#I kept recounting because surely I was wrong--
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Tally
Muses with the most votes: (a lot had 4 (Soon-hee, Kareena, Kaisei, and more) so I made that the cut off. Just about all get an automatic +1 from Iomhar being down to sleep with them)
Iomhar: 6
Mhoirbheinn: 5
Muse with the most names on their list, minus Iomhar and Ven:
Ruaidhri: 25
Eilidh came second with 13.
Muses with the least names on their lists:
Zhaohui and Zhifeng: 3
#{Dash Games#what the heck? Why did Mhoirbheinn end up on the leaderboard?#I kept recounting because surely I was wrong--#considering Huaxiu's maybe but then Iomhar's +1 yeah it's like 5
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strangers by nature | vi
Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.6K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, attacks on animals, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of mental health, only half proofread, use of crude language
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a/n: it hurt me to write this chapter 😭
You weren’t particularly close to your father. His life revolved around his work—the family business he hadn’t wanted but had accepted out of obligation when your uncles, San and Jongho’s fathers, stepped aside, unwilling to subject their sons to the challenges of running a conglomerate.
Sometimes you wished he had done the same too.
He was often away, traveling to meet clients or locked in endless board meetings. He wasn’t the type of man to swoop in with comforting words or a warm embrace. Instead, he listened without interrupting, nodded without judgment, and spoke only when he felt it was necessary. Despite the distance between you, his steady presence had a way of making you feel oddly secure.
And maybe that was why, as you paced the length of your penthouse, you found yourself dialing his number. Mingi followed your every move, his small body glued to your side. He kept glancing up at you, occasionally tripping you with how close he was.
“Come on, pick up, pick up…” You muttered to yourself. Your pacing carried you in a loop—through the kitchen, into the dining room you barely used, and then into the living room. Then, you wandered back into the kitchen, your footsteps quickening with every unanswered ring.
“Y/N?”
Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you stopped pacing, planting yourself in the middle of the kitchen as Mingi bumped up against your ankles.
“Dad!”
“Is everything alright?”
You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the phone. How were you supposed to explain everything that had transpired the last few weeks without sounding unhinged?
What were you even supposed to say? Hi, Dad. Quick question: Are you sure the woman you’re married to is actually my mother?
Your parents’ marriage had always seemed like a curious thing to you. It was a product of an arrangement. Yet, over the years, your father’s quiet gestures of affection seemed to keep your mother content, even happy.
Surely, he couldn’t have had an affair.
The idea felt absurd, but then again, you’d always felt like a stranger in your own home, an outsider looking in at a family that didn’t quite seem to know where you fit.
“I-I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to call mom because…you know how she gets.”
Your mother had a flair for theatrics, a tendency to turn even the smallest inconvenience into a grand production. If you’d called her instead, the situation would have escalated before you even finished explaining.
“What’s going on?”
“I…” You faltered for a moment, running a hand through your hair before continuing your train of thought.
“There’s this woman who I think has been stalking me. A friend of mine was dogsitting Maro when she approached him at the park.” Your voice dropped slightly, recounting your conversation with Yeosang.
“She recognized Maro…and referred to me as her daughter.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you took a moment to crouch down and stroke Mingi’s fur as he leaned into your side.
“I don’t know who she is,” you admitted softly. “But…something about her felt wrong. And it’s been bothering me ever since.”
“Did she hurt you or Maro?”
“No, but she tried to abduct a little girl a few weeks ago. We stopped her and she fled.”
“Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, his tone suddenly firm.
You froze mid-step, his words rooting you in place. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, your voice small.
“I need you to stay put,” he continued. “Don’t do anything or go anywhere, especially not alone. I’m going to call the lawyers and have them review the court order and police files.”
“Court order?” you repeated, confusion rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Call either San or Jongho,” he said instead, his tone softening just enough to sound like a plea.
“Let them know I’ve asked one of them to stay with you until we sort this out.”
“Dad, what court order?” you pressed, gripping the phone tighter as your heart raced.
Mingi, sensing your distress, pawed at you insistently, his soft whines urging you to sit down. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your focus away from the ominous edge in your father’s voice.
“There was an incident when you were three. If she is who I think she is, she’s someone we dealt with a long time ago.”
“Who?”
“Your former nanny,” he admitted, his voice steady but grim. “She tried to take you,” he said bluntly.
“At first, she seemed fine. Kind, attentive, everything you’d want for a child. But things started escalating. Your mother noticed something was off right after she lost her own daughter in an accident. She’d grown too attached to you. Too possessive. We let her go, but before we could take any legal action, she attempted to abduct you.”
“She tried to kidnap me?”
“She managed to evade security at first. It was like any other day. But by the time we realized what was happening, she was already on her way to the airport with you.”
The room spun, and before you realized it, you had sunk to the floor. The color drained from your face as the weight of the revelation hit you. Mingi froze, his small body going still as he struggled to process the gravity of what he was hearing.
He let out a soft whine, curling closer to you. He hadn’t fully understood your fears, the reasons behind your walls, the way panic sometimes overtook you without warning.
Now, as a dog, powerless to do anything but sit beside you, the weight of guilt felt almost unbearable.
“We caught her in time,” he continued quickly, his tone shifting, as if trying to calm you.
“She didn’t make it far. Security intercepted her at the gate just as she was preparing to board a flight. We filed charges immediately and she was arrested.”
“But?” you scoffed. “Your money and influence couldn’t keep her behind bars?”
“We didn’t think she’d ever get out, Y/N. The charges were serious, and the evidence was solid. At the time, we were assured she’d be locked away for decades.” He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice waver.
“You were so young. We didn’t want to burden you with something you wouldn’t even remember. We thought we could protect you from it all.”
“So much for power,” you muttered bitterly, rubbing your temples. “She seems to be escalating. She’s openly trying to kidnap children now. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”
Your father’s sigh was heavy. “Which is why you’re not to go anywhere alone, Y/N. Not until this is resolved.”
“Dad—”
“I’ll be increasing the security presence around the penthouse as well. And before you ask, yes, I'll be coordinating with Mingi’s family to ensure their resources are aligned with ours.”
The mention of your in-laws made your stomach twist. They were probably unaware of the situation, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. You could already imagine your mother-in-law spinning the story to her social circle about her damsel of a daughter-in-law and how her poor son was unable to save her. The thought of being the centerpiece of their gossip left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“Make sure there’s a secure presence at the hospital too,” you said, cutting in before the conversation could linger on your in-laws.
“She might try something there.”
Your father arched a brow. He knew you didn’t particularly like being married to Mingi—he wasn’t blind to the strain in your relationship. Truthfully, he regretted agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. He’d witnessed firsthand the coldness with which Mingi had treated you, most notably the way he’d rebuffed your birthday gathering that first year of marriage. It had been a bitter reminder that not all alliances were worth the price they came with.
But upon hearing your request, it made him realize that you had always been kinder, and more compassionate than those around him. While he had always seemed distant, caught up in his own world of business and power, moments like these reminded him that you had grown into someone he was proud of. Someone who cared, even for those who didn’t deserve it.
“Is there anything else that you need?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “But I’m not going to live in fear forever. She doesn’t get to have that power over me.”
“I don’t expect you to. I just want you to be safe.”
The line disconnected and you set the phone down, your hand lingering on it for a moment before turning back to Mingi. You felt a surge of emotions–anger, frustration, fear, and a flicker of determination.
But when you saw him sitting patiently on the floor, watching you intently with his big eyes, fluffy ears, and wrinkled nose, everything inside you softened. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in that moment, and your heart ached with affection.
“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it,” you squealed, the intensity of your emotions spilling out in a completely unexpected way.
Without thinking, you scooped him into your arms, pressing your face against his soft fur as you swayed back and forth with him. Mingi melted into your embrace, his small body going limp as he relished your warmth.
“I just want to squish you!” you exclaimed, giggling as you kissed him between the ears.
Mingi let out a soft, rumbling growl, not out of annoyance but because he didn’t know how else to respond to the flood of emotions washing over him. If only you knew how deeply he wanted to protect you, not just as a dog, but as the man who had failed to see your worth for far too long.
“I should probably text the group chat,” you murmured, reaching for your phone while balancing Mingi securely in your other arm.
[Y/N]: My dad said I can have a sleepover
[Grumpy Bear]: fuck yeah
[Mountain Mayne]: Can Kira come too?”
[Y/N]: Only Kira, you stay home
⋆
Mingi found himself scowling, scooped up in San’s arms, as the four of you lounged in your living room, covered in mountains of blankets, pillows, and snacks. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this situation, but he was definitely not thrilled when your cousins and San’s fiancée came crashing into the penthouse after you summoned them with a single text.
“Why isn’t the dog distribution system working for us?” San asked, holding Mingi out toward Kira like he was some kind of offering. Mingi shot him a glare, but the effect was somewhat lost given his tiny size and the way his fur poofed up around his face.
“Because we already have three cats at home,” she replied, chomping on a piece of cheese without looking up from her phone. San sighed dramatically, pulling Mingi back to cradle him like a baby.
“Don’t worry, Maro, I'll save you from your owner and her evil husband.”
Mingi bristled, his fur puffing out even more. He barked indignantly, but it only made San laugh as he nuzzled Mingi’s fluffy face.
“Yeah, if the evil husband ever wakes up,” Jongho snorted from under his fortress of blankets.
The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Howl’s Moving Castle playing in the background. Mingi froze, his small body tensing in San’s arms. His ears flattened against his head as Jongho’s words echoed in his mind.
Sure, he hadn’t been a perfect husband. He wasn’t even sure he’d been a good one. But…evil?
“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” you replied, albeit with an edge to your tone.
“What?” Jongho raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness.
“It was a joke. I mean, come on, the guy cheated, publicly humiliated you… you can do so much better, Y/N.”
“I know a good divorce lawyer,” Kira added, waving her phone as if the solution to your problems was just a call away.
The truth of their words clawed at Mingi, a painful reminder of everything he’d done wrong. He wanted to bark, to growl, to defend himself, but what could he even say? That they were wrong? They weren’t. Not completely.
You inhaled sharply, your lips pressing into a thin line as you plopped down next to San. He glanced at you, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on the small dog curled stiffly in his arms.
“I get it,” you said finally, your voice clipped as you reached out and gently plucked Maro out of your cousin’s arms. He went still in your hold, his small body tensing as he waited for what you’d say next.
“Mingi has his own problems, but right now, he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. I don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, but it’s not fair to say things like that when he’s not here.” You cradled him closer, your touch instinctively protective as if shielding him from their judgement.
Jongho exhaled loudly, his earlier confidence deflating as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets. “Fair point,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That was out of line.”
Mingi stayed silent, nestled in your arms, his mind racing. You could have left him at the hospital. You could have walked away, started over. Hell, maybe you should have. You could have even entertained the thought of dating Seonghwa, or Yeosang, or anyone else. Anyone but him.
But you hadn’t.
You spent countless nights in that hospital room, talking to him, even when he couldn’t say anything back. You stood up for him, even now, when he didn’t deserve it.
Mingi could picture it so clearly: someone else making you laugh, someone else holding your hand, someone else seeing the best parts of you.
Maybe they were right, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really could do better.
But even if that was true, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not when there was still a sliver of hope that he might wake up, make amends, and find a way back to being the man you once believed he could be.
“Well, I’m going to bed,” you announced, rising to your feet with an exaggerated stretch. “It’s way past bedtime.”
“I’ll stay here,” San declared. “In case your stalker tries anything.”
“Good for you, honey,” Kira patted his shoulder. “But I’m going into one of the guest rooms because that’s what sane people do.”
“You’ve got this covered,” Jongho muttered sleepily, dragging himself out of the blanket pile. He stretched with a loud yawn and shuffled toward his room without even waiting for a reply.
“We’re supposed to be in this together,” San grumbled, throwing a pillow halfheartedly at Jongho’s retreating figure. It missed by a wide margin, flopping harmlessly to the floor.
As you slipped into your room, the shift was immediate. The air turned quiet and soft, a reprieve from the playful chaos outside. You closed the door gently and set Mingi down on the bed, his fluffy body sinking into the plush comforter.
He sat perfectly still, watching you move around the room. You pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and fluffed the pillows before finally settling in.
Patting the space beside you, you called softly, “Time for bed.”
He padded over, his small paws making barely a sound as he climbed onto the blankets and curled up near your side. When he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, you giggled.
“I love you. Night night, puppy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
As you drifted off to sleep, Mingi stayed awake, tracing the gentle slope of your nose to the soft curve of your lips. It all seemed so fleeting, like everything could slip away in the blink of an eye.
He sighed softly, rolling onto his back and then to his side again, unable to find a comfortable position. San’s snores rumbled faintly through the door, a reminder of the others nearby. But Mingi’s mind was too restless to relax.
His mind drifted to his last task: What did it mean to offer you happiness without expecting anything in return?
Isn’t it about giving you what you wanted? Protecting you, making you laugh, or ensuring you were never alone? But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.
How could he possibly give you that when so much of his past had been spent hurting you?
He remembered the times he’d chosen his own pride over your feelings, the cruel words he couldn’t take back, the moments he’d walked away when you needed him most. He had made you feel small, like you were the one who didn’t belong, the one who wasn’t good enough for him, all while he continued living his life while you were left to pick up the pieces of your own.
“You’re home all the time, don’t you have any friends?”
Your response had been blunt, cold, almost dismissive.
“No, they’re dead.”
That was all you said to him. No explanation, just a heavy finality that left him speechless. He didn’t know what it meant then, but now, looking back, it felt like a confession, a glimpse into a part of you that was buried beneath the walls you’d built to protect yourself after losing Hongjoong.
Kim Hongjoong, the ghost of a man who had never left your heart. The man who had held a place there long before Mingi had even existed in your life. And in that moment, jealousy crept in. It was sharp, bitter, the thought of losing you to a ghost threatening to consume him.
He hated that Hongjoong would always carry that piece of your heart he couldn’t touch, a piece that belonged to someone who had once been your everything. Because in this moment, Mingi, more than anything, coveted that place in your heart.
No matter how much he tried to remind himself that he was here, that he was now, it didn’t quell the sense of inadequacy growing within him. He couldn’t love you with the expectation of erasing your past or taking what wasn’t his to have.
If he was to prove himself, to earn his humanity, it couldn’t be about him. It had to come from a place of selflessness. He had to love you for who you were, even if it meant living in the shadow of a ghost. Even if it meant never being able to fully claim a place in your heart.
Even if it might mean accepting that some parts of you could never belong to him, no matter how much he wanted them to. And as painful as that truth was, Mingi knew it was the only way forward.
He nestled into your side, his fluffy form fitting snugly against you as he placed a paw against your nose. The steady rise and fall of your chest soothed him, reminding him that he was yours, even if it was only as Maro.
“I’m so bored,” you groaned, hanging your head over the back of the couch dramatically. The ceiling wasn’t particularly interesting, but you were so desperate for stimulation that you started counting the corners of the crown molding.
Kira glanced over from the kitchen, her brow furrowing in concentration as she whisked a bowl of batter with a bit too much vigor.
“You should try being useful. Come help me bake.”
“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” you muttered, sliding further down the couch until you were almost horizontal. “I’ve seen every corner of this penthouse.”
“Drama queen,” she said lightly. “You’re safe here. That’s what matters. And besides, I thought you’d enjoy the time off.”
“Time off from what?”
“I don’t know? The hospital? The back and forth must be draining.”
You hummed in response, though that was all you could muster. Draining wasn’t quite the word for it. It was true the days spent at the hospital had a way of blurring together, but you didn’t mind staying there. In some strange way, it felt right.
At the hospital, you had a routine. You’d arrive in the evening, lay on the sofa and stare out into nothingness. Sometimes you’d read, talk to him about trivial things, or just sit quietly, the hum of the monitors filling the silence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to show him that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t respond.
Because deep down, you knew he needed someone on his side.
It wasn’t easy to admit, even to yourself, but a part of you still held out hope for reconciliation. Not the fairytale kind, where everything magically resolved and all wounds were healed, but something quieter. A mutual understanding, perhaps. A moment where he’d open up, even just a little, and let you see the person behind all the walls he’d built.
You knew he was hurting. You’d always known, even when he tried to mask it with anger or indifference. His actions, the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks, were all symptoms of something deeper.
But there was another part of you, a quieter voice that you couldn’t ignore. The part that braced for no change at all. That prepared for the possibility that when, if, he woke up, he’d still be the same person he was before. That he’d still look at you like you were the problem, the obstacle, the thing standing in the way of his happiness.
That part of you longed for freedom.
You’d spent so much time tangled up in his chaos, in his pain, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just...be.
Maybe, if and when he woke up, he’d be willing to part ways. And maybe that would be for the best.
“I ran out of eggs!”
You blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”
“Eggs!” she repeated, holding up the empty carton. “I can’t believe I forgot them. I’m halfway through making this cake, and now I have to stop everything to run to the store.”
“I’ll go with you!” you said quickly, standing up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.
Kira froze, narrowing her eyes at you. “You know you’re not supposed to leave.”
“And you’re supposed to be at the courthouse, but here you are, baking a cake for a man.”
“First of all, it’s called paid time off,” she replied, narrowing her eyes further. “Secondly, San’s stroke game is top tier.”
“Oh my God, stop!” you cut her off, throwing your hands up.
“I do not want to hear about your sex life with my cousin. He used to eat mud as a kid.”
Kira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Anyway,” she continued, “your dad would absolutely kill me. He gave strict orders to keep you here. And unlike you, I actually follow them.”
“Come on, Kira,” you pleaded. Your eyes landed on Maro, lounging nearby. You scooped him up in one swift motion, holding him up like a fluffy shield.
“Even Maro thinks it’s a good idea!”
Mingi tilted his head, his dark eyes widening as he gave Kira his best impression of a sad, helpless puppy.
“Look at him. He’s begging you.”
Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s a quick trip. Five minutes, tops,” you promised, your tone bordering on desperate. “I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay by your side the entire time!”
She sighed, clearly wavering. “Fine.”
The ding of the store’s bell announced your arrival, and the comforting smell of fried food from the deli counter made your stomach grumble. Kira grabbed a basket, striding purposefully toward the back where the eggs were stashed.
“Eggs,” she said firmly, shooting you a warning glance over her shoulder.
“Got it,” you replied, though your eyes immediately wandered to the chip aisle.
