#and please go check out isa's au

[thatsdemko]

secrets out - m.verstappen

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy + anxious thoughts + mentions of hookups + instagram au at the end

photo credits: Pinterest

a/n: I’m starting to like max but I’m still a Ferrari girl 🫡 also please do not ever ask me to do a instagram au that was a lot of work and I was sweating because of it I don’t know how some of you can do it!

most friendships between a man and a woman never stay platonic. the key word was most, and unfortunately you fell into that category because for a little over a year your childhood best friend became your fuck buddy.

you’re not sure when it started or how it happened, but it was an evening you wouldn’t forget because it change the trajectory of both of your lives forever.

you could barely be in the same room for long without feeling that sexual magnetic pole pull you from the across the room and under the sheets. you barely had conversations anymore, most of your time consisted of raw passionate sex.

and that’s what’s led you to this moment. sitting on the cold hotel bathroom tile hunched over the toilet. you swore to max it was just the alcohol or food poisoning, but he’s not confident in your answer. not since it’s been two mornings in a row you’ve ended up like this.

“I’ll see you at the paddock?” he leans behind your body, hand pressing against your forehead to check your temperature. he couldn’t afford to get sick, not ahead of the race, and you knew that, but you couldn’t be sick. you have a perfect health record.

“yeah, I’ll be down as soon as I can.” you removed your eyes from the empty toilet bowl and over to him. concern washed over his face, out of all the years he’s known you, he’s never seen you so down bad before.

you sent him a fake smile that was supposed to confirm your words, but all it did was worsen his anxiety. he couldn’t leave you, but he had a job to deliver and despite him wanting to take care of you, you wouldn’t allow him to. not with an important race on the line.

“go, I promise I’ll be there.”

—

Isa helped you look presentable ahead of joining the Red Bull garage. she had heard from the grapevine that you weren’t feeling well, and when she arrived to your room she began getting you in the right direction to get up and go to the paddock.

isa was the only one who knew that you and max had been seeing each other beyond your friendship. many drunk moons ago you had admitted to your feelings and to your situationship (if it was even that) to her and she’s since then never told a soul.

“a stomach bug? we both ate the same thing yesterday? are you sure it’s not something else?” she’s whispering at this point, she knows the media’s presence was intense and they could pick up on anything and tell the public with a simple tweet. the internet was already suspicious of you and max, and hearing you both discuss illness could add more to the table.

“what else could it be? it’s been going on for two days now.” your eyes flickered around you hearing cameras shutter, reporters talking, and team members shuffling along. all it took was for one person to stop at the same time Isa did for you.

“have you thought about being pregnant?” her hands grabbed your arm not allowing you to walk away. she tilts her sunglasses down her nose, you can see she’s serious and not joking around. the thought never crossed your mind.

“I haven’t no, but max and I have been so careful and you know I’m on the pill.” your words are defensive feeling the anxiety rise in your body as you began to think about it. you couldn’t leave the paddock without someone in Monaco recognizing you, and you were damn sure you or her couldn’t buy a pregnancy test without someone finding out.

“you could just be sick, but isn’t it better to be safe and check?” she asks, her head slightly nods in the direction behind you. turning around, you see the Dutchman himself, Red Bull hat and collared shirt on ready for media day.

“I guess so.”

—

it’s nearly after midnight when max is sound asleep, and you’re in the bathroom carefully reading the instructions to the pregnancy test Isa had delivered to your hotel room. you’re thankful for whoever ran out to get it, because all day you couldn’t eat without feeling nauseous about being pregnant. you needed to know more than you could imagine.

you could barely think of anything else while you sat on the cold tile awaiting the results. you tried to occupy your mind with social media, games, etc. but your mind kept pulling back to the timer on your phone and the blue stick that sat in front of you.

you’ve had your fair share of pregnancy scares before with max, and he’s never needed to know. you would just take the test, see it’s negative, and then throw it away. but the sudden illness was not helping you ease the burden of possibly being pregnant. it was such a scary thing and so much responsibility, you knew max wasn’t ready, he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend despite the numerous amount of dates he’s taken you on. being a father was a lot of ask from him.

the bell chimes of your timer quickly pulled you from your thoughts. you flipped the stick over immediately to see what your gut had been telling you the whole time. pregnant.

the pit of your stomach dropped as tears began to stream down your cheeks. how were you supposed to tell him? how were you sure he wanted this? how were you sure you even wanted this? all these things were beginning to add weight to your sobs and eventually max was woken up to the muffled sobs in the bathroom.

“y/n?” he pushed open the bathroom door to reveal you to him. knees shoved against your chest, body shaking as you cried. he slid down beside you pulling you into him. he saw the blue stick sitting on the floor, he didn’t dare to read the results, but he figured your tears were enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

“it’s okay, I’m here.” he says and it’s like you’re five all over again, except you’re not being bullied on the playground, you’re both facing the harsh realities of a years long hookup.

“it’s not okay, max.” you’re trying to push your body away from him, but ultimately fail. you don’t have the strength to do so, your body is tired and you felt safe in his arms. you didn’t want to pull away even if you tried once more.

“why’s it not okay? because you’re pregnant? is that why?” he removes his arms from around you, searching for tissues to wipe your tears. he’s not sure how he feels, but he doesn’t dare let that show to you.

“I know that’s not what you want.”

“not what I want?” he asks pulling away and moving to sit in front of you now. his index finger taps you under the chin to lift your head up from being tucked into your shell, “you are what I want, and being the father to our child is a blessing despite the way it happened.”

“you want to do this with me?” you ask, a little smile peaking onto your lips, he does the same but his is fuller and much more confident than yours, “absolutely.”

“you know that means we have to tell everyone we’ve been secretly seeing each other for awhile.” you can hear your father telling you he has heart failure because of this.

“the reaction on my mothers face will be priceless.”

—

yourusername

yourusername cats out of the bag! surprise! new Red Bull team member coming soon❤️ @ maxverstappen1

liked by pierregasly, christianhorner, formula1, and 1,238,986 others

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| yourusername don’t worry I’m not leaving you and our kids 🫡 I’ll leave @ maxverstappen1 for you

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| yourusername keep wishing!

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[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

[gamerbearmira]

WOO WOO THE WHISTLE BLOWS

Ok. I decided to wait until today to post this (and totally not because I fell asleep) BUT LIKE. HERE'S THE FLUFF <33 POLSR EXPRESS AU❗❗❗

And a little animatic i put virtually no effort in the night before but. I gotta do SOMETHING to make up for what I posted last night 🥸

LEA GET IT

-----

Agustín was checking the time, his whistle in his other hand. The Polar Express was set to take off in only 10 minutes. Mirabel was excited, as it was her first time helping conduct the main cars. At first, she was only following Agustín around. But now, she could finally help conduct like he did.

Mirabel stood next to her father, giddily jumping in place. Agustín looked down at his 14-year-old daughter, smiling. "Excited hija?"

"Very!" Mirabel exclaimed happily, clutching his arm. "I get to finally work like you do!" Agustín laughed and ruffled her hair.

"Well we'll be heading off soon, so don't worry," he said, turning to walk inside to check the schedule. Mirabel stayed outside, excited. All the other kids the Encanto had already boarded, and she knew because she was the one who greeted and guided them, as well as gave them candy canes; like she did every year.

As Mirabel waited, she saw Casita's doors open. She saw Antonio rushing down the hill and to the train. He giggled as he held one of his teddy bears in his arms.

"Mira!" He smiled, the four-year-old hugging her youngest primo.

"Tonio! You're here!" Mirabel said, cuddling with him. She then showed him her hands, then reached behind his head, and pulled out a candy cane. As Antonio put it in his mouth, Agustín walked out, smiling at the sight of his sobrino.

"Hola Tio!" Antonio greeted and Agustín pinched Antonio's cheeks, eliciting a playful giggle from the boy.

"Hola Tonito. Are you excited about the Polar Express this year?" Agustin asked and Antonio enthusiastically nodded.

"Yeah! I can't wait to get to the North Pole," Antonio said, sticking the candy cane back into his mouth. The boy looked back at Casita, pausing, before taking it out and looking at his tio. "Tio?"

"Si?" Agustín said, half paying attention to Antonio, the other at his pocket watch.

"Can Isa, and Lola, and Lulu and Milo come?" Antonio asked, rattling off the names in excitement. Mirabel's eyebrows raised, and she looked at her father hopefully. She knew he was rather strict when it came to the Polar Express and how it ran but...she wouldn't lie, it could be fun.

Agustín quirked an eyebrow, looking at the pocket watch in his hand. He tapped his foot "I don't know..." He mused.

"Please papá? It's been forever since it was all of us! Plus, Antonio won't have to worry about being alone in the car anymore!" Mirabel pleaded.

Agustín pressed his lips together, looking at the watch, then Mirabel, then Antonio. He stepped back, looking into the car, then up and down the train. He sighed heavily, and Mirabel and Antonio lit up.

"5 minutes. You have 5 minutes to go back and get them. We're on a tight schedule, so don't be late," Agustín said. With an excited giggle, Mirabel rushed back to Casita, while Antonio waited alongside Agustín, his small hand gripping Agustín sleeve.

Mirabel rushed into Casita, scrambling up the stairs. "Casita, help me wake up my sisters and cousins!" She whispered. Casita gave an affirmative flip as she rushed off to Luisa's room.

Opening the door, she rushed into the stone room, running up to her sister, who was in bed. She shook her awake, and Luisa groggily looked at Mirabel.

"Mira? What are you doing?" Luisa asked, blinking away the sleep.

"Do you wanna go to the North Pole with me and papá?" Mirabel asked.

Luisa stared at Mirabel, processing what she said before shooting up. "Of course I do, let's go!" Mirabel was launched off the bed, but Luisa caught her, snatching her robe off the hook and slipping on the nearest pair of shoes.

Luisa left the room, Mirabel in her arms. Isabela was rubbing her eyes, her shoes and robe on. Dolores yawned, and Camilo was standing next to her.

"What's going on?" Camilo asked, noticing Luisa's excitement.

"We get to go to the North Pole!" Luisa said excitedly, placing Mirabel down and rushing out the door.

"Wait, the Polar Express is here?" Camilo said wide-eyed, and he was hot on Luisa's heels, barely clinging to his robe.

"What? The Polar Express isn't real, it's just a kid's story," Isabela said and Mirabel shook her head.

"Come on Isa, just trust me! You don't remember it, but it is real!" Mirabel grabbed both Isabela and Dolores's hands, practically dragging them out of the house. The two were protesting until they got outside. Their eyes widened as they saw the bright lights that lit up the cars of the large train that waited for them.

"It's real?" Dolores mumbled and Mirabel rushed down the hill with Isabela and Dolores in tow. Antonio had gotten on board in the car that was designated for Madrigals. He waved to Dolores from the window, still eating his candy cane.

Mirabel handed candy canes to her sisters and cousins, urging them onto the train. She checked her watch, it then struck 11:55 right as she got Isabela into the cart. Pulling out her whistle, she looked up and down and noted that all the doors were closed.

"Dolores, cover your ears!" Mirabel called and Dolores hastily did as her prima said. Mirabel blew her whistle, and the train started up, the train's own whistle going off. Mirabel hopped on, closing the door as the train chugged along the tracks that had magically appeared.

Antonio kicked his legs as he sat next to his brother, who was excited to be there as well, though probably not as much as Luisa, who was like a little kid on Christmas, unironically. Isabela and Dolores held their candy canes, looking around the cart.

As Mirabel wrote something on the schedule, Agustín walked into the car, a big smile on his face. "I see you made it in time!"

"Papá? It's...it's real? It's not a story?" Isabela said in shock and Agustín nodded. "Of course it's real! And we're going to the North Pole to see your tio."

"Papá Noel is our tio?!" Luisa said, her eyes lighting up, and she almost fell out of her seat, barely catching herself and her candy cane.

Agustín laughed and nodded. "Yes, he is. Mi hermano mayor. We just don't see him often, he's very busy," he explained. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see the rest of you this year as well, hm?"

"PAPÁ NOEL! OH MY GOSH!" Luisa screamed in excitement, crushing the candy canes in her hand. Dolores covered her ears, but easily understood Luisa's excitement. The other laughed at how excited she was, and honestly cpuldn't help but feel the same.

-----

WOWOWOWOWW❗❗❗ So cool, so fluff <333 I kinda wanna write more. Might be more active today since I visited family yesterday!! And. You can clearly see how excited Luisa is. She loves it because she gets to feel like a kid again and she's not working or anything. And she just like Christmas 😭

And I got new iPad!! LETS GOOOO❗❗❗ That's why I've been drawing with my finger <333

Anyway MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYYYYSSSSS <3333

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #encanto antonio #encanto isabela #encanto dolores #encanto luisa #encanto camilo #encanto agustin #polar express #the polar express #conductor Agustín au #polar express au

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

pretty please write a fic about squirmy, modern day Dolores— coming home from work and edged by Mariano? (Or an early, experimental girlfriend before him?) thank you!

I ABSOLUTELY wanna do some more modern au stuff? Lets do it!

"I'm home!"

Dolores shut the door behind her as soon as she entered. She was expecting to hear the sound of Isa in the kitchen, but she heard...grunting instead. And music, slightly muffled by earbuds. Super hearing gives you a lot of information in just a second, honestly. Sure enough, she found him in her room, doing pull ups thanks to the pull up bar he put right on her doorframe. She took a minute to just check him out, because why not? Her apartment, her boyfriend, she could look at him if she wanted.

She was dating THE Mariano. Aka, upcoming film star, model, and as of recently, and upcoming author. He was as sweet as he was absolutely built. Muscles for arms, muscles on his back that flexed as he pulled, and his ass looked GREAT in those sweatpants she got him. She heard the music die down (he was listening to Dolly Parton, and honestly she couldn't fault him for it), and he finally let go of the bar, landing on his feet. He started to wear thick socks to cushion the sound of his heavy gait, and it was honestly very sweet. She waited till he took his earbuds out, and she clicked her tongue at him.

"Been doing this all day?"

"Hey! You're home! How was the studio?"

