#among other things 😌

[aleksanderscult]

Hi there!

First I want to say I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH. <33 anyways. what do you think Aleksander would do for Alina in valentines day?

Anon, thank you so SO much!! 🫶🥹

(No 'cause actually that comment came in the right time because lately I've been debating either having a break or leaving for good😭)

I think I'll disappoint you but I don't think he would anything for her that day 😔

Aleksander is a sarcastic, pragmatic person. He would find that celebration foolish and childish. "People have a day in which they celebrate love with each other? Saints, I can't with their sentimentality.😒". He would just treat it like any other day (kinda mood).

#but because I don't want to disappoint you! I'll tell you that my headcanon for his love language is physical touch #among other things 😌 #the darkling #anon asks #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #darklina #alina starkov #pro darklina #alarkling #pro alarkling #shadow and bone #grishaverse

[blujayonthewing]

weird to be a person with anxiety and also, separately, a person with a lifelong fascination with wilderness survival

I feel like people catch wind of my desire to have, like, a backcountry water filter or multiple firemaking methods with me for car camping or day-hiking or whatever else and think I'm catastrophizing and overpreparing because of The Neuroses but I can't emphasize enough that I don't actually have any fears about The Shit Hitting The Fan or whatever preppers are on about, I just really really really like the idea of drinking out of a river or building a little fire

#one time my friend was regaling us with the absolute fucking shitshow of the outdoor music festival she had just SURVIVED #and how among other things people were getting sick because the sanitation situation was Dire and the water was contaminated #and I made some side comment to justin about my backcountry filter #and she was like-- very seriously and emphatically-- 'no it wouldn't have been like this if it wasn't so mismanaged' #and like-- I'm not gonna derail your story to talk about this instead but yeah dude I know #tbh it would never in a million years have occurred to me that a music fest might be a fucking cholera risk #my anxiety is different flavored than that #I just would have been really excited in the same situation to be unaffected because of My Proclivities lmao #everyone around MY little campsite has safe and fresh water because I am a little weirdo 😌 #not 'better bring these things... might have to use them 😰' but 'better bring these things... might have to use them 👀' #about me

[marztheincredible]

Question!

And possibly a fun one but I was rewatching some bits of season 2 waiting for “Thanks to Them” to release and got reminded of a question I had earlier but never asked but seeing Salty reminded me and here we are.

So. Sea Shanties. And Ol’ Navy/Sailor superstations. Since the Boiling Seas are much more dangerous than our own waters (debatably but probably true). They must have also seen the corpses of other Titans or had contact with other inhabitants (you can’t tell me the “Emperor’s” Navy weren’t there to keep the witches and demons on the boiling isles and have a record of everyone Capable of Leaving) and I can only imagine what strange things they must have seen out there and what stories they would tell about other possible Titans remains out there.

So I suppose my question is what kinda stories or truths sneaked onto the main island? Do you think there were old sea shanties that were actually forgotten bits of bard magic? Any secrets Belos destroyed specific to the seas? Sailors were often looked down upon if I remember my history correctly (the navy enlisted men not the officers) and were considered…undesirable (rowdy, unpleasant, troublemakers which makes sense if you consider they spend months at sea making money and have a lot to spend when they get back to shore and only a little time to spend it before it’s back on the boats)

I’m rambling. Belos and his “Navy” seem interesting to me since he must be at least a little familiar with sea travel considering that they are from the “New World”

The Captain peers down at his newest recruit with caution. He’s young, perhaps only twenty summers old, he’s also naive.

They haven’t even left the port yet and he’s already stumbling around the deck like a fish out of water. Then again, his circumstances aren’t nothing to laugh at. He is just another runaway.

“Boy!” He snaps, the young man jolts to attention, body stiff and eyes forward. “You’ve made the decision to board my ship and become a part of my crew. Do you know what that means?”

Silver eyes glance up warily and the boy stammers out an answer. It’s jumbled and incoherent, and he’s sure he hears something along the lines of serving the Emperor and his Will across dangerous seas and strange lands.

The Captain scoffs. “We don’t work for the Emperor, boy. First rule in my ship, forget all that hogwash they taught you in that sore eye of a castle. The seas teach you and the stars listen.” He points to the night sky. “Secondly, this will be the last time you see your Titan for a long time. So it’s now or never if you want to leave with us.”

There’s hesitation in the boy’s eyes, one of his hands rubs the reddened skin of his right wrist where an coven mark lies. When he hissed at the touch the hesitation turns into determination. The Captain knows he’s made his decision.

“Good,” The Captain grunts. “Lastly, we are quiet when we leave this port or any instance where we are near the Emperor’s waters. Only when we are under the gaze of the Others we are able to sail freely. Understood?”

The last rule is met with confusion, the Captain can’t blame the boy. He’ll figure it out soon enough.

There is a sharp two toned whistle from a tower along the docks, an all clear. It’s time to leave, hopefully ten years from now this fallen Titan will be free from the Emperor’s grasp. Then again he said the very same thing ten years ago.

His crew minus the boy work efficiently in the dead of night with very little light. A well oiled machine they are, the boy looks on. Wary, as he moves to help before the Captain places a hand in his shoulder and shakes his head.

It takes almost an hour to leave the occupied waters. That hour is the most stressful for the Captain and his crew. They know they’ve left once a foreboding and heavy weight lifts from the air and the fallen Titan is but a speck in the distance.

“Ho!” The Captain yells, startling the boy beside him. “Full sails and set course!”

“Aye!” His crew responds.

His First Mate approaches him and nods her head in acknowledgement. “Full Speed, Captain?”

The Captain nods. “Aye, shall you start or should I?”

The woman laughs. “You flatter me sir, but it’s you whose always had such a lovely voice.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, pointing to the boy he tells her to watch him and marches his way down the ship. Each step is rhythmic and begins a cadence. His crew has caught on and whilst performing their tasks a slow melodic hum emits from them.

The Captain takes a deep breath and bellows: “I’ve seen the seas for all they’re worth, with bones lying beneath! For each and every skull, there lies a shining set of teeth! And when the sea has had enough, I look for new afar! But the only sea worth searching, is the sea full of stars!”

“Others take me from the sea! Others take us now! For we have seen what all is worth, so take us stern to bow!” His crew responds in tune, in sync with one another. The wind picks up and the boat jolts forward, steaming waves crashing again the hull.

“And when the Others take me there, what treasure would I find? A life anew and worth to share, or Titans left behind? No matter how fast or hard we sail, we’d never reach the end! So Others take me to the skies and show me ‘round the bend!”

“Others take me from the Sea! Others take us now! For we have seen what all is worth, so take us stern to bow!”

The Captain lets his First Mate pick up the rest and walks back up to the helm. His helmsman as taken his spot at the rune inscribed wheel, humming along to the shanty being bellowed out into the night.

“Jenkins.” The Captain speaks.

“Sir.” Jenkins replies.

“Status?”

“We’ll be at full speed by the next lyric and the wards have been applied.”

The Captain nods, satisfied and looks back down at the boy, whose gazing upon his crew in awe.

“I-I’ve never seen such magic! The instant increase in speed without an engine? The ward that was applied without a Healer or Oracle present? The singing! Is everyone on this ship a Bard?”

The Captain barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “What was my first rule lad?”

The boy stops rambling mid sentence and furrows his brow. “Forget everything the Empire has taught me…but I just can’t!–”

“It’s alright,” the Captain reassures. “It’ll take time and we have plenty of it.”

#Secrets beyond an Empire that controls an entire populations world view? why yes yes there are 😌 #sea shanties and all included in this snippet #I went uhhh overboard on this ask #magical sea shanties that enchance the ships speed among other things my beloved #the owl house #toh #toh fanfic #titan’s blessing #fic #fanfic

[nickyandmikey]

nothing like being 50 pages deep in a specific category of an online used book store

#picked out a liz taylor biography and a leonard cohen poetry collection among other things 😌

[sungracd]

what is your character arc?

romance / friendship arc     you  started  this  story  a  little  hard,  or  awkward,  or  stubborn.  that’s  okay.  it’s  harder  than  it  should  be  to  admit,  but  what  you  really  want  is  love.  that’s  what  your  story  is  all  about  —  not  just  the  act  of  loving,  but  the  allowance  of  it.  the  confession  that  you  do  not  want  to  fight  or  bleed  or  save  the  world,  but  to  simply  feel  the  way  two  hands  fit  so  easily  together.  you  will  have  two  chairs  and  a  table  and  you  will  shut  your  blinds,  and  you  will  say  the  word  love  without  faltering.  this  is  a  happy  ending,  and  you  do  not  need  to  feel  guilty.  it�� hurts  our  hands  to  fight  —  never  to  hold.