The small store was quiet, almost unnervingly still, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. As you followed Kira, your gaze flicked around the store—a habit you’d picked up recently without fully realizing it. Your shoulders tensed, the faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck making you feel exposed. It was probably nothing, you told yourself, trying to brush it off.
Kira tossed a carton of eggs into the basket and turned to you with a raised brow. “Anything else?”
Her voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby rack and a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels from the next shelf over.
“Alright, ready!” you chirped.
The cashier rang up your items without much fuss, and soon you were both on your way. But as the store door clicked shut behind you, that sense of discomfort returned. You glanced over your shoulder, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might draw unwanted attention.
Your eyes darted to the empty street ahead, scanning the familiar buildings and darkened windows. It looked deserted, but the nagging feeling told you otherwise.
“You okay?” Kira asked, noticing your hesitation.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, the word tumbling out a little too fast. You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing.
You told yourself it was nothing, a stray thought feeding your paranoia. But as you turned the corner toward your apartment, your worst fears materialized. A shadow detached itself from the side of a building ahead, stepping into the weak glow of the nearest streetlamp. Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened when you noticed the glint of the knife in hand.
“Y/N.”
Your stalker. Your former nanny.
Kira froze beside you, her posture immediately tense. Her free hand twitched toward her phone, but her other gripped your arm tightly, as if anchoring you in place. You shook her off with a small, almost imperceptible gesture, your lips moving silently to form the words: Call San.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. She stepped back, her movements careful as she pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Hey…mom,” you said, your voice trembling but just steady enough to hold its own. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was all you could think of to buy yourself time.
The woman’s head tilted, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Oh, my sweet Y/N,” she cooed, taking a step closer.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued. “You’ve grown so much. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
The delusion in her voice sent ice down your spine. She didn’t just see you as a person. You were a possession—something she believed she owned.
“It’s been a while,” you said cautiously, keeping your tone light, though your hands trembled at your sides.
“What…what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to take you home!”
“Right…home,” you repeated, your stomach churning at the word. You took a step back, careful to keep your movements slow and nonthreatening.
“Why don’t we go for a walk and catch up? I just ate, and walking helps with digestion. Did you know that?”
The woman blinked, her head tilting further to the side. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard by the suggestion.
“A walk?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face before fading into hesitant curiosity. “You want to spend time with me?”
You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “O-Of course! I mean, it’s been so long, right? We have so much to talk about.”
Behind you, Kira moved as quietly as possible, her phone pressed to her ear as she whispered into the receiver. The nanny walked ahead, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand as your figures disappeared into the darkness.
⋆
Mingi paced restlessly around the penthouse, his claws clicking softly against the floor. His tail flicked with agitation, and his ears twitched, straining to catch a sound that wasn’t there. Something felt wrong—deeply, inexplicably wrong. You were only supposed to be gone with Kira for five minutes.
But those five minutes had turned to an hour.
The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Jongho burst inside, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His face was pale and his brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the voice on the other end.
“Yes, I’m here now,” he said hurriedly, his tone clipped and tense. Mingi froze mid-step, his ears flicking forward as Jongho’s words sank in. Looking for you? His heart dropped. Did something happen to you?
“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Yes, San and Kira are out looking for her along with law enforcement.”
Mingi’s nose twitched, catching the faint remnants of Jongho’s scent. There was something else mingled with it—the sharp tang of fear. A shiver ran down his spine. Jongho wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.
In his frenzy, Jongho forgot to shut the door completely. It clicked behind him, but the latch didn’t catch, leaving it slightly ajar as he retreated further into the penthouse.
Mingi knew you were most definitely scared, but were relying on your wit to keep your abductor as distracted for as long as possible. But it could only go so far. You needed help. You needed him.
He darted after Jongho, letting out a short, sharp yip that made him turn with a frown.
“Maro?” Jongho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Mingi barked again, more insistent this time. He jumped in place, then headbutted Jongho's leg with surprising force, urging him toward the hallway. When Jongho still didn’t move, Mingi let out a sharp yip, trotted to the door, and paused to bark over his shoulder. Come on, follow me!
Out in the hallway, Mingi’s incessant barking continued until Jongho relented, reaching out to push the call button for the elevator.
Jongho stared down at the little dog, confusion etched across his face. “Why are you so interested in the elevator?”
Mingi stayed silent in an attempt to get this timing right. Then, as soon as the doors began to close, he darted forward, squeezing inside at the last second. Jongho blinked, momentarily stunned, before the realization hit him.
“I just…got played by a dog.”
Outside, Mingi paused just long enough to pick up your scent on the breeze. Darting forward, Mingi weaved through the bustling crowd, his small frame slipping unnoticed between legs and around obstacles. His nose twitched, staying locked on the trail, as he took off into the night with the promise of finding you
“I’m coming,” he whispered under his breath, to keep himself moving. His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop.
Your nanny stood a few feet away, as you guided her to a nearby park. Her body taut with a kind of unnatural stillness. Her expression was deceptively calm, but her eyes gleamed with something unhinged.
“How have you been? You’re married right? I see the ring on your finger.”
Your fingers twitched involuntarily, brushing against the cool platinum of your wedding band. It felt heavier than usual under her scrutinizing gaze. “I am,” you replied, keeping your tone calm and steady despite the way your stomach churned.
“Almost three years now.”
“Three years? That’s wonderful. What’s your husband like? Oh, I’d love to meet him!”
“Unfortunately, he’s on a business trip overseas. B-But when he comes back, maybe we could have dinner.”
Her smile stretched impossibly wider, her eyes glinting with a strange light as she clasped her hands together. “Dinner? Oh, how wonderful! Just like old times!”
“Y-Yeah, just like old times. You, me, um, Mingi and…dad.”
“Dad?” she echoed, her voice hollow and strained. “Your father?”
The moment the word "Dad" left your lips, her expression darkened and her grip on the knife tightened, turning her knuckles white as the blade trembled in her hand.
“No! Not him! Not while he’s married to that bitch!” she spat venomously.
“You know, his wife didn’t love you like I did! She didn’t raise you! She wasn’t there for you!”
Her face twisted with fury, her voice rising as she screamed. “She left you behind! Do you remember that? Do you? She didn’t care about you! She abandoned you—threw you away like trash! But me? I stayed. I cared. I’m your family!”
Mingi’s ears perked up at the sound of that voice. It was her—the same woman who had tried to abduct Yena weeks ago. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he forced his down, shifting his focus to the sights and sounds around him. In the distance, he caught fragments of Kira’s raised voice, as she argued with the District Attorney.
“She should never have been released!”
“Her delusions weren’t just untreated, they were escalating. And instead of following protocol, the facility discharged her prematurely without an appropriate plan in place.”
Mingi’s ears flicked toward the sound as Kira’s voice grew louder, her pace quickening.
“The ruling was explicit! The family was to be notified of any changes in her care plan. But no one was! And now she’s out here, putting Y/N in danger!”
The echoes of Kira’s tirade faded into the background as Mingi tuned everything else out, his focus narrowing to a single goal. Find you. Protect you.
She won’t hurt you. I won’t let her, he promised.
You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you searched for the right words to diffuse the situation. “You’re right,” you said gently, taking a slow step forward as your eyes stayed locked on the blade.
“I should’ve done more to stay in touch. You were important to me, and I didn’t show that the way I should have.”
Mingi crept closer, staying low and moving with careful precision. His small frame blended with the shadows cast by the trees, his paws silent against the ground. His ears were pinned back as he watched the stalker. For a split second, her grip on the knife faltered. Her expression softened, dimming into something more fragile, almost childlike.
But then her face contorted again. “You’re lying!” she screamed, taking a step toward you.
“You don’t mean that! You’re just saying that to make me go away.” She took a step closer, the knife jerking with her erratic movements.
His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of your fear mingled with her unbridled rage. Her emotions were spiraling out of control, and with every step she took, the gap between you and danger grew smaller.
“I’m not,” you said firmly, taking a careful step backwards.
“I mean it. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I want to be here for you now. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”
She hesitated, the knife wavering slightly in her grip. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like your words might be getting through.
Mingi inched closer, his eyes tracking her trembling hand, and his body tensed, ready to spring.
“You’ll leave me again! Just like her!”
That was his cue. With a burst of speed, Mingi darted forward, his small body a blur of motion. His sharp teeth clamped down on her ankle, eliciting a startled cry. She stumbled, but her fury only intensified. She lashed out blindly, her hand sweeping through the air, the knife flashing dangerously.
“Maro!” you screamed.
Without hesitation, you lunged forward, your heart pounding as you reached for her wrist. Your grip was firm, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination as you kicked her back, sending her stumbling slightly. With a swift motion, you scooped Mingi into your arms, cradling him against your chest.
As she steadied herself, her arm swung wildly and you raised your arm to shield Mingi. The knife sliced through your forearm leaving streaks of blood, but you didn’t let go, tightened your hold on him as you focused on the woman in front of you.
“I’m sorry you lost your daughter,” you began, your tone water as you tried to bite back the pain radiating down your arm.
“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been carrying, or how much it’s changed you. I’m sure whatever happened broke you in ways no one can see. But trying to replace her won’t bring her back.”
You could see the tears threatening to spill over, but they did nothing to soften her. If anything, they seemed to fuel her anger. Her grip on the knife tightened as she took a shaky step toward you. Your heart pounded and Mingi whimpered softly, pressing his small body closer to yours, and you instinctively held him tighter, bracing yourself.
“Police! Drop your weapon!”
“Y/N!” your dad’s voice rang out. You turned your head just enough to see him running toward you, San and Kira close behind, flanked by a group of police officers.
The stalker froze, her head snapping toward the source of the commotion. Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a split second, you thought she might comply. But then her face contorted with fury once more, and she tightened her hold, her body tensing as if preparing to lunge.
“Stay back!” she screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.
The officers fanned out, their weapons drawn, their voices calm but firm as they repeated their commands. “Drop the knife! Put it down now!”
Your dad reached you first, his hand gripping your shoulder as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his sharp eyes taking in the blood streaking down your arm and the puppy trembling in your hold.
“She cut me,” you admitted, glancing at the blood streaking down your arm. “It’s not deep, but—” You shifted Mingi slightly in your hold, cradling him closer.
Mingi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his head resting heavily against your chest as your dad checked you over. His breaths came slower now, each one softer than the last. His little paws twitched as though he were trying to cling to you.
His mind wandered, a hazy string of thoughts pulling him along. He couldn’t wait to go home, to finally feel safe and warm. He imagined curling up in your lap, nuzzling into your arms while you stroked his fur. He thought about Hetmon and all the running around they’re going to do at the park.
Oh, and snacks, he thought sleepily. Lots of snacks. His little tail gave a faint twitch at the thought, but even that felt like too much effort now.
Just a nap, he thought. I’ll rest for a bit, then we’ll go home. We’ll be okay.
When Mingi woke, the air around him was...different. It wasn’t the plush sheets of your bed or the soft pillow he’d grown accustomed to sleeping on. Instead, he found himself in a small, cozy basket lined with a soft cushion, placed near a gently crackling fireplace.
He blinked, his vision adjusting to the soft light streaming through the windows of a small cottage. The space was intimate, with wooden walls lined with shelves overflowing with books, plants, and stacks of parchment. The scent of tea and ink hung in the air, faint but familiar, tugging at something deep in Mingi’s memory.
The atmosphere was comforting, nostalgic even, though Mingi couldn’t quite place why.
“Ah,” the man said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re finally awake.”
Mingi’s ears perked up as he turned toward the sound. A man crouched next to him–his features were sharp but his expression was soft and kind. Mingi tilted his head, his ears twitching as he studied the man. He’d never met him before, but his scent was unmistakable.
It was audacious and bold, much like the jazz notes he remembered sitting on the piano back at home.
Kim Hongjoong?
<< v | vii >>
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@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00
@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24
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#song mingi#cromernet#ateez mingi#mingi x reader#arranged marriage au#ateez#mingi x you#ateez fic#mingi angst#ateez angst#enemies to lovers#strangers to lovers
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Alistair vs. Cullen
It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.
Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.
Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)
There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.
Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.
The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)
The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.
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"Steve! You've got to help me. I panicked, and I told my Tinder date that you and Eddie have been dating for two years!" Robin yells as she storms into their living room.
Luckily, Steve's gotten used to her entering their apartment in such a way over the past few years, but he barely registers what she says in her haste. He takes a moment to stare at her with his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, hoping the words will eventually make sense.
They don’t.
"What?"
Robin paces back and forth while gesturing wildly with her hands. "You know how I do the thing where I ramble around girls I find really really hot? Well, I was doing that, and I brought you up and kept going on about how annoying my roommate is-"
"Are you kidding m-"
Robin continues as if she didn't just insult him. "And she kind of stopped and look at me and said, 'Your roommate is a guy?' And I got confused and said yes because why would I lie? And she got all uncomfortable and started asking more questions like if you were gay or straight, and I told her you were bi, and she got even weirder! So, eventually I just straight up asked her what was wrong, and she said that she didn't want to go out with me if my roommate was potentially into me. So I told her that wasn't a problem because you've been dating Eddie for two years." She finishes with that awkward lip bite she does which can be oddly endearing sometimes. But it’s not this time.
Steve leans forward on the couch. "I'm sorry. You still want to go out with a girl who has no trust in my ability to keep things in my pants? As if she doesn't trust that you're a lesbian and if I ever made a move on you, you would absolutely punch me in the throat."
Robin sits next to him and grabs his hands. "She's so so hot, Steve. Please."
Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, you can keep telling her that I’m dating Eddie, I guess."
Robin breaks eye contact and starts picking at her nail polish.
Well, that’s not a great sign. "What aren't you telling me?"
Robin slowly looks at him in the way a dog looks at their owner after destroying their favorite shoes. "Okay, so then I really got a bit crazy, and when she asked me to show me pictures of you two together, I dropped my phone in my glass of water." She slowly pulls out her phone, and sure enough, it won't even turn on.
Steve digs the heels of his hands into his eyes before grabbing her phone and stalking off to the kitchen to find rice and a bowl. Robin follows after him.
"So, all I need to do is take a few pictures of you guys looking really coupley on dates and whatnot and make it look like they range over the past two years. I also told Veronica that I would let her meet you two sometime soon,” She rushes in to add the second thing before Steve can really process the first one. She just smiles, trying to look all sweet and endearing.
Steve gives Robin the best bitchy glare he has, but she shoots him one back and counters by saying, "You owe me, and you know it."
"For what?" Steve asks as he pours rice over her phone.
Robin crosses her arms. "Three weeks ago, you kicked me out of the apartment without warning to have sex with some random girl, and I was left stranded for the night."
Steve scoffs, "You went to Nancy's and slept in her very nice guest bedroom!"
"You owe me!"
Steve puts the bag of rice down and sighs. "Fine, but if Eddie doesn't agree, then I'm out."
Robin smiles. "Deal."
Steve hates how confident she is about the whole thing, so he calls Eddie and puts him on speaker. When he answers, Steve immediately says, "Hey, Eddie, you're on speaker with me and Robin, and she has a very ridiculous request for you. I'll let her tell you the details."
After Robin recounts her night and Steve tries not to rant about how much of a bad vibe he gets from the girl, Eddie pauses for a bit to take it all in. Then, he says, "Robin, I really don't like this Veronica girl."
"She's hot!" Robin retorts.
Eddie snorts on the other line. "I'm in if Steve's in."
Steve's jaw drops. Robin shoots him a big smile. "Perfect! What if we started on pictures early tomorrow? I've got a lot of random dates to prepare you guys for."
Steve interrupts before Eddie can answer. "And why can't you show her like... three pictures of us cuddling on the couch?"
"We need to cover our tracks as much as we can and cuddling on the couch a few times won’t do. Oh, we should hang a few pictures of you two around the apartment!" Robin plots excitedly.
Steve runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. He can't believe he's doing this. They don’t even have pictures hanging up.
"Tomorrow works for me," Eddie says, entirely oblivious to Steve’s internal struggle.
But Steve can't help but get a little excited at the thought of seeing Eddie and spending a whole day with him.
So, he sucks it up and says, "I'm free, too. And I'm excited to see you, Eddie. I've missed you."
"I saw you yesterday," Eddie laughs on the other line.
Steve blushes and argues, "Seeing you for a minute when I get my coffee doesn't count."
"Whatever you say, pumpkin bread."
Pumpkin bread? Steve scrunches up his nose in protest. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”
"Just practicing for when we meet this Veronica girl, my peach."
Steve can’t help but laugh. "We are not that kind of couple. But I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams, rubber ducky."
Eddie laughs loudly on the other line and muffles the sound probably with his hand.
Steve bites his lip, trying not to get too pleased at causing that reaction.
"Good night, sweetheart." The line beeps three times as the call ends, and Steve can't help the smile that grows on his face. Sweetheart... he kind of likes that one.
"Glad to see you two get into your roles," Robin says with a smirk.
Steve jumps back, having forgotten she was there. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” With that, he quickly rushes off to his room before Robin can say anything else about the interaction.
"Goodnight, dingus!" she calls after him joyously.
This all better be worth it.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The next morning, Steve can't help but get a little nervous when Eddie sends him an "Almost there!" text. He has a feeling this whole thing is going to blow up in their faces or something.
He's always known that Eddie's been cute. Hell, the first time he saw him, Steve thought he was hot. But he had never thought of them together after that. Sure, there was definitely a certain chemistry between them, but for some reason, Steve always saw him as off-limits. Especially since Dustin would kill him if he ever broke Eddie's heart.
So, Steve learned to push down any feelings he's had for him over the years. And he's afraid that all those repressed feelings are going to come up today.
There's a knock on his and Robin's apartment door, and Steve freezes. Hopefully his and Eddie’s friendship will survive whatever happens next.
Here goes nothing.
He opens the door to find a curly head of hair in front of him that isn't Eddie's.
"Nancy?"
"Hi! I'm here to take pictures today," she explains as she walks through the door, wiggling her Canon camera in her hand. "I thought Robin told you."
"She certainly did not," Steve says and pinches his nose. He might kill her. He pushes the door shut, but it stops.
"Hey," Eddie says peaking his head out from behind the door and catching Steve’s eye quickly. "Sorry, I'm late," he apologizes as he pulls Steve into a tight hug.
