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#but damn it’s worth it 😌

meanderfall · 2 months

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Sometimes I'm arrogant enough to think my financial situation isn't too bad and then tax season comes around and I see how much my governments are going to refund me and I'm like oh I'm POOR poor

#i make a post like this every year #and it's because every year im like damn the governments really gonna give me almost a month's worth of wages 😔#sometimes i like to look up the poverty line of where i live and bask in the bleakness of my financial situation 😌

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erzsebetrosztoczy · 2 years

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Dar, negotiating with Rachel: We have your Lieutenant! Give us ten thousand american dollars and he will be returned to you unharmed.

Jason *from a distance; the other side of the phone*: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars?

Dar:

Dar: MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Rachel: JASON STOP

Bonus:

Merwin: Why they can't take him? Rachel. We gonna get rid of him!

Rachel:

Joey: And they do it ✨GraTiS✨

Rachel: Ya know what...on second thought--

#it's okay Jason. you worth every damn penny😌#and they probably gonna get tured of you so the enemy prob just drops him off in the desert #and Rachel hid a tracking chip in his cap like they do with pets because boy always wandered away from base to chase idk tumbleweeds #yes Jason is a master of worsening his situations #the dark pictures anthology: house of ashes #dark pictures house of ashes #the house of ashes #house of ashes #hoa #hoa memes #hoa incorrect quotes #rachel king #dar basri #jason kolchek #nathan merwin #joey gomez

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wortverlust · 2 years

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spencer is so CUTEE!!! i’ve noticed mochi and i haven’t dropped by in a while…

here she is, laying on me and my aot shirt. all her hair was on it after….but….worth it.😪

AAAAH PLEASE!!! MOCHI IS SO ADORABLE!!! THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH FOR DROPPIN' BY!!!

#dbksbsjenabss #please this is so damn CUTE!!!#UwU #I simply LOVE her fur 🖤🖤🖤#and...oh yeah... I brush spencer every day...and he still lose so much hair literally EVERYWHERE #but yes...it is worth it 😌#<333 #loats of love to you both!!!#and a wonderful weekend :3 #also #PLEASE take care <333 #ask.Suki #jo.answers

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lxvvie · 5 months

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Pillow prince!Ghost most definitely needs to become a thing😌

Simon who has moments where he's fucking tired of taking care of others, tired of watching their backs, and for once, he wants to be on the receiving end, wants to be selfish, wants to be taken care of, and what with all the shit he puts up with on a daily basis, he reasons that he fuckin' deserves it.

Simon who finds himself on the receiving end of your kiss. He loves it when you bite his lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. Thank fuck for his mask when he's on assignment; he thinks of you every time he runs his tongue over his lip, feels that slight sting, and the way it makes his cock jump in his jeans, goddamn—

Simon who doesn't give a good goddamn what you do to him. He doesn't wanna think. Doesn't wanna remember shit. Just wants to suck and fuck and taste and cum. Simon who doesn't give a good goddamn what you do to him, just make him feel good, yeah?

Simon who can't help but fucking melt when you press the softest kiss against his bruised skin, just one of many he came home with this time, just one of many reasons why he needs this.

Simon who runs the gamut of sexual frustration, pleasure, and god, just... just—"Fuckin' give it to me, sweetheart. S'yours." Stop fucking playing with him. Take what's yours, goddamnit. Milk his cock for all it's worth. He's not one to beg but for this, he'll swallow his fuckin' pride if it means getting off. But that's what you want, isn't it, luv?

Simon who can't put a word to how he feels, it's so fuckin' good. You feel so fuckin' good. Simon who’s unashamedly encouraging you to do more, to give him more—"Jus' like that, sweetheart. Fuck me jus' like that." Fuck him dumb, baby. Mark him up. Ruin him. Simon's so overstimulated, came so damn much, adrenaline and tiredness rushing, that he lets out the throatiest chuckle.

Simon who, when it's all said and done, is covered in hickeys, sweat, and cum and he's never felt better, and the post-coital cigarette seals the deal. Simon who lets you know it won't be the last fucking time you use his body like this. Fuck, why hadn't he done this sooner?

#2queued4u.#nsfw.#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #x black reader #call of duty x black reader #task force 141 #cod x you #cod x black reader #cod mwii #cod mw3

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

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Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iii TW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing.

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.”

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat.

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.”

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not.

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible.

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows.

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough.

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence.

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: kidnapping #kidnapping #alastor doesnt realize he Feels stuff

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chrisevansonly · 8 months

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𝐄𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

✯social media au

✯charles leclerc x female reader

✯safe to say both you and your boyfriend are enamoured with one another

✯been feeling down recently and wanted to get a little something out…i hope this is okay 🩷

yninstagram

liked by gqeurope, charles_leclerc, lilyhme and 643,000 others

the girls that get it get it, and the ones that don’t? you’re missing out

tagged charles_leclerc

see 87,000 comments

username i love that she shares charles with us😭

>yninstagram sharing is caring😌

username y/n is us…

lilyhme please😭

>yninstagram as if you don’t feel this way about alex 🤔

>lilyhme touché

username YES Y/N GETS IT

charles_leclerc im flattered baby😘

>yninstagram good, you should be🥰

username petition for y/n to start using memes 24/7

arthur_leclerc you are blinded by love you know that? he looks like a thumb

>yninstagram okay which makes you a big toe thur try again

>arthur_leclerc 😑

charles_leclerc

liked by yninstagram, scuderiaferrari, leclerc_pascale and 765,000 others

little pre season ski adventure 😎

see 67,000 comments

username don’t look at me like that charles

>username as IF he’s looking at his girl 💀

liked by charles_leclerc

>username HAHAHAHA HE LIKED😭

yninstagram funny you didn’t credit the photographer

liked by charles_leclerc

yninstagram damn baby you got fine written all over you😍

>charles_leclerc you are crazy you know that?

>yninstagram crazy for you 😍😍😍😍😍

yninstagram wanna get a hot chocolate with me?🤤

username Y/N IS SENDING ME RN

leclerc_pascale be safe you two!!!

liked by charles_leclerc and yninstagram

username i want someone obsessed with me like y/n is obsessed with charles…

scuderiaferrari❤️

charles_leclerc added to their story!

*comments disabled*

yninstagram

liked by charles_leclerc, vogue, francisca.cgomes and 546,000 others

the closest i got to the actual snow, charles can laugh all he wants while i stay warm inside 😁

tagged charles_leclerc

see 56,000 comments

username she is quite literally everything to me

username charles looks so happy 😭

charles_leclerc woooooow

charles_leclerc god

charles_leclerc have my children?❤️❤️

>yninstagram CHARLES😭 (yes…)

>carlossainz55 there it is💀

>leclerc_pascale baby on the way???

>yninstagram non maman!! 😅❤️

username PASCALE😭

username charles is unhinged

>username i would be too if i was with y/n

yninstagram added to their story!

*comments disabled*

charles_leclerc

liked by carla.brocker, yninstagram, joristrouche and 674,000 others

back in monaco with my favourite workout partner❤️

tagged yninstagram

see 67,000 comments

username the prettiest!!!

username i need to know where that set is from!!

>yninstagram lululemon!!🩷

username charles really is lucky asf

yninstagram i love you!!!

yninstagram i don’t love waking up at 6am to work out😃

>charles_leclerc i make it worth your while 😉

>arthur_leclerc BRO😭😭

username i can’t keep defending you charles 💀💀

charles_leclerc added to their story!

*comments disabled*

yninstagram and charles_leclerc

liked by riviayachts, charles_leclerc, voguegermany and 743,000 others

about last night…thank you to the monaco yacht club for having charles and I out for the Ferreti event! the evening was beautiful, we can’t wait to do it again🩵

tagged riviayachts, ferreti group, charles_leclerc

see 78,000 comments

username JAWS WERE DROPPED, THE WORLD STOPPED

username bi panic, bi panic, bi panic!!!!!!!

username oh god oh god 😵‍💫

charles_leclerc you looked beautiful baby❤️

>yninstagram and you looked so handsome 😘

voguegermany😍😍

liked by yninstagram

francisca.cgomes oh wow baby!!!!!

>yninstagram😘😘

username i think i need to restart my brain😃😃

yninstagram

liked by arthur_leclerc, wagsofformula1, charles_leclerc and 457,000 others

then, now and forever. grateful i get to spend each and everyday with you, there is no one better at keeping my heart safe, cherished and loved.

je t’aime tellement mon amour❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

see 56,000 others

username no no no I CANT CRY ANYMORE

username it’s really wholesome seeing how much y/n really loves charles :(

>yninstagram 🥺🥺🥺

leclerc_pascale mes bébé 😘

>yninstagram je t’aime maman!❤️

charles_leclerc i love you, i’ll forever keep your heart safe with me❤️

liked by yninstagram

username someone get me some kleenex and a bucket of bleach🥲🥲

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

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BTS fic recs: December 2023

HAPPY NEW YEARS!! 🥳 May every single one of you lovely people out there have the best and brightest year to come ✨

I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | 💜 (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, personal favorites = 💯.

Namjoon

⭐Good Neighbor @sugaurora [0.7K] // knj x f.reader // neighbors!au, winter!au // 🥰🥰🥰

📝 Namjoon’s solitary tendencies versus the cookies. Spoiler: The cookies win.