#✧ · ˚ . what is to give light must endure burning . hc. #soft bitch hours 😌 this is them to a tee #their childhood got a lil rough towards the end there but they still came out filled w compassion for others #love was seen as a very Human thing and their humanity as smth that made them weak & foolish among angels #but they love love and people and emotions and damnit they do what they want!!

[helsensm]

The aftermath of the karaoke night by @1aik-lieutenant - I saw it and immediately wanted to draw something aahhjJHFH 🙈

+ random thoughts and headcanons

they. are. hammered.

yep, the gang decided that Kenshi is the one to lead the way back home. The man has NO IDEA where they are 😔 (they stumbled upon Waccas)

Johnny is a high-functioning alcoholic, he drinks almost every day and usually can hold his liquor. But when he's out partying or having fun with friends he loses control and often is the first one on the floor.

Kung Lao drinks as much as he can but he also eats a lot (like A LOT) so somehow he's the most stable of the four.

Raiden switches between silent smiling (he's just happy to be there 😊) and loudly talking about random things. Also I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one who starts beef with a sketchy group of people down the alley.

Johnny was the loudest singer but it was Kenshi and Raiden who lost their voices the next day.

OF COURSE they were singing International Love among other songs, this goes without saying!

I hope Johnny is not lactose intolerant cause I'm pretty sure it's a milkshake…

It's either a double date OR - and hear me out! - railao are not together yet, but that night they were more physically affectionate with each other than usual and both realized they don't mind to take things to the next level 👀

…or they continue to not talk about their feelings so the ache and desire will burn them from the inside because DRAMA 😌♥️

#my art #earthrealm defenders #takahashi kenshi #kenshi takahashi #johnny cage #kung lao #raiden #johnshi #railao #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk raiden #helsensm art

[devourable]

✘ delinquents

sfw | tws : yandere behavior; stalking, obsessive thoughts, mildly implied violence

delinquent male yanderes x reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’ 😌 i took a bit longer than expected so i hope yall enjoy these knuckleheads

mattias was the first to take notice of you.

he caught sight of you during one of his typical late night walks with his friends, semi-drunkenly cracked jokes amongst themselves as they passed around liquor that they had stolen earlier in the day. and when his gaze fell onto you from some distance away, he stopped walking.

you were doing nothing but sitting at a bus stop, but... what was it about you? the way the street lamp bathed you in its light, illuminating you with an amber glow like you were the only thing on the street? it made the boy's heart stutter in a way he'd never felt before!

when his friends returned to his side upon noticing he had stopped walking, mattie quickly pointed you out to his friends ("guys, check out that cutie!"), and an additional three pairs of eyes landed on you as your bus rumbled down the road. and they all had the same reaction as him — you were adorable! what were you doing out on your own so late? didn’t you know there were criminals around here? poor little thing you were, you must’ve not had any other choice…

clearly, you needed someone to protect you!

they were too far away to approach then and there, but it was probably for the best. getting talked up by four drunk, imposing male strangers so late at night would probably not make the best first impression, one of them pointed out as they watches you board your bus. so completely unbeknownst to you, your four new admirers had already began to devise a plan to meet you formally.

it was strange how naturally their collective desire for you fell together. any other time, if even just two of them liked the same person, it was enough to cause infighting and strife among the friend group. but you? the way you united them simply by existing, you had to be something special! it must’ve been destiny that they noticed you that night.

the four would slowly trickle their way into your life, one by one. despite mattias begging to be the one to do it, dominic would be the first of the four you’d actually meet. in his eyes, he was the least intimidating, the most suave, the most manipulative. his charmingly crooked smile had always helped him charm his way into and out of most situations, and you were no different.

he’d casually start riding the same bus as you at the same times you did, using it as an excuse to talk to you. coincidentally, you and him had the same stops, too! and he even got the driver to give you free lifts, even when he wasn't around. it was an old favor he was owed, he'd say, so you didn't have to pay any mind to the tense demeanor of the bus driver whenever you boarded.

naturally he’d offer to walk you home, too, but if you weren’t comfortable with that, it was no biggie (he’d figure out where you lived regardless). he was content with waving you off and walking in a different direction for the meantime.

mattias and judas came next. when dom had managed to convince you to stop by the nearby corner store with him one day, his friends just so happened to be there! as if they weren’t waiting there every day after you and dom had established a friendship.

it was all mattias could do to not scoop you up the moment you met. you were even cuter up close! he was so happy when his patience was rewarded by being graced with your voice, your laughs at his witty sense of humor, and your little smile when you looked at him. did you like him back? did you think he was half as attractive as he found you to be? he desperately wanted to know what you thought of him, but he choked back his questions to keep from scaring you off. in spite of his usually energetic persona, he played it cool to gain your favor.

judas, meanwhile, observed you in relative silence — he wasn’t much of a talker, dom explained — but it didn’t mean his thoughts weren’t any less intense than mattias’s. he couldn’t deny it — he liked you, quite a lot. more than he thought he would. despite finding you attractive too, he didn’t think much of you when he had first grown aware of your existence. he’d simply chalked you up to be the temporary fixation of his friends. but the second you did meet, judas’s mind went to places he had never expected it to go.

for once, he found himself… wanting someone. wanting you. and for once, he was happy his friends had dragged them into this whole scheme.

the four of you all got along so well! and when aaron was finally introduced to you as well, he was no exception. aaron was the only of the four to have a car, so when he ‘learned’ that you were taking the bus so late to get around, he was quick to offer up his own services to help you out ("dom is too much of a nuisance to drive around," he'd claim). an excuse to be able to spend more time with you, with and without his friends around, and you don’t have to deal with public transportation anymore! a win-win, right? and when you accepted, he was over the moon.

it didn't take long for them to sweep you right off your feet after you had met all four of them. they were relentless in capturing your heart and all four of them worked together to ensure you were theirs.

on top of that, none of them were afraid of breaking a few rules or laws to do that, either.

you found yourself always with at least one of the four — usually mattias, as he had the most free time and arguably liked you the most — and the few times you weren't, you could bet they were doing everything in their power to get back to you. other people in your life suddenly began to pull away from you, never having time or simply not wanting to be around you, or so they claimed. it left you with little else to turn to outside of the boys. they had started to puppeteer your life without you ever even knowing it.

they didn't quite understand the pull you had on them — hell, you didn't even realize what you were doing to them! and they even started to question if what they were doing was okay. was what they were doing to your life just to keep you in theirs worth it?

but dominic, mattias, judas, and aaron all came to the same decision the day you agreed to be in a relationship with all four of them...

it was definitely worth it. and they'd keep doing whatever it took to keep things going exactly as they were.

#🚬 the delinquents #mattias callahan #aaron diaz #dominic graves #judas jones #mine | fics #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x oc #polyam yanderes

[doromoni]

Off Track Pace | MV1 , ?

Ships Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader , ? x presenter! Reader , Platonic! Charles Leclerc x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : mutual pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late,

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim: Sofia Wylie

A/N : I’m so sorry luvs! I’m working on updating Clash of Champions , i promise ~ it’s my uni’s finals exams so I gotta focus on that first… so here’s a peace offering.

Media day, usually on a Thursday — a day that most Formula 1 drivers dread. A day where cameras followed their every move, interviews with journalists that twisted their every word and silly PR stunts forced on them by their teams. It used to be just all racing and winning podiums, but modern Formula 1 is all about media politics and sponsorships.

If you were to ask any driver on the grid if they were given the chance not to do PR, they would say yes to skipping it. But not everything about media day is horrendous.

Not when a new motorsports journalist joins the paddock that was an absolute sweetheart and delight to have around. A natural on the job — she always made sure that every driver that she interviewed was comfortable and enjoying their time with her and the segment.

the.Y/N

liked by skysportsf1 , lissiemackintosh, f1 , and 689,270 others

the.Y/N first day on the job? . i’m not nervous, you are! (She said literally shaking)

skysportsf1 Welcome to the team Y/N! ❤️

the.Y/N thank you kind employers. 🤍

lissiemackintosh Babe!! It’s finally official. Congratulations!

the.Y/N Thanks to you Babe!! I swear I would’ve been lost without you 😭

User1 who is she?

the.Y/N literally no one

User2 Ohhhh a new commentator? 🤔

User3 maybe she’s a journalist?

scuderriaferrari the kids had fun. They want their clay statues on display!

User2 Clay statues?? Hello?? Wut?

User3 Same question, Clay statues??

the.Y/N wait and see 🤷‍♀️ , the interview would drop tomorrow? Maybe~

User4 Its her first day and she literally had an interview with Charles and Carlos in Ferrari???

the.Y/N well no , the first interview was with Lewis Hamilton … so. 🤭

User5 WHAT?? Ok , queen slay!

