#baby hunter me boy ❤️

[formulafics]

★ BABY, JUST SAY YES | LS2

Scenario: its no secret that logan sargent isn’t single, but one thing that no one can quite figure out - not even his co workers - is who the mystery girl is. logan doesn’t reveal who until she’s no longer his girlfriend, but his wife. (requested)

Pairing: logan sargeant x fem!popstar!reader

A/N: it’s taken me 4 days of writers block to get this one figured out, but she is finally here! i hope everyone enjoys! <3

logansargeant

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logansargeant the flight is always worth it to be with her

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sargeantformula another day, another soft launch from logan 😔 when does the pain end?

logansgirl HE LOOKS SO GOOD

formulogan so either logan plays guitar or his gf plays guitar 🧐

⤷ norizzlando i thought that i could figure out something by looking at the music sheets but it’s beatles songs, and i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney

⤷ alexalbonooo23 STOP IT FHIS COMMENT IS KILLING ME 😭 “i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney”

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 356,789 others

logansargeant summer dump

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alex_albon getting a little to close to using @/georgerussels tactics

rizzciardo logan pls just tell us who it is 😔 do it for your fans

⤷ norrisnation DO IT FOR AMERICA

formulaobssesed why is logan kinda…

⤷ sargeantformula YOURE JUST LEARNING THIS? HES BEEN FINE

sargeantnation THE FIRST PICTURE HELLO YOU LOOK SO GOOD

ls2sargeant okay, but WHO is in the second picture? 😭

logansargeant

in love

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 124,678 others

logansargeant

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formulanorris the location being “in love” is sickening

⤷ piastrizz no literally i want want what him and his gf have

williamillion ITS NOT FUNNY ANYMORE LOGAN

godblessls2 boy if you don’t just drop her @ rn

loscargirlie logan you wanna drop her @ sooooo bad rn

logansargeant and ynlnsargeant

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 467,892 others

logansargeant so glad my baby said yes. happy one year, my beautiful girl.

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ynsworld LOGAN IN RHE MIDDLE OF YNA FUCK I G CONCERT???

oscarpiastri happy anniversary ❤️

⤷ rizzciardo loscar crumbs 🥹 i love them

alex_albon happy anniversary! love you guys.

formulasargeant LOGAN WHAT????

piastrizz LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT I SWEAR TO GOD

ynfannacc the caption. not okay, young man.

⤷ godblessls2 LMAOO THIS COMMENT IS SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

rizzciardo the mesh of logan and yn fans in the comments is so funny to me 😭

loscargirlie I KNOW I BEGGED YOU MULTIPLE TIMES TO DROP THE @ BUT COME ON LOGAN

ynlnsargeant

liked by logansargeant, lewishamilton, alex_albon, landonorris, and 789,367 others

ynlnsargeant what a night. thank you to everyone who came out tonight, i am so grateful for your support. on a side note, happy anniversary to my love, @/logansargeant. one year down, forever to go. 🫶🏻

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logansargeant i love you so much baby.

⤷ ynlnsargeant i love you more. thanks for coming out tonight ❤️

ynsguitar the end of an era - she changed her username

⤷ ynloverforlife ITS SO CUTE 😭 she and logan are actually so cute together i can’t even be sad

ynsworld simultaneously extremely happy for you and feeling like my heart has been ripped out. ilysm </3

ynsnumberone i cannot believe i witnessed this kiss in real time

⤷ formulasargeant i have no idea how you survived because me personally? that would be the end

danielricciardo NO WAY. happy anniversary!

⤷ rizzciardo DANIEL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE LMAO

⤷ sargeantformula apparently only oscar, lando, and alex knew about their relationship. oscar was the only one who went to the wedding 💔 (not to mention daniel has always liked yn’s music)

all feedback is appreciated! thank you for reading <3 - daelynn

general taglist | @renarots (special shoutout to her for always fueling the brainrot for these fics) @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @harrysdimple05 @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie

#formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #formula one social media au #formula one smau #formula one x you #formula one fluff #formula one x reader #formula one fic #formula one racing #formula one x y/n #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant fanfiction #logan sargeant fluff

[gr1mstar]

heyy can i request a LnD and how the boys will react if them and the reader are in a heated argument, and they accidentally said something extremely hurtful to the reader, which made the reader cry? thank youu

OH, SHIT…

notes: of course. sorry for the long wait, love. ❤️ at first i tried to make is like a story, but i changed my mind and so because you did specify what exactly you want (headcanons, oneshots, etc) i decided to make it this way.

contains: love and deepspace boys x reader, crying, mean words, reaction, angst, strong language.

ZAYNE

at first he didn’t realise what he had done, but realisation hit him when he saw your tears.

“sweetheart, you know i didn’t mean tha-“

he didn’t really get to continue his conversation because of a slap he received from you. he was shocked, eyes wide and mouth open.

“just shit the fuck up, zayne. i do not need your ‘medical advice’ again” you said, making your way outside his office.

and so you refused to answer his calls, texts, facetimes all day, staying in your apartment crying.

after his shift, he regretted all his actions and how he made you cry. the stress and anxiety got the best of him, and so he decided to surprise you with some flowers and chocolate, making his way home ready for another slap and to give some explanation.

“i really, really hate you” you too him, looking at the chocolate he got for you, too angry to eat them.

“i know. i’m sorry. it’s not going to happen again, i promise.”

RAFAYEL

when the first tears appeared on your face, he knew he was fucked. he didn’t really mean what he said, the deadline of his painting stressing him out.

he said your name, putting the paintbrush down and looking at you, with fear in your eyes. ‘i fucked up. they are angry’ he thought, trying to make the distance between you two a little bit shorter.

“just… i’m going to leave. if i’m so annoying to listen, then i’m shutting up and leaving. have a great day, rafayel.”

and so he was left alone, with an unfinished painting and tears in his eyes, thinking that the fucked up his relationship with you.

later in the day, when he made a plan to win you over he called you, asking where you are and what are you doing. he surprised you with something, apologising and saying he was an idiot for snapping at you.

“i love you, darling. you know i need you like a fish needs water.”

XAVIER

two stubborn people. he was wrong, he didn’t really want to say it out loud. seeing you tears after, he realised he fucked up and all his thoughts vanished in a moment.

“baby. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-“

“no. xavier… just. go back.” you told him, leaving him behind in the forest, looking for wanderers.

“no” he shouted back, running after and you taking your hand. “i didn’t mean that.”

“you did. you just said it. that i’m not good enough? that i’m not a good hunter? i should quit?”

“no. fuck.” he said, taking your face in his hand. “i’m just worried.”

“you don’t have trust in me. i hate it, xavier.” was your response, not wanting to look at his eyes.

and so you had a serious conversation in the woods, xavier apologizing and explaining why he is worried. in a way, you understood him, but you didn't want to think that you were a weak hunter.

"i love you. i'm just worried about you."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space #love and deepspace xavier #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #xavier #zayne #zayne x reader #jjk #headcanons #reaction #lnd rafayel #lnd zayne #lnd xavier #fight

[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

[gingernut1314]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy the clown annoys you. More than annoys you. It's been that way ever since you were both little and as a bounty hunter, it made all the sense in the world to dislike him. When you are captured by the Marines for crimes you had been trying to outrun for years, you find him locked up right alongside you and just as annoying as ever. But when the chance for escape presents itself, it comes with strings attached. Strings that test the very natural order between the hunter and the hunted--an order Buggy seems to have no regard for.

Topics: angst, smut (p in v), canon typical violence, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 5.3K

Commissioned by: @katelynwithpaint (Thank you for commissioning me, it was so much fun to write! ❤️ ❤️)

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You were thrown into the dank brig of a marine vessel, the force of the action enough to send you falling to the ground, your bound hands barking in pain as you tried to keep yourself upright. 

The two marines who had been commanded to bring you down here spat filthy insults your way. Insults you should have brushed off and forgotten about, but you have never been good at taking such things. Had always let them get under your skin--get you angry and upset. 

Snapping your head around, teeth bared in a nasty snarl, you watched the door slam shut behind you.

“You fucking spoon-fed idiots!” You hissed up at the two marines who had been ready to leave before you had spoken. “You know nothing of--” The taller one slammed his fist against the bars of your prison, causing a loud bang to ring through the metal walls. 

You hardly flinched. Hardly bat an eye. You’d dealt with some of the most terrifying big bads the East Blue had to offer. Big bads who thrived off chaos and ate babies for breakfast. These two goody-two-shoes marines would never in their wildest dreams live up to those creatures. Never utterly terrify you. 

“We know everything about you. We know of your failed run as a bounty hunter. We know you killed a respected and loved member of our community--you are a criminal. Nothing but a no-good pirate.” He shot down at you in an air of superiority. Like you were nothing but the dirt under his shoes. 

A criminal. A no-good pirate. Those few words were worse than any insult one could possibly conjure and spit at you. Worse than physically getting slapped in the face. 

You were by no means a good person, but a criminal--you were far from being a criminal. Not in the same sense as those you’d hunted down. Those who had done true evil in this world. Who had hurt innocent people--children. 

Criminals like their respected and loved community members. A, now-dead, marine commodore. A commodore who had gone too far in life without getting punished for his crimes. 

Crimes you punished him for. 

A crackling laugh filled the air before you could spit any sort of slights their way. A laugh that started off low, like a chuckling at oneself, but gradually grew into a wicked, bellowing thing. 

It was a laugh you were all too familiar with. One you had first heard as a fresh, new bounty hunter following your former master on her journey to take down Silvers Rayleigh, fearsome first mate of the soon-to-be King of the Pirates. 

Your master had been killed not long into the fight, but you had been too busy fighting off a red-nosed boy around your age to notice. You two had beaten the absolute shit out of each other, and would have continued till only one of you left victorious, but Rayleigh had stepped in, stopping you two before that could happen. He had spared you, despite your hot-headed vows of revenge.

You had thought all too much about that red-nosed boy as you continued across the East Blue. Thought about how he had been just as passionate and confident in his mentor’s skills--in his own skills--as you were. How he had been just as reckless and rash as you.

It wasn’t for another five years before you saw him again, still sailing around with your master’s killer, though you had given up on that revenge long before then. 

You had at this point in time found three other like-minded bounty hunters whom you joined up with. Hunters who had been tracking down a pirate unrelated to the boy you had battled with, though who just so happened to be celebrating some sort of victory on the same island. 

You two almost went head to head once more, had it not been for his calm and collected red-headed friend. A friend who had scared the shit out of you, despite his cool nature, so your fight ended swiftly and you left. 

More years passed and the more you ran into the clown. Each time you two found some way to fight--whether it be physical or verbal. A few times that red-headed friend was with him to help break it up, and other times you both were thrown out of whatever bar you had been in. 

You ran into him once more in some backwater bar, sitting alone and nursing a large pint of beer. He smirked your way when he spotted you and, to your surprise, bought you a drink. A drink you took reluctantly, waiting for the moment you would have to defend yourself against him. But instead, he merely talked to you. Told you how his captain had dissolved his crew, leaving him adrift. 

And there was hurt in his eyes. A sense of abandonment that had you carefully telling him of what had been happening in your own shit-filled life. Of a marine whose name you had just recently crossed off your list. How you had finally gotten him after years--gotten revenge for the lives he had taken from you in your youth. 

He’d laughed in something kin to understanding, insisting on buying you another drink to which you declined and went on your way. 

The last time you came across that laugh, you had just been left for dead by your so-called comrades--friends. Left to be found by the very marines you had crossed when you stumbled into a seemingly deserted town. A town you quickly found was overrun with freakish pirates. Freakish pirates who had managed to kidnap you in your weakened state and drag you into an equally freakish circus tent. 

The boy had grown up, just as you had. Had grown up to be captain of this band of freaks. One who had chained the poor people of that town up and used them for his own, sick entertainment. 

But when you saw him, that laugh sounding in your ears, you were reminded of just how much you thought of it. How many of your dreams had been haunted by it’s ring. Of how you, for whatever reason, held a sick sense of respect for him. And his eyes--they were all too bright looking upon you. All too seeing. 

After dramatically introducing you to his crew and captives, he had you dragged off into a back room where you were once more surprised when his freaks cleaned your wounds and gave you some water to drink. 

It was all very strange. It went against the very natural order of the world. The order between the hunter and the hunted. 

It had freaked you out all so much, you escaped before you had to face that haunting laugh and its owner. 

