibling? [Note: could be reading that wrong, though]

“Maybe this is what it means for people to go on living. This must be what she believed, why she traded her life for everyone else’s!” So he’s still struggling with that as a concept, oof.

Trigun #1.11: Son

“People do say that strangers’ faces all cook the same” Oh, Milly

People: betray their families Milly: Chooses violence

Father makes the point that Morgan only wants the land to have it but won’t cultivate or respect it; Badwick more worried about his parents’ safety [Note: Honestly you could easily read an environmental theme into parts of Trigun with very little effort.]

“Guns are our second-to-last resort” Ma’am what is your last resort???

Trigun #1.12: River of Life

“This is not the time to come apart like this. Fight, Meryl!” My girl!!!

“What are you gonna do with a derringer and a stun gun?” “Would you care to find out?” YES, BITCH

Meryl’s “?????” at her gun = classic

Theme of trusting others even if you don’t understand or agree with their path, believing in others in a family setting–ohh, hurts a bit in light of Wolfwood and Knives!!!

[thejacksmit]

First Take: Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1 - there’s another maverick-like success coming

SYNOPSIS: Ethan Hunt and his IMF team must track down a dangerous weapon before it falls into the wrong hands.

Spoiler free as usual. This message will self destruct in 5…

His mission, should he choose to accept it, is to promote the big screen experience. Tom Cruise has done so much for the industry these last 12 months, firstly with Top Gun Maverick, and now, after 5 years in the works and an intercontinental shoot which started in the midst of Italy’s toughest Covid restrictions, Mission is back. And we’re in the Endgame - the first of a two part finale to the series (or so we’re being lead to believe), this is the biggest and arguably most impossible one they can do. To that we say this: damn, this is a true big screen movie.

At the helm, as you would expect if you’ve seen the last 2 missions, is a man who has earned the shortened name McQ. Yes, Christopher McQuarrie is back directing (and co-writing with Band of Brothers exec producer Erik Jendresen) this two parter, and he is the ideal choice, having worked with Cruise for a long time now. This is by no means a short film, coming in at 2 hours 43 minutes, and a lot of audiences have struggled with this - but there is so much plot to explore in this runtime that it does feel justified, if a smidge excessive (only by 5-10 minutes though). It is shot brilliantly, although digitally (a departure from tradition) by Fraser Taggart, with every action setpiece looking right at home on screen 3, or even an IMAX screen, plus I also have to single out Lorne Balfe - returning to soundtrack another Mission after his iconic bongo-heavy score for Fallout - who takes things even crazier by getting 555 musicians (including orchestras in London, Rome, Budapest & Vienna; the Top Secret Drum Corps in Switzerland; 20 bongo players and a choir in Venice) playing on this score. Zimmer’s prodigy, my backside - he’s the real deal now.

On to the cast, and before we tackle Tom Cruise, we have to mention Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames, and Rebecca Ferguson - we’ve seen them develop Benji, Luther and Ilsa respectively over the last few films, and knowing how Part 1 ends, a lot of narratives for them are being tied up from their respective introductions up to now. Joining the ride is Hayley Atwell, who is an inspired addition to a strong cast, Pom Klementieff, Esai Morales as villain Gabriel, the return of Henry Czerny as his character from MI1, and we also have Vanessa Kirby back as the White Widow too, someone we still don’t know too much about after her role in Fallout. And then we have the modern day miracle of science himself. 60 years old. And pulling off stunts like he is, without a double, without any injuries (this time) is still a sight to behold - say what you want about him, but when it comes to Hollywood’s time honoured traditions of showmanship, Tom Cruise is one of a rare breed of showing exactly where that $300million budget has gone: on screen, with REAL effects.

THE VERDICT

He’s done it again. He’s only gone and done it again. One year after giving cinema its first billion dollar movie since Covid, Mr Cruise and his team have casually gone and delivered another guaranteed box office success. Action turned up to 11, a well thought out plot, and everything you expect from a Mission Impossible movie is all present and correct - all it needs is the screens to be filled during a busy week of competition with ‘Barbenheimer’ as the kids are calling it.

RATING: 5/5

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, May 3, 2023

Treasury’s Yellen says US could default as soon as June 1 (AP) Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen notified Congress on Monday that the U.S. could default on its debt as early as June 1, if legislators do not raise or suspend the nation’s borrowing authority before then and avert what could potentially become a global financial crisis. In a letter to House and Senate leaders, Yellen urged congressional leaders “to protect the full faith and credit of the United States by acting as soon as possible” to address the $31.4 trillion limit on its legal borrowing authority. She added that it is impossible to predict with certainty the exact date of when the U.S. will run out of cash. Democrats and the White House are pushing for Congress to increase the federal debt limit. President Joe Biden wants the cap raised without negotiation. The House Republican majority has most recently passed a bill to secure spending cuts in exchange for a debt limit increase.