Ugh, the way he pushed away his sweaty hair back in order to get a good look at him. He was too pretty for his own good.

"Eh, not too bad. The editing should be done soon, so we won't miss the release date. I'm tired though, I didn't even take my lunch break."

He frowned, putting his hand on the small of her back, and she totally wasn't checking out his abs.

"Well I made you dinner! We can heat it up, and I can help you relax a bit."

"You...made dinner?"

"Uh huh! And I did the dishes, swept, mopped, and watered Isabela's plants!"

"Wow. Where is she anyway?"

Mariano guided her to the couch, tossing her the comfy set of pajamas that she told herself she would clean when she got back. Turns out he did laundry too. He spoke to her as he dived into her tiny ass kitchen.

"She said she had another hand modeling job to do, then she had a swimsuit photoshoot. I made her a portion too, don't worry."

"What'd you make?"

She looked at him as she took off her bra, letting herself relax as her more comfortable shirt and pants covered her. He held up the tray for her to see, clearly proud of it.

"Meatloaf! I made mashed potatoes and greenbeans to go with it too. Sorry I didn't make dessert, I just got lazy and bought ice cream. I got it from the place you like though!"

She put her hand over her heart, swooning over this sweet as hell man.

"That's very...sweet of you. I didn't know you could cook."

"I can really only make this. And sandwiches. My grandma taught me. People are always surprised-do I look like I can't cook?"

"Baby, you didn't know how to open the creamer for your coffee yesterday."

He gestured to the rack of creamers, as if it offended him.

"You have tiny creamers! It's a lot for my big hands! Only reason I haven't chucked it is because it's not worth my time."

"And because you'd feel bad."

"I absolutely would, actually."

He nodded in agreement as he set the food in the oven, and set the timer on her microwave. Meanwhile, she plopped on the couch, and turned on some netflix, scrolling through the endless bunches of new crap. It was his account though, so she was gonna use it.

"When is it gonna be done, anyway?"

"Maybe thirty minutes. Would've been quicker if I left it out, but I forgot. Oh, and I bought you some groceries too, it looked a bit empty."

"Isa had half a yogurt in there, she's gonna lose her mind."

She chuckled, scooting over and patting the couch so he'd sit next to her. He did just that, wrapping an arm around her comfortably.

"You know what I never understood?"

"Hmm?"

"What animal is the pink panther?"

"What?"

"The pink panther, what the hell is he? I know he's not a tiger. Is he a lion?"

She couldn't help but gawk at him. God he was serious. And he was hot.

"Mariano?"

"Hmm?"

"Kiss me please."

He looked surprised, as if it was out of nowhere, but of course he did as she said. He cupped her face in his hand, and kissed her. Again, and again, to the point where they somehow ended up with him on top of her laying form. He pulled away for a moment, looking down at her through panting lips that quickly formed into an embarrassed chuckle.

"Sorry I uh. Smudged your lipstick."

"Mmph...it's no problem. At all. This red looks good on you."

She held onto his face, lightly rubbing his bottom lip with her finger. He looked good in red, especially on his blushing cheeks.

"Are we...doing what I think we're doing?"

"Depends. Do you want to?"

"Very much so, yes."

"Then yes, we are. What do you want to-"

He didn’t let her finish as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, decorating it in kisses. The scruff from his facial hair tickled her neck just right, and his hand drifting down her stomach was just heavenly.

"Dolores, you've had such a long day. I can see it on your pretty face. Let me take care of you, please."

She wanted to take care of him, but she just seemed to notice how exhausted she was, body feeling heavy at the thought of her doing too much work. She played with his hair, just how he liked it, before sighing in defeat.

"Okay, okay. You can take care of me."

He slipped his fingers past her pants, till he was rubbing her through her underwear, slowly and in little circles. He still kissed at her fair skin, occasionally whispering against it.

"I WAS going to eat you out, because I know you like that, but I want to talk to you. I like talking to my girlfriend. She's so pretty, and sweet, and funny, and talented."

She, with little force, tried not so very hard to push his face away with a chuckle. She didn't even have to try to be sexy for this man to want her, and it made her feel so...special.

"You're too much, you know that?"

"If anything, I'm not enough. I love everything about you. How soft you are, how nice your voice is...how your pussy is already getting wet."

He was really rubbing into her now, palm firm yet slow. She gripped tightly onto his hair, head falling back a bit as his teeth grazed her neck.

"Oh, y-you wanna be dirty now?"

"I wanna be good to you. I wanna be the best boyfriend, I wanna ruin your panties. You make a man very greedy, Dolores."

He was being such a tease, fingers dipping inside of her, yet separated by the fabric of her underwear. He was doing it on purpose, so he could watch her squirm, hear her swear under her breath everytime it felt like he'd actually be inside.

"Dios it sounds so LOUD when you do that..."

"What? When I play with your pussy like this? It's because you're wet, mi vida. You're so wet, you want me inside of you, anyway you can have me. I could do so much to you,"

She jumped a bit as he touched her clit, just for a second, forcing her nails to dig into his shirt and his scalp. She thought she hurt him, but if anything, she motivated his movements to go faster.

"I could pull your pants down, absolutely rail you into this couch. I could eat you out till I'm lost in your pussy. I could even make you hump the couch while I watch. But you know what I'm going to do?"

Her head was absolutely spinning at this sudden bout of dirty talk. Mariano never said such dirty things to her before, and she absolutely loved it. Man was a whole snack, so much sweetness, with just a PINCH of savory to keep her coming back.

"W-what are you going to do?"

His tongue dragged up her neck, slowly, till it reached her lips, shoving itself into her mouth as they shared a kiss.

"I'm going to finger that pretty pussy, and listen to every sound you make."

He wasn't kidding. His fingers finally slipped past her underwear, and pushed inside of her. The two fingers weren't gentle, fucking her in a frenzy, just how she enjoyed it. It was so loud, so wet sounding, only made worse when his big frame kept her from squirming too much.

"M-Mariano please, I can't-!"

Dolores was never able to hold it for long. It was something she tried to fix, but it was SO easy to make the poor girl cum. She was so close here, she could feel her toes curling. So close, so damn close-

"Ah ah ah. Not yet, mi cielo. That's too fast. I want to enjoy you. I want to cherish you."

She wined, the slight kiss to her ear being too much for her.

"Not fair! I thought you wanted to take care of your poor girlfriend..."

"You're just grumpy because you like this. You like it when I kiss your ear like this, don't you?"

She 'tried' to push away his face upon his lips reaching her ear. They were so sensitive, and he knew damn well what it did to her.

"Since when did you get so smug?"

"Since you reminded me how much I adore my girlfriend ~...let me give you more kisses."

He was building her back up again with those stupid fingers, ever so slowly increasing in speed, but only slightly. Meanwhile he started to nibble on her ear, giving it just the slightest pull with his perfect white teeth.

"Okay, y-you've had your fun, proved your point and all of that, you're pushing it."

"Someone is getting so snippy~...I can't tell if I like it. Oh wait, I think I do."

His palm pressed against her clit nice and firmly, making her squirm and writhe like an absolute bitch.

"I'm g-gonna kill you, this isn't fair-"

"What's not fair is how pretty you are. How you've been there almost twice, how you've been making all these sounds for me and...well, making me fall more and more in love with you. I don't know if I CAN let you cum, just because it means this would be over."

He was playing dirty, being so sweet, kissing just that perfect spot with his fingers and suckling on her ear enough to give her the tingles. So she knew she had to pull out the big guns. She pressed his nose against his, and mustered the sweetest voice she could.

"Pwetty pwetty pwease? For your little buho?"

His eyes softened like butter, and she knew she had him.

"I can't say no when you do that. Alright, give it to me, beautiful."

He was picking it up again, tugging on her ear just right, knuckles deep inside her, so fast and so perfect. She felt it in her stomach, felt her voice reduced to absolute whimpers, before he finally, FINALLY let her have it. Just the orgasm she needed after a full day of work. He fingered her through it, like a proper boyfriend should, only stopping when she got nice and limp underneath him. She let go of him, arms falling limp to the couches sides.

"Oh...thank you. So much."

"Oh my god- can you heteros NOT?"

Dolores jumped upon hearing the sound of Isa's voice. She stood there, holding her heels, looking at them in absolute disgust. Mariano was about to apologize when the oven dinged, and he sprang out of the couch in a second.

"MEATLOAF IS READY!"

Isa looked at Dolores, who was still in a state of post nut, and shock, brow raised.

"Wow. Malewifed him up already, huh?"

"Hey, he's more than that, I'll have you k-"

Mariano called out from the kitchen as he opened the oven.

"Hey Isa, settle a bet for us! What animal is the pink panther?!"

Isa looked down at her, hand on her hips.

"Ah right. He's also a himbo."

"He's. Joking."

"No he isn't, watch. He's a walrus, Mariano!"

"I KNEW IT!"

Dolores glared at the smug looking Isa, absolutely hating when she was right. At least he was HER himbo.

#not transformers #encanto #asks #lemon #modern au #listen this Mariano is fucking dumb #i stan by this #dumb and buff and oh so sweet #and rich so he can spoil his girlfriend

[today-only-happens-once]

In Pieces

Title: In Pieces

Word Count: 3698

Summary: Thomas may not have the whole picture, but he has enough of it. for @justisaisfine’s Sanders Bro AU. Familial LAMP/CALM, plus “guess I’m an uncle now” Thomas.

Warnings: parental abuse, food mention, yelling, cursing, physical abuse depicted through acting, sort of crying, I have no idea how real movie sets/filming work so it’s probably not accurate woops

Author’s note: I love Isa’s Sanders Bro AU an abnormal amount, probably. So of course I had to write a fic for it because I have no chill. Credit for the AU and the entire basis for the fic (from this post) is all to them. Please, please check out the AU on their blog because it is amazing. This fic certainly pales in comparison, but I hope it’s not too terrible. Heh. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but here it is regardless! Huge thanks to Isa for also answering my anon asks for clarification about a few things. Hope some of this isn’t too far off course. Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff@helloisthisusernametaken @ren-allen @lizaelsparrow @princelogical @random-pianist @ravenclawicecream @erlenmeyertrash​ @milomeepit @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes @rileyfirstname @pinkeasteregg @sassy-in-glasses@vigilantvirgil@generalfandomfabulousness@lacrimosathedark@thepoolofthedead @monikastec @heir-of-the-founders @yourworstnightmare999 @artistictaurean @kanejandkruge @cdragontogacotar@candiukas @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl@angst-patton@savingshae@noneed4thistbh@awesomelissawho@unikornavenger@bopthesnoz @spiralofsilencetheory@finger-gunsss @crownswriter123 @swlotakulady34 

…

“And cut!”

Roman grins brightly at Thomas—who has him shoved up against a brick wall with a prop knife to his throat—and the tension from the dramatic scene they’d just finished is suddenly cut (no pun intended) with one look. Thomas laughs and rolls his eyes, letting Roman shrug out of his grip.

“Good take, guys. Take a break,” the director calls out as she flips through notes.

Thomas hands the prop knife to one of the stage hands and thanks him with a sincere smile before following Roman to the snack table behind the assortment of cameras. The teen picks up a turkey club sandwich from the pile and shoves it unceremoniously into his mouth. Thomas picks up an apple. He doesn’t blame the kid, really; they’d been filming and rehearsing since six this morning without much time for a lunch break.

The constant movement on set is oddly comforting to Thomas. Stage hands hustle to get props and actors, the director is watching footage of the scene he had just filmed with Roman and talks about it in hushed voices with her producers. She casts a glance at Roman, and Thomas smiles. He knows that look. She’s impressed, and to be honest, Thomas is too. Roman is young—still a kid, really—but he’s got serious acting chops. It’s a wonder he didn’t break into the business sooner.

Thomas glances at the teen beside him and smiles faintly at the awed look in his eyes as he watches the action around him. They’re a few weeks into production on this movie, but Roman still looks like he can’t believe he’s actually here.

A few smaller kids for the orphanage scene—maybe five or six—chase each other around the set, shrieking in laughter. A few of the cast members seem vaguely annoyed at the added chaos, but Thomas doesn’t mind. They were quiet, talented, patient kids who knew to only wreak havoc between shots.

“Tag, you’re it!” a little girl shouts as she runs into a boy’s shoulder before sprinting away. The young boy—in his tattered clothes costume but his eyes bright and lively—spins around. His gaze seems to zero in on Roman, and the teen barely has time to react before the boy barrels right into his legs.

“Oof!” Roman says dramatically, doubling over—but not falling over, and Thomas is vaguely impressed by that—and capturing the boy his arms. “Argh, you cannot escape my grasp!”

“You’re it! You’re it! You’re it!” the boy yells, grinning as he tries to wriggle his way free.

“I’m it?” Roman announces, playfully holding onto the kid, “Are you sure about that? I’ll have you know, I’m a three time champion in the art of playing tag.” He’s grinning, something warm and twinkling in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh!” The boy barrels out of Roman’s arms, and the Sanders teen lets him break right out of his grasp.

“You don’t believe me?” he says, throwing the back of his hand to his forehead. “I suppose I’ll have no choice but to prove it to you!” The boy shrieks with laughter as Roman chases after him.

Thomas crosses his arms over his chest and watches his coworker chase the kids around the set. A few people stop and watch the chaos unfold as well, but most people don’t mind too much. They’re between takes anyway, and he’s keeping the kids occupied in the very least. Thomas watches as one of them leaps up onto Roman’s back and feels his heart jump, but Roman only stumbles a step or two before hooking his arms underneath the kid’s legs in a piggy-back ride and running the kid around the set a few times.

“Roman! Thomas!” The director calls out. “We’re gonna need to do that scene again. I want to try some different camera work. Be ready in five.”

Roman looks over at the sound of his name and nods. He lowers the kid on his back to the ground, says something to him that Thomas doesn’t quite catch, and they both exchange a mock salute before Roman jogs back to the table.

“You’re so good with them,” a voice speaks up as Roman returns by the snack table. Thomas looks over his shoulder to see Valerie taking a cracker off the plate.

