#ep: distant voices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanakiras · 24 days

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HEAVEN

PAIRING — jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 3.4k

SYNOPSIS — wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.

TAGS — established relationship, explicit sexual content, sub-ish virgin!wonwoo, lowkey corruption kink, i have a sickening crush on this man can you tell, not proofread :)

♪ — the nbhd - heaven,, hank lotion - k-sEx

NOTE — gam3 bo1 wonwoo and ep 1 nana tour wonwoo footage has been making me act UP and i think he’s just so cute <3 screw the hard dom wonu agenda i like to see my men a lil WEAK ‼️😁

like most people, you felt rather intimidated when you met jeon wonwoo for the first time.

stoic, quiet, intelligent. the strong and silent type. that was the clear image you had of him. and to top it all off, he had the criminally good looks too. a relatively rare kind of man to come across, in your opinion.

though you began to see him in a different light after bonding with him over your shared love for video games. since then, you’ve discovered he can actually be quite talkative, cracking silly puns or laughing at the corniest dad jokes. he’s well-spoken and is actually very open about his feelings, which you found refreshing.

and while developing a friendship with him, you realized how much of a big softie he actually is, which paints quite the contrast compared to his cold and quiet persona he unintentionally seems to put up towards those outside his circle of close friends and family.

it reminds you of the day he asked you out — that sweet, shy smile on his face with rosy cheeks, all flustered and stuttering that you really don’t have to say yes if you don’t feel like it and he’ll push it all to the side like nothing happened if that’s what you’d prefer—

you very easily interrupted him by agreeing to go on a date with him. you’d never seen him smile wider.

wonwoo is cute when he smiles.

and despite his nervousness in the beginning, he still made efforts to be as talkative as he could and show you his interest in you, which you found very sweet. you had a great time with him, and you noticed rather quickly how comfortable you felt around him.

a couple dates later, he asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend, and you certainly didn’t refuse him.

he’s also turned out to be a gentleman in his own way — subtly saying he could do certain things for you to make your life easier in that monotone voice of his, eyes following you around whenever he’s with you.

the first time he slept over at your place was rather recently after you two made it official. it wasn’t planned, since he was supposed to go back to his place after your date, but due to issues with public transport, you offered him to stay with you instead.

with his face and chest bare, he got into bed next to you. of course you’d imagined what he looked like underneath his big hoodies, but actually having him by your side like this was different.

and wonwoo was putting every bit of effort into playing it cool, even though he was freaking out to be sleeping next to his first girlfriend, forcing himself to look away from your tank top that left very little to the imagination.

yet ironically, it was all he could fantasize about before drifting to sleep.

normally, you’d only let a guy into your bed to do things other than sleeping once you’ve been dating for quite a while. it’s never been something you like to initiate quickly — but wonwoo’s been making you question it. severely.

because he looks so hot when he’s out on the field with his football team, when he’s working out, when he’s gaming on his pc, even when he just fucking smiles at you. the worst thing of it all might be that he doesn’t even seem the slightest bit aware of how attractive he is, nor what effect it has on you.

maybe you should really just tell him you want to jump him like a tree.

but you don’t want to rush him. for all you know, he doesn’t feel like doing that at all with you yet, and for some reason you just didn’t know when or how to ask him about it. later, you thought to yourself.

though you will say you’ve been pushing his buttons a little over the course of time. ever since that night, you’ve subtly been putting yourself on display for him. low-cut shirts and dresses so he can take a peek at your cleavage, accidentally exposing a bit of the fabric of your lingerie, sitting in his lap and rubbing up on him — unintentionally, of course.

it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to smirk when you felt him stiffen up underneath you.

the progress of your relationship has been nothing but positive, really. but you’re aching for him to just touch you at this point.

the day you hit your breaking point isn’t much later. you were trying on some newly bought dresses in front of him, one more revealing than the other — sundresses always work magic on men for whatever reason — and you turned around to find him pathetically trying to hide his hard-on while seated on your bed.

and you just couldn’t find it in you to wait any longer.

so that’s how you ended up sitting in his lap, hands on the back of his neck as you’re grinding against him. his glasses are sitting lop-sided on his nose, black locks messy from your fingers threading through them, lips swollen from your kisses.

the moment he feels your fingers tugging at his hoodie, he feels the need to clear up what he’s been meaning to tell you for a while now.

“i need to tell you something. i’ve—” he cuts himself off when he accidentally lets out a whimper, “i’ve never had sex with anyone.”

he’s still heavily breathing, looking at you in anticipation, and you just can’t escape the buzzing feeling you get from the idea of taking his virginity.

“do you want to?” you ask him, and how could he say no when you’re holding his face like this, looking at him like you’re willing to give him the ride of his life?

“yeah, yeah, i just—i usually don’t last very long,” he sheepishly admits, then internally asking himself why the fuck he would say that, “sorry, i’m nervous.”

but you think it’s endearing. “i don’t mind. we can always go for a second round, right?”

all he can do is nod his head in agreement. “i, i um—i’m not sure what to do next. i’m sorry, this is embarrassing.”

“it’s not, really. it’s not some big performance you need to put up, it’s something fun and exciting and intimate. you can go ahead and relax, and tell me if you like or don’t like what i’m doing.” you reassure him so patiently, which puts him at ease.

jesus — if anything, he’s already a whimpering, stuttering mess and you’re hardly even touching him.

so you move your hand down into his boxers, fingers wrapping around him to test the waters. he gasps in surprise once he feels you touching him, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“just let me take care of you, ‘kay? we can stop anytime.” you tell him, and he trusts you enough to let you go on.

you press another kiss to his lips before moving backwards, fingers taking a hold of the waistband of both his sweatpants and boxers.

the cold on his skin makes him shiver, but he’s hardly given the time to feel exposed in front of you when you’ve already got your hands on him, pleasantly surprised by his size.

“you’re so big, wonu.” you tell him in a sweet voice, feeling like you’re about to drool at the sight of him.

“didn’t think i was big.” he mumbles more to himself than to you, staring at the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing.

you chuckle a little as you watch him. “you are. gonna have to work for it to make you fit into me.” the words make his eyes widen, images of you getting fucked by him flashing through his mind.

“fuck, really?”

“mhm. but you’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

wonwoo is absolutely crumbling underneath you here. the effect that your mere words have on him should be studied, because shit, he’s never felt this hot before. why is it so hot in here? is he sweating already? “yeah, i’ll—i’ll do anything you want me to.”

he’s such a sweetheart that it makes you want to ruin him.

for the sake of both his and your own pleasure, you decide not to tease any longer and touch his cock with your lips. he lets out a moan of surprise, the feeling being unfamiliar to him, but holy shit — this has got to be what heaven feels like.

his chest heaves as he tries to control his breathing once more, focusing on keeping his breathing by his stomach. your tongue darts out to lick his cock, and he whimpers, which makes you triumphantly smile a little.

you’re genuinely curious to see how long he can last, so you catch him by surprise by taking him into your mouth as far as possible, and his hand subconscously flies to the back of your head, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to push your head down or pull it back. he releases a choked moan, spurring you on to keep him lodged in your throat despite his efforts to pull you off him.

“fuck—please don’t make me cum already, baby, please—” he begs, loving the feeling of your mouth on him like that — he just doesn’t want to hit his peak that fast.

unfortunately for him, you do.

with your mouth currently no longer on him, you gently jerk him off instead, his hips automatically bucking into your grip. "what if i want you to?"

“you’ve barely—barely touched me. ‘s embarrassing.” he chokes out. the heat is still rushing to his cheeks. his hands are shaking.

of course he’s nervous. you’re his first time, his first girlfriend, it’s all new to him. he’s clearly afraid you might be turned off by him being all flustered like this.

so you make it your mission to show him it’s very much the opposite.

discarding your dress, you’re left in your tank top and underwear, nipples poking through the thin, white fabric. you move to tilt his face up with your glossy, acrylic nail, gently holding his chin, your face mere inches away from his.

“do you have any idea how wet i am? just from seeing you like this?” you ask, pulling his one hand down so he can feel the dampness of your panties. “bet you could slip right in.”

a broken whimper slips out of his mouth when he feels it. he didn’t know you were this turned on.

you push his head and upper body back against the pillows, making him lie down fully, and you’re just so eager to suck the life out of him.

the feeling of your warm mouth and tongue around him makes him experience a sensation he didn’t think was possible. christ, this must be what heaven feels like.

“oh my god—you’re so fucking good.” he’s arching his back with his eyes tightly shut from the pleasure you’re giving him. it’s only when you take him as far in your throat as possible that the first guttural groan is ripped from the depths of his chest. it’s a low, sexy sound that makes you clench around nothing.

he’s burning hot under you, causing his glasses to fog up a little. he carelessly throws the pair onto his nightstand, the grip on the back of your head becoming harsher and less gentle than before, because he’s that fucking close now.

it’s cute seeing wonwoo not knowing what to do with himself. keeping your mouth on his cock, gripping the sheets, throwing his head back before he casts his eyes back down to watch you suck him off — it’s like he’s being overstimulated in the best way possible.

it’s enough for you to sense he’s close, which makes you take your mouth off him to jerk him off instead, all so you can watch him chase his release. “that’s it, wonu, give it to me.”

there’s a sudden shiver that runs from his back and core all the way down to his toes. he tenses up, unintentionally grabbing your wrist to stop your movements as he trembles and his body gives in to his orgasm.

once he’s coming down from his high, he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“that was… holy shit.” he laughs a little to himself, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“i’m that good, huh?”

