#this is for me and 1 (one) friend bc she’s sick in the head

[clowns0up-felix]

EDIT BC TUMBLR MUTED THE COLORS on this so bad grrrr imagine they’re way more nice and colorful.

I did a thing .. made these over a month ago bc so many moots were making their own guys so I wanted to join in, and then I forgot to post them…

They’re like super wip bc zelda don’t even got a nickname but Link is named Map 👍 I think they’d go downfall timeline b4 or after eow ?

I actually didn’t proofread this anymore uhmmm fingers crossed it’s fine

[the-acid-pear]

The thing about the painter analog that people don't get and makes them hate it is that at heart this isn't a serious horror story. This is pure gore not only for the sake of gore but for the sake of camp. Once I was talking of to my dad laughing at the guy who had his face sanded off and he was like yeah not new they did that in Jason already �� which was later reinforced by UrbanSpook admitting this is inspired by those old 80s slasher which should tell you everything.

I'm saying this bc i saw a video pairing it with Playground and the incest game and while I don't know the second I watched a video on playground once and the difference is that that book is trying to tell a story and say something on top of the gore but the later makes it hard to care. Which is kind of the issue another "gone too far" piece of media my beloved A Serbian Film runs into where you cannot take yourself too seriously if you also want to show over the top violence or you'll lose the audience.

OF COURSE there are exceptions like Hostel, Saw and 😏 the human centipede ☺️ (cocksucker for that movie and it's more serious points, though it barely counts bc the gore is very tame save for in 2) and I couldn't exactly tell you what's the difference between what makes them work and what doesn't but still.

But I'm getting off topic I'm not here to say which media is good or not I'm here to point out the painter is not a serious story that asks you to care for the characters it's a over the top schlocky gore that asks you to go GROOOOSS or laugh at the over the top brutality it presents. Which is very standard in horror.

[vampiromano]

fuck it I'm starting singing classes

i actually wrote a lot of tags on this one. it's mostly personal reminders. but I'm posting it bc I'll forget to do any of this otherwise

i do not check my scheduling apps I'm a disaster❤️

anyway the tldr is I'm leaving this year's seasonal depression behind‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ fuck yes

i get it in summer bc I'm built different (got a few mental disorders) but yeah anyway I don't fucking care I'm DOING SHIT AGAIN somebody clap

[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 2) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Part 1, Part 2

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 6799 words

Synopsis:

After being left alone and humiliated on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom by Jungkook, you had to pick yourself up off the ground (literally). You had to get even, embarrass him like he'd done to you. Maybe you were mean to him before, but you were about to become a nightmare to humble this man. Unfortunately for you, your anger was short sighted, while Jungkook's wasn't. So you never predicted how your plans might backfire on you...

Note:

it's finally fucking here omg. ik it's super late but i'm finally decently satisfied with this. i'm looking forward to writing part 3 bc that's where the tension finally breaks and y'all aren't even ready for the revenge y/n gets lol. i hope y'all enjoy this and it lives up to part 1! i'd love to know your thoughts, if you're still pissed with jk lol, and any suggestions or requests are always welcome! chatting with you guys is my fav part <3

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Dread consumed your senses from the moment you woke up. The weekend had passed, but your chest still burned with rage at the thought of having to see Jungkook again. You hadn't even noticed the time go by over the last two days, too busy seething in your own anger. If you hated Jungkook before, you loathed him now. You forced composure as you got dressed for work. Jungkook already had the upper hand when he'd left you in the bar bathroom. He knew that you'd seen him with the girl afterwards too. You couldn't even think about whether he'd went home with her that night without being sick. After all that, the last thing you wanted was for him to think he had any kind of effect on you. You were going to go back to work with pride and confidence. At least you wanted to.

When you finally got to work, you made a beeline for your desk, pointedly not looking for Jungkook. As you settled in, one of your coworkers stopped by your desk.

"Oh hey Y/n, you feeling any better?" he asked. Your head whipped up, a gentle voice ripping you away from your resentful thoughts. You looked up at him in confusion, eyes settling on his red hair. "From Friday? You left early because you weren't feeling well?"

"Oh, right," you cleared your throat. Just then, you saw Jungkook's unmistakable figure from the corner of your eye. He was talking to someone but you could feel his eyes boring into you. Your blood began to boil but you forced yourself to stay calm. You refused to indulge him at all. "I'm feeling much better actually, thanks Jimin," you replied, shooting your coworker a sweet smile. Jimin was your acquaintance in the office; someone you could actually stand in that place. He was always kind and helpful which automatically made him better than 70% of the people there. Even though you hung out in the same circles, you never really became close friends. Probably because you were always more focused on how annoying Jungkook was whenever you were out. And you were doing it again. You made conversation to force any thoughts of him out of your mind.

"How does your hair seem more red every time I see you?" you asked with a light-hearted laugh.

"I can't be caught slacking. I put in a lot of work to keep this hair ya know," he smiled back at you.

"I still don't know how you got permission from the boss for that," you gestured to his hair. "I asked before and she shut me down so fast." Jimin laughed at the annoyed expression on your face, finding it endearing.

"I guess I'm just that charming," he shrugged, holding back a chuckle. You couldn't help but snicker. Jimin's jokes weren't that different from Jungkook's, but he wasn't obnoxious about it. Jungkook obviously believed his jokes and thought he was god's gift to the world, which made him insufferable. Jimin, on the other hand, didn't take his jokes too seriously and wasn't constantly flirting with anything that moved.

Jungkook, who was barely listening to the person talking to him, had heard your exchange with Jimin. He felt annoyance build in his chest. He knew that if he'd made the same joke, you would've been rolling your eyes and making fun of him. So why were you giggling when Jimin said it? He tried to distract himself by trying to focus on the conversation he was supposed to be having.

A quick chat with Jimin later, you turned back to your desk. You made the mistake of looking up and caught Jungkook's gaze. He looked at you, an indifferent look on his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe you'd look away in embarrassment, maybe you'd glare at him angrily. But what he didn't expect was the cold, empty look you gave him - like you were looking right through him, like he wasn't even there. His brows furrowed for a quick second, even more annoyed now. You went right back to work.

That's how the next few days went by. Every time Jungkook was remotely in your vicinity, you'd look through him without ever acknowledging him. If he even tried to walk your way, you left the room immediately. At first, Jungkook thought you were just being childish. But when you regained your confidence after a few days, he knew that you weren't through with him just yet. If he thought your insults were bad before, the newfound loathing you had for him made things ten times worse. It started with you amplifying the spite in your voice when you insulted him for his work. You refused to speak with him directly either, so all the insults were being thrown indirectly and in front of your other coworkers. With every second this continued, Jungkook felt his patience running thin. But if you were stubborn, so was he. He kept up your little game by firing back with his usual sarcastic or flirty remarks. Internally, he was burning with fury, just like you wanted him to.

All the animosity and anger eventually came to its boiling point when you crossed the line for the last time. You had walked to your desk that morning to find that your boss had paired you and Jungkook on the next project. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to work with him over the next few weeks. Part of you wondered if Jungkook had something to do with this. Thinking about him getting your boss on board with making you his partner for this big project was only adding to the fire that was spreading through your body. You already hated the way your boss melted around him, but to think that he could manipulate her to this level? After spiraling for a few minutes, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You had to remind yourself that you were jumping to conclusions and then convince yourself not to march over to Jungkook's desk and give him a piece of your mind. You tried to get back to work, but all you could think about were what reasonable excuses you could make to get out of this situation. The rest of your morning was spent racking your mind. With no luck, you decided to join your coworkers for lunch; hoping that it would give you a distraction.

Unluckily for you, Jungkook walked into the staff lunchroom soon after, only to find you and some of your other coworkers chatting around the coffee machine. Well, they were chatting and you were busy glaring him down from the second he stepped into the room. Your dark eyes peered at him over the rim of your mug as you sipped your coffee. You knew that there was no way in hell he was going to approach you to talk about this. The solution to your problem practically fell into your lap when you zoned back in to the conversation around you. If he really did get the boss to put you on the project with him, you'd make him regret that decision.

"I can't believe you got that huge project Y/n! You're so lucky," one of them said, playfully pouting.

"Talk about lucky," someone else chimed in, "You even get to work with Jungkook. But I guess that isn't so lucky for you." They laughed lightly, poking fun at you. Clearly they hadn't noticed that Jungkook was in the room, listening.

"Everyone here knows how much you hate him, even the boss. Really, what was she thinking pairing you guys up?" They continued to laugh at your misery. But you weren't annoyed. Instead, your mind lit up with the perfect way to get under Jungkook's skin in that moment. The second he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he was in for it. Jungkook prided himself on the fact that everyone liked him and thought highly of him. So what better way to get your revenge and get him to kick you off the project than to take that away from him?

"Yeah," you said skeptically, "She's never paired us up before." You continued to stare directly at Jungkook. Your coworkers looked at you with confusion and amusement.

"What changed this time?" Jimin's voice rang through the room as he walked in to join you. He'd already spotted Jungkook in the other corner of the room, and he saw the dark glint in your eyes. It was clear to him that you were up to something. So he helped you out by stirring the pot a little. Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, annoyed at seeing Jimin again and wondering where you were going with this.

"I think Jungkook really wanted this project," you answered. "And it's easy to get whatever you want when you're fucking the boss," you said, not breaking eye contact for a second. Gasps erupted across the circle as they all looked at you in disbelief. Jimin's brows raised and he scoffed, slightly taken aback that you were making that accusation. But you were more focused on Jungkook's reaction. The look on his face was beyond furious. His eyes darkened and you saw the tick in his jaw as he clenched it.

"Wait, you really think so?" one of them asked, everyone already engrossed in the gossip.

"He is a manwhore," you shrugged. Jimin stifled his laugh, not wanting to be too mean to Jungkook. You finally looked away from Jungkook and back at the group. "And he always gets the good projects. Boss doesn't favour anyone else like that." Your coworkers immediately started gossiping amongst themselves, making random connections because what you said made sense. Some of them already started getting riled up, thinking that their opportunities had been snatched by Jungkook through the boss. You obviously didn't know for sure whether Jungkook was sleeping with your boss or not. But you didn't have to. You just had to plant the idea and you knew your coworkers would jump to conclusions.

"You must be really pissed at him," Jimin whispered, leaning back against the counter. You felt Jungkook's eyes glaring daggers at you but you paid him no attention.

"I promise he had it coming," you whispered back, a devious smirk settling on your lips.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," he chuckled. You just shot him a smirk. When you glanced back at Jungkook, you barely caught him walking out the door. You didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe you wanted him to lose his shit in front of everyone, or yank you out of the room with him. So the disappointment you felt only annoyed you more. By the time you finished your lunch and made your way back to your desk, you already began hearing whispers about Jungkook and your boss. For a moment, you wondered if this was crossing the line. Definitely. But so was getting you to blow him and ditching you in that bathroom. Now you're even. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that he must be seething about the rumours.

A couple hours later, you were being called to your boss' office to discuss the new project she'd assigned you and Jungkook. You reluctantly grabbed your things and made your way there. You couldn't keep in your scoff when you saw Jungkook already there, making your boss giggle about god knows what. Your boss cleared her throat as she noticed you in the doorway, peeling herself off her desk from how far she was leaning forward towards Jungkook. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Way to be subtle.

"Y/n," she announced, "Come, sit down." You forced a smile as you sat down in the chair next to Jungkook. He didn't say anything to you, didn't even bother looking at you. Just being in his proximity was pissing you off, especially since he had nothing to say to you. Obviously he couldn't say anything in front of the boss, but you wanted to see that you'd made him just as angry as he'd made you. Maybe all this rage was clouding your mind and judgement...but who cares?

You pulled out your pen and began taking notes as she started talking about the project. Despite hating working with Jungkook, you weren't going to let that ruin your work on this project. You rolled your eyes when you saw that he wasn't taking notes at all. Of course. As your boss began wrapping up the conversation, you gathered your things again, getting up to leave.

"Listen you two," she started, her tone changing. You raised your brows and sat down, curious what she had to say. "I know you don't like working together, but this is an important project. So please, put your feelings aside and work on this together." You scoffed, forgetting to keep your composure. That's when Jungkook finally looked at you. His eyes were fiery but he looked vaguely amused that you had the courage to scoff at the boss. Your boss was also looking at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. That was all you needed to decide that maybe you weren't even with him just yet.

"Sorry, but it's not about feelings. Our work ethics don't match. I'd rather work on this alone," you said, straightening your back as you felt like you were in the spotlight. Your boss didn't look too happy.

"This isn't a one person project Y/n," she pointed out.

"I know, but it would honestly be easier to do the work myself instead of having to chase him around, begging him to get anything done." The amusement quickly disappeared from Jungkook's face.

"Excuse me?" he finally spoke. You ignored him.

"Maybe we can switch him out for someone who's actually focused on their work instead of flirting," you boldly stated. Your boss scoffed in disbelief.

"What is your problem? Do you think I want to work with you?" Jungkook spat, just about done with your shit. He shifted in his chair to face you, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to see the whites of his knuckles. Oh now he had something to say.

"You're lucky to be working on this with me. Or else this project would've gone to shit," you retorted with an equal amount of spite.

"There's a reason I'm on this project Y/n. Because I'm good at my job. So if you're letting your personal feelings affect your professionalism, you need to get a grip." His words stung but you refused to accept that there was some truth to them. He was giving you a taste of your own medicine; humiliating you in front of your boss like you were doing to him. All your self control and common sense went out the window when you felt that embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's why you're on this project," you said sarcastically, referring to the rumour you'd started a few short hours ago. You could practically see his nostrils flare as he willed himself to keep his mouth shut.

"You're out of line Y/n," your boss jumped in. She hadn't heard the rumours yet, but she could clearly see that Jungkook didn't like the implications of what you had said. "I don't care whether you two like each other or not. You will put aside...whatever this is...and work together on this, and that's final," she said firmly. Irritation coursed through you, seeing her take Jungkook's side yet again.