Loneliness poses risks as deadly as smoking: surgeon general (AP/Washington Post) Widespread loneliness in the U.S. poses health risks as deadly as smoking a dozen cigarettes daily, costing the health industry billions of dollars annually, the U.S. surgeon general said Tuesday in declaring the latest public health epidemic. U.S. Surgeon General Vivek H. Murthy said half of U.S. adults experience loneliness, which has consequences for mental and physical health, including a greater risk of depression, anxiety—and perhaps more surprisingly, heart disease, stroke and dementia. His advisory calls for a collective effort to “mend the social fabric of our nation,” including teaching children how to build healthy relationships; talking more to relatives, friends and co-workers; and spending less time online and on social media if it comes at the expense of in-person interactions. Research shows that Americans, who have become less engaged with worship houses, community organizations and even their own family members in recent decades, have steadily reported an increase in feelings of loneliness. The number of single households has also doubled over the last 60 years.

One-third of US nurses plan to quit profession: report (Reuters) Almost a third of the nurses in the United States are considering leaving their profession after the COVID-19 pandemic left them overwhelmed and fatigued, according to a survey. The survey of over 18,000 nurses, conducted by AMN Healthcare Services in January, showed on Monday that 30% of the participants are looking to quit their career, up 7 percentage points over 2021, when the pandemic-triggered wave of resignations began. The survey also showed that 36% of the nurses plan to continue working in the sector but may change workplaces. The survey showed there are various changes needed, with 69% of nurses seeking increased salaries and 63% of them seeking a safer working environment to reduce their stress.

Ukrainian farmer comes up with novel way to demine his fields (Reuters) A Ukrainian farmer has come up with a novel way to remove mines left in his fields after Russia’s invasion—he’s kitted out his tractor with protective panels stripped from Russian tanks and operates it by remote control. Oleksandr Kryvtsov, a general manager at his agricultural company, decided he couldn’t wait for help from overworked official deminers to clear his field. Instead, he designed a remote-controlled tractor that could withstand blasts. Using armour from damaged Russian military vehicles to protect the body of his tractor, he bought a system that would enable one of his team to operate the tractor remotely from a digger’s bucket suspended in the air nearby. “We ran over an anti-tank mine. The protection got blown out (but) the tractor is safe,” he said. “The equipment was restored and repaired.” Prime Minister Denys Shmyhal said last week about 30% of Ukrainian territory had been mined by Russians and that the government was focused on de-mining agricultural land as quickly as possible.

Ukraine Wants to Push Forward. Not So Fast, Says Its Black Soupy Mud. (NYT) The troops of Ukraine’s 43rd Separate Artillery Brigade have just about everything they need to begin the expected spring counteroffensive. They are well rested, have plenty of ammunition and are now in possession of several advanced German-made self-propelled howitzers, which have replaced their old Soviet artillery pieces. But for the moment, they are barely moving forward, stalled not by ferocious Russian attacks, but by an enemy no less tenacious: the viscous central Ukrainian mud. “Until the weather improves, there will be no counteroffensive,” said a lieutenant with the brigade named Serhii. “The vehicles will get stuck and then what will we do if the shooting starts?” Deep and black, with a consistency similar to a mixture of cookie dough and wet cement, the spring mud is one obstacle that the Ukrainian military, for all its ingenuity, finds difficult to overcome. It jams weapons and steals the boots from soldiers’ feet. Wheels and treads spin and spin, only digging military vehicles deeper into the mire. Ukraine is counting on the heat of late spring and summer to dry the ground into firm pavement—ideal for the heavy tanks and artillery pieces that will be central to the counteroffensive. But when that will happen is anyone’s guess.

China’s exit bans multiply as political control tightens under Xi (Reuters) China is increasingly barring people from leaving the country, including foreign executives, a jarring message as the authorities say the country is open for business after three years of tight COVID-19 restrictions. Scores of Chinese and foreigners have been ensnared by exit bans, according to a new report by the rights group Safeguard Defenders, while a Reuters analysis has found an apparent surge of court cases involving such bans in recent years. “Between 2018 and July of this year, no less than five new or amended (Chinese) laws provide for the use of exit bans, for a total today of 15 laws,” said Laura Harth of Safeguard Defenders. The group estimates “tens of thousands” of Chinese are banned from exit at any one time. It also cites a 2022 academic paper by Chris Carr and Jack Wroldsen that found 128 cases of foreigners being exit-banned between 1995 and 2019, including 29 Americans and 44 Canadians.