Steve lingers in it, squeezing Eddie tightly, smelling the lavender shampoo he uses, and trying to make the moment last as long as he can.
The sound of a camera shutter snaps him out of the moment.
He pulls back and looks at Nancy.
"Taking some candid pictures," she says unapologetically.
But Steve doesn't care too much when he feels Eddie's hand linger on his back. "You're taking pictures for us? What happened to Robin?"
"Yes, what did happen to Robin?" Steve asks raising his voice so she'll hear him.
"Coming!" she yells then comes out of her room looking very strangely put together. Steve glances down at her wrist and notices her wearing her lucky black bracelet. When did she start wearing that again?
"You look nice," Nancy says with a soft smile.
"Thanks," Robin replies with a soft blush.
Steve is definitely missing something, but he can't pay attention when Eddie is gently rubbing his back. He's going to end up dying on the spot.
"Eddie!" Robin says, finally noticing him, "I see you brought the extra clothes."
Steve glances down to where Eddie's suitcase sits on the floor. He does not remember him bringing that in. Shit, he's so distracted by his presence. Wait. "Why did you bring extra clothes?" he asks Eddie then notices how close they're standing. Oh, hello, Eddie's very soft-looking lips.
"I told you we're covering two years. That means different seasons," Robin says as if the answer is obvious.
Hell no. "There's no way in hell I'm wearing cold clothes outside in the heat."
"Good thing I planned for us to stay in for those pictures," Nancy says with a smile on her face. "Now go change into one of your sweaters or something. Oh! Eddie, you should change with him so you two can color coordinate. It'll be so cute!"
Steve adds Nancy to the list of people he might murder.
Eddie's hand drops from his back as he wheels the suitcase into Steve's room. Steve follows and closes the door behind him.
"Sorry for all this," Steve says, glancing around to make sure nothing embarrassing is laying out.
Eddie shakes his head and brushes it off as if it's nothing, "Nah, it's all good. I think it could be fun if we let it. Color coordinating is a horrible idea though."
"Agreed," Steve replies, deciding that his room looks fine. He opens up his closet and pushes his short sleeve clothes to the side to try to get to his sweaters hanging in the back. "What are you thinking for clothes?"
"I don't care as long as you wear your yellow sweater for one of the pictures."
Steve snorts. For some reason, Eddie had such an attachment to the thing. One time, he mistakenly put it in his designated donation bin, and he thought Eddie was going to cry when he found it.
He had cradled the thing to his chest and dramatically said, "You don't understand, Steve. Some people's lives depend on you wearing this sweater. Their lives, Steve."
Steve had rolled his eyes, put it back on a hanger, and hung it with the other sweaters. "Better?" he asked.
"Much better."
And the whole thing had been worth it to see the smile on Eddie's face - especially when Steve decided to surprise him by wearing it to the coffee shop the next day.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Eddie asks with a smile, suddenly very close to him.
Steve shakes his head as if shaking away the memory. "Nothing."
Eddie raises an eyebrow but he doesn't push it before he goes back to his suitcase and starts laying out his clothes on Steve's bed.
Steve strips off his shirt and pulls the sweater over his head. He glances down at his jeans and decides that Veronica probably won't remember what pants he was wearing in each picture.
He turns to tell Eddie as much but freezes when he sees Eddie shirtless, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect assortment of layers. Steve swallows and adverts his eyes. He is not going to check him out while he's changing. He clears his throat and turns back to his closet. "I think we just need to change our shirts. Maybe outside, you can start with a base layer then add on top of that."
Steve doesn't think he can stand to see shirtless Eddie with all his tattoos out in the daylight or the moonlight - if it takes that long. And he certainly does not want to let anyone else see that either.
"That's smart, babe."
Steve's hand squeezes whatever poor shirt he was grabbing a little too tight at the nickname. He's never been one for nicknames, especially over-the-top ones, but knowing it's Eddie calling him that as if he really does love him... it really does something for Steve.
He doesn't reply as he grabs a few shirts and jackets and lays them out on the bed next to Eddie's stuff.
He glances up at Eddie and almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that he has a shirt on. And a flannel. And his leather jacket. Thank goodness for layers.
He looks back at Eddie's face and catches the exact moment that Eddie registers him wearing the yellow sweater. His eyes fill with unhinged excitement and joy. He walks right into Steve's space and leans down - oh my god - to talk to the sweater.
"I've missed you so much. You know, it's so unfair that Steve only gets to wear you for a small part of the year. And he doesn't own anything short-sleeved in your beautiful color it seems."
Steve puts his hands on his hips and stares up at the ceiling. He can't believe he's ever had trouble pushing down feelings for this man.
(But he makes a note to himself to buy more things in yellow just for him.)
There’s a loud knocking on the door, then Robin yells, “You two have been in there for a while! Everything okay?”
“Eddie is talking to my sweater again!” Steve calls back.
There’s a pause before Nancy says, “Sorry, we didn’t hear you right. What?”
“I’m talking to his sweater! Be out soon!” Eddie yells.
There’s some mumbling outside the door as Steve finally looks down at Eddie and asks, “Are you done?”
Eddie smiles up at him. “Never.”
But he straightens up and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s shoulder before he turns to leave the room. “That was for the sweater, not you,” Eddie clarifies.
“Right,” Steve replies. Because that makes so much sense.
Today is going to kill him.
Part two ;)
(This was meant to just be a ficlet for my dear friend @henderdads , and then it turned into a six-part fic. I hope you enjoy!! ((Especially you, Cass)) AO3 Link here!)
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beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)
summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf
genre: fluff
characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader
words: 3.5
a/n: i wasn't done
warnings: danger! knives! guns!
part 1!
Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.
Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.
“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”
You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.
But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.
It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.
“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.
For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.
“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”
You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”
He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”
“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”
“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.
“Right.”
He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”
You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”
He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.
“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.
“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”
Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.
“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”
You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”
He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.
—
Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.
Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—
“AUUUGH!”
The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.
“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?
He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.
Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”
The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.
“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.
“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”
“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.
Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”
The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.
“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”
Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.
“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”
As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.
“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”
—
Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.
A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.
When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.
“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”
He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”
As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”
“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”
“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”
Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”
“Even from me?” you teased.
“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.
“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”
“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”
“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”
“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”
Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”
You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”
“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.
You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.
He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.
“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”
“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”
You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”
—
It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.
You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.
“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.
“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”
Needless to say, you weren’t over it.
Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.
“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”
You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”
“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”
You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.
Your phone buzzed.
Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.
You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.
You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?
Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.
You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”
Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?
Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.
You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.
—
The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.
“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.
Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”
“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”
“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.
Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”
Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”
“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.
Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”
Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.
“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”
“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”
Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.
“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.
“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”
You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”
—
Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.
He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.
But he spoke too soon.
A chilling scream echoed in his ears.
A scream too close to home.
A scream from near your apartment.
“BEOM–GYUAAA!”
His blood ran cold.
Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.
His heart dropped.
He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.
Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.
The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.
Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.
“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”
The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”
Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.
“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”
The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.
“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”
With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.
Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.
You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”
Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.
“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.
Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?
You shook your head.
-
part 1!
#txt fic#txt oneshot#txt x reader#txt fluff#txt fanfic#txt imagines#txt scenarios#beomgyu x reader#tomorrow x together#beomgyu x y/n#beomgyu au#choi beomgyu au#beomgyu!spiderman au
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hanni getting lost finding the correct bus ride and yn getting lost in hanni’s eyes 😉
- 🍊
“Lost”
Non-Idol!Hanni Pham x Reader
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fc0c0c121441fef5a2fc079e74c5c8ab/c719883d1d79f85a-ae/s500x750/804dedb4cd94f9c37d5a0a418e5f0b405ca22b68.jpg)
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↳synopsis: While trekking back to your home after a long tiring day of work, you really couldn’t take your eyes off the girl who happened to take the same route as you. It was odd though, since you’ve never seen her before, additionally she looked quite confused. It wasn’t until she kept taking the same transportation as you when you finally realized she was actually lost.
↳cw: lovestruck reader, not proofread, pure fluff
↳wc: 1.6k
a/n: we meet again 🍊, but I’m very excited to get requests because that means i can serve you gorgeous gorgeous people. besides i had lots and lots of fun writing this! Sadly this is very short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy regardless
She was so lost right now, oh-so-lost, to the point where she started getting on and off at random stops and digging herself further into a rabbit hole. Her original destination, which wasn't all that far from her original stance, well before she accidentally got on the wrong bus, was now further away than she'd anticipated. The long dark haired woman getting even more antsy and distraught, caught the unwanted attention of other public transportation goers. And you were no expectation from that, your eyes lingered a little too long at the frustrated girl.
You felt so terrible for her, you've been in her position more than once so you knew the feeling exactly, to add salt to the wound, you also happened to be going on the same exact route as her. Well— Not technically, she just so happened to keep getting lost in the direction you were going. That also means that you saw her struggling for the past few rides without saying anything, and of course, your guilty conscience was getting the best of you.
Making the decision to talk to her, you waited for the perfect opportunity, subtly following her and making sure she wasn't lurking around in the dangerous parts of town. The woman took a break at a nearby bus stop, slouching onto the bar of the sunshade, giving leverage for her back. She pulled out her phone and started typing out various words before huffing angrily.
Finally biting the bullet, you hauled your way over to the dark-haired woman and tapped her gently on the shoulder. Flinching at the sudden touch she whipped her head towards you, slapping your face with strands of hair. Clenching your jaw you bit back any remark you had about her practically smacking you with her hair because you felt terribly pitiful for her. As she snapped her head back with a sharp hiccup she stared right at you, clearly still distressed by the situation she was in.
The way her eyes met yours, how they glistened slightly as they made contact with the sunlight, and how delicate her features were, made your heart sink. Hitching your breath you began to speak softly, not wanting to intimidate the poor woman even further. "Hey, so I saw you a few stops back..." You mumbled, your words barely distinguishable, "Are you, uhm...perhaps lost?" You ask, pretending to be blind by the fact you did know she was lost, as your eyes tried to pry away from hers.
"Oh! Oh my! Yes— I'm so lost right now— I don't know where I am! Thank you for asking— you see I was—" As she stuttered out her whole circumstances of events your eyes drifted to the scenery around her, and back to her eyes. The way it captivated you so easily was a spectacle within itself, how she scrunched her nose as she recounted something about getting the wrong direction. Honestly, you weren't all that interested in how she got in this situation, as shallow as it was, your eyes lingered more on hers than how dreadful her recounting was.
Mindlessly nodding as you moved from her eyes and down to her lips, taking a mental note of how her gloss exemplified the slightly pink tint of her lips. Giving her gentle "Mhms" "Ohh" and "I get it" as she continued on her tyrant on how her friends just casually left her behind. As her story came to a close, you snapped yourself out of the daze she put you in and coughed out a reply.
"What's your name again?"
"Hanni!" She bubbled, tilting her head slightly, letting her delicate black pool onto her shoulder. Taking in on how the sun hit her face as she did so, everything about her was undoubtedly breathtaking. In some sick way, you were quite grateful her friends accidentally gave her the wrong location, giving you the chance to stumble across a hidden jewel like her.
"And what's yours, stranger?" Her toothy smile as she awaited your answer made you even more giddy, like a teenage boy going through his first crush. She reminded you of the warm sunlight hitting your face as you awoke for another day, so refreshing and lively, irreplaceable and unique.
"Call me, Y/N. And I'm sorry about that, if you still need help I'll help you find your way around." You chuckled softly, barely failing to hide the anticipation in your voice. You so desperately wanted her to agree but wanted to be nonchalant about it, to not freak her out. But truly, deep inside, you were practically shaking at the idea of helping this captivating woman to where she needed to go. Besides, you also wanted to keep her safe, and help her not encounter any of the other unsafe areas.
Hanni, who was at this point grateful anyone took the initiative to talk with her, let alone offer to personally help her get to the proper destination, agreed without any hesitation. It was almost concerning how fast she agreed to your offer, but you were happy she did nevertheless. “Ah— You’d do that for me? Thank you so much I know it’s a lot to ask for—“ Hanni spoke again once more, her words were hurried and rushed but she was more than appreciative that you’d help her.
“Oh! Don’t worry about it,—Hanni was it? I’d feel terrible if you managed to get lost even further and I didn’t say anything about it.” You admitted, locking into her softened gaze for a moment as you psychoanalyzed the way her eyes turned into little crescent moons as she laughed. Despite being so clearly strained, she was able to find the best of her situation without fail, it amazed you how anyone could be that chipper, let alone, this stunning.
“Haha, I get that, but let’s be honest it’s not every day someone gets this lost.” Hanni joked, emphasizing the word “this” because most sane people wouldn’t be mindlessly continuing to get on and off and making it worse for themselves. You both just laughed at her predicament, having a casual conversation before eventually deciding it was time to take her where she intended to go.
You accompanied her throughout the short trip giving her simple suggestions and pointers as to how to navigate public transportation. As you traveled with Hanni, you got to know her bit by bit, how she loved to sing and dance, and how you had quite a bit in common. Like how both of you loved to read, she knew quite a lot of classic literature which you also happened to love.
As you looked at the map on your phone, you felt a pang of sadness knowing how close you both were. Knowing this was most definitely the last time you’d ever see Hanni, despite being the first meeting, you felt like you’d known her for ages. You stared at the window, taking in the greenery, letting out an exasperated sigh, the sun was setting at this point, and the lost girl was tired by now.
Hanni’s drowsy eyes started to bat open and close as her head drifted closer towards your shoulder, the side of her temple colliding gently with you. She was dozing off whilst resting herself on her shoulder, hitching your breath you reached your hand out and stroked her head gently. Making sure she didn’t wake up before her stop, understanding she needed some type of rest.
You glanced at your cellphone, watching the tracker of your phone inch ever so closely to the destination. Finally, close enough you reached over for the stop button on the bus and clicked it ever so quietly. It only took a few minutes before the bus took its full stop, your hand wrapped around her, and you gave her a quick shrug to wake the tired girl. Hanni, a little surprised she dozed off on you, apologized before standing up and dragging you with her.
Laughing at her antics you got off with her, she looked mighty flushed but it was oddly adorable. You chuckled with her as she tried to muster up the courage to speak up, she had something on her mind but didn’t have the heart to say anything. “Hey Y/N, I have a question.” She asked biting the bullet.
“Ah, yes? What is it, Hanni?” You replied, ruffling your hair as you admired her sun-kissed face beamed in the golden hour. She was incredible in any setting, you wanted to tell her that but god forbid you to make things awkward when everything was so good right now.
“Do you have a number?”
“Yeah, do you want it?”
“Yes please” She mumbled as she reached her phone out, the page already opened to the phone app, ready for you to input your digits. Your face was flushed but you’re glad she couldn’t tell how flustered you were as you quickly inputted your contact information.
“Oh, and I wanted to tell you. I’m so glad I met you Y/N you don’t know how much it meant to me when you decided to help someone like me out.”
“It’s nothing, I’m glad I met you.” You slip up, not realizing what you said before it was far too late, Hanni’s hands lift to her cheeks as she flushed a bright pink shade. Not expecting your thoughts to verbalize so easily, you mentally cursed yourself and tried to take it back before she cut you off.
“I’m glad too! I’ll text you when I get home alright?”
“I promise.” She added as she smiled, getting lost in her eyes once more.
“Alright, call me if you get lost again.”
The ending is so trash omg
#idol x female reader#idol x reader#newjeans imagines#newjeans x reader#female reader#gxg#wlw fic#Hanni pham#Hanni pham x reader#Hanni pham x female reader#Hanni pham x male reader#pham Hanni x reader#Newjeans x you
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*Post-Practice Cool Down–Steve Harrington
Warnings: unprotected sex, shower sex, rough/kinky sex, language
Billy Hargrove came to Hawkins and immediately tried to take over. The girls loved him and the guys hated him. From the second he met Steve, he made it his life mission to get in his head. And he had two ways to do this; through basketball and me.
We've been friends since kindergarten after Steve stood up for me when Tommy kept pulling my pigtails. During freshman year, my crush finally asked me out. I was so excited but after two dates, I caught him making out with another girl.
I was so heartbroken I ran home from school that day. A little later, Steve came climbing through my window. He sat with me all night and kept saying what a douche the guy was and that I deserved better. I fell asleep in his arms. Right as I fell asleep, I heard him whisper that he loved me.
The next day at school I was awkward and nervous around him. He asked me at lunch what was going on and I couldn't tell him. He dragged me to the baseball field and we sat down on the bleachers. He pushed me to tell him what was wrong.
~•~
"Come on, Y/N," Steve sighed as he grabbed my hand. "You gotta talk to me. I'm your best friend. I know when something's wrong."
"I heard you," I whispered.
"What are you talking about?"
"After Luke cheated on me, you came over," I started to recount. "You stayed with me all night and. . . Right before I fell asleep, I heard you whisper something."
"Oh," Steve mumbled, catching on. I felt him readjust his grip on my hand.
"It's okay," I said quickly. Steve looked at me, instantly studying me.
"It is?"
"Yeah," I shrugged. "Because I. . . I mean we've. . . I do."
"You do?" Steve asked, scooting closer to me.
"I do," I whispered. I gasped when Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Smiling, I slowly started kissing him back. We got lost in the kiss. The only thing that brought us out of it was the bell ringing.
~•~
Ever since Billy came to town, Steve's been kind of tense. He's been almost defensive. No matter what I do, nothing seems to help.
I sat and watched the boys play basketball, cringing when Steve slowly started getting frustrated. He kept making eye contact with me. Whenever he did, his eyes softened. But then Billy would say something and Steve would get angry all over again.
I jumped when Billy pushed Steve to the ground. I sat at the edge of my seat when Billy went to help Steve up. He whispered something before roughly pushing him back down. Steve was fuming as he went to the boy's locker room.
I waited for Steve but he was taking longer than normal. When everyone else had gone home, Steve still hadn't come out. Sighing, I grabbed my backpack and headed into the locker room. I could hear the water running.
"You know something, Harrington?" Billy laughed. I peeked around the corner to see Billy turning off Steve's shower. "I gotta give you some props. That girl of yours? Y/N? She's pretty sexy. Sexier than you, that's for sure. She's too good for you. Maybe I should. . ."
"If you go anywhere near my Y/N," Steve started to threaten.
"You know, if she ever wants someone to show her a real good time, have her give me a call."