"Yes ma'am," you barely grit through your teeth. You'd be darned if you got fired over Jungkook. You quickly stood up and left, rushing to the file room for a moment to cool down. It was the only place you could get some silence - no one ever really stepped into the filing room because most of your work was stored digitally anyways. You pressed your back to one of the metal cabinets, sliding down to crouch as the door slowly shut. You took some deep breaths to calm down. If you went back out there now, you would rip someone's head off. How did Jungkook have the audacity to continue being a dick to you? You knew you'd without a doubt crossed the line back there, but despite that, you didn't feel even with him yet. After a few moments of dragging your mind away from these thoughts, you took one last deep breath and stood back up. You straightened your skirt and fixed your hair. Since you were already there, you decided to grab some files you needed for the project before going back out there. You turned around, pulling a drawer open and digging through the files before you found them. Just as you pulled them out, you heard the door open behind you. You already knew who it was, getting a waft of his cologne. Your heart already began beating faster, not knowing what to anticipate. There was a beat of silence as the door slowly shut.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jungkook grit through his teeth, trying to keep his voice down. You didn't bother turning around or replying to him. Any semblance of self control he had left snapped when you didn't even acknowledge him. With three quick strides, he was right behind you, pressing you face flat against the cabinets. He yanked one of your hands behind your back, making you drop your files. You yelped as his entire body caged you in, slight panic rising in your chest.

"You don't get to ignore me now," he snapped, voice low. "You haven't shut the fuck up for the last few days, don't start now." He yanked your arm down further so he could hold your wrist with one hand. You groaned at the ache, but decided against complaining about it. His anger was palpable; you could practically feel it seeping through your skin, igniting your own fury. In the shock of the moment, you'd almost forgotten that Jungkook wasn't the only one with reason to be upset. This was all a consequence of his insanely disrespectful behaviour, and he had the nerve to be mad at you now?

"What is it? What's got you so fucking riled up, hmm?" He sounded bewildered, gritting the words through his teeth. The more he pressed against you, the harder it got to ignore the heat building in you. An ugly satisfaction was creeping through you seeing the way you'd managed to get under his skin. This was what you wanted; to see that you'd affected him.

"Didn't get enough cock last time? That it?" he growled, bending down next to your ear. His words pierced right through you, as if he knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Fuck you," you spat before you could compose yourself. You strained in his hold, your arm coming up to elbow him in the ribs. To your dismay, Jungkook predicted your move and held you tighter, keeping you still.

"I thought it'd be enough to keep you satiated for at least a week. But you're just a cock hungry whore hm? " he taunted, his lips grazing your ear and sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "I should've fucked your throat a little harder. Wouldn't be able to lie about me to everyone - including our boss - then, would you?" Despite the bitterness in his voice, your body reacted to his words. Your mind was scolding itself for the rush of arousal that coursed through you. How was he still affecting you like this?

You shook your head clear. No. He wasn't going to have his way this time.

"Lie? I haven't lied about anything," you replied with a snarky tone. Jungkook chuckled in disbelief. He quickly flipped you around so you were forced to face him. You didn't hesitate to meet his ravenous gaze with your own.

"No? So you really think I'm sleeping with the boss?" he asked, tone getting serious. You shrugged nonchalantly, annoying him more.

"You'll fuck anything that moves," you jabbed. "At least fucking the boss has some real benefits unlike the girl from the bar. Maybe she'd even give you a raise if you could satisfy her properly." Jungkook couldn't hide the disgust that flared across his features; insulted that you thought so little of him. The urge to shut you up was growing stronger by the second, burning through his insides. You were going to drive him insane.

"Watch yourself," he warned, the words coming out dark and gravelly. But the surge of excitement that you felt, knowing that you had managed to provoke him, was addicting. You wanted more.

"If it was anyone else, I'd be all for it. Get that bag, you know?" you said with indifference. "But you? I thought the boss had better taste. Her bar must be in hell." That was enough for Jungkook. Before you even had a second to process what was happening, one of his hands was wrapped around your neck. His fingers dug into the flesh, limiting your breath in the most delicious way.

"You didn't seem to think so when you were begging me to touch you - to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom," he growled, stepping closer, face inches from yours.

"Yeah, obviously I expected too much," you sneered. "You don't know how to please anyone but yourself. Boss must be a real masochist to keep going back to you. Poor thing," you tutted, knowing you'd practically nailed the head in your own coffin before you'd even finished your thought. Jungkook's face contorted in a snarl as his grip tightened around your throat. You gasped, the dark swirl in your core intensifying.

"Maybe I should talk to her," you patronized, chasing the high from pissing him off. "I can recommend someone who can actually make her feel good - get her off. A man. Not a selfish boy," you emphasized. "Think she'll like me better than you after that?" With that, his other hand was pressed firmly against your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You grunted at the sheer pressure of his hold, now struggling to breathe.

"You just don't shut up, do you?" he spat. The look in his eyes was nearly feral; like he was going to eat you alive. His ego took a hit to your words, even though he knew you didn't actually believe everything you'd said. Still, you seemed to be stuck on his 'selfishness'. It infuriated him that you didn't understand why he wasn't giving you what you wanted, but he'd had enough of you running your mouth. If you'd forgotten how easily he made you melt under his touch, he'd just have to remind you. And make sure you never forgot again.

With each passing second of silent seething, you thought he might actually choke you out. But then he let go of you. You gasped for air, coughing as you caught your breath. Just as you were about to shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster, Jungkook sank to his knees. The snarky remark on your tongue vanished as you watched him kneel in front of you, looking up at you with a carnivorous gaze. Lust consumed your senses as he wordlessly loosened his tie, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You'd think that seeing him on his knees would make you feel more powerful in the situation. But the hunger in his eyes made it clear that he was still very much in control.

Simply put: Jungkook, in a suit and on his knees, was enough to wipe away your last bit of common sense.

"This is what you want, right?" he asked, his hands slipping under your skirt. You felt paralyzed, your breath caught in your throat. His hands moved up your thighs, slowly dragging your skirt up with them. "You wanna cum, yeah?" You were genuinely struggling to form any thoughts, your senses heightened.

"Want me to make you cum?" A strangled groan bubbled in your throat at his tone. He'd barely done a thing and your breathing was already heavy. So much for your resolve. As your skirt bunched above your hips, you suddenly became hyper aware of your situation. You were still at work, in a file room, door unlocked.

"Someone could walk in," you gasped, trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this. He ignored you, trailing his fingers down your hips and legs instead. "We've already been gone for a while. What if someone comes looking?" You desperately tried to focus your wandering mind.

"I guess I should hurry then," he sneered, shooting you a glare. Then his fingers were sliding between your legs, making you close your eyes and sigh as they eased the ache in your clit. By that point you were too far gone to even feel embarrassed about having soaked through your panties. Jungkook hissed as your slick coated his digits. "I put the bar in hell, but still, you get so wet for me," he snapped, adding more pressure. For the first time all day, you had nothing to quip back with. Your sweet silence was like music to his ears. Mindful of the time, Jungkook hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down your legs. You knew there was no going back as you stepped out of them. Your knees felt weak as you watched him hastily shove them in his pocket. But before you could ask what he was planning on doing with them, he hooked a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and to the side. With your legs spread and your pussy staring him in the face, Jungkook was struggling to control himself. He wanted to tease you - make you beg and plead - but he didn't. Fuck. He couldn't; not when he felt like he'd lose his sanity if he didn't taste you right away.

Without wasting another second, his lips were pressed to you, the velvety heat of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue licked at your wetness. Your mouth was left agape as your hands buried into his hair, using the locks to keep yourself tethered. Jungkook groaned into your heat; he felt like he was getting drunk off of you. His fingers dug into your thighs as he hungrily lapped at your pussy. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a drawn out moan as his lips wrapped around your clit, creating the perfect amount of suction. You would've thought he was starved seeing the vigor with which he ate you out. He didn't stop, didn't pull away for a single breath - too consumed with the taste of you on his tongue. You were embarrassingly close already, struggling to contain your moans and whimpers. You bit your lip, trying to hold them in, but another particular harsh lick to your clit had you groaning Jungkook's name. Seeing you unravel so quickly only fueled Jungkook's appetite; the sound of his name on your lips going straight to his aching cock. All it took was him groaning into your cunt after that to send you over the edge. Your fingers yanked at his hair, desperately pulling him closer as you felt the white heat build up.

"Jungkook, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed, voice whiny as you tried to keep quiet. "Gonna cum," you moaned right as you crashed over the edge. Jungkook felt you tense in his hold as you came on his tongue. He diligently lapped at your slit, sure to pay attention to your clit as well to help you ride out your orgasm. He slowed down as you came down from your high. Naturally, your legs tried to close together once his tongue became overstimulating. But Jungkook's hold was firm, keeping your legs apart. You tried to catch your breath, mind reeling from the mix of pleasure and pain flooding your senses.

"Jungkook... wait," is all you managed to get out. He ignored you again, picking up his pace despite your cringing.

"So fucking good," he growled against you, like he hated admitting it to himself. It felt weird hearing him compliment you after all the bickering and degrading earlier. Yet you couldn't deny that it boosted your ego seeing him so fucked out and angry. He pushed you further up against the cabinets, giving himself better access to you and delving his tongue into your dripping hole. And just like that, the sensitivity was replaced with a delicious pleasure once again.

"Please, wait..." you breathlessly pleaded. In contrast to the last orgasm, he was building this one up slowly. Unfortunately for you, that meant it felt twice as intense and you were getting increasingly worried about being caught.

"Thought you wanted to cum, sweetheart," he mocked. "That's why you're being such a bitch, right? Mad that I didn't make you cum last time?" he grit through his teeth. You cursed him under your breath, but were more focused on the feeling of his soft lips against. You finally looked down at him properly, ready to glare at him. But the second you saw his dark eyes staring up at you, the rest of his face buried between your legs, you lost your train of thought entirely. Then you saw his hand sprawled across your lower stomach while his thumb rubbed circles into your clit. Fuck, why was he so hot?

"What if we get caught?" you half-heartedly complained, trying to muffle your whimpers.

"They'll see what a fucking slut you are for me then," he grunted. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he picked up his pace, continuing to plunge his tongue in and out of you. "Keep your hands down," he demanded, pressing harder on your clit. "You're gonna keep moaning like that for me," he hissed, delving right back into the heat of your cunt. In that moment, all you heard was his demanding tone and your hands instinctively went back to his hair without a second thought. You whined, trying to keep your voice down as he slowly built up your pleasure.

"Good," he praised, his words muffled as he continued to eat you out. "I should make you scream, so that everyone knows that you, Y/n, are cumming on my tongue." His words were bitter but they turned you on more. You clearly had some problems. It didn't take very long after that to feel that white heat building up again. Jungkook could tell you were almost there, so he sped up the pace of his fingers and plunged his tongue deeper into you. "Including our boss," he rasped. And then you were cumming again; gripping tightly onto his hair and groaning his name once more.

"There you go," he coaxed, letting you ride his face. You hadn't realized, but at some point, your hips had started moving on their own. Seeing you with your eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, as you unraveled under his touch, only fueled Jungkook's hunger. When you started coming down, he finally pulled away; giving you a second of reprieve. That was until you looked down to see his blown out, dark eyes staring at you. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices and he looked ravenous. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. Your chest heaved; partly because you were still catching your breath, and partly because of how fucking hot Jungkook looked in the moment. His hands went right back to your thighs, pulling them apart once more.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" you asked, eyes going wide. "I can't cum again, please," you nearly cried. His fingers dug into your thighs as he watched you plead.

"You can and you will," he said firmly. "You know why?" He slid his fingers between your folds, gathering all the wetness that had pooled. "Because you fucking love my touch," he growled. Your already weak knees felt even weaker.

"You're so desperate for it; for my mouth, my fingers, my cock." Your legs threatened to buckle under you if it weren't for Jungkook's hand holding you up. "So desperate that you're being such a fucking brat," he spat. "Trying to piss me off. So, what? So that I'd finally touch you again?" he mocked. Your senses were overwhelmed and his words settled in a pit in your stomach. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes; whether it was because of his harsh words or the overstimulation of his fingers, you weren't sure. Just as you were about to retort, Jungkook slipped a slender finger into you which slid in smoothly with how wet you were. He let out a throaty groan, quickly slipping another finger into you and curling them upwards. You nearly doubled over as he pressed right into your g-spot.

"See how tuned your body is to me? I've barely done a thing and you're already a mess," he taunted. Seeing how flimsy your legs had gotten, he quickly threw the leg he was holding over his shoulder, getting even closer to you. His name left your lips in a whine, your body torn between pleasure and worry. "Well here, I'm giving you what you want." He punctuated his words by curling his fingers again, making you moan. "You wanna cum? I'll make you cum...over and over again, so you never forget how good I make you feel." And with that, he finally pulled his fingers out before slamming them back into you, setting a hard pace.

Your mind was left blank, so consumed with pleasure that you couldn't even think about staying quiet. Whimpers and moans shamelessly tumbled out of you as he filled you up so delightfully. Jungkook wasn't unaffected either. Feeling how warm and wet you were was driving him up the wall, numbing his own thoughts.

"So wet for me, fuck. My cock would slide right into you with how drenched you are," he thought out loud. He felt you tighten around his fingers, making him snarl and pick up his pace. "Filthy fucking cockslut. I can't wait to feel you tighten around me like that when I'm fucking all this brattiness out of you," he growled, voice low. You could only moan in response.

"Jungkook, s-slow down, please," you begged, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Before you knew it, his free hand came down on your pussy, leaving a delicious sting spreading through you. A half yelp-half moan sound came out of you, making Jungkook scoff.

"You're gonna take what I give you, like a good little slut," he grunted. "What do you have to say now Y/n?" he asked, annoyance lacing his voice. "You're so convinced I'm fucking every woman and leaving them unsatisfied. Do you feel satisfied yet?" With his fingers pumping you, grazing your g-spot with every thrust, it was nearly impossible for you to form a coherent thought. When you didn't answer, he gave your pussy another smack, making you hiss.