🗨️ God, this was so fucking sweet 🥹 like sugary sweet fluffy fantastic! I loved it 💖 the way Namjoon just observes oc, and then helping her in the end 👏🏾 even though this is short, it’s fucking brilliant. The writing is just 😘😘 like I wished there was so much more, but I’m also so pleased with just what is 😌

⭐A Word from our Sponsors 💯 @ugh-yoongi [17.5K] // knj x f.reader // podcast!au, f2l, idiots to lovers // 😂🥵🥰

📝 You’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

🗨️ Okay. This. Was. Exceptional ✨🥹 I am slightly speechless, so this review might be short or long or just a rambling of my dainty thoughts. Here goes: it was amazing, seriously one of the best fics I’ve ever read 😭 everything just had that perfect flow, the writing was incredible, like I can’t even speak? The characters, out of this world fantastic ✨ the whole thing, just, perfect. Perfection. I don’t know what else to call it, sorry. The world building and tension was so fucking delicious I just ate it up! 😭 And their banter and chemistry was just off the charts amazing. Perfection. And it was so fucking hilarious too!! Many times I was just laughing or chuckling, like the lovesick fool I am 😂 it was definitely worth it to stay up late tonight to finish this masterpiece ✨ And them reading the fanfiction 💀 😂 priceless ✨👏🏾

Seokjin

⭐The IKEA Test by @yoon-bug [9.1K] // ksj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰😂

📝 One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

🗨️ Their banter and all the sexual innuendos are damn hilarious! I thoroughly enjoyed this very much 💜

⭐I Don’t Think I’m Okay by @ressjeon [4K] // ksj x f.reader // slice of life, idiots to lovers!au, childhood friends!au // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 With many chances wasted, you couldn’t even resist anymore.

🗨️ A cute little Seokjin fic 🥰

⭐Turn Back Time 💯 by @raplinesmoon [13.3K] // ksj x f.reader // time travel!au // 🥵🥰🌩️😂

📝 After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

🗨️ Seokjin’s childhood/school was just, ugh, I really felt heartache for thirteen year old Seokjin 🥹 So very common as a kid, to wish you’re older – and then it’s just not what he expected at all. I really loved it! There were a few times I was laughing so damn hard, times where I was shedding a few tears as well. Just, incredibly good; very well written, the story was captivating and motivating, just yeah, brilliant. (Sorry, I’m suddenly bad with words). I loved the ‘lessons’ he learned, and then having the luxury (I’m using that word because we don’t have that irl) of going back to his childhood (almost like starting over) and damn it was good 👏💯

Yoongi

⭐Sinful Lust [series; ongoing] 💯 by @oddinary4bts [wordcount loading…] // myg x jjk x f.reader // established relationship, bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi, slice of life // 🥵🌩️

📝In an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating…

🗨️ Holy 😱 😱 😱 this is just completely unadulterated sin 🥵🫣 I can not describe how much I love this fic! It has A LOT of angst and at times it’s just sad reading how each character falls apart 😭 it’s amazing! If you’re into stories that will have you question your own morals and who to root for, this is for you 💖

⭐In Between the Pages of You [series; ongoing] @unique-high [wordcount loading…] // myg x f.reader // s2l // 🥰😂🌩️

📝 Yoongi fell in love with you. A girl he had never even met before. Knew everything that you were made up of within 96 pages of a worn red journal with a nirvana sticker on front, with coffee and tea-stained pages that also smelled of lilacs and summer.

🗨️ I can already tell that this story will be amazing; it’s so sweet, cute and tender. The storyline/idea is really cute and fluffy, like who wouldn’t love that?? 😭 And as someone who wrote countless journals as a teen, this one just hits differently. It’s so cute and the concept is gold 💜 I really, really look forward to reading the next chapters and what Yoongi will uncover of OC through her journal. And if he can return it to her sometime and they meet! 🥹

⭐F*ck Christmas 💯 @sailoryooons [23.4K] // myg x f.reader // f2l // 🥰🥵

📝 Making hating Christmas your entire personality was never the plan. Then again, it seems bad things only ever happen around Christmas - like discovering your fiancé cheating on you, forcing you to move back to your sleepy hometown. But Min Yoongi happens to love Christmas, and if there is one thing your very stubborn childhood crush is going to do, it’s try to reignite your Christmas spirit. Even if he has to force-feed it to you with gingerbread cookies and too-sweet eggnog.

🗨️ Gosh, I remember reading this sometime last year and it was perfection - it still is! ✨ It’s so so so fucking good. If you haven’t read it, please do so 🥹 it’s also one of the best Christmasy fics 💜

Hoseok

⭐Ho Ho Horrible 💯 @ugh-yoongi [5.6K] // jhs x f.reader // e2l, neighbor!au, holiday!au // 🥵🥰😂

📝 (or, the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he's really hot.)

🗨️ No– this was just so freaking cute! 😭 Like fluffy cute and also extremely funny, just what I love. I loved this so much 💜 OC’s friendship with Tae, their banter was 💯 and then with Hobi, just so so good! It was so cute and OC’s internal dialogue is just funny 😂A really cute holiday themed Hoseok fic that I can’t recommend enough!!!! Everything was just great. Had me smiling and giggling a few times – please go read it 🥹💜

⭐Started with a Sparkle, now we’re on Fire @the-boy-meets-evil [6.5K] // jhs x f.reader // f2l // 🥵

📝 You're feeling self conscious about your recent break-up and hoseok is more than happy to teach you a thing or two.

🗨️ Really really good! I really liked it 💜 I really loved how both sweet and demanding Hoseok was, guiding oc through everything.

Jimin

⭐Couchsurfer 💯 @heartbeatan [6K] // pjm x f.reader // s2l // 🥵🥰

📝 This was left intentionally blank 🫥

🗨️ Omg this was so fucking good! 💯 First, really well written and the pacing was lovely, even though it’s short and one night they spend together 🥹 the build up of their tension and their chemistry was off the charts! So impeccably done! Fuck. I loved it ✨ it’s insane how good this story is and Jimin is just so sweet, romantic and nasty 🥵 I can’t tell you how turned on I got by the description of how Jimin handled OC, like damn 🥵 this is so fucking good, please don’t sleep on the this beauty 💖 Normally, I’m not one for one night stands, because I catch feelings for the characters, but this has a lovely ending that I loved - so fucking good!

Lol. Can not stop screaming about this one. Please go read it, fuck. PLEASE 😌 ✨

⭐Paper Hearts @namfinessed [9K] // pjm x f.reader // f2l, college!au // 🥰

📝 hearts fragile like paper, tear it or don’t?

🗨️ I think it is both cute and heartwarming, with their foolishness and stubbornness towards each other. I loved how the fic becomes full circle with the description of love by both Jimin and reader and then again at the end - really, really beautiful! 😍 I really loved this, it was well written, their friendship and love really shined through too! If you haven’t read this one yet, you really should 💜

Taehyung

⭐The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles [series] by @gimmethatagustd [14K] // kth x f.reader // frenemies to lovers // 🥵

📝 You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

🗨️ At first I did not realize that this was a series, therefore I’ve linked to the masterlist, lol. Anyway, this series is just so fucking hot, like WHAT 🥵 There’s a lot of banter and their mutual ‘hatred’ for each other just makes this hit incredible hard. Really amazing ✨

⭐Loverboy 💯 by @kookslastbutton [7.1K] // kth x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don't initiate as much, you haven't worn lingerie yet, and you're still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

🗨️ These coworkers gotta go, okay?! 😠🤣 Planting seeds of doubt in OC’s head, no, no. Tae to the rescue!! He is so sweet in this too, yes a real ‘loverboy’ 😍 Gosh and then best friend Jimin - that was just pure gold, their relationship and how he helps OC 🥹 That is friendship goals!! A sweet, loving and comforting Taehyung fic - I loved it ✨

⭐Hush, yeah? [series; ongoing/hiatus] by @kithtaehyung [wordcount loading…] // kth x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au, music festival!au // 🥵

📝 Who knew an innocent accident could turn things so dirty..

🗨️ Pure gold ✨ — I don’t really have much to say, except GO READ IT.

⭐Under wraps by @jungkxook [15K] // kth x f.reader // e2l, fake dating // 🥵🥰

📝 There’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

🗨️ I just love me some good enemies to lovers AU 🥵 the relationship between OC and tae is really good, I think the tension between them was well built 👏🏾 I loved how their relationship unfolded and grew through their fake dating 🥹 the way OC realized she had feelings for him, but he had showed her before in his subtle moves, how much more he relaxed in her presence. I loved the interaction between oc and tae’s parents too, the way that they could obviously tell that OC was head over heels 😂 ah just, It was really really good! It was funny, it was comforting, and such a lovely read around Christmas! And the smut was sweet and tender (also hot!) 😍 a really great fic that I’ll add to my Christmas re-reads for years to come ✨ I loved it! Please go read it if you haven’t already 🥹

⭐Somebody Else 💯 by @jamaisjoons [4.2K] // kth x f.reader ft. yoongi // established relationship + post break up!au // 🥵🌩️

📝 Yoongi doesn’t want you anymore. but he can’t stand watching you with someone else.

🗨️ Holy s– 🥵 I don’t even know where to begin with this one! It’s really good and the that is mainly from Yoongi’s pov makes it truly special – he is observing them and damn is it hot 🥵 Aish, really good 💯

Jungkook

Nothing this month 😞 — I AM SO SORRY that I haven’t read any with JK this month (though he is featuring in some with the other members). My JK ‘to read’ list is the LONGEST imao 😂 I’ll hopefully do better next month – but you can always check my Jungkook Library 💜

I have spend most of December being on holiday/time off, which gave me a lot of time to write my own stuff, which in the end gave me less time to read 😣 But it’s all good! I loved getting some stories and thoughts out of my head and now there’s space to read and obsess over other’s stories again 😀

Borahae 💜

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onlyseokmins · 21 days

Text

$$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!

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!

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!

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 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m the anon that asked if you’re taking requests for Joel and aaaah I’m so happy you still are! <3 could you pretty please write something where the reader surprises Joel by baking him a little cake or something for his birthday? And he’s so shocked not only by the sweet gesture, but because he knows it was probably a huge hassle to try to gather all the ingredients needed for that in the QZ. So, he pulls her in for a big kiss and is like “you did this for me???” And if you’re comfortable, maybe you could include some smut so Joel can show his appreciation 😌 thank you so much! xx 🥰❤️

AN | Omg, please, this is so sweet!❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re up to something.”

“Shit, fuck, damn it Joel!” you shrieked as he walked into the bedroom and found you on the floor, crouched near the bed. You’d smacked your head on the edge of the nightstand when you’d startled at his sudden intrusion. You hissed as you rubbed at the already sore spot and landed on your butt as you glared at him.

