#I want all the host to go to a convention together

[fics-n-stuff]

The Interview (and the year and a half to follow)

Pairing: Eddie Munson × Steve Harrington

Summary: When rockstar Eddie Munson reveals that he's married, and to a teacher no less, his fans don't know what to do with themselves. Steve and Eddie, especially Eddie, love the chaos. And he can't help but keep declaring his love for his mystery husband.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This is a modern AU in which Steddie are in their early thirties and everyone else is aged up accordingly, and it's truly incredibly sappy. I wrote this all in one go at 2-4am before a shift at 9am, so it could be a masterpiece or it could be crap. You decide!

"My husband is a middle school teacher." Eddie had said, just trying to give the interviewer a little bit of background on his life. He hadn't expected it to set the internet on fire. 

HE'S MARRIED?? TO A TEACHER?????

I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT HIS HUSBAND COULD BE LIKE!!!

IS IT AN OPPOSITES ATTRACT KIND OF RELATIONSHIP OR IS EDDIE'S HUSBAND JUST THE MOST HARDCORE TEACHER EVER??

ONLY A LEGEND LIKE EDDIE MUNSON COULD DROP SUCH A BOMBSHELL SO CASUALLY!!

"Eds, what the hell did you do?"

"All I did was say that my husband is a middle school teacher and now everyone's obsessed with you. I think they like the idea that I have a soft side."

"You're nothing but soft sides." Steve chuckled, engulfing Eddie in his arms as they cuddled on the couch. "Maybe I should be the famous one."

"In your dreams, Harrington." Eddie scoffed, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

"If they like the idea that you're secretly a softie, maybe you should tell them that we're an emergency foster home. Or that we have seven pseudo-children."

"One thing at a time, babe. I don't want to set the world on fire."

Eddie didn't do another interview for a while. He was busy producing his band's next album, their fifth one, and spending time with friends and family between tours. But when Corroded Coffin was invited to be the musical guest on a late night show two months later, partly to promote a movie that Eddie was in (it would be his acting debut and he would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified that people would think he was absolutely horrendous), he had almost forgotten about the frenzy he had whipped his fanbase into at the reveal of the existence of his husband.

"So, a couple of months ago you let slip that your husband is a teacher." The host said to him when he sat down after performing his song, and the audience cheered. These were the questions they wanted answered.

"Yeah, a lot of people were surprised to hear that I'm married but I've been wearing a wedding ring for six years." Eddie smiled, holding his left hand up to the camera to display the simple silver wedding band on his ring finger. "I guess nobody really noticed because I wear a lot of rings."

"That's insane, you've been married for six years?" The host exclaimed, and Eddie nodded with a chuckle. "I have to ask, how did you two meet? I mean, a heavy metal rockstar and a middle school teacher are not a conventional pair."

"We met in high school." Eddie answered, and the audience awed. "Well, technically, he had just graduated high school and I was on my second repeat of senior year. We met through some mutual friends."

"That's so sweet. Isn't that so sweet?" The audience cheered at the host's prompt and Eddie giggled, his hair falling into his face. "Was it a love at first sight thing? How did you end up together?"

"Um, kind of. It was strange, he was a popular jock in high school and I was about as weird and unpopular as they got, but once we got to know each other outside of school we clicked fast. And he's hot, like really hot, so I fell immediately." The crowd laughed.

"Wow, that's fantastic. But, anyway, I need to move on before I get carried away. Let's talk about this movie you're in."

"Yes, let's."

Steve was watching the show at home, sat on the couch with Robin on one side and Dustin on the other who were poking and teasing him as they watched the tooth-rottingly sweet interview. Robin was the one who hopped onto Twitter to see what people were saying, and, once again, social media was ablaze. #eddiemunsonhusband was trending the whole next day, and Steve and Eddie found it hugely amusing. 

Eddie slowly started opening up about his personal life after the overwhelmingly positive response to all his husband talk. At the premier of his movie, he walked Robin down the red carpet with him, telling the interviewers that the two of them and his husband were all roommates for a few years in his early twenties. In a radio interview he did in the lead up to his album release, he talked about how he ran the Hellfire Club in high school and how he was still friends with and still semi-regularly DMed for the kids that were in the club, and he told them about how one of the Hellfire kids was the one to initially introduce him to his husband. When the album released and the band did an interview with Rolling Stone, he told them about how supportive everyone in his life was of his music. He told them about the night's he would stay up writing Corroded Coffin's first album, his husband - then boyfriend - doting on him the entire time. And all of this served to fan the flames of his follower base because, even in opening up about his life and his friends and family, he never revealed who his husband was.

Steve didn't go to many of Eddie's public appearances. He never had; it wasn't his scene. And when he did, they kept their distance and kept things discreet until they were inside and there were no more cameras. When Eddie went out and released another morsel of information about his life, Steve sat at home grading papers or planning lessons and smiling to himself about his chaotic rockstar husband. 

And then it was time for Eddie to go on tour again. Steve hated saying goodbye when Eddie went on tour. 

The tour started in California and slowly snaked it's way across all fifty states, stealing Eddie away from their home in Indianapolis for six months. The faculty at Steve's school kept asking what was wrong in the first few weeks after Eddie left. He told them that his husband was travelling for work.

Eddie missed Steve too. Unapologetically so. For the first time on tour, he felt comfortable mentioning his husband. Every other night he brought up how much he missed him, usually as an introduction to one of their songs; one of the softer ones, off of their third album, that he wrote about Steve right after they got married. The audience ate it up every time. His bandmates always rolled their eyes and teased him after the show.

Eddie's tour landed back in Indiana right after Spring Break. Steve was thrilled to have him back, even if it was brief before he moved on to the next state. And Eddie was thrilled to know that, as he played his first night in Indianapolis, Steve was out in the crowd watching. Will, El and Mike had been out in the crowd when he played in California, Max and Lucas had come to see him in their recent new home of Chicago, and Erica, Nancy and Johnathan would be there when he played in New York City. But tonight he knew that Steve was out there in the crowd, with Dustin and Robin, screaming and cheering for him like he had from the start.

"Alright, this is the part of the show where I normally get all sappy about how much I miss my husband." Eddie said into the microphone, his skin gleaming with sweat. His fans cheered. "But not tonight. Because tonight, I'm pleased to say, my husband is here in the crowd." His fans screamed even louder. "And no matter how much you try you're not gonna spot him. You wanna know why? Because he's wearing my clothes so that he blends in with the crowd." Eddie grinned. The audience went wild. "This next one's just for you, sweetheart." 

Out in the audience, dressed in a pair of Eddie's black jeans, a pair of Eddie's bulky boots and a t-shirt from Corroded Coffin's last tour, Steve felt his heart swell.

A year after the revelation of Eddie Munson's husband came the revelation of Eddie Munson's kid. Like the chaos gremlin he is, Eddie took to Twitter on a Thursday afternoon and casually announced that he and his husband were fostering a kid with the intention to adopt.

Like clockwork, the internet set ablaze.

The eleven year old girl had been in Steve and Eddie's care three times over the past two years before the adoption, spending about eight months in their care over the three stays. Then, when Eddie had been in the last month of his tour, Steve got the call that a kid needed a place to stay. Steve had got the second bedroom ready with clean bedding, made sure the cupboards were stocked with snacks. And when the social workers arrived, the girl had launched herself into Steve's arms, babbling about how happy she was that she had ended up with Steve and Eddie again.

It was unusual for Steve and Eddie to see so much of the same kid. They were an emergency foster home, they usually only saw kids for a few nights or a couple of weeks. And it was the same with her the first time she stayed with them. She stayed for twelve days before she moved to a different home. But then she was back. Only three weeks later she was back in their care and, for whatever reason, that's where she stayed for the next five months. It had been a year since Corroded Coffin released their fourth album, and they had decided they were taking their time with the next one, so Eddie was home and not very busy and perfectly happy hanging out with the kid that they hadn't expected to have for so long.

She went back to her parents at the end of the five months, much to Steve and Eddie's disapproval. But they hoped that they had cleaned up their act and she would be going back to a more child friendly environment. Unfortunately, she was back a year later. The social workers had brought her back to Steve and Eddie and asked if they could keep her for a few months again. Of course, they enthusiastically agreed, and the three of them settled in together for the next three months until she was taken back to her family again.

The third time was the final strike. There was no way she was going to be placed back into her parents' care. Steve had volunteered them to foster her for as long as they could. She had always been a wonderful addition to the home ever since her first stay.

When Eddie got home he was thrilled to see her. He'd been filled in on the situation over call, of course, but you couldn't hug someone over the phone. It was only a couple of weeks after Eddie got home that he and Steve started talking about the possibility of adoption.

Steve and Eddie had always wanted kids. At first, they had planned on adopting a baby, but after involving themselves in the foster system and seeing the demand that there was for people to take in older kids they decided that that was their calling. The girl coming into their lives in the way that she did felt almost like fate. And so they sat her down and asked her how she would feel about the whole thing. Much to their delight, she had enthusiastically agreed to the idea, and they started the process immediately. Eddie felt like this was a major development in his life and he wanted to share it - at least a vague bit of it - and so a month later he took to Twitter.

Things went pretty quiet after that. Eddie's label was organising for a European tour, but he made sure it wasn't too soon so that he would be around for the adoption process. And that was where he put all of his energy: into his kid.

The girl attended the school that Steve taught at, and Eddie signed her up for a dance class when she mentioned an interest. Steve helped her with her homework and bought her books and had long conversations with her in which he taught her things without her even realising that she was learning. Eddie nurtured her creative side, buying her art supplies and teaching her guitar and singing Disney karaoke with her on the weekends.

Corroded Coffin was nominated for a Grammy. It wasn't their first nomination but Eddie was excited about it anyway. They hadn't won a Grammy yet, there only really being one category for metal music and plenty of artists deserving of the award.

Steve and Eddie had their first Christmas with a kid. Wayne came over like he did every year, making it a real family affair. They went overboard with the decorations and wracked their brains for the best gifts to buy. They made a gingerbread house and watched an obscene amount of Christmas movies, and it was the best Christmas they'd ever had.

The adoption was finalised at the end of January. The whole thing had been smooth sailing, Steve and Eddie having proved more than capable of taking care of a child over the years. And now they had a kid and they were officially a family and things couldn't have been better.

And then Corroded Coffin won the Grammy for Best Metal Performance. Steve and their daughter had leapt off of the couch with cheers and whoops and fists waving in the air. And after his bandmates had taken turns at the microphone thanking their management and their fans and their families, Eddie had taken his turn for a speech.

"I have so many people that I want to thank, and they know who they are. My uncle Wayne, the Hellfire kids and all my other friends from back home, all of our fans and every friend we've made in the industry. But, obviously, I want to thank my amazing husband for tolerating my chaos and the fact that I write best in the middle of the night. And I also promise to try and change that habit now that we have a kid in the house, and you're allowed to hold me to that." He gave his speech with a massive grin, trophy gripped tightly in his hands, and when he stepped off stage he split off from his band and excused himself to call Steve, who had secretly bought a bottle of champagne and Eddie's favourite cake from his favourite place to celebrate the victory (because he'd had a gut feeling that Corroded Coffin was going to finally win this one).

Then, as if it had crept up on them, it was time for the European tour, which would steal Eddie away from his husband and daughter for even longer than the US tour. 

Right before he boarded the plane, Eddie opened up Instagram, ready to cause one last stir.

The picture was one of Eddie's new favourites. Robin had taken it in their garden when she came over to hang out one random afternoon. Eddie was dressed peak rockstar, distressed black jeans and a studded leather jacket, chains dangling off him and hands covered in rings. And Steve was peak teacher, all blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, and glasses balanced on his nose. He was giving their daughter a piggyback, but the picture was from just an angle that you couldn't see her face, because she deserved her privacy even if her new dad was a rockstar. 

Now that it's all official and I find myself with this perfect little family, I think it's time to finally show you all the amazing man that I share my life with. Everyone, meet Steve.

And, for the final time, the internet went crazy. It was unanimous; they loved Steve. And Eddie couldn't blame them, because he loved Steve too.

#steddie #steveddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie au #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

[roseykat]

TITLE: Table Manners and Bible Studies

PAIRING: Jeongin x reader

SUMMARY: Jeongin, a churchgoer who is also a very sexual person, likes to immerse both you and himself in the realm of sensory play, among other things as well.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: themes of BDSM centred around sensory play, soft dom Jeongin, explicit language, use of ice cubes, body-safe hot candle wax, a feather, blindfold, safe and consensual play, nipple stimulated orgasm, mentions of religion (no specific religion is being mentioned here but the concept is that Jeongin is religious for the purposes of this work).

MASTERLIST

He goes to church. That’s all you know about one of the guys in your class who always dresses well, dons cute glasses and seems well put together. He’s an intriguing one among the masses of students that attend and even with the volume of people, he still stood out to you even if he was quiet.

However, it was never in your interest to approach a guy like him. He and his four friends, all from the same church, seemed relatively lovely and all kept to themselves. From your perspective, it appeared as if two of the girls really liked him. If they did, you don’t blame them. Whoever he was seemed to be sweet.

“Still eyeing him up?” Your friend Minho pokes you in the ribs with his finger, lulling you out of your thoughts.

“I’m not eyeing him up,” you snap defensively, averting your stare away from his group to refocus on your lunch with him.

“Just say he’s hot,” he encourages. “If I’m willing to admit it, then you should.”

“You think he’s hot?” 

“And you don’t?” He questions back, almost offended that you didn’t assume otherwise. 

“I suppose that means something coming from a whore such as yourself,” you remember with a sigh. 

Minho nods in agreement with your statement, “and as a whore, I’m telling you he’s hot. So why not go for him?” 

“That’s not who I want though,” you say to him.

A cackle nearly breaks out from his mouth, “that’s right. So how is the hunt for one of those dom boyfriends going anyway? Isn’t that the type you’re looking for?”

“He doesn’t have to be, but it would help significantly,” you answer truthfully. “I just think that would be the best way to get my foot in the door for getting into BDSM.”

“I seriously don’t know where you got that idea from, but you don’t need to go searching for a boyfriend who’s into BDSM to get into it,” Minho truthfully informs you. “There are sites and apps where you can connect to doms and go from there. But if you do, don’t just jump at the first dom that you see. Always do background checks.”

You sometimes forget that Minho himself is in the BDSM scene. He has been for a while and for as long as you’ve known him, you’ve always been interested in what he does. From his stories, they sound exciting and riveting; exactly the kind of thing you want to try out to make your sexual life a little more lively. 

“I know that,” you whine. “If not that, then I don’t really know where to begin.” 

“Well, we all start somewhere,” he says with a hint of optimism. “Since you’re interested still, there’s a BDSM convention at the end of this week. If you want to get your foot in the door with it, I reckon you should go.”

“A convention?” You ask with intruigue. “What do they host there?”

“They’re there to promote safe BDSM to people and have a variety of pop up stores on site that sell anything related to it,” he answers. “I’m supposed to be going but, I’ve got something else on at the same time. In fact you can have my concession.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s already printed off,” he says. “I’ll give it to you on Thursday.”

It was a good idea at first, but come the day of the event, your nerves were shot. It was your first time being surrounded by anything like this. Particularly by yourself. It was a bit stereotypical to assume that the convention was run something along the lines of seeing naked people tied up, some in cages, or live scenes taking place in front of crowds. 

That wasn’t the case at all. It was almost like a niche grocery store where the locals gather to buy homegrown fruit and veggies. Some part of that concept helped calm a few nerves.

Once you receive your concession band, you start around the front area of the pop-up stores. People were lining up to see demonstrations of shibari methods and most were interested in buying a series of items for the bedroom. 

They were all displayed like sea creatures at a fish market, waiting to be bought. From cattail butt plugs, clover nipple clamps, juicy erotica novels - one of which you picked up - lengths of different coloured ropes, wooden floggers, riding crops, and so much more. 

Away from all the chaos at the stalls was an area called BDSMC; BDSM and coffee. It was a way to set people up with potential doms and or subs. Each individual looking for a buddy would order a coffee or drink with a green cup that had either letter on it; D for dom or S for sub. Red cups were exclusively 'do not approach' because the person either didn’t want to engage or they may already have a partner and are just there for some good coffee. 

It was an awesome set-up and had you thinking about heading over to maybe find someone who would be interested. However, you stored away that thought as you continued to have a look around. 

One thing that was painfully obvious to you was the fact that people weren’t there by themselves. They were either there with a group or their partner, making you feel even more out of place and slightly overwhelmed. But you weren’t going to tap out early. Minho gave you his ticket not only because he couldn’t attend, but also because he wants you to experience what you’re looking for, for yourself.

So you scour out the stores under the guise of your own interest, coming across a few which struck that interest. There was one store tailored specifically to pain play, a heavy aspect of BDSM. Another stall had all to do with sexual health, consent and BDSM - not necessarily selling anything, but just there to answer any questions that people may have. 

One place had caught you attention, a store all to do with sensory play and deprivation - a term in which you’ve came across within the realm of research into BDSM.