"Answer me," he demanded, "How do you feel now Y/n?"

"F-feel good," is all you could come up with. Jungkook chuckled at your fucked out state.

"Who's making you feel good sweetheart?"

"You," you moaned, feeling yourself reach your climax again. "Oh my god. Jungkook, please...don't stop. Feels so good, I'm gonna-"

Jungkook's ego inflated as you finally found your words again, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. Hearing you beg for him almost made up for all the shit you'd put him through that day. Almost. You were creaming on his fingers before you could even finish your sentence, moaning his name way louder than you should.

"Now you're finally being a good girl," he praised, continuing to pump his fingers through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're getting so tight. Keep cumming on my fingers like that, yeah?" he groaned, imagining how good you would feel on his cock. Your orgasm was so powerful, you were cumming for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook didn't mind; continuing to work you through it. When it was finally over, your legs gave out. Jungkook quickly caught you as you collapsed, and he placed you down on his discarded jacket on the floor. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart rate to go back to normal. When you opened your eyes after a few moments, Jungkook was still kneeling in front of you. His gaze was trained on your still exposed cunt and he had slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, tasting you all over again. You worried for second that he still wasn't done with you. He slowly dragged his glazed over eyes to meet your. You gulped at the voracious look on his face, your legs instinctively closing.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was battling with his own insatiable thoughts. He knew he couldn't forget about this, about you, about your pussy after this. As infuriating and insufferable you were, he couldn't deny how good you tasted and felt. And he sure as hell couldn't deny how hard you'd gotten him either. With his hormones surging through him, all he could think about was being inside you, in any way. He saw the look on your face and nearly scoffed. You fucked up his reputation and humiliated him all because you wanted to cum, and now you couldn't take it. He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts away so he could be rational.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you cum again," he said. You scoffed, easing up a little with his reassurance. "You got what you wanted, right? Now maybe you'll keep your mouth shut." The high of your pleasure was wearing off and the weight of his words were hitting you. Did he really just think you were desperate for him? Had he forgotten how he was shamelessly flirting with that other girl right after leaving you in that bathroom? Reality finally caught up with you, and you realized how vulnerable you'd made yourself to him. If someone came in right now, the only person who'd be humiliated was you. Clearly, all of this was just a game to him; a way to shut you up. Jungkook was toying with you and you were letting him. A similar shame and hurt creeped across your skin as the night he'd left you in the bar bathroom. Part of you had started to feel bad about what you'd done earlier, but if Jungkook really was just using you, then you were still nowhere near even.

Without saying a word, you stood up, pulling your skirt back down. In the process, you remembered that he'd taken your underwear. But you'd have to talk to him to ask for them back, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You'd just have to clean up later and make it through the day without them. You straightened your clothes, trying to make them look as less wrinkly as possible, avoiding Jungkook's piercing gaze. When you finally felt like you looked presentable, that's when you looked at him. This time it was him that was left a mess. His hair was ruined by all the grabbing and pulling you'd done, and his collar was soaked with your juices. You looked at his jacket that you were not standing on, and sure enough, you'd left a wet spot and now heel marks on it too. It made you feel a little better, knowing that this time he'd have to fix himself up instead of you. You picked up his jacket with the toe of your shoe before kicking it over to him. You shot him a cold look.

"You're an asshole," you stated before walking out the door. Jungkook was left on the floor, even more frustrated. He'd felt more gratified after putting you in your place, but then what was that? You'd obviously enjoyed yourself, so what was the problem now? He groaned loudly. Despite his anger, the bulge in his pants was now aching. Everything about you was infuriating to him, so how did you have this much of an affect on him? His mind wandered back to how you felt in his hands and on his tongue. He growled as he palmed his crotch, slowly taking out his hard cock. He stroked himself harshly with the frustration you'd left him with. He quickly pulled out your panties from his pocket, unable to stop himself. His head rolled back and your name spilled past his lips along with low groans as he brought up the thin fabric to his face.

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Tag List: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016

[c0kitty]

NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side. 

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women. 

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.” 

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,” 

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?” 

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'. 

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way. 

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—” 

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours.  “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest. 

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–” 

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.” 

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”  

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

[everyonewooeverywhere]

chapter 3 : old pals, new beginnings

part 1 | part 2 | masterlist

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: pg-13 (18+ for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 5.6k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll)

notes: thank you so so much to @yunho-onlyhands & @skzdust for beta reading this for me 🤧 it means so much, and it very much helped me iron out this draft 💗

also thank you so so much for all the love on this series so far! i truly love writing for this couple so much. they make me so happy 😞

Getting up out of bed for the next several days took nearly all of your energy. And unfortunately, “getting cheated on” is not an acceptable reason to get out of work, so you were forced to call in sick. Using up the last of your sick days for the year. Everything was so draining, and somehow every corner of that godforsaken apartment was just a painful reminder of the years you seemed to have wasted.

Your head swelled and pounded from the lack of sleep, and the endless hours of tossing and turning left you unbearably irritable. Even trying to make yourself meals felt like an impossible task.

You basked in the irony that your apartment was messier than ever. You were trying to pick away at Yeonjun’s endless amount of stuff. Throwing whatever you could find in boxes and letting it pile up in the kitchen. But somehow you were constantly finding shit that you had to physically restrain yourself from tossing straight into the garbage.

And you probably would have been living in your mess for days on end if Rosie hadn’t forced herself into your apartment nearly every day. Her cheerful energy never wavering when she burst through your front door. Usually bringing snacks and treats with her. 

Today was no different. This time, though, when she dragged you out of bed, she started laying out outfits. A variety of short, fringe skirts and topslined up haphazardly across your unmade bed, complimented by a pair of white cowboy boots tossed onto the floor.

“What is all this?” you asked, brows furrowing while you failed to suppress a yawn.

She grinned at you, “We’re going to a party.”

“Oh, Ro. I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you grimaced at the idea of being surrounded by sweaty strangers in a house you’d never seen, Rosie’s usual party scene.

“Oh, babe…” She mimicked your tone, “You have no choice.”

You pouted at her, and she mirrored that, too. Before breaking into a wide grin, “C’mon! I know you’ll have fun! It’s not a house party. It’s a barn bash that Mingi invited me to. He said his friend’s family hosts one every year, and he really loves it. And I don’t know what I’d do without my favorite girl there.” 

You eyed her suspiciously, “‘His friend…”

She bit her lip in a failed attempt to hide her smile. Her clearly freshly manicured hand swatted at your arm, “Come on! You haven’t seen him in weeks! And you don’t even have to talk to him. I really just want to have you there,” she laid her head on your shoulder, “Between you and me, though, Mingi says he still talks about you a lot.”

You scoffed, but Rosie could tell clear as day how flattered you were by that statement. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, “Can we at least get ice cream after?” 

Her face lit up, “Yes! So you’ll come?”

You nodded and smiled softly at her, “Yes, Ro. I’ll come.”

“Oh yay!” She wrapped you in a hug. When she pulled back, her grin was full of scheming. “Okay…let’s play dress up.”

After several hours of letting her dress you up and do your make up and hair, Mingi pulled up outside your apartment. Loud music spilling out the windows of his shiny black sports car. 

Rosie grabbed your arm when she saw him leaning against the hood of the car, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. “Oh girl I got so lucky, didn’t I?” She whispers to you.

You rested a hand over hers, “Well I’d say he got pretty lucky, too.”

She giggled and smiled up at you. Letting her head lean on your shoulder as you both made your way down the sidewalk to his car.

He grinned and waved as he saw you both approaching, pushing himself off the car. “Wow, you both look great.” He slid his sunglasses onto his head, and you watched as Rosie ogled up and down at him. You wouldn’t lie, he looked really good. In a tight black t-shirt that didn’t quite reach the waistband of his black leather pants, leaving a sliver of his midriff exposed. The black, studded boots he wore were the perfect way to stay on theme but put his own spin on it. Suddenly, it made a lot more sense why your friend had opted for a black leather miniskirt for a supposed “barn bash.”

You reached your hand out to him, figuring this might be your only time tonight to finally introduce yourself to him, “Thank you, Mingi.” You gave him a friendly smile, “I’m Y/n, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever officially introduced ourselves.”

He chuckled and shook your hand, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you glanced down at your friend, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Rosie just giggled and leaned further into your side. And your heart about melted at the way Mingi looked at her so fondly. Hearts practically forming in his eyes.

He opened the door to the backseat and half bowed, presenting the open car door to you, “Ladies.” 

You laughed and slipped into his car, clearly freshly cleaned. Rosie slid in after you, taking Mingi’s hand as he helped her into the car and kissing him on the cheek before he closed the door. She was glowing, and you couldn’t be more happy for her.

As you pulled up to the barn, your stomach fluttered with nerves. The car pulled to a stop before Mingi helped you both out and led you to the door, his hand resting on Rosie’s back.

The atmosphere is much calmer than you were expecting. It was still a party, but the ambiance of the small barn was really nice. There was no DJ, just a playlist playing over the various speakers spread around the building. A small but adequate bar was set up not too far from the door, and you saw many people serving themselves out of the coolers.  The lights were low, but it was still relatively easy to see all the way across the small space. And there were hardly more than fifty people here, so you had a lot of room to breathe. 

Maybe you were glad that Rosie had dragged you out of the house for this. 

“Alright ladies,” Mingi spoke from beside you, his hand on your friend’s lower back, “Everyone is over there.” He pointed to one of the many high-top tables that were spread around the dance floor.

And just like you suspected, Yunho stood beside it alongside a couple men you failed to recognize. He wore the normal cowboy get-up, but it seemed nicer today. Even though he wore the same beige hat you’d seen him in before, he was more dressed up. His jeans were darker, and he wore a white button-up that had clearly been ironed before he put it on. And maybe it was just the low light of the barn or maybe it was your newfound singleness, but something about the way he leaned against that table and the way his head tilted back when he laughed made your stomach flip.

You followed Mingi and Rosie to the table, trailing behind the two of them and trying to catch your breath and calm your growing nerves. Yunho saw Mingi first, his height and platinum hair a dead giveaway, and broke into a huge smile. He pulled his friend in for a hug, with two mildly aggressive pats to the back. And he even pulled Rosie in for a small side hug. 

“You guys made it!” He greeted with a huge grin. When he let go of Rosie, he finally saw you over Mingi’s shoulder. For a brief second he looked a little shocked, though you could tell he was trying to hide it. He broke into yet another smile but a softer one, one that was more obvious in his eyes than his lips. “Hey.”

You waved shyly at him, “Hi.”

Rosie and Mingi stepped aside to chat with the others, leaving the two of you alone with each other. “How’ve you been?”

You shrugged and failed to reel back a clearly unsavory sigh, “It’s been alright.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You sure?”

The tips of your fingers fiddled with the fringe on your skirt, and you chuckled dryly, “It’s been kinda horrible actually. I haven’t had to deal with a breakup since I was sixteen, so I guess I’m just out of practice.”

He laughed at that, and you were glad, feeling better that you hadn’t brought down the mood. “Try not to beat yourself up about it, alright? Break ups suck, but a lot of the time, it is for the better. And if you ever need anythin’, car related or otherwise, call me. I know you’ve got Rosie to help you out, but if you ever need help when she’s…” he glanced over at your friend who was practically hanging off of Mingi’s arm, “preoccupied, just let me know.”

You looked up at him, grateful for his willingness, “Thank you, Yunho.”

He tipped his hat, in a way that seemed half a joking nod to his cowboy persona and half completely sincere and genuine, “Of course, Doll. Anytime.” He glanced over your shoulder, “Can I introduce you to my friends? Well, most of ’em, anyways. Looks like we’ve got some slowpokes who haven’t shown up yet.”

“Please, I’d love that.” 

He holds out his arm for you, and you grasp it gently, letting him tuck your hand into the crease of his elbow. And he guides you back to the table where the rest of the group has been talking. 

They all turned to the two of you once they noticed your approach. Waiting curiously while Yunho introduced the girl who'd arrived with Mingi’s date, “Guys, this is y/n.”

You smile, giving them all a small wave, catching the eye of one of the men who was practically beaming at you.

“Well I was wondering when we’d finally get to meet her,” the blonde man said, leaning over the table and shaking your hand when you reached for him, “Nice to meet you. I’m Hongjoong.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” 

You went around the whole table introducing yourself. You found out that Hongjoong had been in the year ahead of Yunho and Mingi in high school and had left town for fashion school in New York after he’d graduated. He’d moved back a couple of years ago and opened his own tailoring shop downtown. Bringing his boyfriend, Seonghwa, back with him from school with him. Both of them moving in together in the small studio above Hongjoong’s shop. Seonghwa had pulled you in for a hug immediately upon meeting you, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep warmth at how easily accepted you were.

After meeting Seonghwa and Hongjoong, you were introduced to San. And found out that you and San actually went to the same university. Never once did you cross paths, but it was nice to have the connection nonetheless. He was newer to the group apparently. Only meeting Mingi at a race a little under a year ago. He wasn’t a mechanic but he “knew his way around the cab better than anyone.” Or at least that’s what Mingi had claimed.

And then there was Yunho’s younger cousin, Jongho. Apparently, this whole barn bash tradition had been one started by his parents, and, though he wasn’t super keen on running it, he made sure that the party still happened annually. 

When Yunho went to grab you a beer, Jongho nudged your side with his elbow. Smirking at the way you shamelessly eyed his cousin at the bar.

“He’s single, you know?” standing next to you and admiring his cousin alongside you. Watching as he mingled with some other friends beer the cooler.

You laughed, “So I’ve heard. That’s not really any of my business, is it, though?”

Jongho shrugged, “I would say by the way you won’t stop staring at him, it might be all of your business.”

This kid. “I guess it’s kind of on him to make a move then, isn’t it?”

“He won’t.” He took a sip of his beer. Setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” you glanced over at him, brows pinched in confusion. “What do you mean ‘he won’t?’”