User4 damnn , imagine being new to your field and already interviewing the big guys.

mclaren Do us next please 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing get in line!

the.Y/N gotta stop by Aston first , sorry besties.

User6 OK WHAT IS HAPPENING, ms. Y/N who are your connections 😭 i want in.

User7 why are all the teams here??

Y/N L/N was the F1 presenter and journalist who put drivers willingly out of their comfort zones and made them try something new. You genuinely loved what you do and you were passionate about it. You never showed partiality among the drivers, you treated everyone with the same attitude — this earned the respect of all drivers on the grid.

You were quickly becoming a paddock favorite. The fans enjoyed the content you put out and the drivers looked forward to your interview when they saw your name on their schedule.

Interviewing with you usually meant cheat meals and unusual activities that you thought they would like.

the.Y/N

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 740,155 others

the.Y/N maybe bowling isn’t the best idea. @charles_leclerc you suck, ngl. New vid out on Monday at the sky sports channel🤍

charles_leclerc i hate you ❤️

the.Y/N no you don’t 😌

charles_leclerc no, i don’t

User1 I love their dynamic so much!! I need more of the Paddock siblings pleaseee

User2 I can’t wait for more of Y/N bullying Charles into weird things and Ferrari doing nothing about it🤣

landonorris but why is charles in a cowboy costume?

the.Y/N i dunno? He just showed up in that 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc You told me we were riding horses and you wanted me to wear smth cowboy!!

the.Y/N oh yeah! Lmao

landonorris should i feel bad?

the.Y/N Nope. He’s happy either way. Aren’t you @charles_leclerc?

User2 NOT THE LMAO . Y/N thank you being you

User3 Y/N giving us Cowboy Charles , yes ma’am

User3 JUST DATE ALREADY!

the.Y/N EW. No

charles_leclerc Ok , the ew was unnecessary. But same. No thanks :)) i’m not dating my sister .

User4 Charles call y/n his sister 🥺

However, No matter how much you tried to keep things professional by being just a driver: journalist, something your boss commented during a quick meeting because fans kept shipping you with every driver. What you found weird is that most drivers you see as older brothers and some even uncles (don’t tell Nando). Plus most of them had girlfriends!

Nevertheless, your relationship with them seems to always end up with them hanging around your office at Sky, whenever they are free. Even the older drivers like Nando, Lewis and even Nico and Kevin use your office as an escape from the chaos of their motorhomes.

You didn’t mind hosting the older drivers in your room, as they were usually tame and kept to themselves as they read the books on your shelves in peace. They usually plop themselves down your couch and place the oversized plush you always bring on their lap. They always brought you snacks, so you looked forward to the times when their heads popped in your door and asked if they could come in.

But when the younger drivers visit your office? And if they came in groups — which they usually do. Oh boy, it was either a clusterfuck of them stealing snacks from your secret stash or your office becoming a den for hot gossip in the paddock usually led by the one and only Charles Leclerc.

Case in point. You now have Charles, Carlos, Max and to your surprise Checo in your office. The older Spanish-speaking driver was a rare visitor, but a welcome one nonetheless.

But considering the topic in discussion, you understood the presence of the two Red Bull drivers.

You were in the middle of typing away on your laptop when suddenly they barged in with ice cream tubs and spoons at hand then found a spot to sit and made themselves comfortable.

“Is Newey leaving Red Bull?” Charles asked Max and Checo, as he scooped a bite from his ice cream.

“We have no clue! Christian is saying nothing to us. Nothing” Max exclaimed exasperated as Checo nodded in agreement.

“So Adrian Newey is moving to Ferrari?” You questioned as you pointed your spoon at Charles

“Y/N, I love you like a sister and I know that you’re incredibly smart, but sometimes you are stupid. We’re clueless in Ferrari, hence my question ”

You threw your wooden spoon at the Monaco-born Ferrari driver. Which he easily avoided thanks to his fast reflexes. Freaking f1 reflexes!

“ I wasn't the person who got named for being stupid— HEY! Max give that back!! You don't even like salted caramel” You were trying to rebut Charles’ insult but were distracted when Max took your ice cream for himself.

Max just shrugged and placed his half-consumed chocolate brownie fudge ice cream in your hands — his spoon still in it. You didn’t complain further as you took his spoon and took a bite yourself. Yum! Brownie fudge is your favorite.

“Dude, what is even going on inside Red Bull? What was Horner under investigation for?” Carlos pressed on, trying to find answers. You were curious yourself

“Everyone is being weird. They’re keeping things from us. “ Checo added. You knew that they were truly left in the dark because if they knew they would’ve spilled instantly. NDAs be damned.

“Every interview, people keep asking if we know something! one more journalist and I swear I’ll run them over with my car! I hate each one of them” Max grumbled to himself.

You coughed. You knew that you were an exception but you couldn’t help but mess around with your friends.

“Don’t even, Y/N. You know you don’t count. “ Max waved you off.

“Wow! Thank you for that babe. Way to make a girl feel special” you said jokingly to the Dutch driver, as you winked dramatically. To which he only rolled his eyes — making you and the rest of the drivers laugh.

Max was immune to your flirting, unfortunately. It sucked especially when you had a tiny …. Ok big … HUGE crush on the 3 time world champion.

Max to you was like an Older brother’s best friend — Where you were the little sister crushing on him and you didn’t have a chance. You knew that like the other drivers, he just saw you as a little sister. But still you couldn’t help but fall the star driver of Red Bull.

Everything started when you brought your niece to the paddock because your sister had an emergency. You were scheduled to interview Checo in the RB motorhome and your niece was starting to feel fussy and you were slightly panicking on what to do— when Max suddenly came to your rescue and took your niece out to ice cream.

You admit you found Max attractive even before— like so damn attractive, but that was it— nothing more. But when you found Max carrying your niece in his arms as they played inside his garage, you knew that you were a goner to the charms of Max Verstappen.

You have been pinning for Max for a year now. You wished that you had the confidence and courage to just confess. But the fear of rejection freighted you, so you settled to just keep your friendship with the devastatingly handsome Red Bull champion.

As time went on, and nothing but friendship between you and Max developed — You’ve come to terms with the process of letting go of your feelings. Even when you’ve already met his mom and sister, hung out in his yacht and spent nights over his place when movie nights with Charles and his girlfriend went too late. You knew not to think anything of it.

And you were right to think nothing of it. Because not a week later, rumors had spread all over the paddock that Kelly Piquet had set her eyes on Max. You didn’t believe it at first, but when you saw with your own two eyes them engaged talking happily in his garage. The sparkle in Max’s eyes had solidified your will to move on.

A few weeks had passed and Kelly’s presence was constant in the paddock. Everyone had speculated that she had become Max’s girlfriend. But no one was sure, not even you — Max had been silent about it.

You tried to be happy for them you did. But you can’t blame yourself for wishing that it was you instead. Even to this day, you are still trying to forget and bury your feelings for Max.

“Y/N? Y/N? Oi Y/N” You suddenly were startled out of your thoughts. You forgot that you were still with the drivers in your office.

“What? Sorry, I just remembered something. What did you say?” You asked Charles as he was the one who called you.

“I asked if you had an interview today” Upon hearing the words of the Monegasque, your eyes grew wide as you remembered that you did have a job to do and you were indeed almost late.

“SHIT! I DO I’m late! “ You suddenly sprang up from your seat and quickly gathered the things you needed — while the 4 drivers looked at you with amusement.

“Who’s scheduled for you today, Y/N?” Max had also sat up from his seat and gave you an opened bottle of water.

You received the bottle from Max. You didn’t have to thank the driver — just one look from you and he knew.

The other drivers looked amongst themselves as they saw your exchange with Max. Everyone had a knowing look on their faces.

“I'm going to Mclaren today! I have the whole day with Lando. “ You said as you closed your once abandoned laptop and placed it in your bag — the one Max gave you on your birthday.

“What have you planned for Lando, Y/N?” Checo asked curiously. He still remembered his interview where you both made bracelets and stuffed toys for his daughters — his daughters loved it and went to sleep with it every single day.

“Oh! I’m taking Lando to a rage room, then drive-thru for food.” You explained happily to the older Mexican driver.

“Which part of that is the interview?” Charles had interjected

“While we eat the food in the parking lot, duh,” You said as if they should’ve already known. Well, they should by now.

“You know Y/N, Lando likes you right? ” Carlos had suddenly dropped a bomb on you. You didn’t expect it at all.

“What?” Max had suddenly said — catching all of you off guard. You didn’t understand, why Max had reacted so suddenly. But you pushed that aside for now as you continued to stuff everything you need in the bag

“What do you mean, Lando likes me?” You asked Carlos, with your eyebrows scrunched together.