Roman smiles slightly and lifts a shoulder. “I have three younger brothers.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Valerie says, having seen Logan, Patton, and Virgil a couple of times over the past few weeks. “You’re all so cute. I bet your parents are so proud of you!”

Roman seems suddenly very interested in the cheese cubes on the table by the crackers. He picks one up and pops it in his mouth. “I gotta get back to set,” he says, in a voice that sounds just a little tight to Thomas.

“Oh,” Valerie says to Roman’s retreating form, her voice still bright and friendly, if a bit confused. “Of course! Good luck!”

…

“What do you mean you can’t make it tomorrow?” the producer says, his voice rising. It’s a month or so later. Thomas stops mid-sentence and looks over towards the noise. A young intern with short hair and big glasses seems to shirk away from the volume, and Thomas sighs.

“I mean, I’m sorry, it’s just….” The girl stammers, adjusting the frame of her glasses.

Most people around the set are keeping themselves busy, ignoring the exchange. The producer is known for his temper, after all, and few people paid attention when the interns were getting reamed out. A small number were trying not to stare at the exchange, and a few others appeared to not be listening but—when looked at closer—could be shown to be listening regardless. Across the set, Roman Sanders seems to have fallen into the latter of the group, staring a little too intently at the script in his hands.

“I gave you this break!” the producer shouts at her, his face red. “This is a real job, sweetheart, and you don’t get to just come and go as you please!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas sees Roman snap the script close and toss it onto the table in front of him. There’s something tight in his jaw, squared in his shoulders, something aged in his eyes… Even the producer looks taken aback when he realizes that Roman is walking towards him.

“I think,” Roman says, in a calm and measured voice that Thomas wouldn’t have even been able to hear if it wasn’t dead silent on set, “that she can hear you plenty well when you speak normally, sir.”

The producer blinks in surprise—even Thomas feels a bit taken aback by the new actor’s courage—before spluttering an indignant reply. “This isn’t any of your business, boy.”

“Perhaps not,” Roman replies, his voice still remarkably cool and composed. It stands in stark contrast to the producer’s indignant shouting a moment ago.  “But it’s certainly hard to ignore when you’re screaming about it. Perhaps you should take a moment to calm down before discussing the matter further.”

Roman’s words seem to make the producer suddenly and startlingly aware of the people around them. At the sharp stare of the producer, most onlookers duck their heads and busy themselves with rehearsing lines, checking mics, finding their shoes suddenly fascinating. Thomas quietly meets the producer’s gaze with a steady one of his own. He doesn’t know what his expression shows, but Roman is right, and Thomas is fully prepared to come to his defense if the producer tries anything.

The producer grumbles something in a low voice and storms off. Thomas watches as Roman seems to relax back into his usual warm persona. Regular chatter and the sounds Thomas had come to associate with the backstage-between-takes bustle of the movie business filter back up. Roman flashes a smile at the intern, and Thomas reads his lips as he asks, “You okay?”

The young girl nods, smiling faintly back. The girl, by Thomas’s best guess, is probably around sixteen or seventeen, making Roman only a year or so older than her. But there’s a brief moment where Thomas can’t help but feel like Roman looks so much older for his age. A weariness and weight in his eyes, visible even across the room but only for a fraction of a second.

And then the bright, flamboyant, excitable kid is back as he laughs at something she says and responds easily. He shakes her hand, inclines his head, and then walks back to pick up his script and goes right back to rehearsing.

…

“Action!” the director calls a week later.

Thomas slips into character effortlessly, his hands fisting at his sides as he marches up to Roman and grabbing his shoulder. The fight is choreographed flawlessly—the coordinators were impeccable, honestly—and both Thomas and Roman had been working on this exact scene for weeks.

“What the—“ Roman says, delivering his line with just the right amount of surprise, eyes widening and ducking Thomas’s flying fist just in time. Thomas stumbles in just the right way, and Roman throws up his hands as if to protect his face. “Calm down!”

“Calm down?” Thomas snarls. “You nearly got us killed out there!”

Roman shifts his weight as Thomas delivers his line and is ready when the older actor barrels into him, sending him careening back into the ladder on set. It breaks away and collapses on top of him. Roman lets out a frustrated huff before scrambling to his feet.

“That wasn’t me! Would you just—“ he ducks another of Thomas’s punches, throwing an elbow in retaliation.

“Cut!” the director calls out, a slight note of annoyance. Thomas sees confusion and a bit of self-doubt flicker through Roman’s eyes, but Thomas is confused too. It was a good take. Or at least, it had felt good to Thomas.

“Sorry, guys,” the director sighs. “You were great. Our mic levels are off. Can we get a sound check? You guys take a break.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas sees a relieved smile flicker across Roman’s face.

“Nice job,” Thomas tells him sincerely. “That would’ve been a good take if the mics had been working.”

Roman laughs. The two of them make their way over a few yards across the warehouse behind the cameras.

Roman’s three brothers sit near a stack of shipping cargo. Logan—sixteen, Thomas remembers—is sitting with his back against the cargo and a textbook propped open in his lap. Patton is talking quietly but excitedly with Valerie. And Virgil (Thomas still wasn’t sure he entirely believed that he is eight years old, given just how small he is) is sitting beside Logan, so close their arms are brushing. He has some kind of homework worksheet on the cement floor in front of him, but his eyes are glued to something in the textbook in Logan’s lap.

“Hey guys,” Roman greets warmly. “How are we doing over here?”

“Satisfactory,” Logan replies, his eyes lingering on the textbook page before flickering up to meet his older brother’s.

“Good!” Patton chimes in. “Valerie and I were comparing favorite Disney songs. She has good taste.”

Valerie laughs. “Why thank you, Patton. So do you.”

Roman smiles at the exchange. “Good to hear.” With a dramatic groan, Roman takes a seat on the floor beside Virgil. “What about you, Virge? Doing okay?” Thomas notices—not for the first time—how his voice seems a little softer when he asks Virgil.

The youngest brother nods.

Roman arcs an eyebrow. Thomas sees him exchange a glance with Logan over Virgil’s head. Thomas can’t decipher the unspoken conversation they seem to have, but whatever is exchanged seems to relax Roman a bit. The teen leans back a bit into the boxes behind them.

“Hey, Thomas,” Patton says suddenly. “What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

The question surprises the actor. “Favorite Disney movie… hm…” Thomas sucks in a breath through his teeth and rubs the back of his neck. “That’s a hard question. If I have to choose one, I suppose Aladdin.”

Patton nods thoughtfully. “That’s a good choice.”

“It was awesome talking to you, Patton, but I gotta go to makeup. You’ll have to teach me the words to ‘Almost There’ one of these days, though.” She smiles as Patton promises to do so, then hurries off. The five of them lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment before Roman breaks it.

“Thomas and I are about to shoot that scene you guys saw us walk through a few weeks back,” he supplies conversationally.

Thomas’s lips quirk into a smile at the memory. One of the days Roman had brought his brothers along a few weeks back, he and Roman had done a dry run through of the fight scene. Both Patton and Virgil had been about ready to tackle Thomas in defense of their brother—or more accurately, to ensure he didn’t get injured. He and Roman had then proceeded to go through the fight blow by blow in slow motion to show them how the fight wouldn’t actually hurt Roman at all.

“Yep,” Thomas adds. “You guys can watch your brother beat me up today, if you want.”

Roman snorts. “Something like that.”

“Thomas,” one of the actors—Terrence—calls from a few feet away, waving a book of papers, “Is this your script?”

Thomas jogs over and snatches it back, thanking him before heading back over to the brothers.

Logan has turned the page of his textbook—it’s a science textbook, Thomas can see now—and points something out to Virgil who is still looking at it over his older brother’s shoulder. Roman also seems interested in whatever Logan is saying quietly to his brothers. Patton raises his eyebrows, then shifts to sit across from Logan, who tilts his textbook towards his younger brother and points to a picture of a nebulous star.

Logan, who had always seemed to Thomas to be very quiet, is explaining something to his three brothers and Thomas has the odd feeling that if he were to try to listen in, he may be intruding. It wasn’t that the four of them were cold—to the contrary, they were some of the warmest and kindest kids Thomas had ever met—but they had a certain close-knit aura around them that Thomas felt was different than other families. Certainly different from his own.

“Hey! Thomas! Roman!” one of the cast-mates calls, jogging over. Logan stops talking, glancing up at the new face. “Are you guys coming to Marco’s after filming wraps today?”

Thomas thinks about it, but Roman’s response comes immediately. “Sorry, Alex. I can’t.” The answer hardly surprises Thomas—he’s not sure he’s ever heard the teen accept an invitation to do something after filming.

“I’ll think about it,” Thomas replies.

Alex opens his mouth to say something, looking vaguely disappointed, but the director’s voice cuts through the air.

“Thomas! Roman! You guys are back on. Same scene from the top. Sorry for the delay.”

…

Months pass, and Thomas can’t help but see the patterns.

Roman having this way of quickly shutting people down who yell during an argument, the way he never accepts invitations to do things after filming, how quickly he deflects any mention of his parents being proud of him… at first, Thomas had written the latter off as humility, but there was always something forced behind the smile and indifference that didn’t quite sit well in the older actor’s stomach. There was also something about the way Roman and his brothers interacted with one another that Thomas didn’t quite understand—quiet, tight-knit, and protective.

Thomas doesn’t really know what it all means. Or even if it means anything. He could be reading into things more than they really warranted. Right?

Right.

Thomas pops a grape into his mouth and wanders over to stand beside Roman, watching the scene being filmed from behind the camera. He and Roman just wrapped on a scene and were scheduled to be next anyway, so both of them had elected to linger around and watch the next scene get shot.

It’s one the of the flashback scenes for Thomas’s character, evidenced by the set being the kitchen of a home rather than a warzone. The actor playing younger Thomas—around ten years old—does bear a striking resemblance to 26 year-old. The only other person in the scene is the actress playing the mother.

“Don’t you ever stop talking?!” the mother demands, the fury looking real and tangible in her eyes. Thomas has to admit—the actress playing the mother was exceptional at her job. Thomas had filmed another movie with her before, and she was a really sweet lady in real life.

The kid, also, is quite good. “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted…” he stammers, stumbling back.

Before Thomas can even blink, the mother hits her son across the face with the back of her hand. Beside him, Thomas sees Roman visibly flinch. When he glances at him out of the corner of his eye, he notices Roman is looking very pointedly at his shoes.

“What did I just say, kid?” the mother growls. “God, you never shut the fuck up!”

Roman seems to be standing suddenly very still. Concerned, Thomas looks at him more fully, but Roman won’t meet his gaze. His arms are crossed over his chest, and there’s something about the way his shoulders are hunched ever so slightly that makes Thomas suddenly and acutely aware that this kid beside him is a kid. And somehow, he looks and acts much older than that.

Something clicks. His brothers and their relationship with one another, the way Roman always deflected questions and comments about his parents, the way he didn’t tolerate yelling and never went out after filming, the way he flinched just now…

Thomas doesn’t have the full picture, but it’s all in a hazy focus that is just enough. Whatever Roman is dealing with, Thomas can’t help but feel like it’s something much bigger and much worse than any kid his age should have to handle. It’s not something someone his age should have to shoulder.

At least not alone.

“Cut!” The director yells a moment later. “Great take. I wanna run that one more time, then we’ll move on. Take a break, though.”

It’s, apparently, all the encouragement Roman needs. Because the young actor turns without saying a word to Thomas and walks off the set. Thomas follows after him.

…

Thomas hesitates for a moment outside Roman’s trailer, his breath making small clouds in front of his face in the brisk late autumn air. He remembers the look of pure disbelief, quickly overshadowed by excitement, when Roman had learned he’d be getting his own trailer for the movie. Thomas hadn’t even thought much about it—Roman had a number of costume changes, plus a not in-substantial role that necessitated long days of filming—but seeing Roman’s vaguely awed look had reminded him of himself when he’d gotten his first big role in a movie. He’d been just a little older than Roman at the time.

Thomas knocks softly on the door. “Roman?”

There’s a brief pause, then a hurried and slightly muffled, “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

“We have a while,” Thomas replies, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “But I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

Another pause, then the door swings open. Roman looks more composed than he had just a moment ago, his face now one of confusion and perhaps a bit of nervousness. “Of course. What’s up?” He shifts to the side, giving Thomas room as he steps up into the trailer.

The trailer is messy and generic; very little of Roman expressed in the small space. There’s a blanket on the couch that was provided when the temperature had started to drop. Some discarded shoes on the floor. Roman’s normal clothes tossed over a plastic chair in the corner. Roman shifts past him and rubs the back of his head before taking a seat on the far end of the couch.

“Roman…” Thomas begins, feeling suddenly unsure of where to start but knowing that he has to say something. He looks at the teen sitting in front of him and sighs. “Are you okay?”

Roman throws him a brilliant smile. “Of course, Thomas. Just, uh…” The smile falters for only a fraction of a second, then stays in place. He lifts a shoulder. “Y’know.”

Thomas gives him a soft, knowing look. “I don’t, actually. Not really.” He takes a seat on the couch beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “And that’s okay. I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for. But…” Thomas holds Roman’s wide stare. “But I’ve got your back. And I’ve got your brothers’ backs.”

Roman is shaking his head, words tumbling out of his mouth even as his eyes start to shine. “Thomas—“ Roman says, and Thomas pretends he doesn’t hear the way his voice cracks just a little.

“I mean it,” Thomas says, with as much sincerity and earnestness as he can because he needs Roman to know it and believe it. “Any of you need anything—anything at all—you have my number. I’ll be there. That’s a promise.”

Roman opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it. He scrubs a hand across his eyes and sniffles. “Okay,” he says, in a soft, choked voice. He coughs to clear it. “I… thank you.”

Thomas gives him a small smile. “Any time. I mean that.”

Roman releases a watery laugh. “Yeah, I know you do.”

Thomas thinks of Roman’s bright energy and aged eyes. Of the quiet way Logan always seems to have words pressing against his lips but for some reason, holds them back more than he speaks. Or the way Patton’s warm smile and sincere curiosity makes every person feel seen, even though Patton is so much younger. Or how Virgil looks at his brothers like he’d move mountains just for them.