He met your eyes, “You just got out of a relationship, right?” You nodded hesitantly and a bit embarrassed that that was knowledge he had. “Then he’s not gonna push anything. It took a lot of convincing from us,” he gestured to the group, “to even get him to invite you tonight, and he wouldn’t even do that directly. Unless you push for it, Yunho isn’t gonna make a move. He wants to give you the time you need to heal. So the ball is definitely in your court for this one.”

You pondered his words. Turning them over in your head. Part of you nervous at the prospect of being in charge, being the driving force. But another part of you feeling like he just couldn’t get anymore perfect. Already, he had been nothing but respectful and gentle toward you. Helping you where you needed it. But something about the way he treated you…it just made you feel so special.

Your heart tightened at the feeling. Special wasn’t a new feeling. A much younger you had felt that beautifully deceptive feeling before. Because it doesn’t take much to feel special, but it's an easy way to trick the heart.

“Want me to open it for ya?” Yunho gestured to the beer in his hand that he had so graciously grabbed for you.

You nodded, “That would be wonderful.”

“Not a problem, Doll.”

You watched as he positioned the rim of the bottle against the edge of the table. Shamelessly admiring his arms as he did it. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but at some point, he’d rolled his sleeves up. Revealing his toned forearms. From which you could see his many veins lining his arm. When he brought his hand down on top of the bottle you jumped in surprise, watching the cap pop up and fall to the ground.

Yunho laughed at your jumpiness, reaching the bottle out to you. His fingers brushing over yours when you took it from him.

“Thank you,” you gave him a shy smile.

He opened his mouth to playfully remark over the way you ogled at him, but he was cut off by a voice behind you.

“Y/n!?” shouted a male voice full of obvious surprise. Your head whipped around, recognizing that  voice instantly.

You stared at him wide-eyed in shock. Though his hair was longer and his voice deeper, you’d recognize Jung Wooyoung anywhere. And he hardly gave you a second to breathe before his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, practically suffocating you. 

He rocked you side to side dramatically when you finally hugged him back, your arms embracing his back. You were still trying to comprehend seeing his face after so long, when he pulled back, hands still resting on your shoulders, “How have you been?”  His enthusiasm not once wavering. He playfully slapped your shoulder, “Where have you been?”

Still a bit dazed, you just blinked at him, before pulling him back in and hugging him tighter than before. His giggle vibrated through your chest. A sound you thought you’d honestly never hear again. And though you couldn’t see his face, you could perfectly visualize the way his lips pulled back into that smile that had encouraged you so strongly all those years ago.

Finally, after several long moments, you let each other go. His smile still burning as he repeated his question, “How’ve you been?”

You shrugged, trying not to let the unfortunate question tamper your mood, “Fine. Kind of going through a breakup right now, so it’s been a little rough if I’m honest.” You felt your heart fill with a familiar warmth, though. And you smiled at the memories of your long walks together, the ones where you told each other everything.

“Oh girl, a bad one?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your beer, “He cheated.”

“Shit, seriously!?” he made a face of disgust, “Give me his name. I’ll kick his ass. I swear.”

You sat there for a second silently staring at him. A bit embarrassed to admit the truth he had yet to realize.

Expectantly, he kept his gaze locked onto yours, waiting patiently for your response. Until you saw it click in his eyes, and his face turned to a look of utter disgust. “Please tell me you two did not just break up.” You avoided his eyes. His judgement, “Was there at least a break in there?”

You shook your head, “No…”

“Damn, girl. How’d you put up with that for that long?” Sympathy washed over his face.

Shrugging you offered the only thing you could think of as a reasonable answer, “It was comfortable? I don’t really know.” You leaned against the table, “He’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had, so I guess I just…didn’t really know when I was supposed to end it.”

“Maybe that’s just the thing with him.”

You hummed.

He continued, “He makes you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. With him. And your life revolves around him for so long that it just becomes the new normal, and you struggle to even remember what your life was like before you met him. Was it better? Was it worse? I guess it’s hard to tell when he’s worn you down so much that you can’t even think that hard.”

As much as it was so nice to have someone to understand your pain, your heart hurt for Wooyoung, too. You placed a comforting hand on his back. 

He smiled gently at you, “Well, I’m glad you're at least out of it now.”

“I’m glad you are, too.”

Things between him and Yeonjun had ended disastrously. About as bad as things could go. Wooyoung leaving the band had been kind of inevitable from the beginning. With all logic, it was just a fun thing for him to do throughout his university years. He had never planned for it to be a lifelong thing, let alone the career path that Yeonjun seemed to think it was. But when Wooyoung had told Yeonjun that he was leaving the group one month before graduation, it was chaos. A constant storm of accusations. Yeonjun berating his former friend for being a poser and a traitor. And Wooyoung scoffing at the man's delusions. 

You remember the countless hours you spent in Yeonjun’s room. In his bed consoling him. Telling him that it was going to be okay. And reassuring him that he didn’t need his help to keep the band together. Though you were secretly hoping to see Wooyoung move on to better things.

Peering up at him, you asked softly, “You don’t hate me, do you?”

He laughed through his nose, tucking you into his side and pressing his cheek into your forehead, “I could never. Actually sometimes I wonder why I never reached back out to you. Maybe I had figured you’d moved on.”

“I missed you, Youngie.” 

You felt him let out a content breath, “I missed you, too.” 

From behind you, you felt a pair of eyes on you, practically burning into your skull. You glanced over to see his painfully familiar face watching the two of you carefully. You tried to smile and wave at him, but he continued to stare, seemingly uninterested, before returning to his conversation with San.

“Oh, yeah…” Wooyoung muttered, “Yeosang’s here, too.”

“Mhm,” you sighed, a bit defeated, “And he still hates me.”

He nudged your hip with his, “Hey, he doesn’t hate you. You two just…probably have some things you need to work out.”

You glared at him, “That might be oversimplifying it.”

“Seriously, I think you just need to talk to him. At least for closure. Because I know the way you two left things left room for none of that.”

Of course, he was right. The last time you spoke to Yeosang, it was a massive fight. One that had left many wounds, the biggest one being the loss of your closest friend. Someone who had always made you feel complete.

“I’ll try.” It felt like an empty promise. The thought of going over there and talking to him made you honestly sick to your stomach. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung slid your beer back into your hand, “Don’t let it bum out your night, okay?” He looked back at the group and then smirking back at you, “So…Yunho?”

You took a sip to try and mask your smile, “What about him?”

“Don’t play dumb. What’s going on there? How’d you two even meet?”

You laughed, “Actually, I think you would really like this story.”

After chatting with Wooyoung for what felt like hours, you found yourself wandering back to Yunho. You could tell he was a bit tipsy from the light flush across his face. 

“Small world, huh?” He gestured toward your friend.

“Yeah I guess it is,” smiling fondly at him.

He lifts his hat off to readjust and ruffle his hair before placing it neatly back on his head. God you needed to get over your feelings about that hat. But you couldn’t stop looking at him. Something about the alcohol that was barely in your system and the way the smallest of his actions drove you up the wall had you feeling insane. 

But maybe it also had you feeling more confident. Perhaps a bit too confident.

“Hey,” You look up at Yunho apprehensively, “Do you wanna dance?”

His smile makes you nearly melt into the floor as he tips his head to the side, that stupid beige hat lopsided with the motion, “Of course, Doll. I thought you’d never ask.”

He takes your beer from your hands and discards it in the trash. Grabbing your hand and pulling you to the center of the barn where everyone is mingling and dancing together. 

You stumbled over your feet and braced yourself on his chest. He grinned down at you, “Well hello pretty girl.” 

He placed his hands on your waist to steady you. “Hi,” you whispered up at him.

He held you so gently. Letting you both sway to the song that reverberated off the wooden walls of the barn. But you paid no mind to the music or the dust at your feet or Wooyoung’s eyes that you could feel boring into your back. Too focused on the way you could hear the rustle of Yunho’s shirt as you danced.

As soon as the song picked up its beat, though, the two of you started to really have your fun. His hands found your own and he pulled you to him before spinning you around. He was careful with you, but not in a way that stomped on any of your excitement. You just felt…safe around him. And as many times as he spun you and dipped you and pulled you to him, you never once doubted his ability to keep you upright and in his arms.

Even when you tripped over your feet a couple times, he always made sure you were steady and balanced. And then he would proceed to giggle and tease you for being clumsy.

It was so carefree. Being with him made it so easy to forget that you were rotting in your bed just earlier that day. And it wasn’t out of a place of pity. He was just that kind of guy. The one who was so easily able to make you laugh with just his presence. And one that valued your happiness just because you deserved to be happy, not because it made him feel good to cheer you up.

And as the music kept going you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into his big brown eyes. Maybe it was just the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that this man, who seemed to embody everything you would want in man, had you in his arms, but your mind kept flashing with thoughts of lifting his hat off of his head and running your hands through his hair. Brushing your fingers over his cheek. Wrapping your arms around his neck.

As the music slowed, the space between you two shrank until there was virtually nothing between you save for the clothing covering your skin. Yunho’s hands lightly squeezed your waist, his eyes searching your expression for any sign of discomfort, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, letting your hands rest comfortably on his chest, “It’s perfect.”

Your eyes explored his face. Over his lightly flushed cheeks, over his beautiful eyes that tracked your every move, over the soft pink of his lips that made it impossible not to imagine them on your skin. You didn’t even notice when your hands slid from their place on his chest to the back of his neck. Holding yourself closer to him. The tips of your fingers brushing against the pieces of his soft hair that peaked out of his hat.

The sound of the music faded completely into the background. The only beat you could feel was the one of your hearts beating together in rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he said in a whispered breath, “you’re so beautiful.”

You pulled a bit of your lip between your teeth, “Yunho…”

He removed a hand from your waist and cupped your cheek, “Doll.”

You could only blink and look deep into his eyes. Trying to ignore the way your heart pounded erratically in your chest. Your ears drowning out anything but his voice.

“Doll,” he leaned in closer, and his eyes flicked down to your lips, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you practically whimpered. Letting him fill the gap between you. Kissing you with so much need and desire. Like he’d been wanting this for months. For years. His arms wrapped around your back. Holding you as close as he could get you. 

And you let him kiss you so breathlessly that you had to gasp for air when he pulled away in moments. Grasping tight to the back of his neck. Only to be pulled back in by those deep, beautiful eyes.

His lips were so soft on top of your own. Just like you had imagined. But it was the way he held you that made you feel so safe. His arms around you like he’d never let you go. Like the comfort of having someone by your side for a lifetime. 

It felt like a lifetime.

An eternity.

You’d felt that before. 

When you had started dating Yeonjun at nineteen it had felt like a lifetime. And the way he kissed you the first time had made you melt into his arms. You’d rushed headfirst into that relationship. So sure that the sparks that flew between you and the tipsy butterflies filling your gut were enough to sustain the feeling you’d mistaken for love. 

And here you were again. 

Running away from Yeonjun and tumbling into Yunho’s open arms. 

Sweet, sincere, and beautiful Yunho who genuinely seemed to want something deeper with you. 

Who seemed to truly see you and want you despite knowing so little about you.

God, what the fuck were you doing?

Yunho pulled away from you immediately when he felt you freeze up in his arms. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked. His brows furrowed and voice gentle but still piercing through the loud music surrounding you. Concerned at the way you wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

You stumbled away from him, “Yunho, I’m so sorry.” Practically falling out of his grasp and in the next instant you were bolting out the nearest door. 

Yunho stared in shock as the barn’s side door slammed behind you. Glancing over at his friends, he saw that none of them had seemed to notice the incident. And with Rosie and Mingi nowhere in sight, he had no choice to run after you. A mix of fear of confusion guiding his steps as he chased after you. Momentarily losing sight of you in the dark expanse of the pasture.

The soft dirt revealed footprints that matched the pointed toe of your heeled boots along the side of the corn field. He followed them without a thought. Only racking his brain for what had gone wrong. Each step he took had him feeling sicker and sicker with dread. 

Fuck he had moved too fast. 

Never in his twenty-five years of life had he kissed someone without taking them on a date first. Let alone a woman who, before tonight, had not been single every time they had met. He knew he was jumping the gun when he asked Mingi to bring you tonight, though he wasn’t really sure if you were gonna show up. And just the brief idea that he had made you uncomfortable made Yunho want to curl up and die.

As your footsteps made the curve around the edge of the corn field, he finally saw you. Sitting in the old swing that hung from the massive oak tree that loomed over the pasture. 

His heart hurt when he saw you there. Hunched over and sobbing into your hands. With your back to him, he knew you couldn’t see him, but he was sure you knew that he was gonna come after you. Nevertheless, he stepped a bit heavier than he normally would, so you could hear him. Not wanting to scare you off another time.

You refused to turn around when you heard him coming up behind you, but you let your thumbs swipe away the tears that threatened to stream down your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths to try and get yourself together.

And when you caught a glimpse of him stepping into your line of sight, you finally dropped your hands from your face. Teeth gnawing at your lip. Trying to think of something, anything, to say to rectify the mess you had just created.

Because, truth was, that was probably the sweetest and gentlest kiss of your entire life, and maybe if you had held it together for two more seconds, you would have been able to explain your worries to him.

But instead, when you looked up from your lap to the man squatting right in front of you, hat clenched in his hands. And you couldn’t even find it in yourself to swoon at his flushed cheeks or the messy hair falling over his face, because all you could see was the distressed look in his eyes.

“Doll–” he shook his head, “Y/n, I’m sorry if I misread…Fuck.” He dragged a hand over his face and up into his hair, pushing the strands out of his face, “That was too soon. I’m so sorry. I should have never–”

“Yunho,” you cut him off. Still fighting back tears, “You did nothing wrong.”

“But–”

You put your hand up to stop him again, “Stop. Please. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve never asked you to dance. I didn’t mean to give you false hope.”

His heart broke a little, and you could see it in his eyes, “C’mon, you don’t mean that…”

“I’m sorry,” your words came out in a broken whisper, “I’m just…I can’t do this,” you pointed at him and then yourself, “right now.” 