But here it was again, spilling from the red-painted lips of Buggy the clown, captain of the Buggy pirates, locked away in this all too wet marine brig pulling haunting ghosts from your past into the forefront of your mind. 

You kept your eyes trained on the two marines before you, watching them like a hawk. Watching for a slip-up. Something--anything that would help you in this situation. Something that would keep your eyes off the crazed clown and his grating laugh.

“If she’s a pirate, then that would make me one you shithead.” His gruff voice joked. The two marines shared a look between them. One that almost looked to have uneasy undertones to it. 

“You have no right interfering in marine business.” The second shot towards the cell just next to yours, only resulting in more insane laughter filling the air. The first marine just shook his head in growing annoyance. 

“Come on. He’s all locked up. That big-nosed freak can’t do a thing.” The laughter cut off sharply. 

“What did you just as say?” Buggy asked, his tone becoming all that much more serious. That more threatening--dangerous. The Marines bore shit-eating grins, obviously finding his growing pissed-off nature amusing. 

“You know, I never liked clowns. Freaky little fuckers.” The first said as they began heading for the exit once more. 

“This freaky little fucker is going to cut your nose off and force you to eat it when I get out of here.” This only seemed to tickle the marines further and they left without so much as another word. 

The brig was dead as a tomb for a moment you used to look about the confines of your cell, trying to find any weaknesses or things to make a makeshift weapon with so that you could escape sooner rather than later. Buggy gave an exasperated huffing sigh as your eyes locked onto something in the corner, just by the horrible-looking toilet. 

“Yeesh. Some people just don’t know how to have fun.” You all but ignored him, messing with the bit of scrap metal that had been idioticly left unfixed. “Whatcha got there, peach?” He said, using the nickname he had given you after you threw a peach you had mistaken for a rock at him when you had seen him that second time. He had used it ever since then and it’s continued to annoy you.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, finally yanking the bit of metal from its last hold on the base of the toilet. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“That’s no fun.” 

“Since when have you ever thought of me and fun at the same time?” You huffed, working on trying to unlock the cuffs that had been slapped around your wrists. It took you a minute to even get the bit of metal into the small keyhole, and with your hands locked together as they were, you hardly saw yourself free any time soon. 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re plenty fun. I think you do a fantastically fun job playing pirate bounty hunter.” You again ignored him. Tried not to even hear his all-too-chipper voice as you continued to work. “Playing pirate bounty hunter when you can’t even sail a ship. I think it shows your commitment to the part.” 

You finally snapped around to shoot a daggered glare Buggy’s way, whose usual red-painted lips were pulled up in a wide smile. He knelt before the bars separating the two cells, gloved hands clasped together before him. His clown-styled makeup was smudged in a way that told you he must have been here for a few days. You also noted the absence of his hat, which bore his insignia in the center, leaving him in his red and white striped bandana. 

You couldn’t help the small part of you that wished he was wearing it--the small part that thought it suited him all too well. A small part of you that you shoved down deep. 

Seeing him again after god knows how long was always--staggering. It brought back up such ugly feelings of hatred and utter sadness you’d felt after your master's death. Brought back up how surprised you’d been when he offered you a drink. Brought back up that equally as ugly feeling of respect and misplaced understanding. 

Buggy was an actor--a performer. Of course he would play the part he needed to get you to let your guard down--to not beat him into a pulp. 

It was all so aggravating. 

“It’s not some part.” Buggy rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion that only made your frustration coil tighter in your chest. “And I can sail a ship.” Buggy let out a sharp mocking laugh. 

“I seem to remember my freaks telling me of the struggle you had trying to leave that small island I found you on.” 

“I had lost a lot of blood.” You said as if you needed to give him any sort of explanation. As if you needed to keep talking to him. Turning away from this intense green-blue gaze, you went back to work on the cuffs. 

“You know, I was rather upset you left without saying goodbye,” Buggy said in fake hurt. “You didn’t even get to see my grand finale.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” You said in equally mocking tones. 

“I accept your--”

“Fuck off, Buggy. I should have beat your ass while I had the chance. I should have killed you and freed those poor people you terrorized.” Buggy pulled a smirk to his lips. 

“Beat my ass? I seem to remember it was me who kicked your ass last time.” A scoffing huff spilled from your lips. 

“We were ten years old--” 

“Ten in a half.” Buggy quickly corrected like it truly mattered. You shot him a look that said as much. 

“It doesn’t matter. I had no skill back then. No discipline. I would kill you now without ever batting an eye.” That smirk never once left Buggy’s lips, his eyes shining in utter amusement. Eyes that had your gut doing annoying and tiresome little twists. 

“And collect what bounty? Our cheery new friends seem to think you’re nothing but a “no-good pirate” now.” Despite that shot of anger that flared in your chest, you pulled on your own smirking smile. 

“It wouldn’t be for any bounty. It would be for my own amusement.” 

“Peach, if you're trying to flirt with me, it's working.” He all but purred your way. You rolled your eyes and truly went back to unlocking your cuffs. 

No more distractions. No more annoying banter with that clown pirate who grated on your nerves like no other. You couldn’t get caught. Not yet. Not before you got revenge for yourself. Revenge against those who had turned the world against you. “Peach--”

“You truly are horrible.” You snapped, unable to ignore the obvious rise Buggy was trying and successfully getting out of you.

“When I escape and free you,” Buggy started, only for you to cut him off with a scoff.

“You’re delusional.” Buggy rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“When I escape and free you, you’ll have to repay me.” 

“You aren’t freeing me. I can do that just fine on my own.” You snapped.

“Oh, I think I will.” You shot him a glare hoping he would shut up. He, of course, did no such thing. “And after I get us off this ship, I’m thinking you’ll be so overrun with emotion you’ll do something sweet for me.” You shook your head, shoving the bit of metal this way and that within the keyhole. 

“I don’t find your games amusing. I actually find them quite boring.” 

“Now you’re just being mean.” The sudden sound of rusting metal squeaking open pulled your attention away from your work and back onto Buggy. Your jaw all but fell open upon seeing Buggy sauntering out of his cell, his hand popping back onto his wrist, a ring of keys laying there. 

You had watched those Marines. Hadn’t missed a single twitch or breath, so how had you missed Buggy grabbing those keys from around the holder's waist? How had you missed a flying, dismembered hand?

“How--” You watched him unlock your cell door in utter disbelief. Watched as he took the few steps across the way so he was standing in front of you. Watched with a fluttering, tingling belly as he knelt before you, that all too charming smile on his lips. You covered your strange feelings with that of familiar annoyance for him. 

“Peach, I’m gonna let you out, but,” He said, sing-songingly elongating the last word. “I want you on my crew.” That was the last thing you thought you would hear from his lips. It was enough of a shock to squash any and all irritation you held in your chest for the clown.

You two had no like for the other. Every time you saw each other, it was either a fight or a backward attempt to mock and tease the other. You were the hunter and he was the hunted. Why would he ever want you to be near him in such a way? 

You laughed in his face. Laughed wholeheartedly in your unbelieving at his words. Laughed so hard it shook your shoulders. 

“You’re full of it. I despise pirates. I kill your kind for a living.” You snapped at him once you’re laughter subsided. 

“Past living.” You’re disbelief quickly turns back into that of anger. “And you’re perfect.” His words caught you off guard once more. Had you all but freezing up, unable to conquer up your anger.

Perfect. No one had ever uttered such a thing to you. 

It was…strange. You and him--it was all too strange. 

“I collect outcasts, those thrown away by society. Those hurt and betrayed and left to die, bleeding out on some hopeless island.” You felt your eyes suddenly prick in the remainder of your inner wounds. Wounds created by those you had thought were your friends--family. Those who you had loved more than you had ever loved anything in this world. 

Buggy saw all of this with those intent green-blue eyes. He saw this and he understood, despite your many differences. Because he had experienced it too. Had been hurt and left to rot by those he had cared about. 

“My freaks--my crew--don’t turn their backs as easily. I don’t turn my back that easily.” 

An actor--a performer. That’s all he was--all he ever would be…but damn if he wasn’t speaking to your soul. Wasn’t utterly pulling you into those green-blue eyes and that charming smile of his. 

“I--” You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. You should tell him to fuck off. That you would rather stay here and let the Marines drag you off to some prison to be forgotten in. But…but you didn’t say that. Your traitorous heart didn’t let you. “I am no pirate.” You all but whispered. It was a confession rather than a biting hiss.

Buggy smiled, his gloved hand coming up to grab hold of your chin in a grip that was just tight enough to keep you from looking away from him. It was all too much. It felt all too--too right, having the roles switched. Being the frightened sparrow and he the smiling chester cat, ready to snap your neck between his sharp, smiling jaws. 

“Oh, I know.” He whispered back as if it was a secret. “But I think you’ll like it. I think your cage door needs to be unlocked so you can fly free.” Before you could even open your mouth to try and pull together a rambling stream of words, the marine ship shook violently, the sound of cannon fire echoing down into the brig. That wickedly charming smile pulled onto Buggy’s lips. “Right on time.” He pulled his hand from your chin, the absence of his warmth leaving you annoyingly wishing for it back--wishing for more. 

What a strange, strange predicament you were in. What strange, strange emotions. It was all too confusing. Too much.

Buggy dangled the keys in front of your face as the ship was attacked once more. “How about you think on it while I take care of this, peach.” He said, dropping the keys into your lap before standing to his full, towering height. “Though, don’t strain that pretty little head of yours too much.” And with that Buggy left the cold, dank brig. 

You wasted no more time than you had, quickly unlocking the cuffs, which had been rubbing painfully against your skin, and heading in the direction Buggy had disappeared in. 

The next few moments went by in a flash. You getting to the deck and finding Buggy’s freaks had boarded and were mowing down marine after marine, leaving no survivors in their wake. Buggy laughing insanely as he fulfilled the threat he had shot their captor's way. You finding where they had stored your weapons, as well as Buggy’s hat. You killing anyone who got in your way as you found yourself heading for the edge of the ship--found your body had a mind of its own as you jumped, landing on the deck of the circus-themed ship Buggy commanded. 

This was your best and only escape route, you told yourself as you rushed around the ship, trying to find a place you could keep away from the rest of the world so you wouldn’t be found out. That place ended up being the large tent near the back of the ship, washed in shadow and thankfully empty. 

You passed the time by looking around the large area, finding it was very similar to that of the tent Buggy had set up on land all those years ago. 

Finding a pair of stairs, you winded up them, finding a singular chair sitting in the center of the raised platform. A throne, you realized. Buggy’s throne. You traced your fingers over the designs engraved in the wooden seat before sitting down, finding it would be the best place to wait out the fighting and think about your strange predicament. 

“That's my seat.” Buggy’s gruffing voice sounded in your ear a little less than an hour later. It didn’t startle you, his sudden appearance. You had marked his footfalls when he thought he had been sneaking into the tent to do just that. 

“Take it. It’s uncomfortable.” You murmured, pulling yourself from the throne which was, despite your words, rather comfortable. Buggy was much closer than you had originally thought, so close you had to tilt your head up just the slightest bit to look into those green-blue eyes of his. Eyes that never once moved away from your face as he flopped down on his throne, legs spread in some show of dominance. 

“So, tell me peach, what is your answer?” You moved your eyes away from Buggy’s intense stare, looking over his hat which you had taken with you off that marine ship. 

“Why free me?” You questioned, glancing back towards the pirate, whose eyes never seemed to have lifted from your form. 

“Because I’ve been looking for someone to fill the role of knife thrower in my performance. You are good with a blade.” It was a lie. You could tell it was a lie. And it ate at you despite your utter dislike for this pirate. You took a step closer, those green-blue eyes watching your movements. 

“That I am…but tell me something; what makes a pirate buy a drink for a bounty hunter?” You took another, calculated step that the clown marked. He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Why not? Getting you drunk seemed like a fun idea at the time.” He cracked a mischievous smile. “Still does.” You gave a small nod, pausing just before him. “You’re dancing around my question, peach. Maybe that's what I should make you.” 

You leaned forward the slightest bit, his knees brushing against your legs, being as close to him as you were. 

“You let me out of my chains. You dressed my wounds when you could have let me bleed out, and for those things, I owe you my life.” Buggy gave a small nod of his own.

“I feel a but coming.” 

“But I can’t be free yet. Not when those who betrayed me are still breathing.” That smile of his stayed in place, but a seriousness you had never seen before filtered into his eyes. A seriousness that spoke of understanding. Of respect. 

Strange--this was all so strange, things between you and him. Between hunter and the hunted. 