Billy smirked before leaving the showers. I tucked into a stall as Billy got dressed and left. When he was gone, I finally snuck out. I walked around to the showers and saw Steve angrily hit his shower head and turn it back on. I bit my lip, unable to stop myself from looking over my boyfriend's wet body.
I found his locker and slowly took off my shirt and jeans. Still in my underwear, I walked back to the showers. I double-checked that we were alone before walking into the showers.
"You're wasting water."
Steve turned around, unable to stop himself from checking me out as I slipped out of my underwear. "What are you doing here?" He panicked, quickly turning off the water. "Y/N, this is the boy's shower."
"Exactly," I giggled as I reached up to take off my bra. Steve chewed on his bottom lip as he watched me unhook it in the front.
"Baby," he stuttered. "What if. . ."
"No one else is here," I said softly as I stepped towards him. I smirked as I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at my eyes, not my breasts. "You're all hot, baby. You need to cool down."
Steve moaned as I grabbed his shoulders and lifted my leg. He bit his lip as he grabbed my leg, pulling me closer to him.
"Everyone left a long time ago," I whispered.
"Good," Steve grunted as he pushed me up against the wall. He instantly attached his lips to mine.
Our lips moved messily in sync as we pulled our bodies close together. Soon, we were grinding in our usual rough and smooth rhythm. Steve squeezed my thigh, pulling me closer as he pushed into me. I broke the kiss and moaned as he started thrusting in and out of me.
Steve leaned down and pressed his face between my breasts. I swore under my breath as he played hockey with his tongue and my nipple.
"Oh baby," I moaned loudly.
Steve broke the kiss and roughly pulled out of me. He turned me around and pushed me up against the wall. My hands were pressed against the shower wall as Steve lined himself up.
"Fuck, baby girl," he swore as he pushed into me.
I leaned back against him as he snuck his hands around my body. He slid his hands up my stomach until he found my breasts. He squeezed them as he pulsed in and out of me. Steve slowly pulled out of me, making me gasp in pain.
"Sorry, baby," he whispered. "You know I can't control myself around you. It takes everything in me not to take you to the bathroom and devour you every day I see you."
I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. "I don't mind you being rough with me," I whispered. "It makes me feel sexy."
"Good," he groaned. "Because you are, baby girl. You're my sexy little kitty cat."
"And your my protective big dog," I whispered standing on my toes, purposefully pushing my body against his.
"Fuck yeah I am," he said darkly.
"Stevie?"
"Yes, baby girl?"
"Turn the water back on."
"Yes ma'am," he moaned.
I gasped, arching my back when he pushed into me as he leaned over and turned on the water. We let out surprised gasps that turned into lust-filled laughs as the water washed over us.
Steve looked into my eyes and smirked. He pushed me back against the shower, making me choke on my moan. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer to me.
He looked directly into my eyes as he pushed into me. I grabbed his face and brought his lips down to mine. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync as he began thrusting into me.
"Come on, baby," he moaned against my lips. "Release for me."
"Not yet."
Steve groaned in protest as started to speed up his movements. I finally broke the kiss and leaned my head back against the shower pole as I arched my back. He leaned down and started sucking on my neck without skipping a beat.
He reached down and grabbed my thigh, wrapping it around his waist. He then grabbed my other thigh. He gripped my thighs tightly as he picked me up. His movements officially reached the roughest he's ever gotten with me. That's when I released.
We both let out small whines as Steve pulled out of me and put me back on my feet. I kept my arms wrapped around him and his body pressed to mine. We looked into each other's eyes as we caught our breaths and came down from our highs.
Steve leaned down and pressed his lips gently to mine. When he broke the kiss, he took a small step away from me. He grabbed my hands, gently squeezing them. Steve let go of my hand, and with the one he was still holding, he led me out of the showers.
I smiled when Steve handed me a towel. I stood on my toes and kissed him as I grabbed it. I wrapped the towel around my body and started walking back to Steve's locker. We got dressed, sharing cheeky glances.
Once we were dressed, Steve grabbed my hand and we walked out of the school together. We got into his car but he didn't drive away. I looked over to see him lost in thought.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," he said softly. He looked over at me, his eyes softening. "I want to make sure you know how much this meant to me."
"Sneaking into the boy's showers and having unprotected sex with my boyfriend?" I teased.
"No," he sighed, reaching over and grabbing my hand. "For standing by my side. I know I have this weird fued with Billy going on. He just. . . He keeps getting under my skin and it irritates the living hell out of me. I just want to. . ."
"Steve," I gently cut him off.
"Sorry," he chuckled. "What I was trying to say is you've stood by me. You've been on my side. You've calmed me down. And not just by sleeping with me. Sure, sometimes you simply kiss me and I calm down. Or you grab my hand. Or you physically pull me away. Whatever you do, it always works. It's nice having someone on my side."
"I will always be on your side, Steve."
"I know," he smiled. "That's why I love you."
I leaned over the console and pressed my lips to his. I felt him smile as he kissed me back. We broke the kiss before we could get too into this kiss.
"I love you too, Stevie," I whispered. "And I promise, I'll always be here for you."
"Good," Steve said softly. "Because I don't want you anywhere but right next to me."
"I don't plan on being anywhere else."
#steve harrington#steve#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#joe keery#joe keery imagines#joe keery x reader#joe keery POV#joe keery smut
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Variations on a Theme
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Claire Redfield x Leon Kennedy wc: ~2.6k post-vendetta, pre-death island. short fic that wouldnt leave me alone so i had to write it down. might write a continuation. happy sept. 30th, i miss my babies. dividers from @/adornedwithlight
summary: Sherry organizes a memorial service; Claire and Leon try to put aside their grief to mourn the way she does.
The call comes through at 11 PM the night before. Leon ignores most calls to his personal cell after nine, but for Claire, he makes an exception.
She never calls without purpose. Not anymore. There had been nights in the past when it had been anything and everything and the nothing in between that had kept them up until early hours of the morning. Calls crammed between operations and meetings, voicemails that still haunted his inbox. They had been better at this once.
The small talk hadn't been so stilted and forced like it was now. No ‘hey, I saw that report on Bali - was that you?’ because Claire would have known. He would have told her everything – or mostly everything. Leon would have redacted the parts that could get her into trouble. He'd leave out hostage scenarios gone wrong, spare her the inequity of his work even though she's sure to find out on her own.
Somewhere along the way, he'd started redacting so many details that his recountings had boiled down to ‘I'm glad to be back’. Somewhere along the way, Claire had stopped pressing for more.
Claire doesn't bother feigning interest in his last operation this time. She doesn't need to - TerraSave already put out a statement condemning the outcome.
She's good at small talk, always has been better at people than him. Conversation flows from her, connections come easy. He'd always admired that about her. Now, though, she's floundering. His short, to the point answers have her at a loss. That's new. Usually it just pisses her off.
“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks for the second time in their short conversation.
She lapses into silence. Redfield family trait - they love to go quiet on you when they've been found out. Like they're waiting for you to move on - like you'll forget if they just don't acknowledge it.
“Sherry's organized this memorial service,” Claire finally broaches. “For - y'know. I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there.”
Dread weighs heavy in his stomach. Of course he knows. He's been dreading this kind of thing since Terragrigia, since the gritty details of bioterrorism had been shoved in the average American's home. It's not hard to put two and two together, to realize what the Raccoon City incident had been. Maybe the public would never know the full extent, the involvement of the government, but there's footage of a hunter on LiveLeak, for fuck's sake. You could cover this shit up in the 90's, but they hadn't been on top of things when the century had turned, when more information than ever had been pumped to the general populace. Now it was like sticking a bandaid on a hemorrhaging wound.
He didn't think it would be one of their own who did this, who dredged up Raccoon City's bloated corpse and put it on display. He thought some well-meaning intern, some politician looking for a bump in numbers, trying to seem empathetic might pull this stunt – but one of their own?
He can't tell if it's a dim sense of betrayal that's twisting his gut into knots or if it's anger. He's carefully curated his life to avoid this. The month of September is his memorial. He doesn't need the cameras, the spotlight - he doesn't need other people sobbing out their grief right next to him, not when he keeps his tight to his chest.
Jesus. Sherry couldn't have asked him herself? Not in person, God no – but sent him a calendar invite or emailed him a flier - something that would give him plausible deniability. Something he could ignore, slide into the recycle bin, claim he never received and curse technology. Sorry, Sherry. All this new technology is just tough for me to keep up with. As if he's not got the latest and greatest in hand at all times.
“Are you going?”
Claire is quiet on the other end of the line.
“It would mean a lot to her.”
Leon snorts. “That's a ‘no’.”
Claire's huff is almost lost through the phone, but he can picture her pout well enough. Lord knows he's the cause more often than not.
It's not just that he hates this kind of thing, or that he's still hot off the heels of Benson's death, that the media could have a field day with him showing up to an event like this. If the wrong people hear about this, they'll all be lambasted as nutjob conspiracy theorists. If the wrong people have found out about this, it could get dangerous fast.
Leon does the only thing he can think to. Deflect.
“She shouldn't be doing this shit,” Leon points out. “Raccoon City is still classified.”
He can feel Claire roll her eyes from the other side of the phone. He bites his tongue. Improvement, he thinks. A month ago he would have cut loose, blown this whole conversation up.
“She's not releasing classified info, Leon. It's a memorial.”
“Brass is gonna have a problem with this, and I don't know if I can bail her out.”
“She got it cleared months ago. You'd know if–” Claire stops herself. She's trying, too, he realizes when she swerves around the giant crater that was the way he'd spent a year drinking himself into oblivion. “You’d know if you actually checked your email.”
Damn. She's got him there. Maybe Sherry already tried the calendar invite and the flier. In his mind's eye, she's still 12 years old, ruddy cheeked and gap toothed - clicking clumsily around a computer to make a flier, sending it to him, waiting–
He stops that train of thought, pins the ache in his chest on a recently cracked rib.
“Nobody asks Valentine to go to this shit.”
“Jill's busy.”
“And I'm not?”
“Can you just show up for Sherry?”
“Can't we just take her out for ice cream after or something?”
“She's not–”
Claire pauses on the other end of the line. Leon's not as good at this as he used to be, can't tell if she stopped herself so she doesn't laugh or so she doesn't snap at him.
Inhale. Shaky exhale. He can hear her struggling not to smile.
“She's not a kid anymore.”
He knows that. Of course he knows that. He's seen her in the field. She’s a powerhouse, full-grown and owning it.
Man up, Kennedy, he thinks. Do it for your girls.
The thought sends a jolt skittering across his skin, raises the hair on his arms. He hasn't thought of them like that in years - not sober, at least.
“I'm not sitting on the stage,” he says firmly.
“Me either.”
“And I’m not giving a speech.”
“I don't think it's a media thing,” Claire says, the way one might try to calm a spooked horse. “She just wanted to do something for people like us. It's gonna be low-key.”
Claire has a very different definition of ‘low-key’ than he does, but he hums all the same.
“All right,” he relents. “Send me the details.”
It doesn't take more than a few seconds for his phone to vibrate. She was ready for that, probably planned on sending it to him whether he said yes or no.
She sounds cheerful, reveling in her victory, when she winds up the call with the promise to see him next week. He can count the times Claire has been happy to see him lately on one hand; when he tosses his phone back to his nightstand, he counts that as a win.
The week flies by as if September 30th couldn't get there quick enough. Usually, the week of the 30th dragged - every hour of every day dedicated to a remembrance of the last normal hours of his life. Mourning is on hold for now - he’s saving it all up for Sherry's big event.
Claire texts him a reminder two days before. He types and retypes a response over and over, and somewhere in the revisions he realizes it's not just about him. She doesn't want to do this either. Not alone.
See you there. Ice cream after.
Leon’s locked in now. He prays for work to run long, for an emergency to crop up that sends him across the country - but the office is quiet. He's grateful not to run into Sherry, grateful that he won't have the chance to open his mouth and ruin things. There will plenty of time for that later.
You promised, he tells himself the morning of, phone in hand, debating on calling in sick. His feet are leaden when he dresses, hands heavy at the wheel of his car. He's in a daze the whole day, barely remembers driving to work. If anyone notices, they don't call him on it. He’s ghosting through another September unseen.
But the end of the day forces him back into his body. He'll be late if he sits in his car any longer. The engine turns over despite his prayers. He promised, he tells himself. He can't make them do this alone.
The park Sherry picked out for the memorial service is close to the office. He could walk, but he's not going to limit his options in case things go south, wants the ability to get in his car and bail. Halfway there, he realizes he's been followed. He stays in his car, watching the suburban in the rearview when they pull in a few spots down. Leon only relaxes when a gaggle of kids burst from the sliding door, run off ahead of their mother.
Claire's waiting for him when he hops out. She leans against her bike. Her hair is down - shorter than he remembers. Her thick jacket thrown over the seat of her bike, leaving her in a black turtleneck and a pair of orange corduroys.
“You know it's not formal, right?”
“I'm coming from work. Cut me some slack.”
Claire laughs, ducking her head. She pushes off of her bike and waves for him to follow. She swishes into the park ahead of him, her steps only faltering until he catches up to her side with a handful of long strides. Side by side like this, there’s enough room to slot Sherry in between them. Wherever she is - probably off playing party planner.
He always thought she’d be good at that. Sherry’s good at making sure people are taken care of, making sure they have what they need. She’s got a quiet sort of intensity that can spook people, sure, but she’s fun and exuberant - she could have had a shot at a real life, if things had been different.
She reserved a little gazebo for the event. White chairs in a handful of neat lines, a little charcoal grill off to the side, picnic table lined with candles and framed photos. It’s sweet, the way she’s done everything up. Probably put hours into this, getting things just so. She’s done a good job, honest.
Leon just can't stop checking every angle. He's braced for the sight of a flash - camera or muzzle, he's not sure which would be worse. Couldn't Sherry have picked somewhere more private? Couldn't she have rented out the basement of some bar, given him an excuse not to show? Sorry, Sherry, I'm working on myself - can't put myself through the temptation.
No. Of course not. She'd probably considered that already. The kid is too considerate for her own good. Rented out a gazebo just so no one had to face their demons.
Claire pauses at a row of chairs, gesturing for Leon to sit. He forgets to smile when he tears his eyes away from a suspicious copse of bushes. His hand ghosts against the small of her back, urging her to go first. He needs to be on the end, needs to be able to get to his feet quick when something happens.
If, he reminds himself. If something happens.
Claire slips into her seat without protest. Maybe the occasion has her feeling off, too. He tries not to read into it.
Leon lets out a low whistle as he sinks into his chair. “There's more people than I thought there'd be.”
“I know,” Claire hums. “Sometimes it feels like we're the only ones.”
How many people had been there? How many had been on the streets, had escaped by the skin of their teeth? How many of these people were here to mourn someone who had wasted away before their time?
His eyes lock onto hands and mouths, tries to match them to ones he sees in his dreams. Teeth snapping, hands teasing at him, pulling him under a writhing mass of rot, ichor spilling into his mouth, choking him.
Claire nudges him, leans closer. Her shampoo wafts across him, the stench of decades old decay that stings his eyes soothed by cherries. Her fingers light on his wrist.
“Still doing ice cream after? I know a place.”
If they were here for anyone else, he'd have grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her out to the parking lot. They'd cut the shit, go get ice cream and pretend things weren't complicated. He'd get butter pecan and Claire would tease him for being basic. Ice cream is a fifteen minute treat, but they'd linger until the parlor closed, until the workers were shooting them dirty looks.
But they're here for Sherry. Leon makes himself smile, mouth thinning.
“Yeah. After.”
People file in, some alone, the same haunted look that he wears well, others with whole families. There's maybe thirty people - small number on paper, but packed in like this makes it feel claustrophobic. He scans the crowd for Sherry again and again, searching for a glimpse of her. Claire’s hand stays on his wrist, heavier now. He wishes he could turn his hand and capture hers. He doesn’t know how to.
“She still comin’?” He murmurs to Claire.
“She better. This is her thing,” she grumbles back. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He knew she wasn’t all-in on this whole thing.
Before he can call her on it, Sherry beats down the center aisle, clambering up the steps of the gazebo. Leon clicks his tongue, sits a little straighter. There she is, digging Claire out of a moment of weakness once again.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sherry starts, shuffling note cards in her hands.
Claire lets out a coo under her breath. She leans closer, presses against Leon’s arm to whisper, “she’s so nervous. Look.”
Leon doesn’t need to be directed to see the tremble of Sherry’s fingers, but he looks anyway. Public speaking isn’t the issue, he knows that much - it’s got to be the topic.
Leon sits a little taller. He nudges Claire’s knee with his own, a silent ‘watch this’. He coughs into his fist, louder and longer than necessary.
Sherry tracks the sound instinctively. Her eyes light on them in the crowd. The apples of her cheeks bunch up, smile so wide that she's transformed right back into that little girl he knew, that clung to his hand and swung his arm as they walked down the road. Her words trail off, pause long enough to be noticeable but not to be awkward.
“I’m so grateful that each and every one of you have taken the time to come here tonight,” she continues, her eyes lingering on Leon, flitting back to Claire.
There. That’s his good deed for the month.
“You’re buying,” he whispers to Claire once Sherry’s eyes have finally drifted away.
Claire snorts. She pats his arm. He can see it all over her face - yeah, right.
Yeah, right. His girls are gonna burn an ice cream-shaped hole in his wallet by the end of the night.
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stray bullets
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(a/n): it's been a long time coming, but.....i am beyond excited to share this piece. focused on some early days with kennedy x bucky, i wanted to dig into kennedy and her character (and her fun internal monologue) and introduce exactly how she's connected with bucky - because let's be honest, even she doesn't know how it happened. please enjoy!! :D (also...it's a bit of a long one - i was having some fun haha!)
The silence around the interrogation table was enough to mess with any person's head; whether they were the command pilot, like Lieutenant Bradshaw, or a tail gunner, like Marianne Salinger, they all seemed to sit in reserved quietness as they festered in the happenings of just an hour ago.
Sweat trickled down the sides of her face as she leaned against the wooden table, picking at pieces that were peeling up, trying to keep her eyes away from the maps sprawled out, and that big leather-jacket notebook where Bessie kept all her notes, coordinates and documentation for what planes had gone down - when and where. The other tables were much more lively - louder, chatty, a bit of yelling even. The Silver Bullets table was quiet, and they were all sure it had to do with the notable lack of their flight engineer, who was currently at the Med-Bay, bloodied and unconscious.