“yeah.”

“wanna keep going?”

“mhm.”

“okay. take off your shirt.”

wonwoo blinks for a moment. he practically forgot he was still wearing one, so he sits up and gets rid of the black shirt, throwing it beside your bed, now completely bare before you.

if he’s being honest, you did ease his nerves by letting him have his first orgasm already. the strange sense of shame he previously felt has disappeared into the air, with only nervous excitement left.

he feels good.

especially when he watches you move to sit on your knees on the bed, removing the tank top and slipping out of your underwear.

his eyes are glued to your naked body, hardly able to look away — that is, until you sit down in his lap, your dripping heat touching his hardening dick, making him twitch under you.

“where do you keep your condoms?”

the question forces him out of his constant staring at your body. “uh—nightstand.” he mutters, taking the initiative to reach and get it himself.

thankfully, he manages to get it on himself quickly. you urge him to lie back down again while you position yourself above him, shamelessly staring at his strong chest and broad shoulders.

his mouth is agape when you sink down on him, and fuck, he’s in so deep.

the stretch burns, especially because you didn’t get yourself ready, but you’re so dripping wet to the point you don’t care — you need him in you.

wonwoo notices you struggle despite your arousal. “you don’t have to take me all the way if it hurts.”

you hum, a half-smirk creeping onto your face. “but it hurts so good. so i will.”

once he’s sheathed fully inside you, he’s subconsciously holding his breath. the anticipation for you to move is killing him. the sensitivity of his dick makes him whimper, his lashes fluttering as his teeth sink into his lower lip in a failed attempt to hold it together.

you decide to tease him a little by clenching down on him. his hands fly to your hips, gripping the skin harder than intended from the sudden feeling, his breathing becoming erratic again. “hah—don’t do that, please, i don’t wanna cum yet baby—please.”

“why? you close?” you ask him with an innocent face, knowing damn well what you’re doing to him.

“yeah. need you so bad.” he answers truthfully, his ego and pride nowhere to be found anymore. whether he sounds pathetic or not, he doesn’t give a shit. all he knows is that you’re sitting on top of him and he needs you to make him feel what he’s been desperate to feel for so damn long.

so you tilt your head. “‘s okay, wonu. i’ll give it to you.”

he can hardly even make out a response before you lift your hips and proceed to sink back down on him, your hands on his chest. a filthy moan rolls past his lips — you think it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard in your damn life.

then you begin to roll your hips, and he sucks through his teeth from the feeling, a mix of overstimulation and pleasure rushing through him. once you let out your first dragged-out moan, his fingers twitch for a moment, digging deeper into your skin.

“have you thought about this? fucking me?”

despite the position he’s in right now, he still feels his face heat up when you ask him dirty things like that, even more so when he answers them.

“yeah, i did.”

“when? tell me. i wanna hear it.” you tell him, and when you’re so gorgeously riding him like this, how could he not oblige?

wonwoo swallows, stuttering as he focuses on recalling the memories while admiring you and the feeling you’re letting him experience. “when i saw you wearing that short skirt on our second date, and—and that time you came to watch me at the football game. couple of my teammates were drooling over you. so was i.”

his words turn you on, because you doubted whether you were sensing actual jealousy from him that night, and this confirms it.

“were you?” you ask, running your nails down his stomach. “what’d you do about it?”

he bites his lip. “i’ll sound like a pervert if i answer that.”

teasing him again, you push yourself down on him almost harshly, relishing in the way he gasps under you. wonwoo is wonderfully responsive in bed, and you’re having a fucking field trip with it.

“yeah? try me.”

“i touched myself after getting home, and i... thought about you. in that skirt.”

“i’ll wear it for you next time.” you smile, watching him close his eyes in pleasure when you leave your marks on his chest, putting a few hickeys on his neck and collarbone on purpose. “i touched myself thinking of you, too.”

that makes him twitch inside you, which is exactly what you wanted.

his hands dip to the curve of your ass, following your movement. “really?”

“mhm. i thought you looked so sexy in your football attire. you were wearing that tight compression shirt that you always wear when you go to the gym too — drove me nuts, wonu.” you confess, which seems to work as a brief shot of adrenaline for him.

he moves to sit up, bringing your bodies closer together by looping his arms around your waist, the slight change in position making you moan.

the drag of his cock inside you is slowly making you go insane. your face is hot and you’re dripping wet for him, sucking him in to the point you feel like you need to claw at the walls.

“god, feels so good.” he mutters, his mouth finding your breasts before he begins to suck on the skin like a man starved.

once he notices you’re both getting closer, but you’re getting tired from your position on top, he takes a breath and flips you over, now hovering above you.

burying his face in the crook of your neck, he holds onto your body and fucks you. his thrusts are harder than he intends them to, the control over his body lost in his relentless drive to make you both feel good.

he’s panting hard, doing everything in his power to make you cum first this time while indulging in his own pleasure as well. “am i doing good for my first time? does it feel good?”

god, you can only half-catch the words with the way he’s fucking you. it’s almost funny — such a sweetheart he is, asking you if he’s doing well while simultaneously fucking you into oblivion.

“you’re so good, wonu. so good—‘m so close.” you cry out, manicured nails digging into his back, making him groan.

“wanna feel you cum around me so bad.” the words almost sound like a plea, like he’s begging you for it.

then he kisses your neck, and he hits the perfect spot inside you over and over, and it’s enough to make you clench so hard around him that he can’t hold it any longer. your orgasm makes your legs shake, and he fucks you right through it, making you wonder why the hell it took the universe so long to let him into your life.

he moans and whines and shakes when he hits his climax, twitching inside you, filling up the condom. with heavy breaths, he lets his body rest on top of you, his head by your collarbone, a comfortable silence emerging as your heartbeats slow and breathing steadies.

surprisingly, it’s him who speaks up first.

“i’m gonna need a while for my legs to start working again.” he chuckles breathily, covering his face a little when he notices you poking fun at him.

“aw, baby, did i drain you that much?”

“i genuinely can’t even feel my limbs.”

you laugh at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he smiles so sweetly — as if he didn’t just fuck the living daylights out of you. “wanna go again?”

he blushes a bit, tilting his head as if he has to think about it, before sheepishly giving you his answer.

“... yeah.”

thanks for reading! let me know if u liked it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svt ff #svt fic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #svt smut #svthub #jeon wonwoo fanfic #original post

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talaok · 1 year

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Stay

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: the reader is the one who gets hurt in ep 1x06 instead of Joel

warnings: angst but also fluff

"there," he whispered, setting you delicately onto the dusty mattress.

He looked at you "you're alright" his voice was a breathy whisper "you're alright"

He glanced at the wound.

A large spot on your shirt was soaked with blood, and Joel felt his heart drop in his stomach as he raised the fabric.

It was deep,

And the blood wasn't stopping.

He tried to look at you again, but he couldn't, he couldn't find the strength to stare into your eyes and watch as the spark he so loved in them slowly vanished,

So instead, he quickly scanned your wound and started applying pressure to it.

All you could do was wince weakly.

"shit-shit what can I do?" Ellie asked, her eyes were wide, glassy, panicked.

Joel didn't answer,

He witnessed as the red covered his hands, and wondered, for a moment, if he was ever going to be able to wash it off, or if just like all the rest, it was gonna remain there forever, imprinted in the creases of his palm eternally.

"Joel?"

He applied more pressure, and you noticed as Ellie looked desperately between you two.

"Joel what can I d-"

"Nothing Ellie!"

"There's nothing you can do!"

she took a step back, and you looked at her, and tried, with your eyes, with your brows, with everything you could, to tell her that it was fine, to not listen to him.

"I need" he was mumbling, breathing quickly"I need to stop the bleeding"

"I can help"

"no, stay back"

"but may-"

"stay back!" he turned, bitter, stern, and she obliged.

"It's ok" he whispered, and you didn't know if it was to himself or to you

"it's ok" he said, as one of his hands left your body to rummage through his bag.

He found a cloth and immediately forced it on your wound.

"those motherfuckers" he grumbled

"I'm gonna kill them," he said "I'm gonna kill them all, one by one I swear sweetheart" his voice sounded distant, like it wasn't him talking but something so deep inside of his it echoed through his lungs.

he finally raised his head to look at you "They won’t get away with this" he spat, a promise, an oath.

Something flashed behind his eyes, an idea perhaps.

"They're probably still out there. I could catch them" he said,

"joel" you whispered faintly, begging, pleading.