“And then?” He questioned. You moved ever closer, you’re legs fitting between his in a strange sort of puzzle. Buggy watched and allowed you to gently tug his hat back onto his head, his breath tickling your lips.

You thought of the way his hand on your chin felt. How it had all but drove you crazy. How you had wished, no matter how absurd, to have it back there--to have more. 

“Tell me why you saved me.” You spoke softly so that Buggy and Buggy alone could hear. “Why do you want me on your crew? Why, when you should have killed me--when you’ve wanted to kill me ever since we were young?” Buggy’s eyes fluttered down to your lips as they moved. A small action that had that buzzing in your body stirring alive once more. 

“I think you know.” He spoke just as softly in that gruffing voice of his. A voice that had been bouncing around in your brain for longer than you liked to admit. 

“I don’t think I do.” Buggy’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit like he was annoyed at your comment. An annoyance you wanted to drag out of him. You knew he didn’t want to admit it. Knew that he probably had never had to explain himself before. “Because I am still under the impression that I am the hunter ready to collect that sizable bounty on your head.” 

“You think my bounty is sizable?” He smirked, continuing to dance around the topic. 

“Enough to get me a ship that floats and an expensive bottle of wine.” You said in an attempt to get under his skin. You saw that flash of irritation in his eyes that made your own smirk pull to your lips. 

“A ship you couldn’t even sail?” He teased, moving closer so that his lips were mere inches away from your own.

Your mind raced to wonder what they might feel like fitted against yours. How it might feel to have his hands running over your skin--to feel his skin. 

It was all too strange, the things he was able to pull from you. Such strange feelings. 

“You annoy me.” You jabbed his way, your eyes fluttered every so often to those red-painted lips of his. 

If you kissed him, would your lips come away just as red?

“You’re eyes annoy me, your laugh, your voice.” Buggy looked as if he was trying to figure out if your words were supposed to be meant as an insult or some backwards complaint. You wondered this as well. 

“And it annoys me that you understand. Say you understand.” You found yourself saying in a biting manner. The pirate looked over your face, seeming unsure of what to do next. Unsure of what to say even when you had just spelled it out for him. 

His hand reached out and took hold of your chin in his solid grip. A grip that sent your stomach fluttering uncontrollably. “I understand.” Was all he said before he was pulling your lips flush against his own. 

You hardly had control of yourself as you kissed him back in a frenzy, all sense of self-control and reason flying out the window. A kiss fueled by your strange, strange feelings for this clown. Feelings a mix of dislike, annoyance, understanding, and respect. Feelings you’d been harboring deep within yourself for a long, long time. 

His kiss burned through you, had your hands grabbing at his jacket and all but ripping it from his body, feeling over his strong, exposed arms. His skin was warm and felt so nice against your own. Skin you wished to feel covering your whole body. 

Buggy hands moved along your body, pulling you closer. His touch sent your skin on fire. A fire that hat engulfed your entire being, demanding to be satisfied. 

Your hands moved downward, over his equally strong chest and abdomen until they found the edge of his pants, your fingers fumbling to undo his buttons. Buggy mimicked your actions, finding and unfastening the buttons there. 

You pulled away from Buggy long enough to hasten along the process of shoving your pants over and off your legs. A process you had hardly finished before Buggy was grabbing you up once more, claiming your lips in a hot, needy kiss. A kiss that felt more like a fight for dominance. A fight the two of you never could seem to truly finish. 

Buggy’s hands took fist fulls of your ass, guiding you up and onto the throne with him, your knees straddling either side of him. Reaching down between the two of you, your hand disappeared into Buggy’s pants, taking hold of is hardened cock and giving it a few good, teasing pumps. He gave a throaty groan that had that heat shoot through your core, making your pussy throb in just as much need as the rest of your body. 

As quickly as you could, you pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants, hardly waiting before you were descending downward, a sweet little moan spilling from your lips. 

Fuck it was good. It felt so good being connected this way. In a way that was slowly filling that yawning need within you. A need you had been holding at bay for a long time. 

“F-fuck, peach.” Buggy moaned into your mouth, his hands moving to hold onto your hips in a near steel-like grip. A grip that guided you further down so that you were fully seated on top of him. “So fucking good.” 

You moaned your own pleasure as you began to move up and down, slowly at first so that you might feel every last inch he had to offer. A pace that gradually quickened, finding that need within you all but commanding you to do so. Grabbing hold of one of Buggy’s hands, you guided his gloved fingers to find that small bundle of nerves that all but begged for his attention. Silently told him just how you liked it to be touched and, surprisingly, he was a quick learner. 

It was good. Almost too good. Never would you have imagined this happening--you fucking this vastly annoying clown. The very clown you’d fought for years. But then again, this was just another sort of fight. A fight for dominance and submission. A fight you much rather preferred over that of brute force and stabbing words. 

Buggy’s lips left yours only to latch onto the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting in a way that drove you crazy. That sent you quickly spiraling closer and closer over the edge. 

“Oh god--Buggy, I’m--I’m…” His fingers kept circling your clit, bringing you all that much closer to your finish. 

“Come for me, peach. F-fuck--you’re such a sweet little thing.” You moved your face so that you could press your lips against his once more, moan after moan vibrating through your throat. 

So much--too much. It was all so good you’re legs began to turn to jelly. Began to give out under your own weight. Buggy seemed to understand this and pulled away from your clit only so he could grab you up in his strong arms. Arms that held you up as he fuck into you mercilessly.

You spiraled up and up and up until your pussy was clutching around his cock and pure bliss was shooting through you. Buggy’s name flew from your lips as you held onto him for dear life. The pirate gave a few last, grunting thrusts before he was spilling into you. 

Buggy buried his face in your chest, his chest heaving up and down just as your own, both of you fighting to take in the thick air around you. 

The tent was filled with nothing but the sound of your mixing breaths for a long moment. A moment you took the time to run your hands over any and all exposed skin Buggy had to offer. Warm skin that brought you such strange, strange comfort. 

“And then?” Buggy asked, taking you by surprise. It was the same question he had asked you only moments ago. A question of what you would do after you had avenged yourself. You pressed your cheek against the side of his head, your lips brushing over his right ear. 

“Then I will return,” You breathed, feeling Buggy’s body go just that much more still against yours. “And I will be free.”

#buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece live action #buggy live action #opla buggy #buggy smut #one piece smut #buggy x you #captian buggy #the hunter and hunted #one piece marines #commission #buggy x female reader #buggy x f!reader #buggy pirates #x reader #banner by cafekitsune #opla smut #one piece #one piece fic #buggy #opla

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Not sure if you've closed or open requests but

How do you feel about writing a Yan! Slime? Could be platonic or romantic up to you! Idk slimes are cute :3

(also I'm permanently gonna low key stalk ur blog since again yummy yan fics hope you don't mind me staying- /hj)

CW: Wholesome, romantic, stalker monster love ahead ❤️ proceed with caution❤️

Accidently pushed post whoops done now lol

The five year old boy burst through the bushes, tumbling awkwardly and unskillfully before slowly popping up onto his feet and swinging his stick sword forward. His sibling, (Reader), high stepped carefully over the branches of the bush their brother had just crashed through. (Reader) nervously held their own sword, following their older brother into the woods.

"Jay, can we please go back?" (Reader) whined, trying not to cry nervously as they "explored" deeper into the forest.

"Don't be a baby!" Jay chastised, raising his arms high above his head. "How are you gonna be a monster hunter if you're too chicken?!"

(Reader) grumbled, dragging their shoes in the dirt. "I don't wanna be a monster hunter.. I wanna go home! I'm hungry!"

Jay opened his mouth, and raised his fists, ready to say something when something moved nearby, plopping loudly into a pile of dry leaves. His big, childish eyes went wide with fear, immediately losing all confidence and hiding behind (Reader), holding his thin stick in front of his face defensively. He was too scared to speak, trembling into (Reader's) back.

The younger of the two felt a surge of strength, needing to protect their beloved big brother, so they gripped their weapon with both hands, scrunching up their chubby little face to appear tough. They stomped over to the bush the sound came from, holding their breath, unlike Jay who was hyperventilating. (Reader) removed one pudgy hand from their stick, and swiftly pushed back the little branches, exposing a tiny green blob.

Jay released a high pitched scream and took off running back home, dropping his stick.

The glob was vibrating, and (Reader) was instantly filled with sympathy, assuming the little ball of goo was shaking with fear. "Hey, don't be scared." The four year old cooed, dropping their 'sword' and sitting on their knees to be closer. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a monster." (Reader's) cheesy grin showed off their missing front teeth.

Whatever the green thing was slowly went still, and (Reader) could feel it looking up at them.

"My name is (Reader), and I'm," they looked at their fingers, focusing on holding up the right number, before practically shoving their fingers in the glob's personal space, "four years old!"

The goo reached forward, forming a little nub of a hand, touching (Reader's) fingers. It was surprisingly warm. (Reader) opened their hand so it could roll onto their palm.

"Burrrrble!" The thing happily gurgled, looking quite pleased despite it's lack of a face.

"Burble? Is that your name?"

"Prrrr?" It patted their hand, not understanding the question. (Reader) laughed, feeling ticklish.

"I'm gonna be your best friend!" They decided, cupping the slime with both hands, still giggling over the sticky tingling the little guy caused. "I'll visit you every day, and we can play together everyday after school!"

And (Reader) kept their promise, visiting every single day, for years. The two friends grew up together, Burble learning to speak (Reader's) language over time as (Reader) brought their homework into the woods to have more time with Burble while they studied. Jay kept Burble's existence a secret, but never got over his fear of the creature, so he kept his distance from the two while they played.

Burble had a difficult time not praising (Reader) for their heroics, because if they did it would reveal that Burble had been watching them at school. Living alone in the woods was isolating, especially as a monster, their presence frightening off animals of all species. At first it was just because of how lonely they were, wanting to leave the forest to be with (Reader). They turned Burble down, reminding them how dangerous it would be, now no longer the naive child who didn't understand that slimes were monsters. But, no one would know if Burble attached just a little piece of themselves inside (Reader's) backpack, just to hear their voice while they were away.

Fourteen years later, Burble had been practicing in secret, forming their naturally round body into a humanoid form, trying to perfect their appearance before they revealed themselves to (Reader). It happened so naturally, Burble falling in love with their one and only friend. They wondered if (Reader) could ever feel the same. (Reader) was just so perfect; they were kind and strong, preferring pacifism, but quick to throw themselves in danger's way to protect the ones they love, just like when they first met. Even at school, (Reader) would stand up for those being bullied on a regular basis, gaining a reputation for standing up for those too scared to protect themselves. And they never bragged about it!

The green slime learned so much about (Reader) through the way they interacted with others at school, and fell deeper in love everytime they opened their mouth. (Reader) was an angel on Earth.

(Reader) trudged into the forest behind their home, exhausted after field hockey but refusing to take even a day off from visiting their best friend. It was surprising, learning that Burble was less of a pet and actually a sentient being with thoughts and feelings, but that was even more exciting, being able to communicate with a species not known for their intelligence. Burble rolled onto view, now a very large blob the size of (Reader) if they tucked in their arms and legs.

"(Reader)!" They happily gurgled, jiggling up to the high school senior. "How was your day?"

"Same old, same old." (Reader) lied, still wearing their gym shirt because their original clothes got soaked with milk after they stood up to Cody, the biggest dick they ever met.

Burble knew this, however, and was fine with (Reader) lying, knowing they were just being humble. It made their non-existent heart swell. (Reader) pulled out a bunch of classwork, and a brochure slipped out from a folder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's a pamphlet for a university. Admissions are coming up, so I've been looking around."

The green color lightened almost to a sick looking yellow. Burble hadn't heard anything about this! What did they mean?!

"Burble, you okay?"

"Does that mean you're leaving?" Burble's voice shook, wobbling their jelly body.

"Yeah, if I make it in, but that's still half a year away, so we have time-"

Burble cut them off. "Don't go."

(Reader) sighed, placing a hand on top of their friend's smooth body. "I can't stay with my parents forever. I want to go explore, meet new people, hopefully get a career a have a passion for."

"Then take me with you!" Burble shouted, heating up under (Reader's) hand, the yellow intensifying.

The now yellow blob lunged at (Reader), morphing into a humanesque shape, creating a beautiful face that looked to be on the verge of tears. Burble held (Reader) to the ground, trapping (Reader's) body with their arms and knees.