Margie Harlowe was on all of their minds it seemed.
And the thought of having to recount the events leading up to that point, made Kennedy want to vomit. The hit had come just as they were on the 90 degree turn to get the bombs ready to drop. Achterberg had taken control of the plane, with Bradshaw and Montez working to guide the B-17 swiftly to the side, as the onslaught of flak and bullets sprayed from the German fighters swinging around above them.
Kennedy remembered the yelp and anguished cry of pain that had come from her headset, the blood-curdling scream for help that had Kennedy forgetting about her .50 cal and racing towards where the top turret was. She couldn't get that look on Margie's face out of her mind; sobbing, horrified, the blood covering half her face, Stagliano trying to calm Margie down the best she could, while waving off the sad excuse of help that Kennedy had been. Freezing up like that, what was she thinking?
"Sergeant Farley." Kennedy's head snapped up - she didn't realize she'd blanked out, staring at the dried blood on her hands, shoved up underneath her fingernails, and had her name being called all at once. She met the eyes of the interrogator and swallowed.
"Lieutenant Bradshaw said you were there when you got Sergeant Harlowe out of the top turret." the interrogator started, "Can you recount that for me?" Kennedy stared at him, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone at the table and some of the surrounding upper brass, on her.
Colonel Harding had stood in the background, hand nervously resting on his upper lip, eyes masked in worry as the group had come in - it seemed whenever something happened to Silver Bullets, he was always at interrogation, especially their table. Making sure wrongs were righted and that whatever was going on, was fixed. He looked out for them.
"I was, sir," Kennedy managed out, shifting a bit, as more sweat dripped down her face, briefly catching the worried look from Judy just a few people down. Her eyes caught on Vivian's gaze opposite her own. She then found Francis watching her, and tried to avoid her emotions that she felt as she noted the ones in their co-pilot's own. The only thing keeping her steady was Lieutenant Bradshaw's presence beside her.
In some innate way, having Lieutenant Bradshaw there kept her from losing it.
"It was quick," Kennedy said, "I figured flak or….something from one of the fighters. German fighters. Bullet spray." Kennedy saw Paulina nod her on encouragingly.
"Sergeant Ratcliff was manning her post….so, I went to Sergeant Harlowe," Kennedy said, her eyes filling with tears, her voice breaking, "I got her out of there. As quick as I could. I…I laid her down. There was blood…..everywhere…." Kennedy trailed off. She was staring at her hands again, covered in blood. Margie's blood.
"I was able to stop the bleeding from both the side of her face and her shoulder. Took what bandage was there and wrapped her shoulder. Set it in a splint." Paulina said quickly, her words firm and much more logically-backed and confident than Kennedy's would ever be, "I ensured that there weren't blocked airways and she could breathe. It was a joint effort, Sergeant Farley and I, to ensure her safety." Kennedy looked to Paulina and gave her a slow nod of thanks, to which Paulina nodded back. Because that's what they did for each other; having each other's backs like this.
"Alright," the interrogator said, making a few extra notes before clearing his throat and looking towards Lieutenant Bradshaw, who was sat there stoic and quiet, "we lost Browning and Alder. How many chutes….?"
Kennedy watched in a reeling bit of slow motion as Judy sat there and recounted the number of chutes she had seen, Marianne and Francis chiming in with their own recounts and visuals. How many more chutes would they have to count, planes going down all around, before this would be over? Before this nightmare would end?
Kennedy looked to the empty chair where Margie would've sat and felt her heart sag and her throat tighten with emotion she had been forcing herself not to feel. It was eerily similar to when Captain Faulkner had taken the hit. When she had died. They still had sat around this stupid interrogation table, having to talk about that mission, about what had happened, with Captain Faulkner's chair left open, her presence highly gone. They all remembered that. It hurt.
Whether it was the fact she was sat at that table, or was used to a constant presence of eyes, she glanced upwards and found, from the middle opening space where some of the brass would linger in times like this, Major Egan watching her, his hands placed on his hips, and his eyes seeking out her own.
Kennedy had never been wrapped up in any sort of long-winded conversation with Major Egan - their differences in rank and formalities were already a larger factor than needed when it came to talking to him and she didn't want to incite any sort of inappropriate ideas past that. They'd debated about baseball a few times - her, a raging Red Sox fan, him a stupid Yankees fan - and they'd even had a few conversations that were outside that realm. But it was never anything much more than that. And she intended to keep it that way. Yet, something in his gaze made her not want to look away from his face, from his eyes, from his presence stood there in the center of the room.
"Sergeant Farley?" She snapped her head away from his eyes and back to the table - many of which of the Silver Bullets girls were currently watching Kennedy with sorrowful and worried expressions, while Lieutenant Bradshaw eyed her curiously.
"Sorry?"
"The number of chutes from Browning. That you saw?" the interrogator asked. Kennedy righted herself and straightened her back.
"Right."
When they were dismissed, after Kennedy had been sat, blanked out for a greater portion of her time there in the seat, Lieutenant Bradshaw had caught her before she could run away, pulling her to the side, with a warm hand on her shoulder and a soft look in her eyes.
"You should go visit her," Annie said quietly, "I can tell by the look in your eye that you won't change out of these clothes or eat until you do." Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw did know her rather well in that sense.
"Yes, ma'am, I will," Kennedy said firmly, reaching up to wipe at the beads of sweat still trickling down her face - whether from the stress still circulating her body or the idea of Margie there on a cot, unconscious, she wasn't sure, "you do the same." Annie watched her with a smile before reaching up to squeeze her shoulder.
"I will, Farley," she said, before patting her shoulder, "and wash up. A few of the girls were planning on heading to the flying club tonight. Destress and all." Kennedy smiled softly and nodded.
"Will do." she said and Annie smiled before turning and heading off - leave it to Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw to instill what comfort they all needed after something like that. Birdie used to do much of the same - Annie even had the same look in her eye as Birdie usually did after a mission. Kennedy smiled slightly.
"Sergeant Farley." The achingly familiar voice struck her system and she turned to her left to find Major Egan walking towards her, as she watched him approach with that slow, even and swaggering gait, his crusher cap a bit lopsided on his head, sweat dropping down the sides of his face, as he wore that stupid, beige sheepskin jacket that she had offhandedly made fun of him for that one time (and proceeded to rub in her face ever since).
"Sir." she said, saluting him quickly as he came to a stop in front of her and shook his head, reaching up to bring her arm down from the position she'd taken up.
"Nah, nah, don't worry about that bullshit," he said and she raised her brows, "Harlowe. Sergeant Harlowe - is she good? Is she alright?" Kennedy stared at him, her heart pulsating inside her chest in a way that made her unable to get her breathing entirely under control. She watched him, tilting her head to the side and then managed to find her footing.
"Not entirely, but she's alive," she said firmly, with a nod, "flak hit up top. Or….stray bullets. Either way, she was hit and knocked out. But she's fine now." Kennedy watched him as she spoke, his eyes refusing to leave her own as he stared down at her, his larger-than-life presence soaking up every part of the view in front of her, the worry in his eyes, covered with that joking nature a slight surprise and the deep breaths he was taking enough to make her fail at controlling her own.
"And yourself?" he asked her, the corner of his lips poking upwards, a smile fighting to be on his face.
"Me? Sir, I, uh, I'm fine," she said quickly, sputtering a bit like a small child, "I'm fine seriously-"
"Good, good," he said quickly - they were pretty quick with whatever they seemed to be talking about here, "just…..when the planes came back and Harding said something about Silver Bullets taking a hit, I thought…..thought the whole goddamn plane had gone down from the way he was fucking talking so." She stared at him. He stopped talking and then stared at her, before running a hand over his face and nodding to her. She stared back at him, unsure of what to say.
For probably the first time in a long time, looking at him, she did not know what to say. This panicked approach to this sudden stillness and quiet. There were voices all around them, nurses bustling about with medics and doctors, and pilots with their crews meandering away from interrogation like limp horses, dragging gear that was nothing but a pile of garbage behind them. And the smells - like gasoline, smoke and death wafted through the air, enough to make a person want to vomit. She needed to go see Margie, and she was beyond sure that Major Egan had somewhere better to be as well. Kennedy wanted to move her feet, but she couldn't. No part of her was moving or even ready to move. Major Egan was stock-still in front of her as well.
"Is there….something else, uh, sir?" Kennedy didn't know what to do with Major Egan sometimes - call him sir, but he told her not to bother? Call him sir because he was the one who held rank? Major Egan continued to watch her and then ran a hand down his slightly sweaty face and shook his head.
"No." he said quickly, firmly, "You should get a check on Sergeant Harlowe. Make sure she's alright when she wakes up." If she wakes up, Kennedy thought, but that sour idea in her mind disappeared as Major Egan nodded to her. She stared at him for a moment longer, before she slowly nodded to him, turning away from him. She took a few steps before she could hear his footsteps and feel the placement of his hand wrapped around her elbow.
"Farley," he said, his voice quieter, as she stopped her paces and turned, her eyes searching his own as she looked at him, "seriously, you alright?" She stared at him, slightly surprised at the way his voice had grown softer, his eyes less vibrant than normal.
"Yes," she told him, but as he tilted his head towards her, she felt her heart race a bit faster than normal and couldn't help but take a shaky step back from him, "it was just a lot today that's all. But it's a lot every day. Nothing new. Can't complain." Major Egan watched her, like he was trying to diagnose whatever the fuck was currently wrong with her, acting like she didn't just watch their flight engineer and closest companion almost die.
"You like the jacket?" he asked her quietly, and it didn't take long for what stress she had in her mind and heart to roll back into that violent ocean crawl of waves and a small laugh to leave her lips.
"Is that why you came waltzing over here?" she asked him, her voice low, as she crossed her arms, "Because if that's all this was about, I'm just going to head to the Med-Bay now." Major Egan let out a dry chuckle and looked to her.
"And if I told you it was?"
"I would happily discard that jacket for you, even start a bonfire." she said, "We could get real fancy." She stared at him. "It looks ridiculous."
"You sure about that?" he said, popping up the collar, which made her roll her eyes, "I think it fits me pretty well."
"I would beg to differ," she said, "seriously, an A-2 would do you one better."
"You going sweet on me, Farley?"
"Since when did that idea get into your head?"
"You like me in my A-2, admit it."
"It would look better than that shitty thing."
"C'mon, Farley, don't leave me hangin' now." She raised a brow at him as she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked his way.
"Goodbye, John." she said, with a grin, turning away, only to have him placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her back around. She looked up at him.
"For someone so hellbent on making his rounds, you sure seem to like hanging around me." she said quietly, with a small smile, watching as his eyes seemed to twinkle in the hazy afternoon sunlight.
"Consider it a compliment." he offered her.
"A compliment?" she said with a small smile, "Didn't know you handed those out. And for free?"
"Farley…." he said with a slight groan in his voice that made her laugh as she reached forward and nudged his shoulder.
"It's okay to admit that, Margie says I'm a grand friend to have anyway," she said, watching his gaze soften at her, "it means a lot, truly."
"Friend's a word." he said with a shrug, his face tensing up slightly as she stared at him.
"Yeah." she said, with a nod, "And so is goodbye." He stared at her and she smiled up at him.
"I'm only kidding," she said, before her face fell a bit, "seriously, you okay? You weren't even on the mission and you look seriously fucked up." Kennedy had hoped that keeping up with this banter, this light-hearted, dare she call it flirting, maybe would lift his worrisome and lonely spirits, but he seemed drawn into himself and concave again and she wasn't sure what more to say.
Hey, even going as far to compliment his physique's correlation to an A-2 was pretty nice of her!
And something she wasn't actually lying about - not like she had spent too long staring at his broad shoulders over breakfast the other day (but no one except her knew).
"Didn't know you handed out compliments with a side of self-degradation, now huh?" he said and she let out a scoff and crossed her arms to look at him again.
"Seriously, John, what's wrong?"
"You can call me, Bucky, remember?"
"John."
"Nothing's wrong. Nothing, just…." he looked around, that lazy smile on his face, and looked back at her, hands rested on those hips of his again and looked to her, "does anything have to be wrong when I come to talk to you?"
"Usually there is something wrong."
"Kennedy-"
"Alright, look," she said, "if you don't budge, I'm gonna head to the Med-Bay, check in on Margie." She was playing her emotions really well, so well she had almost forgotten the mission altogether.
"So, you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to decode it from you myself? Beg on my hands and knees? Don't make me look that pathetic." Major Egan watched her with a slight smirk and she shoved his shoulder again.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like whattt?" he said as she rolled her eyes with a laugh, "Oh, c'mon, Kennedy, I'm supposed to hear that Silver Bullets took a hit and not think about you?"
Kennedy's smile dropped and it seemed the realization hit Major Egan at the same time and for a moment, they were just standing there, staring at each other like deer in headlights. She couldn't look away from his eyes, because for the first time there was something more than besides his usually flirty, joking self. Hell, that was just how he normally was - no stake in the ground with a soul, moving with the wind, taking him where the Lord put him, all that bullshit. For a second, she almost thought she wasn't hearing him straight and was going to leave it at that. But no, he'd said that and she was sure her face matched the color of her dirtied ginger hair and her strawberry-blonde ends.
"Egan!" The two turned from each other, in what had been a…rather intense stare down and found Crank coming towards him, "Harding needs us!"
"Give me a fucking second, Crank! I'm talking here!" Major Egan yelled back before turning to her and gulping, before parting his lips as if to speak. She stared at him still, unable to find the words that would amount to much of anything.
"Don't give me lip, Bucky - look, we gotta go!" Major Egan turned.
"Just a minute, Crank, seriously." Major Egan called out before turning to her still stood there.
"You really should go." she finally said, her voice somewhat hoarse as she did so, like she couldn't get the words out right, "Colonel Harding-"
"I don't care what Harding thinks right now," he said firmly looking at her, "look, Farley, I-"
"It's fine." she said quickly, plastering on a smile quickly and a nod, "I'm fine." Major Egan looked far from convinced in that moment. Because she wasn't convinced herself.
He had heard Silver Bullets took a hit and suspected immediately it was her?
That's why he had looked at her like that?
In interrogation?
She wasn't much to him, so she thought, at least - what…the few conversations they'd share? She'd practically egged him on into conversations about baseball where it was less of a discussion and more of a debate. If anything, he should've heard Silver Bullets and suspected about Annie or Francis.
"Go on," she said, shoving down her feelings and emotions, offering a small smile, "Colonel Harding sounds like he really needs to talk to you. Plus, if you must continue to talk about your stupid sheepskin, I'll be at the flying club later. Maybe I'll even beat you in darts. Again." Major Egan stared at her, for the first time, a little wordless and nodded.
"Kennedy, I-"
"It's fine." she said, convincing herself the very same - if she acted like she didn't hear it from his lips, then it never happened. He never said those words, never looked at her like that, never even bothered to tell her he was worried about her after hearing about Silver Bullets getting hit. If she ignored it, it wasn't what had happened.
And it was better that way.
"Bucky-"
"A second, Crank, please!" Major Egan yelled over his shoulder again, before looking at her and sighing, jabbing a thumb behind him.
"I gotta…." he started, his words fading as he managed a weak smile at her.
"Yeah, yeah," she said quickly, with a nod, and a forced smile.
"Let me know how Harlowe is…?"
"I will." she said as he began to backpedal backwards, his eyes holding hers still. Then, she watched Crank come up to Major Egan's shoulder and spin him around before pointing and frantically talking. Then they were walking away and disappeared. Kennedy stood there like the wind had just been taken out of her sail. Why'd she act like that?
"Hey! Kenny!" Kennedy turned and found Judy coming up to her, with Bessie and Carrie behind her, splitting a few cookies in their hands, "Here you are. We thought we couldn't find you." Kennedy stared at Judy, who came up beside her, with bright eyes, before looking to Bessie and Carrie, who shared a look before looking at Kennedy.
"You alright, Farley?" Bessie asked her, glancing in the general direction of where Major Egan had wandered off to, "What'd Bucky want?" Kennedy snapped into her usual collected self (which took far more effort today than usual) and ran a hand over her hair, cringing at bit at the smell of oil and grease that followed - which undoubtedly Major Egan had smelled - and sighed.
"Heard about Margie." she said firmly, cooly, kind of quick at that, like she couldn't get the words out fast enough to cover her ass, "He knows we're close and wanted to check in. Make sure things were okay."
"Always sticking his nose into all our bullshit," Carrie muttered, crunching off a piece of the sugar cookie and shaking her head, "you know I heard the other day he was trying to ask Bradshaw for a tour of Silver Bullets. Next thing you know, I'm tearing into him, telling him he touches my area, my shit, it's over for him-"
"He just wanted to make sure she was okay, Bergie," Kennedy said with a shrug, "guess it just gets old, hearing about losing people. Over and over."
"Especially someone from Silver Bullets." Judy finished for her, "Bucky's always been sweet as peaches to me, anyway. It's mighty kind of him to come and check up on you. Knowing how close you two are. He's got an awful soft-spot for Silver Bullets."
"Some soft spot." Carrie said with a slight chuckle and smirk, glancing at Kennedy, who rolled her eyes, ignoring the looks, and glanced back to the direction of where Major Egan had gone.
"Let's go to the Med-Bay," Judy said, "I'm sure Margie would want to see us when she wakes."
"What this face?" Carrie said, "We all look like sorry excuses for circus clowns."
"At least a little flak never scared off that charisma, Bergie." Bessie said as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the whole group burst into chuckles as they headed towards the Med-Bay, sharing cookies and smiles.
But all that was on her mind, until the hit the Med-Bay doors was that Major Egan had thought of her, when Silver Bullets was said to have gotten a nasty hit.
Her.
#SCREAMING#these two......#alexa play delicate by taylor swift#LIKE KENNEDY#GIRL#insane these two#I LOVE THEM#kennedy x bucky#kennedy farley#john egan#bucky egan#bucky egan x oc#john egan x oc#masters of the air#mota#mota writings#silver bullets#LISTEN.....i have so many ideas for them and this one popped into my mind and i've been so excited to share it#like....kennedy#HE THOUGHT OF YOUUUUU#'is it chill that you're in my head' - like CLEARLY NOT YOU'RE FREAKING TF OUT#annie bradshaw#francis montez#paulina stagliano#vivian ratcliff#margie harlowe#judy rybinski#marianne salinger#bessie carlisle#carrie achterberg
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Don't Blame Me (Pt 3/5)
Dean Winchester x Reader
Dean confronts Crowley who recounts exactly what did happen to you, sparing no details to Dean's horror. You look for a way to ward yourself from Dean finding you.