In nicely orgasnised lines were individual packets of silk blindfolds in a variety of different colours. There were boxes of body safe candles, most likely for temperature play, noise cancelling headphones, sleek metal handcuffs, and other items that had you wondering how they work. 

“Hello, anything I can help you with or just browsing today?” One of the shop owners approaches you from behind the table. 

“Oh, just browsing thank you,” you reply back to her.

“No worries, let me know if you need anything,” she smiles back at you and walks down to the other end of the long table. 

“Hello, do you have any of these in black?” A person beside you asks to another store keeper. 

Out of sheer interest, you briefly look up at the person just as an unspoken social acknowledgement while the owner tends to their new customer. But to your absolute shock and surprise, the person enquiring happened to be someone very familiar.

The jet black hair, distinct glasses, the trendy casual outfit...

…there was no way.

“We should do. I’ll have a look around in some of our storage containers just behind the back for you,” she says helpfully. 

“Thank you,” the customer responds. 

It was definitely him, and whilst your eyes had been glued to his presence for such a long time, his gaze catches onto it. 

“Hey,” he spoke in a mousey volume.

You stall in your step a bit just as you were about to walk away to remain unknown, but the angelic purity in the tone of his voice lulled you back. You’d feel bad if you didn’t greet him too. 

“Hey,” you say to him awkwardly. “How are you?”

“I’m good thank you, yourself?” He asks back. 

“Yeah, good thanks. I know you, sort of. Aren’t you in my class?” 

It was a useless question to ask considering you’ve spent too many times looking at him to know that it’s definitely him. That distinct soft expression couldn’t pass you by. The only thing different is that he wasn't swarmed by his usual collective of friends.

A small smile spreads on his face, “yeah. I’ve seen you here and there. You usually sit close to the front.” 

“That’s right,” you nod, bewildered that he knows who you are and where you sit during class. “So…what brings you…here of all places?”

Jeongin shrugs with a smile, “interest. You?”

You nod, “also interest.”

The lady pops back from behind the screen with some items, “you might be out of luck. We’ve only got grey and white left but there’s a couples' one for you and your partner here.”

Your mind stutters upon hearing those words come out of the lady’s mouth, “oh he’s not - we’re not-“

“What about any more of these? Preferably in black as well?” Jeongin picks up a baby pink coloured blindfold and presents it to the woman. He seemed to have saved that awkward statement yet wasn’t entirely effected by it as you were.

“I’ll have a look around the back again and see if we’ve got anything,” she says, quickly rushing off.

“Sorry about that,” he says apologetically to her. 

He was as nice as he looked. Almost like a gentle, placid puppy which makes you wonder, how is someone like him at one of these conventions. Specifically, someone who is quite religious. You didn’t want to judge right away, but that was the preface of your observation.

“I take it you’ve never been to one of these before,” he points out as he waits. 

Your shoulders relax defeatedly, someone had finally ripped down your facade, “can you tell?”

“Just a little bit,” he grins. “But props to you for coming here on your own by the looks of it.”

“A friend of mine recommended I go so I thought I should,” you respond, eyeing up some of the other products.

He nods engagingly, “really? Why did they recommend it to you if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Just…looking to get into BDSM,” you reply honestly, feeling comfortable enough to talk to him about this. Plus there was no point in hiding your intentions given where you are now. “He said I should go to one of these events, check out the stores, and see how some of this stuff works I suppose.” 

The lady returns from the back with exactly what he requested while also picking up a few extra things before paying for the lot. Your attention fixates on those items, wondering who he uses them on; a pyrex glass dildo, one tube of strawberries and cream flavoured lube, and also a ball gag

Whoever his partner is must be lucky. 

The shopkeeper bags all of the items he paid for in a discrete bag before he thanks her.

“That's a good step, but if you’re a beginner, it’d be best for you to start out small,” he advises just an idea suddenly strikes him. He wonders for a second about whether or not it’s appropriate to ask, but he considers your circumstances and why you’re even here. 

“I figured that. No point in me diving right into the deep end when I can’t swim yet,” you agree. 

“You know, because we’re both here, we should get together sometime so we can talk about these kinds of things. I could show you how all of these work too if you want,” he pitches his suggestion to you, holding up the bag of things that he just purchased. 

You stare up at him, utterly bewildered, “wait, are you serious?”

“Only if you are, otherwise-“

“No!” You cut him off. “I mean, yes - yes I am serious. It’s just, I was shocked that you even asked me.”

He stifles a chuckle as a reaction to you being so oddly yet unforceably cute, “alright then. I’ll give you my number. I’m Jeongin by the way.”

“Jeongin, okay. I’m Y/N.”

It was nice to finally put a name to a handsome face. Jeongin, who was as unsuspecting as the come, had exchanged numbers with you before you both departed. He left you wondering so much more about his personality and particularly his interests with BDSM. It even made you forget to text Minho to tell him how well the convention went.

Right before you decided that you were going to ring him, a text came through to you from Jeongin. 

To you from Jeongin: ‘Hey Y/N, it’s Jeongin. It was nice meeting you the other day. I was wondering if you wanted to catch up over coffee to talk and get to know each other more. If so, when are you free?’

You to Jeongin: ‘Hey Jeongin, it was nice meeting you as well. I’m free in the afternoons throughout the week. We could go for coffee on campus after class if it’s not too far?’

Jeongin to You: ‘Nope, that’s perfect. Shall we say Monday straight after? We can head there together.’

You to Jeongin: ‘Sounds good to me. See you then.’

Jeongin to You: ‘Yup! :)’

With those responses from him in mind, it made looking forward to Monday a little more palatable. Usually, it’s hectic with quizzes, tonnes of readings, and a boring two hour lecture. Meeting up with Jeongin meant you had something to look forward to after class. 

Just as the lecture comes to an end, you look back to the middle row of seats in the centre section of the room as you pack up your things and see Jeongin waving out to you. You wave back, acknowledging that you’ve seen him and watch him say bye to his friends before he makes his way down to you. A couple of them seemed rather puzzled that he was leaving them, but nonetheless, they let him be. 

“Hey Y/N,” he says to you, walking down the steps. “What did you think of that?”

“Boring as per,” you groan. “It made me want to sleep.”

Jeongin laughed, “shall we go before you fall asleep then?”

The pair of you exited the theatre together and headed to one of the nearby cafes on campus. Normally teeming with hungry students, the venue wasn’t as packed as it usually is from the help of classes that run through into lunch. It meant that you and Jeongin were able to receive your drinks relatively quickly in order to sit down and start talking.

“How was your weekend?” He asks you.

You finish bringing your drink down from your lips, “not as exciting as I wished it had been. Mainly just catching up on some of the online work that we were meant to do.”

Jeongin is shaking his head but silently agreeing with you, “I don’t know why they bother giving us tasks to do online.”

“I suppose to make us suffer even more,” you guess. 

“I think you might be right, and since it’s worth credit, we have no choice,” he snickers. “But anyway, on a completely different note, what did you think of your first BDSM event?” 

“Not as daunting as I was expecting it to be,” you answer honestly. “It was pretty pleasant, to say the least, and the people I met were really nice.”

“That’s good to know,” Jeongin nods. “Usually I hear of beginners who get too overwhelmed and never come back. It’s a shame really because they only see the tip of the iceberg.”

“Do you normally attend those events?” You ask him, still immensely intrigued that he even went in the first place. 

“Only when I can,” he responds. “Most of the time, classes and other stuff get in the way, but I’ve found a balance now. What made you want to get into BDSM anyway?”

“A friend of mine is well into that space and I always hear him talking about it. Since then it’s always interested me, so I started doing some research about it,” you answer. “It was the same person who told me to go to that event.”

“Smart choice for doing your research, not many people do and just head straight into something they don’t know,” Jeongin mentally applauds you. “It can turn out to be a really good or really terrible experience for beginners.”

“Yeah, he warned me about that,” you chuckle, just thinking of Minho and what he’s said to you in the past. “What about you? How did you get into BDSM? Sounds like you’re already in that space.”

“I am. I’ve been in it for four years, since the start of my degree,” Jeongin confirms adjusting his black glasses. “I got into it just by interest as well - similar to you, except, I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing someone who was already part of this space so some things I had to learn the hard way.” 

“Then I take it that you’re relatively experienced then,” you respond, inferring an assumption already.

Jeongin smiles shyly, almost like he’s somewhat embarrassed by your comment, “you could say that. Is it right to assume that you’re looking for someone to do scenes with?”

You give a nod, “yes. Just…didn’t know who with.”

“That fits then; given that I have some experience and you haven’t yet, then maybe we do a trial, see if we click, those sorts of aspects. What do you think about that?” He asks you. 

An excitement thumps against your chest, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah?” He replies with optimism. “Then if it’s okay with you, do you maybe want to talk about some of your kinks and things that you don’t like and organise a time and place for our first scene?” 

“I’d love to.” 

Both you and Jeongin brought a lot of ideas to the table, conducting a healthy discussion about what you’re both into and not. Although he openly stated to you that he mainly presents himself as a dom, he was open to switching too. However, for the purpose of getting you into the swing of BDSM, it would be best for him to take the reins.

So with a little more talking, you both came up with a set date and time for the first scene which was to be at Jeongin’s place; not too far from campus. All the information and the logistics leading up to the scene were slightly nerve-wracking but didn’t match your level of excitement. 

Considering your inexperience with BDSM, Jeongin had to factor in what would be the best method of easing you into things. Sensory play was the one thing that came to mind. It’s not too extreme, can involve some restraints, and can act as a good stepping stone for a BDSM beginner. 

“It’s a good way to start off,” Jeongin said to you back at the cafe. “If it’s just sensory play only, people don’t usually climax from it. But if there’s some sort of sexual penetration that’s involved, then most likely. I don’t do the latter.”

“Still sounds like fun,” you replied.

“It is. I can deprive you of one or more of your senses which will only enhance the other.”

His way of describing the basics of sensory play could’ve easily put you to sleep – not because it was boring, but because his voice was so silky smooth that you could listen to it all day. The fact that he has so much knowledge about a subject was strangely erotic.

With your mind cleared in preparation for the scene, Jeongin flicks you a text an hour beforehand to see if you are still keen. He definitely knows that you are, but it’s also to cover his end as a dom to ensure that you know that you can pull out of the scene before it starts. 

To You from Jeongin: Hey Y/N, still on for tonight? 

From you to Jeongin: ‘Hey! Absolutely, I’ll text you when I’m at yours?’

To You from Jeongin: ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Even if you didn’t want to go through with it tonight, Jeongin would be okay with that. For whatever reason why you would say no, he’s happy that you would feel safe to refuse. But never in your wildest dreams would you ever think of refusing, because as soon as it was time to leave, there was no doubt in your mind that you would turn back.

You had showered and packed a bag with a towel, extra clothes in case, a water bottle, and some snacks. If anyone were to come up to you and look into your duffle, their only thought would be that you’re heading to a gym nearby, not heading to your first BDSM scene. It was a nice little secret to have. 

As you arrive on the street of Jeongin’s apartment, you text him to say that you’re nearly there and knock on the door once you’ve officially made it.

“Hey,” he greets with his smiley usual self. “Come in.”

“Hey,” you respond, looking around as you step in. 

It was rather spacious which is usually not generous with student accommodation. Normally it’s one room cramped with a desk, chair, inadequate storage underneath the single bed and a community bathroom down the hall. By the looks of it, Jeongin had all this space to himself including a small bathroom and mini kitchenette area. 

“Wow, you got lucky with student housing around here.”

“Can’t stress the word ‘lucky’ enough,” Jeongin emphasises, closing the door behind you as you take your shoes off. “Took me about four months last year just to apply for a viewing. But after living in shared accommodation on campus, I needed my own space.”

“Fair enough,” you say. “Some student spaces are lucky enough to have wallpaper. But anyway.”

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” He offers. “I bought food earlier on.”

“No it’s okay thank you, I made sure to have some water and food before the scene,” you politely refuse. 

“Okay, good,” Jeongin nods, impressed even. Those who forget to eat before a scene will often find that their energy depletes faster, rendering them unable to continue or even worse, it could go hand in hand with a sub drop. “Then in that case, shall we get started?”

Your stomach flips excitedly, “sounds good to me.”

Jeongin does the honours of leading you to his bedroom. It’s adorned with a minimalistic aesthetic and beautiful muted tones. There’s a decent queen-sized bed centred back against the wall. Laid on top of its surface is a black cardboard box and a set of black restraints right beside it in contrast with the white fitted duvet. Flickering on the bedside table burned a red candle.

From what you could gather, it was most likely for wax play, but it smelt amazing. Almost a woody with a tinge of floral essence to it that filled his room.

“We can start the scene by taking your clothes off and I’ll get these restraints ready, okay?” Jeongin suggests to you. 

“Okay.” 

He steps over towards the mattress, picking up the long restraints. Only two – one for each of your wrists that he was going to link to the bedposts. He secures the ends of them in place while you strip yourself down to your bra and underwear. You fold them over your arms as Jeongin returns to carefully take them from you and places them on his chair in the corner of the room. 

He comes back once he’s done, eyeing up your body. It’s not that he meant to gawk or observe you per se, but he was in fact silently appreciating your body. He could only just hide the fact that he’s very taken with how you look and the way you pull off a simple black bra and underwear set. 

It wasn’t lingerie, but they were intricated pieces. Jeongin seems to be aware of that when you feel him delicately glide his fingertips down the straps of your bra from behind while you stare into his mirror on the wall. 

“This is is pretty,” he says. 

You swallow quietly, content with his observation, “yeah?” 

“Yes, but unfortunately I need it off for this scene. Is that okay with you?” He asks. 

“That’s okay,” you reply clearly.

“Okay then, what’s your colour?”

“Green.” 

With your given consent in mind, Jeongin works behind your back to unclasp your bra and places it with the rest of your clothes. It’s not an awkward moment for either of you given that it was nothing in comparison to the things he had planned for you. 

“Beautiful,” he comments, his eyes lingering for a few seconds too long in the mirror. Your cheeks instantly become hotter, hoping Jeongin can just hurry up and put the blindfold over your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. “Let’s move to the bed. I’ll get you to lie down so I can put the restraints on your wrists.” 

On his instruction, you make your way over to his bed after he moves the black box to the nightstand. You sit down on the mattress edge and prop your legs up until you’re able to lie down flat with your head on his pillow.

Jeongin slightly manoeuvres each of your arms before strapping your wrists into the restraints and for a couple of seconds there, you’re in your own mind. It still baffles you that you struck gold with Jeongin by absolute chance. Not to mention he’s the same person who attends church and goes to bible studies and is the same person who’s tying you to his bed. 

“Not too tight?” He checks in with you. 

“Nope, that’s fine,” you reply. 

Jeongin takes the lid off of the box on the side and takes out the silk black blindfold he purchased from the convention the other day, “okay, I’m going to place the blindfold over your eyes now.”

You nod as total darkness shields you from the predictable. Now you can’t see what’s coming next. The excitement and anticipation hinder all nervousness you’ve been feeling while Jeongin takes a moment to appreciate the state that you’re in. It’s not often for him to be so taken with a person to the point where he just about forgets what he’s doing.

Only then does he realise that he’s in a scene and needs to refocus. 

Once he’s content with everything, he decides to move on, “now we can start.” 

He goes back to the box, careful not to make too much sound so that you can’t grasp a hint of what might be inside. The first item he picks up is a long, spindly black feather. It’s simple yet very effective, responsible for creating that ticklish sensation when he dances it lightly and softly along your skin. On its first contact, your nerves try to anticipate where Jeongin will take the feather next, but their guesses come up short when he uses it somewhere else. 

The feather glides from the base of your throat, downwards and in between your tits. Jeongin then uses it to delicately lick over your nipple, making you keen slightly to one side. You can’t help but suppress a moan by biting down on your lip. It shouldn’t feel this good too early, but you can’t help your body’s natural reaction to the feather that leaves tingles in your muscles throughout its wake. 

The smile on Jeongin’s face indicates that he’s enjoying watching you squirm and quietly whimper, still teasing you with the black plume. He drags it from the tips of your toes, up your shin, and right over your clothed pussy, making you press your head back into the pillow. 

Jeongin makes a mental note of that reaction and smirks. To him, those small effects of what he’s doing to your body with only a feather, make him wonder how sensitive you really are. But it’s not his whole desire to spend too much time with it and proceeds to move on to something else; the hot wax. 

After placing the previous item in the box, Jeongin swaps it for the candle. The catcher has collected a substantial amount of wax at the bottom which will allow him to pour the majority of it out before it starts to solidify. But Jeongin stalls for a moment as he tries to make up his mind on where to pour first. 

In his opinion, he wants to cover all the sensitive parts that you’ll let him. Your tits, collarbone, throat, tummy, wherever. Eventually, however, he knows he’ll get to those places. So he starts with your tummy, watching the hot wax drip and dribble onto your skin, hardening as it makes contact. 