"Burble, what the hell?" (Reader) wasn't angry, or nervous, just confused, not understanding what had gotten into their childhood friend.

"You can't leave me alone, (Reader), please!" Burble was incapable of forming tears, but their body ached like they were sobbing, rumbling instead of heaving as they didn't need to breathe. They slammed their face onto (Reader's), knowing what kissing was from a picture book (Reader) had shown them as a child, but not quite understanding how to actually do it. Their newly formed lips moved against (Reader's) timidly, easily holding down the struggling human. Burble broke the kiss so (Reader) could gasp for air. "I love you, (Reader), please don't leave me!"

A hurricane of emotions ripped (Reader's) mind apart, struggling with accepting what was happening. Their first kiss was taken by their best friend, who was still holding them tightly against the dirt ground.

"Let's.. let's talk about this later.. I need to go home." (Reader) stuttered, overwhelmed by the emotions they never felt before rampaging in their skull. Burble sunk lower, melting over (Reader's) body to better prevent their leaving.

"No.. not until you promise not to leave me." Their voice was barely a whisper, begging for (Reader) to love them back.

"I-I won't leave you. We'll figure something out.. You've just gotten too big to hide and-" Burble's weight was heavy on (Reader's) ribcage. "we'll figure something out."

Satisfied, Burble sat up and rolled off of (Reader), slowly changing back to their natural green hue. "You promise?"

"I promise." (Reader) face a sad smile, still incapable of fearing their dear friend.

Burble smiled, barely maintaining their shape as they allowed (Reader) to leave. They trusted (Reader), even if (Reader) didn't accept their confession at that moment, there was no way they would break their promise. And, if for some reason they did, if someone like their nervous brother fear mongered (Reader) into abandoning Burble, they would always be able to find them. The green slime collapsed back into a ball, happily listening to (Reader) through the tiny piece of themselves still hiding in (Reader's) backpack.

"Please come back soon.."

#soft yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere slime #accidentally posted this early instead of saving it as a draft #whoops #i'm just really stupid lol #so sorry #not proofread #i hope you like it #again i'm so sorry #i'm really dumb

[bwabys-scenarios]

Pampering

Kurapika x Fem!Reader x Leorio

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: period sex, breeding, cockwarming, reader gets eaten out on her period, cum eating, threesome

A/N: this is super self indulgent, I woke up to my period and needed to write something sweet and comforting with my favorite boys<3

summary: If Kurapika and Leorio can agree on one thing when it comes to you, it’s that you deserve all the love and pampering in the world. So when you get your period in the middle of the night, they’re determined to make you as comfortable and happy as possible, given the situation.

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

On most nights, you slept in bed with Kurapika. These days, after gathering all of his clans eyes and giving up on his vengeance with the Phantom Troupe, Kurapika became a stay at home boyfriend and you a stay at home girlfriend. Kurapika didn’t have to work, he had enough money from his days as a blacklist Hunter to last him several lifetimes, and neither of your boyfriends ever allowed you to spend a single dime on anything but yourself. Even then, they still just LOVED to pamper you.

Leorio often worked night shifts at the local hospital, and came back in the early morning for some sleepy cuddles with you. This left you and Kurapika alone together during the night.

This night was no different. Kurapika had held you, whispering words of love and adoration as the two of you fell asleep. Unfortunately, the blonde had a tight grip on you, even in his sleep, which meant when you woke up covered in blood, you had to wake him up too.

“(Name)? Oh, oh my god are you okay?”

The blonde immediately began to panic, his eyes searching you for any wounds before you stopped him. “It’s not like that, I’m okay. It’s…”

You become flustered, looking away from your boyfriend. “I started my period.”

He seems relieved, but his expression switches back to worry in an instant. “Are you in pain? Are you supposed to bleed this much? Shit, Leorio knows more about this sort of thing than me…”

Kurapika notices your flustered expression. “(Name), my angel, what’s wrong?”

“… I made a mess, this is really embarrassing for me.”

He blinks, glancing down at the blood stained sheets before his eyes soften. “My angel, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. You can’t help it, your menstrual cycle is natural.”

Kurapika holds onto your hand, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “I’ll start you a bath, then wash the sheets while you clean up, okay? Good thing you thought to buy extra sets of sheets. Neither Leorio or I thought it was necessary. You have all the common sense, that’s our lovely girlfriend for you.”

You blush, and allow him to carry you to the bathroom. You cringe when you spot a patch of blood on his sleeve from holding onto you, but he simply drops his shirt into the hamper.

Kurapika starts you a bath, helping to undress you. He’s a very hands on boyfriend, and has a bad habit of babying you, but in this moment you really appreciate how sweet and caring he is. He places your dirtied clothes in the hamper before leaving to wash the sheets.

You sit in the warm water, letting it soothe your cramping body. A few minutes later he returns with a new set of pajamas and panties for you. “I hope this is okay, I picked out something more soft and comfortable.”

When you start to cry he quickly scampers to pick up the pajamas. “Y-you don’t like these? I can get you a different pair-“

You shake your head and he stops. “No, sorry I’m just feeling emotional right now. You’re being so sweet to me, I just…”

He kneels next to the bathtub, pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your cheek. “Shh, I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do as your boyfriend. You deserve all the love and sweetness in the world, let me take care of you, okay?”

Kurapika helps you out of the bath, giving you reassuring kisses as he dries you off. He offered to help dress you and even help put your pad on, but you shooed him out of the bathroom. “I can do that myself!”

The blonde sat in the bedroom waiting for you, his eyes a little tired. When you finally walk out of the bathroom, he smiles, tucking you into bed before climbing in with you.

As you fall asleep, he texts Leorio, updating him on the situation. Just like Kurapika, he becomes worried, instructing the blonde on how to help soothe your cramps and take care of you until he gets home.

———————

You wake up to the sounds of someone rustling around in your shared bedroom’s closet. A soft groan escapes your lips, causing the noise to stop. “(Name), are you awake? Are you hurting?”

Kurapika crouches down next to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a good look at you. “Yeah, I am cramping a bit…”

The blonde sighs, seemingly pained to know you aren’t feeling well. “I see, it’s good that Leorio told me some ways to soothe your pain. I just found the heating pad, would you like it?”

That explains the rustling sound. You nod, and he plugs the heating pad up, placing its cover over it before laying it on your abdomen. “Mmm…”

He seems beyond relieved when you relax at the comforting heat, his head moving to rest on your lap. “Is that helping, love?”

“Yes, I’m already feeling better. I think…” you yawn, playing with his hair, causing him to nuzzle further into your lap. “I think I’ll sleep in a little…”

“That’s perfectly fine with me, angel. You need your rest.”

He sighs contentedly. “Leorio will be home in a few hours, he’s going to grab some more pads and little treats for you on the way home.”

You nod sleepily, your fingertips caressing your cheek. “That’s so… sweet..”

You drift off again, and eventually feel Kurapika climb back in with you. The two of you share the warmth of the heating pad. Sometimes, you swear your boyfriend has to be half cat with the way he almost purrs and insists on cuddling with you, nuzzling into your body as much as he can.

When you woke up next, it was to the smell of breakfast foods. This confused you however, since you’re the only person in the relationship that can cook.

“Yeah, yeah I got the chocolates. And some extra Midol.”

You move out of bed, stepping into your bunny slippers before walking into the living room.

Your boyfriends were standing in the kitchen nearby, unloading groceries and looking over a few takeout boxes. “Guys?”

The two look up, both giving you a worried look before they rush towards you. “Princess, are you feeling any better? After you eat I can give you some Midol.”

Leorio hugs you, his big, warm hands rubbing gently at your lower back. Although you’ve dated Kurapika longer, the blonde wasn’t around much, so you spent a lot more time with Leorio, even before you started dating him too. He knew where your aches were and how to make you feel better, and you sigh in relief when he massages your sore spots.

“‘Mmm… yeah, I’m starving. Kurapika, how long did I sleep in?”

The blonde peeked at her from behind Leorio, pushing the tall man out of his way before giving her a hug of his own. “Its only 11 am, you didn’t sleep in long. I just woke up an hour ago myself, so I got some cleaning done.”

And you start to tear up again, giving him a kiss. “I love you both, so much…”

You pull Leorio in for a kiss of his own, hugging your boyfriends tight. The two smile and kiss your cheeks, laughing. “Okay princess, let’s get you fed.”

———————

After eating some waffles, eggs, and sausage for breakfast, Leorio gives you some Midol and plops you down on the couch. He’s quick to sit with you, pulling up into his lap so he can massage your lower back and abdomen.

“Ahh…”

You sigh contentedly, almost mewling. This alone was enough to make the both of them clear their throats, but when you start to push Leorio’s hand down your tummy until his finger dips under the waistband of your panties, suddenly there’s something poking into your ass.

“(Name)?”

Leorio swallows, but you seem oblivious to how the situation looks. You’re just wanting him to massage where it hurts. “Hurts… right here…”

Kurapika sits next to the two, pulling you a little closer so he could help massage you. “Leorio, get your mind out of the gutter.”

He pulls you into his lap, slipping his hand under your panties to rub exactly where you asked. “Is that better, angel?”

You sigh in contentment, nuzzling into his chest. “Mhm…”

Leorio huffs, scooting closer to pull you until you’re sitting in both of their laps. “I can put aside any horniness for my princess…” he says softly, gently massaging your sore breasts.

You feel so happy and content as your boyfriends do their best to make you feel better. They’re so sweet, giving you reassuring kisses and soft touches when you feel pain because of a cramp or ache.

“How does takeout for dinner sound, princess?”

You nod, stretching a little. “Mmm… I wanna bath… the warm water helps…”

Neither of them argue, despite the fact you took a bath earlier. Leorio carries you to the bathroom as Kurapika starts the bath, the two undressing you before undressing themselves.

When the three were picking an apartment, they made sure there would be enough room for the three of them to bathe and sleep together. It would only be fair, because if only one of the got to hold you at a time, jealousy would rise between them.

Once in the bath, you sat between Kurapaiks legs as Leorio washed you, taking his time to massage the soap into your skin. “You’re tense, hopefully this will help…”

As a doctor, Leorio worries over you constantly. He just wants the best for you, and can’t pamper you enough, especially when you’re hurting.

He reaches your pussy, glancing up at you for your permission before he washes you. He knew not to use any soap there, gently rubbing to clean you. “That feel okay, princess?”

Kurapika reaches for your breasts as Leorio’s thumb rubs circles into your clit. “Mhm… feeling… a lot better…”

You feel Kurapika’s cock harden against your back, and can see Leorio’s sticking out of the water. “Mmm…”

You wiggle a little, scooting so your hips lined up with Kurapika’s. He smiles, sliding into you, keeping you balanced in his cock as the two tend to you. “That’s my pretty girl. I heard sex is supposed to help relieve some of the pain during your period.” Leorio says, leaning forward to lock your lips with his as he stimulates your little bundle of nerves.

It feels nice to have Kurapika inside of you while the two pamper you. Leorio scrubs your hair, moaning when you stroke his needy length. “Mmph, thank you princess…”

Kurapika whispers sweet words of love and adoration as he washes you, lathering soap over your tits. “You’re so pretty, (Name). My precious angel, I’d do anything to make you feel better.”

You make such cute sounds, Leorio can’t help but speed up his movements, rinsing off your tits before taking a nipple into his mouth. “Hnn, Leorio!”

Kurapika gasps softly, holding onto your thighs. He tries not to bounce you on his cock, if you wanted him to move you would ask him, instead, he just focused on the feeling of you squeezing around him. “Mm, fuck (Name)…”

He massaged your breast as Leorio suckled on the other one, pushing you close to your climax. “G-gonna!”

You cum, squeezing Kurapika’s cock and moving your hand around Leorio’s faster. They both groaned, but didn’t cum. They finished washing you, helping you out if the bath and dressing you in pajamas. It wasn’t night time, but they wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

Though they still pamper you and take care of you, their touches linger in certain places, and you can tell they’re still horny. Honestly, your hormones are Nanking you got and bothered too, and after dinner you whine and pull them both into bed. “P-please… I want… I want you both so much…”

And how can they say no when their precious princess was in pain and needy?

Leorio was quick to tug off his pants, Kurapika running to the bathroom to grab a towel to place under your hips. “Hey, wait a second Leorio!”

He pouts at his friend, then lifts up your hips so Kurapika can place the towel under you. “Thank you, Pika. That’s a good idea…” you coo, and he comforts you as Leorio pushes into your bloody cunt.