“Baby,” he did his best, although it was still a vain attempt, to hide the bemused expression on his face. He kneeled down next to you, and replaced your hand with his own, making sure there was no visible injury, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you huffed, glaring at him without any bit of malice, “maybe you could announce yourself and not sneak up on me!”

“I wouldn’t have to sneak up if you weren’t being so secretive and clearly hiding something from me,” he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow as you seemed to deflate slightly. He chuckled warmly before reaching over and touching your cheek, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “what are you up to, huh?”

“I’m not up to something,” you insisted….you lied rather. You were absolutely lying to him, but it was for a good reason. You were planning a surprise for his birthday and for once you wanted it to be an actual surprise. So yeah, you were being a little secretive and sneaking around, but it was all in the name of love…and birthdays. He’d see soon enough, and you hoped it would be worth it all, “maybe you’re just getting old and seeing things.”

“Wow,” he sat back on his haunches as you offered him a sweet little smile. Joel was older than you and you enjoyed teasing him about - affectionately of course. Everything and anything related to Joel filled you with affection and fondness, “you’re really hitting all the sore spots today.”

“Ha ha,” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly touching the bump on your head, “you’re hilarious, Miller.”

“Old and hilarious,” he grinned, and you were glad to be sitting because that smile always made you weak in the knees. He had the prettiest smile and it lit up his whole face; you loved making it come out as much as possible, “and you are tenacious and sneaky.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of me,” you refused to look at him as you stood up and stretched, making sure the blanket was hanging down to cover the underside of the bed. You held out your hand to him, helping to gently hoist him to his foot. Not that he needed help, but you liked the idea that he too needed your help at times, “considering there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m not stupid,” he reminded you, hands on his hips as he looked at you, “and I know you’re up to something.”

“Joel-”

“I’ll tell you what,” he insisted softly, “I’ll drop it if you make it worth my while.”

“Bribery,” you mused softly, “that’s what we’re resorting to these days. How very interesting. But, I’ll indulge - what’s your price?”

“My price,” he took a step closer, “is at least one kiss.”

“One kiss,” you raised an eyebrow and he nodded, clearly looking pleased with himself, “seems like a low cost. Cutting yourself short?”

“I said at least one,” he settled his hands on your hips and pulled you flush against his body, “now what do you say?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Miller.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think I’ve got everything now,” your face felt like it was going to break in half from how hard you were smiling. You took the chocolate and tucked it into your bag, keeping it safe and secret until you were ready to use it.

“Holy shit,” Stacy nudged your side gently with her elbow, “I can’t even remember the last time I had a fresh baked…anything.”

“I know,” you sighed softly, “I’ll save you some o-or make a whole other cake. I hope he’ll like it.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” the serious look on her face made you laugh softly, “what person wouldn’t love a freshly baked cake? Hell, at this point even people that don’t like cake or chocolate would be dying to get a piece.”

“Well I guess if it all works out, I’ll open a smuggler’s bakery and keep everyone nice and happy,” you knew that it was unrealistic but sometimes it was nice to keep these sorts of dreams alive. Stacy pressed a kiss to your cheek, happy to hear the joy in your voice.

“You really love him, huh?” she asked as though it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. Your face grew warm as you focused your gaze on your feet. You bit the inside of your cheek before turning back to look at her and nodded slowly, “it’s almost disgusting how sappy the two of you are with each other.”

“I doubt we’re that sappy with each other,” you insisted; you lived in the belief that most people saw you as nothing but a lovesick puppy following Joel around, “it’s probably more like me being a pathetic fool for him.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she insisted firmly, “that man looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in this entire fucked up world.”

“Stace-”

“Don’t argue with me,” her voice was firm but fond, “I would never tell a lie and I’ll absolutely never lie to you.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender before shaking your head in amusement. Before either of you could say anything else, a shadow loomed over you and cut through the sunlight.

You looked up and found Joel standing there with an amused expression on his face. You held up your hand and gave him a meek little wave and a little smile, “hey Joel.”

“Hey baby,” he held out his hand to you, an invitation you always accepted with glee. He pulled you up and into his arms for a warm hug, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “she’s right you know. Don’t argue with her.”

“At least one of you has some sense,” Stacy high fived Joel before taking a few steps back from both you, “would you look at the time! I’ve ugh...gotta go!”

She turned around and took off and you watched her go, shaking your head, “she’s not very subtle, is she?”

“Just about as subtle as you are with whatever you’re hiding,” he’d been trying for almost two weeks now to figure out what your little plan was. You weren’t going to give in - not until the actual day was here. You wanted this to be a real surprise for once. You put your hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.

“Let it go,” you sing-sang at him, “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on this. Don’t you think if there was something going you’d have found out by now?”

“Not necessarily,” he shrugged, running a hand through his dark locks, “you could be in for the long con.”

“Joel,” you moved past him and looked to see if he was going to follow, “let it go. ‘sides you promised that you’d drop it in exchange for a kiss. If I recall correctly, I gave you plenty of those.”

“There’s always room for more of those,” he easily caught up with you and draped his arm around your shoulders, “if you’re willing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shrugged him, “hurry up and maybe you can have some more.”

“Yes ma’am.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d turned on the record player, a gift that Joel had managed to get for you a while back. You loved it a terrible amount; it was something you’d mentioned in passing a few times and he’d made sure to get for you. Now you listened to it whenever you got the chance.

The small apartment, that you’d tried so hard to make feel like a real home, was pristine and smelled like fresh chocolate cake. You were currently perched in front of the oven, looking in every few moments to make sure it wouldn’t burn. You wanted everything to perfect - as perfect as it could all get these days.

It was Joel’s birthday today. It was not the first one you’d spent together, but it was the one in which you were aware that it was his birthday. He’d never told you when it was before, but you’d managed to coax it out of him. It had taken a lot for him to put his guard down around you, but did it over time, slowly and with tons of love. Just like he’d done for you.

But since today was the first real birthday you were celebrating, you wanted to make it a memorable and special day. At one point he’d mentioned that he used to love all things chocolate, including chocolate cake.

And it had been difficult to actually get everything for the cake, weeks of running around and finding the right people for the right things. So yes, Joel had been right on the money that something was going on. Little did he know that it was something just for him.

There were some fresh flowers on the table, ones that you’d grown yourself in one of the community gardens. They were among a few other things you’d set up to make it clear that you were actually celebrating his birthday. Some makeshift decorations livened the place up as well. Maybe it was silly, or cheesy, but you really wanted this day to be everything.

Once the cake was cooled and your frosting was made, you iced the cake, making sure the chocolatey goodness was spread all over the fluffy layers. It had been a long time since you’d baked - given that the opportunities were few and far between - but you were pretty impressed with yourself. It seemed like it would be delicious, and you had been able to make a second cake to share with your friends. It wasn’t much, but it was a treat that people would love.

Your heart started beating wildly when you heard his familiar footsteps in the hallway before he slowly opened the door. Despite the fact that you knew he was coming in, you still flinched when you heard his familiar sigh as he stepped inside.

The smell was the first sign that something was different, the second was the flustered look on your face as you held up your hands and waved them around accompanied with a small, “ta da!”

“What’s all this?” he asked softly, looking around the decorated space before settling his focus back onto you, “baby.”

“Happy birthday, Joel!” you beamed as you bounced over to him and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He hugged you back just as tightly, burrowing his face in your neck, “surprise!”

“You remembered,” he whispered as you pulled back and kissed him softly as you nodded.

“Of course I did,” you grinned, “now that I finally got it out of you, I’m never going to forget! I also happened not to forget that you said that chocolate was your favorite type of cake. So…”

You moved to the side so he could get a proper look at the cake on the counter. His expression softened even further, as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “you made cake.”

“I made cake,” you confirmed, tenderly touching the side of his face. He closed his eyes and preened into your touch before wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, “hopefully it’ll be good. Preemptive apologies if it’s not.”

“I don’t even want to know how you managed to get all of these ingredients,” he should have known that you’d do something like this, “wait a minute…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you put a finger to his lips before he could even say anything else, “you were right this whole time. I have been up to something…and this just happens to be the thing I was up to.”

“I knew you were lying to me,” he chuckled fondly, “I always know when you’re up to something.”

“Well, I hope you’ll accept my sincere apologies and some cake,” you made a small sound of surprise as he wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you onto the table. You made a small sound of content as he stepped between your legs, his large hands cradling your face, “and the flowers. I grew those myself, thank you very much.”

“And they’re beautiful,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “but still not nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Joel,” you put your hands on his shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze, “stop trying to be such a romantic when this day is about you!”

“The two things are not mutually exclusive,” he insisted as you snorted in amusement. He caught your eye for a moment, his big brown eyes soft studying yours intently, “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah,” your heart constricted at the affection he so easily gave to you. Joel was a hard man, and it took a long time for him to be so open and free with how he spoke to you and how he loved you. And you treasured each and every moment of it, “I know. I love you, Joel. Do you want some cake?”

“I want some dessert,” he agreed and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as he looked you over. You felt the warmth spread through your body, felt that familiar tingle start in your core as you bit your lip. Joel was sure that sight would kill him one day, “and then I’ll have some cake too, I think.”

“Joel,” his name sounded more like breathy whisper, “are you sure you don’t just-”

“We’ll have it all,” he promised, “really. I…thank you for this. All of it. It’s more than anything I could have ever dreamed of. Really.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you brushed your lips over his, “I wanted to do it. I loved doing it. I love you.”

“Baby, you’re goin’ to be the death of me,” he groaned softly.

“I certainly hope not,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “bedroom, please. We’re not ruining the table.”

“As you wish,” he smiled before kissing you until you were thoroughly breathless and dizzied.