A gasp is forced out of your mouth, “s-shit-“

“Too hot?” Jeongin asks you, pulling back the candle before he goes to pour again. 

“N-No,” you shake your head fervently. “J-Just wasn’t expecting-"

Jeongin pours a steady line of wax in between your tits, prying your mouth open for slightly quiet yet strained moans to roll from the base of your throat.

He expects you to have some sort of reaction to the hot wax, but not like this. Usually, people try to escape from the head, some swear like sailors, and others might scream or yelp. You on the other hand…it makes him wonder if you’re a masochist with the way you’re moaning from the slight pain. 

Nonetheless, he drips more wax, this time down your abdomen, forcing you to purse your lips to suppress any sound.

Despite the temperature of the thick content, your brain, for whatever reason, deduces it as a good sensation rather than a bad one. It does burn a bit, but not to the point where you feel like you need to call for a break. That feeling when it settles into the skin where it’s magnificent and warm is too good to pass up, allowing you to keep going.

With the session barely in full swing, you’re trying to keep it together for Jeongin so that hopefully he’d invite you back for another. Yet, within the second you even start thinking about that, Jeongin pours some of the wax, just about the line of your underwear, making you tug hard on the restraints. 

“Fuck – oh my god,” you groan, feeling the heat emulsify within your lower half. It spreads beautifully, just where you want it. “That feels…” 

“Good?” Jeongin asks, making your back arch slightly when he drips more wax from your sternum to just above your belly button. There are some areas that he won’t cover with the wax since he wants enough sensitive space for the next part of the scene. 

“Y-Yes.” 

Since Jeongin has some verbal confirmation from you that the heat feels good, his indication of pinning you for being a masochist grows stronger. It’s not abnormal, but it’s rare. Not everyone is a fan of pain and some even find it confusing when it’s applied in the bedroom.

That’s not Jeongin though. He appreciates pain and pleasure in a controlled environment. In saying that, he cannot make a full observation of whether or not you’re a full-blown masochist. He’d need to actually ask you first and run other ‘tests’ to achieve a result. 

In light of the pain, Jeongin makes use of the little wax he has left, steadily pouring it onto the underside of your tits – close to where you want it. When there’s no content left at the bottom of the catcher, he moves on once more. This time, to a completely opposite temperature. 

He sets the candle back down on the nightstand, leaving it to continue burning so that the aroma fills the room rather than smoke if he were to blow it out. You then hear his footsteps shuffling around to the other side of the bed, making you wonder what it is that he’s doing. But despite tuning your ears into his every movement, Jeongin makes sure to be as careful as he can to ensure that you don’t know what’s coming next. 

The one thing that you hadn’t noticed in his room the second you walked in was a mini tin bucket of ice cubes on the other side of his bed. He gave away zero hints towards his next move, so when he quietly picked up one of the cubes and immediately placed it just above your tits, you suck in a huge gasp. 

“Geez, I wasn’t ready,” you sigh out some of the anticipation that’s building inside of you. 

Jeongin smiles, “good.” 

The areas of your body that are free from the hardened wax allow him to glide the ice cube gently over your skin. The temperature in comparison to the wax is electrifying, more so than what you ever would have anticipated – had you known it was coming. 

Jeongin watches the ice cubes melt from your body heat, seeing the droplets of water pool for a second and run down your sides. When the first cube has melted down completely, Jeongin picks up another. This time, he drags it slowly above the band of your underwear again. 

“Mm! Fuck…” you exclaim loudly, trying to conduct the sensation when it only just builds. “S-Sorry.” 

“You’re okay,” Jeongin reassures you. 

He then brings the ice cube up to one of your nipples, causing you to arch your back and tug on the restraints simultaneously as a sharp gasp leaves your mouth. The corners of Jeongin’s mouth perk up at your reaction. He doesn’t want to be too predictable and switch to your other nipple. Instead, he manages to pick up another ice cube and uses it on your other nipple, dancing it around your sensitive buds that have begun to stiffen and perk up.

Your poor brain is confused by the stimulation. It’s not happening between your legs but you can feel it from your chest. It feels weird not to be contracting around anything, which only makes you wish you were. Nonetheless, it’s still valid stimulation that you feel building and at first, you’re not sure if it’s an orgasm that’s forming or if it just feels good. 

Regardless of the matter, you can’t help it. It’s patterning the pleasure for you to experience without you having any say in it whatsoever. Your mind is muddled with what to say – how to express how you feel or what’s happening to your body. 

Jeongin has some idea of it now that he’s been listening to you panting and watching you writhe on his bed just from a couple of ice cubes. However, he wants to see how this plays out. 

“J-Jeongin,” you mumble, sucking in small breaths of air. “I’m…”

His ears spring up at the sound of his name, but he refrains from saying anything at all. Instead, he picks up another ice cube, allowing the one in his left hand to melt away before applying the fresh one. The chilly sensation replenishes but it doesn’t stop that sensation that you can feel in your tits all the way through to your pussy. Even though it feels similar to an orgasm, it triggers zero verbal response when it decides to hit you out of nowhere. 

Jeongin sees your mouth part, your legs bracketing together like they’re trying to find something to clamp around. All the while, he doesn’t stop stimulating your nipples with the cubes until your back is flat on his bed again. He had to see it through to the end. 

Breathless and slightly dazed as you were, the first thing that came to mind was that you did in fact cum. Following that came anxiously wondering what Jeongin’s reaction was.

At that, an invisible weight of embarrassment starts tugging you down. You wanted the blindfold to remain over your eyes, terrified of meeting whatever expression was laden on Jeongin’s face. There was no point in trying to gauge how he reacted when you orgasmed, but there was one thing for sure and that was he didn’t stop you from doing it. 

A few lingering moments later, Jeongin becomes satisfied with the tail end of the scene. He got through the aspects of sensory play that you both wanted to cover from the conversation you had at the beginning of the week.

He gently removes the silk blindfold from your eyes, fixing some of your hair in the process to get it out of your eyes. Even though your eyes shy away from his face, Jeongin can easily see the deep red burning through your cheeks. 

“I’ll get these off for you,” Jeongin murmurs, already freeing one of your wrists from the restraint before moving on to the other.

Once you’re completely unrestricted, you sit up straight away and start blabbing out an explanation to him. 

“Just so you know, I didn’t have other intentions going into this,” you speak quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting to…to-“

Slightly taken aback, Jeongin had to step in to reassure you that there’s nothing wrong, “Y/N, it’s okay, seriously. It’s not your fault that your body couldn’t help but do what it needed to. But you’ve just come out of a scene and I want to make sure that you’re ok-“

“Yes but, you said the other day that people don’t usually climax from sensory play only,” you interrupt him. 

He softens a bit, a small grin forming on his face, “I said ‘usually’ not ‘never’. I didn’t rule out that possibility.” 

You suddenly click onto his words, “so there is a possibility that they still can.” 

“Yes, but you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about or sorry for. Some people can orgasm through nipple stimulation. It’s not always easy, but you managed to do it, with ice too, and relatively fast. Plus, I thought it was cute,” he responds. 

‘Cute?’ If melting from embarrassment was a thing, you’d be a puddle all over his floor. Your face comes to fall into your hands, almost making him giggle. 

Jeongin then continues, “now, if you’ll let me help you, I’ll show you to the shower to get some of the wax off. Then we can have some of that food I was talking about earlier.” 

-

A/N: again, this was meant for Kinktober but my dumb ass didn’t upload it. I’m turning this into a bit of a slow burn series, but not just yet because I’m working on other things atm as listed down below:

1. Noxious Compulsions

Minsung x reader (you can find the snippet here)

2. Foul Play

Part 2 to Don’t bite the hand that feeds you

3. Venom Eater

Part 2 to Venom Biter

4. Some things are better left known

Part 2 to ‘Some things are better left unknown’

These are the main pieces that I’m working on at the moment bc they will be quite dense, and I try to add as much detail in as I can. However, there are 100% other things that I have still sitting in my Doc’s folder that I’ll release too!

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n 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

[jordyn14]

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all | Joe Burrow

Summary: After a terrible start to a day that had such high hopes, two people do something that should lead to an even worse day, but in ends up better than it started.

Pairing: Joe burrow x first person fem reader

Words: 5058

Notes: this fic is kind of all over the place, but I didn’t want to split it up into 2 fics. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

The Bengals season was officially over following the win against the browns on January 7th, though we all knew it was over after the loss against the Chiefs on December 31 which kicked them out of playoff contention. In honor of adding another season into the books, Sam was hosting a little party for any player or friend of a player who wanted to come today. To say the day was not going great so far was the understatement of the century. First, as soon as I woke up in the morning, I stepped in some fresh poop from Mike, the cat I got Joe for his birthday, who apparently forgot where the litter box was. Because she's new-yes, she, Joe named her after Mike the Tiger at LSU-and I absolutely adore her, I shook it off and took a very in dept shower, making sure to scrub my feet extra good in order to rid myself of it completely.

Next, during breakfast, I was transferring my eggs onto my plate after putting some on Joes and the handle broke off of the pan and dropped onto my feet. The eggs went everywhere on the ground and were quickly eaten by Tucker, the dog Joe got me for Christmas, who flew in immediately after hearing the commotion to see what happened. I thought I was in the clear since two bad things happened to me in a span of an hour and a half-so what else could go wrong-but that was soon proven wrong when I was carrying Joe and I's pre-workout smoothie so we could get in a light workout together in the basement, and I tripped down the stairs. Not only did I spill the smoothie all over myself and the stairs, which made for an annoying clean up, but I also face planted, which made for an awesome bruise right on my jaw.

After that, I showered for the second time, drank the new smoothie Joe whipped up for the both of us, and we got in our little workout for the day. Once done with the workout, I took Tucker for a walk and went to the grocery to store to stock up on all of the necessities. While in the grocery store, I completely forgot that I was supposed to start my period, so I got blood all over my new jogging pants Joe gifted me for Christmas and had to buy a new pair of pants at the store, along with a pack of tampons, which weren't the ones I usually buy because, ironically, they were all out.

Finally, everything seemed to be going right for me and the day turned out pretty good, until it came time to get ready for Sam's party. I did my hair and my makeup without a single problem, but then of course when I put on my new dress that I was excited for, I put it on only for me to realize the zipper broke when I washed it. Because I was on my period and very hormonal, I started to cry. My mascara got all over my face and when I tried to wipe it off, my other makeup came off with it so I had to redo it all. Plus, while crying, Joe tried to comfort me, and because I was hormonal, I got mad and told him to get away from me. What made me cry more was that Since my new dress broke, I had to wear an old one that wasn't anywhere near as pretty as the other one.

So, now, as Joe pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and prayed that this night wouldn't be a disaster like the whole day was. The party was at a little convention center in the middle of Cincinnati that has held frequent get togethers and parties in the past. Since this party symbolized the end of the season and it could be the last time some of the guys see each other, it was very special to so many of the guys. To make it even more memorable, Sam got Jeff Rubies to cater and he had one of his favorite bars set up a little bar. Because friends were invited as well, I was excited to see some of Sam's friends that I probably have not seen since college.

Once Joe put the car in park, he looked over at me with a sigh. Seeing him look at me in the corner of my eye, I looked over at him and we made eye contact. "Well here goes nothing, I guess. Let's hope this goes well." I said with a little defeated laugh, the both of us knowing how the day has been going for me. "Let's be optimistic, what's the worst thing that could happen, right? There's no stairs...that I know of." Joe said, and started to rack his brain in an attempt to try and remember if there are stairs at this place. I tried to remember with him, because if there were stairs, I was certainly doomed. "There aren't any stairs where the party is at-well, that we'll have to walk up anyway- there's an elevator leading up the floor we're on." I said, remembering exactly where the stairs and elevator were at.

Joe laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y'know, it's kind of pitiful that we even had to think about that." Joe laughed. I laughed and nodded. It was extremely pitiful. Who would need to think about if they would have to go up stairs? Definitely not many people. "It is, but with the day I've been having, It's better to be on the safe side." I said. We chuckled a little bit together before Joe turned the car off. "Sha'll we?" Joe asked. "We sha'll." I giggled and opened up the door quickly. I stepped out of the car and then met Joe in front of the car. Because of my situation at home-having to redo my makeup-we were about 30 minutes late. Luckily Sam said not to worry because he has the place until midnight, then we're kicked out.

Joe and I walked inside together and got into the elevator. On the way up, we made funny faces in the mirror on one side of the elevator and then took a funny picture that I had to promise wouldn't be posted, which I have to do with every picture I take of him. By now, he should know I won't post them. For one, I know how private he is, and I am too, and for two, I would never share these moments with anyone, other than close friends who probably have the same kinds of pictures of him in their phones.

The elevator opened up with a little ding and revealed a huge and bustling room. People were scattered around across the whole room and there were orange, black, white, and striped decorations throughout the whole room. Immediately after hearing the elevator open up, the majority of Joe's teammates looked over to see who arrived, and when they saw Joe, they all began to hoop and holler and call out his name, excited to see him. With a smile, I let go of his hand and went to go find some of the wags, mainly Gracie and Tianna since both Holly and Morgan were out of town with their husbands.

It didn't take long for me to spot Tianna who was messing with Cody who had a far from amused look on his face. When Tianna spotted me, she immediately stopped annoying Cody and ran over to me excitedly. "Finally! It's been boring without you!" She yelled and hugged me. "Girl it's only been 30 minutes." I laughed. "Uhm...exactly." She said and emphasized it with her hands. I shook my head and laughed at her, continuing to look around at the little buffet Jeff Rubies set up and then the little bar in the far right corner. "So, what did I miss? Anything fun or crazy happen?" I asked, needing to be caught up on any of the tea that I missed while I was gone.

Tianna gave me a look and signaled for me to come and sit down at their table, so I followed. "It's not really with the team, but apparently one of Sam's friends just got cheated on. He's here and a bunch of people were talking about it when they first got here." She said. My mouth dropped open in interest and I looked round to make sure I didn't see Sam anywhere. "Who? Maybe I know him from college." I said. Tianna raised an eyebrow and looked at me with a small smile. Why was she looking at me like that? I raised my eyebrow back at her in confusion, needing her to tell me so I wasn't confused. "Did you sleep with some of Sam's friends or something?" She whispered with a little wink. "Women-shut the fuck up, she ain't like some of your friends." Cody said.

The three of us started to laugh at what Cody said, but she continued to look at me, still thinking I might've slept with some of them. "What-no, I have been with Joe since 12th grade and we didn't cheat. Now, show me." I said. "Okay okay." Tianna said quickly and began to scan the crowd to try and find whoever it was she was looking for. I looked with her and tried to see if I recognized some of the people, but I wasn't having any luck. So far, none of the people looked familiar except for the players and their wives or girlfriends. "Ooh- there." Tianna said excitedly and pointed at someone somewhat discretely so they didn't see. I followed her hand and spotted one of Sam's friends. I knew exactly who that was, and I wasn't too happy that he was here.

"I know him, that's Aiden." I said and took my eyes off of him. "Why do you say that in a bad way?" She asked me. Why was there a hint of attitude in my voice? Well, because Aiden and I were kind of friends back in college. This particular friend group of Sam's consisted of me, Joe, Sam, Jessica, todd, and Aiden. We were all good friends and always either studied together, went to football games together, or went out to parties together. From the very beginning, Aiden knew Joe and I were together and in a very closed, strong, and long-lasting relationship. But he just couldn't help himself from crushing on me. The crush got so big that he eventually confessed his feelings for me while drunk and tried to get me to cheat on Joe with him. To say he was persistent was an understatement and it happened more than once.

Of course I told Joe who told Sam. After that, Aiden didn't really hang out with us too much. "Let's just say he had a crush on me and wanted me to cheat on Joe with him." I said. Tianna let out a small gasp as she processed what I said and then looked at Aiden with a little scowl. "Well in that case, the jackass deserved it." She said with a little 'hmph'. I grabbed onto the drink I snagged from someone passing them out and held it up. "Now that's something I will fucking cheers to." I said with a little laugh. "Hell yes." Tianna picked up her glass and to her surprise, Cody picked up his as well. Tianna looked over at Cody, surprised that he was into this conversation since it was a girls conversation. "Really babe?" She asked. "Uhm...hell yes." Cody said. We all laughed a little at his reaction and then clinked our glasses together. After we clinked our glasses together, we each took a sip of our drinks.

We've been here for about an hour just hanging out with people and catching up, even though every single person that I'm good friends with on the team I've been texting. After Tianna, I made my way around to some other people before finally sitting down at a table with Ja'marr, Tee, and Sam. Joe was sitting down with us too until he left to go get him and I drinks at the bar.