“Sweetheart,” he lifted a hand and cautiously placed it on your knee, and you let him keep it there, “I don’ mean to rush things. We can wait as long as you need and go as slow as you're comfortable with. I just,” he took a deep breath, “don’t wanna let you go.”

You placed your hand over his, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes despite how painful it was, “Yunho, you are such a sweet guy. And I know someday you will make someone so happy.” His head dropped forward, his forehead barely resting against your leg in defeat, “But that someone just isn’t me. Not now. And probably not for a long time. I have too many wounds to heal from Yeonjun, and I just can’t pass that burden on to you.”

He stood up from the ground and you lifted yourself up with him. Your heart nearly cracking in half at the tears streaming down his face, “You won’t even let me try?” His voice came out in a strained whisper.

You reached your thumb up to wipe a tear from his eye, selfishly letting your hand rest on his cheek. You shook your head. “I need time. Too much time to expect you to wait for me.” The hat he dangled in his hands, the hat you’d grown to love, bumped against your thigh. You grabbed it from him and slipped it back onto his head. Smiling sadly up at him “I believe in you, cowboy. You’ll find someone else. I just know it.”

Pushing yourself up onto your toes, you gave him one last kiss on the cheek. Before leaving him standing there in the cool night air. Wishing for a brief second that you hadn’t come tonight at all. But wishing even stronger that you would never leave.

general taglist: 

@swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine 

@sunnysidesins @skzdust @princelingperfect @seomisaho @bigboymoozz

@fireseo @atzlordz @sunwoosbaby @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @kierraperkins3

@my-atiny-kookie-rkive @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @yunhoish @yoongiigolden

ateez taglist: 

@certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms 

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity 

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex 

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr 

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost 

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng @prettygirlslietoo

[lewisvinga]

norman fcking rockwell pt. 2 | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader

part one.

summary; y/n decided to confront daniel after he embarrassed her at dinner.

warnings; cursing

word count; 685

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! tbh i didn’t know how to write this bc i originally wrote pt 1 as a stand alone 🤒🤒so this lowk sucks my bad yall😞🤕🤕

‘born to die’ masterlist.

masterlist !

“Sunshine!” Daniel called out after closing the front door when the last guest had left. The tone in his voice was back to the happy clingy guy Y/n knew behind doors.

“Why’re you cleaning everything now?” He questioned as he saw her standing by the running sink in the kitchen and cleaning the last of the pans, “Just clean it tomorrow. I wanna cuddle with ya’!”

“Not now, Daniel.”

Her cold tone made him almost flinch. She never spoke to him like that. He furrowed up his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s up with you, my love?” He questions, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She scoffs and shoves his arm away. She turns off the sink, quickly dries her hands then walks away from him. The Australian further furrowed up his eyebrows as he followed her to their shared room. “Babe?” He questions as she heads to the bathroom to wash her face and do her skincare routine.

Daniel was confused. He didn’t know why his girlfriend was suddenly all upset. He sat at the edge of their shared bed, lost in his thoughts.

“Are you about to start your period or something?”

His question earned him a glare instead of a verbal response as she poked her head out of the bathroom. Moments later, she appears in her pajamas. “C’mon, sunshine, just tell me what’s wrong? Did the food make you sick?”

“The wife has you tied down?” Y/n says in a high-pitched tone to mock his friend, “Well you know the Missus. Always bein’ clingy and wantin’ me around.” She scoffed, sitting on the opposite side of the bed and far from Daniel.

“What are you saying-“

“Now why don’t you be a lady and get us a couple more beers and more of those potatoes.” She finishes off, rolling her eyes at his interruption. “Seriously, Daniel? You’re ridiculous. Why should I expect anything different from a man around his guy friends.”

“You’re mad ‘bout that?” Daniel asked with a chuckle. He tilts his head to the side and continues, “It was just a silly joke, babe. No need to get angry about it-“

“It was humiliating, Daniel.” Although her voice was soft and quiet, he could hear the hurt in it. “Their girlfriends all looked at me with pity while their laughs sounded like it was mocking me. It was embarrassing. You humiliated me in front of your own friends and for what?”

He stayed silent, finally recognizing how his words had hurt her. Each word she said emphasized how hurt and upset she felt.

At his silence, she scoffed and continued. “But you’re just a man. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Y/n sighs, her fingers fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Y’know, you’re fun and wild, especially with your friends. But damn, you don’t know how that shit felt. I felt blue.”

Daniel scoots closer to her and reaches over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Darlin’, please forgive me.” His voice came out in a genuine whisper. “Those types of jokes are the ones my friends make. I know it isn’t an excuse for me embarrassing you because I don’t need to make the same jokes as ‘em. I should’ve thought twice ‘bout my words.”

“They were stupid.” She mumbles, keeping her eyes on him.

“Yeah, they were stupid jokes. I was stupid for it.” He says with a chuckle. “I know it won’t erase what happened or how you felt, but ‘m sorry. Truly. Believe me, darlin’.” He said the last sentence in a southern accent which was something that always made her smile.

And he was right because she threw a pillow at him as she failed to hide her smile. “You’re on thin ice, Daniel Ricciardo. And I’m going to be listening to Norman Fucking Rockwell by Lana for a long time! You hear me.” She said in between chuckles.

“Promise, I’ll never do or say anything stupid again.”

“But you are just a man…”

“Darlin’, not those types of stupid jokes. But you do make me act stupidly in love.”

[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 ©

[xhoneygirlxx]

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: The cheerleading and boy's basketball coaches are the talk of Hawkins High. When they can't seem to put two and two together, the students have to take matter into their own hands to get the pair together.

warnings: fluff. Steve and reader are both in their 20s. gender/body size/ethnicity are not discussed (the name of the fic was simply picked based off of one line). a little cameo from our favorite metal head. a bit sappy but who cares. idiots in love. we stan the students in this fic, they were doin god's work frfr. also modern au! spelling errors/shitty writing, i'm sick so forgive me for any mistakes lmao.

*if i miss anything please let me know*

a/n: As we all know, today would have been the last day of Honey's birthday bash. That was the plan my friends but bc of party festivities, hangovers, and now a bad cold, we are now behind on schedule. Thank you all for hanging in there with me :) I hope you all enjoy this, love you bunches!

The whole school is rolling fake dice.

Whispers traveled through the echo chamber hallways, bets being placed with the shaking of hands, and gossip being passed back and forth in the lunchroom like a breadbasket at dinner. All anyone could talk about was the two coaches that were blind to their own attraction to one another.

Unbeknownst to you and Steve, you guys were in the middle of a storm of circulating rumors since the beginning of the season. From the moment you two met all hell broke loose, a wildfire spreading through the classrooms of the school.

Everyone could see how much you liked each other, it was so clear like the scoreboard that shined brightly in the gym, except for you. The perfect love story, the cheerleader and jock, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

It started as a game between the cheerleaders and the basketball players, betting on who would break first and finally make it official. Soon it became a game amongst the rest of the student body, all of them biting at their nails and crossing their fingers in the hope that one of you would crack.

To everyone's disappointment, neither of you ever did. It was exhausting watching the two of you dance around your clear feelings for one another. The two of you tried to play it cool, act like any of the accusations were just that, accusations. But it was there, bright as day, on display for the whole world to see.

It was in the way your eyes would find each other's in a crowded room, feather light touches that would linger for way too long, shy smiles and rosy cheeks. The way you talked to one another was anything but two people who worked together. It was teasing, flirty, and breathless any time you talked.

There was a big wager for this whole thing, which team would win the biggest check and which one would have to fork over all the money. The cheerleaders and half of the school had their money on Steve, his reputation as a ladies man helping them with their decision. The basketball team and the other half of the school bet on you, knowing you were more outspoken then he is.

Now it's been months since the bets were placed but neither of you finally crossed over the line from friends to lovers. So the cheerleaders did what they do best, they rallied everyone on their side, made a plan that would guarantee their win.

Winter formal was only a week away, both of you were sure to chaperone without a date. So the cheerleaders got to work, making sure their plan would be executed flawlessly.

Phase #1: Plant the seeds

Two loud knocks against the heavy wood door of Steve's office bring him out of his computer screen. Shouting a come in, he's met with the sight of the student council president, Lauren McPhee who holds a white paper.

"Sorry to bother you but I need this form filled out for the dance next week!" She's too chipper for a Monday morning, smiling brightly like the sun that hangs in the cold December sky.

"Oh yeah, let me just get a pen." Wheeling back on his desk chair, Steve begins to pat his shirt while looking around at his cluttered desk for the writing instrument.

Once he snatches the ballpoint pen from under the stack of papers, Steve grabs the flimsy sheet from Lauren's hand and scribbles down his signature on every empty line.

"Alrighty, there you go." With a tight lipped smile, he hands it back to the nice girl.

Steve watches as her eyes flit over the paper, flipping it front to back to make sure everything is filled out properly. When her features twist in confusion he can't help but wonder why.

"Everything look good?" He questions and she shakes her head while still reading over the curled letters of his name.

"Y-yeah, it's just," pulling her lip between her teeth, Lauren begins to chew on it anxiously, "the section for your date has been left blank. Excuse me if I'm crossing a line here, coach, but you're not bringing a date?"

Her voice is sympathetic, lips pulled into a deep from and her eyes sparkling with pity as she looks at the older man. Steve isn't sure why she seems so upset about him going alone or why it would be a problem, but when she looks at him like a dog that's been kicked he feels the need to answer.

"Oh, well I don't really have anyone to take. Plus it's more important for me to be paying attention to the punch bowl to make sure no asshole- I mean jerk, spikes it." With a forced laugh, he waits to see if his answer is enough to suffice the girl's curiosity.

"O-oh that makes sense I guess, I just though maybe you and the cheerleading coach would go together. You know cause they're also going alone and from what they told me, they never been to their winter formal before." Shrugging, the girl moves her sights from him back to the paper.

"They told you that?" Steve's answer is met with a hesitant nod from the girl. "I-I didn't know that." He breathes.

"At least they'll finally be able to go, right?" Again she shrugs, pulling a folder from her bag to put the paper away.

"Wait!" It comes out louder than he expected, cringing slightly at his volume. "Can I hold onto that and then had it in later?"

"Sure! I'll be back on Wednesday." A sunny smile shines at him, the white paper being passed back to him. "See you then, coach."

Waving him goodbye, Lauren shuts the door behind her where the cheerleaders wait for her. With a singular thumbs up, they begin to jump with joy only for a moment before moving on to phase two.

Phase #2: Destroy the band room

Now destruction of school property was not something any student was willing to get written up for, but with the help of an adult maybe they wouldn't have to.

Mr. Munson was the band instructor and drama teacher, as well as Steve Harrington's right hand man. Before he was an educator, Eddie Munson menaced these halls for many years. Before getting his act together and after he quit selling weed to the students in the woods, he worked as an apprentice for a while, following a plumber around for months while he went to college for education.

"Mr. Munson come on, don't you want to see your bestie finally get a happy ending?" Karissa Thomas batted her eyelashes at him as she begged for his help.

"I don't know guys, I could get into a lot of trouble." Rubbing his forehead, Eddie sighs as he weighs out his options in his head.

"Think of it this way, you can finally give principle Higgins the finger. At least metaphorically." Anthony Whitmer adds.

"Plus, we'll give you some of the profits." Mark, another band kid pleads from the group.

Eddie leans against his desk wide eyed, smirking slightly at his band students. Who knew they would be so devious.

"Fuck it, I'm in." The group before him shout in victory while Eddie laughs devilishly. Somethings never changes, he thinks.

So this morning when he arrived at school, Eddie made sure that no one was around when he began fucking with the pipes. After about twenty minutes and sore upper arms, he finally succeeds by springing a leak.

When he reported the leak to principle Higgins, he was met with a side eye before getting the approval of the gym slot after school, which meant you and your team would be forced to share with Harrington and his team until it got fixed.

Phase #3: Offer planning services to coach Harrington

Now to bring this whole plan together, cheer captains Dan Morrison and Amber Hall needed to be in the same place at the same time as Steve Harrington. The only problem was his office and where he usually occupied the most was the east wing of the school. The east wing was the closest to his office and it was the least traveled hallways out of the whole school.

That meant they needed to make it look like they were that way for a reason. Luckily for them, the art room was also in the east wing, so they would make it look like they were grabbing poster boards for last minute winter formal posters.

Lunch time was the best time to put this into motion, so the minute the 11:50 bell rang, Dan and Amber sprinted to the east wing in the hopes they would catch him.

After rummaging around for glitter, markers, and poster boards, the two waited at the door, peaking over the frame in the hopes to catch the older man. When the door of his office opened, the two seniors began to walk out of the room talking about random things to not make it look so obvious.

In the hopes of sparking a conversation with him, Amber dropped the container of markers causing colorful pens to fall all over the hard floor.

"Amber, I told you not to drop them!" Dan laughs, putting the white posters to the floor in order to pick up the rolling markers.

"You made me laugh!" The girl argues back, laughing loudly as she crouches to help.

"I didn't even do anything." He replies, making the girl laugh even harder at his comment.

The echo of Steve's heavy footsteps could be heard by both teenagers, but they ignore it so he wouldn't catch on.

"You guys cool?" Steve asks, crouching down to help pick up what fell.

"H-hi coach," Amber greets, catching her breath from her heavy laughter, "We're okay, Dan just made me drop these."

The boy in question huffs and rolls his eyes playfully, continuing his actions of gathering the rest of what's on the floor.

"So what are you guys doing with all this, anyway?" Steve asks, pushing off on his knees to stand.

"Oh, just last minute posters for the dance." Dan says nonchalantly as he gathers his pile of supplies.

"You're going, right?" The young girl asks and Steve responds with a small sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah I'll be there." Nodding his head, the man places his hands on his hips looking at the two kids in front of him.

"That's fun! Are you bringing a date?" Amber wiggles her eyebrows.

Shoving her playfully, Dan looks at her with a gasp. "Oh my gosh, Amber you can't just ask that. Sorry, coach." Doing his best to look sympathetic, Dan offers his best smile to the older man.