“Happy birthday, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

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bless-my-demons · 5 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Six

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Smidge of angst, but nothing really heavy tbh

Notes: This chapter is light, buuuut I promise I’ll make it up to y’all in the next chapter👀 Mother Emmett to the rescue😌

Word Count: 1215

Series Masterlist

• March 27th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Jasper

I skipped seventh period just like I skipped lunch, it hasn’t even been a week of space from her and I know I’d crumble under her gaze, her proximity. Whatever modicum of control I maintain is not enough to resist simply gravitating towards her.

Standing at my brother’s Jeep, I watch as my siblings exit the main school building along with the rest of our classmates. Why stay? Why not just run home once I decided to skip the class we share?

I have to see her, just a glance. Her scent has drifted around this fucking building all day and I’m a weak man.

Emmett, Rosalie, Alice, and I hang around our vehicles as Edward walks Isabella, my supernatural ability straining to feel any sliver of her emotions.

C’mon darlin’, I just need to lay my eyes on you for a few seconds.

Last year I would’ve written this desperation off as insanity, but she’s taken over my life and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m ready to give in, but she has to come to me on her own.

Finally, she’s walking at a fast clip, straight for her car across the parking lot with her eyes cast down and unfortunately we are not anywhere near that path.

Confusion, uncertainty, and a small inkling of sadness straightens my spine from where I was leaning against Emmett’s vehicle. A hand on my shoulder stops the half-step I take in her direction and I wheel on the person it’s attached to-

“Stay.” Emmett leaves no room for negotiation as he tosses Alice his keys and walks with a purpose in Y/n’s direction.

Frustration and possessiveness cloud my head, but I watch my girl with rapt attention.

My brother meets her passenger side door as she reaches her driver’s side door, both sliding into their respective seats at the same without a single word exchanged. She hesitates for only a second before cranking the vehicle and driving away. I don’t have to reach out to know there’s tension rolling off of her, it’s in the set of her beautiful mouth and the crinkle of her brow as she passes us on the way out of the parking lot.

Thankfully the parking lot is empty by this point, I’m not sure I could be brought to give a damn as I disappear into the woods to relieve this ache in my chest.

Reader

By the time I reach my house, I’m fuming. Why? I have no fucking idea, but Emmett hasn’t said a word the entire ride home. Maybe I’m on edge because Jasper was at school all day, but managed to avoid every single interaction he could possibly have with me.

I cut the engine and lean back in my seat, staring at the front door as the tension comes to a head.

“You got something to say-”

“Do you?” I turn and cut him off, unable to keep the sass from my tone.

His chuckle grates my nerves, “You’ve been ready to blow up all day, I’m here because I can take it. Talk to me.” The smile is gone in an instant with the last three words and it takes the wind out of my sails.

“I want him, but how do I know it won’t end the same? Nothing has changed-”

“Everything has changed, don’t you get that?” He angles his upper body to stare at me incredulously. “You’re his singer-”

“What if I wasn’t? What if I wasn’t anything special, Emmett? What if I was a normal girl?” The insecurities start to flow and I’m powerless to stop them.

“That only makes your blood irresistible to him,” he shakes his head and settles back into the seat again, “this is a conversation to have with him, Y/n. But just know that wouldn’t change anything.”

“You seem very sure of that, for someone who is not your brother.” My voice is small as rain droplets begin to splatter the windshield in a slow, mismatched pattern.

“He’s been with us for almost 60 years and I’ve never seen him like this, with anyone. You are the one and only exception, Jasper doesn’t let people in like he’s done with you.” Emmett’s golden eyes meet mine and they shine with sincerity, “This situation with you, it’s untreaded territory. Cut him some slack and hear him out, okay?”

“Did he send you to butter me up? Because it’s working.” I fidget with the peeling cuticle on my thumb, the light rain the only ambient sound.

“No, I just know my best friend needed me.”

Reader

I spent all weekend with Quil and it was much needed in order to get back to feeling somewhat normal. Hanging out with him silenced my near-constant thoughts of Jasper and I haven’t had a reprieve from those since the day I met him.

This weekend I realized, I don’t want to do this without him. I can’t do this without him, he’s too well ingrained. I’m his singer, his mate and he’s… he’s the center of my universe, the rhythm that pulses in my veins.

I won’t lie, I know our future is complicated - given our differing mortality, but if I want him, I have to accept that part of him. The dangerous part of him, the side that is driven to kill me on instinct, the side that can’t give me a future beyond a frozen one. I have to love the not-so-glamorous parts of this man too, because love doesn’t get to pick and choose what’s convenient or even comfortable.

Talking to Emmett also made me realize that that doesn’t scare me like it used to. I’ve been to hell - I know what it’s like without him, I know what it’s like to be empty, to lay my heart bare and be left hanging because I wasn’t actually ready to understand him, I was just scared to lose him. Six months ago I wasn’t ready for the ugly side of what it means to be with a vampire, I was naive to think I could ignore it. To think that I could play it safe - that as long as I didn’t put a label on what was transpiring between us, we could stay in this limbo where nothing bad could go wrong.

But then the worst happened and we didn’t have a single chance in hell to survive the aftermath.

I have to talk to him. He has to know how I feel, what I want, what I need. That I need him.

• March 27th, 2006 • Cullen Residence •

Jasper

“Dude, you gotta talk to her.”

Looking up from my most recent sketch, I spy a slightly damp Emmett leaning inside my bedroom door.

“She needs space to figure out-”

“You’ve given her space, times up. Get your girl already.” Slapping the door frame lightly to emphasize his point, he continues down the hallway to his room.

Sliding my sketchbook away on my desk and leaning back in my chair, I huff a breath and stare at the ceiling. Has a week been long enough? I don’t want to rush her in to anything before she’s ready, lord knows I couldn’t handle her rejection if she’s not.

Teaser

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @Geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #female reader insert

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vinelark · 1 month

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hello hi, i had never read anything for timkon before ever in my life until i stumbled across art for bbts that intrigued me and then i promptly read the whole thing in a night (and ruined my sleep schedule). you are a genius and your writing is masterful. take your time with the next update because i know a story like this takes a lot of effort and dedication and it will most certainly be worth a wait <3 but meanwhile, i wanted to ask if you have any timkon fic recs since i am now incredibly invested in these two (when/if you have a spare moment :)

hello! absolutely love to hear this, welcome to timkon 😌🙏

i do have some timkon recs!! here’s a previous list of some of my favs, and i’ll also add a few recent reads on top of that:

🗞️ The Plan by Hayleythewriter

in which conner kent fake-dates superboy, and ends up real-dating tim in the process. like all of @hearteyeshayley’s fics, the plot is snappy and fun with the best kind of mad genius weirdo tim characterization. the timkon dynamic is sweet and hilarious, and i especially love kon’s relationship with the kents here (there’s a line of dialogue from jon that made me laugh out loud at 3am). alsoooo the restaurant scene is, to me, peak timkon. go forth and enjoy the good food here.

💸 call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu (wip)

last month an anon with very good taste recommended another one of this author’s fics to me, and in the process of looking for it i ended up reading this first and it is a delight. in superboy’s early-ish days, tim notices that kon doesn’t have a real support system yet/is still dependent on cadmus for room and board, and tim sets out to fix that in the most convoluted tim way possible. premise is hilarious and so is the fic, and it’s also sweet and emotional and has enough subtle angst to keep me on the hook too. fav line so far: “Tim thinks taking care of someone for the entire rest of their life is perfectly romantic, actually, but fine, he'll buy some damn aquarium tickets and then do the bank fraud.”

🧟 Young Justice: A Little Help From My Friends by Hayleythewriter (wip)

this one is weighted more evenly on the tim & kon & cassie & bart ensemble, and it’s incredibly fun so far. it’s a retake on young justice’s rocky road toward being a functional team—and, more importantly, friends—with some very compelling slow-burn timkon in which kon does not like robin at first (for some understandable reasons from his pov) and tim’s dreams of having instant superhero bffs like nightwing are crashing and burning around him. there are some tim pangs scattered throughout that are 🤌 very much to my taste 🤌 and i adore how messy and real all four characters are in this. (the emoji choice will make sense after reading, i swear.)

#and thank you for your kind words!#asks #fic rec #timkon

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megamindsecretlair · 2 months

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Good day, good day! I've been thinking about this for a while, and now I'm just like, yes, we need it! 😏 Can you pretty please write a follow up to my favorite Franklin Saint fic you wrote recently? A Hold On You. I feel like we need something where either the reader is heavily preggo or already had the baby and like the reader predicted, doesn't like the new body. But our boy Frank comes through with that reassurance he promised. 🙌🏾😌

A/N: Le sigh, I am so, so, so sorry this took forever! I know there's no rush to these things but this has been staring me in the face for sooo long LOL. I hope this was worth the wait!

A Hold On You, Pt. 2

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, Angst, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.

Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. Months into your pregnancy, your previous worries get the better of you. Luckily, Franklin is there to kiss it all away.

Word Count: 3,424k

Part 1

A/N: I keep feeling like Franklin gets pushed by the wayside. It's not intentional, season 6 just really still affects me LOL. But I will get over that! Also trying to clean up some of these requests ya'll got for me. I love ya'll so much! Please, consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I don't tag empty blogs.

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @nerdieforpedro @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @iv0rysoap

You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom. Steam from the shower receded slowly from the mirror, revealing your visage inch by inch. You stared at your body. Well, more importantly, you stared at your tummy.

It was beginning to protrude. Leave it to Franklin to get you pregnant that same night. No sooner had you realized that your period was late than did your sensitive stomach turn on you. Already it was trying to purge the invasion.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. You were truly happy that you were pregnant. You knew no matter what, that Franklin would be a good father. Nothing like his own that he refused to talk about most days. They were at a tentative truce. But it seemed like they were on thin ice and the slightest thing could break it.

You rubbed your belly, planting your hand over your stomach. You could not picture your child. Did that make you a bad mother?

You pursed your lips as you turned from side to side, looking at your naked body from all kinds of different angles. Shouldn’t you have an inkling? An idea? You and Franklin hadn’t decided on names yet. Wasn’t that something you should have by now? Was there a rulebook to this sort of thing?