"So, Mrs. burrow….” Ja'marr said and leaned back in his chair. I raised my almost empty glass to my lips and said a small, "Mr. Chase?", before taking a sip, trying to figure out what he was going to ask me. "What are the chances that baby Burrow makes an appearance this year?" Ja'marr asked me. I set my drink down and shook my head at him with a little laugh. From around the small table, Tee and Sam just listened to our conversation, who obviously were both aware of what Ja'marr was going to ask me before he said it. "Slim to none." I gave him a short and sweet answer, although I knew he would pry and want more from me. "And why is that? I mean come on, everyone else is doing it." Ja'marr said. "Unless I accidentally miss a birth control, which I never do, or by some miracle I just so happen to get pregnant, it's not gonna happen this year. Plus, I’m not everyone else." I said.

This has been an ongoing conversation between Ja'marr, Joe, and me for a while now. Ja'marr is fully convinced that it's time for Joe to knock me up, even though we disagree completely. "Come on, why? You've been married long enough." Ja'marr added in. "Some people have plans jackass." Sam added in. I looked over at Sam and pointed at him. Ding Ding Ding. "Exactly, thank you. We have had a plan for a long time, and a baby, while it's included in that plan, isn't listen for a long time." I said. Ja'marr just glared at me jokingly for a few seconds. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a baby and I would want one right now if not for football. Joe and I are at the perfect age to have children, but Joe is currently in his prime years of his career. It would be completely unfair to ask him to juggle being a new father and being an amazing quarterback all at once.

It felt like Ja'marr and I were having a staring contest. Both of us tried not to laugh or blink, until Tee interrupted. "I mean this with no disrespect, but If you don't want to get knocked up by Joe, I think that bartender over there will gladly volunteer." Tee said and signaled over to the bar. I turned my head in the direction he was signaling to. It only took me a few seconds to spot Joe who was standing at the bar. The bartender was mere inches away from a very uncomfortable looking Joe who kept trying to back away, but in a way that wasn't too noticeable. That boy was way too respectful. They were in mid conversation, and every time Joe would say something, she would laugh-a little too much- at whatever he was saying. I know Joe Burrow, and never have I once laughed that much during a simple conversation with him.

Now, unless he was making endless jokes, which I knew he wasn't because of his body language, that girl was just doing way too much. I glared at the two of them as they talked, a little annoyance and maybe anger building inside of me. I wasn't mad at Joe who was obviously trying to get away from her as she kept bombarding him. I was secure enough in my relationship with Joe, even though it took a while to get to that point. I was, however, mad at the girl who kept touching his arm and giving him flirtatious looks and laughs a little too often. Those flirty eyes were the same exact ones that I give Joe. I was mad at the girl's occasional glances at his wedding ring on his left hand that told me everything I needed to know: She was well aware that the quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals was married, but she didn't care one bit. Plus, she obviously couldn't tell when someone was uncomfortable or not feeling a conversation. She was obviously not a girl's girl. What a bitch.

As I continued to stare at the two of them and read Joes extremely uncomfortable body language, Joe glanced over at me. We made eye contact and immediately after, Joe's eyes widened and he sucked in his lips a little. I smiled a little bit at his plea for help and how much he was practically begging for me to go over and help him. I looked over at the guys sitting at the table who were just watching me and then Joe, interested in what was going on. "You know, girls are bitches. Excuse me, while I go save my husband." I said and scooted my chair back. "You need our help with the clean up job?" Jamar asked. "You can keep her body in my car." Sam added in. I rolled my eyes jokingly and stood up with a laugh. I headed over to save Joe from this awful conversation he was having.

While I walked over to Joe, he glanced over at the table again, but when he saw me, his face immediately lit up and he smiled slightly. The girl, seeing Joe's facial expression from his side profile, looked over to see what he was looking at. As soon as she saw me walking over, I could tell she had absolutely no idea who I was or that I was even married to joe. In her eyes, I was just another person that had a crush on Joe, like her. That still didn't change the fact that she could still flirt and give my husband the 'fuck me eyes', all while knowing he was married. Now I'm not usually one to come out and say that a girl's being a bitch, because I get it, we all have our own problems that we're dealing with, but I mean come on, to flirt with an obvious married man? Now thats low.

I looked down at Joes hands and saw the two drinks in his hand. One of the drinks was a whiskey and the other was a vodka spritzer. Perfect. Once I got to Joe, He looked down at me with his best 'thank you' eyes and handed me the drink. I grabbed the vodka spritzer in one hand, and with the other, I wrapped it around Joes waist and kissed his shoulder. "Thanks babe." I said, the both of us knowing damn well that I never call him babe-But maybe I should, because Joe's cheeks flushed red when I said it- and I knew Joe wasn't a fan of PDA but figured it was needed given the situation he was in. He never has been and he probably never will be. The only time he's fine with it is with close friends or family, so certainly not here with prying eyes. "Of course." Joe said, going along with what I was doing. After I kissed Joes shoulder and smiled up at him, I looked over towards the girl who realized who I was. Did you seriously think his wife wasn't here and watching you? Unreal.

Going along with the part, I held out my hand a little bit out of politeness and acted sorry that I interrupted their conversation. "Oh my-I am so sorry that I interrupted,” I said and then introduced myself, “and you are?" I asked, Looking down at her name tag. I read the name, 'Caitlyn'. Caitlyn knew exactly what I was doing and I could tell by her facial expression that she wasn't enjoying it one bit. "I'm Caitlyn, it's nice to meet you. We were just finishing up our conversation, you weren't interrupting." She said. I flashed a small smile her way and nodded. "Well good, I would've felt terrible. It was nice meeting you, but we should really go find Ja'marr." I said and looked up at Joe, tapping his back a little bit. Joe straightened up and nodded, "yeah-right, it was nice talking to you." Joe said.

We both started to walk away, though I could tell she was staring at us as we left. The audacity of some people is wild. "You are a literal saint, I love you so much. That was horrendous." Joe said as we walked to our table. I began to laugh as we reached our table. "Y'know, fuck her. She knew you were married and still flirted with you, why didn't you leave you pussy?” I joked with him. "I tried, but she kept talking and flirting with me to the point where I felt like I would be rude leaving her and then a news article would come out titled, 'Joe Burrow turned down talking with a fan, what a loser.'" Joe said with a laugh. The both of us laughed as we reached our table. “She can stay jealous.” I laughed. The three of them just looked at Joe and I before Tee spoke up, "wow, she’s like your knight in shining armor brother.”

"Shut up, he was just trying to be polite, some girls just Don't know how to keep their hands off of handsome men that aren't theirs." I said with a 'hmph' and a laugh after sitting down in my chair. Joe followed after me and sat down right next to me in his chair. I leaned in closer to Joe as he put one arm around my chair and sipped his drink. "There Ain't nothin' handsome about Joey B." Ja'marr said, messing with Joe like he always does. Speak for yourself. I looked over to the most handsome man here as he laughed and said, "At least I ain't as ugly as your ass." The whole table laughed as we listened to Ja'marr and Joe joke around back and forth about who the better looking one was.

Other than the incident with the bartender, the night was going pretty well. We were all talking, drinking, and having an amazing time. At one point, all of the D-linemen and O-linemen had a little game of who was the strongest, which was extremely entertaining to watch. The whole time they were competing, Joe was cracking up laughing, and not just the belly laugh. He threw his head back, his eyes were sealed shut, and he could barely breathe. It was like a breath of fresh air to see Joe having an amazing time after such a stressful and uncertain season; the injury.

Currently, I just got done in the bathroom and was walking back to the table we were sitting at. I barely got in 2 steps before I heard a voice I haven't heard in years call out my name. Everything in me told me to just keep walking and pretend like I didn't hear him, but out of politeness, I stopped and looked over at him. "Wow...I haven't seen you in forever. I was hoping I'd see you here." Aiden said. I gave him a small smile and walked over to him so we didn't have to speak too loudly. Hopefully he just wanted to say hi and let me go, or maybe even apologize for trying to get me to cheat on Joe, multiple times. Without me expecting it, he took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and wrapped his arms around me before I could even get in a word.

"Uhh...yeah, it had been a while." I laughed awkwardly as we separated. Aiden kept smiling down at me like he was looking at someone he is really good friends with but hasn't seen in a while. Don't get me wrong, we used to be friends and haven't seen each other in a while, but to want to talk to me and act like nothing went down just felt wrong and uncomfortable. "It's so good to see you, Mrs. Burrow." He said with a big smile. "It's good to see you too." I lied to him with a fake smile, unable to muster up a real one. Right after I said this, he took a step forwards, if that was even possible, making me uncomfortable and making this whole situation awkward, at least for me. I watched him as he smirked a little bit. You better not try something.

I took a step back for comfort and was about to excuse myself when he said, "you look beautiful, even more so than back in college." I furrowed my eyebrows a little bit, disgusted and appalled that even after what went down at college that he could still be face to face with me and try the same things as he did back then. One of his hands found my side and his fingers danced over my hip bone. "Joe wouldn't have any issue if we hung out for a bit, right?" He asked. Don't react, just let Joe handle it. The last thing I wanted to do was create a scene here and draw attention to myself and Aiden. I scoffed a little bit, not able to hide my disgust and disappointment any longer. "It's funny how even after I rejected you in college, you still have the balls to do it again. If I wouldn't cheat on Joe back then, what makes you think I'll do it now?" I asked him, but he still didn't take his hand off of my waist. "Oh come on, don't be like that." He said. I looked down at his hand and then tried to look past him in an attempt to see if Joe was at the table, but he was blocking my view.

All of a sudden, I saw Joe walking over to us, looking as pissed as ever. His fists and jaw were both clenched in anger. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was here so neither of us could cause a scene and draw attention to ourselves. "Get your fucking hand off of my wife." Joe said, putting one of his hands on the small of my back. I looked at Joe and gave him a little nod of assurance before looking at aiden whose eyes grew 10 times bigger once he realized Joe watched the entire thing, and his hand slid off of my waist. I watched as Aiden’s shoulders fell in submission and embarrassement, obviously thinking he was going to get away with flirting with me and putting his hand on me even after what happened in college.

"I-I-" Aiden began to say. "What? You Didn't think I'd see you flirt with my wife? Come on man, you're not that stupid." Joe said and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly that aiden winced a little bit. "I was just trying to catch up with her, that's all." He said. I backed up a little bit and stood next to Joes side. I glanced around us a little bit to see if anyone knew what was going on, but nobody even looked at us. Everyone was just caught up in their own conversations. Thank god. "How dumb do you think I am, Aiden?" Joe asked. Aiden swallowed hard and shook his head. "Look man, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll leave.." He said. "You're damn right it won't. Now, you can stay if you want, I won't tell Sam because I know he likes you-Why, I honestly have no clue-but I don’t want to ruin that. But, if you do stay, I don't want to see you near her again. Better yet, I don't even want you to look at her," joe said, and waited for a response, and when it didn't come, he added in, "you got it?" Aiden, who was obviously embarrassed, nodded quickly and said, "Yes sir."

With that, Joe nodded, took a step back from him, and began to turn slightly. Following his lead, I walked by his side and then we walked back with each other to our table that was now empty. This day just kept getting better and better. First it was the cat poop, which I wasn't even too mad about, but then one thing led to another and both Joe and I had someone flirt with us...and the both of them knew we were married. As we walked, I shook my head and sighed a little bit, just wanting this whole day to be over. Once we found our table, the both of us just sat down. "I'm sorry, baby. I cannot believe that fucker had the balls to do that for the second time. I couldn't stand to see his hand on your body, especially when you were so uncomfortable with him in the first place." Joe said.

"Hey, listen to me, Aiden is a jackass, I love you, and I'm all yours. Y'know, I hope he looks at us so he can be jealous of what he'll never have." I said with a smile and shrugged my shoulders. Joe just looked down at me and smiled. It was weird telling Joe that I was his, but I liked it. Normally there are people all over throwing themselves at Joe or accusing him of cheating to try and destroy our relationship, so telling him that I was all his felt... exhilarating, in a way. I was all his. He was all mine. And nothing or nobody could change that. Ever. I couldn't help but notice the little smirk that was growing on Joes face in place of his smile and I knew he liked when I said that I was all his. "Mmm, say that again." Joe said hummed quietly. I giggled a little bit at his reaction and said, "I'm all yours. And by the way, that whole thing with Aiden was really hot. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.”

#joe burrow #joeburrow #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow bengals #joe shiesty #joey b #bengals #joey burrow #joe burr #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe x reader #joeyb #imagine #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #nfl fan fiction #nfl imagine #burrow #fanfic

[babymetaldoll]

The annual BAU Halloween Costume Competition (Spencer Reid x fem!Bau reader)

Summary: Spencer wants to win a costume competition, but wins your heart instead.  Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Other than cursing? extreme fluff.  A/N: Happy Halloreid and Gublerween everyone!! and if you celebrate it, happy Ieroween as well!  Masterlist

No one could ever say Penelope Garcia threw lousy Halloween parties. They were always fun, with the best food and theme. Over the years, she had organized incredible celebrations for the entire BAU family. It was her moment to shine. Decorations were always spot on, the altar was always ready for pictures of long-lost loved ones. There were theme cocktails and food, but by far, the most important event of the night was the Halloween costume competition.

It had started as a joke during their first Halloween celebration, and over the years, it had turned into the main event of the night. Each year, Penelope made sure she had a prize for the winner of first place and a little something for second and third. In fact, she usually got something for everybody who participated in the party, 'cos that's the kind of host Garcia was.

And that year wasn't the exception.

The entire team was excited about the celebration. They needed a moment to relax after the last couple of cases they had had. Well, the entire team except for Spencer Walter Reid. Instead of looking forward to the celebration, he was freaking out trying to find the best costume to finally win the BAU Costume Competition. Why? because he was the only member of the team who had never won first place. Hell! He never even got second or third. He just got a participation price every year. And he hated it.

Halloween was Spencer's favorite holiday. He wasn't really into Christmas, it was too emotional and it reminded him of all the holidays he spent alone with his mother growing up, and how sometimes she wouldn't even remember it was Christmas. New Year wasn't his type of celebration 'cos he wasn't a party guy. He didn't enjoy clubbing and his definition of a fun evening included a bunch of books, herbal tea, and his couch. Not to mention Valentines. That was a miserable holiday for Reid. He never had a date that day, and the only girl he wanted to ask out was - at least according to his own words - way out of his league. So, to sum it up, Spencer's favorite holiday was Halloween and he couldn't even win a work costume competition.

He felt it was personal that year. He had to win. He had to have his moment of joy.

- "See you all guys tonight in my house!"- Garcia was beaming as she stood in front of the team that October 31st during their daily morning meeting.- "Everything is ready! We are going to have so much fun!"

- "We'll be there at seven. Savannah is very excited."- Morgan clapped his hands once and chuckled- "And you can all forget about winning this year's costume contest, 'cos me and my girl are gonna kill it."

- "I don't know, me and Will have a matching costume that could be the best one yet."- JJ smiled confidently at Morgan and Spencer frowned.

- "Do couples' costumes get more points?"- the young doctor asked, confused.

- "No, but they are fun!"- Garcia explained with a huge grin. - "Do you have your costume ready, boy wonder?"

- "Yes, and I don't mean to get cocky, but I'm sure this year you are all going to be amazed."- Reid answered with a smirk on his face.

- "No more Doctor Who then?"- Emily teased, chuckling- "You didn't knit any scarf this year."

- "My knitting skills are saved for Whovian's conventions only."- Spencer replied, making Em laugh. - "And I won't say a thing about my costume, it will be a surprise."

- "Hey, Spencer."- Garcia whispered and grabbed his sleeve as they all walked out of the briefing room, forcing him to stay behind with her.- "I was wondering if you are planning to ask (Y/N) out, or if you are going together to the party."

And Spencer's heart stopped. He opened his eyes and stared at his friend in disbelief. Not that he thought no one knew about his crush on his teammate. He just wasn't ready to deal with it just yet.

- "Ok, breathe, Reid!"- Garcia shook his arm as he nearly panicked in silence, standing in front of her. - "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, but it's getting painful to watch. She likes you too!"

- "I don't... I don't feel."- Spencer tried to rearrange the words in his head, but failed. Instead, all he managed to do was frown and sigh.

- "Wow, an IQ of 187 slashed to nothing just like that. It's amazing. You hear the legends about it, but when you see it happen, it's disturbing."- Penelope did her best not to laugh at Spencer's humiliated face. His cheeks were burning as he kept trying to explain what was happening inside his brilliant brain.

- "You don't get it, I can't ask (Y/N) out! We work together! We are on the same FBI team! What if it doesn't work? What if I lose my friend all because I thought I had a shot with her? or worse! What if she doesn't like me that way, and she laughs in my face? How do I work with her after that?"

- "But how do you live with yourself now?"- Garcia whispered after Spencer's speech.- "You are alone, loving a girl in silence. That's even worse than failing. That's just being miserable."

Spencer didn't reply. He stared at Garcia in silence as she cut him a short smile and gave him a small hug.

- "I know you love Halloween, maybe tonight could be your night."

That poor man just wanted to win a simple Halloween costume contest, and now he wasn't sure he actually wanted to go to that celebration.