"It's okay, Dan," Steve places a hand out, looking at the brown haired boy, "Actually, I was wondering if you guys could help me with that."

"Sure!" The cheerleaders agree in unison.

"Let's talk about this in my office." Pointing a thumb to the end of the hall, spinning of the ball of his foot to lead the way.

Steve defiantly doesn't see how bright both of the teen's smiles are from where they walk behind him and he surely doesn't see them giving each other a high five.

Phase #4: Get you to go to the parking lot before practice

This phase was probably the hardest of them all. You were very keen on punctuality, always the first to be at the building to make sure everything was set up. Now that you'd be sharing the gym with the basketball team, you were more than likely to be there a whole lot earlier than usual.

Now this is where the most important players come in, Lauren Hernandez and Simon Carter. The two freshmen were bright stars at Hawkins High, the leading members of the mathletes and very trust worthy students.

When this whole plan started it was known that they'd need someone who was convincing to divert your attention, so the two meek students volunteered without a second thought. The amount of money they'd win if coach Harrington made the first move was way more important than credibility at this point.

When they spotted you coming through the outside gym door, the two kids began to put on their show. Rushing through the two gymnasium doors, Lauren and Simon pant acting as if they ran a mile.

"C-coah, we need-" Simon bends over, bracing his hands on his knees while breathing heavily, "We need your help!"

You immediately drop your bags, sprinting over to the two youths. Worry is written all over your face, eyes immediately checking for any visible injuries on them.

"I-is everything okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Placing a hand on your chest, you wait for them to catch their breath.

"There's a fight outside. Max Newman and Devon Lewis are fighting in the parking lot." Lauren rushes out, eyes wide and glassy under the gym lights.

You're more than shocked at the news, the two boys have been great friends the whole time you've coached them. In a flash, you urge both kids to get coach Harrington from his office while you break up the fight.

What you don't know is neither Simon or Lauren have to get him, waiting until the slam of the heavy gym door both run after you to make sure they don't miss a single moment.

Rushing through the entrance doors, the cold winter chill instantly hits you but you don't pay too much attention to it when there isn't a fight happening.

When you walk outside, you see your team of cheerleaders lined up on both sides of the steps, a red rose in each hand. As you walk, they hand them to you, bright smiles on each of their faces when they do.

You can't speak with the amount of confusion that runs through your brain. Even though you want to ask them what all of this is about, you just let your feet carry you out into the parking lot.

You jump slightly when you hear Wildest Dreams being play, the only difference is the band kids stand off to the side with their instruments. Giggling slightly, you imagine Eddie Munson teaching his kids a Taylor Swift song but Bridgerton style.

With a bundle of roses in hand, you continue out into the snow covered parking lot. Under the street lights you see him standing with his hands in his pockets. Behind him stands some of the drama kids, holding big white posters. Taking a moment to read the blue and silver lettering, you gasp when it finally hits you.

F O R M A L ?

Tears prick your eyes and not just because of the cold winter wind. The thought and dedication that went into this must've taken so much (more than both of you even realize), you're heart beaming with the thought of Steve putting this together.

"So what do you say, coach? Will you do me the honors of being my date to the dance?" Steve's cheeks are red and his teeth glimmer under the florescent lights.

You can't help but let more tears fall, all of the pining and wishing finally coming true under the darken sky, right where the two of you first met. It feels too good too be true, a real life fairytale happening in real time.

"Of course I will." It comes out loud enough for only him to hear, the two of you looking at each other in adoration.

In a split moment, Steve's strong hands pull you in and wrap you in the tightest hug, something you dreamt of all this time. Even in the cold temperatures, his body heat, his touch holds the heat of a thousand suns.

The roaring cheer of all of those around you, besides the band who continue to play, fills the open air. You and Steve are so wrapped up in each other you don't even notice the flash of the camera, Andrew Johnson of the yearbook committee getting multiple shots of the whole thing.

Pulling back enough to look at one another, you smile brightly up at him. Steve looks so pretty like this, cherry nose, snow flurries collecting in his eyelashes and hair, and a smile so sweet it could rot your teeth.

"I can't believe you did all of this." You say with a laugh, shaking your head in amazement.

Chuckling slightly, he looks down bashfully at you. "Yeah well, I had some help." The two of your look all around the parking lot where multiple students stand, all from different clubs, groups, and social brackets beam and cheer for the two of you.

The two of you turn back to one another, gooey looks on both of your faces and love filling your eyes. "Who would've thought." You say breathlessly and he agrees.

"Can I kiss you?" It's breathless and hopeful when Steve says it, and you're answer is just as breathless.

Connecting his lips to yours felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, it's feels like home, and it feels right. Like a snow globe, you and Steve are frozen for just a moment under the December snow.

I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3

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[indigo-constellation]

Your changeling!Daniil is amazing. Your Clara Burakh is amazing. Your totally-normal-scientist (who totally didn't do anything like Jack the Ripper and Victor Frankenstein in the capital! only ethically sourced bodies here!) Artemiy is amazing.

Clara as Haruspex is breaking my heart especially! The way you wrote her being friends with the kids - how Artemiy was once with Stakh, Grief and Lara - and how she has a foreboding feeling she won't belong with them once it is all over, because her role is to protect them, not be one of them! Rat man still found a way to be mean my girl 😭 Also she and Grace are so sweet. Wanted to say that Grace's name (Ласка) in Russian has double meaning: 1) weasel (animal); 2) tenderness. Do with that as you will~

Also Daniil (both of them) is so good as a changeling. I loved that quiet moment he had with Clara on the stage, where they say how odd it is to play like that. Love the eyes of the "twins" being what sets them apart, too! Raven feels like he wants to be a bad guy, but can't quite bring himself. Regretful plague that is also a dead man who is alive but only because the sickness is. Snake being so gentle and kind and seemingly having some sort of planning he doesn't fully share even with the reader. Also Daniil speaking Hebrew! I gasped when I realised. It's also a fun contrast to him only speaking in Latin in the game, especially if we still to see him as Jewish. Makes me really want to see how you'd write bachelor!Daniil! Want to take a look inside his head! I know what I shall read next.

Artemiy having a worst imposter syndrome out of all of them because of coming back home where he was supposed to take on his father's role and finding the man who was a founder of a project that could be called Artemiy's life work is comedy gold. Also his little sister literally living the life he refused! 10/10 no notes. Artemiy and his unfun coming-home-to-steppe party! 🥳 Roots, Rain and Reflection is secretly a comedy.

Thank you for writing this amazing role reversal, don't think I will be able to get it out of my head.

tumblr is so annoying bc I had a whole response and then it got deleted roijepigjetiuheoigj let me try to write what I can remember and hopefully do it better

I literally screamed when I read this ask btw thank you so much

the healers in this fic are so incredibly dear to me and I love them so much, I love getting to focus on them, yes Artemy's organs and cadavers as ethically sourced and fresh as he can get them :D

Haruclara truly deserves so much, she doesn't fit into the Termites despite being a kid herself, half because of the way she was raised and half because of the nature of the story and the separation of Healers and Bound. While also having messy connections with the other two Healers. I really wish I could have more Grara but this is primarily p1 focused so the Bound's role is limited (the amount of Yulia/Rubin/Lara/Aspity I had to cut- istg I was so excited to have an Aspity and Artemy interaction on day 6 but it would've been too long) I will keep what you said in mind though! thank you ^^

Changeniil has been so write, he keeps so much of himself hidden, so getting to reveal those small bits of him like in that theatre bit are great. The hands and the eyes being the main things to distinguish the twins Dankovsky is fun because those are two things Pathologic focuses on a lot, though I will say that there might be more later on. The Raven is a miserable wet beast, the idea behind the twins has been that different bits of Daniil are split up, so and what's fun about that is that it's Plagueniil that has the idealism. He's a fucked up guy held together only by spite and disease but he cares so much it hurts him. The Snake is also a creature, truly, he knows his plan, Raven knows his plan (and doesn't like it at all), and I know how it will fail, the narrators being unreliable is such a fun part of patho. I always write Daniil as Jewish (because he is to me lol) but specifically Daniil I think fits with Hebrew because it is a revived language and as a guy who is trying to defeat death I think it would suit him (also revived language and revived Daniil was an intentional choice) I will say though, idk how well my old writing holds up bc my writing got a lot better while writing roleswap so go at your own risk lol

Finally, Bachtemy, a dearly beloved fool <3 he used to have a much bigger conflict with Daniil about Daniil not being who Artemy expected him to be and that being a lot more angsty but then I started writing that scene and it turned out gay so nice. There's a lot about Artemy I'm planning to go into in chapter 7 so look out for that. Artemy is also 100% the character I get to make the funniest, truly the comedian of the cast, I am putting him in the blender as I write this.

thank you again for this!! sorry with inflicting you with the thinking about it curse lol, it's happened to a few people as I've seen and idk how to fix that (I am also infected I cannot stop thinking abt this au) but this long ask really made me so happy to see and I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

[sundaechaos]

sydcarmy fics recs (i love-love this)

hi! hello! so, i was thinking that i read most of the fics on the tag of sydcarmy on ao3 and i need to share my favorites ones (and bc i keep forgetting to add to bookmark, so maybe is better here)

(not specific order, i just love to read and everything in the sydcarmy tag is perfect; if you know the tumblres or twitter dm me I'll put here)

pink for the au's

purple for the canon-divergence

orange for multiworks

quick note: most of this are the very first fics i read when the hiperfixation with sydcarmy entered to my life, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

You Were Bigger Than The Whole Sky by @sofaroffbway

A conversation with her father forces Sydney to confess the only thing she is still hiding from Carmy. He needs to know. They are getting married after all. | #finish

Hands Full of Plates by @Thesuncameout

The first year of The Bear, through the eyes of its Chef de Cuisine and Executive Chef. | #finish

Normal People by @cryobabyy

What is he to her anyway? He feels like her boss when he tells her what to do. When he doesn’t break eye contact as he asks for her input on the new menu, he feels like a business partner. When his hand ghosts against her lower back and his thumb slips under her sweatshirt, it’s an accident. He was just trying to get by; just a polite nudge, right? (Little blurbs of Carmy and Syd falling in love and being idiots about it) | #ongoing(please, come back)

Oyster Knife by @purposechef

Sydney Adamu seeks answers. / note: and every fic written by purposechef, but this have a special place in my heart, is everything that i love of sydney and carmy. | #finish

Take Care by @purposechef

Ingredients: - 1 culinary school dropout - 1 recently fired CDC - 48 hours in New York City

Steps: 1. Have a panic attack; drop out of culinary school. 2. Accidentally become the head food critic of the New York Times. 3. Write a review that gets the CDC of Eleven Madison Park fired. 4. Let sit until you have an emotionally unwieldy mess. | #finish

The Wild, Wild Berry by @Blissymbolics

The elderberries were undercooked, rendering them toxic. She finds Carmen helpless on the bathroom floor. Her fingertips tingle with the desire to comb his sweat-drenched hair. It’s embarrassing; it’s beneath her. But still, there’s something sweet in his weakness. He trusts her to keep the world running in his absence, and feed him when his appetite returns. | #finish

Fundamentals for the Fun and Mental by @bioloyg

It's been weeks since Carmen Berzatto found himself locked in the walk-in on the opening night of The Bear, but if you asked him, he'd tell you it felt like it happened yesterday. If you asked anyone else... well, they'd tell you these past few weeks have felt like a lifetime. Which is exactly why Sydney and Natalie decide to send Carmen on vacation. | #finish

The Million Little Things by @peachybunnybabie

The relationship of Carmen and Sydney. | #multiworks

Don't leave me now, you might love me back by @adogwithabirdatyour_door

for you i am a child, believing: It’s been a while since something like this happened.

snow is outside but i'm by your fire (i feel all the love you bring): they're always staring.

faithful friends who are dear to us (will be near to us once more): Or, the first time Sydney really felt like part of the family.

it's a lot to ask of me (to believe in you): In the midst of an early-relationship fight, Carmy gets sick. Sydney has a lot to think about.

kill the doubt that strangles my self worth (paint the picture that i swore i heard): Hosting a dinner party stirs up old memories for Carmy

you change all the lead, sleeping in my head: The question slips out without her permission, spoken with the same candor she’d used to ask him if he wanted a dog.

you say you wanna stand by my side (darlin' your head's not right): Sydney is a supporting gf.

To be continued...(like Storer playing with me at the final of s3)

[sun-stricken]

Some ideas for you! Take your pick!

Gray frequents the infirmary the most. In one of my ideas lately, after thinking about iced shell, maybe ice make makes the body a bit more…prone to cracking? Maybe he bruises easy and gets a lot of head wounds. It’s why he’s always in bandages longer. I like the idea of Porlyusica getting sick of him.

Team Natsu/the guild/slayers taking care of him, even when he doesn’t realise it. (Against pervs, against himself, maybe people are a bit racist (with him being not from Fiore).

Gray gets sad sometimes and dissociates.

Gray has night terrors so he has sleeping pills, but on missions he also has caffeine tablets to keep him awake so he doesn’t have terrors around them. Safe to say, they aren’t happy when they find this.

Lucy asks Gray about where he’s from, traditions etc, and the guild realises he might be homesick so they secretly try to learn things for him. (Over the years they’ve picked up swear words (Gray doesn’t realise he’s doing it and they’ve never told him))

Gray’s actually quite touch starved. His body temperature is cold so most people stay away/ don’t touch him (but don’t realise they’re doing it). The only one who can stand is Natsu because of his magic. Maybe it gets worse after becoming a slayer.

…also do you take spicy requests?

you cant just give me all these amazing concepts and tell me to pick☹️ i will do a little for all of them if it kills me

Also yes! i absolutely do take nsfw requests! feel free to ask me anything! im surprised it took so long to ask me that tbh

there is a lot here so vv

1.