“He likes you. Like you know? Take you out on dates and all that” Carlos replied as he gauged your reaction.

“Ohhhh, that’s cute! how did you even know about it, Carlos” you asked not taking any of it seriously.

“Cute?” You heard Max muttered under his breath.

“He told me. I won’t spoil anything else. I’m not even supposed to say that he likes you, but oh well.” Carlos shrugged as he finished off his ice cream.

“What do you think about Lando?” Charles suddenly asked you. The Ferrari driver leaned forward

“Will you date him if he asks you ?” Checo then joined the conversation.

“ You should say yes, I mean you two are the same-“ Charles had suddenly grown excited.

“Ok whoa, calm down dads. He hasn’t asked anything yet! “ you exclaimed

“But will you say yes if he asked?” Max then asked you, his eyes piercing your soul. After all of the other questions, Max was the one to Catch you off guard.

“Uh yes, I guess? I mean, why not? Lando is fun And he is single right … ” You were panicking so you said yes, even when you knew that you weren’t ready for anything like that since you still held feelings for Max.

“ YES! I thought that you-“ Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence when you cut him off.

“OK, bye guys! See you later. I need to go!” And just like that you were gone, leaving the four drivers in your office — not letting them question you further.

“I swear, that kid is weird.” Charles shakes his head from side to side at your actions.

“Lando likes Y/N?” Max had asked again just to make sure that he had heard the Spaniard correctly.

“ Lando is a good kid. They’ll make a good couple, no?” Checo asked no one in particular, as Max was not moving from where you left him.

“Wait, wait… since when did Lando like Y/N?” Max asked confused, looking green with jealousy. Fingers tingling as they clenched on itself

“Well he was interested in Y/N since the beginning but he backed off since everyone thought that you two had a thing” Carlos explained as he stood up and went to raid your snack stash.

“Yeah, but now you’re with the daughter of Piquet. what’s her name again? KELLY! yes, kelly. So Lando is taking his shot” Charles added

“You knew? Charles, you knew about Lando?” Max was aghast at the knowledge that was just receiving now.

“Well yeah? I was the one to encourage him to ask Y/N out. ” Charles shrugged nonchalantly. He knew about your feelings for the Red Bull driver, but he also saw how hurt you were when Max started seeing Kelly out of nowhere. Charles wanted to help his friends — specially the ones that he grew to love like his own sibling in any way that he could. Plus it was time for Y/N to have fun, and Lando Norris is exactly that.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Max was conflicted. His emotions growing uncontrollably by the second.

“ Mate, we haven’t seen you for how many weeks! You were always out with your new girlfriend. Even Y/N had no contact with you “ Carlos explained to Max.

silence filled the room, when suddenly pings of notifications sounded all over the rooms.

And Charles couldn’t help but whistle.

“Well he sure does move past” he had added.

Your story

As Max looked at his phone. Your Ig story flashed. His heart had started to hurt and the feeling of a pit in his stomach grew. it was as if someone punched him right in the gut.

And another notification ping had popped . And it only made Max’s stomach churn even further.

landonorris

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #red bull racing #mclaren #max verstappen #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #ln4 x y/n #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv1 imagine #charles leclerc #cl16 x you #mclaren formula 1 #ferrari #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando imagine #max verstappen x you #cl16 x y/n #f1 grid x reader

[edel-scribe]

get you a man filled with joyous whimsy

#among other things #😌

[meowzfordayz]

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀 

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!” 

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!” 

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

…

Tengen starts running 

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?” 

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

#hashira x reader #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

[jymwahuwu]

Hello, it's my first time asking and it took me a lot of courage to do this. So I recently had a thought about what if the reader and Jing Yuan were childhood friends and she used to tease him a lot when they were younger but then she did something to get exiled from the Xianzhou and became part of the stellaron hunters but came back with blade and Kafka like in the story but after the whole phantiliya battle was finished she still stayed on the Luofu for awhile for nostalgia but got captured by the cloud nights and she was sent to see the general himself. But all this time the reader thought the general would have hated her for what she did but instead of hating her he was waiting for her to come back so he could see her and tease her like how she did to him. Idk if anyone else has already sent an idea like this but I just wanted to share my thoughts and I think it would be a pretty interesting storyline. Sorry if I was rambling but it's okay if you don't write abt this I'll be fine if you just gave some thoughts about it. Thank you for reading this idea of mine and don't worry about answering fast I know you have a lot going on in your life so just take care of yourself! (Also sorry if there are some things that didn't make sense I'm too scared to look back at what I wrote)

Love this idea!! It’s interesting and you expressed it clearly. Don't be afraid <3

Ah…turning the tables…my favourite 🤤😌 please provide me with more

-CW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, threaten

In childhood, you and Jing Yuan were friends. Jing Yuan has precocious wisdom and is out of place among his peers, but you don't respect him. Maybe just…jealousy? These are for some childish reasons, maybe he gets perfect marks every time, he gets candy but you don't, and parents on both sides compare you to him. In your eyes, Jing Yuan is just a white-haired little boy who is similar to you. You occasionally pull his soft white hair, make him some strange braids, and often tease him, such as giving him nicknames and laughing at him. The strange thing is that Jing Yuan has never been angry with you and is as tolerant to you as the ocean.

As you grow older, you gradually drift away from each other. You also know that he joined the Cloud Knights and eventually… succeeded general. Seeing him on the Space Channel, the childhood friend you used to tease, became one of the leaders of this space civilization, and you had really mixed emotions.

You have taken your own path in life, become a member of the Stellaron Hunters, and fallen into the gray area. You and the members pick up Blade and accept him as a new member. I heard that he used to be Jing Yuan's best friend, but when you asked him about it, you found that his memory was also blurred.

Just like you.

Looking back on the past and reviving those faded memories, you are a little unsure whether Jing Yuan really never got angry, or whether you subconsciously beautified this memory. How can this be? He definitely hates you.

Before setting off back to Luofu, Elio's message said that this time the script is about Kafka, Blade and you. He tells you to be careful of General Luofu because this time you have only one fate, which is to be [caught], and only this fate can continue your destiny. It seems that most of the details are no longer visible, and your fate is shrouded in mist. You couldn't help but feel funny and told them you'd be fine.

What can Jing Yuan do to you?

However, the wanted portrait is indeed painted lifelike, in Xianzhou's traditional style. It's hard not to think that Jing Yuan provided an extremely detailed proposal in painting the wanted poster about you. It's kind of creepy.

You rescued Blade according to the flow of the script and met with Kafka. While they went to find the rumored Imbibitor Lunae, you spent some time reminiscing on Luofu. Just a moment. The moment you stepped into that familiar place, you immediately fell into unconsciousness. There was a very slight tingling sensation on your neck, like a small ant biting you, and then you fell into the boundless darkness.

When you woke up… your wrists were already locked with iron chains wrapped in feathers, right at the head of the bed. If you don't pay attention, the chain can even become invisible. Accompanying it was the general's narrowed smile, a little mocking but still gentle. The enlarged smile is right in front of you.

"Jing Yuan?! What are you doing?" A kiss electrified your heart. You watched in shock as your childhood friend held the back of your head and kissed you, lingeringly, lovingly. His eyes were closed, as if he was enjoying it, murmuring your name while kissing you. You pushed and kicked him, but he enveloped you like a quilt, crushing you. He places you in the mating position and bottoms out his cock inside you, emptying out his long-unreleased seed.

"Jing Yuan…? Stop! Stop this…"

Jing Yuan won't stop teasing you - you are too cute for him and that doesn't change. He continued to whisper lewd things in your ear, and occasionally lied about having sent a video of your orgasm to people who hated Stellaron Hunters. Your eyes were as wide as a frightened deer and you sucked his cock with resignation, tears falling. And the number of orgasms is so humiliating, you always deny it… You will not lose to the Jing Yuan you used to tease…

Jing Yuan likes you, but does not deny the possibility. Maybe Jing Yuan once really hated you, maybe he hated you during those teasings, but a long life is like peeling off the peel of a fruit in the end, revealing the crystal clear flesh inside. What remains are those sparkling memories. Your bright smile stayed in his memory.

#jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

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

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

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

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

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

You shiver. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously."

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

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

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

"And that's why you'll be the —"

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

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

"Technically, that's true."

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

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

"Well —"

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

" — Think fast!"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

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

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

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

"Hey… thanks."

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

"Mm-hm."

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

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

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

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

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

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

"Goodnight, Chan."

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

But tomorrow never came.

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

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

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

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

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

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

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

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

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

"Nothing guarantees —"

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

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

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

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

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

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

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

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

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

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

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

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

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

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

"Chan?!"

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

"What about you?"

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

"But —"

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

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

"Chan, what's —"

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

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

"You hate those kinds of things."