Spencer took his time getting ready for the party. He had picked a Beetlejuice costume that went with his crazy natural hair. He did his makeup, put on the stripped suit, combed his crazy hair, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

- "You might not get the girl tonight, but you are getting your first prize in that costume competition."- he assured himself in the mirror before leaving his bathroom, ready to go to Garcia's.

- "Reid! Wait for me!"- (Y/N) shouted as she ran to cross the street, holding her bag and wig in place. Spencer turned and stared at her, feeling the wind was knocked out of his lungs. She looked hot. Not good. Hot. Smoking hot. So hot he couldn't help but scan her outfit up and down before he even tried to speak. She was dressed as Lydia Deetz, wearing a red dress that hugged her body in all the right places.

- "Wh... wh... w... wow."- that was all he could say when she smiled at him staring at his costume.

- "I know, right?! I can't believe we are matching!! I had no idea you were coming as Beetlejuice!"

- "I... when I... I really... wow."- Spencer was glad no one could see him making a fool out of himself. Well. no one but the co-worker he loved. Yet, he knew if Morgan or Rossi saw him, it would be worse.

- "You look amazing, Spencer!"- (Y/N) smiled and rubbed his arm as he just stared at her, trying to form an intelligent sentence.

- "Thank you, so do you."- that was all he managed to say. (Y/N) continued smiling as she walked inside the building and into the elevator. Spencer just followed her in silence, trying to make his brain function again.

- "Oh my god!! You look amazing (Y/N)!"- Garcia nearly yelled as she opened the door and found her teammates in the hall. - "And! Oh, Jesus!! You are matching costumes too! This is amazing!"- Spencer smiled, awkwardly, thinking his friend was already one or two cocktails in, which meant that in about half an hour she was potentially going to start embarrassing him in front of (Y/N).

- "So you really wanted the extra point for matching costumes?"- JJ teased Spencer as he and (Y/N) walked into the apartment.

- "You said there were no extra points!"- he replied immediately, hoping no one would start teasing him right away. Because, obviously they would.

- "There are no extra points, but there is extra fun when you get back home."- Morgan teased him, holding Savannah's waist as she stood next to him.- "Is that your plan too, kids?"

- "You guys look amazing!"- (Y/N) ignored Derek's comment and smiled at them. They were dressed as Aladdin and Princess Jazmine.

- "Not really creepy, though."- Spencer added.- "And Halloween is the night to be creepy."

- "You are creepy all year long."- Morgan's snarky comment was ignored when Garcia walked over with drinks for everybody. JJ and Will were dressed as Harley Quinn and The Joker, Rossi was dressed as Dracula, Hotch was Neo, from Matrix, Emily was Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, and Garcia was Tiffany, Chucky's girlfriend. Sergio, her cat, was walking around the apartment in a tiny Chucky costume.

If you asked Spencer, he was sure he had a chance to win the competition that year. If only he could focus on it. But with (Y/N) dressed as his character's bride, dancing with Em and JJ, he had trouble thinking clearly.

- "Ok, loverboy. How did you manage to keep it in the dark about this?"- Derek asked Spencer after an hour or so into the celebration. Reid was standing next to a table, holding a drink and staring at (Y/N) dancing, not even being subtle.

- "About what?"

- "You two are clearly together. When did that happen?"

- "What? No... we... I am... she doesn't. We aren't.... no!"- he tried to explain and failed in the process. Derek raised an eyebrow staring at him, and Reid made his best effort to explain his mind. - "We didn't plan this, it just happened. I had no idea she was gonna show up dressed as Lydia."

- "Kid, you don't have to lie anymore. I'm glad things worked your way."

- "We are not together. She doesn't... we haven't. It.. it's not gonna happen, Ever!"- Spencer wanted to storm out, but he stayed still. Instead of leaving, he turned around and looked at the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. Morgan walked a step closer and stood next to his friend.

- "You didn't plan this? You are not dating?"- and Reid just shook his head,- "And what are you waiting for?"

- "It's not gonna work."

- "Of course it won't. Not if you have a lousy attitude. She loves you, stop being a coward and kiss her."

- "Easy for you to say, no girl has ever rejected you."

- "Come on, kid. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. As far as I know, she likes you too. Now go there and ask her to dance."- before Spencer could argue, Morgan walked away. And the young doctor stood there, staring at the guacamole bowl, not able to move.

- "What caught your eyes?"- (Y/N)'s voice nearly gave him a heart attack. She just stood next to him with a big smile and stared at the food on the table.- "Hungry?"

- "I'm... I'm... the cheese board looks great."- he mumbled and mentally facepalmed himself for making such a stupid comment.

- "It does! Garcia has really outdone herself this year. And last year was already pretty awesome."- Spencer didn't reply, he just stared at the food, avoiding eye contact, in a desperate attempt to keep his brain working. But (Y/N) just sighed, and after a few seconds of silence, she just walked away. Reid closed his eyes and bit his lips.

- "Well done, asshole. You really know how to look like a jerk."- he argued with himself.

- "Everybody! Get together! we are gonna vote for this year's best costume!"- Penelope clapped a few times and stood in front of the group, next to the altar with pictures of their loved ones.

- "As every year, we'll choose the winner with our clap-o-meter"- which they didn't really have, but the costume with the louder reaction from the team was the winner.

- "First we have the Joker and Harley Quinn."- JJ and Will walked to the front and the entire room started clapping.

- "Then we have Aladdin and Jasmine."- Morgan held Savannah's hand and walked in front of their friends. Everybody clapped as Savannah did a little dance and Morgan rubbed a golden lamp. Spencer looked at (Y/N), she was clapping and smiling, looking as happy as ever.

- "Next one, Beetlejuice and Ly..."

- "No!"- Spencer interrupted Garcia, raising his arm.- "We didn't come together as a couple."- and as soon as he delivered those words, Spencer turned and looked at (Y/N). Her smile was long gone from her face. Instead, she stared at him in shock. She was hurt, she was embarrassed. And most of all, she was storming out of the apartment.

- "Shit!"- Spencer whispered as she quickly followed her, as all their friends stared at them in silence. They were all thinking pretty much the same: he had fucked it up and he better fixed it.

- "(Y/N) wait!"- Spencer ran after her and held her arm before she reached the stairs.-

- "No, Spencer! I'm done! I know you hate me, but you don't have to be so mean! I thought we could work together and be civil, but clearly, you don't stand me! So, please! let me go home so you can enjoy your evening at peace."

Spencer stared at her in shock. That's what he had accomplished. That she thought he hated her. And all because he didn't know how to act around her anymore.

- "(Y/N), no. I don't hate you."

- "Don't lie! You are just gonna make it worse. I know you hate me, you never talk to me, you walk away whenever I show up, and clearly, you don't wanna participate in a silly costume competition with me!"- (Y/N) pulled her arm from Spencer's hand and started walking down the stairs. But before she could go too far, Spencer held her hand and stopped her.

- "I don't hate you, I fucking love you! I have no idea how to act when you are around! I can't even speak when you are looking at me!"- he blurted out, not even thinking. (Y/N) stared at him, frowning. None of them said a word for a few seconds until she managed to whisper.

- "What?"

- "I... love... I love you."- Spencer repeated, in a softer voice. (Y/N) took a step closer and tried to read his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there wasn't. Instead, he stared at her in adoration, waiting to see if his words had had any kind of effect on her.

- "You do?"- she asked, and Spencer blinked, nodding- "'Cos I love you too. So much."- she whispered, blushing.

- "You... do?"- Spencer nearly choked with the words. (Y/N) nodded and smiled, as the two of them fell silent one more time

- "Now kiss the girl, damn it!!"- Rossi yelled from inside the apartment, making them giggle. Spencer held (Y/N)'s hand and moved closer to her, staring right at her lips. She smiled in anticipation and nearly had a heart attack when she felt Spencer's lips on hers, kissing her so slowly, carefully, and sweetly, like she was made of crystal.

After a few seconds, they moved apart from each other and simply smiled, still in disbelief.

- "Do you... wanna go back inside?"- (Y/N) whispered, and pointed to Garcia's apartment.

- "Or... would you like to go out on a date?"- Spencer suggested, and her eyes shone in excitement.

- "A date on Halloween sounds like the best plan ever. But I thought this year you wanted to win the costume contest."

- "A date with you is the best prize ever."- Spencer replied and held her hand, leading the way downstairs. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!bau reader #hardcore fluff

[lanadelnegan]

Ok ! Soulmate au for The one the only JDM

The hot and cold game you feel hot when you are close to them and clod when your car away from them so imagine the reader and JDM always feeling cold until one day when he is doing a convention/panel and for the first time ever he feels warm same with the reader she needs to stand up to ask him a question……and everything falls into place

Love at First Sight

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, assume Jeffrey is single, p in v, sexual tension, flirty texting with jdm, sex in his car, poorly written smut

"Are we pissing our pants yet?" I watch him walk out onto the stage with Lucille resting on his shoulder as he arrogantly chews his gum.

The sight of him in person lights my skin on fire and I feel like the walls around me could burst into flames.

I push my sleeves up a little, regretting my decision to wear a sweater even though it's the middle of December. I'm always cold, so I thought I'd play it safe and bundle up. Clearly that's not working out for me. I subtly wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close." His voice distracts me from my overthinking and I look up at him again. That signature "Jeffrey" smile stretches across his handsome face as women around me scream at the top of their lungs.

Should've worn earmuffs too, I might be deaf after this.

When he finally sits down, his eyes scan the crowd and I restrain myself from joining in with the screaming, keeping my cool and not wanting to draw attention to myself.. yet.

I study him closely for the next few minutes.. watching his body language and the way he fidgets with his hands on the table in front of him. The way his Adam's apple moves up and down when he gulps his water... The way he stares at the floor like he's on another planet when his costars are talking.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

All of a sudden, his eyes dart up, immediately colliding with mine. His expression doesn't change as he stares at me with unreadable hazel eyes.

When he realizes I'm not going to be the first one to look away, his serious face slowly turns into a knowing grin before he winks at me.

My face reddens and I subtly glance around to make sure he's looking at me and not someone else.

When I look back at him, he softly shakes his head before tipping it towards me. "You." He mouths silently.

My jaw drops faintly before I compose myself, bringing it back up into a smile before biting my bottom lip embarrassingly. My head drops, watching my sweaty hands fidget in my lap.

"Alright, next question." The host announces.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my hand. Another employee hands me a mic and I stand up nervously, locking eyes with Jeff again to find that he's watching me curiously. He's casually leaned back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach as he tilts his head at me with amusement.

I look down at my feet and try to breathe. "Um, my question is.. for.. Norman." I change my mind at the last minute, not having the nerve to ask Jeffrey what I had planned. My eyes roam up, finding Norman's. "What do you and Jeffrey like to do together when you hang out off set?"

Norman's smile widens as he looks to Jeffrey. "Should we tell her, man?" The crowd laughs at Norman's teasing before he looks back at me. "We make out." He says with a serious expression. Everyone laughs again before he answers my question seriously this time. "Nah, um.. we ride our bikes. Talk about hot chicks. Watch baseball." He pauses, still thinking.

"Then we make out." Jeffrey chimes in and the crowd bursts into laughter. He smiles proudly at himself as he stares at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Jeffrey asks, reverting my attention back to him.

"Y/n." I say into the mic.

"Y/n." He repeats. "Pretty name. Any more questions for us?"

Here it goes. "Um, yes. Actually, one for you."

He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. "Let's hear it."

I look around nervously and try to mentally prepare myself for the embarrassment I'm about to put myself through.

"Y/n, look at me." He demands and I turn my attention towards him again. "Just me and you right now. Ask me."

He stares at me like we're actually the only ones in the room and my legs grow weak.

"Um.. can I.. can I take you out?" I bite my lip and try not to cringe at myself, bracing myself for rejection. But, the worst thing he can do is say no.

Wrong - the worst thing he can do is humiliate you in front of a room of people and crush your hopes and dreams.

I try my best to push the thought out of my head as I wait for his answer.

"Wow, I love the confidence." He grins. "But, no, you can't take me out."

My heart drops and I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'll be the one taking you out." He clarifies and my heart drops again, this time with excitement. "Come here, sweetheart."

My eyes widen and I can't believe this is actually happening right now. I walk to the front of the stage and he meets me at the edge before smoothly hopping down.

Good god, he's even taller in person.

He smirks down at me, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to me with a dial screen pulled up.

My fingers shake as I type my number in and hand it back to him. He hugs me tightly as the crowd woos and screams.

"Don't be nervous. You are adorable." He whispers in my ear, sending chills throughout me before we both make our way to our seats.

Andy is in the middle of answering a question when my phone vibrates softly in my lap. I pick it up and see a text from an unsaved number. I click on it and my heart somersaults in my chest at the words on my screen.

Don't look at Andy. Look at me.

I look up and find Jeffrey smiling and gazing up at me through his eyebrows. My lips twist into a smirk before replying.

Maybe I'm a Rick girl.

I try not to laugh at myself as I look back up at him. He reads my text under the table before glaring at me teasingly, squinting his eyes. My phone vibrates again.

I could change that.

I silently giggle but when I don't respond, a few minutes go by before he sends me another.

Have we met somewhere before?

No. Why?

Feels like I know you from somewhere. Hmm. Maybe from your dreams. ;)

Oh you'll definitely be in my dreams now, doll.

My heart flutters and we spend the rest of the panel flirting and eye fucking each other from across the room. When the host announces that the time is up, my phone vibrates again.

Where are you staying? I'll pick you up at 8pm.

I smile giddily as I type out the address of the hotel I'm staying in. I drove two hours from home just to come ask that man a question, and holy shit was it worth it.

7:55pm...

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

I hyperventilate in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 5 minutes before I force myself to get it the fuck together.

This is what you wanted. I remind myself, taking a mini shot of alcohol to ease my nerves.

I smooth my silky blue dress down my body and apply some lip gloss before a my phone buzzes on the counter.

You ready, beautiful?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan thinks I’m beautiful.

My heart hammers in my chest as I grab my jacket and not-so-calmly rush to the elevator. I expect him to be waiting in his car for me out front, but when the elevator doors open, I’m stunned to see him standing in the lobby, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He looks up and grins from ear to ear when he sees me. My heels click against the floor as I make my way over to him, checking him out in the process. His dark grey slacks outline him perfectly and I restrain myself from staring too long, letting my eyes roam upwards towards the peppery chest hair peeking through his silky black button down. His sleeves are rolled up a few inches and his hair is perfectly gelled in place. He looks stunning.

When I finally approach him, he hands me the roses and I smile giddily.

“Wow, a true romantic.” I pretend to fake cry and he laughs, rolling his eyes. I think I even see see a little redness in his cheeks.

“These are lovely.” I thank him seriously now and he nods his head once before letting his eyes roam over me.

“You look.. absolutely incredible.”

I blush at his words as he holds his arm out for me to hold onto it. Such a gentleman. My arm slips into his as he leads me towards his black mustang parked right out front. He opens the door and I carefully slide in, shivering from the cold. The entire interior is a leather brick red and it smells like faint cigarettes and strong, expensive cologne.

When he gets in on the other side, he takes my roses and places them in the backseat before turning to face me. I take my jacket off and place it next to them, feeling warm all of a sudden.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at me playfully.

“Hi.” I giggle and my hands hide between my exposed legs. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash towards my thighs as I shift in the seat.

“You are so fucking cute." He reaches his hand out and laces his fingers through mine as we drive off.

"So.. where are we going?"

"Can't ruin the surprise, doll?"

I shrug. "I don't like surprises."

He glances at me with a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I think you'll like this one." His hand squeezes lightly around my thigh.

My legs barely part at the sensation and I look at Jeffrey, noticing the way his jaw ticks when he glances at my thighs.

"So why did you ask me out, sweetheart? Gotta admit, first time anyone's had the balls to do that."

"Why not? The worst you could've done is say no."

"And what if I had said no? Would you still like me?"

"....Probably not." I answer truthfully.

He snickers and I lay my head back on the seat, letting myself admire his beauty.

"It's rude to stare, ya know?" He teases.

"Yeah, I know." I blatantly continue staring.

"Keep eye fucking me and we won't make it to your surprise, doll."

I smile at that challenge, not taking my eyes off of him.

"What am I gonna do with you, y/n?" He shakes his head a little.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?" I tease him and confidently place my hand on top of his on my thigh, moving it closer towards my aching center.

I look at Jeffrey and see his eyes study the rearview mirror before slowly bringing the car to the side of the road and shutting off the engine.

"You want me so bad, huh? Come get it." Is all he says before we're both unbuckling and I'm climbing on top of him.

My lips connect with his the second I'm settled into his lap. Our desperate moans fill the car, mixing with the sounds of other cars driving by.

"I want you to know something first." He breathes into my mouth.

"Hm?" I ask, not taking my lips off his.

"I don't do stuff like this, y/n. But there's something special about you. Fuck, I.. I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"Maybe we were an old married couple in another life." I tease, bringing my lips down to his jawline, then his neck before sucking at his cologne-coated skin softly.

I reach for his pants and unbutton him, puling out his swollen cock and stroking it in my hand while hovering above him.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom." He announces.