* Hes the single reason why the guild infirmary is always having to restock

* Due to Grays multiple usages of iced shell some of his body did turn to ice, most sections of his bones, it looks like a normal bones but it acts like ice, which means hes more likely to break a bone

* unfortunately, its not like a normal broken bone for obvious reasons. itll splinter and have hairline cracks all over the bones before it breaks.

* It takes less time to heal than a normal break, he just has to get it wrapped and limit his usage of his magic so it can ‘heal’ (as in, ice it over again) the breaks and cracks. It takes less time to heal and also less pressure to break, win lose situation tbh

* Which is also why head wounds are especially dangerous for him, skull fractures are more common for him than anyone would like, which is to say any at all

* His external body temperature is low and causes him to bruise like a peach, getting a friendly slap on the back can cause him to bruise for weeks, especially from Erza

* bro hasnt gone a day without a bruise in like ten years

* Hes been dragged to Porlyusica so many times now that anytime she sees him (on the field, in her office, even completely out of context and hes not visibly injured) its like second nature to check him out first

* if she could go a month, or even just two weeks! without seeing him she might consider changing her views on humanity (probably not but its the thought that counts)

* Also Gray has small sections of what people think is frostbite on his hands and feet. It doesnt hurt or limit him at all but theyre there, showed up some time post devil slayer magic

* ALSO! His blood runs slower and is darker due to his low body temperature, causes him only the vaguest of problems but its a thing (this is common in most powerful ice wizards)

2.

* Gray likes to pretend hes good at taking care of himself, but hes not hes really not

* Luckily he has a lot of nosy and protective friends thatll do it for him (in their own ways)

* Natsu literally temperature exploding some guys glass at a bar when he got wayyyy too friendly and handsy with Gray

* they were kicked out but he was really proud of himself

* Rogue drawing shadows towards Gray if he needs to sleep and its too bright, or Sting creating a warm light beam when its dark out and Gray wants to embrace his inner cat and sleep in a sunbeam

* Wendy checking him over first bc she knows hes one of the people who wouldnt ask for help if he was injured

* hes had multiple people physically remove him from fights/training sessions because he was visibly pushing himself way too hard

* Part of the reason Gray learned Fioren so fast was because he was sick of people looking at him like he was stupid for not speaking ‘right’

* he mentioned this to the little slayer group they got goin on and from then on out they were like, hella hyper vigilant with anything that could make him insecure like that again

3.

* It really scared him the first couple times he did it, it still does. He hates losing time

* It started happening during his time with Ur, he cant remember a lot of it, training, blink, fighting, blink, training, blink, training, you get the idea

* It doesnt happen often, and he tried not to think of it past the point of trying to get it to stop

* Its happens often when hes highly stressed but theres no immediate physical threat, his brain doesnt understand whats going on or why its so stressed but knows he doesnt need to physically protect himself yet so it mentally protects him (if that makes sense), usually when hes alone, or when a threat is gone

* he confided in Erza about this once, and now more times than not when he ‘wakes up’ shes there talking to him

* only part he feels is good about it is that it makes him exhausted and lets him sleep easier

* He doesn’t usually dissociate often, not that he has much of a choice, if he did it wouldnt happen at all, but it was a lot worse when he was younger, his memories of early fairy tail are all blurry and he felt like he was on autopilot even when he was ‘awake’

* he hates it

4.

* After his team found out abt his vast array of pharmaceuticals they were so confused and concerned and probably borderline paranoid, because who needs that many medications for one person??

* Gray had been taking sleeping pills at a high enough dose to let him have a dreamless sleep for so long that most over the counter brands dont actually work on him

* but he kept all the old bottle that didnt work just in case he got desperate to sleep and they suddenly magically worked again

* The caffeine tablets were self explanatory after seeing all the sleeping meds, but he also (unwillingly) admitted he takes them on missions so he wouldnt wake them if he had a nightmare, and also for days when they were especially bad so he could go long enough without sleep hed just crash and sleep with no issues. Canr have a nightmare if you dont sleep

* His team was also extremely unimpressed by these explanations

* Erza and Natsu (and also Happy) strong armed him into going to Porlyusica for actual helpful solutions since he refused to go to his actual doctor

* While Lucy and Wendy disposed of the full fucking pharmacy (seriously, he coulda started a business or smth) he had in his bedroom

* For some odd reason he felt lighter and less moody when he was on actual helpful medication and was getting genuine rest

* how strange

* and if his team checks his house for another pharmacy in the making thats nobodies business but theirs

* Also Erza tried to ban Gray from caffeine while on a quest , or at least limit it, but he looked at her like she was absolutely batshit crazy to the point she got embarrassed and had to retract the ban

* But she will tie him to the bed to make him sleep on quests if she has to

5.

* The first time Lucy asked where Gray was from was before Galuna, he ended up giving her a shady answer and redirecting the question to her (reminder, before galuna, before phantom lord) which she ended up also being a bit cagey about so she let it go

* But Lucy is nosy (endearing) by nature, so she asked if he had any different holiday type traditions sometime after Galuna, and to the surprise of, well, literally everyone, he did and gave examples

* which lead down a rabbit hole of the guild fretting a bit abt how to make him comfortable (even though hed been with them for a decade) bc he mentioned he used to be really homesick the first couple years, and sometimes still is

* Most the guild still had no clue where he was from so they were really just running in circles for awhile

* Levy tried to figure it out from the time he accidentally dropped, what she assumed to be colorful curse words, random foreign language bits

* didnt really work but she tried

* so for months he was bombarded with ‘subtle’ questions about his hometown and its culture, which got shut down most the time

* Thats not to say he didnt give them anything, he gave them enough that they were incorporated into existing traditions and holidays they already celebrated

* it was a very sweet gesture that Gray absolutely did not tear up at, so shut up—

6.

* Gray is the most touch starved fool on the planet. ive always loved the idea of him liking touch a lot

* He grew up in a pretty affectionate family, his parents were always around to ruffle his hair, or hug, or hold his hand, or carry him, they were just very physically affectionate and he enjoyed it

* With it made him nauseous, guilty really, because Ur and Lyon were also physically affectionate but it wasnt them, it wasnt his family

* Also it was plain uncomfortable at times, part of learning ice magic was to almost numb himself to cold, but in the beginning numbed him to everything and it became uncomfortable to be touched because it was tingly and it hurt

* Early Fairy Tail he was completely closed off, couldnt stand being touched, didnt want to get cozy and make friends because he planned to leave anyways.

* Ice mages (Fire mages also) temperatures can fluctuate depending on how they feel, for example, if they’re experiencing negative emotions their temperature and the space around them will get colder

* and Gray used to be so angry and upset all the time, and hed just beginning to learn magic so he didnt know how to fix it yet, which caused a lot of discomfort for people.

* People didnt stay around him long because the discomfort of being too cold, and what was he gonna do about it? ask them to come back?? hell no

* So he gained a reputation and people didnt want to disrespect a volatile childs apparent boundaries so they didnt question it

* He was fine with fighting being the only real prolonged touch hed get, totally

* But Natsus got this thing about him that makes him think he can do the impossible, which includes shaking Grays world view and comfort levels

* At some point in their teens Natsu would not let go of the alleged fact that Grays didnt like being touched for some reason, so he did what he does best and pressed the issue

* it ended with Gray being a puddle in his lap while he had a crisis about everything he thought he knew about himself while Natsu celebrated his victory against him

* Its not completely public knowledge but the guild most definitely knows at least a little about how much Gray is touch starved

* he doesnt openly welcome it with open arms but if its happening and he trusts the person hes not gonna say no

* he probably gets a euphoria high from a head pat or smth

* After getting his devil slayer magic is absolutely got worse, having two powerful ice magics, one of which he was still struggling to get the hang of, in one body made it difficult to control the temperature around him, and after long enough people would start shivering if he wasnt careful

* it sucked, totally and completely sucked

* Natsu still remained unbothered and would increase his own temperature to counterbalance Grays, which helped a lot

* he still gets all up in Grays space no matter how much Gray tell him to fuck off, he knows he needs it

[isa-ghost]

May I humbly ask for more q!phil headcanons? 👉👈

Fuck yeah concrete >:D

Previous Sets: Set 1 Set 2 Set 3 Set 4 Set 5

M O R E

He'll go above & beyond for his friends for as long as it takes, but when a situation proves futile or hopeless, he gives up. And hates it. He feels guilty for it even when he knows there's nothing more he can do. He also HATES being helpless (it's part of why he's taking being grounded so hard)

Once his mind is made up, it's made up. It's very hard to change his mind. You practically need a PowerPoint of irrefutable facts & proof of why he should think another way

Yeah. He's stubborn. It can be infuriating. But it comes from a place of life experience, knowing what he wants, and a hint of paranoia for flavor. It's not exactly a flaw, but it does act as a detriment sometimes

And don't get him wrong, he doesn't always like being stubborn. Sometimes he just can't imagine things any other way than how he's picturing. He does feel bad sometimes about being the way he is. He has a hard time trusting things that aren't his gut or Rose

He's grown to like walks. He misses flying obv but walkies are pretty okay. He still gets to see neat stuff, and clear his head if his paranoia isn't too awful

He knows he's losing touch with reality slowly. He's just unaware there's words for it (derealization, dissociation). And he tries really hard not to think about it, it makes him sick with dread because once again, it gnaws at his ability to control his situation or himself

Btw that's one of his deepest fears if it wasn't obvious. Like yeah he has basic bitch fears that most other people have like losing loved ones or w/e, but his personal Big Fear is the loss of his autonomy. It's part of why he's an anarchist & hates the Federation, another part of why being flightless is killing him inside, and part of why Ender King scares him. Especially after Rose's most recent message (1/17/24) said EK has no vessel. Phil's mind shot right to "He needs a vessel and that vessel is me. That's what he wants."

He does NOT like acknowledging that to a degree, he & Ender King DO have things in common. He constantly rationalizes it in his brain as "I have crow brain, I collect the things that look shiny & cool. Ender King is malicious, it's not the same."

Lowkey hates the quiet. It's nice to get out of chaotic environments for bit, but that doesn't mean the silence will grant him peace. He starts getting lost in his own head, or winds up understimulated. Music is a good buffer. Ideally though, he likes having the kids or one person to bounce off of (& keep him mentally grounded when he's stressed). It's why he adventures with Fit so often.

Speaking of silence, and calling back to fears, there's something so inexplicably uncomfortable to him about footsteps that aren't his, esp in quiet. See, the admins invisible Federation workers that just monitor things, he can usually tolerate those bc it's easy to guess when it's them he's accompanied by & not an unknown presence. But man, when he knows he should absolutely be alone atm but hears movement that isn't his own, his adrenaline shoots through the roof. (Little does he know, that's Hardcore Instincts kicking in. He's used to that movement being a mob out to kill him)

Rose's Sanctuary is a fitting enough "altar" for her, so to speak. Even though she made it herself. The Goddess of Death however, Phil needs something for her. He has a locket with a wither rose engraved in it for now, he doesn't want to be questioned by his friends why there's a weird purple & black altar in his house when,,, he might have to tell them there's (an entirely different) purple & black motherfucker trying to maybe possess him who Is Very Bad. Also there's no way they'd believe he's married to a goddess. He can hear Fit laughing already.

He keeps getting distracted but he really wants to either build a practice range for bows or just. Go on a solo adventure shaking off the rust on his aim. He misses the rush of pride he gets when he snipes something so flawlessly. He also procrastinates on it when he's Not distracted bc he has the scythe & he's in love with it. (Also it's a symbol of Death Wife)

Every now and then he'll banter with the invisible Feds trying to bargain with them for the Good Shit(tm) Mexican food they had at Mexican Independence Day. Things have been so chaotic lately he hasn't gotten the chance to ask Chayanne to make them & like HELL he could successfully make them himself

That said, he's actually not a terrible cook like he claims. He just hates how laborious cooking can be LMAO.

Even so, he still really wants to cook for Missa. Purely for bonding reasons. He has no idea Missa would probably crush even harder on him, Phil still thinks they're mutually platonic.

[pupyuj]

THOUGHTS!!! WE NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ABT YUJIN FROM THE TEASER— its making me FEEL things its crazy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 oh god 🧎

kinda late to this ask considering it's been days BUT I AM CONVINCED THAT I WILL NEVER GET OVER EITHER WAY YUJ...

maybe i just miss summer but that pool behind yuj in her teaser photo just made me think.. being a bit of a crazy pair of bffs together n getting yourselves into trouble just for the fun of it :(((( like sneaking into the public at night, somehow avoiding detection from the security guards around the outside of the pool,, giggling as the two of you entered the completely empty pool,,, and then yujin says she wants to go skinny dipping but doesn't even wait for you to agree with her bcs she suddenly just starts pulling off her clothes 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

"are you just gonna stand there?" she asks as ruffled her hair a little, grinning at you bcs you were totally checking her out.. but how could you not⁉️⁉️

"i-i... uh—"

"here." yujin grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging on it lightly and raising her eyebrow at you,, msmdhsjcjskx you let her strip you down until you were as naked as she was,,

"damn, (y/n)." yujin teased, poking your stomach,, you rolled your eyes, covering up your chest with your arms bcs 1) it was cold, 2) your best friend was staring at you like she wanted to eat you, 3) you wanted to crawl in hole—you have never been naked in front of your best friend before!! ☹️☹️

"we're gonna get sick, y'know..."