Dean was half in shock when you blinked out. You were alive? When he looked at Crowley he knew the anger he felt showed in his eyes because the demon took a step back even before Dean grabbed him, slamming him back into a wall. "BRING HER BACK"
Crowley shook his head slowly "I didn't send her a way and I try not to summon her. She gets upset, it causes a mess. She killed ten demons the first time I summoned her and let's just say I like keeping her as calm as possible"
Dean shook his head before pulling the demon blade up to hold the point against Crowleys neck "Last time I saw her she was getting on a plane. What the fuck did you do to her?" Crowley laughed sharply "What did I do? Squirrel you should really ask what did you do?"
Dean's grip loosened at Crowleys words "What do you mean what Dean did?" Sam asked as Crowley untangled himself from Dean's grasp. Crowleys eyes were on Dean when he said "She made a deal. I didn't go after her soul. It was already in hell"
Dean shook his head "She wouldn't. Y/N knows the risks" Crowley shrugged "and yet she did for you" "for me?" Dean asked and Crowley sighed "This is dramatic. Her soul already went to hell so contract fulfilled. She's gonna try to kill me but.." before Dean or Sam could ask Crowley touched two fingers to Dean's forehead. Flashes of an Okami, pain of claws ripping into his chest and the heartbreaking sound of your sobs tore through Dean's head.
"She couldn't face losing you so she made a deal. Be glad I took over when I did. Lucifer and his flunkies were having fun with your girl" "She wouldn't agree to be a demon" Sam argued but Crowley shrugged "A little over four hundred years of torture. A hundred of those were under Lucifer and Zachariah. She's stronger than most of the souls in hell but the things they did to her.." he trailed off and Dean could feel his jaw clench with anger even before Crowley met his eyes "No angelic interference for her, guess she wasn't important enough. I needed an attack dog. Someone who if they were spotted working at my side the threats were taken seriously"
"So you've been using her?" Sam asked. Crowley scoffed "I gave her freedom from the racks. I put her body back together so she'd have it. I made sure to keep her off the angels radar. I've gotten her to kill a few dozen demons but nothing she wouldn't have done in life. How the hell have I been using her? Would you two prefer me to have left her to an eternity of whatever being decided to plunge a blade or other things into her?"
Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat at Crowleys words and the images that accompanied them to ask "Why didn't she let me know?" and Crowley laughed again "Did you not see that little performance? She was afraid you'd hate her so she stayed off the beaten path" "Then why did you bring her here tonight?" Sam demanded.
"She's wrong for lack of better terms. She shouldn't care like she still does, shouldn't have so much left of her human personality. Her soul was stronger than I gave it credit for. If she stays a demon she's gonna e a threat to my throne" Dean swung without thinking and connected a hard punch to Crowleys jaw "You've kept her from me for years, YEARS. and now you're only telling me so she can't dethrone you? The only reason I'm not killing you is so you can help me find her"
Ireland, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand and South America. It was hard to find a coven that would play well with a demon, let alone one marked by the king of hell as his right hand woman but you finally did.
You sat in the middle of the circle, watching the woman paint sigils onto your skin. Once she was done she rejoined the circle. You sat silently as they chanted, the sigil glowing then absorbing into your skin. You looked at the head witch "No one can summon me now?" She nodded "Your boss can probably still get a feed on where you are but no one can summon you" you paid her the fee and thanked the rest of the coven before blinking out. You were back in Washington state, almost at the Canadian line.
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You had a cabin there, somewhere you stayed when Crowley didn't need you at his side. Somewhere you were able to ignore everything that had happened. You weren't right as a demon. They weren't supposed to feel, weren't supposed to care yet here you were.
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You washed your face then looked at yourself in the mirror letting your eyes slip to black. Even as a demon you were held together by paperclips and rubber bands. The memory of the look on Dean's face flashed through your head and you smashed the mirror. What the hell were you supposed to do now?
@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898 @starkleila
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x female!reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#dont blame me mini series
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s6 episode 11 thoughts
seems that this one will be a mytharc two parter. i anticipate that mulder will be a pain today. may he prove me wrong.
(this episode has been marked SAFE from cranky mulder! 🎊)
how’s everyone doing? things could definitely be better! but it’s mulder and scully time, which is so important to keep in your schedule, especially when the world looks dark.
i am intrigued to hear about where cassandra spender has been, and what her son will have to say on the matter… and if she can confirm if CSM is really his father!
(post-episode thoughts: this was another one where so much was happening, it was a bit hard to follow. but. the good thing is that we saw them be losers together. which is always so important to me. also, i definitely saw some spender/krycek tension there, and had a glimpse into a world where the fanfics abound. is that a pairing people write? it just seems to have so much potential from the 2 scenes they had. i was already imagining exactly how that fanart would get drawn. it came to me so clearly. now, whether or not anyone else sees it... you'll have to let me know, because i just got here)
let us begin.
we open with a monitor beeping and people in hazmat suits. oh god. was this a bad idea to watch with an upset stomach? well, they’re slicing into this person’s belly, and the green gas blood comes out. and then it immediately heals!! they must have gotten their hands on a real alien!!! in a railroad car in virginia. sure. where else would you do it? /s
oooo, the people from that evil biological company are here…. and so is a guy named dr. openshaw. his work has been completed, says this guy.
“25 years. she must seem like an old friend” “yes” (he holds her hand) <- ohh. i don’t like that. friends do not abduct and experiment upon each other.
the others from the team are going out to celebrate, but dr. openshaw will not. did he turn cassandra spender full alien??
wait, what the hell just happened? it’s so dark. allow me to go back a few seconds.
the other guy walked out to go celebrate, and one of the faceless aliens lit him on fire!!! and then the others in the car, too!! he comes in after the doctor and lights HIM on fire as well!!!! but he doesn’t touch cassandra spender… she’s just laying there….
oooo, spooky!
cue intro time!!
i haven’t really thought about the faceless aliens and their colonial resistance efforts since the last mytharc episode. i kinda forgot about them as a whole, especially after FTF. but they’re back, and i hope they win… i think i hope they win, i mean? because they're supposed to be the only hope of resistance against colonization, right? but who is to say they don't have their own ulterior motives?? so maybe i shouldn't hope they win.
we get a full length intro!!! woohoo!!!
CSM is lighting up… saying this is the end. and it was unimaginable. and he begins to recount. we had a perfect conspiracy with an alien race who wished to destroy all human life. and they were going to prepare the way for their invasion. to create for them a slave race of human-alien hybrids. and they had been kept secret for 50 years from men like mulder. plans that would have worked. EXCEPT. a rebel alien race came to destroy them.
is he talking to spender here….?
“had not my own son chosen betrayal. or chosen to betray more wisely”
OH???? i thought he was explaining the secret plot to spender, but it seems he already figured that out on his own….
now what is afoot here? spender redemption arc?? CSM is over party???
like with FTF, it feels so wrong to hear anyone from the syndicate just talk openly about their plans. you guys have to use weird metaphors and cover stories! you can't just SAY all that!! it will give me tonal whiplash!
in the basement, spender is scribbling notes, when skinner arrives!! yay skinner :) he is writing a progress report, and skinner says he didn’t know they had made any progress on the x files, LMAO
oooo, i see my boy krycek will be featured today…
(i don't know why i said that, to be honest. he is not "my boy". i don't even like him, let alone claim him in any capacity. but i did notice the name in the credits, which i guess is what i was TRYING to say)
ooOOOo, skinner says he knows spender doesn’t give a damn about the x files EXCEPT for his mother’s case. TELL HIM! and that is what he came here to talk about. oh no...
wow. to be a fly on the wall of the car ride during which skinner drove spender down to this… flaming train wreck scene. to find his mother. bet that made the list of top 10 most tense rides in history.
no one knows what happened in the train car, and only cassandra survived (with the exception of dr. openshaw). spender wants to know what THE FUCK happened. can’t blame him.
he goes to see her!! she smiles at him. and he gets close to her. it's kinda sweet. it would be very sweet if it weren't him.
and she asks to speak to agent mulder, LMAOOOOOOO, i know spender wanted to PUNCH A WALL when she said that!!!!!! oh!!! i actually giggled.
skinner starts to walk away. spender’s whining about "wAh, aGeNt muLDer iS FoRBidDen frOM SeEiNg hEr" and skinner does not give a fuck, LMAOOO.
“are you afraid of the truth?” <- OHHH?? has skinner become a believer in the alien conspiracy?? i had imagined him not taking any particular sides- BUT he did say that nearly dying has caused him to reevaluate that plan.
“i want to know who did this to her and why, that’s all i want.” “then why not use every resource available to you?” <- OHHH YEAH!!! use your scary gruff AD voice, skinner!!!! i cheered!!!
CSM is narrating again… he says his son refuses to believe his mother was abducted. even after CSM had him put in charge of the x files, which had so much evidence of their plans, he couldn’t accept it. and when he did come to believe, he turned not to his father, “but to the man i’d ruined”
(cut to a sweaty mulder playing basketball)
LMAOOOOO, i’m sorry. i didn’t know he went out and played rec league games with the boys. this makes me really happy. he needs social interaction.
(i don't even think the dudes he was playing with particularly liked him or had met him before, which kind of makes this even funnier. bro knows no one and does nothing but study aliens)
AND THEY CALL HIM "MILK" LMAOOO
but scully comes to the gym to get him!! so he needs to use his seduction skills and shoot a 3
“hey, homegirl, word up” <- WE NEED TO JAIL THIS MAN, LMAOOOOOOOOOO
“mulder, it’s my distinct impression that you just cheated” <- GET HIS ASS!!!! 🔥
he’s been skipping work!!! going to the gym instead!!! and scully came to see him because someone wants him back very badly!! to talk about an x file!!!
i’m smiling so hard; that was such a silly scene. and i had seen it in GIFs before, but it was very enjoyable to see live. also, very funny that she knew to find him there, OR she called him and asked where he was and then just. left work to come fetch him. both are entertaining options to consider.
WOAH WOAH, mulder does NOT want to see spender, LMAO: “you looking for work, agent spender? because if you are, i got a whole pile in that middle drawer that i’d love to shove down someone’s throat” <- DAAAAMN. he does not forget and forgive. can’t blame him, tbh.
his mother’s been gone for nearly a year. and when she turns up, she’s been operated on, and all the doctors burned alive.
“the truth is out there, agent spender. maybe you should find it for yourself” <- SO ARE YOU GONNA HELP OR NOT???
he just wants to choose the exact right words to piss this man off. in a way, i respect that. that's what having an annoying coworker is about.
spender furiously walks away.
down at the hospital, we see dr. openshaw from before!! he’s on life support in a big tube!!! and CSM is here to see him. he says he has been tidying things up at the train yard. dr. openshaw is covered in horrible horrible horrible burns, omg.
he tells CSM that she is a success, which he finds hard to understand. “they saved her to expose us”. hmm……
CSM says he won’t let her out of their hands. and dr. openshaw says she must be terminated. CSM looks…. sad.
dr. openshaw, your burns are so freakishly realistic, i need to thank the prop team, take a deep and grounding breath, and not pass out
CSM says he’s sorry and TURNS OFF THE LIFE SUPPORT MACHINE??? so they can’t question dr. openshaw
he says “a man should never live long enough to see his children or his work destroyed” <- does he consider the alien hybrids his CHILDREN?? yuck.
well. that was dark.
CSM calls some guy on the phone to break the news that the project doctors have been killed. and he has called an emergency syndicate meeting. who is this man he speaks to? have i seen him before? am i supposed to know him? if i am, i must confess that i do not recall. sorry.
WAIT! CSM just told this guy i have never seen before that dr. openshaw is dead, but now he’s at this dude’s door!! it must be an alien!!
HE RIPS HIS FACE OPEN?????? AND THEN FAKE DR. OPENSHAW LIGHTS THIS DUDE ON FIRE???
i am so glad i did not watch this episode yesterday when i felt even worse, omfggggg. the SQUELCHING noise…
mulder is at his desk at work. late at night. there’s a woman on his deck of post it notes. anyone know what that is about?
he is looking at photos of the train scene. and the terribly burnt bodies!! how did he get these images? from kersh, somehow?
why is scully here late at night, too?!! she says she didn’t expect to see him here because spender offered him an x file assignment. mulder clarifies it wasn’t an offer. he thinks it’s a set up!!! and that if he moves forward, the powers that be will come down on him in full force!! i can’t blame his suspicion, tbh. they've been getting in a lot of trouble lately.
scully sees the images on his computer. “we’ve seen this before”. good LORD, look at the way he’s looking up at her. holy hell. i’m somewhat shocked, and i have watched 6 seasons now of him looking at her. he's not beating the gazing allegations.
scully repeats that they’ve seen this before, and that this could possibly lead them to who took her and performed those experiments on her. mulder looks deeply conflicted… she tells him spender doesn’t have to know. ooo, scully advocating for sneaking around!
(i thought he would want to square up immediately with whoever it was that took her, but i understand his caution as well, because it does seem a little TOO perfect to all be lining up at this particular time)
scully goes to see her!!! cassandra is so happy to talk to her; omg, she hugs her!! and scully explains to the nurse that she is an old friend!! scully asks if she would like a wheelchair so they can go outside, and she says she doesn’t need one!!! she just… gets up and walks!!
but she does want a cigarette. LMAO. queen.
scully is gagged. the nurse from her room is following them out.
cassandra says she won’t tell anybody what she saw except agent mulder, and scully says she has a surprise.
(cassandra opens the door and yells excitedly) "agent mulder?!??" (he frantically shushes her) LMAOOOO
“i think i’m gonna pee the floor” “don’t… don’t do that” <-BAHAHAHA, top-tier mulder reaction
she starts to talk about how when they last saw each other, he was doubting he’d ever see his sister again. and when scully brings up the fact that he thought he did see her (which means they've talked about it!), cassandra says it wasn’t really her. samantha is “out there, with them. the aliens”
(pause for her to light up while mulder looks incredibly pained)
scully tries to redirect. so, you were found in a train car- what was that whole thing about? great question, scully! cassandra says it wasn’t the doctors who cured her; it was the aliens. the doctors were working with the aliens.
she had told him the aliens were here for good- but now, she knows they aren’t! they want to wipe the humans off the planet and take over the planet.
“infecting all other life forms with a black substance called purity” <-THE ALIEN OIL HAS A NAME?!?!?! TO ME IT HAS JUST BEEN THE BLACK ALIEN OIL FOR SO LONG!!! this is a game-changer
it’s what the aliens are made of. interesting.
she says that a rebel force attacked the doctors, and this rebel force mutilated their faces so they won’t get infected.
she couldn’t tell her son, even though he is in danger, because he wouldn’t believe her!! he’s in danger because he is in with the men who did this to her and scully.
“and you know who these men are?” “oh, sure. one of them’s my ex-husband” <- CSM LORE?!?!?!?!?! is his name gonna be something like walter?!?!
CSM narrates again. cassandra was realizing she was the culmination of 50 years of work and the center of all the alien plans. and he killed to keep people from learning about her. “when it’s cassandra i should have killed… cassandra who needed to die” <- hey. don’t like the way you’re saying that, buddy.
he admits he couldn’t do it, even though he never loved her, because she was the mother of his son. which is... gross.
the faceless aliens used their powers of disguise to infiltrate the syndicate…
CUT TO KRYCEK! or is it really him….? he’s making a presentation to the syndicate. so are they back to being friends again? he says something about "our" research bases and i'm thinking, oh, i didn't realize this was an "our" sort of situation; didn't you just try to sabotage everyone?!
OOOO, the guy from the syndicate who was (presumably) killed by the alien who took dr. openshaw’s face, and is now presumably also an alien, proposes joining the resistance to the squad!! they don't fully buy it.
krycek asks about their vaccines. and the time they’ve bought. and he throws bill mulder’s name in there, too. which seems excessive.
CSM says we can’t sacrifice ourselves for every new threat…. hmm. much to ponder.
tbh, i’m a little confused. like krycek is working for these guys now? he said “our” alien research facilities were destroyed. but you were just in russia... and then you tried to backstab everyone with marita... you know what? i’m not gonna worry about it ❤️ the ways of krycek cannot be understood
the agents have snuck into the basement office that rightfully belongs to them, but has been given to spender and diana!
clicky clicky those keys, mulder….
CSM NAME REVEAL: C.G.B. Spender.
unfortunately, this doesn’t clear much up, as this replaces a 3 letter series of initials with a new one, but it is fun trivia for someone like me!
OH NOOOO!!! SKINNER CAUGHT THEM!!!!!!! “get up from the desk. get up, turn the computer off, grab whatever you took or printed out, and give it to me” ohhhh….. is he going to yell at them?
scully looks SHOCKED- are they going to be in trouble? but mulder is lowkey mogging over there, lmao
he says we need to go NOW!!! skinner had their back!!!
BUT NO!!! they run into spender!!! who says he will make note that they trespassed into his office in their dismissal report!!!
buddy. it doesn’t sound like your dad can save you at this point.
speak of the devil, spender goes into his father’s office to tell him that mulder has been brought up to his superiors. and he and scully will be removed from the FBI!!! but now he wants to ask CSM a favor.
he says he thinks he’s entitled to the truth about his mother. and CSM says maybe it’s better not to know.
CSM says he needs to prove he can handle the knowledge, which causes spender to say “don’t try me, old man”, and CSM SLAPS HIM ACROSS THE FACE?!!!! he says he gave him the job, which he cannot even do, and spender replies “keeping fox mulder down is not a job, it’s your dirty work” and CSM SLAPS HIM AGAIN!!! HARDER!!!