"I'm clean.. I promise. Are you?" I don't care, I'm desperate to have him in me.

"Yes, I'll pull out... Put me inside you, baby."

I line him up with my entrance and slowly slide down his full length, moaning at the fullness. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grind on his cock.

"I wanna know more about you." He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

"Right now? What do you wanna know?" I ask in between my moans.

"Everything." He says seriously as I bounce on him, arms wrapped around his neck to steady myself.

"Uh, okay.. I love the color y/f/c. I like to read.. mmm, fuck." I moan, trying to concentrate and list the things about myself. "I can't cook to save my life."

"Keep going." He smiles looking up at me and the streetlights make his hazel eyes sparkle.

"My dog's name is y/d/n. I love music... My celebrity crush? Andy Lincoln." I tease, smiling widely while bringing my hands to rest on his knees, so I can angle myself better and ride him faster.

He smacks a hand to my ass. "Try again."

"...Jeffrey.." I moan and my head falls back when his thumb meets my clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "Dean… Morgan." I moan out on purpose before holding my head back up to look at him.

He chuckles. "Yeah? What do you like about him?"

"What's not to like?" I breathe out as I study his face. "His eyes. His hair. His beard." My gaze travels south. "His tattoos. His body."

"What else, baby?" His thumb rubs faster against my clit and my mouth gapes open.

"His attitude. His voice.... His.. his cock."

"Fuck, baby." He says and pushes his hand against my lower back, bringing me closer to him and pulling my dress down until my braless tits pop out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, making us both groan.

"Jeffrey.. I'm gonna -"

His head falls back against the seat, my nipple popping out of his mouth. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby."

We look into each other's eyes as I come undone, moaning his name loudly and pathetically.

"Fuuuck." He quickly lifts me up, pulling his cock from me and stroking it in his hand before his cum shoots all over my stomach.

And by stomach I mean dress. Fuck.

I laugh as we both come down from our high, looking at my cum stained dress and the puddle of my wetness on his pants.

"Guess you're coming back to my hotel, doll. Can't go anywhere like this."

I frown at him, pouting my lower lip out. "What was the surprise gonna be?"

He presses his smirking lips to mine and squeezes my ass. "Wouldn’t you love to know."

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #jdmfanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan x you #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jdm fanfic #jdm x you #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #negan au

[hard-core-super-star]

During an interview with Hailee, someone asks reader to marry them, and Hailee isn't too happy about it.

it it cool that i said all that? [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x actress!reader

summary: doing interviews with your girlfriend is all fun and games until someone gets too comfortable with their questions.

warnings: none, just fluff; a speck of possessive hailee; two dashes of (not-so) secret relationship vibes; awkward interview moments that gave me second-hand embarrassment while writing

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: does anyone else remember when comic-con was a big deal? yeah, me neither. so, instead of a convention-type vibe, i went the talk show route. [specifically stephen colbert because he's the only host i can honestly say i like] slowly but surely getting through all of my requests but the urge to write alpha!kate pt. 2 is starting to take over my life so...don't be surprised if i disappear for a few days and then post it out of the blue.

* * * * * * *

There are only a few things more nerve-wracking than having to sit in front of a room full of people and answer questions you’re definitely not prepared for despite all the time you’ve spent overthinking. The only thing that could possibly make that situation more anxiety-inducing is having to do it next to someone you’re dating…in secret.

It’s not a well-kept secret by any means but the lack of confirmation from both parties is more than enough to have fans from both sides analyzing every single comment that gets exchanged. You don’t really mind it, even though sometimes you feel like there’s a target on your face. 

A target in the form of looks you can’t hide and smiles you don’t share with anyone but Hailee.

Okay, so maybe you’re incredibly obvious about your feelings for her but it still took her until after you finished filming Hawkeye to realize the truth hiding beneath all your stupid jokes. It would be easy to make fun of her for being so oblivious if you weren’t exactly the same way.

It took more than a few tries but the two of you eventually gathered enough courage to be honest with each other leading to the start of quite possibly the most chaotic but most rewarding relationship you’ve ever had. Just because most people in your life haven’t caught up yet doesn’t make it any less amazing.

The thing no one prepared you for, though, is having to do talk show interviews while avoiding the topic of said relationship. It’s not like either of you is genuinely trying to hide the truth, it’s just easier to explore your developing feelings when there aren’t a ridiculous amount of eyes trained on the pair of you.

Eyes that sometimes don’t quite know how to read the room.

Which brings you back to your current situation.  You and Hailee are sitting slightly too close together while doing another interview where you have to dance around spoilers while trying to get people excited for Hawkeye.

It turns out, you don’t actually have to do much since seeing the two of you together seems to be more than enough to get people talking about the show.

“So, y/n, I know this is your first time doing an interview like this and I don’t want to scare you away so how about we get some questions from the audience?”

The crowd erupts into cheers and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh even though you already knew this was going to happen. Being notified ahead of time still isn’t enough to stop you from worrying about what this segment will bring.

“What’s the worst that could happen right?” You joke, sharing a look with Hailee who merely shakes her head at you.

Of course, the list of “worst things that could happen” is quite long when it comes to people asking you whatever they want.

And right now, the way the brunette hasn’t let go of your hand since you sat down is definitely at the top of everyone’s list of questions. You’re sure no one is surprised by how affectionate she can be sometimes but it’s unusual to see her happily holding onto someone in a room like this one.

You swallow down your nervousness in order to focus on the questions that get thrown your way. Most of them are, in all honesty, softballs. Things like,”What was your favorite part about shooting Hawkeye?” and “Who’s the strongest Avenger?” 

You’re thankful for the easy questions until the humor your responses carry inspires some…bolder comments. Stephen lets everyone know the next question will be the last and the lucky fan who’s chosen takes her chance.

“Marry me?”

The easy atmosphere of the room leaves you completely unprepared for the question and the only real response you can offer at first is a laugh. A laugh that earns you a grin from the bold fan and a glare from your unamused girlfriend.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply with a shrug. “My manager will email you my schedule.”

Your response is just as unexpected as the question which just makes the audience laugh harder.

There’s a slightly smug look on your face that disappears the second you turn to look at Hailee.

She’s an actress, and a fantastic one at that, so she hides her emotions well. Unfortunately, you’re an expert at reading her and the lack of a smile on her face tells you all you need to know.

“Too bad you have a very busy schedule,” she says through a chuckle that sounds more forced than anything you’ve ever heard out of her.

“True, true. I’m a very responsible dogsitter and I don’t think Martini would be fine with me leaving her for so long.”

“Does she get jealous easily?” Stephen clearly picks up on you trying to change the topic but Hailee’s not done voicing her displeasure.

“Her owner does.” The words are a mere mumble but the microphone picks her up loud and clear.

Your eyes widen and her comment renders you utterly speechless. It’s not that the words are a complete surprise, you just can’t believe she actually said that in the middle of an interview.

She realizes what she said a few seconds later and her soft eyes meet yours. There’s a layer of nervousness in them that she can’t quite hide and the sight makes your heart clench. You can’t do much to reassure her though so you merely squeeze her hand three times and let the interview continue.

The minutes feel like hours but you eventually wrap up and are allowed to go back into your shared dressing room. Hailee all but drags you inside and you close the door behind you once you're in the safety and privacy of those four walls.

“I shouldn't have said that,” she blurts out, her hands emphasizing her words and the anxiety they carry. “I just, I don't know what came over me. It was stupid and I’m-”

“Lee.” You quickly cross the small space between you and grab onto her slightly shaky hands. “You don't have to apologize, everything’s fine.”

She blinks a few times but the action doesn't get rid of the genuine surprise that's etched onto her features. “You…You're serious?”

“Incredibly. I thought it was cute that you got jealous like that.”

Her usual playful energy comes back the instant she realizes you're not upset. And it very quickly becomes clear she's not actually upset either.

“Excuse me, I wasn't jealous. I just thought it was a lame question.”

“Mhmm, right.” You let go of her hands in order to wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. “I'll make sure to remind you of that if I ever propose.”

She leans in to kiss you until her brain catches up to your joke. There's a hint of a pout on her lips that makes you chuckle.

“What do you mean if?”

You don't bother with replying and instead kiss her again, knowing your actions will be more than enough to soothe her worries.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

[theineffablesociety]

I'd like to plan a Good Omens meetup for Saturday October 19th, 2024. Poll below!

The Ineffable Society Meetup is a thought that's brewed in my brain since June 2023 when a bunch of local GO fans chanced to meet for the first time at the King of Prussia PA screening of series 2 episode 1 and 2.

It is time to stop brewing and let others contribute.

Here's my initial thoughts:

I'm willing to organize but not alone. We'll need to work together.

I live near Philadelphia, PA so this is the area I'm willing to do what needs doing primarily in Eastern PA, Central NJ, surrounding areas therein.

I'd want everyone attending to be 18 or older, please. I encourage those 17 and under to organize something together!

Taking suggestions for type of venues to host, think like a family reunion or larger.

I'm not interested in handling money, so would seek at least 2 people to oversee financials if that comes into play. (Finances might be needed to cover renting a space, any printed materials, little swag gifts.)

As mentioned, Saturday October 19th. Because it's close to the Earth's Birthday. :3

Afternoon through evening could be good. Maybe a 3 hour window on the small end; most of the day on the larger end. Will depend on location and on how many helpers step up.

Good Omens related fun: encouraging cosplay, script book readings, discussions, games, swaps. Maybe screening an episode together (there's copyright law to contend with here though). Depending on how much time we have together and space. Simplest plan would be an informal Good Omens afternoon mixer type.

If fewer than 12 people are interested:

We could just meetup at a restaurant that has a function room! (Not super ideal for allergies, as there's probably nowhere that's good for everyone. But does it in a pinch. And would probably not be a big up-front cost. Often there's a small room fee and then the assumption everyone will eat.)

If more than 12 up to 40 people are interested:

We might consider renting some conference rooms at a small hotel. (That does make it easier for people to find accommodations: already there! At a hotel! Downside is this will require chipping in.)

Any more than 40 people and uhhh... We'll figure it out.

WHAT I NEED TO KNOW FROM YOU

There will be more questions to follow, but most important one is below.

Please answer YES if you are:

A Good Omens fan

18 or older

In the Eastern PA to Central NJ area

Or are otherwise willing, able, and interested to go there

For transparency. A little about me:

I'm North (SeedsOfWinter). They/he.

Over the past two and a half decades, I've organized or been a member of organizations that planned meetups, game nights, reunions, and nerd events for friends and strangers alike.

I've been a Good Omens fan since June 2019. I run @rareomens. I am a mod for @ineffableeraszine and @bildadzine. I was a mod for the Our Side Zines, Pin Me Up 2, and many more. I was a founding admin for the LGBTQIA+ Fans of Good Omens groups.

I've been part of convention presentations for Good Omens at The Ineffable Con (virtual) and DragonCon (in-person, Atlanta GA). I love to organize fan photoshoots and meetups.

I know that any attempt at gathering people requires a team to make it happen; and that there's pitfalls and perils to all of it, especially when you're dealing with a bunch of possible strangers meeting for the first time! But the end result (you all getting a chance to connect together as fans) is feeling pretty worth it.

#good omens #good omens fandom #the ineffable society #ineffable society #the ineffable society meetup #fan meeting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley

[sshadowritestoriess]

Hi! Assuming you're not like, dead since you've been inactive for 5 months, would you do headconnons on what Ramattra, Zenyatta, and Genji would do for Reader's birthday? I ask because mine is getting close.

Crawls out of my grave… it’s definitely been a rough few months, hello ^^ I’ll do my best.

Ramattra on Your Birthday

Ramattra is the type of omnic that wouldn’t say a word of your birthday as the date fast approaches. You might think he’s forgotten, if the clever ravager was capable of such a thing. But he’s had the date saved ever since you had mentioned it in a long-forgotten conversation

He’s the materialistic sort. Numbers and data mean everything to him - yours in particular, as one of his closest (and last) companions. Ramattra knows exactly the things you like, crave, and want. Some things he’s exceptionally, and unfortunately, quite good at poking fun about; be it because it’s a unique interest or not very well known

But he knows you enjoy that sort of thing, so he’d find a way to acquire it in some fashion : clothing, cosmetics, merchandise, a book or pad, a signed t-shirt, food, tools, tickets… or maybe just a well thought-out playlist he put together just for you. Whatever kind of item he could possibly find that hits as close as possible to that thing that means quite a lot to you, he will have it ready for your birthday

It might just be one thing, possibly two if he couldn’t decide between which you might like the most. He’d have this gift ready just a couple months in advance, just in case you lose interest.

What he does not do is wrap it. Maybe a gift bag if you’d expressed disappointment in that sort of thing - but there’s never a tag or card or anything that would let you know who it’s from. It might just appear at your doorstep like a regular package, or he’d have another bot deliver it straight to you.

Ramattra does not wish anyone a “happy birthday”, unless appropriately prompted to. He might not even have a clear enough schedule to see you that day if you had any plans - a human custom he doesn’t have much interest in partaking in (perhaps because all omnics have the same “birth” day, all thanks to Aurora), but the gift-giving is a meaningful enough aspect he would take advantage of.

He expects no thanks, nor to be treated the same. But if you came to him happy about your gift, that would be entirely enough.

Zenyatta on Your Birthday

This monk is most definitely more of the ‘experience’ type. When it comes to any celebrations or occasions, he tends to lean toward going out to be part of the world.

He’s absolutely asked you just shy of a dozen times what you might like for your birthday, if you’d like to celebrate it early or on the weekend, if you’re hosting a party or just having a day to yourself. All the important things so he won’t accidentally intrude on your special day

Zenyatta likely provides much smaller gifts as compared to his brother - things that might compliment your appearance or home, or represents something about you that he really likes. You’re more likely to learn something about yourself with the kinds of gifts he has to offer

If permitted, he would be joyous to treat you to lunch or dinner. Something made by him, anything you have to request? Or he’d be elated to surprise you with a meal you haven’t tried before, but goes along with the things you normally like. He’s normally spot on, and you just might discover a new comfort food

But if you especially had nothing planned, or just wanted to spend the day with your dear Zenyatta, he would absolutely have something in mind that he would have reserved or set up for weeks in advance. A night at a gala? A local street festival with games and music? A convention full of things you might enjoy - or a wonderful hike through nature. Maybe just a day with a couple of activities he knows you really like; skating, an arcade, shopping, movies, racing - just enough that isn’t too overwhelming, but lets you know he pays well attention to the things that bring you joy.

Whatever the plan is, Zenyatta would have it and be there for it, and be happy just to spend the day with you. His patience is unfathomed - he would make sure that everything you partake in is an experience he knows you wouldn’t turn down. Your smile at the end of the day is all that matters to him.

Genji on Your Birthday

This man is pretty big on surprises. With Genji, you get to start off your morning with a rose and a note on your bedside table.

Perhaps the sneaky cyborg had a treasure hunt set up for you throughout your home, the Overwatch base, or wherever you reside. Or maybe the note tells you where to meet him when you wake? Certainly one of the two, and he’d have quite the elaborate map set up for you

He’d have an array of gifts hidden in places, some that don’t make sense and some that you definitely favor more than the others (a cheap electric kettle versus a brand new hoodie in your favorite color? What was his thought process on these?) but regardless of their individual quality, it’s obvious he’s been very excited to get these to you. And somehow, his best gifts were probably bought just yesterday.

And it doesn’t stop there. Next thing you know, he’s got a blindfold in hand and he’s cautiously leading you to where there is, no doubt, a surprise party he’d set up with friends. (Apologies to those who aren’t big on celebrations with multiple people - Genji would be sure to grovel for your forgiveness later)

If you’re particularly introverted and have greatly expressed a dislike for those kinds of occasions before, then similarly to Zenyatta, Genji might have a few quieter activities reserved just for the two of you. It could even be as simple as a day in playing video games - if you don’t mind getting your ass kicked in the more competitive franchises.

The birthday dessert was definitely something he had made himself, and you could tell. The way it was poorly plated, decorated, and just a tad malformed; inexperienced hands that lack a creative means of decoration certainly took liberties on even writing your name only half in cursive. He would present this as his final gift with a false sense of pride - easy to see in his eyes the shame he felt for being ambitious with frosting.

Genji aims to hear you laugh, and if he could manage being the source of that at any point in your day - then your birthday was a success in his eyes.

#overwatch #overwatch2 #headcanons #ramattra #genji #zenyatta #reader #reader insert #y/n #x reader #fluff #platonic #romantic

[trials-era-sam]

Gonna get chick-flick-momenty for a minute if you don’t mind!!!!!