Hong Kong to slash elected seats in setback to democracy (AP) Hong Kong’s leader on Tuesday stepped up a campaign to shut down further democratic challenges by unveiling plans to eliminate most directly elected seats on local district councils, the last major political representative bodies chosen by the public. Chief Executive John Lee said the proposed overhaul will reduce the proportion of directly elected seats in the municipal-level organization to about 20%—from some 90% currently. That is even lower than the level when these bodies were first set up in the 1980s, when Hong Kong was ruled by Britain. He said the rest of the 470 seats will be filled by government appointees, rural committee chairpersons and others elected by local committees that are staffed by many pro-establishment figures.

Australia cracks down on vaping, accuses Big Tobacco of targeting youths (Washington Post) Australia announced a crackdown on e-cigarette sales in an effort to reduce the growing number of youth vapers and reclaim its role as a world leader in the fight against tobacco. The nation, which a decade ago became the first in the world to introduce plain packaging of tobacco products, now plans to eliminate recreational vaping products, including those that don’t contain nicotine. “Vaping was sold to governments and communities around the world as a therapeutic product to help long-term smokers quit,” Health Minister Mark Butler said Tuesday. “It was not sold as a recreational product—especially not one for our kids.” Research suggests that Australian children can buy nicotine-based vape products relatively easily from convenience stores and gas stations without producing proof of age.

Hunger Strike Death (Foreign Policy) The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and Gaza militants exchanged fire on Tuesday following the death of a high-profile Palestinian prisoner in Israeli custody. Khader Adnan, a political leader of the Palestinian Islamic Jihad militant group, died early Tuesday after an 87-day hunger strike to protest his arrest and indictment on charges of incitement and membership in a terrorist organization. Adnan is the first Palestinian prisoner to die from a hunger strike since 1992. Hunger strikes have become an increasingly common tactic used by Palestinian prisoners to protest their arrests and detentions, and Israeli officials in the past have released prisoners undergoing hunger strikes when their health conditions became life-threatening—including Adnan himself. Since 2004, Israeli officials had detained Adnan 12 times. Following news of Adnan’s death, militants in Gaza launched three rockets and several mortar rounds into Israeli territory. The IDF immediately responded with retaliatory tank fire. Gaza militants then fired 22 rockets into Israel. Violence between Israelis and Palestinians has surged this year. In the first three months of 2023 alone, more than 80 Palestinians died in clashes; around 14 Israelis were killed in that time period. According to Tariq Kenney-Shawa, a Middle East expert, Israel is laying the groundwork for a third intifada by continuing to expand illegal settlements throughout the West Bank. And IDF forces have stepped up raids in the West Bank.

Sudan nears ‘breaking point’ as foreigners flee (Washington Post) Despite repeated declarations of cease-fires, the fighting in Sudan won’t stop. Battles between forces loyal to two prominent generals have convulsed the country of 46 million people, paralyzing its teeming capital city Khartoum and prompting a panicked flow of refugees along an arduous journey to Sudan’s borders. Conservative estimates suggest more than 500 people have been killed, with more than 4,000 wounded. The numbers arriving at crossings in neighboring Chad and Egypt are in the tens of thousands, but Filippo Grandi, head of the U.N. refugee agency, said his operation and its partners were anticipating an influx of some 800,000 people should the conflict continue. Among the many trying to leave the country are refugees from other war zones, including Syria, Yemen and neighboring South Sudan, who had earlier found sanctuary in Sudan. Before hostilities flared last month, a third of Sudan’s 46 million people required humanitarian assistance. Now, conditions are even more grave. Across the country’s major urban centers countless residents are trapped in vulnerable, desperate conditions. Many report being without electricity, running water and food. Access to urgent health care has, in many places, become virtually impossible. In the western Darfur region, the warehouses of various aid groups and international organizations have been looted. With battles raging and Sudan sliding toward state collapse, the outlook is bleak. Martin Griffiths, the United Nations’ top humanitarian official, warned in a statement Sunday that “the humanitarian situation is reaching breaking point.”

Banana artwork eaten by Seoul museum visitor (BBC) A South Korean art student ate a banana that was part of an installation by artist Maurizio Cattelan, saying he was hungry after skipping breakfast. The artwork called “Comedian”, part of Cattelan’s exhibition “WE”, consisted of a ripe banana duct-taped to a wall at Seoul’s Leeum Musuem of Art. After eating the banana, the student, Noh Huyn-soo, taped the peel to the wall. The museum later placed a new banana at the same spot, reported local media. This is not the first time bananas used for Mr Cattelan’s work have been eaten by a visitor. In 2019, performance artist David Datuna pulled the banana from the wall after the artwork was sold for $120,000 (£91,000) at Art Basel in Miami.