“Good,” Thomas replies softly. “Because you guys are a good group of kids.”

…

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders bro au #familial lamp/calm #familial lamp/calm fanfiction #tw angst #tw abuse #tw physical abuse #tw parental abuse #tw cursing #tw yelling #i literally dont know how i feel about this fic but i wanted to post it anyway #because i worked on it for a while y'know #meep #maybe one day it won't be intimidating to post fic but that day is not today #hope its enjoyable! #and please go check out isa's au #also sorry mobile users #its kinda longish

[celamoon]

Do you write for Camilo now? Could you write hanahaki for him? Reader (she) has it and it takes him a WHILE to find out, almost too late. If not, that’s ok too, have a lovely day!

I wanna say no and write the other requests in my inbox but Camilo has be in a literal chokehold rn so yes I am writing this instead of my other ones (つω`｡) (I also don't like how this turned out sorry </3)

Orchids

Hanahaki au

Flowers aren't meant to be thrown up. Or, when you eat flowers, you're not supposed to be throwing them up in one piece.

You, on the other hand, wake up to a hard cough. Rushing to the bathroom in fear of actually throwing up from the itch in the back of your throat, you cough out four orchid petals into the toilet. You sit there, staring at the flowers in there for a long time, before rushing to find Isabela to see if she knew anything about it.

"Mi vida-" You brush past Camilo, shooting him an apologetic smile, and make a beeline to Isabela's room.

"Isa." You pant. "Please tell me you know something about flower related diseases."

Isabela stares at you, and you avoid the cacti on the ground before rushing to her.

"Flower related diseases?"

"Please? I haven't ingested any flowers, but I woke up to a hard cough and threw up like four petals. Am I going to die?" You shake from the fear, and you feel your throat contracting again. "Gimme a sec-"

You cough harshly, and you catch the petals that fly out in your hands. "See?"

Isabela's eyes widen. "Stay here for a moment; I'll call mi mama. She might know more."

You sit there, staring at the petals. They look like orchids, and if you weren't mistaken, purple orchids usually meant respect. You found it ironic; maybe this was the universe telling you that Camilo only respected you. You observe the petals and discover that there's no blood or anything.

"Mi amor," Julieta rushes to you, and she checks your throat. "Are you ok? Is it hard to breathe?"

"No," You shake your head. "I'm fine. There's just a little scratch in my throat. What is it?"

"Are you in love with someone?"

Her question catches you off guard. In... love? You think about it, and you realize that you do. Should you tell her about it? You sit there, staring into nothing, and Julieta rubs circles on your hand.

"Mi amor." She smiles. "This isn't something I can cure. I've tried before with another villager."

You purse your lips. "Will... I die from it?"

Julieta sits down next to you. "No, mi amor. There's a chance that you will, but if the person returns your feelings, then you'll be fine."

Maybe that's what it was. When you leave the room, you don't stop by Camilo's place like you usually do; You head home.

"Mi pequeño," Your mom sits you down. "Are you alright?"

You manage to nod, and your mom has you rest for the rest of the day.

Petals don't get easier to hold back. They become part of your day-to-day routine. Waking up, throwing up, eating, throwing up, going to the plaza to get food, throwing up near a tree, heading home, throwing up... a flower bud?

Your heart rams against your chest. Were you already progressing to the second stage? Your lungs feel heavier as the week passes. You can't keep hiding from Camilo like this. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Can you?

You smile. You absolutely can.

So you keep yourself inside for another week or so. The flower buds eventually turn into a half bloomed flower painted in blood. It gets harder to breathe with each day, and Julieta's arepas haven't helped.

"Mi hija! Isabela's here!" You peek past your door, and she walks in.

"Are you feeling better?"

"You literally saw me throw up a half bloomed orchid two days ago. Yes, I am better." Your voice drips with sarcasm. "The flowers are fully bloomed."

You show her the newest flower, and you watch her swallow.

"And Tía's arepas aren't helping?"

"You were there when she-" You pause. "Camilo, what are you doing."

Camilo shifts back into himself, and he fiddles with his fingers. "I... You stopped talking to me, so I wondered if something happened."

You blink at him, and you feel another flower crawling its way up your throat. "Give me a second."

You turn to the side, and the flower falls out of your mouth. "Do you like my magic trick?"

Camilo's eyes widen in horror, and he cups your face. "Mi vida! This isn't good! Why didn't you tell me? Who are you in love with? I'll get an answer out of them for you-"

You cough harshly, and a handful of flowers make their way out of your mouth. "Shut up for three minutes, please, Camilo."

You hit your chest twice, and you let the final flower slip out. "Sorry. No, you don't need to help me. I'll just die alone."

"Mi vida-"

"It'd be nice if I get to hear a confession out of his mouth, though." You grumble, and you stare at him. His eyes are watery.

"Are you crying? I'm sorry, please don't cry-" You cup his face, ignoring the flowers burning your lungs.

"I just," Camilo mumbles weakly. "I just don't want you to die. Hell, I'm head over heels in love with you... please, let me help. I'll do anything."

Camilo shakes from his tears, and you cough. A final flower falls from your mouth, and you can breathe again.

"'MILO!" You shake him. "I'M ALIVE! IT WORKED! I'M NOT GONNA DIE ANYMORE-"

Camilo stares at you, tears still running down his face.

"Who were you in love with...?

"You." You hug him, laughing. "It was you. It's always been you."

Camilo rests his face in the crook of your neck, quiet sobs leaving his mouth. He can't find it in himself to stop crying.

"Let it out." You mumble. "I'm not going anywhere."

And you won't for a long time.

--- ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ---

I'm not taking any Camilo requests after this! Ty for being understanding <3

#mans had 6 minutes of screentime and woke up and chose violence #I HAVE FINALS COMING UP #FINALS!!! #and here I am writing Camilo fics like my life depends on it smh #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo x reader #camilo madrigal #encanto x reader

[drunkjaked]

COLOGNE ft park jongseong (teaser)

e2l + college / summer au + 1199 words

“Please, please, please come tonight.” Sumin pleads, getting down on her knees at YN’s feet. “It’s an open bar for girls on the netball team.”

“Wow, sounds like the netball girls are gonna have a good night.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing Sumin by the arm to try and pull her off the ground.

To no avail.

She huffs, shaking her arm free of YN’s hold. “Yes, and I’m a netball girl so it sounds like my friends are gonna have a good night too.”

“You’ll be the only person I know there.”

“False, you know Isa, you’re friends with Isa.”

And while Isa is a (genuinely) sweet girl, to say she and YN are friends seems like a stretch. All things consi-“Besides having the same taste in guys, I’m not sure what you have to talk with her about.” Jake (very unhelpfully) offers.

At this, Sumin jumps to her feet. “Speak of the Devil, Heeseung’ll be there too! There, now you have three friends at the mixer.”

YN hates the frown that forms on her face at the mention of his name. Heeseung didn’t tell her he was going. “Heeseung didn’t tell me he was going.”

“Well, that’s because Isa hasn’t actually asked him yet, but he won’t say no when he finds out his best friend in the whole world’s gonna be there!”

“Do you mean Jay or YN?” Jake asks, and it’s a good question because she hadn’t even considered that Sumin might have been referring to P*rk J*ngseong.

“Park Jongseong’s gonna be there and you thought that would be a selling point for me?” YN scrunches up her nose as she says his name.

“It’s literally a party for the girls netball team, of course Park Jongseong’s gonna be there.” Sumin scoffs. “And would you just call him Jay already? You’re being obnoxious.”

And it’s not as if she doesn’t know she’s being obnoxious but it’s been years now, so at this point it’s merely a matter of principle.

With a roll of her eyes, Sumin begins her (usual) rant about how: by not calling him Jay you’re on-She stops short when YN’s phone goes off in her back pocket. “That’s him isn’t it? I recognise the text tone.”

Recognise the text tone, what are you talking about? YN mumbles.

“Every time your phone goes off like that you groan when you check it.”

“You change your text tones?” Jake asks, a wide grin spreading on his face. “What’s mine? Wait, don't tell me-” He digs in his pockets looking for his phone. “-I’ll text you right now.”

There’s a part of YN that’s not entirely sure she’ll be able to handle the disappo- “Oh.” The smile falls from his face at the sound of the default text tone.

“His is the only one I changed.”

Sumin hums at this, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting a suspicious glance in YN’s direction. “Sounds romantic.” She concludes.

YN decides to ignore her in the hopes that this new train of thought might distract her from the netball mixer later on. Pulling her phone from her pocket she (and Sumin - who peers from over her shoulder) sees that Sumin was right (not that they had any doubts).

Park Jongseong: i got a 95 wbu loser?

A 95 is a little higher than what makes her comfortable, and she feels her heart rate pick up a little as she logs onto the student portal to check what grade she got.

A sigh of relief.

YN: sry to hear abt the low grade jongseongie :((((

YN: i got a 97

Park Jongseong: enjoy ur victory while it lasts.

“Aww.” Sumin starts - collapsing onto the couch to curl up next to Jake. “Another day of Jay and YN pretending to hate each other.”

“It’s not pretend.” YN huffs, putting her phone back in her pocket.

“Consider tonight a congrats party.” Jake starts. “Wooo! Go, YN! You scored higher than Ja-” He’s cut off by a swift nudge to the stomach from Sumin. “Higher than Jongseong.” He groans, keeling over.

Despite her reluctance, attending Sumin’s netball mixer isn’t a mistake and they’ve been passing her team jacket back and forth between the two of them to get as many free drinks as they can.

Which, to their credit, is working very well.

And a somewhat familiar 808 beat rattles through tinny speakers in the student union as YN tries to spot where she’d left Sumin with some members of the team, doing her best not to spill any of the three drinks she’s holding.

In all of the 7 (she’s counting) steps she’s taken so far she hasn’t spil-“Hey, lose- what is this?” Jongseong greets, cutting himself off at the sight of YN in the team jacket, holding onto its sleeve and craning his neck to read the back of it. “I never pegged you as a baller, maybe you’re more my type than I thought.”

YN scoffs. “Don’t insult me, Park.” And it takes everything in her not to react to the way some of her drink spills on her leg when she nudges out of his hold - though he’s quick to let go, holding both of his hands up in surrender.

He blows some hair from his forehead. “Is this a bad time to tell you I think it’s hot when you say my surname like that?” And it takes every ounce of willpower YN possesses not to slap the smirk from his stupid face when he speaks.

“Fuck you.”

His stupid smirk stays for a moment before he pulls air through his teeth, tilting his head at her. "I'm guessing it was a bad time?"

"How do you have the top grade in any class?" The irritation is evident in her voice as she speaks, pushing onto her tiptoes trying (and failing) to see over his shoulders.

Jongseong ‘thinks’ about it for a moment, giving a thoughtful hum as he clutches his chin between his pointer finger and thumb. "Hard work and determination." He answers, moving to lead the way, facing her as he walks backwards.

She snorts at this. "I don't believe that you've done any hard work in your life."

The smirk returns and he lifts the hem of his shirt up a bit, the tiniest peek of his toned stomach staring her dead in the eye. "Well, I can show you hard work if you want."

"You are disgusting."

He stops walking and it’s so abrupt that YN almost spills (more of) the drinks. Jongseong’s hand is big on her cheek when he holds it. And this definitely is might be the most repulsive interaction they’ve ever had.

“I could tea-”And thankfully before he can finish his sentence, someone calls out his name. His hand stays on YN’s face when he looks over his shoulder, head nodding at whoever shouted for him - greeting them with an On the way, bro.

There’s a smile on his face when he looks back at her and with two soft pats to her cheek and the words: Later, loser, Park Jongseong is gone.

And somehow he’s taken one of her drinks with him.

okay. this is the teaser.. duh.. please lmk ur thoughts i really would appreciate it also if u perhaps want to be in a taglist for it then lmk abt that too :D

©drunkjaked (2022) ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,

masterlist | other jay fics

#enhypen fic #enhypen jay fic #enhypen jay e2l #park jongseong fic #enhypen jay #park jongseong #jay ! #drunkjaked: cologne

[isamiral-soulwolf]

Hello it's been a while. Hope you are doing good? I have the most delicious idea that came out from seeing alot of the evil ! Mardrigal AU's. I'm sure you can already see where i'm going with this but allow me to elaborate because this was the scene in my head:

##

A man frantically runs through the Encanto in the dead of night, huffing and puffing, too afraid to glance backwards as quick and heavy steps follow after him. Getting to the town square he finds a few stragglers milling about happily as he desperately calls out "please somebody help me please!!"

His please are for naught as a dark silhouette zeroes in, throwing him to the ground. A green glint of glasses starkly contrast to the dark clothes worn by his tormentor who grins back at him in a wide and frightening manner.

"No one will help you here little doll, this is our home and we've got every generation beholden to us," Mirabel giggles allowing the man to crawl on the floor away from her.

However, just as he is about to stand, Mirabel lifts her foot and smashes down on his ankle incapacitating the man who howls in pain and fear. The people around them look away, too afraid to help the man.

"Now now, there's no need to act like this. You knew what would happen when you spoke ill of my family, yes" she continued pulling some metal wires from her pocket tying it around the mans limbs.

She lets him crawl away and claw at the wires, laughing as his actions produced no results except further injury as she pulled on the wires causing them to tighten and dig into the man's flesh. Her little playtime was interrupted by a sweet voice that called out to her.

"Mira? What are you doing? You know we don't have time be playing around, dinner will be starting soon" Isabela said as she walked up to her little sister who was squat next to her prey.

The older Madrigal looked like a vision, beautiful and deadly in her black dress with hints of colour tastefully splattered on. Mirabel wasn't sure whether the red on her dress was blood but frankly she didn't care.

"I'm sorry Isa, I was getting you a toy see," she replied tugging on the wired man like a puppet on strings.

"I'm no one's toy you deranged pieces of ****" the man spat out in anger.

Mirabel frowned, standing up only to drive a knife into the man's stomach, kicking him to floor, and swinging the knife down near where his head laid.