In 2018 I told myself, “it’s already season 13, the show is bound to end sooner or later and I’ve already been watching this show and been obsessed with it for almost 10 years, I HAVE to meet Jared this year.” I got incredibly lucky that this was the one and only year Creation decided to host a con in Birmingham, UK, a city I’d already been to and felt comfortable going to on my own (unlike Rome haha) and that very first con was AMAZING. Had a great photo op with Jared - but most of all, got to meet my amazing friend @malnourishedsamdean who became my convention buddy. We’ve now gone to three more cons together, only one of which Jared did not cancel - whether he was there or not though, he may be our fave but we had tons of fun and made up for it by meeting more of the cast!!!! - and it would have been four had I not made stupid financial decisions, but oh well. I’ll always treasure these memories with C and hope to make more, and we also met some amazing people there!!!!

Then last year I went to my first JIBcon, finally confident enough to do it having been to Rome in the meantime, but mostly confident because I was going with the wonderful @schielegon and had SUCH a fun time ♥️♥️♥️ the events were incredibly fun (especially a meet and greet where Jared gave me the very last question 🥰) BUT the highlight was definitely meeting this gal I just tagged as well as @ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty , @arwenadreamer , @takikojou and other lovely people <333

There was also that one con that C and I booked on my 28th birthday and only got to go when I was 31, but I don’t think I need to explain why, no one needs the reminder lol. It was SO worth the wait - especially because our beloved @jellybracelet got to come with us <3333

JIB was so amazing I nagged her and @seanwinchester to come this year, and we just had the most wonderful, wonderful weekend because these guys are the most fun, and met more lovely people 🥰🥰 can’t even put it into words because of the sleep deprivation but I’m still floating on that high!!!!

And now that I’ve told my life story as if I was a fan asking Jared and/or Jensen a question,

TL;DR - I feel so, so incredibly lucky and happy. I really hope this doesn’t come across as braggy and I’m sorry if it does - I genuinely, genuinely want everyone to experience stuff like this. It’s the absolute best. I don’t think another show would have provided me with the happiness, the memories and the FRIENDS this show has. I’m so grateful to all of you and also to the cast who will never read this ♥️♥️♥️♥️ they say never to meet your heroes but my interactions with Jared have been so great, he really is as kind and funny and sunshiny as he seems (yes I know I am parasocializing hard idc) and, as I don’t think I’m stopping cons now because they’re so addicting (HOW HAVE I ALREADY BEEN TO SIX. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE), I’m so excited to meet more of you in the future <33333 I love you all so so so so much this is the best community ever!!!!!!!!!

Also now that it’s on yt for everyone to see and while I’m pouring my heart out, hi! I’m Anaëlle. Please continue to call me Ana <33 but know that I freaked out hard when Danneel’s character had my name in the show lmao

#personal #long post #I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH

[screentones-webcomicresources]

Preparing for Conventions

What events are best to go to?

Whether it’s a huge celebrity-studded multi-day weekend or a small gathering at a local library, in-person events are an exciting way to reach all kinds of comic fans that may not be in any of your circles online. There’s opportunities to be had at almost every type of event, but a few things that might narrow your focus:

Events that don’t cost more than you think you can make. Convention costs can add up extremely quickly. You can expect to pay at least $100/day for an artist table at mid-sized or large conventions. If you’re just starting out, prioritize conventions that are close enough to your home (or friends/family who will host you) that you won’t have to pay for a hotel or spend a lot in transportation costs.  Splitting the table with another artist is another option!

Events that other artists in your area/genre recommend. A great way to learn about events in your area is to attend one and ask others what conventions they like in the area. Some regular artists even maintain online groups to discuss application deadlines and share experiences.  Depending on the genre of your art or comic, you might also find adjacent things like horror shows, anime shows, or zine fests worth exploring too!

Events that you can actually get into. Conventions can be very competitive to get into, and have very small application windows months in advance. Once you’ve identified which conventions are in your area, follow their Twitter, mailing lists or websites to catch their sign up deadlines. Juried shows may also ask for a link to your portfolio, author bio or store to get an idea of who you are and what you’d be selling, so be sure to put something together and be ready!

What kinds of products should I prepare?

Our Masterlist of Printers is a great place to start for recommendations about places to make your products and inspiration! But to cut down on costs and keep yourself flexible while you figure things out, it’s a good idea to focus on:

Products that suit a specific style and taste.  Do you make big intricate illustrations that would look good as 11x17 printed art? Are you good with quippy one-liners that would make fun stickers? Is there a popular fandom that you like that has a similar genre to your other work?  Popular products are prints, stickers, charms, pins, and comics. But don’t be afraid to handcraft figures or something else.

Products that work together. Be deliberate about the vibe you’re setting, whether that’s a genre (horror, humor, superheroes, etc.), an age range (all ages, adult), a specific type of product (mostly t-shirts, mostly prints, accessories), a theme (eg, all things coffee!).  There’s a lot of approaches to making a cohesive product line and organizing your table to keep like things together, but having cute plushies AND saucy pinups AND anime figurines AND coffee mugs can be confusing to customers who are trying to figure out what your table is all about.

Products with low price points that won’t be too expensive to make. Products priced $15 or lower are generally an easy buy for new customers, and offering a range of small inexpensive things is great for folks who are on a budget but still want to support you. When you’re just starting, look for things that don’t require a high amount of money to produce for you or can print in low quantities with a printer.  Printed-at-home or handcrafted things are also possibilities for a more zine-style table presence and can save you a little money.

Products with a low minimum order quantity. Try not to order more than 10 or so copies of any one thing (especially anything that a stranger wouldn’t recognize like OC) until you’re confident it will sell. You can always order more after the show if you run out.  If you DO have leftover stock (and 99% of the time you will), you definitely can sell it at a future convention, a crowdfunding campaign, include it as Patreon rewards, or list it in an online store. But being stuck with a closet full of 500 postcard prints that you can’t sell is not a fun time, even if you DID get a bulk discount.

Products that have a general appeal. Even if you have a massive social media following, 99% of your customers will have never heard of your comic or your original characters. Comic enthusiasts will often be open to giving a new story from a local artist a chance if you chat them up a little and tell them about it. But also having general interest products (animals, fanart, nerd humor, mythology) on the table that don’t require as much explanation to enjoy is a very good idea.

What do I need other than merch?

A good convention setup looks clean, organized, and easy to engage with.  Once you’re accepted, look carefully at the details of the convention and what’s included with your space.  Many conventions will give you a table and chair, but you’ll probably also need:

Backdrop - Backdrops display your best art and help people see it from across a crowded room, and partition your space if you’re very close to other tables.  A photo backdrop stand with a bunch of 11x17/A3 prints taped together that you’re selling, a wire cube grid construction you can set on your table and stick smaller merch pieces to, or a professionally-printed banner with your name, URL/social handle, and your best art and are all solid options for this.

Where to get them: Google “photo backdrop” or look for photography supply stores. Google “wire cube grids” or look around hardware stores or Walmart/Target.  For banners, you can find printers that can make retractable banners or vinyl banners to hang from a photo backdrop.

8-foot Tablecloth - Many conventions assign you a very weathered 6-foot table, so always plan on having something to cover it (optionally for multi-day shows, a second to cover your setup for security purposes when you leave your table.)

Where to get them: Fabric stores, bedsheets, party stores.

Displays - Flat items on a table are invisible to anyone who isn’t directly in front of you, so look for a way to make your stuff stand up and be seen! Easel stands to highlight featured books or art, cork boards and pins you can prop up, boxes or porfolio books to flip through, wire/wooden racks to hold lots of books are all great ideas to consider, depending on your products.

Where to get them: For heavy-duty stuff, you’ll probably want to Google around order displays online. Art supply stores will often have easels and portfolios. If you don’t want to spend a lot of money yet, dollar stores can be a gold mine of quick solutions too!

Price Signage - Having clear pricing on your table helps people decide what to buy without having to ask you about every product. Print your own signs at home, bring colorful post-its, or some stiff paper, markers, and tape. You can also use a white board or chalk board to make a “menu” style price list.

Where to get them: Office supply stores, Target/Walmart.

The ability to take money from people - A secure place that’s accessible to you to keep money for making change. Cashbox theft can unfortunately be an issue sometimes, so wearable pouches or discreet envelopes that don’t immediately look like money are better in this context. If you have a cellphone or tablet, you can also get an app where you can list your products and connect an attachment to swipe or tap credit cards for a small fee.  (Note wi-fi and power are not dependable in many venues, so be sure to have a charger and a good data plan for your phone)

Where to get them:  For cash, go to your bank in person and ask for $50-$100 in 1s and 5s. For credit card payments, Square, Paypal, and SumUp all have apps that you can put on a phone or tablet and have attachments to swipe or tap credit cards.

Business cards - Customers will often want to follow you on social media, read your comic, or shop online after the show, so be sure to have lots of business cards! Use your most memorable art so they’ll be able to remember where they got it from! If you’re looking to offer commissions or talk to agents/comic professionals, you might also include your email address, but otherwise leave it off.

Where to get them: Many printers offer business cards for cheap. In a pinch, you can also print your own at home or have one sign with your info and ask people to take a picture.

What to Expect

Lots of talking! You don’t have to have a carnival sideshow “step right up” persona, but be ready to give a friendly hello to folks who look interested in your work, and confidently answer questions about all of your products when asked. If you have a comic, practice a quick elevator pitch to explain it.

Not many breaks! While you can technically step away from your table whenever you want (if you’re alone, you can usually ask a neighboring table to watch your stuff for you), every hour you spend away from your table getting food or going to see cool panels are sales opportunities missed.  Keep snacks and water at your table to minimize your time away, look for slow traffic times to step away and explore a bit, or bring a friend who can watch your table and sell things for you if you need longer breaks to recharge. 

People who have never read a comic on the internet! For those of us who live and breathe our webcomics, this can come as a shock, but many people are still only readers of printed comics and will want to buy your physical book rather than read it free on the internet or buy a digital copy. Even if it’s just a small chapter book, having a print version is a great idea to get readers!

Fun and profit! This can also be surprising if you only have experience with online stores, but people come to convention floors with very open wallets. Things that don’t sell at all online can do gangbusters at conventions when presented right! Experiment with your setup to highlight your favorite things, take careful records of what attracts peoples’ attention and what sells, and keep notes for the next day and next convention, and have fun learning about this new market!

#conventions #comic conventions #marketing

[imtrashraccoon]

Gah! You guys were so awesome on my previous two posts. It was a huge surprise to wake up to this morning! So here is the next one, enjoy!

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day

Day 3: Scarfs

Frisk seemed to really like Doomfanger. As the days went by, you often woke up to find the cat had somehow squished herself between you and Frisk on the couch. Her purring was what woke you up every time as a result of Frisk just drenching her with attention. It was a good thing you weren't allergic to cats but getting all of her fur off your clothes was nigh impossible.

Today had been no different and after breakfast, Frisk had gone hunting for her again. They'd found a piece of string somewhere and got her to chase it across the living room. You couldn't help but chuckle watching their combined antics. Deciding to leave them alone for a bit, you wandered into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Papyrus was washing up the breakfast dishes and by the look of his uniform, he was probably heading out on patrol as soon as he was done. Rather than continue on your initial quest, you hesitated for a moment in the entryway of the kitchen, silently watching him work.

You had slightly mixed feelings about him, well, you felt that way about both brothers actually. While neither brother had been openly hostile towards you or Frisk, they had been rather passive or cold at best. This was pretty normal though, considering how rocky your first meeting had gone and how different their personalities were from your own.

Yet, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something between you and Papyrus. While it was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling since he didn't exactly have conventional facial expressions like humans did, he had been much kinder than you expected. He checked to make sure both you and Frisk were doing alright, as well as acting like a good host, making you feel welcome in his home, even if he was still a bit distant.

Papyrus must've sensed you watching him because he suddenly turned halfway around and spotted you. "Is Everything Alright?" he asked quietly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment and glanced away. "Yeah, we're alright. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you like that..." You rubbed the back of your neck and chewed your lower lip slightly.

"Apology Accepted." Papyrus returned to his current task, apparently unbothered.

You entered the kitchen and got a glass out of the cupboard. Quickly filling it from the tap, you leaned up against the counter and sipped at it.

"I do really like your uniform by the way. It legitimately looks really cool on you, especially your scarf," you commented, focusing on the remaining water in your glass while you spoke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought Papyrus smiled slightly at that. He didn't say anything for a moment, but you hadn't really been looking for a conversation and had just wanted to clear the air.

"I Made It Myself," he finally said as he finished washing the last pan.

"Really? That's pretty impressive," you responded and glanced over at him again.

Papyrus dried his hands and pulled his long gloves back on. "Well, Mostly By Myself. I Bought The Materials And Then Put It All Together."

"Can I touch it?"

Papyrus studied you before nodding. "Go For It."

Setting your glass on the counter, you moved closer to him and lightly ran your fingers over the tattered edges of the end of his scarf. It was way softer than you'd expected, almost like cotton, but thicker than any similar garments you'd felt before.

"It's sort of like the texture of cotton, but not? What's it made from?" you asked curiously.

Papyrus tilted his skull thoughtfully. "I Am Not Familiar With Cotton, Since We Do Not Get A Lot Of Human Clothing Down Here. We Make Our Own Textiles From Various Materials Like Plant Fibers, Fur, Or Hair. There Is Also Spider Silk, Although It Is Rather Pricey So Most Are Not Able To Afford It."

He chuckled and added, "However, I Am Not Most People And As You Can See, I Spared No Expense. Besides The Obvious Softness, Cloth Made From Spider Silk Is Much More Durable Than Other Materials."

Your eyes widened with surprise and you examined his scarf slightly closer. "No way... That's so cool! I would love to have something made from spider silk, but it just isn't feasible on the surface."

Papyrus smiled at your enthusiasm. "I Imagine It Is Not, Considering There Are Only A Few Spiders That Supply Silk For The Entire Underground."

He left for work not long after the conversation ended, although the it seemed to have put him in a good mood which made you happy. You were genuinely impressed that spider silk could be that soft and a small part of you was really tempted to "temporarily borrow" his scarf at some point to try it out for yourself.

(Edit: Second last one I swear! @scrambledmeggys )

#selfshipufpap #undertale #underfell #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus #reader #named oc #thwbd #the hand we've been dealt #alternate universe #raccoons drabbles

[chatsukimi]

Friends

Friends to lovers. gamer!reader, highschool!reader, canon-compliant

'Oh, we're just teammates.'

You've been repeating this phrase ever since you arrived in Miyagi with Kenma. His team arrived to play a practice match against Karasuno, and you and Kenma's gaming competition has its last round scheduled at eight.

'Why do people think that we're...?' you mumble.

Kenma scowls, turning his back on the boy with a yellow mohawk. 'Yamamoto, stop bothering Y/N.'

'But-'

Kenma’s judgmental stare stops Yamamoto on his track. You pad behind Kenma, returning to the bedroom. Everyone else eats downstairs. You hear the faint cackle of Kuroo's laugh seep through the floorboards.

'Y/N, do you want to go to a gaming convention when we get back?' Kenma tosses the words out, a lock of hair in his side profile.

'Sure, when is it?'

'January,' he says.

Oh. You nod, thinking in your head, you didn't think you'd be friends for that long.

Since a five am at an internet café, this boy with wondrous yellow eyes has snaked into your life. Now you can't imagine a Saturday morning anywhere but sprawled on one futon against the wall, your head leaned on his shoulder, playing a video game. His shallow breaths hit your cheek as he settles his hand on your side. It barely touches your hip.

This room is filled with futons, empty apart from the two of you. The motel located beside Karasuno hosts not only the Nekoma team, but, looking out the window, runaway Karasuno children too. An orange haired kid and his friend like to ask Kuroo for volleyball advice at random intervals.

When you finish your game, you say, 'it's been five months after we first played together.'

'It hasn't been that long,' he ponders.

'Not that long.' You relax and set the video game down. 'Feels like it.'

He scrunches his eyebrows together. 'What do you mean?'

'No, I don't mean it like that.’ But you did. ‘We live in the same city, we're both in second second year and all... We'll probably be teammates for a lot longer.'

He pulls you closer.

'You're an idiot if you think we're just teammates.' His eyes wandering across the room to you, he says, 'we're friends, dumbass.'

Friends.

It's enough.

'You're the dumbass.'

'Am not.'

'Are.' You gulp, taking in his face, imprinting every detail in your memory. If this were a dream, you'd wake up soon. 'You are the biggest idiot I know.'

To tell you the truth, Kenma is good at figuring out others' feelings. Surrounded by Kuroo's friends, he's never needed to work hard at it. Weekdays, holidays, they were spent buried in his online world, hanging around afterschool at most. But when it comes to you?

His heartbeat stutters.

Daylight blows in through the curtains.

'Am not,' he says, without any venom.

...

You're leaning against the vending machine when you meet the Karasuno boys. First comes Hinata. That boy beside him, Kageyama, is a piece of work.

'You're Kenma's girlfriend, right?' Hinata says.

You swear you hear Kageyama whisper '... setter...', but leave it with a benefit of a doubt.

'That's right, shrimpy.' Here comes the rooster-head. 'Ah, young love.'

As though to make a point, Kuroo leans against your shoulder.