“F-fuck, so good princess…”

You whimper, and Kurapika shushes you with sweet kisses, propping your head up on his lap as he plays with your hair. “It’s okay, angel. Such a good girl, taking it so well…”

He gives you his fingers to suck on as Leorio thrusts into you. Leorio is gentle, his movements more sensual and loving than usual. This is all for you, to help your pain and to make you feel better, his own pleasure comes second. He wants to pound into you, make you gasp and whine out his name, but he takes his time, leaning down to suckle on your breasts.

Leorio keeps his hands on your hips, whispering sweet nothings into your ears. Kurapika can feel his cock hardening in his pants, and it pokes into your cheek. You give him a smile, placing a kiss on his bulge. “Love you… love you both more than anything…”

Leorio pulls out and cum on your tummy, a little bit of your blood dripping from his cock turning his cum a pretty pink color. Kurapika takes this chance to pull you into his lap, his cock out and ready for you.

“C’mon angel, let’s get you filled up. Gonna have my baby, right?”

You nod frantically, whining and wiggling your hips. “P-please! C-cum inside me lots!”

Leorio takes a moment to recover before sitting in front of the two of you as Kurapika bounces you on his cock, the dark haired man smiling and rubbing your blood soaked thighs. “You’d be so cute with a little baby bump, princess.”

Although Leorio doesn’t want to be the one to get you pregnant yet, he still desperately wants to see the changes your body would go through. Kurapika was all for rebuilding his clan with you, and had made it clear to you at the beginning of your relationship. The three of you have been trying for a baby for the past few weeks, and every time you had sex, Kurapika went feral with the thought of this being the time he got you pregnant.

“That’s my pretty girl, gonna get you nice and full, I promise.”

You whine as he raises his hips to meet yours, his movements a bit rougher. Usually, Kurapika would scold Leorio for being too rough with you, but now it was Leorio’s time to place a hand on Kurapika’s hip. “Hey, careful. She’s sensitive right now.”

Kurapika pants, nodding before slowing down to a steady, sensual rhythm. He wanted to make you feel good, to ease your pain if only a little. “So sorry angel, lemme make it up to you.”

He rubs circles into her clit, placing kissed and gentle bites on her neck. This was enough to help her relax. “Mmm… so sweet to me…”

This went on for a while, and after Kurapika came inside of you a few times, Leorio took over.

When Leorio would accidentally cum inside of you, Kurapika was quick to drop to his knees and eat Leorio’s cum out of you. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry for a second, love.”

By the end of the night, you were full of cum and completely satisfied. Your boyfriends helped clean you up, whispering praise as they took turns eating you out. “So pretty…”

After getting changed into a new set of pajamas and cleaning up the sheets, the three of you eat ice cream and watch a movie, cuddled up together.

Having two boyfriends can be a bit hard sometimes, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. They loved you more than anything, and made sure you felt beautiful and loved with every opportunity they got.

“I love you, boys…” you say softly as you begin to drift off. They kiss your cheeks, smiling before nuzzling into you.

“Love you too, princess.”

“I love you dearly, angel.”

#x reader #anime x reader #headcanon #requests open #reader insert #hxh x reader #hxh imagines #smut requests #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter smut #hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x hunter #leorio paradinight x reader #leorio headcanons #leorio x reader #leorio smut #hxh leorio #leorio paladiknight #kurapika headcanons #kurapika smut #kurapika x reader #kurapika hxh #kurapika hunter x hunter #hxh smut #period smut #x reader smut #anime x chubby reader #chubby!reader #chubby reader #female reader

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Call of Duty Werewolves🐺 - Part 2!

{Author's Note} Since y'all loved the first part so much, here's a second for you to enjoy! I've included more lore and some cute werewolf snippets for each of the characters I mentioned in the first post so hopefully I managed to write them all accurately. I'll probably do a fic for one of them at some point so let me know who you'd like to see! Thank you for all the love and please feel free to write/ask for more headcanons for this AU! I'm having so much fun with it❤️ Happy Halloween! 🎃🧟‍♂️👻 >Call of Duty Werewolf AU -> Part 1 >Shadow Company Snippet by @http-paprika -> SC Werewolf AU (she's also writing her own werewolf AU fic so go give it some love👀)

~ ~ ~

>Werewolves have fangs in both forms. The human canines are replaced by longer, sharper teeth when natural werewolves lose their baby teeth. In bitten werewolves, the human canines are pushed out within their first month of being turned. While in human form, only the sharper tips are visible, resulting in fanged smiles (just imagine your favorite boy flashing you a fanged grin👀). When transforming, the teeth extend from the gums as the muzzle forms.

>Werewolf hair and nails grow faster and are usually thicker, requiring more frequent trimming, especially after a transformation.

>Werewolves heal faster than their human counterparts. Cuts heal in a few minutes, broken bones take days rather than weeks. Most tissues can be fully regenerated, except for entire limbs. The canine teeth will always be replaced if lost.

>Bones and muscles are thicker and heavier than those of humans, resulting in increased strength and stamina.

>Werewolves digest meat more easily than humans and prefer carnivorous diets. It's healthier for them to consume more meat on a regular basis.

>Werewolf senses are far more acute than humans'. They have great night vision and colors are more vivid to them, as if the saturation has been increased. Their enhanced hearing, however, can be problematic and a werewolf will often have to learn how to tune out certain sounds so they're not completely overwhelmed. Scent is also important to them as it denotes health, emotional state, and belonging. Familiar smells offer comfort, whether they belong to people, places, or things.

>While transformed, werewolves can't really speak. The fangs and muzzle tend to prevent intelligible human speech. On the other hand, their unique vocal cords allow for animalistic grunts and growls, even in human form.

>Transformations will always be painful for both werewolf types. With practice, the process can become smoother and faster but it will always have a pinch, especially as the face changes. Heightened emotions can trigger the beginnings of the change, though it takes a conscious effort to completely transform, unless a werewolf is suffering from moon blindness. Bitten werewolves tend to be more reactive but transform more slowly as it takes longer for their bodies to get used to the shift in comparison to natural werewolves, who are specially built for it from birth.

>A werewolf's transformed state is so dependent on their human traits that they don't always look very wolfish. Some can look like coyotes, foxes, or even bears because of differing body types, features, and hair colors.

>Poisonous to humans, wolfsbane also has an adverse effect on werewolves. It clouds their senses and prevents them from transforming but it won't kill them. It's often used to control a werewolf and keep them in line. However, it can also be mixed into a poultice to treat wounds caused by silver.

>Silver causes mild allergic reactions in werewolves. It only becomes fatal when enough of it pierces the skin and enters the bloodstream, which is why hunters lace their weapons and bullets with silver. Despite this, many werewolves still revere the metal for its association with the Moon.

🌙 🐺 🌙

💲Price is the fluffiest. His iconic beard remains when he's transformed, making him easily recognizable, though he has been mistaken for a bear in the past. If you laugh at that fact, he'll simply huff in feigned annoyance and lay on top of you to prevent you from escaping. Being a natural werewolf, not only does he have more hair but Price's transformations are about as easy as they can be so he'll often use his time with you to relax and catch up on sleep. He sleeps the most soundly when you're cuddled into his chest or back, your face pressed to his fluffy mane. He loves hearing about how much you love his fluff and secretly takes pride in it.

💀Ghost is the biggest. As a 6'4 mountain of a man, he's even larger when transformed. It'll take some getting used to, especially when he transforms in your living space. If you try to make the area more comfortable for him, he'll be especially grateful for your effort. More than anything, he'll just want to be close and feel your touch. His body aches after he transforms and he's more easily overwhelmed so the gentleness of your hands helps him settle into this second shape. No matter how many times you've seen him transformed, he'll always feel some degree of shame around you so make sure he knows just how adored he is.

🧼Soap is the most playful. His transformations tend to energize him rather than exhaust him so expect him to be bouncing off the walls for a bit. If you match his energy level, he'll never let you go. He'll want to chase you and wrestle around but he's hyper-aware of his own strength so any change in your attitude will make him settle down. Once he's burned through that extra energy, he'll just want to listen to you ramble about anything that comes to mind, even if he can't really respond.

🧢Gaz is the sweetest. In the field, he’s known for his level-headedness and clever quips. When he gets home, he’s nothing but a big softie with you. His favorite place to be is in your lap, his wolfish head snuggled against your stomach as you card your fingers through his hair. To know that you accept and love this side of him warms his heart and he'll let you know just how happy it makes him with plenty of cuddles and kisses. He absolutely loves hearing you giggle and does just about anything he can to get that reaction from you.

🦿Alex is the most sensitive. All werewolves tend to be very in-tune with their surroundings, especially in the military, but Alex is even more so. His job as a secret agent of sorts has honed his ability to pick up on the tiniest changes in his environment and, when it comes to you, he's even more aware of your reactions. A slight change in your scent or heartbeat will immediately have him hurrying to your side to check in. More often than not, he can tell if he's actually needed but you're always grateful for his attentiveness and respond with a reassuring hand to his head or chest so he knows you're alright. When you're not, prepare for some inescapable werewolf cuddles.

🪦Graves is the most stubborn. As the Commander of Shadow Company, one of the most notorious groups of werewolves around, he's used to getting his way. When it comes to you, however, he tends to give in far more easily, especially so when he's transformed. A simple scratch around his ears or under his chin will make him melt in seconds and he'll never be able to resist when you run your fingers through the sandy blond hair covering his neck. The usually snarling and snapping werewolf commander will want nothing more than to hold you close, peppering your skin with gentle kisses and warm huffs of breath. Just don't let his Shadows know or he’ll withhold his cuddles.

🐺 🌙 🐺

*BONUS: Werewolf features! Thought it'd be fun to do short descriptions of how I imagine the boys! This includes height, eye color, and hair color for each of them. Pretty straightforward lol

💲Price - 6'2" -> 7'2" ; blue eyes ; brown hair w/ strands of gray

💀Ghost - 6'4" -> 7'4" ; brown -> yellow-amber eyes ; dirty blond/brown hair

🧼Soap - 5'10" -> 6'10" ; blue eyes ; dark brown hair

🧢Gaz - 5'11" -> 6'11" ; dark brown -> orange eyes ; black hair

🦿Alex - 6' -> 7' ; blue -> silvery-gray eyes ; light brown hair

🪦Graves - 6' -> 7' ; blue eyes ; sandy blond hair

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alex keller #phillip graves #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty au #cod au #werewolf au #werewolf #werewolves #lycanthropy #Ren's writing #mine mine mine

[techsbrowneyes]

Thank you for all the likes and comments on my previous posts. I really appreciate them ❤️

Here’s another fluffy Bad Batch one-shot in an AU where everyone is happy and alive and living on Pabu - just the way I like it!

Also, Phee and Tech have a little surprise :)

Summary: Hunter is confused by the many changes Omega is going through. He needs advice, and Phee is just the person to give it.

Title: Changes

Word count: 2,415

***

Omega was acting strange.

Hunter couldn’t figure it out. One morning she was her usual chipper self, off to school after kissing him good-bye.

The next she was spending hours in the ‘fresher and trying out new hair styles and fretting over her appearance. She even asked him once if he thought she looked pretty. Of course, his opinion didn’t seem to matter because he was her father and he was probably just saying nice things because.

Hunter decided he was terribly inexperienced when it came to adolescent girls. He knew she was going through many changes right now, but he didn’t quite understand what those changes were. Perhaps if he had some advice, he’d be better equipped to handle this new phase in his daughter’s life.

So he decided to pay his sister-in-law a visit. Phee was a woman. She would know what to do, and Hunter would appreciate any help she could give him.

The next morning, after Omega left for school, he set out and walked down to Tech and Phee’s house. The morning air was humid. It was going to be another hot one, but that was no surprise. It was always hot on Pabu. Luckily, there was a perpetual breeze that blew, offering respite and comfort.

When Hunter arrived at his destination, he knocked on the door.

“Door’s open,” Phee called.

Hunter went inside and almost tripped over a toy bantha. Phee and Tech’s twelve-month-old son toddled up to him and tugged on his pants. His full name was Hunter Racer Genoa, but everyone just called him Racer to cut the confusion. Racer had been Tech’s choice for a name.

Racer smiled up at Hunter, revealing a dimple. Hunter smiled back. He and his nephew were best friends.

“How’s my ad’ika?” Hunter asked as he lifted the baby into his arms.