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

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

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

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

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

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

What was going on?

Boom!

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

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

It's gone.

"No…"

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

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

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

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

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

For now.

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

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

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

"Don't. Move."

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

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

"Go ahead and shoot."

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

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

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

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

"I —"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

"I — I —"

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

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

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

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

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Huh?"

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

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

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

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's stale too.

Fucker.

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

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

"Hey, now —"

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

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

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

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

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

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

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

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

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

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

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

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

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

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

You feel a funny sensation.

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

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

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not like that's anything new."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except you're on edge.

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

"Now who's staring?"

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

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

Hope.

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

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

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

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

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

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

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

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

"'Lo, Wonu."

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

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

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

"Oh, Lina…"

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

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

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

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

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

"I am strong!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

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

"I swear!"

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

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

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

"Really?!"

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

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

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

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

"Choi!"

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

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

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

"Dunno, cute?"

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

"No need for apologizin', man."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

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

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a bounty hunter."

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

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

"Oh? Same here."

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

"He's…?"

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

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

"Yeah, tell me about it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

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

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

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

"M-maybe."

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

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

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

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fill me up again?"

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

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

But you know the truth.

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

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

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

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

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

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

"Hey, you."

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

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

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

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

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

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

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

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

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

"'Cause that's what he is."

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

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

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

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

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

"Only if you get one, too."

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

"As you wish, m'lady!"

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

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

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

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

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

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

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

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

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

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

"'Kay."

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

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

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

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

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

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

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

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

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

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

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

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

Splash.

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

"Let's begin… the killing time."

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

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

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

Rem Saverem.

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

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

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

"What's got you making that face?"

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

"What face?"

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

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

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

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

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

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

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

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

"… Yeah. I like you."

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

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

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

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

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

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

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

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

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

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

"I'm not the only one!"

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

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

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

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

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

"You're right. How dare I?"

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

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

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

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

Yet, it hurts all the more.

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

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

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

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

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

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

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

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

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

Don't leave me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

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

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

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

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

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

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

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

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

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

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

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

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

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

How typical.

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

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

"Soonyoung's coming."

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

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

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

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

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

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

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

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

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

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

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

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

Antagonize.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really, 'Kwan?"

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

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

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

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

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

"All that does is make me cringe."

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

"Who's acting like what?"

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

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

"There's no way!"

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

"Uh-huh."

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

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

"The hell did you even throw for?"

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

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

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

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

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

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

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

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

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

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

"Don't recall!"

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

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

"Aw, see? You still care!"

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

"Sure you do."

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

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

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

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

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

"As far as we know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

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

"Dokyeom. DK."

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

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

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

"… Deadly Knives?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

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

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

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

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

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

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

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

"… Mistake?"

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

You wonder how long he's known.

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

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

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

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

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

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

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

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

#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

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hi!! Can i request the re8 women with an s/o thats really insecure of her big thighs (smut and fluff) please!! thank you in advance!!! :))

Hello, dear! ♥️ I hope you don't mind that I went with our dear Countess on this one 👀😌

Alcina looked at you incredulously, almost offended at your words as you stood in front of the mirror, half clothed.

"What.. did you just say?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

"They're too big, my lady! Just look at them!"

You smacked the outer part of your thigh, making them jiggle. An act that only made the Countess' eyes narrow in an entirely different way.

"Draga, your thighs are exquisite. A feast for the eyes, among.. other things."

She stood, slowly circling your body before coming to stand beside you in the mirror.

"Why, it'd be nothing but an honor to mark over every inch of that supple flesh of yours, pet."

You pouted, pulling the shirt you wore down a little lower in a poor attempt to cover your exposed skin.

"You're just saying that."

The Lady sighed and placed her cigarette onto it's holder on the dresser. A single fluid movement of her fingers and the back of her dress was unbuttoned, the soft fabric willowing to the floor beneath her. You instantly blushed - not that you hadn't seen Alcina's naked before - but you honestly didn't think you'd ever not blush at such a sinful sight.

"Now, my dear.. tell me, what do you see?"

"Fucking beauty."

Alcina chuckled. "Language."

"Ah.. sorry.. I mean.. you're beautiful, my lady."

"Mh.. and how much larger would you say my thighs are than yours?"

You bit your bottom lip, eyes grazing over the ashen landscape that was the lower part of her body.

"Quite.. quite a bit."

"Exactly.. and does that make them any less beautiful?"

"What!? No! But you're.. you! I'm just-"

She leaned down low, taking your chin between two fingers.

"Just what? Careful with your words, draga."

You huffed slightly. "I mean.. I'm just.. you know.. me-"

Before you could fully finish your sentence you were lifted into the air and tossed onto the Countess' bed - rough enough to pull a small amount of air from your lungs but still placed with the upmost of care. Your body instantly overcome with a fevered heat as she moved in a little closer, removing your underwear with a single swish of her claws.

Clicking her tongue in disappointment, Alcina leaned down.

"We have talked about this, pet, have we not?"

You nodded, cheeks already flushed in a deep crimson.

"Y-yes, my lady."

"And what did we discuss, hm?"

"That.. that there's nothing.. just.."

A pause - followed by a moan when her hand came down against your thighs in response, marking it with a delicious red welt.

"Mmph-! That there's n-nothing just about me! My lady."

"Mh.. better."

Alcina rose to her full height before coming to join you on the bed, her large frame positioned directly in front of where your body lay.

"Now, draga.. lie back while I take my time marking this pretty flesh of yours."

Your eyes closed at the first touch - as her lips came to your skin, quickly followed the graze of her teeth and the sweet sting of her claws. And oh, how the juices pooled within the heated space between your legs, building with each imprint of her claim on you - with each drop of blood that trickled down the inner and outer parts of your thighs from the deeper ones. Your breath catching in your throat as the warmth of her breath moved even closer to your core.

"Such a stunning pet. So perfect."

Another kiss, and then another, only stopping after she finally placed one to your clit.

"And all mine." She growled.

Her tongue swept generously over your core and you nearly lost control, hips immediately bucking into her. The Castle air, cool - soothing against the heated marks on your skin and exposing the full measure of your arousal.

"Yes, all yours." You gasped.

A moan mixed with a growl muffled into the wet folds that enveloped the lower part of her face - vibrating against your entrance and making you even needier, desperate.

"M-more." You pleaded.

The Lady obliged, lifting your hips with one hand as the other came to your core - a single tease over the slit of you before her finger slid in, filling your core almost instantly.

You moaned, embarrassingly loud and with zero inhibitions.

"Someone's greedy." The Lady smirked.

"Y'yes."

The next few moments were but a blur, with the Lady's finger driving relentlessly in and out of you. Forcing one wave of pleasure over you after another as your whole body convulsed in pleasure - time and time again. And even if you'd wanted to, there was no voice for which to protest with - not to tell her you've had enough as each word in your body was swallowed by a cry.. a moan.. an endless scream into the night as your desire continuously soaked her bed sheets below you.

By the time your body had fallen breathless to the bed you could barely think, barely breathe. Panting as a thick fog of bliss took residence in your mind and aftershocks of pleasure rolled warmly over you.

"Alcina-"

"Hush, pet. Reserve your energy."

You nodded, allowing your breath to slowly begin to return to normal. A few moments and one or two glasses of water later and Alcina came to sit beside you, fingers gently tracing over some of the marks she gave you.

"Now.. draga.. the next time you have these unsavory thoughts about yourself, I want you to take a look at these marks and remind yourself of exactly what I think of you."

You looked at her sheepishly, blushing even harder when you saw the full lengths of what she'd done to you.

"I .. I will, my lady."

"Good. Good, pet."

#depravity answered #anonymous #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 fanfic #lady dimitrescu fanfiction #slkdjfldskfk #i had fun with this one 👀 #so thank you #ahemmmm #i hope you enjoyed! #re8 asks

[intriga-hounds]

some updates

i’ve been really busy lately. so busy i don’t really engage online a whole lot anymore. i feel pretty disconnected from dogdom in general, but also from the silken world. then again, every time i dip my toe back in, i just think, “oh yuck.”

work has been going well, but i’ve been so stressed about making things go well that my hair is falling out and my health continues to be poor. planning on seeing a dermatologist and hopefully getting more exercise back into my life soon. honestly everything is going really well except my body finding new ways to let me down lmao

planning on breeding ponzu mid spring, and i’m determined to make that a source of joy instead of more stress. 😌 she has appointments with three different vets next month to get things rolling: regular vet for titers/vaccine updates, repro vet for consultation, and our sports vet to get her fat n buff before her pregnancy. i’ve been revisiting avidog and puppy culture and myra’s books among other things, plus just enjoying my good girl. with @pippindot’s help, we landed our first choice stud and i’m very very excited about the temperaments that i know will come out of this pairing.

baz is excelling at nose work. his instructor thinks very highly of him and said he has been progressing “by leaps and bounds.” he loves it and it is a fantastic outlet for him. due to his severe temperament issues, bazzy’s world has continuously gotten smaller the past three years, and i’m thrilled that with nose work, we’ve managed to make it a little bigger.

sivi is feeling a bit left out, so he’s coming to work with me on friday while i finish grading finals and cleaning up my classroom. he’ll get to do a few nose work hides and do a big sprint on the baseball field, but best of all, he’ll get me all to himself for the day.

as for ollie, i am missing him. i still go to let him out every morning and he isn’t there. i picked up his ashes today, so it finally feels permanent. luckily, caring for him to a ripe old age, plus knowing with certainty i made the right choice has made things easier.

i am sooooo ready for a break. this will be the first time i have no grading, planning, or presenting to do since august!!!!!!!