Kageyama whispers, 'boke, Hinata, boke' but you're whirring around to chastise Kuroo when Hinata caws.

'Wah, Y/N! Why haven't I talked to you sooner? Kenma's never told me.' You fight off a wince. 'You're always standing with him. I've seen you a few times, sometimes after matches. You play video games with him, don't you?'

How do you say to a little kid, 'I'm sorry but your whole life's been a lie'? That's what you feel like, facing Hinata's frighteningly casual grin. How could anyone correct him of anything? You'll lock Kuroo out of the bus when this thing blows over.

'We're playing in the same gaming competition,' you say. 'That's why I'm here. Our final round is tomorrow.'

All that your relationship is built on is a game. A game, and certain persistence in keeping up the front.

...

'Kuroo,' Kenma warns, rising from his seat. 'I'm getting my phone from the gym.'

That's to say, don't try anything with you.

Kuroo hands over some keys, smiling. He had indeed locked the phone in the supply closet so Kenma wouldn't play that and not volleyball.

'Poor kitten,' Kuroo coos. When Kenma's out of sight, he sighs, palm on his chin. 'Ah, young love.'

You pick up your phone. Kuroo studies you for a long moment, before even he begins conversing with a teammate. Zipping up your jacket, you force yourself to ignore, ignore, ignore them.

When Kenma returns, phone in hand, his face is unreadable. He sits before his dinner, pausing before he speaks.

'I ran into Kageyama. We're dating?'

He… what?

'Come on, I would never think that.' The words slip out before you can help yourself. 'We're only friends.’

‘Oh, he was confused?’ Kenma scrutinises you.

‘We’re only friends, acquaintances,’ you add, ‘like you said.’

Something ugly twists in your gut. You’re losing the feeling of the floor under your sneaker-clad feet. You pray the silence continues for as long as it takes the situation to disappear.

Because Kenma shouldn't be pushing his chair back. Screech. He should be brushing this subject off, or cracking whatever jokes due to friends in these circumstances.

Because it is six fifty and, 'sorry. I need to charge my phone.'

He is exiting the dining room.

‘Hey, Kenma!' Kuroo calls after him, to no avail.

When Kenma chooses something, he commits completely.

Losing your appetite, you push the bowl of rice on the table away. Your breathing grows more and more distressed until the glare of the lights overhead forms a headache at your temples. The coach has gone for drinks with the other coaches. So far, no one has noticed Kenma's disappearance. He vanishes often.

'What happened? Messed things up?'

‘Just- stop.' You bow your head . 'It's only an hour before the final round.'

Kuroo attempts to relieve the situation. 'Anyone can tell what's between you two is not platonic.' He puts a calming hand on your back, but you swipe him off- even though you wish someone's hug would swallow you whole.

'Then what is it?'

You take a deep breath. You straighten your back.

'Yeah... yeah, that's the problem. I'm not good at this.' A smile wavers over your face. Bitter. 'Wouldn't it be better if this was just some game?'

…

You pay attention to Kuroo’s conversation with Yaku, the noise droning like static. Like waiting for an old game to load when it’s already been disbanded.

At seven, you step out for some fresh air.

The moon glistens over the countryside. Kenma sits on a plastic stool. You face his back. He keeps still- perhaps he hasn’t noticed.

'Hey.'

He tenses. No phone rests in his hands.

'What I said earlier...'

‘No, it’s fine. I was overreacting.’

You watch him fidget as he’s always done when nervous, picking at his nails.

'There's a different world online. I know you know that,’ you dare to begin. Your ears burn.

You focus on counting the stars above you, thousands of them, instead of meeting his eye. Regardless, when you reach count ten, you lower your gaze with intent to see. Whether or not his reaction be good or bad.

You continue, 'but I feel like I'll fail you. I don't want to mess up reality and destroy everything in there.'

He cards through his dyed yellow hair, then stops. ‘We’re playing our last round in an hour. Don’t worry.’ He wants to say, I'm not someone you should love out of pity.

You drag another chair over to his side.

‘That’s not what I mean.’

He opened your eyes to a world beyond gaming. He was the one to lug you out of an internet cafe to here, Miyagi. He made you feel things you’d be contrived to let go now. And letting it fade is to let it go. You would never feel the tips of fingers on your palm again. Lights dapple the village under the hill.

It is seven-o-five.

You stay.

‘I don’t play with you just because of games,’ Kenma says. He looks absent-minded, hesitating, before the exhale. ‘It’s more than that.

‘And not because we’re friends either.

‘We are, but- it’s hard to explain. Each time I pass one level, I want to get to the next. I would like to be with you forever.’

'So,' you offer, understanding what is meant by the phrase, the commitment it accompanies, 'come on, let's play.'

...

It is morning in Spring at the internet cafe. Falling cherry blossoms litter the path there, flush against concrete. It is the even footfalls matched with casual hands in one’s pockets, and the hair tied back how you recommended it. The bell dings. It is chaos and beauty and more.

He sits down.

‘Kodzuken the streamer, huh?’ He’ll never grow sick of eliciting your little smile.

He says, ‘I had to try it out.’

The promise is kept.

Fin

----

Here is part i and part ii if you would like to read the beginning and middle of the story :)

#kenma #kozume kenma #hq kenma #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #kenma fluff #friends to lovers #kenma x gender neutral reader #kenma angst #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader

[weshallc]

When is the Wedding?

Old Skool Turnadette.

Second of (which is now) three parts.

Thank you @fourteen-teacups and everyone who commented, reblogged or liked part one.

One O’clock

Shelagh returned to All Saints’ Church for the second time that day. Dr Turner had gone on his rounds and she had prepared lunch for Timothy and his grandmother. Marianne's mother had volunteered to keep the boy company while she and Patrick made their arrangements.

Granny Parker appeared to be as excited as her grandson about the forthcoming wedding. This had taken Shelagh by surprise at first, aware that her daughter had only passed away two years ago. But, the more she watched grandson and grandmother together, the more Shelagh began to realise that Timothy’s happiness was the older lady's main concern.

Mrs Parker had confided in her over Christmas that Shelagh believed to be a God send. She hadn't been convinced Patrick was coping as a single parent . Not wanting to come across as an interfering busty body, she had been summing up the courage to suggest to her son-in-law that Timothy go and live with her in Bexly Heath for a couple of years. Shelagh had been really shocked at this revelation and although she appreciated Mrs Parker’s concern and her willingness to help, she knew this would have hurt Patrick's feelings.

Shelagh had rarely seen him lose his temper, maybe occasionally with a negligent professional or an over officious board member. Only once on a personal level when the nursing staff refused Shelagh access to sit with Timothy because she was a day away from being his mother.

Mrs Parker was a warm and jovial woman, but she could see that Timothy didn’t just inherit his straightforwardness from his father's side. If Granny Parker misjudged her approach when raising her concerns and its solution, it could have damaged their relationship irrevocably.

These thoughts occupied Shelagh’s mind as she made her way through the transept and headed for the back of the church, retracing Patrick’s and her steps from earlier that day. She knocked on the large mahogany door of Reverend Raymond’s office.

The responding “Enter” brought a smile to Shelagh’s lips. How often had she heard that word from those lips over the last ten years? Although from behind a different door. She pushed the heavy barrier open.

“Shelagh, it’s so lovely to see you.” Sister Julienne was so impressed with herself for not throwing herself upon the young woman standing before her she released a rush of air which she disguised with a cough.

“Reverend Raymond said you’d be here this afternoon. I hope you will forgive my impromptu visit?” Shelagh rushed her greeting, alarmed that she hadn’t thought to telephone ahead.

The older woman was now by her side and had taken hold of her hand to reassure her friend.

“Reverend Raymond has been so generous in allowing me the use of his office, on an occasional basis, to complete Nonnatus paperwork and to store a lot of our documents in the crypt.”

Sister Julienne never changed, Shelagh thought, always thankful, always seeing God’s will in every hurdle that crossed her path.

“I also have full permission to make use of the kitchen. Would you like a cup of tea?” Shelagh’s protests of being a nuisance were soon silenced as her host explained she had been just about to allow herself a much desired break.

As a nun who had once wondered if she herself might one day be called on to run a convent, she admired the deftness of her mentor’s social skills and ability to put everyone around her at ease.

In the end, the church housekeeper had ushered the two women back into the office, perhaps not with the same social skills as Sister Julienne. She entered the office ten minutes later carrying a tray set with a fine bone china Royal Worcester Torquay tea set. A tea plate was full of raspberry jam tarts, which she informed her guests were the reverend’s favourites, but he could spare a couple.

As Sister Julienne played mother, sadness enveloped Shelagh; her own dramas had detached her slightly from the struggles her former colleagues were facing, as a result of being forced to abandon Nonnatus.

“I’m sorry to take up your time, Sister. I know this must be a difficult time for you, as us all, so many memories to be just ground into dust.”

“I can’t deny it has been a challenging time, but a building will be ground to dust. But, my memories and faith will remain very much intact. The order and our spirit are still very much alive.”

“Of course, Sister.” Shelagh took a sip of tea, wondering if it was the exact same teacup she had drank from that morning.

“But we mustn't dwell on the past. What of the future? May I enquire how did your first visit of the day to this office conclude?”

“Thank you for asking, Sister. Dr Turner and I are to be married the second week in February.”

“Splendid, the Lord dwells not in the old and decaying, but in the new and flourishing. One of many fresh starts I hope this year.”

As Shelagh helped herself to a tart, she wondered if they had been baked between visits or if the vicar actually didn’t like to share,

“So, when is the wedding?”

Forty minutes to two.

Talking to Sister Julienne always calmed her fears. Her steps were lighter, leaving the church and heading back to Timothy. She had been foolish to cut herself off from her friends, her family if she was truthful. She had been so thrilled to be forming a new family with Patrick and Timothy she had underestimated that change, even positive change, takes time and effort. She had found herself no longer a sister, yet not quite a Turner.

As traumatising Timothy’s illness and the consequences had been the blessing behind it had been the postponing of the wedding. It had given her and Patrick time to get to know each other a little better against the backdrop of tragedy rather than caught up in the nervous energy of a new romance.

It had also broadened her notions of what being a mother involved. In the sanatorium she had daydreamed of tucking the boy up in bed and helping him read. She’d wanted to draw with him and play the piano. She imagined sitting in the front row beside Patrick and applauding him in his school play.

That moment she was stranded behind the ward door looking helplessly on with the Matron’s words echoing around her head “You are not his mother” she’d known there and then that she wasn’t Timothy’s mother. The realisation had hit her that repeating her vows before God and wearing Patrick’s ring wouldn't miraculously make her fit for the role. It would be a title she would need to earn. She had a lot to learn.

A squeeze of her arm jolted Shelagh back to reality.

“Hello, you”

“Oh hello Trixie, how are you?” The young midwife was gingerly maintaining her balance on her bicycle, one foot planted on the pavement.

“Very cross with you. Chummy and I have been trying to arrange a time with you to design your wedding dress. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had been avoiding me.”

“My main concern these days is caring for young Timothy and encouraging him with his exercises, not on frivolous things such as gowns.” Shelagh knew she had overreacted. that her all too recent musings on motherhood had coloured her reply.

Trixie paused for a second, as if she was considering how to respond herself. As she studied Shelagh, she wondered what she saw; her confident colleague and superior or a neurotic woman, only slightly older than herself, but completely out of her depth.

The midwife hopped off her bike and leant it against the wall of the nearby Napoli. Taking hold of Shelagh’s arm once again, she pushed her through the Italian bistro’s door.

The warmth of the cafe complimented the welcome from behind the counter.

“Nurse Franklin. Lovely to see you again. Sit anywhere, you have avoided the rush.”

Shelagh sat opposite Trixie, filling a table for two next to an enormous mirror. It had been three months since Shelagh had looked at herself in the sanatorium mirror wearing her tired 1940s two piece, but the unexpected appearance of her reflection wrong footed her. She noticed Trixie gave her own image the briefest of glimpses and adjusted her hat in response.

A dark haired man in his twenties with a pristine white shirt and military ironed black trousers arrived at the table offering to take their coats. Trixie explained they would just be taking tea and a cannoli each. Shelagh wanted to protest that she could still taste the vicar’s Typhoo on her lips and had a raspberry seed wedged into one of her molars. The discomfort brought on by the mirror and the lack of familiarity in her surroundings somehow weakened her ability to protest.

The tea arrived swiftly in a large stainless steel teapot accompanied by two white pyrex turquoise band teacups and saucers. A matching tea plate with the Italian cream filled pastry followed.

Trixie ignored Shelagh’s raised hand towards the tea strainer she was flowing the hot amber liquid trough and filled her teacup to the rim.

“How long have we known each other?” Trixie had obviously come to a conclusion regarding the dilemma that appeared to have gripped her out doors. “You were the only one who saw through me almost ten years ago.” The bridge of Shelagh’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “You saw through my clipped, cut glass tones and my faultless sense of style and saw a nurse and a midwife and believed in me. I now can see through you, Sister Bernadette as was, you need to believe in yourself as a bride worthy of the man that adores you.”

Shelagh smiled affectionately at her friend and used the pastry fork to poke at her unprecedented third treat of the day.

“A little bird told me that you and Dr Turner had a very special appointment this morning.”

Shelagh decided it was only fair to relieve her animated companion's agitation.

“Yes, the wedding is booked for the second week in February.”

“That soon! Oh, we have so much work to do in such a short time.” Trixie dropped her fork and placed both hands on either side of her waist as if steadying herself.

“We do?” Exclaimed Shelagh.

Trixie frowned at the woman opposite, as if she was without reason.

“When is the wedding?”

#call the midwife #when is the wedding part two #very auld skool turnadette #poor love must need go wee by now

[pumpkinheadspacestation]

⚠Tw: mention of nsfw convention and use of pictures from said convention. I am NOT a nsfw account. I DO NOT support or participate in ANY nsfw communities! These pictures are for reference! ⚠

Now to the post!

I was thinking about how nice it would be to have a convention for age regressors just like capcon where regressors, caregivers, middles, flips, pet regressors come from all over to hang out with each other and participate in fun activities! And regressor shops can go to sell their products! It would be so fun!

These are some pictures from capcon, it just looks so fun and I wish it was for sfw regressors and not for the community it is for..

It would be so fun to have naptimes and cute crafts and stuff and just come together as a whole community and have fun playing in ballpits and just get to bring out our inner babies!

I hope someday there can be a con like this for age regressors!

ONCE AGAIN, I DO NOT CONSENT TO KINK INTERACTION NOR AM I PART OF THAT COMMUNITY!!

I did find One place that May be a sfw convention like this, it looks like it's much smaller scale though! But it looks like so much fun. It's not specifically targeted towards regressors but it hosts small scale events for inner child healing and also zoom meets. They host small scale pop up events in Vienna Austria. They also ask you be 18 years or older since it is for inner child healing with adults

This is the link to it:

Here are some pictures from pop up events in the past:

It's not a convention but it still seems like lots of fun!

I DO NOT CONSENT TO KINK INTERACTION!!! I USED CAPCON AND IMAGES FROM CAPCON AS REFERENCE! I HAVE NEVER ATTENDED AND I DO NOT IDENTIFY WITH ANY NSFW COMMUNITIES!

#age regression community #sfw age regressor #agere little #sfw smolspace #sfw agere #sfw age regression #age regressor #agere sfw

[sugarfreesyscourse]

This is one of the stupidest things I have ever seen.

I feel like it should be pretty obvious why essentially a 'DID convention' is a dogshit idea. Not to mention this is hosted by DID tiktokers, there's a good reason why DID events of any sort are arranged by mental health professionals and are highly informative, not a fucking PARTY?

Not to mention how they're, y'know, making out DID to be fun. It's not like this disorder ruins lives. I'm not saying systems can't be brought together; but honestly, unless it's in a pre-existing friend group, it doesn't usually go well. I'm apprehensive of system spaces online but this event would need you to put yourself there IN PERSON.

I mean, let's talk about this. This is going to spread so much misinfo at best, and it's going to be outright dangerous at worse. This is not hosted by mental health professionals. It's a free event. Everyone there "has DID", many likely without professional verification (I agree with self diagnosis with extensive research but a lot of people DON'T do that). Systok is a hellscape as is. My only hope is that this event flops because systok is full of misdirected minors who shouldn't have a way to get to the event.

But more importantly, this is a party, an event where everyone there KNOWS you have DID, which makes it dangerous. Anyone could be there with ill intentions. It's not going to be properly monitored. This puts attendees in an incredibly vulnerable situation. Not everyone in the system community is pure of heart, and many people malinger. I don't even want to get into all the bad that could happen- just think about what does happen at parties at is, and then add the fact that strangers are going to know you have a complex dissociative disorder stemming from trauma. Something that people often take advantage of and make worse.

Not to mention how they're advertising themselves as celebrities and making "fun packs" and having extortionate prices to meet the creators there. But hey, at least they have some protection, right? It's not like anyone else there matters!

#DID #OSDD #Syscourse #systok #actually traumagenic #actually did #actually osdd