"I'm sorry Isa, it seems I made a mistake. I could never give you such a rude mouth toy" she stated, eyes wide and face blank as she stared down at the bleeding man.

A hand comes up and covers her eyes dragging Mirabel's head to rest against Isabela's torso, "there there Mira. It's okay, I'm sure I can still find uses for your toy. Perhaps a test subject for my newest poison" she replied stroking her younger sisters hair.

"Now why don't we head home. I hear mami is making your favourite" Isabela said, using her vines to drag the mans body back to Casita.

"Oooh Lechona? We haven't had that in while" Mirabel replied happily, swinging their joined hands as they made their way home.

##

This felt longer than it was supposed to be but yeah. Hope you liked it and maybe your own thoughts on this sort of dynamic between them?

Well first, I'd be doing everyone a great disservice if I didn't take a moment to mention @themountainsays and the serial killer/stalker Isalores AU, which is incredible and I highly recommend checking out those posts!

As for evil Madrigals, it's definitely not a new idea in fandom but I have to say the thought of all of them being a completely villainous family, Mirabel included, is very interesting! From what you wrote here it sounds like instead of believing the miracle should be used to help the town, Alma hung it over the villagers' heads that their magic saved them all? That does sound like a horror story, just imagine an entire family of magic users basically reminding you constantly that you only survived because of them. Oof.

And Mirabel herself, I like it! The implication that even giftless Mirabel was completely accepted into the family is an interesting one, and I'm sure you could take it in any number of directions for why; you don't need a gift to kill people, after all. In fact, Mirabel may even be useful giftless as an innocent face to lure victims in? Hm, that's a thought...

That said, I'm also intrigued by the little hint that Isabela is actually still trying to preserve at least some of Mirabel's innocence, though uh, sorry Isa, I think you missed your window there. It's an interesting dynamic for sure, and thank you for sharing! I always enjoy seeing you in my inbox

#althemelord #ask #isamira #madrigalcest #not my writing

[thequibblah]

can you recommend me some jily fics to read? im in desperate need of new material and have already read all of yours twice !!

boy oh boy yes!!!! here is my full tag for recs but let me tell u a couple of my must-reads of late:

i am both suffering and thriving with some with arrows, some with traps by @isahorcrux, an incredibly clever much ado about nothing celebrity AU (literally i could maybe write an essay about the use of miscommunication and the borrowing of the rumour-spreading A plot from the original play via everyone's favourite celebrity AU character DEUXMOI!!!! isa you icon)

as everyone and their mothers know, i am but a humble pilgrim following the @clare-with-no-i trail (idk if that metaphor holds up but don't question it). assuming by some miracle u haven't read any of clare's fic, try theogony (outlander au but make it ancient greece), foreigner's god (soulmates in a past life au idk there's a better way to say this but i'm lazy), or the recently posted mellow is the man (jily meet at a led zeppelin concert and basically music is a religious experience), but at risk of being incredibly embarrassing to ur friend on the internet, i can say with no reservation that ur golden whichever of her work u pick

was gut-punched fantastically by @firefeufuego2's it would have been sweet (sad ol' muggle au), should you be on the lookout for suffering

@theesteemedladydebourgh is so funny and clever and you should check out good old fashioned love letters (muggle au), but you really can't go wrong with her fic

i am so excited to see where @cesays takes come what may (moulin rouge au)! and if enough people read head over heels and tell her she should become a full-time humour writer for my personal health, that would be really nice xx

tender objects (muggle au) by flagpoles is an all time favourite i promise it's not as sad as it sounds

@emerqldv's this side of the universe (muggle au) is also an emotional killer ;__;

ok lets be fun again @oyprongs is working on a people we meet on vacation au and im SOOOO hype, check out let’s fall apart and start again!!

that's all off the top of my head but again my tag is pretty chock-full of recs and i do bookmark pretty often on ao3 :~) enjooooy and please let me know when you read so we can squee together!

#i dont write or read angst why are so many of these sad #anyway #jily recs #ask me #anon

[shintorikhazumi]

She Likes Blues- PASTEL Blues (2)

A/N: Because I love you and this brilliant concept Isa. So i decided to expound on the au... a little. Concept creds go to the ever brilliant @tanuki-pyon

This is a continuation to one of my drabbles. Treat it as chap 1. It’s just gonna be more dumb au stuff so... ayt.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi.

She Likes Blues- PASTEL Blues (2): It’s A Date!

“I’m your roommate.” Akko managed to lamely state.

The girl in front of her stared at her hand a good, long while making Akko grow more and more nervous by the second.

“Um...miss?”

“Oh, apologies. Yes, yes... Um...” Temporarily placing her phone down on a nearby shelf, Akko watched roommate extend a hand which she gladly took. “Diana.” She curtly said.

“A-Akko.”

“Charmed.” Diana said sweetly, taking her hand back. She gave Akko a quick once-over, and the brunette nervously shuffled her socked feet along the carpet.

“Mi-miss D-Diana?”

“Hmm...” The girl tapped her cheek thoughtfully with a manicured index finger, sucking in the side of her cheek before her expression changed into a friendly smile. Clapping her hands together, she asked, “Ever tried pastel pink or a salmon color?”

Akko stared at her, bewildered.

“What?”

“Clothes. Wearing those colors. Have you ever worn mini-skirts or a sundress? Hmm... Maybe we could find something that would suit you... would Hannah match your size?”

“Um... Miss Diana...?”

“But Barbara might have some nice colors that would match your complexion as well.”

What was... going on?

“You’re ‘all-black’ style looks lovely and all, love-”

‘Love?!’

“But I do believe you could pull off some of the most gorgeous colors, don’t you think so?” Diana asked her, walking forward to lightly pat her cheek. “Okay?”

“...o-okay?” Akko went along with her pace, still not registering what was going on.

“Perfect!” Diana cheered, planting a chaste smooch on Akko’s other cheek before bidding her goodbye with a wave of her fingers. “It’s a date!”

“Date...” Akko repeated blankly, hand touching the place where warm lips had just blessed her. “Date... Date?!” Akko screeched, fingers running up to pull at her hair, trying to prove to her that she wasn’t deliriously dreaming.

[“Oh wow! You just scored a date! Real quick too! Um... congrats, my baby?”]- Her phone sounded from her pocket, and Akko flew inches off the floor in surprise.

“MAMA?!” Had she not hung up?! Wait... did that mean that... her mother had listened in on the entire conversation?! Wait! NO! That couldn’t... this couldn’t... Her heart suddenly picked up speed for a different reason, the organ pounding excruciatingly in her chest. Her mind ran a mile a minute in anxiety and panic.

She wanted to cry, to throw up. Her throat was so dry and painful.

Her mama had heard that. Sure she hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary... had she?

‘Calm down, Akko. Calm down. She might not have thought of it as anything weird. Yeah. Nothing weird. Of course. Except for my very female roommate setting us up on a date.’

Akko took erratic, deep breaths.

‘Oh but that doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s not like you’d normally think it was anything but a friend date unless you know for sure that your kid was... but my mom doesn’t- ’

Wait, but mothers knew these types of things, right? What if she had pieced together Akko’s reaction and figured it all out on her own?

Years of trying to hide it and... but maybe Akko was just that bad at hiding it. And her mom now knew.

Akko hadn’t even told her on her own that she was...

[“Akko-chan? Are you there?”]

No... she... how would she... what would her mom...

“Mama... I’m... I’m sor-”

[“My sweet baby, listen. Listen to Mama for a sec, okay?”]

Akko whimpered, nodding despite her mom not being able to see her.

It was too late. Her mom clearly knew now. Obviously. There was no way she didn’t. She was now going to confront Akko. She was going to tell her, even if it was with a sweet voice, that Akko was in the wrong, and that maybe she’d have to go into that strange therapy session Amanda complained to her about last week. And then she’d say she was disappointed, and that would hurt Akko more than any other thing in the world-

[“Baby, just please be sure to bring her home and introduce her to me during vacation, okay? She sounds like a lovely girl.”]

“...eh?”

[“I love you, my little Akko-chan.”]

Akko felt herself tear up, clutching her phone close in disbelief and incomprehension.

“Mama?” She called out in a hoarse voice, trying to grasp at straws of reality that she suddenly couldn’t fathom.

[“Hai~?”]

Akko sniffed, harshly wiping away her tears on her sweater arm.

“I love you, mama.” She sobbed, trying her best not to outright wail.

[“Mama loves you most.”]

Like a dam, her emotional barrier broke, spilling out in teary mumbles and sobs.

Was it supposed to be this easy? Or was she just so incredibly blessed?

She continued to wail into her phone mic for the next few minutes or so, listening to her mother tell her random stories about geese and laughing at how silly her cries sounded.

She really did adore her mother.

After about fifteen minutes of a breakdown however, a different tune broke through the air. Even her mother noticed it, immediately asking what it was.

“I... don’t know, Ma.” Akko responded, looking around the room to find the source of the grossly cutesy music that certainly didn’t belong to her. “A ringtone?”

And then she spotted it, on the shelf. A glammed-up phone strap, and a case with ears-

“Oh, hell on earth... It’s my roommate’s phone.” Akko accidentally said. She heard her mother belt out a hearty laugh.

[“Well, then I guess you should do what you have to.”] She said.

“Huh? What do you mean? Pick it up?” Akko asked, unsure.

[What?! No! Wait... actually, maybe you should.”] Mrs. Kagari muttered.

“Eeehh?”

[“Hurry! And put it on speaker in case it’s some weirdo!”]

Feeling the urgency in her mother’s tone, Akko felt compelled to pick up, holding the glittery device to her ear, and trying her best not to sound awkward or stupid for her roommate’s sake.

“Hello? Um... the owner of this phone currently-”

[“Oh, is this Akko?”]

“Y-yes! This is indeed, um, Akko... who is... conversing... with you.” She squeaked out. She could hear her mother facepalm on the other line.

[“Oh perfect! Hi! Um, this is Diana. Sorry about inconveniencing you. I was a little foolish and forgot my phone, it seems. Sorry for calling. I was just making sure that I hadn’t actually lost it along the way.”]

“Oh. Oh wow, that’s... that would have been terrible.” Akko responded stiffly. She could just hear her mother’s shame from across the ocean. It wasn’t like she had taught her how to flirt or anything!

[“Yes, indeed it would have.”] She heard Diana’s sweet giggling on the other end, and her heart soared. [“I’m so glad it’s with you, though- in safe hands.”]

Akko was so glad Diana couldn’t see her stupid grin. “Me-me too! I’m... I’m glad too! For you!”

[“You are terrible at this.”] Akko barely heard her mother groan.

“Um... s-so... do you want me to... bring your phone over to where you are or something?” Akko asked, clutching the phone securely in hand.

[“Oh! Oh, dear no. Please don’t feel bothered. I just wanted to check if it was okay. B-but... if it’s not an inconvenience to you...”]

Akko found her bashfulness quite cute. Like everything else about Diana.

[“If you don’t bring the lady her phone, I will disown you.”]

Her mom could be terrible sometimes.

“I’ll... I’ll bring you your phone, no worries. It’s no biggie... um... just tell me where you are and I’ll head on over.” Akko said, grabbing a notepad to take down the address.

[“Really? Oh thank you! Thank you so much! You’re a darling, Akko.” Diana responded cheerily, dictating the directions for Akko to take to get to her. [“Again, you are such a sweetheart.”]

“No, not at all.” Akko chuckled awkwardly. “Anyone would do this.” She shyly replied.

[“Oh, not at all, sweetie. You’d be surprised.”]

Akko blushed at the pet name, already muting out her mother’s teasing giggles.

[“Tell you what, once you get here, I’ll treat you to lunch. How about that? Oh, and while we’re at it, we could just do our little date! What say you, darling?”]

Akko was reaching the cap of her shyness threshold here. She didn’t know if she could take anymore.

“S-Sure.” She was still afraid to come off as rude to her brand new roommate though. Wanting to make a good impression, she figured she’d accept.

That’s all there was to it.

[“Brilliant! See you soon, love~ Bye.”]

At the dial tone that ended the call, Akko walked over to her bed, grabbed a pillow... and screamed.

[“Send me pics, love you!”]- She heard in the background before her mom hung up as well.

Akko screamed again.

#diakko #dianakko #lwa #little witch academia #diana cavendish #atsuko kagari #pastel diana #fanfic #au

[binniesthighs]

hi hi cuties and thigh enthusiasts!! just about a day ago my lil blog full of hornies and changbin thirst reached 1,500 and i am just jaflkjasd :’) since then haha 

ah ah this post is already so cheesy hehe but i wanted to say thank you so very much from the bottom of my heart for following me along with my journey with this blog! after having the hobby of writing for the greater part of my life, i’m so immensely thankful that i started this blog and hopefully took ya all on some of the crazy adventures i keep locked up in my head hehe 

having this blog has been such a wonderful experience, from learning about myself as a writer, exploring the many, many hornies that i’ve got, and most of all, meeting all of the freakin’ fantastic individuals in this community! ~thank you to each and every one of you for being the sweetest, loveliest, most hilarious and welcoming people i could ever wish to meet and have the honor of getting to know and write for!~ 

to celebrate, i wanted to make a lil list n’ love letter to my lovely pals for ya to check out! there is fkn CRAZY talent on this list and i highly recommend that ya check out everyone and their masterlists! 

to my moots~ GAH I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH my whole experience here on smutblr has been made absolutely amazing by you all! GOSH hehe i am full of so much love for you all your brains are seggsy as hell and i’m always rooting for you!! thank you so much for being my friends <3 

to my readers~ my loves, thank you, as a writer, to bee seen and heard fulfills every word i write and every lil idea i scribble down. wherever ya are in the world, thank you for taking the time to read my pieces and for sending me love. you are my reason!! 

to my anons~ thank you my darlings for all of your kindness, screams in my inbox, every song rec, hard thought and word of encouragement. my lil anon family i love you and appreciate you all so much! thank you for reaching out to me and makin’ a lil home on my account! it means the world to me! <3 

to my bunch of (ro)ses~ thank you so much for hyping me with each of my updates, for showing up in my notifs and being overall frickin’ angels! thank you so much for reading as always and i hope that ya like what’s to come! 