"I'll make them regret this-"he continued, his eyes traveling to where he had set his rifle, his brain already able to feel the rush of adrenaline from killing the bastards responsible for this.

" I could-" he went to stand up" I could-"

"Joel," you said again, louder, messier, and he looked at you, forgetting all about what he had just seconds ago decided on doing.

He took your hand.

"yes, baby?"

"Joel it's not" you coughed faintly "it's not your fault"

You saw his eyes drop,

He didn't believe you

"This isn't your fault" you repeated

"it just happened" you continued, offering the best smile you could master "besides" your hand reached for his cheek "we've seen worse haven't we?"

Only now, as you watched him attentively, did you notice the sheer shimmering coat on his eyes,

"Joel," you said, sniffling "just, please-stay"

"stay with me"

He didn't reply, but as he looked you straight in the eyes you knew,

he gave you a quick nod, and lay beside you, his warmth, spreading through your freezing body.

"thank you" you said, leaning your head on his shoulder, as his arms went to hold you close.

"thank you Joel"

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moonroses-restuff · 4 months

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Stay A Little Longer - Bi-Han x Reader

A/N- this was highly enspired by the recent new ep from the Apothecary Diaries. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: sad Bi-Han, not proof read lol. Sfw

You were on the roof, staring at moon light and stars, drinking some alcohol after such a stressful day. Your body was aching from all that unnecessary training with Bi-Han. You couldn’t help but wondered what was going on with him. He was much rougher than usual during training. Much angrier. Almost like he didn’t care if he hurt you.

It scared you. Luckily, Kuai Liang was there to stop his older brother to cause you any harm. You sighed as you drank up the last bit of the alcohol before you head back down and return to your room. You packed up your things and headed to the area where you climbed up.

Step by step, you carefully climbed down. Only until you were jumped by surprise from a sudden voice.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

You gasped and lost your footing and fell down. You groaned in pain, “Damn, who was that? You startled me.”

“My bad.” You turned around to see who the hell scared you and made you lost your footing when you gasped to see Bi-Han.

“Bi-Han! Why are you here?” You asked.

“I should be the one asking you the same question.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get up then.” You were ready to get up and get away from since he’s been in such a bad mood already since training that you didn’t want to cause anymore problems for you and for him. But suddenly, his big arms wrapped around you from behind, preventing you from leaving.

Your heart skipped a beat, “Could you let go of me?” You said, but he didn’t listen as he pulled you back down and sat you down.

“Don’t wanna. It’s too cold for you.” He mumbled, resting his forehead against your back.

You scoffed, “Ironic since you’re the one with ice powers.”

He groaned, “You’re the one without a jacket at this time of the night.”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t know whether he was joking or not. But you didn’t want to further question him. But that’s when you nose caught this stretch form him.

Is he drunk?

“Are you drunk?” You asked, turning your head to face him. You took a good closer look and you can tell that his cheeks were pink and his eyes were red.

“Can’t help it since Kuai Liang and Tomas were there.” He sighed, burying his face more into your back.

“I see…”

“They both invited me for a drink. Once the booze were out, I filled myself with alcohol until I passed out. Once I’ve woken up, I endured a headache and wanted some fresh air until I saw you climbing down.” Bi-Han explained the details which surprised you. He wasn’t the type of person to be social with anyone. This was probably the longest conversation you ever had with him.

Come to think of it. You did notice how he gobbled alcohol for the past weeks now. You didn’t say anything since his outburst were out of control and didn’t want to bother him. Even, Kuai Liang and Tomas were distant threw out the days. You haven’t been here long enough to know what was really going on. Then again, you didn’t want to interfere with their buisness in the Lin Kuei.

But that doesn’t relate to this situation where you are trapped with his arms around you. You tried to break free from his grip but no matter what you do. He still wouldn’t budge. You didn’t want to be put up with a clingy drunk.

Then something hit you. You technically did fell on top of him, even though he was the one that startled you and he did catch you. It was probably rude of you to not even say thank you to him. Or else, he’ll have your head off by now.

It wouldn’t hurt to say thank you. You turned your head slightly about to say something when you felt something wet dropping on your bare neck. Your eyes widened and turned back to face him only to see tears dropping from his closed eyes. Your heart beats. Bi-Han pulled you closer as much as he can while you stayed quiet.

“Stay a little longer,” he whispered, “Just keep me warm. Just a little longer. Please.”

He pleaded. He sounded so vulnerable and you don’t know why. You took this opportunity to ask him a question.

“Bi-Han,” your soft voice got his attention, “What is wrong?”

He didn’t say a word and you understood. The two of you sat like this for hours. In silent. You can hear his breathing increased as you felt more tears falling. You never seen him like this. You didn’t know how to react or do for him. You breathed out from your nose and relaxed your body as you leaned back, holding his hand in comfort.

Bi-Han wanted to tell you his vulnerability. But he wasn’t ready to open up. No matter how much he wants to tell you about the pain he is facing. He couldn’t. But sitting here with you and having his arm around you was close on being comfortable. The warmth of your body made him ease up a bit. For that, he’ll thank you for this moment one day.

Perhaps one day, he’ll open up to you about his mother’s death anniversary that he drank himself up for the past weeks. But for now, he just wants to enjoy this night with you and not bother you with his issues.

A/n- need more vulnerable Bi-Han. This is my first time writing in a while. Ignores some Grammars lol

#bi han sub zero #bi-han mk1 #bihan #mk sub zero #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bihan x reader #bi han x you #bi han

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luneshallshine · 1 year

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more than friends. (m) | choi san

ღ " i'm catchin' you starin' again, i swear all this shit isn't just in my head. i know that we're more than ... " more than friends by isabel larosa

you and san have been friends since you were little kids, you and him just clicked in a way that no one could describe. with how lovely he was, how could you not harbor feelings for him? he was so good to your parents, your friends, anyone and anything you loved basically. you two were like glue. so when you two slept together and san became distant, you became worried that you had ruined it all. fucking alcohol.

f!reader, childhood friends to lovers, mentions of drunk sex, college!au, unrequited love but not rlly, happy ending, light angst, fluff, san's going to be irritating but he'll come around.

...

warnings for the smut: explicit, praise (both ways), mild body worship, lots of emotions (aka crying), oral sex (f and m receiving), san likes to bite n kiss, slight dirty talk but nothing too cringy, petnames (darling, my love, princess, good girl) , protected (wrap it up! you fuckers.), aftercare ofc !!

ღ word count: 3.3k

ღ a/n: i luv the singer's new ep/album so i had to write to it !! oneshot !!

♫ playing now : more than friends/butterflies/heartbeat by isabel larosa, stay/hush by ari abdul, stargirl interlude by the weeknd, & needy by ariana grande

dedicated to the loml @meifasol enjoy my luv :)

you rolled around in your bed, your head pounding, you groaned and whined from the pain. you stirred slightly and then someone else groaned, you nearly screamed your head off before your mind recognized the voice.

"... san?" you spoke, your voice hoarse.

"yea? good morning to you too," he replied, and that's when you felt his hand around your waist.

that's when you felt everything. your lower half was sore beyond repair, your throat ached and your vocal chords were tired, and you felt san's body, a mere t-shirt separating the two of you. clearly, something had happened the night before.

"let me go. i want to get up," you said, fighting against san's grip.

you two had cuddled when you were younger, but you hadn't ever since you both hit puberty, seemed like his iron grip never changed. san whined in response and you smacked his hand lightly, causing him to yelp and let go. you stood up with mild difficulty, quickly stretching yourself out before walking to the bathroom.

"what happened last night?" you wondered as you washed your face with cold water.

as you slowly woke up, your lower half suddenly felt extra bare. you shifted slightly and gasped.

"where's my underwear?!" you whisper-screamed.

you didn't have the full picture but you were sure you knew what happened last night, you and san fucked. you slept with your childhood bestfriend, but you couldn't even remember it.

"dammit, why did i drink so much? i wanna know what happened...!" you whined.

you had liked san ever since you guys hit high school, something changed in the way you looked at him. he had gotten into volleyball and started going to the gym, growing into his body nicely. sure you had liked him prior, but you were more sure of it in high school. you liked him even more now, even as san changed physically, his personality and morals never shifted, he was forever your san.

"y/n. you done yet? i needa pee," you heard his voice outside of your bathroom door.

"shit, yea, sorry," you replied, wiping your hands on one of your towels before opening the door.

seeing san now after you had deducted the two of you had slept together, he was so much more attractive. he was shirtless and had put on some sweats after you left him in your bed, his hair was messy and his face was still puffy from waking up, but you couldn't help the feeling in your heart. you really loved this man.

you walked past him and decided to try to eat something. you looked through your cabinets and fridge, deciding on something that would quell your hangover. as you ate in silence, you heard footsteps nearing the kitchen. san stood in front of you and looked at you, more awake now.

"do you remember what happened last night?" he asked, playing with the strings on his sweats.