#sivi #7 years #teaching #text

[misshoneyimhome]

ok so like i have an idea… so reader is the first female in the nhl and just happens to be a rookie at the same time with Knies, and they also happen to share John and Aryne’s basement together. And let’s just say things get spicy and we get a little smut between the two of them. just a thought… hehe. oh and they also watch Jace, Ax and Rae together. Thank you😌

Did this turn out a little longer than I anticipated? Yes, yes it did. Do I care? No, I do not 🌺

Babe, I really enjoyed this idea, and I truly hope I came somewhat close to what you'd imagined 🤗 Please, enjoy 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; Matthew Knies x reader; professional hockey players; roommates to lovers; 18+ smut; fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, protected sex (p in v), indication of more sexual activity;

Word count; 4.5K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost

・✶ ｡ﾟ

A Home Away From Home I Matthew Knies 🖋️⚡️🌺

You'd always been a ground breaker, determined to break every glass ceiling placed before you. Since you first laced up your skates as a young girl, you knew hockey wasn't just a game; it was your passion, your calling, and your ticket to greatness.

Growing up in Toronto, the heart of hockey in Canada, you were surrounded by the sport's rich history and undeniable allure. But as a girl with dreams of playing in the big leagues, you faced more than just opponents on the ice; you faced a society that often underestimated your abilities simply because of your gender.

Yet, with unwavering determination and a fierce dedication to your craft, you climbed through the ranks of the any Hockey League you came across, unisex or female, leaving a trail of shattered stereotypes behind you. Every early morning practice, every gruelling workout, every setback, and social sacrifice—all of it was a testament to your steadfast resolve to prove that women belonged on the ice just as much as men.

And then, finally, the moment you had been tirelessly working towards arrived: the inception of the Professional Women's Hockey League (PWHL), a league where women could showcase their talents on the highest stage possible. It was a culmination not only of your own journey but also of the collective efforts of women and men alike who had fought tirelessly to make this dream a reality.

So, as you put on your Toronto jersey for the first time, sporting your favourite number, your heart swelled with pride. No longer were you just a player from one of the "standard" leagues – as some men would call it; you were a pioneer, a symbol of progress, and your city's emblem decorated across your chest only added to the weight of the moment.

With every stride on the ice, every puck you sent flying towards the net, you carried with you the hopes and dreams of a generation of young girls who dared to defy expectations. Toronto wasn't just a logo on your jersey; it was a symbol of everything you had overcome and everything you hoped to achieve.

And as you took your place among the elite athletes of the PWHL, you knew that this was only the beginning of your journey to greatness. The ice may have been cold beneath your skates, but the fire burning within you was hotter than ever before.

_

As you embarked on your journey, entering the very first season in the PWHL, there was one other thing that made the experience truly unforgettable: the unwavering support and boundless kindness of Aryne and John Tavares.

In a city where so much was happening and you could easily lose your way in a heartbeat, Aryne and John welcomed you into their home with open arms, treating you not as a guest, but as a cherished member of their family. Their generosity knew no bounds, and their genuine care for your well-being was a beacon of light in the sometimes dark and daunting world of professional sports.

Never before had you met such extraordinary people, whose warmth and compassion seemed to know no limits. With John’s many years in the NHL, they became your pillars of strength, offering solace and support during the inevitable highs and lows of your rookie season.

And while you had always been grateful for your mother's unwavering support, the Tavares’ hospitality filled a void you never even realised existed. Their home became your home, a haven of comfort and belonging amidst the chaos of professional hockey.

Yet, as you settled into the comfort of the Tavares family house, little did you anticipate the surprising twist: sharing the basement level with none other than Matthew Knies, a rookie of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

_

Fortunately, Matthew was nothing but a sweet and kind guy, and his easy smile and friendly demeanour made it effortless to coexist in the shared space of the basement. Each evening, as you bid each other goodnight and retreated to your respective rooms, there was an unspoken understanding between you—a silent acknowledgment of the unique bond forged by sharing living quarters as well as the same intense passion for hockey.

And each morning, as you crossed paths in the hallway either of you on your way to the shared bathroom, there was a sense of togetherness that went beyond the differences in your respective hockey careers. Despite the small gulf between the PWHL and the NHL, Matthew treated you with the same kindness and respect he showed everyone else, his humility a bit of a contrast to the fame and fortune that often came with his profession.

It was in those quiet moments before the day's chaos descended upon you both, you found yourself drawn to his genuine warmth and sincerity. There was something comforting about his presence, a sense of familiarity that eased the loneliness of being away from home for the first time. And as you navigated the intricacies of living together under the same roof, you couldn't help but appreciate the unexpected friendship that blossomed between you two.

However, amidst the hustle and bustle of coordinating your busy schedules, there came an evening when fate seemed to throw a curveball, causing a brief clash of your lives.

The evening had been planned with meticulous precision—a night in with Aryne and the children, Jace, Ax, and Rae, while Matthew and John were away for training and later dinner at Mitch’s restaurant. It was a rare opportunity for you to unwind and enjoy some much-needed downtime in the midst of the chaos of professional hockey.

As Aryne then tended to the children, you did your best to assist in the bedtime routine, hoping to ease the process. Yet as the minutes stretched into hours, it became clear that Ax was proving to be a bit more resistant to sleep than anticipated, followed by Rae's unexpected awakening, requiring Aryne's undivided attention.

So, realising that your help wasn't really making much of a difference, you decided to call it quits and head for the sanctuary of a long, leisurely shower instead. With some light, cheery tunes playing in the background of the basement-level bathroom and the flicker of candles casting dancing shadows around, you allowed yourself to fully immerse in the moment, embracing the rare chance for self-care that your busy life didn't often afford.

And as the warm water enveloped you, washing away the day's stresses, you found yourself getting lost in the simple pleasure of the moment, lathering soap onto your skin and massaging shampoo into your hair. Lost in the bliss of the shower, you found yourself singing along to the music, your voice blending with the gentle rush of water. And upon stepping out of the shower and continuing with your night-time routine, you remained lost in thought until Matthew suddenly burst through the door.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n!" he exclaimed, swiftly shutting the door again.

Caught off guard, you didn't even manage to cover up your naked body in time, and while blushing a little, you realised you must have forgotten to lock the door, assuming he wouldn’t be home before you had gone to bed. So, now he’d seen you naked. Yet, you did your best to shrug it off, finishing up quickly before heading to your bedroom.

Equally embarrassed, Matthew quickly retreated to his own bedroom, mentally kicking himself for not hearing you in the bathroom and barging in, assuming you’d be in bed by then. Leaning against his door, he scolded himself softly; not only had he caught a glimpse of you naked, but he also found himself captivated by your figure.

Even an hour later, tucked into bed, the image of your body still lingered in his mind, despite his best efforts to push it away. And though it felt so wrong, considering you were his roommate and friend, he couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards you.

Matthew knew he’d liked you from the very beginning, yet the labels of roommate and friend had kept his primal instincts at bay. Every day, he pushed aside any attraction he felt towards you, which had worked perfectly well, until the moment he saw you naked.

Before he could imagine you in ways he wouldn’t be as attracted to. However, now he knew just how gorgeous you were underneath your stylish sense of fashion. 

He tried to convince himself that it was due to his intense focus on his career that had made him miss female company in general, and not specifically yours. However, lying in bed with his hard-on stirring in his boxers, images of your figure persisted in his mind. And eventually, he gave in to his desires, fantasising about your body against his as he gently stroked his shaft till, he finally came all over his hand and lower torso.

_

In the days that followed, both of you still felt a lingering awkwardness in the air. Matthew, perhaps more so, given his recent thoughts about you while climaxing. Yet, you couldn’t completely shake off those intrusive thoughts either.