~hehe i wanted to write ya all lil messages too! while they just scratch the surface, please know that i love ya all to the moon and back!! 🥰~ 

🌹Writers🌹

@aliceu ~ alice, hehe here’s to all the times that we would ramble about fantasy aus and bounce ideas off eachother, thank you so much for being my go-to and my muse at times! your works are literally magical my love! 

@bearseungmin ~ hehe dawn i think that you might be one of my oldest moots on this list! ever since i started out here in this lil corner on the internet, you have been the most supportive, sweet individual there is to me and I can’t say thank you enough! i’m also like, highkey obsessed with everything you write hehehe 

@binniesbrat ~ oh my gosh té , hehe lol i will bring this up over and over again bc i’m just so ah ah it makes me melt but fun fact hehe back when i was babybinniesthighs, té reached out to me, and made me felt like i belonged--i literally lysm! your hornies are fantastic my dear, we are so lucky to have you here! 

@bruh-changbin ~ dear sky, while we’ve only talked a little in asks, i wanted to express how very dear you are to me! hehe when i update and you hype me up it literally makes my whole frickin’ day! you keep me going! not to mention that your writing is *chef’s kiss* teehee 

@bubblelixie ~ ah! kc! we’ve also been moots for a good while, i think back when i was babybinniesthighs too! hehe your overwhelming love and support of me makes my heart frickin’ swell and seeing you in my notifs and my asks with hornies makes me feel so dang fuzzy! you are quite literally one of the most adorable cuties on here! your writing also just *knocks me out* OOF 

@chaangbin ~ ours is quite the story dear hazel bean...meaning....i was like, the biggest, nerdiest fangirl of your work for quite some time and very very shy to tell you that it was me ahhhhh haha well here i am ooP your writing is so beautiful and human and immersive in so many ways! i’m crazy lucky to be moots and friends with ya! omg if i say more i will literally embarrass the heck out of myself hahahhaha

@decembermoonskz ~ beautiful izzy, you are such, and i mean such an inspiration to me. the way that you write is so gorgeous and i feel as if i’m in every scene. the way that you create worlds and place your readers in them is frickin’ insane! hehe i love obsessing with ya over chan any day and night! keep goin’! 

@dom--minnie ~ len, when i think of comfort, i really think of you. the way that i feel so safe with ya is like, insane. even when we first started chattin’ i just knew that we had an amazin’ thing coming hehe. from horny rambles to literally just talkin’ bout life, i am absurdly lucky to have met you here! you literally deserve everything wonderful in life and i love ya so much! 

@etherealeeknow ~ gah gen, my dear, the way that you checked up with me over my lil break just huhuhu thank you so much for being such a lovely and caring person towards me and everyone else whom you meet! you are so precious and i hope ya never forget that! 

@fight-me-m8 ~ darling and sweet rosetta, FRICK literally when i think of you oh my gosh i get the fuzzies, i’m so happy that we met and that i was able to witness the beginnings of your account! you have so so much love to give and i will fight you and give you more love back. bb i’m so happy to have you as a moot! 

@film-in-my-soul ~ alex! hehe while our friendship is still in the bb stages, i wanted to throw some love your way too!! i’m so hyped to write with you in the future and talk even more! i love how fast we clicked when we started talking about BLs AHA darlin’ you are so sweet and i can’t wait to get to know ya more! 

@formidxble ~ kim oh my god, you are a frickin’ force. when you entered this community a lil bit ago, and then made it your own, sharing with us your beautiful brain and lovely kindness, i swear the world must’ve taken a breath or something LOL you always astonish me with your works and i’m literally so excited for what the future holds for you! 

@hanflix ~ i think that i speak for so many of us here that rue, you are truly an inspiration. back when i was starting out and even now, reading your works feels like such a treat and i try to savor them all up! as a writer, i look up to you so much and as a wonderful, humble and hardworking person i look up to you as well!! thank you so much for welcoming me when i was babybinniesthighs ilsym! 

@hongnanglen-arina ~ arina my fuckin’ love oh my god if i could fly to where you are i frickin’ would!! i really think that the universe did a lil somethin’ somethin’ allowing us to meet. i feel so comfortable with you talkin’ about anything and everything especially hornies they are fkn’ unbridled. i can’t count how many times you’ve made me topple with laugher at like 3am. i’m so happy to have you in my life! 

@hyunsluvv ~ kathy istg you are one of the sweetest people i have had the pleasure of meeting on this lil corner of the internet! the care and love that you give to each of your anons, moots and in your work is truly astounding. i remember when you were just starting out i knew that big things were in store for you, and they still are! hehe

@imagineinnie ~ el, you are literally an angel if i have ever met one. it means the whole world to me when i see your dms, and the way that you check up on me and so many others goes to show the utter kindness and selflessness that you exhibit. cutie, thank you so much for always cheering me on and being such a light in this community!!

@instachans ~  kenny, although we’ve just met, i’m already so excited for our friendship to come! you are such an angel and have so much love to give, i’m so thankful that you slide into my asks hehe the future holds such amazing things for you!  

@itsapapisongo ~ javi, my dear, there’s just somethin’ about us that flows like frickin’ water. i feel like there’s the people that you meet in life that you kind of just click with, and i’m immensely grateful that i’ve met you. your love, support, hornies and lethal timing with gifs keeps me smiling. you are an astonishing writer and i feel so lucky to be here with you! 

@jisungsplatforms ~ sweet ina hehe i’m so glad that ya slid into my asks the day that you did! your vibes are so sweet and peaceful and i feel as if you and your account are such a safe place! i love, love sharing hornies with you over our boys! there is so much ahead for you my dear and i can’t wait!!! 

@mochinnie ~ omg i’ve totally said this before so many times, but i am so, so wowed by your work isa and they stick with me for like days after i read your pieces! i am so utterly inspired by you! i love your blog’s aesthetic and how you are always truthfully yourself i admire this so much! when i was starting out your works kept me goin’! thank you so much for this hehe 

@mzmezzler ~ ryan you literally deserve the whole world! not to mention that you are doing god’s work writing sub!skz! sweets, each of your pieces are so wonderful and imaginative and your lil memes and thoughts are so cute! please always keep doing you!! 

@ohmysparkle ~ sparkle: oh my gosh where can i start??? you are one fkn’ badass sparklin’ cat and my freakin’ role model. every day i am so astonished over how well spoken, wise, and reasonable you are while also being off the walls unapologetically yourself. my dear plz always shout with me about sub!hyunjin teehee 

@seungmoomin ~ nia big sexy brain!! holy shit the fkn talent in this bus? astronomical! nia i am absoluately WEAK over your writings and highkey you as a person over all! i swear, your blog is a gold mine and your personality is so wonderful i can’t put it into words LOL there’s no one quite like you and i can’t even count how many times you’ve got me dying laughing here ily!!

@yourdaddychan ~ LUNA my queen of capitalization and screaming in dms, you add a spice to my life that i didn’t know was missing. talking to you in every  format is fkn fantastic and lights up my day no matter how gloomy its been. i really feel like this is your world and i’m just livin’ in it LOL I LOVE YEW

🌹Readers🌹

@introjoonie ~ mai, this account would literally not be in existence if not for you, and it’s provided me with such happiness over these few months! thank you so much for encouraging me to let my hornies to the wind, and for listening to all my rambles about it since. thank you so much for being a lovely best friend, cheerleader and person. i’ll be seeing you soon!

@jeonglixie, @lechanters, @inlovewithasa, @pixxie-lixxie ~ my loves there is something so, so beautiful about each and every one of you, i cannot thank you enough for reading my works and for being so overwhelmingly supportive and kind with your feedback time and again. i’m so blessed to have such wonderful readers such as you! my time here on tumblr has been made by you and so many others of my unbelievably sweet readers!

@lovesfaith ~ ahh tumblr is being rude not letting me tag ya but sweets i just wanted to thank you so much for your kindness too! i adore talking with ya about astrology n’ just life and the way that you read me like a book is CRAZY haha thank you for being you Bambi! 

@meow-minho  ~ marine, every time that i see you on tumblr i am so thankful for your grace, and just lovely welcoming vibes. i am so thankful to have such a lovely person as you in my life and i can’t express how much me (and i’m sure so many other writers on here) appreciate your feedback. thank you so much!

@synnocence ~ wonderful cee, since first meeting you i feel like i’ve had the pleasure of getting to know such a wonderful human and equally amazin’ fellow bin stan! i can’t thank you enough for how much you’ve helped me grow my bin collection! dm-ing with you is always such a joy and you deserve the frickin’ world my friend!!

once again, thank you so much for poppin by and giving me a read, an ask, a dm or simply just sending bin pics my way hehe 

i hope to write much more in the future and to lash out with all the hornies that i’ve got! i can’t wait to share more with you all! thank you so much for being my motivation, as well as seggsy ass cuties who i am so lucky to share this space with!! 

have you thought about changbin’s thighs today yet? well...now you have 😉

#binniesthighs #uglycries #milestone hehe #Ro loves you so! much! #thank yo so much!!!

[janetbrown711]

2, 7, 8, and 23!

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Tbh I don't define what I do and don't write into "tropes" but I def would wanna write a "comes back alive, but wrong" story because good god are those always amazing.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oooh, a challenge I see.. hmmm...

I suppose if I had to pick I'd choose this scene from the first chapter/part of my og Wakko's Wish Rewrite Collection

“Yakko, run.” Angelina ordered. Yakko came back to life and booked it down the opposite way. His heart pounded in his chest and wind roared in his ears as he heard shouts and the clanking of armor behind him. He turned a corner and heard his mother cry out in pain, shouting things at the man, and then-

A loud gunshot rang through the hall, and his mother’s voice was silenced.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

GOD-- I have a lot to chose from here... I think the obvious answer is the staircase scene from my Angelina 1 Lives Au, but for a less obvious answer i'd have to go with this scene from my Encanto fic All the Medicine

The air was thick and heavy, feeling and smelling like illness– if such a thing were possible. The heat came to Luisa all at once as it escaped into the cool night air. A bowl reeked of something nasty that she dared not look into. The girl’s mother was laid on her back, eyes and mouth closed. Luisa quickly hobbled on over, climbing onto the bed carefully. 

Her mamá did not look well. 

Her skin was sweaty and shiny despite the late and rather cool hour. Her skin had a garish yellow tint not helped by the candle light. Her hair was wet and unruly, curls laying in messy nonsensical twists and frizzing up. Her mouth was red– very red, and her lips chapped. 

“Mamá? It’s me, Luisa,” She shook her arm lightly. “I-i came to check on you. Tía said you wanted to see me while we were at dinner, a-and so I’m here.” 

No response. 

“Mamá, I’m being so strong. I haven’t cried since the river. I’m not even scared, not right now,” she lied, her heart pounding in her chest. 

A soft croak. 

“M-mamá?” She jumped back. “Mamá, can you hear me?” 

“Isa..?” Julieta barely managed to say, her eyes hardly open and red. 

“No, Mamá– Luisa. I’m here for you,” she said, holding her hand. 

“Mi leona,” a small smile. 

“M-mamá, why are you so sick? Tía said you were better,” The girl begged to know. 

“Mi Lu, mi leona, tan fuerte,” Julieta’s body jerked, followed by a hushed moan of pain. 

“Mami, please ,” Luisa squeezed her hand, fighting precipitation in her eyes. 

“Lu… I see Papá,” Julieta said, staring off in the distance. 

“P-papá? Papá is downstairs– you aren’t making sense, mami,” Luisa sniffled, bringing her mother’s hand to her face. 

“Mi papá…” her mother whispered. 

“Mamá please !” The girl begged. “I-i’m here, just talk to me!” 

“ Duérmete mi niña, duérmete mi sol,” Julieta sang barely above a murmur, blood starting to trickle from her mouth. Luisa gasped in horror. 

“M-mami, I’m right here. I-i’m not going to bed,” She said, her lips trembling. She laid her head against her mother’s chest, determined to listen to her slow and steady heartbeat as her will betrayed her, and she began to cry. “A-and I’m not leaving until you’re better!” she quickly declared, wrapping her arms around her mother. 

Idk, i just really like this scene. I feel like the desperation is palpable, as well as signs of Luisa's habits that will eventually become major elements in the actually movie Encanto, which takes place 11 years after this fic.

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

God, probably literally all of my ducktales fanfics. They're very amateur stuff, very short very dialogue heavy. I've grown so much as a writer since beginning with that stuff, but I refuse to go back because of how the show really went downhill season 3 with crazy decision making. It'd be nice to redo the Gone Missing series and really fine tune that angst, but that's never gonna happen lmao

#janet blabs #all the medicine #encanto #angelina 1 lives au #wakko's wish

[huenjin]

2020 year end greetings.

disclaimer: this is going to be very long ( ˶ ❛ ꁞ ❛ ˶ ), but that's how much gratitude i have and so much more of love.