Tears stung your eyes as you thought over everything that could go wrong. How dangerous Franklin’s life was. His enemies were yours now. Franklin had to look over both of your shoulders to ensure that you were safe enough to walk across the street.

How could you bring someone into this type of life? How could you possibly agree to gamble with your child’s life?

Horrible, ugly shame filled you as the tears flowed more freely. Being pregnant sucked! Your fucking nipples ached all the damn time. You were gassy now, that was fun. And whoever was in there would likely run circles around you because you were starting to get sleepy all the damn time.

You sank to the edge of the bathtub and let the tears fall. That was another fun side effect. You cried at the drop of a hat. You cried because you looked funny, cute, beautiful, or fat. You cried because you wanted cookies n’ cream ice cream but Franklin got you rocky road. You cried because you felt guilty for making him go back to the store to get you what you actually wanted.

These hormonal changes were driving you nuts. What was worse was that Franklin was gone more often than he stayed at home. All you had were nameless bodyguards that stayed outside your place twenty-four seven.

You felt alone.

The tears began in earnest. Big, fat crocodile tears that spilled down your freshly washed cheeks. Droplets landed on your thighs and you rubbed your belly. What did you do?

“Babe?” Franklin called out.

You sniffled and wiped your tears, getting up to close the bathroom door. You ran some water to try and hide your tears. On top of everything that Franklin was dealing with, he did not need to deal with his hormonal, pregnant girlfriend.

Franklin knocked on the door. “Babe? You okay in there?” He asked.

“Fine! Just got out the shower!” You called back. Did your voice wobble? Did you sound like you had been crying?

Franklin twisted the knob and opened the door. You sighed, looking away from him in the mirror. Franklin was immediately by your side, lifting your chin and pulling you close.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He turned off the water in the sink and rubbed your arms.

You hadn’t realized how cold you were sitting in the bathroom. Tears had a way of warming your face and drowning everything else out. Pressure and snot was not a good look on you and it hurt even worse.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you said. You accepted Franklin’s embrace even though you couldn’t get your mouth to move. To tell him what was bothering you. You could have his baby, but you couldn’t tell him what was bothering you?

Franklin pulled back and looked at your face. “Got another craving? I’ll get it, just tell me what it is,” he said.

“I’m so ugly,” you whined. You sounded like such a baby, but it was true. You didn’t recognize your own body. It was a chamber now for your baby. You were doing everything right but it was hard to feel sexy knowing that there was precious life growing inside of you.

It’d likely be even worse after the baby was born. While it ripped everything from you on the way out. And then you’d have to breastfeed it and watch it and worry over it for the rest of your natural born days.

“What? Why would you say that?” He tried to pull you closer but you were fighting him. You needed space, time to think. The damage had already been done but you still had months to get used to this new life. This new adjustment to your routine.

You didn’t regret having his baby. You only regretted that you hadn’t thought it through more fully. Really understood the consequences of opening your legs and letting Franklin have his wicked way with you.

Franklin let you fight him but he was an immovable rock. He planted his feet and stood his ground trying to catch your eyes. You looked everywhere but at him.

“Hey, hey, talk to me. Please? Why would you say that?”

“Because I am. I’m fat and gross,” you pouted.

Franklin sighed. “Naw, baby. You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he said. He kissed your cheeks. You fought him on that too. You felt so horrible. Like a caged animal needing a release. A break. An escape from the torment of your thoughts.

You shook your head and wiped your tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just got the mumps,” you said.

Franklin pressed kisses to your forehead, both of your eyelids, and your lips. He kept kissing your face until you relaxed in his arms. That, at least, hadn’t changed. You felt safe in his arms. Warm.

When your shoulders finally dropped from your ears, Franklin turned you so that you faced the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your tummy, hands flexing over your stomach and linking his fingers together. He was already protecting his baby. The thought brought fresh tears to your eyes. You could fill a pool with how many tears you’ve shed over the past few weeks.

Franklin’s chin dropped to your shoulder and he looked at you in the mirror. He smiled softly. “I wish you could see you as I do. You are nothing but beautiful to me. Strong. Look at this sexy ass body,” he said.

He swayed you from side to side as if dancing to a slow song in his head. You tilted your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you said. You sniffled and tried to lean away to reach for a tissue, but Franklin wasn’t letting you go.

His fingers lightly rubbed your tummy. His rocking was strangely soothing. Melodic even though there was no music to guide you. His eyes never left yours in the mirror.

“So? Don’t make it not true. Didn’t I say that this belly would look sexy getting bigger? And these titties? Shit, you lucky I am suckin’ on them thangs all day long,” he said.

You giggled despite your commitment to stubbornness. Your mouth twitched as you tried to suppress more giggles. He did not need encouragement for his corny ass lines.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you told him.

“I ain’t doin’ shit but making sure my two babies are okay. I ain’t gon’ lie and pretend I know what’s going on. But you gotta talk to me when you feel like this,” he said. “I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” you told him. He shouldn’t. You always had a handle on your emotions. A way of feeling them but not letting them control you. Not by much. It took a long time for you to get here and you’d be damned if you let Mother Nature control you.

“I just get down sometimes, Franklin,” you said.

Franklin nodded and smiled. “ I know. And you shouldn’t have to be down alone. I know this is big. This is big for the both of us. I didn’t think we’d get it on the first try,” he said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes. He was pretty damn proud of that fact. Told anyone who would listen that he was successful the first time. His parents were naturally excited. None more so than Cissy. She was too giddy at the prospect of having a grandchild.

“You are a mess,” you told him.

Franklin’s smile grew bigger, giving you a glimpse of the Franklin you knew before. The one who smiled quicker and didn’t hide behind walls in his mind. Trying to keep everything so close to the vest.

Franklin kissed your shoulder, lips lingering a second too long. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You’re only sexier carrying my baby. These hips? Hmm. Just wanna squeeze the fuck outta them,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your tears dried up as you looked at Franklin. At the raw hunger in his eyes. You may feel ugly, but you were far from it in his eyes.

Franklin moved his hands from your tummy to cup your ass. He jiggled the globes in his hands, grabbing as much of it as he could. “This ass! If you only knew how bricked up I am all day thinking of this ass ridin’ me,” he said.

“Franklin!” You turned around to look him in the eye. His hands stayed on your body as you turned and they landed around your waist. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your belly.

“You have made me the happiest man alive. There is no one else I’d rather share this with,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you, taking his time to explore your mouth. The kiss was slow and lazy. You had all the time in the world to kiss him and he took every last second of it. He’d retreat and return just as quickly as if he were starving for your kisses.

You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and pulled him closer. He rubbed against your belly and you drew back, staring at the damn thing like a traitor. Already getting in the way of your life. Already taking up space.

You sighed. There was just no way to get around this. No way to pull you out of this funk.

Franklin only lifted your chin. He stared into your eyes for a second, a minute, possibly an hour and your bottom lip started to quiver. He only smiled patiently and returned to kissing you.

You sighed into his mouth. Where the hell did you find someone like him? Someone that didn’t balk at your panic attacks? Or these new hormones? He’d seen you during Hell week. This was that but amplified. Your body was foreign to you now. You grew up with this body. You suffered through puberty with this body. You and this body had been down a rocky, twisted, and convoluted path to self-love. And now you were sharing it.

Franklin’s hands kneaded your doughy flesh around your hips, getting softer over time. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, neck, and towards your chest. His lips teased around your sensitive nipple and you hissed, jerking away from him.

“They’re really fuckin’ sensitive right now,” you said.

“Oh really?” He asked. He smiled, holding your gaze as he moved his head once more to lick and suckle around your nipples. Your legs instantly went weak. Your nipples were still fuckin’ sensitive, made worse by his playful teasing, but it also felt too good. His warm mouth felt deliciously painful on your titties and you were sighing and whimpering in the bathroom before long.

Your moans echoed off of the tile in the bathroom. Your soft sighs filled in the empty areas and his suckling grew louder, reaching a crescendo that you matched with cries of pleasure.

“Franklin!” You half-yelled and half-moaned.

Franklin went to your other nipple, giving it as much attention. You hissed. So much for your shower. You were growing wetter by the second from his teasing alone. As if sensing that, like the mu’fucka had a nose for it, his hand glided down your side until his fingers teased your clit.

You jerked in his arms and he hummed in appreciation. “Hmm, so fuckin’ wet already,” he whispered against your chest.

“How can you stand here like a goddess and not expect me to worship at your feet? To appreciate this precious gift you’re giving me? I know I been away, I’ll work on that the deeper we get into this. I want to be here for everything.”

“And I want you to know that I found you sexy when I first met you. I found you sexy when you agreed to be mine. I found you sexy when we found out you were pregnant with my baby. And I find you sexy now. Every day I find more and more things to love about you.”

“Franklin, please,” you sighed. You could not handle him being this damn cute while sucking on your nipples and his fingers playing with your clit.

“Do you believe me?” He asked.

“Huh?” You asked. If he moved his fingers just a little to the side, you could cum. You felt an approaching orgasm. Your knees were turning to jelly. You were so, so close.

“Do you believe that I find you sexy? That I fall more in love with you every day?” He asked.

You nodded. “I know you do, Franklin,” you said. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to keep reminding you. And keep reminding you. And…” Franklin lifted his head from your nipples as he moved his fingers to flick over your clit. You gripped his arms and shook, the bathroom turning hazy as your eyes rolled.

“Fr-F-” You were trying to warn him. To let him know that you were close, but he already knew. He kissed you, tongue licking your lips before you allowed him inside. Allowed your tongues to mesh and play with each other.

He smiled against your lips as you finally cried out, crying out your release. You slumped against him as you finished and he gently continued to play with your clit.

Franklin grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bedroom. You giggled trailing after him. He held your hands while you sat on the bed. You were pleasantly wet, feeling the squishy essence in between your legs.

Franklin wasted no time getting naked. You watched him with a smile dancing on your lips at how beautiful he was. Did he have a clue? Did he come close to understanding what you felt for him?