After that incident, you found yourself briefly considering Matthew in a different light than before as you’d settled in for the night. You couldn’t deny your beyond good relationship and then of course his undeniable attractiveness, yet you swiftly pushed those thoughts aside when your alarm interrupted your musings the next morning, plunging you back into your routine.

However, just a few days later, on a casual Friday evening when neither of you had any games, Aryne and John kindly asked if you could watch the children for them. They hadn't had a date night in a while, and they trusted you both implicitly, given how well you looked after their little ones on a daily basis.

And naturally, you happily agreed, feeling it was the least you could do for them considering their kindness towards you both.

Despite the lingering awkwardness between you and Matthew, the evening unfolded smoothly. You cooked a delightful meal with Rea offering moral support from her highchair, while Matthew kept the boys thoroughly entertained with games of mini sticks and Nerf guns, resulting in how they were so exhausted from all the fun that it didn't take much effort to settle them in for the night. Even Rea seemed to nod off more easily than usual, leaving you and Matthew with an unexpected early moment of tranquillity in the night. And it was during the final tidying up in the kitchen that Matthew decided to address the awkwardness, hoping to ease the tension a little.

"You know," he began softly as he washed the last pans from dinner. "I... I didn't see... anything..." His voice was low and calm, his eyes briefly glancing towards you as he tried to maintain a relaxed demeanour. “The other night.” 

And you couldn't help but smile at his subtle attempt to alleviate the awkwardness. "It's alright, Kniesy... it was just an accident," you replied, flashing him a smile as you dried a pot with a towel and placed it back in its spot.

"I know, I just... um... wanted to say sorry for, you know, barging in like that," he attempted a half-smile, his face still betraying a hint of awkwardness.

"And I already said it's fine," you chuckled lightly. "I mean, I should've known it could happen, considering it's just as much your bathroom as it is mine."

"Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to be home, right," Matthew chuckled as well, setting down the sponge and leaning against the counter.

"So? Come on, Matts – so what if you saw me naked? It's not like I have anything you haven't seen before,” you tried to inject some humour into the situation.

And Matthew had to admit that was true. He had seen a woman's body before, yet this felt different somehow.

"I know, it's just... you're not exactly bad looking," he grinned, but as the words had quickly left his mouth, he realised what he'd just said.

"Oh, so you did see something?" you raised an eyebrow, flashing him a soft smirk as you too leaned against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

"Um... well... maybe," Matthew gently admitted, staring into space as he tried to gather his thoughts and words under his breath. "I mean... you do have a very... fit and strong, athletic body, you know, for a female hockey player, that is..." He tried his best to salvage the situation, but as he continued to stumble over his words, he knew it was futile.

"Ah," you grinned, looking at him while he only briefly glanced your way before turning away. "So, my body is only good-looking because I'm a female hockey player?" you teased, playful hints lacing your words. You knew he was in an awkward spot, but you couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Well, no, I mean – that's not what I meant..."

"So, what did you mean?" you asked softly, offering him a sweet smile, prompting him to let out a deep sigh.

"Just that... I don't know... you have a great body, alright?" Matthew threw his arms up in defeat and turned to face you. "You're incredibly hot, and sweet, and kind, and funny – and now I think I have a crush you since I can’t stop thinking about you. I know, I'm a terrible person, so I'll be moving out, goodnight!" he blurted out faster than you expected, softly slamming his hand down onto the counter. 

You were stunned by his sudden confession, blinking a few times as you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

"You what?" you asked softly, still in slight disbelief.

"I'm sorry, y/n... I didn't mean to make it awkward between us..." Matthew sighed again, trying to meet your eyes and offer a gentle smile.

You suddenly felt your heartbeat quicken as your eyes met his, feeling a rush of emotions in the moment of his deep confession. There was no denying it any longer. Just as Matthew admitted his attraction to you, you couldn't ignore the mutual feelings stirring within you, causing you to slightly gasp for air.

Though, not entirely sure how to proceed, you took a deep breath and tried your best to speak.

"Well, maybe," you began softly, briefly glancing down before meeting his eyes again. "Maybe I don't really mind you having seen me naked..." you confessed, causing Matthew's eyes to widen a little as he tried to grasp your message. "I mean..." you carefully continued. "Had it been the other way around... I probably couldn't stop thinking about you either..."

There was a moment of silence, the air thick and heavy between you as your eyes remained locked, your breaths deep as you both processed what had just been revealed. Then, with a small step towards you, standing tall, Matthew glanced down at you with a pleading look, meeting your eyes.

However, just as you were both about to lean in, the front door clicked open, and Aryne and John entered the home, causing you both to quickly step back.

Then greeting the couple with excitement, you both shared how smoothly the evening had been, and Aryne and John recounted the romantic night they'd finally enjoyed after so long. The atmosphere felt nothing short of wonderful as you bid them goodnight, however, as you and Matthew slowly made your way to the basement, uncertainty lingered. So, with care, you both simply smiled, letting out deep breaths before saying goodnight and retreating to your respective rooms.

Yet, as you lay in bed, sleep eluded you. Thoughts of the night, the words exchanged, replayed in your mind, keeping you awake as your thoughts circled the conversation endlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew was equally lost in thought beneath his duvet, his mind consumed by the events of the night and the possibility that you might share his feelings.

And a smile tugged at his lips as he considered it, the embarrassment of earlier slowly fading away. However, his reverie was suddenly interrupted by a soft knock on his door, pulling him from his thoughts. And curiously, he rose and opened the door, only to find you standing there in nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Whether you wore anything else, he couldn't tell.

You weren't entirely sure what had spurred you into action. While you were confident on the ice, dealing with guys was not always your strong suit. Yet, the moments shared with Matthew in the kitchen had left you yearning for more, and a newfound sense of confidence had propelled you out of bed, determined to pick up where you both left off.

No words were necessary in that moment. Your eyes and desires spoke volumes as you stood before his almost naked form, his tall, athletic figure towering over you in just his boxers. And already by then, arousal stirred within you, sending tingles through your core, parting your lips as you held his gaze, your breaths deep.

So, with deliberate movements, Matthew stepped aside, silently inviting you into his room.

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. In the silence, the sensual tension hung heavy in the air as you turned to face Matthew, slowly pulling your t-shirt over your head, revealing your bare breasts and lacy knickers.

Matthew felt a surge of desire course through him as his eyes drank in the sight of your naked body, this time intentional and for a longer duration. And the mere thought that this time he could actually have the chance to feel you against him spurred him into action, closing the distance between you to capture your lips with his own.

The moment was nothing short of exquisite, a tender intimacy as your mouths moved in harmony, tongues meeting and tasting each other gently. Matthew's hands cupped your face with his large palms, while your own hands explored his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

And soon, the hunger and eagerness escalated. Giving in to temptation, you cast aside any concerns about your living situation and roles, feeling the heat ignite between you. Your bodies pressed together, skin against skin, as Matthew gently guided you onto his mattress, lying on your back, lips never parting.

In a hovering position, Matthew pressed his body against yours, his hardened member brushing against your core as the kiss intensified. It was a desperate longing shared between you both, and as if by instinct, you wrapped your legs around his lower torso, fingers tangling in his brown locks as you pulled him closer, signalling your mutual need for each other.

And as you both reluctantly pulled apart, gasping for air to refill your lungs, Matthew then took a step back, his eyes locked on yours, as if waiting for any objection, before he lowered his boxers, revealing his proud, hard length.

Yet, you didn't object. Instead, your deep desire for him couldn't be suppressed, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with hungry eyes. And your expression only spurred Matthew on, his lips moistening as he knelt before you, gently hooking two fingers under the hem of your underwear and pulling them off.

It was a moment where a line would be crossed, where there was no turning back, but neither of you could deny the longing for it. With another quick, hungry kiss shared, Matthew then began to gently trail kisses down your jawline, across your collarbone, and down to each of your breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his hand explored the opposite breast. And slowly, he then continued his descent, passing your navel and reaching the top of your heat.

You couldn't help but release a deep breath as your eyes followed his every move, instinctively falling back onto your back as soon as his mouth made contact with your sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"Oh yes..." you panted, as Matthew hooked his arms around your hips, keeping you in place while he allowed his mouth to explore your most intimate area, tasting every essence you offered, relishing in the sweet moans he caused you to emit.

It was nothing short of incredible as he pleasured you between your legs, your body responding instantly, curls tightening while one hand sought his hair to tug on, and the other reached for the pillow behind your head.

Whether it was solely his oral talents or the fact that you hadn't been with a man in a while, you quickly felt the rush of pleasure building within you, the knot in your tummy tightening as your mind became clouded. And you had to bite down on your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, mindful of the other couple and their children in the house. Despite being in the basement, you knew the walls weren't entirely soundproof.