"yeah. awesome."

and then she fucking pushes you into the pool 😭😭 your yelp getting cut off by a loud splash, and there's yujin cracking the fuck up as you came back up the surface gasping for air... see, you would be mad if it were anyone else considering swimming was one of your weak points.. but seeing your best friend smile like that was nearly worth drowning! as bad as that sounds 😭

ofc you weren't going to let her get away with what she did so while she was hunched over laughing at you, you grabbed her arm and pulled her into the water with you 😭 yujin is silly so she pretends that she's struggling to come back up, making you panic and try to grab her but then she takes a hold of your waist and pulls you down underwater sjdbdjfjs,,, there was a lot of pushing and not-so-subtle groping and it wasn't until you ended up putting your hands on her shoulders that she pulled you close and brought the two of you back up on the surface,,

you brushed her wet hair away from her face, cupping her cheeks with your hands.. your heart melting as she smiled widely at you... omgomg yujin leaning in to kiss you before you could say anything :((( the kiss being desperate and sloppy but at the same time being so passionate that you felt your chest burning with desire,,, attempting to pull away bcs it didn't feel right kissing your best friend but yujin keeps you in place, whispering "it's okay" against your lips before kissing you again :((( AAAKCKCC SHE WOULD BE A GOOD KISSER I JUST KNOW IT... (actually i do know cuz she's my girlfriend—) wrapping your arms around her neck and fully melting into her lips?? feeling only warmth despite being in the water??

only the smacking of both of your lips and your moans being heard in the area... until yujin had your back pressed up against the nearest side of the pool, your moans now getting louder bcs she had started kissing down your neck and pressing her thigh against your bare cunt underwater 😵‍💫 holding yourself still on her thigh while yujin has her way with you—marking you up, slowly guiding your hips and making you grind against her... oh she was too good at this 🫠🫠🫠

"you wan' me to fuck you right here, (y/n)?" she was asking after leaving a pretty big hickey right underneath your jawline... you took her by surprise when you shook your head, immediately making her snap out of a state and removing her thigh from between your legs... "crap. i should've known. s-sorr—" shddjfjksf kissing her again to shut her up bcs she didn't let you talk first 😭😭

pulling away from her without a word and climbing out of the pool all of a sudden?? leaving her in the water confused and shit but then you sat down on the edge of the pool facing her... and you opened up your legs, giving yujin a full view of your pretty pussy,, 😵‍💫 "come here. this is what i want you to do." you were saying,,, oh god it drove yujin insane 🫠🤭 she has always dreamed of times like this!

yujinnie coming closer and wasting no time putting her lips on your folds... and you're blushing so hard hearing her moan in pleasure bcs of how you tasted on her tongue,, "always knew you'd be delicious..." yujin says, putting her hands in between your thighs and keeping them open before completely diving right in,,, you didn't bother to cover up the sounds that left your mouth,, every lick, every suck, and every gentle nibbling on your clit had your mind reeling,,, having to hold onto yujin's head for support and accidentally pulling her hair too hard,,,

"sorry, i j-just—fuck, yujin... s-so good..."

yujinnie smiling up at you, "it's okay. i like it." she said before inserting her tongue inside your cunt, all while keeping eye contact,, her eyes shining when she sees you throw your head back in pleasure,, pushing her head in further,, she works her tongue inside you until you were falling apart in front of her,,, spurting your juices all over her face, which of course yujin diligently lapped up, finding your taste your sweet...

"i told you breaking in here would be worth it." yujin says after a while,, the two of you now laying down on the cold and wet tiled floor 😭😭

"if you wanted to fuck me, you could've just asked. we didn't have to commit b and e—"

"oh, shush, (y/n). i'm adventurous."

and that's why she's your bff ☹️🥰💞

[rose-of-gabriel]

My Teammates, My Friends

Set at the end of s1 ep12: Basic Straining

Harold's revenge doesn't go the way he planned. Courtney reflects on what her team means to her.

Beginning of a series of Season 1 rewrites bc I still love Duncney and can't let things go.

It was the breeziest Courtney had ever felt going into a bonfire ceremony. Yes, they’d lost the challenge, and she was fully prepared to start strategizing again in the morning, but for right now everything just felt right. Duncan stood amongst their fellow Killer Bass members on the other side of the fire pit, meeting her gaze before giving a dramatic roll of his eyes at how much Chris was milking his time at the podium. Courtney ducked her head, a heat rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the burning embers of the fire.

Even when Bridgette and Geoff were called, leaving her in the usually precarious position of bottom two, she didn’t feel worried. For maybe the first time in this competition, her team actually felt like her friends. It was probably - definitely - sad to admit, but she’d never experienced that before. Every “team” she’d ever been a part of - debate team, model UN, student council - had all been so performative and impersonal for everyone involved. Courtney would call those people her friends but she knew it wasn’t the kind of friendship she read about in books or magazines; friends who made you feel at ease, who had your back unconditionally. Yes, she was aware that this was still a competition, but as long as the teams remained, there was a tentative, hopeful, nearly forgotten part of her that trusted the four people before her more than she had anyone else in a long, long time.

These thoughts wrenched to a halt when she realized Chris had cut himself off mid-monologue. She re-focused, expecting to see military personnel or aliens raining down on them since there wasn’t anything else she could think of that would make Chris surrender the spotlight. There was no surrender, though. The devious, snake-like expression curling across his features opened up a pit in Courtney’s stomach, and from the looks of her teammates she could tell they’d noticed the pause with equal trepidation.

“Now campers,” Chris said, setting the plate and final marshmallow atop the podium before reaching into the placket of his shirt, “we have an interesting development.” He produced a folded stack of paper and held it aloft. “See... according to the ballots we received in the ballot box, every. single. person. voted Courtney off.”

The pit in her stomach imploded, leaving her sick and dizzy. She barely heard the reaction of her teammates over the rush of blood in her ears.

Pressure built behind her eyes as her gaze ricocheted across their faces, landing finally on Duncan, or where he would have been had the punk not already taken several imposing steps in Chris’ direction. “Dude, no fucking way! ”

Chris jumped backwards, raising the ballots high in one hand and throwing the other up in front of him. “ Hey! Hold it, hold it, hold it!”

Geoff and DJ both reached to grab Duncan’s shoulders, and while he did stop, his expression was murderous. Chris continued quickly. “All six ballots were for Courtney, making me and the producers more than a little curious as to why one of our fiercest competitors would vote herself off. So we went back and had a looksie at the confessional booth footage.”

Chris inclined his head to where Chef Hatchet was laboriously pushing an old dolly with an even older projection set up the slope toward the bonfire. While Courtney by no means had her barings back, she still noticed how Harold’s shoulders had hiked up to his ears and he had scooted as far from her on the log stool as he could. Suspicion stirred in her mind but she was too rattled to interrogate it.

“Lights please!” Chris called. The array of tiki torches and lanterns surrounding the fire pit suddenly faded to nothing, the only light now coming from the bonfire and the harsh, white light of the mobile projector. “Chef, if you would be so kind, roll tape!”

Chef arranged the projector so it displayed on one of the massive, flat rock faces that walled in the area. He pulled a VHS tape from the front pocket of his apron and opened a compartment on the side of the projector. Before he inserted the tape, though, Harold burst to his feet. “Wait!” he screamed, throwing his spindly body in front of the lens. “Wait, you don’t have to show it.”

“Oh, don’t we?” Chris grinned.

Courtney’s nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. “ Harold.” She growled, rising to her feet with her fists clenched. “ What did you do?”

Duncan was next to speak, cracking his knuckles. “You are dead, shrimpy.”

Unaffected by their outbursts, Chris continued coolly. “You’ve got a choice here, Harold. We can either play the tape or not, but somebody has to walk the dock of shame tonight.”

Everyone had put the pieces together by now; even Geoff’s usual half-grin was soured in a glare. Duncan started toward their condemned team member, but Courtney beat him to it. Harold shrieked and covered his face, but instead of clocking him Courtney grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. Though he had a good few inches of height on her, Courtney yanked him down with enough force that his knees buckled, putting them at eye-level.

Her voice simmered with intensity as she hissed his name. “You have exactly five minutes to get on that boat. Because if I watch what I think is on that tape and you’re still on this island, I promise that you are never. leaving it. Understand?”

“Yes.” He squeaked, eyes nervously flitting between her and the team.

The instant she released her grip he was gone, sprinting for all his worth back to the cabins. Courtney inhaled deeply through her nose, efforts to calm herself ruined by Chris chiding, “Easy, Courtney. Chef’s gonna escort him to make sure he doesn’t hide out anywhere and to make sure no one tries to deal out their own justice, vigilante style.” He chuckled. “Although that would be awesome. ”

For a second Courtney thinks she might actually punch Chris’ lights out, but the host is saved by Bridgette throwing her arms around her teammate. “Oh my gosh, Court! Those were like the worst two minutes of my life.”

Two minutes? Had all of that really just happened in two minutes. Courtney felt like she’d just stepped off a rollercoaster and her stomach was finally catching up with her. When Bridgette released her, she pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead and closed her eyes. There was sound and movement all around her but nothing concretely registered except for the rough, warm pressure of a hand sliding down her spine to rest at her lower back.

“You okay?” Duncan said into her ear, so quiet she wasn’t sure if anyone else heard.

His voice and his hand on her back were the anchors she needed to feel like she was on solid ground again. She dropped her hands from her face and her shoulders fell with them as she surveyed the teens around her. Bridgette was visibly the most affected, hazel eyes wide like Courtney would vanish if she blinked. Geoff and DJ wore similar looks of both sympathy for Courtney and anger for the situation, and Duncan…

Well, Courtney didn’t know what to make of the look he was giving her. It was somehow soft and warm yet still retained its fierceness from before. She wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of his gaze or the crash of adrenaline that made her shiver. “I’m good.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt.

“Man, that is one sick little dude.” DJ groused, crossing his arms over his chest.

Geoff added, “Yeah, Court, that was wickedly messed up. Sorry, brah.”

Courtney shifted her weight just a fraction to press more firmly into Duncan’s hand, forcing a steady exhale from her lungs. “I’m just glad he was dumb enough to make all of the ballots the same.”

“Seriously.” Duncan agreed, pulling her an inch closer.

She turned her head to look up at him, nerves settling enough to crack a smile. “You have any experience with voter fraud?”

“Pfffft, that’s weak shit.” He dismissed, though the corner of his mouth ticked upward.

The vice in her chest eased, and the airiness from before was returning. These were her friends , friends who were angry on her behalf and happy that she was still here. Friends that surrounded her with support but she knew would give her space if she asked for it. That was the last thing she wanted, though, threading her arm across Duncan's back.

“Anyone up for stealing some brownies from the mess hall while Chef’s distracted?” She asked.

Geoff whistled, “Heck yeah!” at the same time Duncan praised, “Atta girl.”

It was DJ who hesitated. “Sure you don’t wanna see the ginger twerp off, Court? I know I’ll be happy to see him go.”

Courtney hummed thoughtfully. “The look on his face would be pretty satisfying.” Her gaze flickered to Duncan’s with a mirrored grin. “If we’re quick we can do both.”

The expression on Duncan's face turned wolfish as he addressed the group. “You heard the lady.” He said and the five of them took off toward the mess hall, Courtney’s heart soaring with every step.

[jukeboxjackal]

toxic nat and reader break up and have so much tension until they hu at a dinner party

hey guys hey guys!! sorry haven’t been here for a while but like i think i decided i’m gonna answer all of my asks (2) and maybe prob start writing again! wooo!!!

okay so first things first

1. i will NOT be doing like a full hu, there will be themes yes but as aforementioned i don’t write smut

2. this is actually a great idea so i’m gonna give y’all a preview bc it’s really late and then i’ll edit and finish later

3. sorry for taking forever twin!!

I know you miss me.

toxic! nat x fem! reader

warnings: toxic behavior, more mentioned in the future. also the usual like cursing yap yap yap

“hey”

you whipped your head around, you recognized that voice. God awful but 𝗵𝗲𝗿 voice will always plague your mind. the woman who you’ve been avoiding all night.

she looked restless, almost like she actually 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 you. ‘ha, fat fucking chance’ you thought. you debated if you actually wanted to talk to her, but she moved closer, so you knew you had to. and with a loud sigh you said:

“hi”

you mentally cursed yourself. ‘that was actually so lame, stand your ground (y/n), damn’. so you spoke again,

“what do you want natasha?” you sighed it out, you don’t even know why you’re talking to her again.

‘she’s not worth it’ ‘she never loved you’ ‘stop trying to convince yourself that she’ll ever change.’

but you know she will, she always does. ‘fuck it not today.’

you tried to turn back around, but she put a hand on your shoulder. you flinched.

“(y/n), i’m serious. don’t fucking walk away from me.” she just whispered out.

you looked back at her, and she looked a cross between pissed and so, so fucking sad.

“hey, this is clint’s party, just let me enjoy myself. i already told you i never wanted to see you again.” and you saw a flash of hurt and anger in her eyes. ‘why the fuck is she the mad one here?’

you both were at clint’s little get together, and you went outside for fresh air, but you guess she followed you out. you were happy, you hadn’t seen the team in a while, natasha always kept you away. and when they asked, you were always “sick” or “on a trip”. but now she was gone, and you finally got back in touch with them, but God, you could never muster up the strength and courage to tell them what had all happened.

natasha scoffed,

“enjoy yourself? or enjoy these other bitches? i’ve been looking at you all night, just to see you with carol, or my friends. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦.” she spat that last part out.

you let out a dry laugh. “oh wow natasha, glad to see you haven’t changed. i have though, and now you can’t control me anymore.” you stared directly at her.

“oh please, you know damn well i didn’t do shit wrong. and you also know that you miss me, huh?” she moved closer to you.

“natasha, what the hell?” you looked around. she put her hand on your face though, softly.

“oh baby, i’m the only one for you.” “what happened was a mistake, but i promise you i have changed.” she whispered to you.

“oh bullshit, nat!” you had tears forming. “you just acted the same literally two seconds ago, stop trying to play me for a fool!” you were very much emotional now.

“and that’s why you still call me nat. you already know how much i appreciate you, and that you just can’t seem to get over me, huh?”

that was true, you hadn’t dated or talked to anyone in 4 months. but maybe that was just how impactful she was on you, that you’d been afraid to love again.

“shut up.”

“so it is true, (y/n) you haven’t changed a bit sweet girl.” natasha caressed your face.

you tried to pull away, but she had you against the wall. you could smell her sweet scent, which did NOT reflect her personality.

“just this once,” she whispered “be mine again?”

you felt too much, you just wanted it to be over.

you closed the distance between you both with a kiss.

———

you woke up in her bed again, but you swear next time will be different.

you know it will be.

when you she was dead asleep, you packed up and left.