2020. ah, this year was a very emotional journey for me and how i wish i could sing jessi's gucci all throughout. however, that was not the case. tumblr helped me run away from all those irl miseries. these people made me feel at home.

this skz writing blog has been existing from the last few days of september and it came to life when i was losing motivation to write on my main (which i closed down because stray kids made me like writing back again) and it's stayed since then. you guys have stayed since then. grateful, a one hundred times and more.

so, this is rue, getting sappy and so much more thankful for everything i have and recieved with this blog. this is rue, asking you to accompany me for a little more and to listen to the stories i have to share. the is rue with heart full of nothing but love for each one of you.

to each one of my mutuals, for whom i pray to the stars to shower you with nothing but fortune —

@sinisterlyhan ♡ eiko, best thing i ever did was hit you up. how are you always so calm? or at least that's the tone i have in my head when i read your texts. it's so pleasant to talk to you. ily. and let me get started on your writing — you've heard this from me like every day but ma'am, you make magic. you lace stars together to form such a beautiful constellation of a writing and i fall in love a little more. thank you for inspiring me to always do better!

the hyunsung demon!au (whew!) — 01. 02. 03.

this hyunjin bad boy!au

@mochinnie ♡ isa, how i wish you handled yourself with a little more care. you're so fragile and delicate and i just want to protect you ?? so much ??? you're precious and one of the most beautiful people i have met. your characterisation is just perfect and god, i wish i could once write headcanons like you do. thank you for being my friend and for fangirling to me and for loving me. it means the world. psst, ily.

this seungmin fic

querencia | hh

@sparklemin ♡ nara!!!! big brain nara! god i love how your asks make my whole day and how you bring up different minho agendas in my head. you have my whole heart and i'm in love with you bye

girlfriend | bcn

hidden confession | bcn

@bearseungmin ♡ dawnie babie thank you for being such an enthusiast all the time while talking. you're so cheerful and happy and thank you for being this nice <33

beat it to the door | bcn

could listen to you read the dictionary | lfl

@chogiout ♡ yah, kira! sometimes i want to whack the back of your head like i whack my sister's, okay? it's the same kinda sibling love with you. fuck, not ever going to let you leave me. after all, my parents taught me to take responsibility of the stuff i rid innocence of. (lmao, sorry, bitch ily!!)

memoir | jyh

this youth of craziness | csn

@mikoto-ica-fics ♡ mi, bb! thank you for being so supportive. istg, if it weren't for you reblogging that one fic of mine, my fics would have never seen light to this day. it's easy to get lost in the tags hehe. and then i happen to text you and omg, aren't you the nicest ever? i love your story ideas, the way you write, the way you interact with people and thank you for talking to me. you make me want to be better.

entangled | lmh, hjs

power grab | hjs

@toffee-hwa ♡ ana! anaaaa~ you're so enthusiastic and supportive and fuck, i looooove ranting and fangirling to you! and the minute i know you're watching the same kdrama as i am, i just go like wheeeeeee— HAN SEOJUN!!! lmao, but thank you so much for talking to me, for listening and for caring! my romanian queen, you pretty human, you're the best!

yet, pt.i

yet, pt.ii

@chandisiacs ♡ yah, pav! must i drag you back to tumblr from twt? must i? i miss you. i really do and i can't wait to have your arse back here. thank you for being such a lively person to talk and hang out with, eee! and not at how you succeeded nano! inspirational! thank you x

thread of all your legendary aus

starboy | bcn

@unsaidhj ♡ you're so soft. and god i love you? and your aesthetics. it's a thing, ma'am. i existed to see your aesthetics lmao. and then i text you and you're so kind omg. i could never hate you so please, ma'am, stop telling me that in panic? huihui, ily and i hope you stay healthy. place yourself first, bb.

knife under my pillow | hhj

scammer, scammed | bcn

@sleepylixie ♡ yo, neighbor! you reminded me how small the world can actual get! love love talking to you about irl stuff because you can understand how messed up it is! and you're so kind, ah!!

in umbra

passion's abyss | lmh

@dreamyhan ♡ one of the few people i see on my dash and go like — hazeeeeeeeeel! you're just so nice, god. like if cotton candy was a person, it would be you, alright? and then there's your writing ability that skyrocket off the roofs because it is that good. thank you for being so supportive and nice to me! x

next time | bcn

in his arms | hjs

@itsapapisongo ♡ boy, my main man, javi!! your work was once my most favorite thing to listen to. loved how the mall worked and everything. and then there's how supportive you are like omg. if only i could explain the courage you give me. it's infinite. you make me feel infinite. also, #hardhours, right?

george of the jungle

swimming fool

@kabira ♡ typing the url down was even more romantic, manx. don't ever change this. love how strong and bold you are. love your opinions and love your writings even more. you're one of those few people who write like they mean every word from their heartstrings. thank you for providing us with stories to tell for eons. x (psst, ily so much!)

backstreet driving | hhj (that's the first skz fic i read because it was from you and not because it was skz and aren't i glad?)

sic semper tyrannis | lty

@dalknow ♡ the only other person on tumblr that i text religiously on discord. i love talking to you, bb. love getting personal with you. love how i can share absolutely anything. thank you for trusting me. thank you for listening to me. thank you for loving me. can't wait for you to put your stories back up on this acc. you're undefeatable and i know you'll have that known.

to each one of my anons, for whom i pray that you stay safe and healthy and most importantly, happy —

🧸 :: put you on the anon list because in my head you are that anon — my very first one and the one that lit up my whole world. it's kind of a very proud moment when someone wants to talk to you. you made me feel that. you made feel loved. and to see how well your blog is doing now, god, i feel like a proud mother.

🐠 :: my greek princess. the fact that i learnt more about breads from you than from my school makes me laugh hehe. you really did light up my world with every ask you sent me and had me unknowingly hope that you are happy in every minute. and now that i know who you are, i'm even more content because you're a mutual too now!

🍧 :: god, you have a special place in my heart, ice cream anon! maybe because you liked me more than my fic and followed me here even though you were an anon from my bts blog. fuck, if that didn't make my heart flutter, nothing ever will! (hush, your relationship is something i am still rooting for!!)

🦊 |🌹| 🥀 | 🛸 :: the way you guys keep checks if i'm staying hydrated and healthy. i am. and even when i wasn't, your asks made me go drink a cup of water ha! thank you for loving me x

tiktok anon :: ♡♡♡♡♡♡ yes idk what else to say to you but that i would give you a piece of my heart. your tiktok asks make my whole day. it's something i look forward too! thank you for always making my day!

and to my other anons, tagged or untagged :: thank you for sending me an ask. every single one, either telling me to stay happy or hydrated, or that my fic was great or that you're feeling extra horny that day (we've all been there!) i appreciate it and thank you for making me smile! x

to all the mutuals that i admire, look upto and wish we talked waaaay more, let's do it soon please! and to some mutuals that i just miss talking to! —

@nightshade-minho (ily! x nicest bean ever!!) :: @satanssmuts :: @lovebini :: @seraplantery :: @xiaojunssmile :: @chan-skz :: @chanluster :: @decembermoonskz :: @bangtantaegi (queen!!) :: @yunhozone (i miss you!!) :: @inkigayeo :: @vocalyunho

i hope each one of you stay happy, content and loved. my memory is pea sized and so i do pray that i haven't forgotten any! thank you for being my mutuals, for sharing laughter and talks with me for these months i've been here! i’m sorry if i missed anyone, but i seriously do appreciate everyone that i’ve ever talked to on here though! i hope to see you all next year and let's be happy together !!

with much love, x rue!

#thank you 2020 #boost! #rue gets sappy yes!! #.txt

[flamesofmemory]

Rules

Rules are extremely straightforward, don't be a goober and don't be a dick, basically. Putting them on a post rather than a page so they're more accessible from mobile. 1. The easiest way to approach me for roleplay is to jump on sentence starters when I post them; usually I do them to try to generate activity. If you want to turn up in my inbox ooc you're welcome to do that, too, but jumping on memes is always the easiest route. Ooc can come after we've broken the ice. 2. I'm nsfw friendly, but not interested in smut. Graphic stuff is fine, though I prefer to plot out heavier stuff ahead of time so we're all on the same page. 3. No godmoding, please. If you need to manhandle or move my character around in your reply, check with me so we can be on the same page. I will extend you the same courtesy. 4. I don't use icons or fancy formatting; you are welcome to use them to your heart's content but if you do, please make sure your replies don't create eyestrain. It might LOOK pretty, but if I can't read it that defeats the purpose. On my end, I have character banners and icons for the beginning of an interaction, but don't expect anything else otherwise, and I won't use them when I'm on mobile. 5. While I am crossover friendly, I prefer crossovers to be with sources that I'm familiar with. I'm also doubles, oc, and au friendly. Aus I would prefer to discuss ahead of time, even if it's an au that I'm in the process of a building. Once an au becomes a verse, feel free to approach that version of the character, unless the verse page says otherwise.

5, addendum: I do not interact with RWBY characters. Yes, this is important enough to make it a rule. 6. Please do not try to force a ship with my characters. I love shipping with a partner, it's fun, but it needs to happen naturally and organically. You can approach me with the idea, but it's going to be a lot easier to talk me round if the characters already have chemistry and we the muns have a history together as well.

6, addendum: Yes, this even goes for Isa rpers. I definitely want to get Axel an Isa, but it's not going to be a matter of just showing up and shipping. We need to actually work together if it's going to be a ship worth playing with. 7. My anon hate policy is and always has been I will indulge you until you cease to entertain me, at which point you get blocked. 8. If I wrongblog my response, let me know so I can fix it before you reply.

9. Unless a muse is listed on the main muse list, they aren't available for interaction. If I have a thread going with @hayleysmuses or @askrossiel using a character not on the list, I'm either test-driving the muse for later or it's a one-time thing. Check the muse list for available muses.

#doing them in a link on the pinned so they can be accessible on mobile

[suckmyballshoney]

Could you maybe recommend some good fics?

Okay mom, this is the list of the best things I’ve read ! And because I am incapable of choosing only a few, there is like 100 fics in there, it’s crazy. I’m a fucking mess, it’s a fucking mess, there are all amazing fics and I have no self-control so take it all 😂 (please appreciate it, I spent so loooong on it ! 😂)

For anyone reading this, here’s an important note I need to make before we start : this only comes from my opinion, with ships I like and my own preferences in themes. If one of your fics or a fic you liked is in there, well good for you because I loved it ! And if it’s not, it doesn’t mean that it’s bad or anything like that, just that I haven’t read it or that I missed it yesterday when me and my tired eyes went through the historic of the THOUSANDS of fics I’ve ever read in the fandom, it’s a fucking lot and I surely missed some.

Also, some fics are locked so if you don’t have an account, you won’t be able to see them.

I tried to organize it, I really tried, and for the sake of safety I’ll note the NSFW ones, if you go read, take care of yourself and read at your own caution, because I can read pretty much about anything doesn’t mean anyone can and have too so check the tags every time ! Take care of yourself and enjoy the ones you read ! 💙

Emotional fics

Like ribbons by heroics (Dan/Max, NSFW)

I will always be there for you, brother by someone_worth_racing_for (Nico/Carlos, NSFW)

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (Charles/Max)

Bitter/Sweet by Tianvette (Seb/Mark)

Night Bus by EverythingIsAJokeIncludingMe (Lando/Carlos)

Black Over Red (the death of a King) by onehonor

not magnificent by secondlifetime

toffee by simplyverstappen (Dan/Max, NSFW)

terrible sting, terrible storm by singlemalter (Lando/Carlos)

I got everything at my fingertips (How can I resist when it feels like this?) by komkommertijd (Dan/Max)

Holding together what can not be held by Quagswagging (NSFW)

The spleen of monte carlo (and how to deal with it) by altissimozucca (Charles/Max)

Interlude/infatuation by toro (sapoeysap) (Alex/George)

I’ve not hate (that’s how I know I lied to you) by GufettoGrigio (Lewis/Nico)

Phantom limb by Charona (Dan/Max, NSFW)

(Dis)closure by Charona (Nico/Kevin, NSFW)

Under Greece’s stars by Lily_Anna (Lewis/Nico)

Hate is a terrible feeling by scarletred

Fluff and/or funny fics

be still my foolish heart by jorgelorenzo (Carlos/Lando, NSFW)

That's What Friends Are For by KyoukayKanata (Carlos/Lando)

Some Boys Just Wanna Watch The World Burn by onehonor (Lando/Charles)

you ('cause you feel like home) by maxverstappens

amor (la leche style) by toro (sapoeysap) (Carlos/Lando)

Nico’s Greatest Achievement by F1_rabbit (Lando/Max)

Mystery Man by simplyverstappen (Lando/Carlos, Dan/Max)

There’s love in this life, there’s no obstacle by Pericardiaca (George/Alex)

Drowned in oxygen by scarletred (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

We’ll Always Be Okay by Thatsrightmyhype (Max/Lando, NSFW)

Tying Cherry Stems in Knots by WhiteWolfCraft (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

And they were quarantined by scarletred (Charles/Max)

50 Sentences of Carlos and Lando by palalabru (Lando/Carlos)

The Day Kevin Magnussen Attempted Murder (and Fernando learned not everyone likes to be babied) by Quagswagging

You Say We're Just Friends (But Friends Don't Know the Way You Taste) by WhiteWolfCraft (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

it's not that hard to open eyes that close when they couldn't have by circuitricardoporno (Lando/Carlos)

An analysis of inappropriate behaviour between teammates, featuring Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz Junior by WhiteWolfCraft (Lando/Carlos)

Darling, we’re a paradox (but I think we’ll manage) by altissimozucca (Pierre/Daniil)

Far away truths by raikkonen (armario) (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

Thank you, Anytime by sensibleshoes28 (Charles/Max)

Game Stops and Spanish Restaurants by Anna_banana (Lando/Carlos)

Catch you when you fall by maxverstappens (Dan/Max)

soulmates (or: max has a love-hate relationship with coldplay) by altissimozucca (Charles/Max)

your love I’m lost in by maxverstappens (Lando/Max, NSFW)

Last night you were in my room (and now my bedsheets smell like you) by LostInSpace and MerlinSpecter (Dan/Max)

Abu Dhabi 2035 by Charona (Dan/Max)

A Drink Too Many, Or Maybe Less by ColdWhiteLight (Kimi/Seb, NSFW)

Oh, Sandman, bring us a dream by bonotje (Lando/Max)

So happy Christmas (back on the bad list) by toro (sapoeysap) (Alex/George)

You’ll pull at my neck and we’ll break what can’t be broken by grwyish (Charles/Max)

Set alight my skin (and I’ll melt like ice) by Directionless_Foray (Lando/Carlos)

irish spring 5-in-1 by Anonymous (Pierre/Daniil)

Others

Like Magic by Rizz07 (de-ageing fic)

Even though you know we fly (Don't call me angel) by Alexa_Plays (George/Alex)

Have You Come Up A Name For Your Chassis? By Asahi_9L1314

Rule 63 by WhiteWolfCrack (George/Alex, NSFW, genderswap)