“Determined not to wear his glasses,” Phee answered, coming into the room. She put a pair of goggles on Racer that were nearly identical to his father’s. Racer refused to wear them otherwise. He was having a hard time adjusting, the poor lad.

“So what can I do for you, sergeant?” Phee asked Hunter.

Hunter set Racer down and he toddled away. “I need advice.”

Phee invited him to come sit down. Hunter claimed the sofa. He watched distractedly as Racer lined up all his building blocks in a neat row, smiling because the child reminded him so much of Tech. He was deliberate and thoughtful in his actions.

“It’s Omega,” Hunter said finally, looking up. “She’s been acting . . . strange.”

“Strange,” Phee repeated. “Define that.”

“Just strange. She spends a long time in the ‘fresher fretting over her appearance. She thinks she isn’t beautiful enough, though I tell her otherwise. She snapped at me the other day just because I asked her what was wrong. Honestly, I’m at a complete loss, Phee. I don’t know what to do.”

Phee’s gaze softened. “Hunter, Omega is growing up. It’s perfectly obvious what’s going on.”

Hunter snorted. “You sound like Tech. When he thinks something is obvious, it’s usually not.”

“Omega’s behavior is obvious to me because I was her age once, too.” Phee grinned. “There’s a boy she’s sweet on.”

Hunter stared at her in surprise. “A boy?” he repeated. The idea appalled him. Omega was supposed to be his little girl and now there was a boy in her life? He didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“Yes. Don’t look so shocked. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But . . .”

Tech walked through the door that very moment. He didn’t seem to realize Hunter was there, because he sauntered right over to his wife and leaned down to give her a kiss on the lips.

“I missed you, love,” he declared.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Phee pointed out.

“All the same. Ten minutes is akin to one hundred planetary rotations when I am apart from you.”

Hunter wanted to laugh. His brother had turned into such a romantic.

Phee cleared her throat. “Baby, Hunter is here.”

“Oh.”

Tech sounded so disappointed. Hunter bit the inside of his cheek to keep his amusement from showing.

“I came for advice,” he explained. “It’s about Omega.”

“Ah. I take it you were unprepared for the turbulent moments that accompany adolescence.”

“Well, no. I guess I just assumed she’d always be my little girl. You don’t understand because your kid is still a baby. He hasn’t even said his first word yet.”

Everyone glanced over at Racer, who was carefully building a tower out of blocks.

“I’d hardly call him a baby,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles. “He’s remarkably precocious.”

Racer placed another block on his growing tower. But that was one block too many. The tower tilted to the side and collapsed, scattering the blocks around him.

“Kriff,” he said.

Phee sucked in a breath.

Tech’s face lit up in a smile. “I believe that is his first word,” he said proudly.

“Who taught him that,” Phee demanded, sounding upset.

“Don’t look at me,” Hunter said defensively, when she glanced sharply in his direction. “I don’t curse around the children.”

“Neither do I,” Tech seconded.

Phee glared at him. “Well, somebody taught him that.”

The front door slid opened and Crosshair entered the house. He tripped over the scattered blocks.

“Kriff,” he cursed.

Tech pointed. “There is your culprit, love.”

Racer, upon seeing his favorite uncle, squealed in delight and ran to Crosshair. Crosshair lifted the baby up into his arms and smiled broadly. Racer was the only one who could draw it out.

“You put my baby down!” Phee ordered.

Crosshair looked confused. “What?”

“You’re a bad influence on him.”

“Kriff,” Racer said again.

Hunter thought Phee was going to murder Crosshair right then and there. Tech just stood there with his arms crossed, looking amused by the whole situation.

Phee planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want you using that language around him, you hear?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t teach him that word,” Crosshair said defensively.

“That narrows down the list quite a bit,” Tech remarked dryly.

“He heard it from someone,” Phee said. “I intend to find out who.”

Hunter tuned them out for a moment, drawn back to his own troubles.

Omega liked a boy. That didn’t sit very well with him. She was still young and innocent, and he just couldn’t stand the thought of her growing up so fast. She might prefer that boy over him. She might not want to spend time with him anymore.

Suddenly, he felt utterly despondent.

“What’s with him?” Crosshair asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hunter said sulkily.

His keen sense of smell caught the faint whiff of burning food. He glanced over at Phee, who was fussing over Racer and telling him he shouldn’t curse, and Racer just stared up at her in adoration, looking cute enough to melt even the toughest heart.

“Uh, Phee,” Hunter said. “Are you cooking anything?”

Phee gasped. “Kriff!” She leapt up, shoved Racer into Tech’s arms, and ran into the kitchen.

Crosshair folded his arms over his chest and snorted. “And she wants to blame me for teaching the kid how to curse.”

A moment later, Phee appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I owe all of you an apology,” she said.

Hunter rose to his feet. “Don’t worry about it, Phee. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get going.”

“Where?” Crosshair asked.

“Anywhere. I need to think.”

“Good luck,” Phee said.

Hunter saluted. “Thanks.”

He left Phee and Tech’s house and simply started walking with no particular destination in mind. He just needed to sort his thoughts and make sense of everything going on with Omega.

He was well aware that she wasn’t going to need him forever. She was getting older, and was now wanting to be more independent. He just wished they’d had more time together. He liked being there for her, guiding her when she needed guidance, or simply lending an ear when she wanted to talk. In short, he enjoyed being a father.

Hunter felt no worse or no better by the time he got home later. He’d spent a good portion of time just walking. He was surprised to find that several hours had passed, and he hadn’t even been aware except for the changes in the sun.

Wrecker was sitting at the table in the dining nook, diligently oiling his gun. He liked to keep everything in working order, just in case Phee needed them for a job, which was sporadic at best.

“Where’ve you been?” Wrecker asked.

“Walking,” Hunter answered.

“Thinking about Omega, huh?”

“Yeah. She grew up on me. I don’t know how I feel about that. Phee thinks there’s a young lad in her life.”

Wrecker shrugged. “You mean Rohne.”

Hunter frowned. “You . . . know about that?” He felt bitter suddenly, knowing Omega told Wrecker everything but not him. What was he, chopped liver?

“Nice kid. He likes to go fishing.”

“Huh. I didn’t even know there was a boy until now.”

“I thought it was obvious,” Wrecker said, using Tech’s favorite expression.

Hunter scowled. “Very funny,” he said.

The front door slid open and he looked, expecting to see Omega and what’s-his-face. He planned on employing a healthy dose of intimidation to let the kid know he better watch himself, or there was going to be trouble.

But it was just Crosshair. Racer was in his arms, asleep with his head on Crosshair’s shoulder.

“The lovebirds wanted to be alone,” he said. “I offered to watch the kid.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“I know.”

Hunter regarded him. “Do you know about Rohne, too?”

Crosshair smirked. “The tall kid with the long hair? Sure I know him. Wanted to know all about my position as the squad’s marksman. I even let him see my kit.”

Hunter was beginning to feel real low right about now. So everyone knew who this Rohne kid was except for him. He didn’t like being left out like this. If his daughter was running around with a boy, he had a right to know. He had a right to meet this kid, see what kind of character he was.

“What’s with him?” Crosshair asked Wrecker.

“Oh, he’s just sore ‘cause he’s the last to know about Rohne,” Wrecker answered.

Hunter didn’t bother to respond. He sank down in a chair and heaved a heavy sigh. Just to keep his hands busy, he un-sheathed his knife and fiddled with it.

“What’s your reading on this Rohne?” he asked his two brothers.

“He’s a good lad,” Wrecker answered. “Says please and thank you. Very polite. Likes fishing.”

“You said that already. I want to know about his morals. Can he be trusted?”

“If you’re worried about this kid, don’t be,” Crosshair said. “He’s aware of what will happen to him if he puts even a single toe out of line. I made sure of it.”

Well, at least that was comforting. But that was supposed to be Hunter’s job. He was supposed to be the one to let the kid know nothing good would come to him if he hurt Omega in any way.

He didn’t despair, though. He was going to make sure he got to meet this kid. He was going to ask Omega to invite him over to dinner, then he’d see for himself if this Rohne was good enough for his daughter.

His senses prickled. He looked up at the door, knowing Omega was approaching. He sat up straighter.

The door slid open and Omega entered, followed by this tall, gangly kid with long, dark hair. He suspected this was the infamous Rohne.

“Hi everyone,” Omega greeted warmly.

“Hiya, kiddos,” Wrecker returned.

Crosshair just nodded.

Hunter stared at Rohne. Rohne stared back, unflinching and curious. Hunter was begrudgingly impressed by the kid’s audacity.

“Oh, Dad, this is Rohne,” Omega introduced, smiling shyly. “Rohne, this is my dad, Hunter.”

Rohne stuck out a hand. Hunter grasped it and they shook. The kid had a nice, strong handshake. Hunter considered that a good quality in a man.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Rohne said politely. “Omega has told me all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Hunter said, smiling.

“Good things, I promise.”

“So you like fishing, is that right?”

“Oh, yes. I enjoy it very much, sir.”

“Rohne wants to take me out in his boat later,” Omega said. “If that’s okay with you . . .”

“I’ll have her home by eight,” Rohne promised.

“Well . . .” Hunter looked at their hopeful faces, then decided it wouldn’t hurt. Rohne seemed like a nice young man. He suspected the kid would keep his word. “You’ll have her back by eight on the dot?” he said, and Rohne nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Just do one thing for me and stay for dinner. I’d like to get to know you better, son.”

“That sounds just fine, sir,” Rohne agreed. He and Omega smiled at one another.

“We’re going to go study now,” Omega told Hunter. “We’ve got a big test tomorrow.”

She hurried off to her room with Rohne close on her heels.

Hunter just stood there for a moment, thinking he’d overreacted. Omega had good judgment. If she liked Rohne, it was because he was kind and courteous, and he treated her well. That was all that mattered to Hunter.

“Don’t worry, boss,” Wrecker said suddenly. “I’ll have my eye on ‘em the whole time. That boat won’t get out of my sights.”

“I’m not worried,” Hunter said, meaning it. “We’re forgetting that each of us has taught Omega valuable combat skills. If Rohne steps out of line, I suspect she’ll handle him just fine on her own.”

“Yeah! I bet she’ll kick him right in the—“

“Shhh!” Crosshair hissed, covering Racer’s ears. “Not in front of the baby.”

“Right,” Wrecker said. “Sorry.”

Racer lifted his head from Crosshair’s shoulder and smiled. “Kriff,” he said.

“We’ve got to teach him to say something else,” Hunter decided. “Hey, kid, can you say mama?”

Racer stared at him and blinked his big, brown eyes. Hunter had a feeling the baby understood the task, he was just being very selective about participating. It had to be on his terms.

“Say mama,” Crosshair encouraged.

The front door slid open and in walked Echo, looking dour as usual.

Racer pointed a finger at him. “Mama!” he cried.

Echo startled. “What?”

Hunter sighed. “Well, at least he’s not saying kriff anymore.”

#the bad batch #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch phee #the bad batch tech #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch omega #the bad batch echo #techphee #tbb #the bad batch oc #tbb fanfiction

[idiotwithanipad]

'Alive' Robin headcanons because I can't accept the fact that he died so young🥺

GENERAL HC's

・ He looked exactly like his father... Except for his eyes, those are a spitting image of his mother's 

・ I feel like Robin would notice one of his many fleas fall off/jump off of him, then he'd have a mini panic attack, ask it if it's alright and then put it straight back in his hair/beard/furs😂

・ Saw a shooting star for the first time as an adult and cried

・When the tribe was annoyed that they were too slow to catch a stag one day, he got up onto a big rock and mocked all of them for being too slow... He got a black eye

・Preferred spending time with the women of the tribe because they weren't as bossy

・ Because of this he was probably quite a catch for the women in the tribe. Yes he was accident prone and absentminded sometimes but he had a big heart🥰

・ He was one of the tribe's tool-makers

・ He only hunted small to medium sized prey. Prehistoric humans, especially Neanderthals, we're group hunters. So if Robin were to ever catch large animals, he'd be with most of the tribe

・The furs he wears would be at least 2-3 'sizes' too big for him. Since they weren't originally his (RIP Hat) as evidenced by this here gap🫣

(don't ask me how I stumbled across this, I wasn't looking or anything. Purely research purposes👀)

DAD ROBIN

・He was most likely a teenager (13-16) when his first baby was born

・ Has had at least 2 sets of twins

・The 'firm but fair' dad❤️

・Had more girls than boys bc I said so, okay?🥺

・ Speaking of girls, if the tribe knew the names of flowers back then, you can BET he'd want to name his daughters after them. Like Lily, or Daisy, or Poppy🥹

・ Sons on the other hand, I feel like he'd wanna give them warrior names. Like 'Rock', cause 'son strong tough boy' 🥹 

・ He became the tribe's designated babysitter cause he was so good with kids

・ Tribe Member: Where all masculine men? 