"... no i don't. do you?" you honestly replied, what if you were wrong and nothing had actually happened?

san's face dropped, he sighed and turned around.

"i got something to do today, i'll catch you later y/n. you can call me if you need me," san spoke, leaving you alone.

ok. you two definitely slept together, if only you could remember.

you haven't seen him since that day, it's been around two weeks. he hadn't texted you at all, posted on his instagram, his friends haven't seen him at all, you were running out of clues to find him.

wooyoung said that san hadn't been to dance practice in a long time, that their teacher said that he had been sick.

yunho and mingi, san's roommates, said that he hadn't been home in a while, saying that he was visiting family in namhae.

seonghwa, san's coworker at the coffee shop you two liked, said that he had not shown up to work because byeol had gotten sick.

"that's all his friends, they're all giving me different excuses! i don't know where he could be jongho!" you whined, cradling your head.

jongho hummed deep in thought. you called over your friends jongho and hongjoong to your apartment, desperate for their advice.

"well he's definitely avoiding you," hongjoong spoke.

"thanks captain obvious," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"hey i'm just trying to help!" he yelled, offended.

"you're not very good at it!"

as you two bickered, jongho was deep in his thoughts.

"wait, you haven't asked yeosang yet. go ask him, maybe he'll know," jongho spoke.

"oh my god. you're right! thank you, you're the best!" you exclaimed, patting his head lightly before leaving the two men in your living room.

hongjoong grumbled as jongho smiled in satisfaction.

you called an uber to drive you to the gym, you knew san liked to gym around this time.

yeosang and san were gym buddies, meaning they spent a lot of time together. once you made it to the gym they frequented, you walked into the reception area.

"shit i don't have a membership, how do i get in?" you whispered under your breath.

the workers stared at you weirdly, likely wondering why you were just standing there. you quickly sat down and pulled out your phone, searching for maybe a trial membership or if you could afford one, when you heard a voice say your name.

"y/n, you're starting to gym?" it was deep and soft.

"yeosang! no, i was just looking for you!" you replied, smiling.

yeosang had just walked into the gym, likely ready to start. he laughed and gestured for you to follow him outside, you walked after him and the two of you walked into the parking lot.

"do you know where san is? i've been trying to contact him for the past two weeks but he won't answer," you asked, waiting for yet another excuse.

"... san? oh he's coming to meet me soon! you can talk to him then," yeosang said, smiling.

"oh yeosang, you savior! thank you!" you exclaimed, hugging him.

the two of you talked about nothing in particular, when a male voice called out.

"yeosang-ah! you ready?" san yelled, not that far away.

yeosang must've covered you because san didn't seem to react to your presence yet. the latter got closer and yeosang moved to reveal you, san stopped in his tracks.

"... what are you doing here?" san asked, his voice cold and distant, a tone he never used with you before.

"... 'what are you doing here?' why so cold to me, huh? what did i even do to deserve being ignored by my best friend? answer me, san!" you yelled, an unspoken frustration apparent.

the man of your desire stayed silent, avoiding your eyes.

"look at me you coward. you tell me what happened that night, if you're not scared," you tried to provoke him, "or will you stay distant and watch us drift? it is your call choi san."

he visibly gulped.

"yeosang, sorry, i can't gym today. let's go y/n, we can talk at my apartment. yunho and mingi are at a party tonight and you know how they can get, they won't be back until tomorrow afternoon," san offered his hand.

"just go. you're taking too long," you ordered, watching as he turned around and walked to his car.

yeosang waved you guys goodbye before walking back into the gym. you and san walked in silence to his car. he opened the door for you, like always, before going to the driver's side and starting the car. usually that gesture would warm your heart, but now it just confused you.

you felt like a teenager again, fangirling over any miniscule thing a guy would do for you, but then again, this wasn't just some guy, this was san.

he lowered down the music in his car as he drove, perhaps he was silently hoping you'd talk to him. the angelic sound of the singer's voice calmed you down.

"that was 'more than friends' by isabel larosa, up next is ..."

he pulled into his parking spot in his apartment complex, getting out and opening your door for you on the other side. the two of you hadn't so much as whispered a word the whole car ride. you two walked up to his apartment, you felt like you'd honestly die from the awkwardness. once you made it in, san threw his gym bag to the side before engulfing you into the tightest hug.

"i never meant to upset you y/n, i never want to hurt you ever, you're of the most important people in my life," he began, "i'm so sorry for ignoring you."

"why? just tell me if i did something. say if i did nothing at all, do you know what i've thought about while you were ignoring me like a little kid? 'i must have done something horrible.' 'something happened that night.' 'i fucked up.' 'he hates me.' all of that," you spoke, tears threatening to fall.

"no. no i could never hate you. i ... realize now that i overreacted. i don't really remember either, what happened that night, i just remember ... that we kissed at the bar. we were both a little tipsy, but i guess you more than me. you said you loved me. and i, i don't know if you were saying the truth but it didn't matter to me. i've loved for you for years y/n. years! after you said you loved me, i downed more shots and then i don't remember what happened after."

"... why did you run away?"

"i thought i messed up. that you had regretted it and-"

you grabbed his hands tightly, tugging him down and kissing him.

"please shut up. we both know what happened right? do you regret it? i don't."

"i only regret not being able to remember our first time darling," san replied.

you laughed, san smiled in response, tugging you with him to his room, walking past yunho's and mingi's.

you heard the click of the lock on san's door, as he kissed you.

"surely we'll remember tonight, right?" san asked.

—smut below.

san kisses you nice and slow, gently and loving, as he always is with you. his hands float up and down your body, almost ghosting over your skin. you can feel the slight tremor in his hands as he battles his own desires.

"you can touch me san, you can touch me now, don't worry," you whisper into his lips.

he hums and finally you feel his hands on the parts he had never touched before, the parts he had never dared to. his hands ghost over your chest, your waist, your lower back, your butt, your thighs, and back up to cradle your face.

"bed, please?" san almost whimpers, "i want you so bad. i want to see your beauty, let it imprint onto my mind. please, my princess?"

"undress first."

he frantically nods and immediately begins to take off his clothes, his eyes never leaving you as he watches you removes yours. he keeps his boxers on and you leave your panties on.

"... now?"

you nod and allow him to push you onto his bed, him caging you in his protective arms. he leans down to kiss you once more, before travelling down and he lingers over your chest.

"... can i?" san asks, you can feel his breath on your skin.

"yes, please san, i want you," you reply, relaxing into his bed.

he hums as he leans down to lay butterfly kisses on your chest, down to your stomach, cradling your thighs as he lets his lips linger on your inner thighs. you couldn't tell if he was teasing you or he was stuck in his thoughts before he opened his mouth, letting his teeth run on the inside of your thighs.

"can i bite? please?" san mutters, his voice muffled by your thighs.

"... yes you can."

san bites down gently, you can feel him humming in pleasure as he bites and kisses to his heart's content. it felt nice, yes, but he was so close to where you really needed him.

"saaan ... please touch me," you whine, pushing his head slightly away from your thighs.

"... but i am touching you darling," you can almost hear the smirk on his face, if only he wasn't muzzled by your thighs.

"you know what i mean! don't be such a tease!"

he laughs softly as he ghosts over your panties, leaving a kiss on the wet spot that has formed, causing you to shudder.

"... if you don't touch me i'm leaving your bed, i mean it."

"but i want to take my time with you my love, i've been waiting for years," san says, kissing at your clothed clit.

you squirm away from his lips, shoving your panties off, watching as san's eyes never left you.

"don't you want to touch me, lover boy?"

"... i always want to touch you, my love."

"then do it, or your princess will find another prince," you smile.

he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to where his mouth waits for you, when his lips finally touch your bare clit, the jolt of pleasure you get is like no other. his lips are soft and full of love for you, you can feel it as he kisses your clit and rolls it tenderly on his tongue.

"you taste good, princess."

"worth the wait?"

"of course, your prince would've waited another decade to have you."

you know that you're not his first, he isn't yours either, but you do know that this is both of yours first time making love. the true first time.

"your princess hated waiting, you know," you reply.

"... sorry," he briskly replies before going back to your pussy.

his tongue dives into your folds, the wet sounds filling his bedroom. you can feel san rutting into the bed, low moans leaving his mouth as he gets off on your taste and the accompanying friction.

"god i can't get enough," you can hear him groan, though he doesn't separate from you far enough for you to clearly hear him.

he adds two of his fingers into you as he moves back up to your throbbing clit, but he's slow. he's so slow and gentle that you feel like you're getting rocked to sleep. of course you're not going to fall asleep, not when you have your dream man between your thighs, getting off on your taste and moaning just for you.

"s-san, saaan, i'm gonna cum, i feel it," you alert him, he hums in response, causing further simulation to your clit.

"please cum on my tongue, i need to taste you. come on, my good girl, on my tongue now."

the simulation gets too much and you cum onto his awaiting tongue, san humming in approval.

"taste so good darling, you were such a good girl."

you watch as he sits up, wiping off his mouth and chin, then your eyes drift down to his crotch. he's got a boner that anyone could see from a mile away, maybe you're exaggerating but who cares?