“You make me so happy, Franklin,” you told him.

Franklin shed the last of his clothes and stepped closer with a big grin. His grin was infectious, causing one to split your face in two. Cheeks aching from the strength of love pouring from your veins.

“You make me happy too, babe. I don’t ever want you to doubt how beautiful you are. If you do, let me know. I’ll sort that shit out,” he said.

You giggled as his lips returned to yours, joining you on the bed. He settled onto his back and then pulled you to straddle his hardening length. You bit your lip, a bit of shyness creeping in. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before. That he hadn’t seen everything about you and kept coming back for seconds.

Things were different now. Everything changed. But Franklin didn’t let you wallow. He encouraged you to sit in his lap.

It took some wiggling and a lot of guidance on his part since you couldn’t see his length past your belly. Once the tip of him grazed your wet entrance, the shyness left your body.

You moaned as you sank onto his dick, gliding down until he was fully seated inside of you. Your hands braced yourself on his chest as you acclimated to his size. He wasn’t huge, but he stretched you plenty.

Your eyes were closed, reorienting yourself with the feel of him inside you. God, you missed this. You had sex in the beginning but your morning sickness was awful. You couldn’t keep shit down. Everything smelled and crackers tasted like cardboard.

You sighed as Franklin rubbed your hips and your back. “Feel good, baby?” Franklin asked.

“Yes, baby,” you moaned.

“You look good, baby,” he said. You looked down in time to see his gorgeous smile. Franklin was playing with the idea of a beard. It was coming in nicely. Framing his face and making him look older and wiser. Sexier. Like a dad already. A dad you’d like to fuck.

You smiled at your own little joke. “Thank you, Daddy,” you said.

“Go on and get yours then,” he said. He smacked your ass with his hand, leaving a ghost-hot sting behind that made you hiss and look at him with mischief. If he wanted to play…

You slowly grinded on his dick, rolling your hips back and forth. Franklin licked his lips and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked down to where you were joined.

You continued the slow roll, getting him used to that before you started bouncing in earnest. “OH shit,” he moaned.

You grinned and kept bouncing, up and down on the entire length of his dick. He hissed and rolled his hips in tune with yours until you were matching each other perfectly. In sync as only you two could be.

His hands gripped your hips. You didn’t know if you were bouncing on him now or if he was pulling you down on his dick. Either way, you were both speed-running towards that beautiful peak. Hand in hand, racing forward faster and further until you were both screaming out an orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted.

“Shit, oh fuck,” Franklin roared.

Sweat rolled down your back. You leaned forward so you could kiss Franklin. Your kisses were sloppy, jerky, as you rode out your orgasm. Some unknown force took over, unable to help yourself from continuing even though you were too over the moon. Too far gone.

Maybe this was what he felt like when he kept going even after you came. That driving need to stay connected, stay buried in each other. Your hips kept rolling until you were too weak and spent to keep going. Your legs finally giving out as you collapsed on top of him.

Franklin groaned and rolled you over until you were beneath him now. He slipped out and you licked your dry lips, turning your head to the side. You did not want to stop, but you were out of breath. In danger of passing out altogether.

You never experienced a mutual orgasm before. It was usually one after the other. Like a gentleman, Franklin always made sure you came first. Sometimes multiple times before he allowed himself to climax.

Franklin gave your tummy multiple kisses. Every inch of skin was covered with his lips. He laid prayer after prayer into your skin.

For the first time all day, you felt beautiful. You felt loved. You felt like the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

“I love you, Noodle,” he said, calling your baby by the nickname you agreed on. You didn’t know why, it just felt like a Noodle, nestled in there.

Your heart swelled, seeing his face as he continued to kiss your stomach. You rubbed his head as he continued talking to Noodle telling it how he was going to protect it, love it, cherish it, and that it had the best mom on the planet.

Tears prickled your eyes for entirely different reasons and you tried to blink them away but couldn’t. Franklin kissed up your stomach and couldn’t resist a final lick and tug on your overly sensitive nipples.

When he reached your mouth, he smiled and kissed you. He sighed into your mouth. “I love you, baby,” he said.

“I love you even more, Franklin.”

THE END

The Secret Franklin Saint Files | Part 1

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

shut up & listen—Eddie Munson x f!reader**

summary: weeks worth of tension, accumulated throughout your blossoming romance with Eddie, finally blow up one evening.

word count: 2.4k

WARNINGS: friends to lovers, piv (safe), cunnilingus, fingering, slight male masturbation, Eddie likes to tease you. song inspo.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

A/N: well, you asked, and you shall receive! this is part 2 of Tongue twister, but it can be read as a standalone as well. thank you so much for all the love you’ve shown the first part, it’s insane! hope you enjoy this one as well 😌

gif: @nowadayz

Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover what goes through your body right now.

Though unspoken, the tension burning in between you and Eddie had been raised to a boiling point tonight. The date had been utterly beautiful: you spent the whole afternoon at a carnival, playing all those silly games that you can never win at—and yet somehow he managed to win you a stuffed bear— eating corndogs and laughing at all the cheesy couples over there. You didn’t say a damn word about you low-key wanting that same thing with Eddie.

But neither did he.

It’s not like he wants to keep things from you. Not even in the slightest. He’s simply afraid to come on too strong and screw things up with you. There are plenty of things swirling inside his head, some real and serious, and others less than decent.

He doesn’t tell you that his mouth nearly waters every time he sees you, or smells you. He doesn’t tell you that he wants to take the hand that holds yours and bury it in between your legs in hopes of releasing the sweetest, sheet-clutching moans he could think of.

Not yet.

Truth is, he’s not sure how much more of this inner torment he can handle. He would never do anything out of pocket, anything that might hurt you in any way and he’s glad neither of you rushed into anything physical. But Jesus Christ, each time he saw you, he reminisced of that night when you talked about your feelings and made out as you straddled his lap, and he could get hard on command.

And tonight is no exception. You’re wearing a cute skirt and a relatively tight top, and he’s doing his very best to be the perfect gentleman and leave his own little fantasies abandoned in some corner of his mind. He drives you home in that rusty truck that belonged to Wayne, and electricity prickles your skin. You steal side glances at Eddie handling the steering wheel with one hand and you gulp, feeling heat travel all the way to your nether region, and you try to shake off the near loud gasp you let out.

When you arrive, Eddie takes a big, deep breath and looks at you.

“Here we are,” he says with a wicked smile.

“I’d invite you in, but then I’d have to introduce you to my family as my boyfriend and I feel like neither of us is ready for that.”

“Yeah, let’s not put ourselves through that just yet.”

You both giggle, and you clutch tighter onto the teddy bear as you glare lovingly at him.

“It’s still pretty early,” you say. “We could… do something else.”

“Yeah? What you have in mind?”

The simple way he says that, so smooth and yet so intrigued already, lets you know he’s up to no good. One might argue that neither are you.

“Maybe a nightcap in your trailer… some music… and then—“

Your voice dies down as desire takes over, but luckily, Eddie can pretty much tell where all this is headed. He smiles reassuringly, taking your hand in his.

“Sounds amazing,” he says.

You smile brightly. “I’d still need to be home before midnight.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do you, and then make sure you get home safe.”

This time you laugh wholeheartedly, stroking his hand.

“You’re terrible,” you tell him.

“So I’ve been told.”

Oh, but he’s a sucker for you. He’s simply incapable of doing anything less than pleasing you—however that may be. Though right now, that desire to please manifests itself in an almost cruel form. It feels downright painful to spend any more time away from you.

So he drives back to the trailer park, truck now resting in front of his home. His heart lies in his throat still, but the more he glances over at you, the more relaxed and ready he feels.

“Alright,” he announces. “Home sweet home!”

You don’t say anything; you enter the trailer first as he holds the door open for you, and you look around, thinking of all the nights you’ve spent there, getting high and listening to Eddie play his guitar. You can’t help but think tonight will be much different memory to behold once it’ll be done with.

“So, what’s your poison of choice?” he asks you.

You’re not really there, in all honesty. You can’t stop staring at every feature visible on him, eyes landing inevitably on his plush lips as you bite on your own.

“You,” you boldly answer.

That earns a naughty chuckle from Eddie’s side. He inches closer to you, hand trailing down your arm and landing on your hips, pulling you in. Then, he takes another deep breath, eyeing you up and down.

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t know half the things I have on my mind right about now,” he mutters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The things I wanna do…”

“Instead of talking, why don’t you show your work?”

Playfulness sips through your smooth voice, and it gets Eddie’s motor running.

“I sure will, don’t you worry about that,” he smiles and kisses you.

His mouth practically devours yours and his body grinds into yours. Your hands cup his face, a few locks of his curly hair entangled in between your fingers and you chuckle into the kiss. The sound reverberates throughout his whole body, setting it afire at the same time.

Music is long forgotten, and so is the teddy bear Eddie won for you that evening; there are nothing but your breaths to fill the room, the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric, the warm bodies beneath them longing to be discovered by the other.

Every nerve in your body simply boils alive when the kiss deepens, getting sloppier with each passing second. Your body bounces against the mattress, with Eddie’s atop of you. His lips pepper the same sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck, stopping only to steal another glance at you. A smile erupts from the corners of his lips, one of those wicked ones that you simply could never get enough of.

“You’re the prettiest girl in this godforsaken town,” he says, leaning over to undress you.

“And you’re a pretty good liar.”

He tsks, and you giggle. “You’re so pretty, too.”

He lifts his head again from in between your breasts.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, astounded by your confession.

“Yes.”

You both smile as your hands run eager on each other’s bodies, removing the fabrics standing in the way of utter pleasure. There’s a brief pause in between ministrations, Eddie’s eyes gone dark by now, driven with lust. Then, his hands part your legs, causing you to tremble with excitement. You gasp, already in a spiral of frenzy, but when he buries his head there and you feel his tongue circle around your clit, you moan out loud.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie smiles. He’s long craved to taste you in the most intimate way he knew of, and now, he’s like a kid loose in the candy store. He needs to scoop up every ounce of sweet arousal he can get out of you, like he can’t breathe otherwise.