“you pale to fox mulder” <- OHHHHHHHHH. those are fighting words.
mulder is back at the gym. and scully comes in!!! with a big box!!!! while he dribbles!!!!
unemployment activities for them <3
“scully, you wanna go one-on-one? we’ve got nothing but time now that we’re on administrative leave” <- LMAOOO
“aren’t you curious what i’ve got in the box?” yeah, that is so Them. that whole exchange is them boiled down into 2 lines.
they’re going through top secret content in this random gym. good for them!!!
what is in the box...? it’s a photo of CSM and mr. mulder!!! in 1973!! she found out they worked together for 25 years at the state department!!
tbh, i didn't think it looked like either of them in the picture, but, you know. whatever.
she waits for him to say he’s ready before she goes on… oh scully, you are so kind… trying to give him time to process his whole world being rocked… <3
cassandra was first abducted november 27th, 1973- the same day samantha was!!
and there are names connecting them, like nobel winner in genetics dr. openshaw!!!
CSM narrates that mulder was now armed with names and dates and he would learn their sins. his father’s and his own.
CSM had one chance to save his legacy….
he gets out of the car to talk to his son. he says he has a new job for spender, saying he deserves a fighting chance. he hands him one of those alien neck popping needles!!! he says he needs to use that on one of the men in the syndicate!!! the one who proposed rebellion!!
i do not predict spender being able to hit that very specific spot and not get gassed by the blood that emerges… is this a death trap?
CSM says you are to talk to this guy and then put that in the back of his neck. and then he says “you can do it, jeffery”, which is crazy. the weaponization of his first name...
spender gets in the car, and krycek is the driver!! he says “watch where you point that” <- yeah, i bet you’re freaked tf out, ratboy
is CSM sending his son to the wolves….?
krycek brings spender to the maryland house where the guy we saw before lives and got eaten by a faceless rebel… and spender goes to chat with the fellow. he rings the doorbell and gets an answer. he says his father sent him. so do these people know he's CSM's son?!
the guy welcomes him in, saying he has a message from the group. spender is eyeing his neck. he hands him a paper with a name on it… he drops it… and when he tries to stab the guy as he picks it up, he gets choked out!!
AUGH!!!! he rips the dude’s face off!!! but krycek comes behind and shoves the needle in!!!!
guess it was good he was there to make sure the job got done. now i want to know if people were shipping spender and krycek.
mulder opens his apartment door for skinner!!! who is not allowed to talk to them, but is here anyway!!
mulder is in a sweater and jeans, and it’s super strange, but not entirely a bad thing. just unusual. he explains to skinner that there is a plan to make alien-human hybrids as a slave race once the aliens take over, and that scully found files with proof. yay, scully!!!
skinner is GAGGGGGGED to hear that CSM is spender’s father LMAOOOO!!!! he’s like, you believe this scully?!?
mulder’s talking fast, saying scully has her doubts about the nature of the experiments, but she believes that she was taken and used in them regardless of what exactly they were. and i would have loved to hear what her own answer would have been.
if cassandra was a successful experiment, why would she be in danger? skinner asks a good question. mulder says because the men who did the creating would rather kill her than let her expose them
“she’s under 24-hour guard” “assigned by agent spender?” (a look of "oh no" crosses skinner’s face)
meanwhile, spender is still sitting there in the house in maryland, over the dead alien, watching the green blood gas bubble out (how is it not killing him?), while krycek asks if he’s never seen one before. and yes, people definitely shipped these two. i see it very clearly now, as krycek explains how hard it is to understand the existence of aliens, but he must accept the responsibility the knowledge demands.
“the great sacrifice by great men like your father” “what sacrifice?” “the sacrifice of your mother” <- OHHHH, krycek i fear you weren’t supposed to say that. or maybe he’s plotting. that man is always plotting. he explains she’s been the subject of experiments for 25 years, and when spender is shocked his father is involved, krycek hits him with the “your father DIRECTS the experiments” <- OHHHH SHOOT!! turn them against each other!!
spender realizes he’s protecting her so the experiments can continue, which is why he got placed on the x files. krycek is def trying to turn them against each other. and he calls him JEFF?!
spender says he’ll be his own great man and leaves.
there was a wild tension there. maybe there is a wild tension with everyone krycek uses as a pawn. i will be thinking about it at length.
CSM says he trusts no one. “treachery is the inevitable result of all affairs” okay, that sounds big and fancy! he knows his son’s disloyalty… and that he led mulder and scully to them…. and he’s talking to someone… asking if this person knows why he’s chosen them…
is it diana??? OH YUP, IT IS. she says she’ll help him, and it’s not too late to stop what has been started. which i guess is making sure the aliens become our overlords.
skinner is visiting cassandra, and of course, she is gone from her hospital bed. spender rushes in, and says “he” took her.
she found scully and mulder??? somehow?!! and someone is now pounding at their door?? cassandra grabs his gun and says "kill me now. you have to shoot me…. or it all starts…" and he pulls out the gun… and tells scully to stand back…… scully says what are you doing, we have to protect her…?! and then the screen goes BLACK….
girl, WHAT!
there is simply so much going on.
first of all…. i still don’t like spender. sorry. i don’t quite think they’re trying to give him a redemption arc per se, but i still think he’s pretty spineless.
second of all… diana. i predict some negative consequences of her interacting with mulder. mulder likes to be all “trustno1”, but boy, does he love to trust people. hopefully now that he realizes he’s in love with scully, he at least won’t try to hold her hands again, because. ew. do not fall for her tricks!!! i seriously am warning you, man!!
maybe we’ll get some answers as to what brought her back to DC, though, which could be interesting. maybe she was specifically brought back by CSM for this very purpose. it wouldn't surprise me at all. does she think she is doing the right thing? or is she just going full evil mode?
i tend to be the defender of overhated female characters, but. idk. i don't really feel like picking up my sword to defend diana's honor. but i suppose i don't know the full story yet, so maybe i will want to do this eventually.
scully lugging that big box into the gym… yeah <3 she said "oh, i know a spot!!!" (proceeds to go to some obscure governmental archive and piece together a 50 year old conspiracy like she’s making a page in a scrapbook)
and i love that for her!!!
and she was so happy to see cassandra again :,) when she turned to the nurse and announced that she was an old friend i was like “oh!!! 🥺”
and then when she was giving mulder life-changing information, she wanted to make sure he was okay before she kept telling him MORE life-changing information... she is such a good friend <3
i love when mulder is a dweeb. what did he call his job? a "jagoff shoeshine assignment"? nerd! nerd! but he is a morally conflicted nerd, you see, because he wants to find the truth of course, but the truth seems to be revealing itself at a time during which many people want him in trouble. so it makes sense to be cautious.
and skinner! skinner was giving spender hell, but also was the one who had to tell him his mother was back, but then PROCEEDED to give him more hell when he was going on about needing to keep mulder away from her. lmao. and then he nearly was able to prevent the agents from being caught, but alas. he was too late. still, he must have a sixth sense for when those two are committing crimes and need to be stopped. the way they paused when they saw him, because they weren't sure if he was helping them or going to scold them...
i think this about covers all of my thoughts on this episode, except for on the weird predator and prey animal sort of relationship going on between krycek and spender, which is its own beast. curious to see where it goes, and if mulder really does indeed shoot cassandra. and if diana will really become the disciple of CSM.
#normally i like to add extra thoughts in the tags but tonight i am too cold! it is so cold! i must go get cozy under 800 blankets!#i am sure you understand!#as always please tell me what you thought of the episode. i am curious!#juni's x files liveblog#6x11#the x files#txf
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Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Dream and Ponk discuss their experiences with Sam
@sixteenth-day-event "What happened to your arm?"
The question came out of nowhere. It was an impulse. A stupid one. Dream wasn't really expecting a response.
Surprisingly, Ponk's eyes blinked open. They weren't red anymore (thank god), but they were fuzzy and unfocused still. Several seconds ticked by before Ponk managed to rasp out a response.
"Sam."
It was just one word, but it was the most that Dream had gotten out of him so far. He would dismiss it as a quirk of timing, but from Punz's recounting, talking about shit had helped ground him and pull him back from the Egg. Alright. So Dream just needed to keep this going.
"Weren't you two dating?" He could swear he remembered that. Ponk huffed a dry laugh.
"Were. Broke up af'er he cut m' fuckin' arm 'ff."
"That uh- makes sense." Great. A+ conversation. God fucking dammit. Okay, refocus here.
"Was there like, a reason? Or did he just get bored?" That sounded harsher than he meant for it to, but too late now.
Ponk's gaze went hazy for a moment, too far maybe? Before he managed to shake his head, bringing himself back down.
"Stole the prison keys. Wasn't eve' tryin' to do much. He'd been ignorin' me. Thought it was funny. Thought I might go visit you or somethin'. He freaked out. Never thought- Never thought he'd do something like this." As he finished speaking, Ponk managed to lift his good hand just barely and gesture at his stump.
Ah. Dream wasn't sure how he felt about that. Was it better? That it hadn't been just him. Who thought Sam could be trusted and was wrong? Or was it worse? That it all came back to Dream himself in the end. Something corrupting, corroding, ruining everything he came into contact with?
A question for another time maybe.
"That sucks." Okay, he winced at that one. "Sorry- uh, I didn't. I didn't think he'd do something like that either. Before."
It said a little more than he wanted to say. Ponk, of course, had recovered enough to catch on. Eyes now focusing in on him. Taking him in and judging. Dream clenched his jaw and tried to ignore the weight of an old friend's gaze. Tried to change the subject.
"You feel up for some water?"
Thankfully, Ponk let the topic drop in favor of nodding. Probably parched by now. Dream pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the spill proof bottle that Punz had left. They were ready for this.
He held it out carefully, trying his best to control the shaking in his own hands. From how Ponk's eyes narrowed, he didn't quite manage it.
The light in here was soft, and Dream had been hoping that would hide his scarred hands. Not from Ponk's eyes though, as the other carefully took the water bottle, drinking from it in long gulps.
By the time it was finished, Dream had returned to his spot on the far side of the room, right by the door so he could get out if he needed to. Not that he would need to. Ponk wasn't infected anymore, the guy could hardly lift a bottle.
The silence stretched out between them, until finally, Ponk spoke again, eyes watching Dream's hands far too closely.
"Is it fucked up if I'm glad it wasn't just me? That he- It was him. I mean, I knew he was the one that fucked up. He cut my fucking arm off over some fucking keycards. But- I mean- He kept trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. Like I should just ignore what he did to me. Like it was all my fault. I didn't buy it- but- I mean- God, I'm not sure what I mean."
Something inside Dream wanted to break. Wanted to shatter apart. Wanted to scream and cry and-
"It's okay." Dream replied, his voice far more shaky than he would've liked. "I get it." That might be a lie. Both statements might be lies.
"I'm glad it wasn't just me either." Dream said, because it was what he needed to say.
Maybe one day he'd be able to figure out if he meant it.
#sif answers#sixteenth-day-event#c!dream#dreblr#sixteenthdayevent#c!ponk#dsmp#dream smp#sif speaks#sif writes#c!sam#c!awesamdude#dropsbyponk
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okay more lab kid Robin because @thesummoningdark @stobinesque asked...
I want to specify that I did not say MANY thoughts, but...
Robin being a lab kid, maybe doing the classic escape with Kali, gets separated, and ends up in a quirky little couples backyard.
Now, the Buckleys are former hippies, and maybe they're less former than they'd like the good people of Hawkins to believe them to be, but they aren't very high (just a little!)when they see a kid, maybe eight years old, wandering out of the woods. They, obviously, freak out. Adrenaline can sober them pretty quickly. They, also obviously, don't think about calling the cops right away.
They wrap them--her-- up in a blanket and get her clean clothes. Maybe a shower if she's comfortable with that. Get her set up in the spare bedroom the have a futon in to have a nice long nap, cozy and safe.
It's then they realize hey....maybe we should....call someone? But the kid was scared. Kept talking about running away from "bad men", and says her name is "nine" when asked, showing her wrist with a corresponding 009 tattoo. And the Buckleys are not one to trust authorities already, so they think. Fuck that.
They discussion options as the little girl, who will shortly become their little girl, sleeps soundly down the hall. Richard says they can say she's Melissa's second cousin's kid, and they're adopting her. Mel says they'll need to call in a lot of favours for documents. Richard says he knows a guy that owes him and he's pretty sure he moonlights as a forger.
They'll ask her how she feels about names, but they brainstorm a few. They like Robin, their free little bird, and maybe a few middle names like meadow or sunbeam. Things to remind the scared child in the guest bedroom she is no longer where bad men can hurt her.
So. Morning comes and the child that was once Nine is now Robin, and it doesn't take very long for her to reveal that she can make the sugar bowl float. It's very impressive, honestly, though the trickle of blood from her nose is concerning and Mel tells her not to strain herself. Then they learn what geniuses her little ears are, when she repeats it back to her in a perfect imitation of her voice.
So the Buckleys set some ground rules for their new daughter. They tell her that, though she is very gifted, they do not want whatever bad men were chasing her to find her, and that her talents may lead them to her. She nods, and understands. There are things to only do at home, with her mom and dad, and not tell her secrets so the bad men cannot find her.
They emphasize they are not like her papa. That they do not want to trap her here but hope that she stays. Little Robin briefly struggles to understand this, because of course they are not like Papa. Where papa was cold, the Buckleys are warm. Where Papa was angry, the Buckleys may be annoyed, but patient in explaining to her what she did wrong. Where Papa would command her to use her powers over and over and over until her throat was raw, the Buckleys only once told her she needed to use them, so she could tell someone over the phone a lie about who was talking and that she was meant to stay with them. They didn't even make her, just told her it would make things safer for her, but they would find other ways to keep her safe. So she did, and a few months later she was able to attend school.
At school she is strange, but possibly no stranger than other wierd little kids. She runs and plays and learns. She talks and asks questions and laughs, all in her own voice (even if she wishes she could let it rest sometimes, and borrow someone else's). She holds her secret for years and years.She learns three languages, her accents nearly perfect, her ears still little geniuses. Her mother nags her not to be so careless with running her mouth, her father tells her to try to go out with friends over the weekend and asks her if she remembers what the baseball score was last night (of course she does, she recounts it in the announcers voice, and watches a fond smile creep onto her mothers lips and her father huff, likely at the Cubs' score).
Then there are Soviets under the mall and she tells Steve a secret about her not even her parents know, and she's confronted with her little sister throwing a car across the foodcourt. It takes her a week after to tell Steve everything about the lab. About escaping and losing Kali and finding her parents and leaving her siblings. He holds her hand when he tells her she should tell El. (who is, somehow, more his sister than hers at this point. It is odd, but Robin isn't jealous of it, just sad.)
And then he smirks asks if she can do a Ms. Piggy impression.
and that's all i've got right now hehe
#lab kid robin#robin buckley#robin buckley's parents#steve harrington#el hopper#stranger things#stobin#platonic stobin#finda's rambles#i don't do tag lists and this was going to be a reblog on the op but eh figured it deserved it's own post#finda writes stuff
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Lan Qiren’s Funtime Adventure
Or, Lan Qiren’s mid-life crisis’ vacation
Based loosely off the headcanons of @robininthelabyrinth
After the sunshot campaign, Lan Qiren wakes up one day and realizes he hasn’t done a thing for himself since he was his nephews age.
He’s been father, sect leader, teacher, all things he’s had to become to fill the gap his brother left and to be there for his nephews. And sure, he loves teaching, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life.
He wanted to become a traveling musician!
And now, the war is over, and lan xichen is sect leader. He doesn’t need his uncle anymore! He’s lead a war! Secured an alliance with both the jin and the nie!
He can handle himself while his Uncle takes a few months off.
So Lan Qiren bids his nephews goodbye, dons traveling clothes, and sets out with only a handful of instruments and a song in his heart.
Now life on the road isn’t as easy for a middle-aged man as it is for a young one. Lan Qiren has many aches and pains to prove it. So he starts staying at any place that will take in a wandering musician.
This means he’s no longer staying at high end inns, but local taverns as well.
And while those high end places might like the soothing and elegant classical music lan qiren is gifted at, those in the taverns want something a bit more…bouncy.
So lan qiren is forced to make new songs to appease the masses. And although he loves crafting music, he’s a bit at a loss on what to make thr lyrics.
That is until one drunken guest demands a love song about those fancy cultivators and lan Qiren is so outraged he freestyles an entire song about how bad his peers are at love
The song is an instant classic, and Lan Qiren realizes something huge: He can just rant about all the problems he kept inside and people will eat it up!!!!
And its not like he’s hurting anyone, no one knows who he is! He’s just got to make sure he doesn’t put any names in any of it!
He says like a middle-aged man who refuses to take off his lan forehead ribbion could be anyone but a lan
Thus his career as a radical singer/song writer begins
Highlights include:
“The Way of the Heart” (popular name “You All Suck at Love”) - his first and greatest hit, where he lists off the failings of the couples in his generation, from unfaithfulness (jin), wishy-washiness (jiang), lashing out in jealousy (madam yu), possessive behavior (his brother), and terrible choice in partners (Lao Nie).
“My Nephew has Terrible Taste in Friends” (popular name “The Cutsleeve’s Ballad”) - in which he rants about both his nephew’s friends from anger issues (nie mingjue), two faced (jin guangyao), and everything ever about wei wuxian.
“Beware Powerful Men” (popular name “The Many Bastards of Jin Guangshan”) - in which he warns young ladies of getting with a man who does not provide for his children, who does not keep his promises, and who will never marry you whatever he says. (Lan Qiren met second lady mo and her child and got really, really mad at how young she was)
“A Well Mannered Young Woman” (popular name “She’s not Flirting with You She’s Just Being Polite”) - Lan Qiren had to deal with jin zixuan’s behavior towards Jiang yanli in the cloud recesses, he heard about the soup incident from lan zhan, and about jin guangshan failing to reengage them. He’s not impressed with the rumors that say jiang yanli is hopelessly persuing jin zixuan, and he has things to say.
“The Many Faults of Wen Rouhan” (popular name “I Have so Many Problems with Wen Rouhan and Now I Can Finally Talk About Them!”) - in which lan qiren recounts all the times wen rouhan drove him nuts at sect conferences. Not the big things mind you, but the little things that lan qiren just had to swallow because he couldn’t risk insulting him as only an “acting” sect leader. The world will hear about how wen rouhan set the table wrong actually, that bowl was supposed to be a little more to the left and he Knew it!