"can i return the favor?" you ask, looking at him expectingly.

"well, what prince would reject head from his princess? a crazy prince is the answer," he replies, taking off his boxers.

san's well endowed, nothing too cartoonishly ridiculous, but you can't say he is small, that's for sure. he giggles as you pause for a minute, just admiring his dick.

"i-i'm getting a little worried, darling. how long you gonna stare for?" he breaks your thoughts.

you laugh before moving towards him, he watches as you gently grab his dick.

"aaah... please," he moans.

"i didn't even start yet sanie!"

"i-i'm sorry! you'd be sensitive too if the girl you've dreamed of for so long was touching your dick! god please, you feel so nice already, i need you, please, i need you," san rambles, getting more whiny as he sees your mouth close around his tip, "mmh! so warm, i'm going crazy already."

you slowly lower your head onto his dick, guiding his right hand onto your head. san gently grips onto you, exhales of "oh shit" and "oh fuck" fill his room. you're slow too, but he doesn't mind as he hits the back of your throat.

"god..! yes! just like that, good girl, taking me so well."

you hum in response, causing him to flinch in surprise at the vibration it causes around his dick. he groans as you bob up and down, you zone out around his dick, getting drunk off his noises.

his eyes have never left you, he refuses to close them as he tries to imprint the sight of you deepthroating him into his mind. when you look up at him, he moans loudly and he swears he almost cums at the sight of you.

you're so focused on his dick that you don't hear his first whine of "stop", but you hear the second one and immediately back off.

"is something wrong?" you ask, wiping your mouth off.

"n-no nothing wrong. i just want to cum while i'm inside you, is all. your mouth is way too good darling," san replies, blushing.

"where are your condoms, san?"

"i'll get them, hold on, i know yunho shoved some into my cabinet a few weeks ago... here they are! come on, i wanna fuck you so bad."

you laugh in reply, letting san lay you on his bed once again, pumping his dick softly before positioning to enter you.

"you'll tell me to stop if you want to, right?"

"yes i will san."

"good girl."

he enters you slowly, you clutch onto his broad back and shoulders, the stretch so plesant and nice.

"so good sanie, you feel so nice," you moan out, causing him to kiss your neck in response.

"y-you, aah, you feel nice too. god, i won't last long, i'm sorry," san says.

"mmh that's fine, i won't last long either, just do what will make us feel good."

"of course my love."

he ruts into you roughly, the soft persona he had gone by now, your soft moans turn into loud ones as he pounds into you, rubbing your clit in circles. his moans almost overshadow your own, his eyes are mostly closed in euphoria, but he opens them to look at you.

"kiss, please kiss," san moans, leaning down to messily kiss you.

the two of you moan into the kiss, his pace gradually building up as he gets closer.

"i love you, i love you, i love you so much y/n."

you two cum at once, you almost trembling in his hold as you two ride out your highs. you look up at him and you see that tears have escaped his eyes.

"you ok sanie? too much?"

"n-no, i just, i can't believe i have you. you have me, never in my life did i think you'd find me good enough."

you tear up at that, the two of you ignore that he's still inside of you as to two cry it out.

"i love you more, my prince."

"never."

you two bicker as san pulls out and carries you to the bathroom, making you pee as he readies the shower.

"let's shower and go to sleep," san speaks, you nodding in agreement, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"can i just say i called it?" wooyoung said, almost gagging at the sight of san feeding you grapes whilst you sat in his lap.

"called what?" san asked, glaring at his best friend.

"that you too were more than friends! gosh everyone could tell! even yeosangie!" wooyoung yelled, yeosang looking at him in shock.

"i couldn't tell. i just thought you two were really good friends, but you're cute regardless!" yeosang said, causing wooyoung to whine and hit him, yeosang laughing as he did so.

san laughed and leaned to kiss you.

"i am so glad you love me."

okok, this is my first actual smut. don't come for me.

ღ lune

#ღ the lune sees all #ateez #san #choi san #san fluff #san angst #choi san fluff #san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #choi san smut #san smut

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stnexus · 7 months

Text

thinking about…a little weekend nap with satosugu!

general audience — fluff

satosugu x blk!fem!reader

warnings: l-bombs, pretty chill

with the recent ep. and chapters. i need this, WE need this. established poly relationship between satosugu + reader

names used(?): baby, princess, lover(s)

word count: 650+

the distant sound of birds chirping and and playing about in the trees was one you had grown accustomed to every weekend. it was the one time where everything was perfect. no responsibilities, no stress. there were three thick blankets padding the ground of your fenced back yard, the sun was covered in a flurry of clouds — stopping it from hitting you directly. a slight breeze in the air shook the leaves on the trees.

with a book in hand, you lay on your stomach your mind barely grasping the words in front of you as your eyes threatened to close. the book slowly slipped from your single handed grasp, landing with a slight thud next to you. hearing the crunching of grass under the weight of someone’s feet you didn’t even attempt to move. already knowing it was just one of your lovers. it was like every part of their being had been engraved into your memory.

“well don’t you look comfortable,” gojo’s voice rang through, you didn’t have to open your eyes to know a little smile played at his lips. you forced your eyes open though, tilting your head up and taking a glimpse at the man standing above you. his white hair swaying gently. grey sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips, and a black tee baggy covering his lean build.

“hey ‘toru,” you attempted to smile drowsily, “i feel like i’m about to fall asleep actually.” your confession was pretty much obvious to gojo as he moved to sit on the blankets, slender hands moving to gather your splayed out braids and wrap them in a temporary bun. the hair tucked into itself for security.

“we can take a nap together,” gojo spoke softly, his blue eyes tracing your face — white lashes framing them beautifully. “sugu is inside reading. i’m sure he’ll probably join us at some point.”

a hum of agreement fell from your lips as you moved closer to your lover as he laid down. moving somewhat underneath you, gojo laid your head on his chest, fingers gliding along your clothed back. one of your legs as hitched over his waist, and in no time you caught yourself drifting off again as the birds chirped.

it was only a matter of minutes before geto had made his way outside. his hair pulled into a messy bun, some strands loose and framing his face. the gray basketball shorts that he wore moved with every step and so do the white muscle tank that he wore. as he neared you both and took in your sleeping forms he felt his heart swell.

the sight was the most gorgeous thing to him. his two partners cuddling and fast asleep with not a care in the world. the bit of sunlight escaping from behind the clouds highlighting you both perfectly.

“you two would fall asleep without me,” he mumbled jokingly to himself as he began to lay on the blankets as well. geto wrapped an arm around gojo’s waist, and maneuvered himself with his head on the other side of his chest. his face right across from your own. reaching over he glided his hand gently across your cheek and paused as you stirred in your sleep.

“hey, suguuu baby…” you called out half asleep. the way you knew who was who without opening your eyes was always astonishing to them. something that drove them crazy about you.

“hey princess, go back to sleep,” he spoke as his hand continued on with its motions. the brown skin of your cheeks smooth under his fingertips. “i was just joining you two. ‘noticed the house got quiet.”

a hum sounded out as quietness began to envelop you all again. geto was sure you were asleep again, until he heard you speak in a mere whisper. sleep playing at your voice as you didn’t move an inch or attempt to open your eyes.

“i love you two.”

“and we love you too baby,” geto responded gently.

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trendywaifus · 11 months

Note

nezuko x reader where only mc can calm down demon nezuko in a fit of rage (missing tanjiro as he sustained a lot of injuries and is still crawling back to your wherabouts)

this is a very old draft, but i wanted to finish this for the new ds ep! so spoilers to those who haven’t seen the anime or read the manga! I kind of cut sum stuff out to avoid making it longer. hi there anon bud uh hope you’re doing okay!

you screamed in horror as nezuko hungrily lunges at the innocent injured woman with the intent to devour her. as fast as your aching legs can take you, you jumped onto nezuko’s back, and slot the blade between her teeth to prevent her from hurting the poor woman. you cringed as her teeth nearly sinks into your (f/c) blade. you forgot how strong she was!

“ nezuko, please calm down!! fight it! you have to resist it! “ blinded by her intense hunger, nezuko hustles around, growling, screaming as she tries to remove you from her body. you held on tighter, squeezing your eyes shut as you desperately beg for the girl to snap out of it.

“ don’t worry! [name]’s here! your brother will be here soon too, we’ll make it okay! just—“ you gasp as your back harshly met with the celling. crying in pain as the two of you fell back to the floor with you still on nezuko’s back, refusing to let go, you desperately prayed that tanjirou would hurry back and help you calm her down. “ nezuko, please! you mustn’t give in!-“ in attempt to get you off her body, she throws herself into the thin wall, crashing into another room full of bystanders. the angry demon blindly clawed at you repeatedly and managed to scratch your cheek and ear. “ ow, ow! shit you feisty minion, you’re scratching me! “ the bystanders in the room cowered on fear, stupidly watching the scene unfold. “ why the hell are all of you standing around for, run! is everyone here just stupid bimbos and stupid horny bums?!-“

abruptly, nezuko braces herself and jumps through the ceiling to another floor. you coughed horsely at the dust filling your throat and you’re starting to lose the remainder of your strength. the grip you managed to hold around her waist weakens. the bystanders around you screamed at the sight of you and nezuko coming through the floor. much to your luck, daki who seemed severely burnt, angrily stalks towards you two with her sashes ready to strike. you cursed under your breath, you can’t just let nezuko go with innocents near by! in a flash, tengen appears beside you, marveled by nezuko’s transformation. he comments on her violent behavior completely ignoring the demon behind him.