You moan brokenly, on a loop, and he coos you gently. To no avail, though; you can’t stop the sounds emerging from your throat for the life of you. Especially not when Eddie adds a finger to his filthy torment. It nearly causes you to black out, this combination of his tongue’s slurping sounds on your clit and his index pumping in and out of you.

“Eddie—oh God—“

He hums something against your folds, God knows what, but you don’t really care. You start to feel the impending buildup in your belly, threatening to burst at any given point, yet Eddie doesn’t stop. Not even when you grab a handful of his thick locks of hair, pulling him in as much as you can. He eats you out relentlessly, hungrily, the main cause of the obscenely glib sounds from your cunt.

You grunt, almost on the verge of tears at how intensely you can feel every flick of his tongue. It’s only now that Eddie stops. You see him fleetingly licking his lips and staring at you with those big, dark eyes, looking you over in the most hungry, yet oddly appreciative way.

“Shit, you taste so good,” he smirks.

“Why did you stop?” you complain.

Eddie cocks his head to the right, his hands reaching to unzip his jeans and strip out of his clothes. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for even a second, as if he fears he might lose you completely.

He could never, though.

“Because I wanna feel you when I make you come,” he replies.

No argument there, you think.

You swallow harshly around the knot in your throat as Eddie stands before you, finally naked, carefully yet somehow eagerly at the same time taking out a condom to place on his erection. You watch intently, and he catches your eyes just as he strokes himself twice. A smile breaks from his mouth, repeating the motions as he inches closer to you, holding back his own grunts.

“You like watching me do this?” he cheekily asks.

You nod, speechless from the previous overstimulation. You’re watching him jerk off with slow, precise motions, stuck in a trance as you feel yourself get even wetter—if possible. It felt like he was drinking straight from you mere seconds ago, soaking up every ounce of arousal you got for him, and now you’re all wet again.

“You like seeing how hard you make me, huh, sweetheart?”

You could easily cry out from the overstimulation and the anticipation, so you cup his cheeks and pull him down, one leg curled around his waist. Eddie nearly goes ballistic for that particular move: he groans in your mouth, so hard by this point that it hurts to even touch himself. He does it anyway, merely to guide himself to your opening.

You moan in tandem at that first push of his cock through your walls; the rush you both get is simply electric, delicious in its minimalism and almost enough to tip you over the edge. Almost.

Eddie could’ve came right then and there, just sheathed around your warm, tight walls. He takes a breather, locks of curly hair covering his face, but you reach to kiss him again, thus encouraging him to move.

“Fucking hell,” he cusses under his breath. “Fucking hell, you—you’re so warm and—and so—“

“You’re so fucking pretty, Eddie Munson,” you whisper, all in one breath.

He smiles so widely your heart could stop, and he starts to roll his hips against yours. You reward him with moans and breathless encouragements that you know he needs, nay, craves. You know he’s weak for any saccharine words from your side, so you give him—and yourself—exactly what you want.

“You’re the pretty one,” he retorts.

You smile as well, body rocked under the weight of Eddie’s. His pace is slightly disordered, curtesy of your leg curled around his waist to allow him to reach deeper inside you. Your cunt aches for more of him—though you’re aware that that’s physically impossible—even as his thrusts are faster and a little rougher, too. The movements are bred out of pure love and trust, but mostly, an ardent desire to simply have each other.

“Shhh,” he shushes you again, though neither of you has spoken for a while. “Do you hear that?”

You only hear your and his erratic breaths, alongside the hot, squelching sounds emerging from in between your legs. You moan brokenly again, the concoction of sounds creating another pleasure wave that hits your body unexpectedly.

“So wet, baby,” he chuckles—deep, nearly manic and even cocky—and gives you a particularly deep thrust.

“For you,” you coo. “Always—just you.”

“Good.”

There’s jealousy nested inside of Eddie as well. Who would’ve thought?

Maybe he didn’t have a proper reason to be jealous until you entered his life.

You dig your fingernails into the flesh of his arms, and Eddie pushes forward and backward, on and on till he feels that familiar burn in his belly, the one he’s been longing for so long.

But he decides to hold back as much as he can. He needs to feel you come first. He just needs to feel that tightness pulsating around his cock before anything else.

“Eddie—ohhh—Eddie, please, pleasepleaseplease—“

“Please what, sweetheart? Hm? What do you want?”

“Shit, I just—“

“I got you—I got you, c’mon—be a good girl and come for me, hm?”

He’s losing his breath and nearly his consciousness too, but he powers through, struggling to ignore how badly he needs to come. He can tell you’re close, just as he thrusts faster, reaching some hidden spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

The sweet release builds in your belly, then it’s detonated in your cunt as you finally come with a loud moan and the shout of his name staining your lips. The tight feeling of your fluttering walls around him is too much to handle—Eddie comes almost simultaneously with you. His whole body seizes up, and he allows himself to be wrapped in the intoxicating sweetness of you and the pleasure you inevitably bring to him.

You feel like he leaves your heat far too soon, though in reality it must’ve only been like a few seconds. You make a sound to let your complaint be known while Eddie disposes of the condom and chuckles mischievously in your direction. Then he crawls back in bed with you, and you hold your breath. It suddenly hits you: this is the most intimate you’ve ever seen him, and he looks so damn beautiful with his lit up face, completely spent and fucked out. He’s simply mesmerizing.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

You bite down on your tongue to prevent the words that threaten to leave your mouth so unprompted, it scares even you. Then you shake your head, thus prompting him to not ask any further questions.

He only stares at you, a goofy smile on his face. He says your name, and your heart skips a beat.

“I am… stupidly in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we met.”

Your heart stops altogether. Your chest feels tight with plenty of emotions that you try to prevent from blasting all at once.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask instead.

Eddie shrugs. “I may not be the bravest guy on earth. Call me a coward if you must.”

“I would never.”

You chuckle as he pecks your lips, nose and forehead, and you cuddle at his chest. Eddie smiles; he knows you love him, too.

tags:

@dumplinshee @spitfire4life @mfoxbaby @melaniehere91 @poppadomps @fckyeahlames @samunson83 @specialsnowflake-gabbi @maddyloveswanda @quicksilversleatherjacket @dotslabyrinth @ooo-protean-ooo @hellfiressweetheart @kittsu-makes-glass @eloisegrant @deez0ballsacks @ainsley-official

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut

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devildomditzy · 1 year

Text

Happy (late) Valentine’s Day! 💌

I will be your little messenger of a dose of Mammon x MC content 😌 Based on your votes from the valentine’s day poll 💘

🚨🚨This should be fixed now! God that was more stressful then it needed to be. Tungle dot com is a broken site.

Part one of two 💛💐🐏

Triggers/Warnings/Content Tags: Fem reader, Smut lies ahead (mainly in part two lol gotta keep you on your toes), dom-ish Mams, a little ooc

This work is +18 plus! Minors, shoo!

——————————————————————————

He wanted to be romantic.

He really did.

He had done everything right tonight. He had planned for weeks, saving up from his modeling gigs and occasional side jobs just for you. He laid (some form of demonic, yet perfectly safe once pulled apart) flower petals in a trail leading you into his room and up the stairs to his car where he was waiting for you, presents in hand.

Bouquets, chocolates, those little weird jelly filled sweets you loved so much for some damn reason that he thinks are disgusting.

A box that contained a shining gold necklace with his initial on it which he delicately clipped around your neck. A stunning outfit to wear to your dinner reservations tonight.

He took your hand and walked you to the passenger side door, opening it and helping you in, careful to not mess up your perfect hair which he had asked Asmo to do as a distraction while he got everything ready for you.

He thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even on your bad days. But, Diavolo help him there was just something about you getting all dolled up for him that made his greed roar to life inside his chest.

He’d opened your door when you both arrived, walked you in on his arm, pulled your chair out for you, you know- all that chivalrous bullshit Lucifer instilled into him, but you seemed to like it so it was worth it.

He really wanted to be romantic.

There was just one oversight he hadn’t quite thought out.

Eyes. Everyone’s in fact, glued to you from the moment you walked in. And while normally he loved to show off his various valuables and treasures, he’s torn between letting you experience the evening he had planned out for the both of you, or picking you up right now and hightailing it out of here to somewhere more private, just so he’s the only one who can see you looking like this.

The waiter catches him off guard as he’s lost in thought, and he quickly agrees with whatever demonus recommendation he made to get him to scurry away. You shoot him a worried glance, and he almost feels bad for letting his mind wander away from this moment. Almost.

You reach a tentative hand out to lay atop his that nervously drummed against the table. “Mams, everything okay?”, you question.

“Hmm? Yeah, fine. Just peachy.”

He doesn’t mean to be short with you, and he knows you can see through any facade he attempts to throw up, but you seem to let him get away with this one, making a small “hmm” at him and looking back towards the menu.

How could he think about eating at a time like this? The only thing he wants to do is rip the throats of everyone in here who dared to even look at you-

“Have you been here before? What’s good? Or you know, what’s something I’ll find at least half edible?”, you giggle at him, flashing your bright, beautiful smile. The one that makes his head spin and his thoughts run blank. You really outta cut that out, ya know.

You let him order for you, and he orders the same, too lost in his thoughts to care about dinner. He couldn’t care, not when he’s busy catching the eyes of every asshole that was gawking at you, meeting their stares with a steely glare that looks if to say “don’t even dare”.

The night goes on without a hitch, and he finds himself easing back into conversations with you, simmering down from his jealous height with the help of your calming presence. He didn’t wanna ruin tonight for you after all- This was all about having fun and relaxing, getting away from the others so he can let loose with his emotions a bit, let you know how he really feels.

He’s actually gotten so relaxed he’s smiling, laughing even! What was he so worried about to begin with? Even if every damn demon in the devildom tried to get at you, they’d fail! Why? Because he’s your first man! Your protector! He’s The Great Mammon! Of course you’re head over heels for him-

His thoughts get cut off when the waiter comes back to the table, handing you a small piece of paper.