       Robin inside the cave wearing a twig tiara and an assortment of flowers in his hair surrounded by all his daughters: WE HAVING PRINCESS PARTYYYY! 

・ If any of his children get cold at night and they huddle up to him for warmth, he's dropping his baggy furs around them and pulling then closer to keep them warm🥹

・Teaches newly weaned toddlers how to chew their food by demonstrating... The rest of the tribe is staring in disgust and mild despair

・Holds the kid's hands during the tribe's annual Moonah Ston ritual so that they don't trip over or get stepped on by the idiots that drank too much puddle water beforehand

・Getting proud as hell if any of his kids paints on the cave walls

・Feels a little part of himself shrivel up and die every time one of his kids needs new furs because it means their getting bigger, which means their getting older

・If any of his kids start play fighting/wrestling, he's either trying to break it up or he's the referee... There's no in between 

#bbc ghosts #robin the caveman #larry rickard

[dorayakimanjiro]

My Covenless Romance TOH Hunter x Reader HC

Golden Guard/Hunter x Guitarist! Reader

Reader is the guitarist of My Covenless Romance.

("My Covenless Romance" is basically the Boiling Isles' version of "My Chemical Romance")

A/N: This took longer than excepted lol

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

• He was on a patrol at the night market.

•Hearing commotion, he rushed to the scene to find.. a crowd of teenagers cheering and..crying? to a band playing on a stage.

• 'What's so "great" about them? Sheesh, just go to the Bard Coven if you wanna watch someone performing or whatever' he prob thought.

•"Authorities and rules are so much better" little jerk most likely thought that too.

• “My Covenless Romance” written in a poster above the stage.

•Intrigued by everyone's hype, he stayed to see what was all about, obviously ONLY and STRICTLY for " investigation purposes". (Nah bestie you aint fooling anyone)

•It'll just be 5 minutes....

•He stayed the whole concert 💀

•rip his duties.

• After the incident, he started going regularly to the night market to "patrol" since he caught sight of insights of "suspiscious witches"

• The next day, he reported catching insights of a suspicious group of witches and for that reason he would patrol the market more frequently.

• LIEESSSSS. LIL EDGY MAN WANTED TO WATCH HIS EMO GROUP PERFORM JSLSIAHAKSHWNAK

• A FANBOY, has MCR shirts, albums and a few posters.

•Kikimora is TIRED of him.

•Belos is too focus on himself to even notice his nephew's new found interest/ maybe hobby??

• Plays their music on his crystal ball and sings his heart out on his room. (obviously with a nullifying sound spell around the room)

•Tried learning a few songs with his guitar. (I have a HC Hunter knows how to play guitar ok?)

• The more he listened to their music, the more he wanted to learn about the band's members.

• Researched on fansites for information about the members such as their name, their positions or roles in the band and the most important one, at least to him, which coven were they part of; and if it wasn't obvious, everyone was from the bard coven. (BARD COVEN SUPREMACY)

• As he passed through all the information, there was only one member left to check.

• Surveying through your information, you were the guitarist, "(Y/N) (L/N) is the youngest of the group with the age of 16, despite their young age, they managed to enter the bard coven without complications, which makes them a really talented witch", if he wasn't interested enough before, OH BOY, NOW HE WAS.

•He likes electric guitars, you play one pretty good, yeah new simp for you.

• Aside from being the guitarist, you were also the lead singer, so sometimes you helped the main vocalist on the chorus, or you had solo parts.

•He loves your singing and watching you perform live makes his days better.

• If by any chance you changed some notes and did a musical arrangement that wasn't part of the original song, or did a random freestyle, he would get goosebumps by how great it sounded. *chef kiss*

• You really captived this boy's heart :,,,) ❤️

•When MCR annouced they were doing a fan-sign, believe me when I say he RUSHED, as if Belos asked him to do it, to bought a ticket for the event.

(If you don't know what a fan-sign, then SEARCH IT UP, YOU LAZY! JK, a fan-sign its an autograph signing album event, used in K-pop; you interact with your fav idols personally, like asking them question, talking or holding hands with them, etc)

•Baby boy was really nervous to meet you, was excited and jumping out of happiness but also felt ill and restless. Just the thought of you knowing his existence was enough to send him to cloud nine.

•Blondie was slaying the “My Covenless Romance” shirt.

•Thank titan he put on his gloves today because his hands were SWEATY.

• On missions and at the coven, he was a professional at dealing with anxiousness and emotions in general; but! this is YOU who we're talking about, the (Y/N) (L/N).

• An internal mess. 🙃

• None of the training, he worked his entire life with, prepared him for such moment.

*At the day of the fan-sign*

• 30 minutes had passed and Hunter was waiting anxiously on the line. (Dude arrived very early. Told kiki to do his shift hshshshs)

• 10 minutes later, it was finally his turn!

• Approching the table, he kneeled to be eye-leveled with the first band member and talk comfortly with them.

• He had a great time chatting with each member; they answered his questions, signed his photo album, some even complimented his stunning mangenta eyes!

• Got flustered by the compliments.

• Other members were playful with him, making him play silly things like rock, papers and scissors or just patted his fluffy hair (with Hunter's permission, of course).

• You were sitted at the last end of the table, making you the last member to interact with (the best for last bestie 💅).

• The nearer he approached, the greater his nerves.

• 'Just one more member left and its my turn with (Y/N), please, don't mess things up Hunter' he thought.

•Would steal glances your way when talking to the member infront of him, he didn't meant to be rude, but you were so gorgeous up close.

(BE PREPARED FOR YOUR COLLEAGUE TO TEASE THE HELL OUT OF YOU FOR THE BOY'S ADORABLE BEHAVIOR, HECK YEAH THEY NOTICED.)

• (Y/N) waved farewell to the fan before them and patiently waited for their turn with the blonde boy that was chattering with their colleague.

• Soon enough, they sliced Hunter's album to (Y/N)'s way, meaning it was finally their turn.

• THE MOST ANTICIPATED MOMENT, HE WAS SCREAMING INTERNALLY.

• 'OH TITAN OH TITAN OH TITAN *screams in grimwalker*'

• His cheeks and ears turning pink, pulse increasing.

• “Hey buddy! What's your name?” you smiled.

• Goldy almost passed out because of that smile.

• “H-Hunter” he stuttered 'FUCK' he mentally cursed.

• "Hunter, nice name!" you said.

•His name rolling out of your mouth has to be the best thing that has ever happened in his life.

•"Thank you" he said, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

•“So tell me Hunter, did the other members teased you out much?” You asked while signing his album. Him staring wide-eyed.

• "Uh, I saw how much they teased you and got flustered by their comments, *sigh* Ah these guys, I'm gonna punish them after this" you said in a friendly way, an adorable pout adorning your lips as you finished your statement.

• YOU WERE WATCHING HIM THIS WHOLE TIME AND WAS WILLING TO DEFEND HIM FROM THE OLDER MEMBERS??!?!!?? ...yep, this gotta be a dream, no way its real, too good to be true.

• "No, no, no! Its okay, seriously, it wasn't THAT type of teasing, but thanks for your concern" he shifted his fingers under the table.

• "Hmmmm still gonna punish them though" both chuckled.

• You looked way more softer than what you looked on stage being all badass and hot af with your guitar with a face that shouted you could dominate the world if you pleased, but what he had in front of him was just a charming, lovable young witch. UwU moment

•"Say, I gotta admit your scar its pretty cool" you said pointing your finger to your left cheek, to mimic the side where the boy's scar rested.

• Reaching out his hand to touch it, his face reddened. A tiny "thank you" leaving his mouth, showing a small smile.

•Not wanting to trigger a possible bad memory (which was lol) to the ash-blonde-haired boy, the young guitarist didn't push more into the topic, despite being curious on how he got that.

• "I was wondering, if you weren't in the bard coven, what other coven do you think you would've joined instead?" Hunter asked.

• "I'm glad you ask, no one had really made me that question, interesting, yet I do have an answer, quite an odd one to be honest" you said.

•"I probably don't look like the type, however, I would've liked joining the Emperor's Coven, seeing witches like the Golden Guard fighting and being all mighty makes me kinda jealous sometimes; I've never talked to him but he seem quite an appealing guy " (Y/n) sheepishly answered.

• Hunter.exe has stopped working.

• "Wow.. that's really shocking" forgive him for replying lamely, his poor brain was melting y your answer.

•" Hahaha, I know right?! Are you interested in a particular coven or are you already in one?" you asked.

• "ME? Of course not! I'm still checking out and making up my mind" he replied. No way he was gonna tell you he was the Golden Guard, not yet...

•" Well, if by any chance you choose Bard, we'll be waiting for ya" you winked.

• Thank titan he was already on his knees because his legs gave up.

•"Then, what got you into MCR, Hunter?" you asked

•"Definitely by the band's music, your albums and singles are amazing! OH! And your guitar's solos? ARE mind-blowing and you look so breath-taking while playing. I gotta admit, after a while I just listened to MCR albums only because of you-" he blurted out.

•'Oh shit....' both hands flew to his mouth.

• (Y/n)'s cheeks turned red.

• "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize unt-" he said agitatedly.

•”Hey- Hey! It's okay! I really appreciate your support, I..I like it" you shyly confess.

•The manager behind you made a signal meaning time had run out.

•”Aww dang it! Time ran out, it was nice meeting you Hunter” you offered him both your hands.

•“Likewise (Y/n)” he said taking both of your hands.

• Interwining your fingers with his, earning a gasp from the magenta-eyed boy, his face and ears becoming as red as a tomato.

•'So adorable! just as I expected' you thought.

•“Let's see each other at the next fan-sign!” you said while wiggling your hands with his.

•"Yeah! Sure!" he exclaimed, letting go his hands, you gave him his album and bid farewell to each other.

• He couldn’t sleep that night, he still felt your hands grabbing his.

• A blushing mess.

• He couldn’t wait for the next concert and fan-meeting. 🥰

Bonus:

• After the fan-sign, the band's members were all over (Y/n) asking them questions about the charming blond boy. (Yep, they watched the whole thing)

• Teasing (Y/n) to no end saying the blondie would be their future partner. (Y/n) secretly didn’t mind. 😳

• Everyone received a well deserved punishment from (Y/n) .☺️

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

#it’s 2am #finally finished it #My covenless romance #toh my covenless romance #toh mcr #the owl house #toh #toh hunter #toh the golden guard #toh golden guard x reader #toh hunter x reader #the owl house x reader #the owl house headcanon #the owl house imagine #the owl house golden guard x reader #the owl house gg #the owl house hunter x reader #hunter the owl house

[kaminocasey]

Hey!

Hope all is well! I was wondering if you could do prompt 13 with Wrecker?

Congrats on 700 followers!!

Thanks! ❤️🖤

Thank youuuu!!!! And thank you for letting me take a little "creative freedom" with this one!!! <3 <3 <3

(Was given permission to add a bit of Polybatch)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Sexual situations, Jealousy, douchebag regs lol, Polybatch (no clonecest ofc)

TAGLIST FORM

The loud music of 79s blares loudly with people dancing down on the dancefloor. You and the Batch sit in a booth, looking over the dancefloor and you can’t help but watch everyone. Wrecker promised earlier that he’d go dance with you in a bit, which you’re really looking forward to as you’re tucked into his side, currently.

“Do you want another drink?” Crosshair leans in and asks you.

You nod with a ‘thank you’ and he winks as he gets up to go order you a drink down at the bar. Your stomach rumbles slightly and you realize you should’ve brought something to eat as well. 

With a smirk, Hunter hands you a bag of snack mix that he brings so you don’t get too drunk, too fast. 

“Maker, I love you.” You reach across the table and kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

“Our little lightweight.” Echo teases you with a grin.

You roll your eyes, amused. “Har har.”

“I think it’s cute when you get drunk, because then I get to carry ya back to the Marauder.” Wrecker kisses you on the head.

“See, Wrecker appreciates my lightweightedness.” You shrug with a laugh.

“Sometimes, your best ideas are when you’re drunk, darling.” Tech teases you next. 