“ tengen! you lame ass wannabe sissy, can’t you see the weight of the situation here? help me out! “ the hashira shrugs, uncharacteristically unbothered by your insult. “ what do you want me to do about it? it’s quite a shame that kamado boy is having you babysit his own sister. not very manly of him when he talked so big in front of master. why not sing her a lullaby? make it quick, the fight isn’t over yet. “ before you can curse out the man for his lack of support, growling, nezuko suddenly lunges herself backwards, smashing through the wall and throwing you two out of the building. your stomach dropped at the gut-wrenching realization that it was going to be a hard fall.

your body hit the ground roughly, knocking the wind out of your lungs. your vision filled with black spots as you peer up at the cloudless night sky in exhaustion. your consciousness is slipping, nezuko’s violent growls and grunts of anger grew more and more distant. at this point, nezuko is halfway from finally ripping herself from your body until a familiar voice booms from the distance.

“ (name)! please, hold nezuko off for just a little more, i’m almost there! she’s trying to get away! “ snapping back to reality, you swiftly snatched nezuko back to your front by the blade still pressed between her teeth. she aggressively reaches her hand out towards the building and you followed suit, grabbing ahold of it in a tender manner. you take a deep yet shaky breath, leaning down towards her ear and whispered, “ it’s time to simmer down now, your big brother tanjirou is going to be here soon. we’ll all be together again.“ the warmth in your voice, your tender words, and the way your hand is grasping hers strikes a familiar nostalgia within her.

her aggression seizes and much to your surprise, she bursts out crying. you released the sword from her mouth and tossed it to the side to comfort her until she reduces to a small weeping child asleep in your arms. the sound of rapid footsteps approach and tanjirou bends down next to you to drink in the sight in front of him. he places his calloused hand on her temple gingerly. “ are you alright (name)? thank you, thank you for looking out for her when i couldn’t. if i only got here sooner. .”

“ don’t start with ifs now, tanjirou. tengen and the upper moon is still inside. “

“ r-right! “

#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny #kimestu no yaiba #kimestu no yaiba x reader #nezuko x reader #kimestu no yaiba imagines #kny tanjiro kamado #kny tengen #kny daki #tanjirou kamado #tengen uzui

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sixhours · 2 months

Text

Morning Sickness

Rating: Teen Word count: 1.2k

Notes: Post-ep for season 11. That “season finale” inspired me to try to make sense of the nonsense, and maybe give Mulder and Scully a chance to start to deal with the shit they’ve been dragged through.

Originally posted to AO3, Mar. 26 2018

It's dawn when Mulder shifts the car into park. A drizzle mists the windshield, muddying the house’s looming form, the dim glow of the porch light their only welcome. Next to him, Scully sleeps deeply, his jacket tucked into the crook of her neck.

He reaches across the console to touch her cheek. "We're home."

She stirs, blinking, before fumbling at the door handle in a rush. She's out of the car before he can offer to help, making her way to the house. He watches with concern as she pauses at the foot of the steps, leaning on the porch railing for a moment as if to catch her breath, before disappearing around the side of the house. He winces when he hears retching.

Skinner was going to make it, they said; a lumbar spinal fracture and two broken legs meant he had a long recovery ahead, but he was alive.

Reyes hadn't been so lucky. Mulder found her slumped in the driver's seat of Spender's car, blood pooling in the corner of her eye. Scully had moaned softly behind him, turned, vomited bile onto the pavement.

It wasn't until later that he remembered; Reyes had delivered William, had held him as he'd taken his first breath.

Mulder shudders, stumbling forward to check on Scully, finds her crouched over the overgrown garden. There's a lone rhubarb stalk struggling to greet the day, leaves beaded with rain, a survivor among the bittercress and chickweed.

"You OK?" he asks, feeling helpless.

"I need to eat," she murmurs, standing. "The nausea is worse if I don't."

He reaches for her hand, takes it, guides them inside. She shrugs off her coat, then ducks into the bathroom and closes the door.

Mulder stands in the kitchen, unsure where to begin. It had felt good -- too good -- to put aside reason, to put his finger on the trigger, aim, and let the bullets do the rest. He thinks of gunpowder residue and blood spatter, pushes up his sleeves and scrubs his hands until they're raw.

When that's done, he opens the fridge. She needs to eat. Bread, lettuce, turkey; this, he can manage. As he works, he doesn't think about the water lapping at the dock, doesn't think about watching himself fall backwards, doesn't think about the bullet lodged between his son's eyes.

He cuts the sandwich in half and sets it on the table with a glass of milk. She doesn't like milk, but it's good for the baby, right?

The baby. Christ.

He sinks into a chair as the weight of the day hits him. When she comes out, bathrobe cinched around her waist, he's staring at the table with his head propped in his hands.

"Thank you," she murmurs, sitting down, picking up half the sandwich and taking a small bite. Her expression is distant and closed, the dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. It's a long time before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice is almost inaudible.

"I had a...a vision," she murmurs, sipping her milk. "I saw William."

Mulder's pulse throbs, a glimmer of hope expanding in his chest. "You...he's alive? You're sure?"

She nods, avoiding his eyes. Bite, chew, swallow, sip. Repeat.

"How...?" he leans forward.

"I don't know," she sighs.

"If it's true, there's still a chance we could find him," Mulder says, thinking aloud. "We could--"

"Mulder, stop. Not now, I can't..." She trails off, ducking her chin, and he thinks of the warmth of her stomach against his blood-flecked palm. "He can't be another quest. You have to let him go."

Mulder swallows. "But...he's alive."

She nods, pushing the plate back. "He's weak, but he's safe. For now."

"Then he'll find us," he says, more to himself than to her. "Someday. When he's ready."

She presses her lips together. When she answers, her voice is hollow. "I'm going to bed."

"Scully..."

But she's already on her feet, moving toward the stairs. He watches her go, feeling lost, unmoored.

He's alive.

Mulder wraps the untouched half of the sandwich and puts it in the fridge, pours the leftover milk in the sink.

He finds her in the upstairs bathroom, staring into the mirror, her reflection haunted and pale. Steaming water runs into the basin, unnoticed.

"Scully?"

She startles, meeting his eyes before reaching for a cloth, but doesn't answer.

"Talk to me, Scully," he says, wishing for a church, for the ease they found over a prayer candle.

"Everything," she frowns, rubbing at her face with the cloth until the freckles across her nose burn pink. "Everything I tried to prevent for him, everything -- it came true."

She dabs lotion on her chin, under her eyes, punctuating each word with angry, jerky movements. "I lived with the guilt of his adoption, but there's nothing I could have done," she says, turning and striding past him to stuff the cloth into the hamper. "I never had a choice."

"Scully--"

"They used me, Mulder," she whirls on him, voice rising. "They used my body to make monsters. And I loved them, and they were taken from me. How can I bring another child into the world with that on my conscience? What hope do I have of keeping them safe, when everything that's come before has been ripped from my hands?"

She breaks off, her breath ragged, swiping at the corners of her eyes.

"What they did to you is unforgivable," he says, approaching her. "But this...this is different. You have a choice."

"I can't do it again," she breathes, eyes pressed shut. "Damnit, Mulder. It's not fair."

"No. No, it's not. But you don't have to do it alone," he whispers, taking her face in his palms, searching her eyes. "Do you want this, Scully?"

"I do," she says, her voice cracking as the tears pool in the whorls of his thumbs. "I do, so much. But I wish I didn't."

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. "So we'll make it work."

He imagines he can feel her eye-roll against his chest, but she softens. "Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that. I'll trade in the Mustang for a minivan, we'll get a Baby Björn--"

She sniffs. "What the fuck is a Baby Björn?"

"I have no idea," he admits, chuckling. "But if the number of missed calls on my phone from Kersh is any indication, we'll have a lot of free time to figure that out."

"I'm fifty-four, Mulder," she sighs, her voice small.

"And your breasts will be the envy of every grandma at the AARP."

She barks a laugh into his chest, fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as her laughter dissolves into a sob. He nuzzles the hair at her temple, kisses it, sways with her until the storm passes.

"What can I do?" he murmurs when her breathing has calmed.

"Just...hold me."

"That's what got us into this mess," he says, nudging her cheek with his nose, eliciting a tired smile. He pulls back the covers and follows her into bed, pulling her back against his chest. His fingers trace the line of her hip.