And as Matthew continued his oral ministrations, you had to close your eyes, tilting your head back and surrendering to the rising sensation of ecstasy. Then sensing your erratic breathing and the silent cries of pleasure, Matthew freed one arm to allow two fingers to press against your entrance, easing them in.

"Mmm, fuck yes..." you moaned in a soft whisper as he skilfully multitasked, sucking on your clit while pumping his fingers in and out of your core, stimulating your walls. And it didn't take long, with his fingers curled and his mouth working wonders, to push you over the edge, eliciting a husky whisper of pleasure.

Suppressing the urge to moan loudly was challenging as waves of pleasure washed over your body, but you knew you had to, so you pressed your heels into the mattress and let yourself go, releasing your juices all over Matthew's mouth and fingers.

"Oh my god... Oh my god," you gasped for breath as you slowly came back to reality, immediately covering your head, the intensity of the pleasure causing you to squirt.

But Matthew could only chuckle lightly as he pulled away from your deliciousness, his face glistening with your essence as he gently withdrew his fingers. "Why are you saying sorry?" he whispered huskily, a proud smirk gracing his handsome features as he admired your flushed body beneath him.

"I just... I've never..." you breathed out, removing your hands from your flushed face.

"Oh," Matthew simply responded, his smirk widening as he felt a surge of pride. "Well, baby, never be sorry for that... ‘cause it's just fucking hot."

With that, he leaned in for another hungry kiss, allowing you to taste yourself as arousal surged between you. The kiss quickly became messy, as if all insecurities and uncertainties had vanished, leaving nothing but hunger and desire in their wake.

And as Matthew then pulled back once more, both of you gasping for air, he slowly got off the mattress and retrieved a condom from his bedside table before returning to cover himself up. Your eyes followed his every move, and as he returned to a missionary position, connecting your lips once more, your body instantly surrendered to him.

It felt as though the heat in the room was causing your bodies to simply meld together as he effortlessly slid his length inside you following your intense orgasm. Mentally thanking him for the incredible climax, you felt your core envelop his larger member, turning into a pool for him as he began to rock his hips, stimulating your walls with perfection once more.

Matthew knew he was well-built, his cock matching the rest of his size, and as he felt the tight warmth of your embrace around him, he saw nothing but stars. Your muscles felt incredible as he let his shaft glide in and out of you, his fingers gripping the sheets on either side of you as he uncontrollably picked up the pace.

And with each thrust, each surge of force, your moans mingled softly, both of you mindful of the noise level. Yet the pleasure was almost overwhelming, consuming you entirely. Your fingernails dug into the skin on the back of Matthew’s shoulders as he pounded into you, the tip of his cock hitting your G-spot repeatedly. And as the stimulation unintentionally caused you to clench around him, it only propelled him closer to his own climax.

With the sound of your bodies colliding, mixed with your soft cries and whimpers, Matthew couldn’t help but increase his speed and force once more. And with several more thrusts, he sent you both over the edge, causing you to release a deep breath as you sank back into the mattress, your eyes closed while his name fell from your lips. Meanwhile, he let out a deep grunt as he released himself into the condom, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

It was a moment of pure pleasure as the euphoria consumed your minds, your sweaty and heated bodies collapsing together. And only slowly, you both found your way back to reality, regaining your senses and catching your breath.

Then when Matthew finally found the strength to rise again, you couldn’t help but share smiles in the dim light of his bedroom. It was nothing short of blissful, having finally given in to the intense desire for each other. And though you knew you might have crossed a line in your living situation, in that moment, you didn’t care.

Instead, you simply relished in the feeling of your bodies connected as you regained control of your breathing. Yet eventually, Matthew had to gently withdraw from you and went to the bathroom to discard the condom. 

And lying on his bed, your body still tingling from the pleasure, you too found the strength to join him in the bathroom, where you both helped each other clean in the shower. Your movements and touches remained slow and soft, but your kisses were deep and passionate. And with Matthew's strength, he effortlessly lifted you into his arms before pressing you against the cool tiles and deepening the kiss even further.

Never in your life had you slept as soundly and deeply as you did that night, wrapped in the arms of Matthew Knies.

_

You knew it wouldn't be long before Aryne and John caught on to your little fling. Despite your efforts to keep it low-key while focusing on your careers, living in such proximity made it easy to sneak into each other's rooms for late-night or early-morning activities.

So soon enough, things came to a head when the number of used condoms began to pile up in the bin, and the truth couldn't be ignored any longer when Aryne accidentally stumbled upon the evidence of your interactions.

It was then that you all agreed that perhaps one or both of you should start looking for your own place to stay. There were no hard feelings, as neither Aryne nor John were upset about how your relationship had developed. However, it was clear to everyone that having two young adults attracted to each other under the same roof was perhaps a bit too much for the family of five.

#my asks #18+ smut #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey smut

[accio-victuuri]

4/29 candies to enjoy ^^ 🍭🍬🍩

this was a busy day for us cpfs. so i’m gonna compile some bits that made our cpn-senses go off! 😂

the most obvious, and my fave, because of how it follows the pattern is them not overlapping their releases. i thought gg was gonna release the gucci stuff at his usual 10:05 or 10:10 but he didn’t. that’s because wyb had jeanswest release on 10:30. i love how that was given it’s time till 13:00 when gg posted the ad. i’m clowning cause 13 is yizhan! and then 13:20 will be the weibo live for FPU, which was kinda delayed too when it went on. some more materials for GUCCI was released throughout the day but moreso on international platforms.

it’s hilarious cause i saw a hot take from an xz anti before who said he is “afraid” of doing stuff alongside wyb. that is their perception. lol. but i think even if you don’t believe in the whole cp thing, maybe it’s professional courtesy? maybe these two are friends and have this unspoken rule? 🤷🏻‍♀️

tho i was very happy to see them both pop up on my weibo opening screen! and to experience them having these international campaigns, for wyb, lacoste recently— makes me proud. 😌

a funny cpn from today is this parallel. in a segment at FPU, there was a moment where a fan said jiayou and wyb said cheering is not always necessary. It reminded us of that time xz was told to jiayou when he was about to go to the restroom and he’s like???? why do i have to jiayou???

oh these two. 😂😂😂

yibo is the resident gremlin who always has a smart ass reply or some savage comeback for you but xz usually doesn’t. but we know what he has that in him too and i wish we could see more of that!

bonus cuteness before we proceed, this edit of them looking like they are doing the choreo for jisoo’s flower 🌸 and they are BP fanboys so it fits!

now some double standards. in the movie channel interview, they were asked where they first met, and wyb couldn’t remember. compare this to how he was with xz! he was always very proactive that they met in ttxs!!!!

there was also a part where they were asked to give an example of what they wanna learn from each other. and if they communicated to learn. so HJY said street dance and WYB said jiu jitsu but they both weren’t able to learn from each other. in the meantime, wyb taught xz a dance routine 😂😂😂 among other things. i’m sure yibo will be more than happy to help someone out, but i think you have to be at a certain level of closeness to him. or he is really comfortable with you.

this last section is for the beaded bracelet. i think it’s time to discuss it again because this is the 3rd time he is seen with it. so this looks like something personal for him. tho i have to say, you have the coco crush which is both personal and part of him promoting chanel too. i’m invested in this cpn and at the same time frustrated because of the questions.

( p1: him wearing it for the fpu bazaar magazine shoot // p2: worn during the movie channel interview // p3: what so/os are saying is the bracelet not that it matters cause i can clown this too )

1. i hate how no wardrobe accounts have confirmed what it is. and i kinda understand cause we never see it fully, plus there is cpn attached to it so they are extra careful. which is also another source of my frustration. why does he wear it when he has long sleeves on??? he was wearing a shirt earlier and his arms were bare! but wait.. he changed his clothes and as soon as he had something to sort of cover it, the bracelet was on. 💀💀💀💀

it’s like he is purposely clowning us!

2. if this was a jewelry to show off and promote Chanel, why can’t we see it well? and i want to see the change in the beads’ color to confirm if it is what the solos say it is.

i’m also side eyeing international solos who are proudly commenting how wyb’s bracelet is luxury and not some cheap buddha beads like xz’s. what? it’s such an insult to a culture that is important to yibo. those bead bracelets made in specific temples for protection is part of his culture. he knows it’s importance and respects it. but what can i expect from solos really? lol. the bar is already very low when it comes to them but they still manage to disappoint me. 🪦

3. and if it is Chanel, i can still clown by thinking GG bought it for him so they can match. 😂😂😂 atleast with the aesthetic.

bonus: the bone necklace!!!!!

another bonus, i saw this photo of like a celebration i guess for queen of tears. and the cake! the way the actors are cutting it! lol. reminds of xz and wyb! 😂

banner edit source 圣衣雪琳

-END.

#this became longer than i intended too lol #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do