I took the stars from our eyes and then I made a map by Directionless_Foray (Lewis/Seb)

kiss me under the light of a thousand stars by altissimozucca

if you wanna come back, it’s alright by raikkonen (armario) (Pierre/Daniil, NSFW)

F1 Rarepair Drabbles by raikkonen (armario) (NSFW)

Fringe contender by redpaint (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

www.tumblr.com by legolasass

Lady, I need my dog back now…and my Nico too by Anonymous (Lewis/Nico)

A moment you need me to stay by circuitricardoporno (Lando/Carlos/Isa, NSFW)

McLaren Unboxed | The Papaya Boys | #2020 by legolasass (Carlos/Lando)

The Performer by theinanitor (Jenson/Seb)

spotlight on me and i'm ready to break  by Pericardiaca (NSFW)

The banterzone by groooovybaby

Lance stroll’s exclusive hallowe’en party by raikkonen (armario)

So, let’s dance (when we’re not supposed to be) by Directionless_Foray (Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

Long fics/series

Three Wishes For Verstappen by PoemAboutCitylights (Dan/Max)

Solar Flare by Tianvette (Jenson/Seb, NSFW)

Baby I'll Rule (Let Me Live That Fantasy) by komkommertijd (Dan/Max)

knife's edge by restless5oul (Charles/Max, NSFW)

In High School by Zig_Zag_F1 (Charles/Max, George/Alex, Carlos/Lando, NSFW)

Everyone’s shagging because I said so by Wellthisdidntgotoplan (serie, NSFW)

The Experiences of Blossoms by magic_one (serie)

New love old love by circuitricardoporno (serie, Alex/George/Lando, Lando/Carlos, NSFW)

Every colour illuminates by circuitricardoporno (serie, Lando/George, NSFW)

Bad baby by Directionless_Foray (serie, Charles/Seb, NSFW)

Max and Pierre by kakkakerssi (Pierre/Max, NSFW)

The five last fics of sirius (Alex/George/Lando, NSFW)

All Behind A Mask by JustAnotherF1Fangirl (Lando/Carlos)

Youtube AU by simplyverstappen (serie, NSFW)

Sons of the gods by EverythingIsAJokeIncludingMe

Falling and finding by Directionless_Foray (serie, Charles/Seb, NSFW)

Can’t go on without you by FadingDragon (Dan/Max)

Magic verse by simplyverstappen (serie, Dan/Max)

The higher we soar the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly by RosaNautica (Romain/Kevin, NSFW)

Ten Important Events In My Life by komkommertijd (serie)

Crowns by simplyverstappen (serie, NSFW)

Sebastian and Kimi raising the chaotic trio (aka a Highschool AU) by greeny1710 (serie, NSFW)

The Grid’s Apocrypha by singlemalter (serie, NSFW)

Quiet healing by Directionless_Foray (serie, Charles/Seb, NSFW)

Max and Lando by kakkakerssi (serie, NSFW)

Our families by greeny1710 (serie, NSFW)

French fics (of course I had to include that category)

Passer le temps by Jae_Universe

Dead Hearts by Laeana (serie)

10 façons de mourir by Laeana (serie)

Love is a seduction game by Laeana (serie)

Pffffiouuuuuu that is DONE ! So long 😂 MP/mom I hope you have enough to read for the next WEEKS !

All the writers mentioned above that have a tumblr are here and they deserve a fucking lot of recognition : @someone-worth-racing-for @onehonoramongstthieves @verstappened @nicorosberg @komkommertijd @bwoahtastic @havertzs @alphatoro @gufettogrigio @kyoukai-kanata @landonenorris @f1rabbit @shellhaeds @scharletred @palalabu @landolait @bottasvaltteri @sleepyverstappens @yxllowish @storm-in-my-teacup @rizz07 @redpaint @nxrrislandx @laeana @lilyanna13 and all the others that I didn’t find their tumblr account 😂

#THIS IS SO LONG AND I SPENT SO MANY HOURS ON IT OMFG #i ALMOST put one of my fics but i was like nah not yet i need to write a better thing #ANYWAY ALL THESE FICS ARE FREAKING AMAZING #some are my go-to when i’m bored #one of them i spent two hours looking for it and i yelled when i found it #i lived an adventure for that post really #also napsi you’ll never get bored with all of this #HAVE FUN READING ALL THAT EVERYONE #fic rec

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Policies

Summary: By far, Ven’s got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 2 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player]

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1,969

If you liked this story, please reblog!

- - -

“Hey Skuld...”

“I'm not helping you cheat on your homework.”

Ventus let out a small pout. “I wasn't asking for you to help cheat. I was wondering if you knew the contextual difference between irony and coincidences.”

Skuld paused from counting the balloons in stock before heading over to Ven. She looked over his shoulder to scan his schoolwork. She turned to him with a rather teasing grin.

“That's cheating.” she informed him. Ven pouted again, earning a less than helpful laugh as Skuld returned to inventory checking. So much for that little hint. The teen returned to his work with a grumble.

Some time later, the bell above the front door twinkled as someone entered the store. Ven took a small glance up to see the top of a pink head of hair. Knowing that it was Ephemer's wife, Ven looked back down at his homework. Skuld could help her. She always did when Anora came in, assuming Anora wasn't there to drop something off for Ephemer.

“He's getting so big.” Skuld cooed in a voice that brought Ven's attention again. In Anora's arms was her one year old son, Luca. He looked to be fast asleep in his mother's arms.

“Heavy too.” Anora said, her earthy voice not much above a whisper. From what Ven understood, she was always that naturally quiet.

“You can set him on the counter.” his boss offered, gesturing to the front counter. “You don't have to keep carrying him.”

Anora gave a grateful smile as she gently sat her child on the counter edge. She made sure that he was still laying against her, though. Not once did he stir- Ven was honestly a bit impressed.

“Urg, from the back he looks just like Ephemer.” Skuld then noted with an exaggerated groan. “Here's to hoping he doesn't act like him later on. I feel sorry for both of you already.”

“His hair is going to get lighter as he gets older.” Anora fondly noted as she stroked her son's hair. “Like mine.”

“Speaking of, have you done anything to it? Your hair seems a bit more reddish today.”

Anora gave Skuld a funny look for a moment before giving a shake of her head.

“Huh,” Skuld marveled, “Maybe it's just the lighting in here. I've been trying to convince the others to install fluorescents in the main shop, but the amber light keeps the flowers from looking too sick. You know? It also tends to make things feel sleepier too, isn't that right Ven?”

“Can't hear you, doing homework.”

“Smart kid.” Skuld nodded before breaking into a small laugh. Anora also afforded a small smile before Skuld went to business. “Now, what can I do for you today?”

Anora looked up at Skuld and started to blush for some reason.

“It's my cousin's fourth anniversary.”

“Already? Time really does fly by. It was the first wedding you and Ephemer went to as a couple.”

To this, Anora gave a small jolt of surprise. “He's talked about it?”

“Honey,” Skuld told her, leaning across the counter a bit, “He'd talk about the first time you two shared a bed if it wasn't on the TMI policy.”

A policy that wouldn't exist if Ephemer would just stop talking about Anora, Ven casually thought to himself. But he didn't dare voice it out loud- even though he was sure the ladies would agree with him.

“Let's see...” Skuld mused as she got out an order form. “Fourth anniversary, huh? Traditionally, it's a flowers and fruit, which should make this a pretty easy job. Hm… I think the colors are blue and green- also very easy. Would you like bluebells or blue roses?”

“Bluebells.”

“Thought so. Any gifts you'd like to add?”

Anora nodded, and was about to give specifications, before the bell twinkled again. Skuld and Ventus looked up at the same time to see Lea making his way in. The man was happily singing a tune as he took his attention to the first display arrangement by the door. Not a moment after, the two coworkers were giving each other the exact same look.

“Ven, can you help out Lea?” Skuld said before the teen could even breathe. “Keep him quiet so he doesn't wake Luca up.”

Anora gave Skuld an alarmed look that read along the lines of 'you don't have to do that,' but Ven's manager had made up her mind. It wasn't even a suggestion either. It was an order. Everything Skuld said was an order in some way- at least during work hours. And so, knowing he was going to get a stink eye either way, Ven put his school books away and made his way over to Lea.

The tall, lanky man was humming away to himself as he bent down to look at flower pots. He looked over a few before shaking his head, getting up to look at the next pre-arranged options. In his hands was a black and red frisbee, boasting a design featuring a maliciously grinning ball of flame. Seeing it immediately made Ven stand a bit straighter. He had seen first hand the damage (accidental or not) that one toy had caused in the past. Seeing it now did not inspire the best of confidences.

“You're not supposed to have that in here.”

Lea stopped mid hum. He stood up before turning to Ven.

“Oh come on, we all know it's my fidget spinner. You couldn't separate us if you tried.” Lea grinned. “Besides, as long as it doesn't fly in Miss Skuld-uggery's direction or breaks somethin', she doesn't care one lick. She likes me you know.”

“Uh huh.” Ven snorted. But in remembering that Lea was a customer at the moment, he quickly shook his head to get back to business. Putting on a more professional tone of voice, he then said, “What can I help you with today? Anything in particular that you are looking at?”

Lea looked at him, smirked, and kept on spinning his frisbee.

“It's a long shot,” the man said, “But I was hoping I could get something for Isa to less grump-ify him. He's a busy little bee with no concept of how to have fun. Want something that he could put on his desk to cheer him up for a hot second.” Lea paused for a moment before putting on a wide grin. “What's the largest size teddy bear you got around here?”

“He's not going to like a huge teddy bear.” Ven noted. “You need something more subtle. Like a small bunch of flowers, placed in a coffee cup that he can use later.”

“You see,” the older guy mused, “This is why you work at a flower shop. You know your stuff.”

Confused for a moment, then bashful, Ven placed a hand behind his neck and let out a light chuckle. “Only because I know you guys.”

Lea let out a less than faltering snort. “True enough.” he nodded. A smile started to appear on Lea's face as he then went on to ask, “Speaking of knowing people, how's Lady Sabi?”

For a moment, Ven forgot how to breathe.

“What do you mean?” the teen then asked, trying to shrug it off. He tried even harder to keep them on track by guiding Lea around to some arrangements that he could just take and go.

“Heard she got laid off.” came the rather callous reply, the frisbee spinning rather precisely on his finger. “She come around more often? Any interesting relationship milestones yet?”

Something in Ventus flickered with a sense of annoyance. It wasn't any of Lea's business.

“You jealous that you and Isa are having a rough patch?” he found himself saying before he had the capacity to watch what he was saying. “That's why you're here, isn't it? You two had another argument, so now you're trying to buy his love back before he moves out.”

Suffice to say, Lea's frisbee flew off his finger as the man looked back at the teen in pure shock. Any comments after were put on hold when a voice let out a small squeak of surprise. Not long after that, the two paled at seeing Skuld come their way. In her hands was Lea's frisbee, but it was her face they stared at. Her eyes gleaming with hatred and her brow furrowed so deep that it was obvious she was more than just a little mad.

It wasn't until that she was in arm's distance that Lea tried to stutter out an apology. She never gave him the time. Holding the frisbee with both hands, Skuld whacked Lea across the face. Ven flinched. Lea staggered back, but had a remarkable recovery time.

“Well that wasn't very professional.” he mumbled as he rubbed his cheek.

“You know you're not allowed to have this in here!” Skuld hissed, shoving the frisbee at him. For a moment, Ventus wondered why she wasn't screaming. But then he remembered -and they could still see- Anora at the front counter.

Lea must have seen Anora too because his face immediately paled. Ven took a preemptive step back to let Skuld handle the dirty work- almost surprised in himself for feeling quite smug about Lea's predicament. It's not like he wasn't warned about this beforehand.

“At least no one was...” Lea weakly tried to refute, but he knew his words were useless. Someone had gotten hurt- Skuld wouldn't have been so furious otherwise.

“You're lucky that it didn't hit Luca.” Skuld spat at him.

“Luca?” Lea repeated. If his face wasn't already pale, it would have been sheet white now. He didn't know that much about Ephemer and his family, but he knew enough that they had a kid. A small flicker of fear shot through him in wondering if he hit the kid instead. That would absolutely explain Skuld's fury.

“You have a minute to buy something or get out, Lea.” she then spat as she pointed a finger at his chest. “Starting now.”

“Y-yes ma'am.” Lea quickly agreed. He even gave a salute to show absolute submission. It amused Skuld enough that she decided he had suffered enough, and went back to finish up Anora's order. Once more, Ven was impressed with how Skuld handled things. But that meant he was back to servicing Lea.

“There's a nice ceramic mug over here that Isa will like.” the teen offered. “Pre-arranged and everything.”

“Following you.” Lea agreed, even moving a few inches closer to Ven. “Just… uh, keep it snappy, would you? I don't know whose fury is worse- Skuld's or Isa's.”

Ven couldn't hold back his smug smile as he helped Lea. It took less than 45 seconds to head back over to the front counter. Lea refused to look at either of the ladies as Ven rung his order up.

“I… didn't hit the kid, did I?” Lea carefully asked, turning his head toward Anora a bit but still refusing to look her in the eye. Anora gave him a curious tilt of her head before giving it a small shake. Just as Lea was about to let out a sigh of relief, Skuld cut in.

“You didn't hit the kid, but you did hurt his mother.”

Lea flinched. “Sorry.” he genuinely apologized. After he reclaimed his mug arrangement for Isa, he turned to give Anora a small peck on her temple.

“I'm just lucky that Ephemer wasn't here, huh?” he mused before starting to take his leave. “He wouldn't have held back either.”

“Oh, I'll make sure he knows.” Skuld teased. Lea flinched one last time before quickly leaving the flower shop. In his wake, he left behind two snickering employees of Dandelion's Floristy and Gardening, and one flustered mother with her still sleeping -but thankfully unharmed- child.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction #ventus #kh ventus #skuld #kh skuld #lea #kh lea #axel #kh axel #kingdom hearts oc #kh oc #kh fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #kh fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic #flower shop au #oneshot #implied akusai #next gen kid