Tentatively his hand slides forward to her abdomen, barely touching, asking permission. She places her palm over his in answer, pressing down, guiding him to the spot just above her pubic bone where a gentle swell has already formed. He swallows hard, overcome with love and sadness and fatigue.

"I don't have it in me to hope for this, Mulder," she murmurs, her voice rough.

He kisses her cheek, whispering a prayer to the nape of her neck. "Sleep. I'll find enough hope for the both of us."

#the x-files #fanfic #season 11 #fox mulder #dana scully #fox mulder x dana scully #post-episode

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nahoney22 · 1 year

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Keep Me Close

Echo X GN!Reader

word count: 824

warnings: SPOILERS FROM EP 8 SO DON’T READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN IT 💜 Angst, one sided confessions, secret mutual pining. But some fluff if you squint

Echo decides to stay with Rex to fight for his brothers - you can’t let him go without saying your peace.

Masterlist

As the others made their way to the ship, bidding farewell to Echo with heavy hearts, you were left standing there, facing him with a mixture of sadness and regret. Omega approached, her eyes filled with tears, and offered you a sympathetic look before she too returned to the ship.

Echo stood before you, his expression unreadable, but your eyes were already starting to burn with unshed tears, the reality of saying goodbye to him hitting you like a freight train.

"We'll give you a moment," Captain Rex spoke up, leading Riyo to a more private area and leaving the two of you alone in the hangar.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Echo took a step forward, trying to speak, but you raised a hand to stop him. "You couldn't even tell me you were doing this?" Your voice was tinged with hurt, the pain of his departure hitting you hard.

"Cyare, let me explain," he sighed, the soft nickname he used for you only serving to exacerbate the ache in your heart. "I have to do this. I can't keep losing my brothers. It's the right thing to do."

You were silent, absorbing his words and struggling with the realisation that the thought of him joining Rex and leaving you behind was no longer just a distant worry. Your love for him, which you had kept hidden, was tearing you apart. He was the person you wanted to spend countless hours with, the person you considered your safe haven, but now all those feelings remained unspoken. Your love for him was always like the rain, starting out slow but growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I understand," you said, wiping your eyes as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. "I just wish you had told me earlier, not just as we were about to leave."

As he rubs the back of his head, regret gnaws at him for never confessing what he was about to do. "I'm sorry," he apologises, his voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in those two simple words is enough for you to close the gap between you, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He buries his face into your shoulder, his eyes closing tightly as he savors the warmth of your touch. Your heart feels as if it's splintering into a million pieces, both from the pain of his departure and the intensity of your embrace. "Finish what Fives started, Echo," you whisper in his ear, pulling away to gaze into his eyes that hold a mixture of courage and sadness.

"I will," he replies with conviction. "This isn't goodbye. I'll be back, like I told Omega."

With a quiet sniffle, you ask the question that's been plaguing you, "And what if you don't?" Your lips quivers as you look down, but his gentle touch lifts your face back up to meet his gaze.

"I will," he says firmly, promising you with all his heart.

In a moment of recklessness and perhaps selfishness, you make a confession that had been weighing on your heart. "I love you, Echo."

His eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment you swear you see his lips tremble. He struggles to find the words to express the depth of his feelings, voice stuck in his throat as he begs his mind to let him speak, to let him shout and scream how much he feels the same. He’s looking at your eyes, your lips, your skin, everything. He wants to encase your lips with his own; a desperate surge of emotion.

But all that escapes him is a ragged breath, as if something is choking his voice.

His silence was enough however and you let out a choked sob before turning away from him, wiping your tears as you head back to the ship.

You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears that were pouring, but before you can go too far, you glance over your shoulder and offer him one last smile. It's a heartbreakingly beautiful sight that may haunt him for leaving you.

"Keep us close, yeah?" you say, your voice cracking with emotion.

"Keep me close," he whispers back, watching as you disappear from sight.

If he does make it back, you'll be there waiting, ready to love him with all your heart. Because deep down, you know his love for you is real, even if he never says the words.

Your love for each other was like a cruel twist of fate, the epitome of a "right person, wrong time." Though he can't say it, his love for you shines through in every moment you have shared together.

You felt his love. He didn’t need to say it. He showed it everyday.

Masterlist

More Echo Works

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @myinnerwonderlandmind @rintheemolion @kaminocasey @hotpinkplastoid @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @crystal076 @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @s1st3r @taskfork-archive @by-the-primes

#the bad batch #bad batch echo #echo x you #tbb echo x reader #star wars #tbb #bad batch

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asexualjedi · 1 month

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Having Bashir and Garak bicker at lunch like a few episodes after introducing the concept of cardassians flirting by arguing 👀

#st #ds9 #the great ds9 rewatch #the episode that started it all #well this rewatch at least. it’s the first Meghan saw so what got her interested in watching this show #ep: distant voices #3x18 #garashir

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svtminji · 8 months

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EP. 14 Relationships Aren’t Built To Last | SEVENTEEN : HIT THE ROAD

pairings. seventeen x oc word count. 2.8k content warnings. family stuff, mentions of johnny like thrice, ankle twisting, mention of seungcheol anxiety hitaus, a slight hint of mizuki's depression, knetz (japan new era-sana situation), joshua and mizuki's moms being bffs, mizuki's self-doubt, comfort tbh, angst.. dialouge notes. 'normal' = korean, 'italic' = japanese, 'bold' = english, 'bold-italic' = spanish an. enjoy this three hour written htr episode lol..

The female member sighed as she continued to get ready. All of these years of performing on stage and not a single memory would comfort her in this time of need.

"What if I missed a step in the choreography, what if I mess up the vocal pitch, what if I twist my ankle, what if-"

"Minji, we need you to start putting on your mic pack and your jacket." A distant voice disrupted her thoughts. She turned around and saw her long-term stylist trying to rush her into getting ready.

"Sorry, I'm just.. just distracted."

"There's no need to be distracted if you're going to perform for your fans. You need to put your best version of yourself no matter what, and being distracted is not an excuse."

"I know that, but I-"

"Minji, you need to get ready. Your members are waiting for you." The female stylist argued and ended the discussion.

Right. The staff weren't family no matter what, even if you spend years together with them.

͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏hit the road - intro

͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀⠀⠀episode fourteen - Relationships Aren’t Built To Last

— “Osaka is a place of comfort for me. It’s a place where I can see myself spending time with my loved ones. But with the events that played out, I can't see it as that anymore.”

🫧 𓇼 ೀ OSAKA, JAPAN. - 10.2019

The camera cuts to Mizuki staring at her members. Everything during this stop wasn’t going right, and it was evident on everyone’s faces. She didn’t want to appear weak, but the cameras caught her face in a demise. The female member was going through something that was eating her alive, her love for her then-boyfriend. It was reasonable that she would eventually have to call it quits but so early into the tour? Not only was that consuming her but the extra pressure she put on herself. She needed a break, or she just needed to break down her walls.

The camera goes from Mizuki to Seungkwan, who’s having a bit of a concern for her.

“Hey Minji, are you doing well? I’m sure you’re excited to be in your home country, right?” He asked, knowing the answer that’ll come out of her lips.

“Huh..? Oh, I’m doing well. I think I’ll have a few problems but it’s not something I haven’t experienced at all before. I really missed Osaka, it’s very important for me.” Mizuki replied, though it didn’t sit right with the rest of the members around her. She was in a sitting stance that showed defensiveness, and not-ready-to-share vulnerability.

They all knew she wasn’t ready mentally to go out and perform like she did in Seoul. She was still together with Johnny during that time, and this was her first concert without him. When they had the countries and cities listed for the Ode To You Tour, she recalled the time she had brought her special person to Osaka.

— “I don’t like to appear weak. It’s something I never allowed myself to show, but I also have feelings. Now that it has been months from ending it with Johnny, I have been better and I would like to think that having support from my members and our fans made it happen.” Mizuki said to the camera and stopped for a bit, “I don’t want to make this about him, but he is someone who’s been by my side for a long time, even before Seventeen. I think people wouldn't want me to talk about him, so I’ll just end this talk for now.”

🫧 𓇼 ೀ OSAKA, JAPAN. - 10.2019

"Whenever I have the time to come home, I always think about my family. I had the chance to fly out my parents from the States, and I'm getting a little nervous. Because I have diverse parents, I don't get the chance to see them all the time and I think that's what the foreign members and I have in common." She told the camera with a slight smile. It was the truth and she had to realize it one way or another. It was 5 hours before the concert, and she sat on the couch figuring what to do to pass time.

By the looks of it, Mizuki was really excited to showcase what she was working on to her parents. Being an idol wasn't the easiest job and being away from home was even harder. At least she had family in Japan, but it wasn't the same without her parents there with them.

– "Mizuki really kept to herself for most of the tour. We had talked about how it was going for her, but she didn't mention any of her actual feelings about the situation she was in." Seungcheol mentions, reminiscing about the tour, "She works hard, and when her parents couldn't make it to Japan, it really took a toll on her."