You stick your tongue out at them childishly as Tech and Echo laugh. When Crosshair comes back with your drink, he sits in his spot next to you and places a hand on your thigh, teasing the edge of your dress. Your men really do take care of you.

All of a sudden, a few regs start walking by, stopping when they realize who’s sitting in your booth. Great… This can only end well.

“Look fellas, it’s the Sad Batch.” One of the regs laughs. 

“How original.” Tech rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath.

“Can’t believe they actually let you out of the lab back on Kamino.” The second one laughs.

Crosshair starts to stand up out of the booth but you pull him back down, holding onto him by the arm. 

“They’re not worth it.” You murmur to him.

Crosshair looks at you with a slight nod and remains seated. It wouldn’t be the first or last time you’ve had to stop Crosshair from starting a fight with a reg. There’s been a fair share where you’ve not been able to stop him.

“Hey baby, why’re you rollin’ with them when you could be with the real deal?” The third one smirks at you.

Wrecker’s fists clench and Tech starts to stop him but you speak up. “The real deal? As far as I’m concerned you guys are just plain and small compared to my guys here. Keep walking.” 

“We could take you for a better ride-” The first one starts to speak up but Wrecker pulls you into his lap, holding you against him. 

“She’s already got a ride. A bigger one.” Wrecker’s voice carries slightly and a few others look your way.

The rest of the Batch smirk as the regs start to walk away, with their tails between their legs. 

“A bigger ride indeed.” You agree with Wrecker, smirking as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

He kisses you softly and squeezes your ass, causing your warmth to brush up against his hardening length. Arousal starts to flood your veins as you let out a soft gasp.

“Fuck…” You whimper with a breathless chuckle. “I think I’d like to see you jealous more often.”

Wrecker leans in closer to your ear. “I wasn’t jealous… just protecting what’s ours.”

A chill goes down your spine and you look around at the men sitting with you, all of their gazes filled with lust and love. You know right then that you don’t have a desire to dance anymore, you just need them. 

“I uh… think we need to get out of here right now.” You cough slightly with a smirk.

“You heard her, boys.” Hunter is the first to stand but Wrecker kisses you again before letting you go and you can’t help but tease him, grinding against him once more before crawling out of the booth.

“You’re in for it when we get back to the ship, for that.” Wrecker murmurs in your ear, cupping your ass under your dress and not letting go until you get back to the Marauder. 

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @grievouus @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @crosshairmylove587 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @dnxgma @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaws @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho

#kc700 #polybatch x reader #tbb polybatch #tbb polybatch x you #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker

[lokigirlszendaya]

Bad Batch Episode 14 Spoilers

HOWZER!!!! My baby 😭

ECHO BABY!!!!

WAS THAT GREGOR AS WELL?!!!

SENATOR CHU-CHI!!!! My girl ❤️

GET YOUR DIRTY IMPERIAL HANDS OFF OF HIM RIGHT NOW!!!!

Techs face when omega flys is hilarious and the echo hug omg

Cross warning the boy sent me crying! Thought he was gonna khs 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Tech and Wrecker immediately saying Cross turned on the Empire warms my heart and with Hunter advocating it’s a trap, yes smart but don’t be like that!

This episode was good to see because we got to see what echo was doing away from the batch and We didn’t see Rex! Big sad.

#bad batch season 2 #crosshair tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch #crosshair #tbb season 2 #the bad batch spoilers

[therenlover]

✨TheRenLovers (Updated) Fanfic Glossary✨

Updated 9/7/23

A glossary of my past works and ongoing projects. Also comes with a handy dandy list for request guidelines! I mostly post x Reader fics, but I'm looking to branch out into established ships soon. To join my fresh, new taglist for any character, just shoot me a message. I also crosspost all my works to my Ao3, which you can find Here!.

This post is a beefy boy, so for the sake of your dash the rest is below the cut.

Red = Abandoned Project (I may eventually complete these, but I have no current plans to)

A Note About Requests

As long as my ask box is open, I am taking requests or questions! I can't promise every request will be completed, or that the ones that are requested will be finished in a timely manner. I'm an adult with a full time job, so sometimes writing takes a backseat. That being said, I will do my best to complete any requests that come my way, so feel free to ask if you're hoping to see something! The worst I could do is direct you to someone who might be able to make what you're looking for.

I am pretty open about what I write, but if a request makes me uncomfortable/isn't something I'm interested in writing, I, again, will try my best to reach out and guide you in the right direction to get that type of content. If you're worried your message got buried/forgotten, don't hesitate to message again. My brain is soup and I can be the worst person on earth at responding.

⚔️Baldur's Gate 3⚔️

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again)

Synopsis: When Tav sold her soul to Raphael for Astarion's, she only hoped it would be worth the price. If only she remembered anything from before she entered the House of Hope...

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 40,000~ (Ongoing)

❤️Marvel❤️

Helmut Zemo 💜

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: M (+16)

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches and Airy Sighs

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask.

Rating: M (+16)

Word Count: 10,200~

Balm

Synopsis: Your forbidden dalliance with Baron Zemo, the lord of the house, has finally landed you in the dungeons, subject to the whims of the guards and the endless passage of time. As your sanity slips away, you wonder what will come first, your execution or the Baron's return?

Rating: M (+18)

Word Count: 5,800~

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start)

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Rating: E (+18)

Word Count: 8,600~

🖤American Horror Story🖤

James Patrick March 🔪

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: M (16+)

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 5500~

Jimmy Darling 🦞

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: M (16+)

Word Count: 3000~

#jac rambles #fanfiction

[crocuta-corvax]

THE MASTERLIST (DUN DUN DUNNNN)

I figured I've made enough stuff now to warrant a master list of my stuffffff- (haha help me what have I gotten myself into)

Some of my art and fics are 18+, so minors, please please please DO NOT INTERACT

✨ Art ✨ Hunter - Hunting For That Bussy - (18+) Crosshair - Subby Crosshair?? - (18+) - Petulant Tech - It's Tech'o'clock - (18+) Wrecker - Wrecker IS the Chair - (18+) - Lovey Dovey Face - Good Soldiers Stay Hydrated Echo - (Next on my to-do list hehehe) Soma Squad (OC) The Squad - Soma Squad Idents - Introducing the Team! - Ruby and Rounds are Fizz's top two pains in his butt Sgt. Krayt - Sergeant Krayt's Armour - Sergeant Krayt loves the squat pose Cpl. Ruby - Introducing my freckled baby boy ❤️

Scomp -

Rounds - Rounds is baby - Rounds' Armour

Fizz -

Tooka - Tooka sleeps weird

Aiwha -

Soma - Just Goofums - Smug Loth-Cat - My Personal Lightsabre Pike Design :> Crovax Reactions - Nolan Is Gross

✨ Fanfics ✨ Hunter - Shopping? Shopping (Part 1) - Isekai (Fluff) Crosshair - Sub Crosshair? Sensory Deprivation?? - (18+) - You Can't Tell Them About Order 66...right? - Isekai - Got Mint? (Part 1) - Isekai (Steamy but not exactly 18+) Tech - (got some in the works bby yisss) Wrecker - Imma Wot?? - Isekai (Fluff) Echo - What The Scomp?? - Isekai (Fluff)

Isekai Bullkark (no pairings, just drabbles) - There Aint No Toilets In Space

[sentincl]

 —  look over there,  that’s adam steele,  an a rank tanker  from knights of rose.  i heard they’re pretty reckless,  but people are saying they’re also charming.  they’re thirty and apparently never seen without their halberd + heavy plate shield. they do have to be careful due to being way too eager to be in battle and not knowing when he's taken enough damage. they sometimes remind me of a laugh that thunders across the room, warm morning sunshine caressing long eyelashes and freckled cheeks, cannonball in the middle of a pool, calloused fingers drumming on tables, a welcome wink with a soothing smile in the midst of chaos .

hello and welcome to my comfort sunshine himbo muse Adam! my intention with this character is to give full on honor and glory i'll be your shield hammer down reinhardt from overwatch, braum from league, karlach from baldur's gate 3 vibes dbsfkbsdkf check out his character sheet?? lmao

Basic Information

Full Name: adam steele

Age: 30

Gender: demi man

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: pansexual

Rank: a

Class: tanker

Guild: knights of rose

Language(s) Spoken: english

Accent: southern

Physical Appearance

Hair Colour: brown

Eye Colour: brown

Height: 5'11

Usual Expression: a very wholesome, kind smile

Piercings: one in his left ear

Tattoos: one rose on his left tiddie KNIGHTS OF ROSE LET'S GOOOO MESS WITH THE ROSE YOU GET THE THORNS BABY

Health

Physical Ailments: n/a

Mental Illnesses: ADHD

Emotional Stability: 7/10

Sociability: oh he is Out there. He's easy to befriend, he's gonna treat you like one even if that isn't the case

Body Temperature: he's a warm boy

Personality

Positive Traits: confident, courageous, honest, loyal

Negative Traits: gullible, impulsive, reckless

Myers-Briggs personality type: ESFP

Headcanons

He takes the support role to a whole other level If you're on his team he'll bring you up, tell you you're the best at what you do, and if you falter in your spirits even for a second he is there to pick you back up!!

But if you're mean to him or his friends he'll beat u to a pulp ❤️

He's rarely Actually angry tho, it's only bullies that piss him off, and only if it's like, super obvious. Otherwise he sort of thinks everyone is his friend and that is why he has a lot of one sided beef where other ppl can't stand him while he just :3 has flowers and sparkles floating above his head

If you looked behind those eyes you would see No Thoughts. Only wii music.

He's a really good tanker he just always focuses on getting everyone out of harm's way and not really thinking of himself? So he's had a couple of very close calls.

TW DEATH just to add some trauma, his parents were both super famous s rank hunters in knights of rose (yes he is a nepo baby), they both died a gruesome death in battle and he witnessed it :) he doesn't ever talk about it unless someone like... specifically asks about it, but even then he won't elaborate. the interactions usually go like "Wait, you're THEIR son??? Didn't they-- oh..." >:)

oof I'm gonna add more later

#becameintro #tw: death

[pedropascalsx]

Cristina, my beloved, I absolutely NEED to know what Taylor Swift songs you associate with each Pedro boy. It would delight me very much. You are a literal ray of sunshine, and I adore you. 🥰🥰🥰

Hello, my sweetness. I am so excited you sent me this, because I have thought about this a lot. Posting under a cut - because it’s a long list ❤️

Warning: this is part one of two… and this part is angsty. This is songs that aren’t happy in nature and might be a little upsetting for some to view.

Especially the Frankie and Agent Whiskey songs - So please don’t look if you feel you may get triggered.

The thread tomorrow will be a lot more cheerful I promise!

Javier Peña - Cowboy Like Me.

“And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up.”

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales - This Is Me Trying.

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting. I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that.”

Dieter Bravo - Nothing New

“Lord, what will become of me, once i’ve lost my novelty? I’ve had too much to drink tonight. And I know it’s sad, but this what I think about and I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s like I can feel time moving.”

DIN DJARIN - EPIPHANY

“Keep your helmet, keep your life, son. Just a flesh wound, here’s your rifle.”

MARCUS PIKE - THE ARCHER

“Help me hold onto you. I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey. Screaming who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?”

DAVE YORK - DRESS

“Flashback when you met me, your buzz cut and my hair bleached, even in my worst times, you could see the best in me. Flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes, even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me.”

EZRA - THE LAKES

“Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? I’m not cut out for all these cynical clones, these hunters with cell phones. Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong, and my beloved neither do you.”

AGENT WHISKEY / JACK DANIELS - MARJORIE

“And if i didn’t know better, I’d think you were listening to me now. If i didn’t know better… I���d think you were still around. What died didn’t stay dead, what died didn’t stay dead, you’re alive, you’re alive in my head.”

JOEL MILLER - EXILE

“I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending. You’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? You were my town and now i’m in exile, seeing you out. I think i’ve seen this film before.”

OBERYN MARTELL - ILLICIT AFFAIRS

“And you wanna scream, don't call me kid, don't call me baby. look at this godforsaken mess that you made me! you showed me colours, you know I can't see with anyone else. don't call me kid, don't call me baby. look at this idiotic fool that you made me, you taught me a secret language, I can't speak with anyone else.”

#Pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena #javi pena #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #dieter bravo #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #din #marcus pike #dave york #ezra #ezra prospect #agent whiskey #jack daniels #agent whiskey jack daniels #joel miller #joel tlou #oberyn martell #PPTS #Taylor Swift #++