Naturally songs insulting the leaders of the cultivation sects do not go over well in the main clans. “The Way of the Heart”/“You All Suck at Love” is banned from the Jin, the Nie, and the Jiang. The only reason its not banned from the lan is because it was Lan Qiren’s song, and lan Xichen knows it was Lan Qiren even if its technically “annoyamous”
Technically its banned in the lower sects as well, but they are absolutely all listening to it in secret and chuckling at all the spilled tea
The Cutsleeve’s ballad is not banned, but its not looked upon very positively, except to smirk and gossip about the lan’s “inclinations.” Jin guangyao wants it banned, as its implications against the sworn brothers are detrimental to him, but his father has it played whenever he wants to humiliate him.
Lan Xichen reassures Jin Guangyao that the song is just proof that Lan Qiren has excepted them, which is a good thing really!
“He’s given us his blessing,” lan xichen trails a hand down jin guangyao’s arm. “Shouldn’t we celelbrate it?” He winks at nie mingjue.
Lan Xichen is absolutely under the impression that this sworn brotherhood is more than a brotherhood and is using this “permission” from his uncle to make his move.
Meanwhile the jin are all up in arms when “Beware Powerful Men” comes out. It takes all of jin guangyao’s persuasiveness to convince jin guangshan not to go to war. Arguing that no one could prove it was him. If they make a move people with know its about him, see? Thus jin guangshan is unable to do anything except sit there and grit his teeth. Madam jin however, loves it.
Jin Zixuan does not pick up that “A Well Mannered Young Woman” is about him. He does grow to hate the song however, as both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng will sing it loudly anytime he tries to talk to jiang yanli. (The brothers absolutely know the song is about jiang yanli and are very proud of how praised she’s become)
Finally the many faults of Wen Rouhan is a hit all across the cultivation world, with sects big anf small singing it to themselves. It is quite possibly the only reason that Lan Qiren is not exiled from the cultivation world like his songs.
So Lan Qiren continues his traveling musician journey, completely ignoring all politics, and thus missing the wen going missing and wei ying defecting.
Until that is, he wanders into yiling, and encounters Wei ying with a-yuan and wen ning, selling radishes.
Lan Qiren is horrified at what wen ning has become, but even more horrified that there is a child in wei wuxian’s care of all people! How will little a-yuan live?
Being an uncle used to having to step up, he refuses to leave until he sees where a-yuan sleeps.
To which wei wuxian finds himself escorting lan Qiren up to the burial mounds, and introduces him to the wens
Lan Qiren is beyond horrified. A child! In the burial mounds?!!! With elderly farmers???? How could the sects allow this???
The sects are the reason we have to stay here,” wen qing explains. “Because we’re wens”
And Lan Qiren…lan Qiren has always been a rule follower. He hated the wen for taking his home and trampling on his beliefs. But…there were half a dozen rules, important ones! About allowing injustice and the treatment of civlians and prisoners.
But what’s more, Lan Qiren lost his entire life taking care of anothers burdens because he had to. It was filital, and his duty as a brother. But when he looks at wei ying, who hated the wen more than anything, who shares no blood with these people and yet is willing to throw his own future away anyways, and he sees himself.
No. Not himself, a better version. Someone he had always striven to be. And he got there without rules.
So Lan Qiren stays for a little bit, uses his money to help them get more supplies, but he can’t stay long, the burial mounds cant afford another mouth to feed
So lan Qiren goes to the inn, and he writes, and writes, and when he’s finished, he has a new ballad to spread around
“The Yiling Patriarch” - is a bit different from his usual songs. It has some pretty strong criticism of wei wuxian, like “a child needs structure u can’t just let him run around all day” and “what idiot tries to grow lotus on a mountain” but they are specifically chosen to make him seem far less scary, even relatable. For most of it, the yiling patrarch is portrayed as noble, someone giving up his own future and reputation to take on the burdens that the sects neglected.
The true criticism of the song goes to the great sects, for mistreating the weak, poor, and young. For punishing civilians for crimes they did not commit. And how exactly are they different from wen Rouhan?
The song when first heard is met with silence. The audience confused and not quite willing to accept it yet.
But lan Qiren doesn’t give up, singing it loudly where ever he can, using names for the first time ever, just to make it very clear where he stands.
And slowly, people start to listen. The civlians believe first, terrified that the great sects could turn on them like they turned on the wen.
Then those of lower clans, who fear the power and abuses the great sects might turn on them.
Finally lan Qiren goes before the sect conference itself, and angrily sings his song. Then stops and proceeds to lecture each and every one of them about exactly how they screwed up.
And here’s the thing. Lan Qiren had a lot of influence, far more than he realizes. He’s taught the majority of the younger generation, and three of the four sect leaders. They owe him feital piety.
So when he stands up, people listen.
Not all of them, jin guangshan never does, but enough do, and the rest see the way the tide is turning and don’t want to be left behind.
And both nie mingjue and jin guangyao have a new boyfriend and they really don’t want to disappoint their new in-law.
Thus Lan Qiren saves the wens and gets them put up in a nice valley near cloud recesses, saving the day with the power of disappointed teacher face, music, and vacations!
The end
#the untamed au#the untamed#mo dao su zhi#mdzs#mdzs au#lan qiren music au#lan qiren#lan xichen#nie mingjue#jin guangyao#jin guangshan#weu wuxian#a yuan#wen yuan#don’t worry wangxian get together its just after the wens move next door
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You don't have to write anything on this if you don't want to or don't feel comfortable, but how about some smut with Gale and an afab reader where she tells him that she struggles with vaginal dryness and he's like "Well I can think of one way to fix that..." and goes down on her. Bonus points if she's super shy and has a hard time explaining it to him and is super oversensitive because of it
Sorry if this isn't in your comfort zone, I'm going to go crawl in a hole now 🙈
Hi! You didn't specify an admin so little ol' me, Ren, will be taking this. I read this and got so excited. I had to look up more details about vaginal dryness (the name itself says a lot but I wanted to make sure I knew what I was writing about), but like. I love this prompt? So much? Being open and honest about body differences is so good, and communicating about it is just mwah.
I hope you like this piece, anon!
A little note: Google can only tell me so much. If I got something wrong like didn't accurately explain vaginal dryness right, or took the wrong guess on how past experiences could happen, or anything like that, please please tell me! I'll endeavor to fix my mistakes. I want to learn and make sure I represent this right (:
~*~*~
His fingers trailing lightly down your spine, you twine your own in his hair as you draw him closer, deepening the kiss. A soft sound escapes from your lips as his fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip under, fingertips trailing fire as he languidly explores your skin. Gale breaks the kiss only to find your neck, teasing with tongue and teeth as he makes his way slowly to your collarbone, humming as your neck bends to give him more access.
Hearing nothing but your heart hammering in your chest, you let your own hands wander, tugging free the belt around his waist so you can run along the planes of his stomach, marveling at the movement of his muscles when he shifts.
His own hands move lower, cupping your ass and drawing you close as he catches your lips once more. Your move your hands up his back so you can press against him, feeling that familiar mix of longing and anxiety as you feel him straining against his pants.
He won't push, you know, won't try to sneakily slip his hands down your pants or ask you to do something you've already said no to. But that guilt still sits and squirms in your chest, thrashing in the blankets of shame and fear, making it hard to tell him why. Why you keep the clothes on, why you hesitate when things start getting real heated.
You know you have to tell him, you want to tell him, but the shame and fear of rejection has so far kept your tongue glued.
But tonight... Tonight, maybe, you can finally get it off your chest.
Breaking through the haze, the temptation of his touch, you step back and catch his eye. He immediately drops his hands to your hips and squeeze reassuringly. "Too much?" he asks gently.
"No, it's..." Taking a deep breath, you step outside of his reach, bringing your arms up to hug yourself. "There's something I need to tell you."
"Anything."
You can already feel the embarrassment heating your cheeks and neck already, your eyes bouncing from rock to tree to leaf and back as you fight for the confidence and the words you need. "I, um. H-How much of the human body do you know?"
Raising an eyebrow, Gale takes a moment to think. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific. I've read tomes talking about anatomy and biology, though I'll admit recounting what I learned may be difficult."
Biting your bottom lip, you shift as you take a deep breath. "Well, I, um." Pressing your lips together, you try again. "I kind of have a...problem."
"Are you well?"
"Yes! Yes. I-It's nothing that is contagious, or anything. It's." Now you're outright chewing your poor lip. "It's something about me. And, well, i-if we're going to be..." You raise your shoulders up, hugging yourself a bit tighter.
Raising his hands up, Gale says gently, "You don't have to tell me if you aren't ready. We all have our secrets and are allowed them."
"No, Gale, I want to tell you, I just." You sigh. "It's embarrassing, and I don't want you to think less of me, or--"
"I would never think less of you." He tilts his head, a small smile testing his lips. "Unless you go on a murder spree, but even then, I feel I would assume your victims deserved it first." Your smile is more of a painful one and he drops the attempted humor immediately. "Sorry. But I do mean it, whatever you need to tell me, I won't think any less of you."
Rolling your lips together, you say hesitantly, "I...have trouble...getting wet."
He shifts, brows furrowing. "Can you elaborate?"
"It's... Mm. You know how when..." You huff. "Women get wet, right? When things get heated? I... I don't, really." How you wish you could disappear into the ground. "I mean, I do, but, I don't. It isn't, it isn't you or anything, it's just... How. How I am."
His eyes drift as he processes, and you only have the courage to watch for a few seconds before your eyes drop to your feet, your chest so tight it's hard to breathe.
"If I'm understanding right," he starts finally, "I just have to tease you longer."
Your face flares so hot you fear it might melt. "I mean. Maybe. That might help."
Smirking, he takes a slow step forward. When you don't retreat, he draws your arms from vice gripping your chest and holds your hands, bringing one to his lips, eyes studying your face as he says, "I have a tongue, and I'd like to think I know how to use it."
You barely squeak out, "Gale--"
He chuckles, drawing you closer, resting his knuckles against your cheek as his smirk drops. "Thank you for telling me. And as promised, I don't see you any less."
Your smile is wobbly, hopeful. You should've known Gale would be different. Swallowing back the prick of tears, you say, "And I, um. I'd like to..." You gesture between you.
His smirk is back. "Shall I summon the bed?"
A small chuckle escapes. "Please."
So he does just that, setting up a magical bed in the nearby clearing. A four poster bed with elaborate bedding and even a canopy, sheer purple drapes drifting lazily in the calm breeze.
He leads you over, waiting for you to find a comfortable spot on the bed before he follows. Propping himself above you, he searches your gaze and, finding no denial, exposes your tummy and gets to work.
He starts right below your ribcage, tongue trailing the bones and sending a shiver up your spine. Moving up, not down, he drags the shirt up as he moves, exposing your breasts before covering one with a hand and the other with his mouth, tongue circling your nipple as his thumb plays with the other.
Your back arches without your consent, breath stuttering as he nips gently, licking away the sting. Your knees draw up as he opens his mouth to trail back down, his fingers trailing the hem of your pants before hooking underneath.
He glances up at you, and it isn't until you nod that he pulls, exposing your sex to the chill air. You shiver at the sudden change, though his warm hands finding your thighs and his breath ghosting lower takes no time in banishing the cold.
A kiss to your folds as you inhaling in expectation, and the groan that escapes as his tongue dips between would be embarrassing if you weren't already so far in the haze, the pleasure.
Gale wasn't wrong when he said he knew how to use his tongue. Using the tip of his tongue, he teases that sensitive bundle before calming the sensation with the tongue's body, a languid couple licks that has you absolutely squirming.
He goes just a bit lower this time, tip of his tongue pressing just above your entrance before trailing up, his teeth this time nipping and sending your back arching high. He repeats the motion, spending more time alternating between teeth and tongue, and you can do nothing but squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe as your limbs shake.
He leaves his hands to knead your thighs and hold down your hips, especially as his tongue finally finds its way to your entrance. He circles it lazily as he huffs breaths, and you feel his chuckle as he finally slips in, your hips bucking as you gasp, fingers clawing at the magical sheets.
Gale takes his time. Slow, methodical pumps and licks and putting just the right amount of pressure before backing off, finding somewhere else to tease. It builds that pressure in your stomach so achingly slowly, but you're drowning in the pleasure, both impatient and enjoying every single wet, warm touch of his tongue until you aren't sure how long has passed, aren't sure if you're dizzy from his ministrations or you aren't getting enough air in your lungs or both.
The edge beckons, calling to you, and it becomes almost impossible for Gale to hold your hips steady. So he lets go. He allows you to ride his tongue, as hard and quick as you need, to find your release.
And you find it quick.
It shatters through you, your cry stumbling out of your throat as you simultaneously gulp for air, the sheets held in a death grip in your fists. You don't know how long it takes for the stars to subside, for you to start acknowledging reality again.
For you to look over at Gale, whose chin is positively drenched. With you.
He smiles, lips shimmering with your wetness.
You laugh a breathless laugh as he moves back up, fingers feathering down your jawline. "I believe," he says, smile morphing into that grin, "you are now ready for me. What do you think?"
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after the hunt
ship: corporate affairs words: 1122 a/n: new tomja fic !!!! this time it's s2 ep3, my detested. but it did inspire me to write this, so... not totally irredeemable? definitely one of my favourites to read through whenever i want some Canon Tomja content <3 (for the record and for some context, that deleted scene of him for this episode did indeed happen in our canon…)
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When he finally makes it to Sonja's place, it’s well past midnight.
They didn’t plan on meeting until tomorrow after they both get off work, but Tom had to see her immediately. He was going to initially let her know he’s making a surprise appearance, but the paranoia of someone seeing who he’s talking to, someone knowing what’s happening despite it being perfectly allowed, kept him from touching his phone nearly the whole flight. Only now that he's in a far enough distance from everyone else, he starts to feel more at ease, the tension in his body dissolving. Or maybe it's because he's so close to seeing her again.
He cringes at the sound of the doorbell, keenly aware she’s gone to bed for the night. First there are the low, questioning barks from Juno; a sound all too familiar whenever he returns to his apartment late and gets greeted by a sleepy and disapproving Mondale. After a few beats he hears the safety chain scratch and jingle, and the door opens.
Sonja blinks at him, half-asleep and agitated at the disturbance but perks up once she recognises him. The relief of seeing her washes over him in surprise and renders him wordless.
Something uncurls deep within him, only now making its presense known. A sharp sting beneath his sternum. He observes her closely, every little detail, things he recalled and things he forgot. Her messy hair, her oversized flannel pants and fleece, her painfully unaware disposition, the way she can't stay still even when she's tired, gently shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“Well hello. Is it morning in Hungary already?” she asks, and interrupts herself with a yawn she hides into the crook of her elbow. “Because here in New York it sure isn’t.”
When he says nothing in return, her demeanor shifts; a cloud of concern drifts over her expression. She opens the door wider in silent invitation. As soon as he’s over the doorstep, Juno trods over to greet him, her tail lazily wagging back and forth.
Twenty minutes later, having gotten rid of the dirt and the apparel of travel, he paddles to her bedroom where Juno is already sleeping again at the foot of the bed. Sonja’s curled up on her side of the bed, close to falling asleep as well, but comes to when he slips beneath the covers. He lies on his back, takes a deep breath and hopes to convey just the perfectly acceptable amount of anguish in the following exhale, a disgruntled sigh.
“So… How was it?” her sleepy voice inquires in a new attempt to spark up conversation.
He can feel her intent stare on him in the dark. The intense feeling of being exposed and scrutinized has not yet neutralized in his subconscious, and even though he knows it to be only gentle, only well-meaning, nausea rises in him at the thought of her looking at him. Waiting to split him open if he says the wrong thing.
”Don’t make me recount it,” he grumbles.
From the haze of her tiredness she frowns.
”Who am I gonna have to email employment termination threats to? Have a good old disciplinary meeting with?” she asks, half-serious.
He can’t hide the desperation in his voice, even though his words conceal the biggest culprit, the one she’d gladly rain all hellfire upon if given the chance. ”The entire executive crew?”
She gives him a look, clearly not surprised, but then immediately softens at his pained expression. Without preamble she reaches out to touch him, beckons him to get closer. Getting to hide from her curious gaze – he accepts it gladly, her hand that gently guides him until he’s on top of her, his head on her chest and her arms wrapped around him. He rubs his cheek against the soft fabric of her fleece and breathes her in; clean for the night, but never without that undercurrent of her own scent. Her fingers sink into his hair, and he tears up just from how good it feels. To be touched in a way he likes.
“Do you want to talk about it…” she says after a while, unusual hesitation peeking behind the reassurance, “...or just move on?”
He is struck with the overwhelming warmth of the moment, her genuine concern for him. He’s been so shrouded in anxiety that in the heat of it all this didn’t feel like a possibility, her caring about him like this. But he must have known, he must have felt it across the ocean, because whenever he dared to, between those moments of exasperation and humiliation, he’d longed for this reunion.
And now it’s right here, now she’s right here.
“Maybe at some point,” he decides.
Perhaps, with some distance, it’ll eventually feel like it all happened to someone else, and he can divulge at least some of it without wanting to self-destruct afterwards. But right now everything feels too recent and raw. It doesn't feel quite real, that they're talking like this, but he reasons that he wouldn't have been able to completely hide it from her. She's too observant, too tuned in to his frequency.
He's glad she can't really see him, shrouded by the night and hidden in her arms; he's certain his misery is written all over him. It's painful, he's feeling too open and honest — things that make his stomach turn — but he finds it difficult to feel embarrassed when she clearly is not. Only worried.
Calming silence envelopes them. His entire being feels restless, he’s far too alert to sleep just yet: his mind is still somewhere above the Atlantic, not yet caught up to his current physical location. Yet at the same time he’s exhausted, thoughts growing less coherent by the minute. But whenever he nearly dozes off he rouses back awake, childlishly afraid that if he does fall asleep, he might wake up somewhere else. He wants to stretch and savour this moment of wholehearted relief as long as he can.
If Sonja is bothered by having to stay up with him, she never once voices it, doesn't let go of him or pressure him to fall asleep. Only keeps touching him gently; at some point her hands slide downwards to rub his back, fingertips occasionally tapping the melody of a song playing in her mind. Too elaborate for him to follow, but the erratic touches keep him awake for a moment longer. He tries his best to catch onto her tranquility, match his breathing to hers, slow and grounded.
Eventually sleep pulls him under with her arms around him, still holding on. His last thought is a silent, almost overwhelming understanding: with her, he's safe.
#self shipping#self ship#corporate affairs#my creations#BIG FAN OF THIS ONE#getting to give him the comfort he just does not get otherwise makes me go ☹️☹️
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