“Oi! Why’d ya give the lady the bill. Of course I’m payin’ for our date!”

But when he looks down, his eyes are not met with a bill. They’re met with a note with crudely drawn numbers on it. Ten of them to be exact.

“Wha-Are you serious right now!”, he all but yells, rising to his feet and slamming his hands on the table.

“It’s valentine’s day! We’re clearly on a date! And you’re trying to give her your number?”

The waiter takes a step back, clearly a bit shook by your demon’s demeanor. In a small voice they plead, “I-I didn’t know. I just thought-”

“No no no ya didn’t think anything! Do you even know who I am? And yer bold enough to try a stunt like that!?”

You clearly see the situation tumbling out of control, now noticing the eyes that have been on you all evening, but now they’re trained on your loud mouthed boyfriend. You once again reach a hand out to grab his. “Mammon, cmon now, people are staring”.

That one struck a nerve.

And he really wanted to be romantic tonight too.

He takes a deep breath while his hands ball into fists. You’re racking your brain trying to figure out what he could possibly be upset about as his aura changes, onyx horns spiraling out and leathery wings unfurling out to their full span. Gone are his nice dress clothes, replaced with his cropped jacket getup you were all too familiar with.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze is no longer on the startled waiter, but instead on you. “That’s the problem! Don’t ya get it!? People have been staring at ya all night! Hell- The whole damn Devildom’s been staring at ya all night! It’s like I’m not even here! It’s like they don’t even care that yer taken! They’re looking at ya like they wanna take a bite outta ya!”

You blush furiously at his statement, wondering how you could overlook such a big detail. Had people really been staring at you? Was the waiter not the only one?”

“Mammon…”

“Cmon, we’re leavin,” he spits, grabbing your hand and pulling you up from your seat and towards the door.

The nervous waiter calls out to him, “B-but what about your bill?”

Mammon huffs and turns back around slowly. “Put it on my tab”, he grits through his teeth.

He walks about another three feet before raising a hand up in the air. “Actually…my brother’s tab.”

Mammon’s still Mammon, even if he’s frustrated.

With that, he pulls you out of the restaurant and towards his car.

The car ride home is silent, albeit the low hum of the radio and Mammon’s heavy breathing. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles have gone white.

“Mammon…is everything alright?”, you ask for the second time tonight.

Only now, his emotions seem to peek through.

“Gah- I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s j-just. Do you see the way everyone looks at you? An I mean of course they’re lookin’! Ya look so damn good! But when it happens sometimes I just- It’s like-”

You reach out and touch his arm, encouraging him to continue. With the gesture, he turns and looks over at you, face softening.

“It’s like, I wanna be the only one to look at you, ya know? I wanna be the only one who gets to see ya all dressed up. If I could keep ya all to myself, I would in a heartbeat. A-An I know it’s greedy and it’s not okay but I can’t help it-”

“Mams”, you cut him off. “I understand.”

“Ya what?”

“I said, I understand. You don’t think you’re the only one who gets that way, do you? I mean, you’re a literally model! You look good 24/7! And you get printed in all those magazines and posted everywhere and tons of people fawn over you. But, sometimes, I want to be the only one who gets to see you look like that. I want to be the only one that makes you smile, I want to be the only one you share your time with. I get greedy too.”

You continue on, flashing him that smile that drives him crazy.

“It’s okay to be greedy sometimes.”

You watch his eyes grow at your sentiment, never once stopping to think you’d feel the same way. Seemingly stuck in a surprised stupor, you take his free hand, dragging it over and placing it on your thigh. You revel in the way his breath hitches.

“W-whadda ya think yer doin’?”

“Letting you be greedy”, you respond, moving his hand slightly higher. His gaze stares down at where your skin meets.

“I-I dunno if I can hold back if I do…”, he trails off, a look of worry on his face, but a tinge of something else in his eyes.

“Don’t want you to. Want you to have your way with me.”

You don’t miss how his grip minisculy tightens around you, nails digging in.

“But, you have to wait till we get home”, you tease. You’re met with a frustrated growl as he retracts his hand, returning it to its place on the wheel.

“Fine, ya little succubus. But as soon as we get home, you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As soon as his car comes to halt inside the makeshift garage in his room, Mammon clambers out of the drivers side, taking long strides to beat you at opening your door.

A gentle hand reaches out to help you step out of the car.

And as soon as you do, you’re slammed up against it.

Heavy hands find your waist, gripping it firmly and tight but still like you are the most fragile porcelain doll, made entirely of glass.

His lips quickly find your neck, instantly latching onto your pulse point without giving you a second to think.

“Wow, really n-not holding back are you?”, you question at his ferocity.

He breaks contact with your shoulder that he was busy biting down onto to look into your eyes. “Oi, remember who started this, huh?”, he says, surprisingly low.

“If I remember it correctly, it was you in that restaurant with your tantrum”, you chide.

He brings himself within a hair’s width of your lips. “An if I remember correctly, you gave me permission to be as greedy as I want with ya.”

You can’t deny the pit of desire that starts to bubble in your stomach. It was always exciting to see him be riled up, not bothering to hold back behind his tsundere tendencies.

“Honestly, do ya really know what yer doin to me in that little outfit? Wearin’ my initial on yer neck?”, he groans, bringing a hand up to play with the gold chain lying on your chest.

“Mammon, you picked all this out”, you laugh.

“I know, I’ve got great taste don’t I?”, he shoots you his signature smirk that appears anytime he’s feeling cocky before closing the gap between your lips.

Your lips mold perfectly with his, as you try to keep in rhythm with him, but his pace is quick and almost aggressive as he forces your mouth open with his tongue, slipping it in with a messy clack of teeth and saliva. Knowing fighting for dominance would be futile, you allow him to take the lead.

Feeding straight into his ego, you moan into the kiss, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. You feel the edges of his mouth upturn as he smiles into it. Purposefully now, you continue to make these little noises, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

He pulls away once more to look down upon you, eyes half lidded and voice mocking. “Ha, do you hear yourself right now? So damn needy for The Great Mammon.”

Exactly the response you wanted to hear, you continue to stoke the fire you’re lighting underneath him. “Mhm, only for you, Mammon. My first man, my only man.”

This seems to do something to him, as he grunts and shoots his hands down to your thighs, gripping tightly to lift you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

As soon as he’s got you in his grasp, he continues his assault on your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, but not hard enough to break skin. Once again, a being with such power treating you like glass.

He pulls away once he’s satisfied, a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck. The dark look in his eyes makes your head spin. He seems to feel your eyes on him, shooting his own up to hold your gaze while trying to catch his breath.

“Ha”, he breathes out, “That’s better. Now everyone can see who ya belong to.”

"Hmm, I don't know. I think I need a little more convincing", you purr, grinding your hips against his so your core met with the protrusion now growing in his jeans.

"Fuck, ya really know how to get me goin'. Ya sure you're prepared for the consequences? ".

#obey me #mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon smut #obey me smut #om smut #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om mammon #omswd mammon #omswd x reader

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sluttygallavich · 3 months

Note

Ian and Mickey looking into each others eyes while Mickeys slapping Ian’s cock on his tongue and sucking the life out of him 😝😌😍

Mickey hears all the Lady Gaga queers collectively gasp when he pulls Ian’s half-hard length from his jeans. He’s not surprised. The two of them were still watching from the sidelines when the others started throwing their clothes around, and, frankly, Mickey didn’t see anything to write home about. Nothing like his husband’s gorgeous pink cock—nine inches, cut, and curved just so to get Mickey seeing stars on every thrust.

He feels more than he sees the others stopping to watch on appreciatively as Mickey gives Ian a few leisurely pumps to plump him up to full hardness before dropping to his knees at Ian’s feet. He tugs Ian’s jeans down and helps him step out of them, Ian taking himself in hand to continue stroking himself slowly, the slit of his cock already beading with pre-cum.

Mickey runs tattooed fingers up the back of Ian’s thighs and settles his hands on Ian’s ass, squeezing possessively. He looks up to Ian’s face and his heart gives a violent kick when he finds Ian’s hooded eyes already trained on him. Fuck. They haven’t really discussed this. What they want to do, what they’re comfortable with. Not the way they probably should have. But with their eyes locked on each other now, Mickey just knows. He belongs to Ian, and Ian to him. Signed, witnessed, and notarized, bitch.

Mickey’s never been too keen on sharing what’s his—probably something to do with growing up dirt poor and having to fight for every last scrap—and he’s sure as hell not about to start now, not when he’s finally got the one fucking thing in his life that’s ever been worth a damn. Worth everything.

Ian uses his free hand to run his fingers gently through Mickey’s hair before gripping on tight, and looking into his blazing eyes, Mickey just knows. Same page.

Keeping his eyes locked on Ian’s, Mickey opens his mouth and presents his tongue. Something inside him has settled in Ian’s gaze and now all he wants is to have Ian inside him. To taste him. To claim him and be claimed.

Ian groans as he slaps his heavy cock on Mickey’s outstretched tongue once, twice, three times before Mickey closes his lips around the tip so he can get a taste. Ian pulls back out and uses the dripping head to smear his pre-cum around Mickey’s lips before tugging on Mickey’s hair and issuing a single command.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

Mickey nods wordlessly and lets his mouth fall back open, tongue out and greedy as he waits for Ian to start slowly feeding him his length. Everything around them sort of whites out then—the strings of bright patio lights, the grating pop music, the heat of other men’s eyes.

Let these fuckers look all they want. Mickey even kind of loves the idea, if he’s being honest. Let them see how good they are together. How good they have it. Let them turn green with envy when Mickey takes all of Ian down this throat, eyes watering but still locked with Ian’s, and starts to suck the life out of him.

But let no one dare touch Mickey Milkovich’s husband. Not unless they want to lose a fucking limb.

#first time answering a prompt #how'd i do?#gallavich smut #orgy? what orgy?#possessive little shits #husband era #s11e07 scene filler kinda #gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #fanfic

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