The video cuts to the cameraman focusing the camera on the worried Seungcheol. He had his phone by his ear and he scanned the room for the female member. With the call ending, he pulled it away from his ear and went up to Mizuki. Seungcheol told her to come with him, and he pulled her aside from the rest of the members. To the viewers, it was evident that Mizuki's parents couldn't make it, but to the members, it was worrisome. The leader and co-leader (with the cameraman as well but distant) were outside of the waiting room. Seungcheol didn't know how to start and the way Mizuki was staring at him, she wanted to know what was going on.

"You said your parents were coming, right?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I paid for their tickets and luggage. Why is this anything important?"

He looked at her and held her by her shoulders. "Your mom called me, and with her level of Korean, she told me that they can't make it to Osaka."

As soon as he stopped talking, he watched the gears work in Mizuki's head. She spoke in a timid voice, "Not even to the rest of the Japanese tour?"

He shook his head, "They can't make it to Japan. She told me that they have too much going on at the moment and they wanted me to tell you because they know how you'll react to the news."

Mizuki just looked at the floor and kept her gaze there. Many thoughts ran threw her head but only one question came up: Why? Why couldn't they make it? Did they not care? Was she not worthy to be seen? Did they not lo-

"Hey," Seungcheol lifted her chin so she could face him, "I'm sure they'll explain it to you soon enough. Don't forget we're having the LA stop, so you can see them there as well."

Though she nodded at his words, she couldn't help but let out the tears. Sensing that this would happen, he pulled her into his embrace, letting her cry out as much as she wanted. All words that was exchanged were comforting, and that was all Mizuki needed to hear.

– "Do you usually cry?" — "To be honest, I'm quite a crybaby when I do get extremely emotional. My mom giving Seungcheol the information first was probably the best idea because I don't think I would've told my members about the situation. So, thanks, Mom."

🫧 𓇼 ೀ JAPANESE TOUR - 10.2019

Other than the unfortunate incidents with Chan getting sick and Mizuki's parents not being able to come, the Japanese tour went well. But of course, the feeling of being well breaks soon after. There were times that she felt like she wasn't doing the best at protecting her members or even looking after them. Of course she had to worry about herself first, but there was always a feeling of incomptence.

She would never say it out loud, or even to her members, but she felt like she was useless at times. During the Japanese stops, Mizuki spent her time translating and helping out the members in Japanese. With the events that had played out early 2019 about the new Japanese Era, she felt like she couldn't express herself in her mother tongue. At the Chiba stop, she expressed her worries:

"When I had posted something about Japan's new era, I was not in the best state. As much as I don't let hurtful words affect me, in a way, they still do. I'm thankful to even be here with my members and I hope everything can go well in the future."

🫧 𓇼 ೀ NORTH AMERICA - 01.2020

The stops during the first two weeks of January went fine. Mizuki was put up the the co-leader role because Seungcheol had taken a break for his anxiety. Every new stop and it had felt like every member was missing or just complete done with the tour. Touring in North America meant English interviews and that was tiring for the main English speakers of the group. There was no rest period in between the US dates, and frankly, she was tired.

— "As part of the trio of main dancers, I do get my injuries and my ankle had twisted pretty badly during Houston. I never understood why my stylist paired my outfit with heels, considering encore was pretty extreme. Though I did make it out fine and continued the rest of the tour with flat shoes."

The cameraman filmed each member getting off the stage and Mizuki was seen limping in the background. The scene cuts to another scene with an ice-pack around an ankle. Discarded heels were on the ground and a blanket was wrapped around Mizuki's lower body.

"I think I twisted my ankle when we were Aju-Niceing," Mizuki sighed at the memory, "I don't think it's pretty bad and I think my feet have gone through worse."

"You should still take it easy during these next cities. It won't benefit any of us if our second leader leaves as well." Jeonghan points out, making his way next to her to which she scoots to give him room to sit.

She paused, then she agreed. He had a point and she couldn't let down her members. Mizuki laid her head on his shoulder and focused her gaze on the resting members. The manger had entered the room and he was announcing the next stop: Mexico City. Right, how could've Mizuki forgotten her father?

"Could you pass me my phone? I should call my dad, like right now." Mizuki asked Mingyu, who happened to pass by it. He handed it to her and Mizuki started to find her father's contact.

She placed it on speaker and on the second ring, he answered. The rest of the members knew Mizuki's parental situation and they always found it interesting how she would speak in her father's native language. Though, they would be confused with their dynamic.

"Hi Dad, I just got off work like a few minutes ago."

"Ah, my Mari. How was it?"

"It went well but I'm pretty tired from all of it. How about you?"

"I've been well as well, work has been hectic but it's my job. I'm sure you understand. Mom's been great too, as well as your brother. He's been struggling with his English homework and that boy is literally fluent in it."

"Really? I'm glad that you and mom are doing well. And there's no way he's struggling at it; I'm definitley going to talk to him about it. Um- I forgot to ask, are you coming to Mexico City? I was thinking you would at least see your home country."

"I'm so sorry my mariposa. As much as I would love to go, I can't."

Mizuki sighed, it was Osaka all over again. "It's fine Dad. We have two stops in California anyways, I'm sure you and mom are going to both."

"Of course, why would I miss it when I have you so close? Don't forget your brother, he's coming as well. Alright kiddo, I'm figuring that it's close to 12 over there and considering you have a concert in two days, you need to rest."

She humed in agreeance, "The members are here incase you want to say any goodbyes. They've been listening to the converstation."

A faint laugh is heard in the background. "You decide to tell me this now? Wow. Cannot believe my own daughter. Your mom can tell them my goodbyes for me." He passed the phone to his wife. "Hi Mizuki, and hi everyone! I hope everyone had a good time at the concert. Thank you for taking care of our Mizuki and don't worry, Joshua's mom and I have prepared food for all of you guys when you arrive. Have a good night! Bye Mizuki, love you."

The beep is heard throughout the room, and everyone glances at Mizuki. She stares at her phone screen and sighs.

"At least it wasn't that bad," Soonyoung tells her which makes her look up at him, "I mean, your dad told you he's not making it to Mexico, and it's one more stop til you see your parents."

"Yeah, not to mention it seems like my mom has used a lot of her Korean to your mom. And they prepared many things for us, so let's look on the bright side." Joshua also commented on the matter.

The members agreed with what the older had said, and to their suprise, Mizuki had agreed as well. Maybe it was for the best to not look too far into it.

Mexico had gone by in a flash and the members were on their way to the Golden State, California. The home state of Mizuki and Joshua and most importantly, where both native Californians would see their family after a long time. As soon as Mizuki had arrived at her childhood home, she ran into the embrace of her parents and her brother. Luggage was forgotten, picked up by Mingyu on the way into her house, and all that was in her head was her family. Everything that had happened in the past year went away and it felt like she was finally healing.

— "When I had made it into my childhood home after a year or so, I felt like I was at peace. Obviously my past year didn't just dissolve as soon as I entered the house, but it felt like it did. Talking to my mom about what had happened was very therapeutic for me and I think having such a close relationship with my mom has really made it even better." She spoke. "I also believe it was also a good time for Joshua to bond with his parents because he had been away from them around the same time as I have. We spent the rest of the day resting and enjoying the embarssing stories."

🫧 𓇼 ೀ SOUTHEASTERN ASIA - 11.2019 & 2.2020

It was not looking too well for the members during November. Every tour stop had one or two members missing, and now with Seungcheol taking his well-deserved rest, it felt like more were gone. Mizuki stepped up to the leader role and needed to have everything in check. Sometimes she felt like she was incompent as a leader but she didn't want to show it.

– "Mizuki doesn't realize that we can see her struggling. As much as we see her struggling with her emotions, we know when to intervene and when not to." Jihoon adds, "During the time Seungcheol was gone, I feel like everyone went in some sort of panic but Mizuki really made a difference by taking the role he had. There was a change in leadership, but it wasn't so noticable."

February roles around and the third stop in Southeastern Asia comes around. Manila was always beautiful place, especially it's architecture. Spanish colonial times had an effect on the city, and Mizuki always took her time looking around for familiar tastes.

Manila was an amazing night, considering it was the last stop of the Ode To You Tour. Unfortunately with Covid-19 rising, Pledis Ent. had to cancel the two remaining stops in the Southeastern Asia tour and the European Tour.

Though none of the stops held strong importance to her, she felt bummed out on the idea that Carats couldn't see them due to the pandemic. Entry to countries was getting harder, especially coming from Asian countries. All Seventeen members were sent to South Korea days following the concert, and had strict rules placed. All Mizuki knew was that the world tour had ended, and she could finally have her peace. Or so she thought. Considering how Jihoon works in his studio, she knew there was a comeback happening soon.

— "Even when I'm at my lowest, my members are always here for me and they can always count on me to do the same for them. I started the tour as the same person I was, and I left it feeling different. Perhaps it can be for the better or for the worst."

this draft has been here for MONTHS. like as soon as i started this account. i began rewriting this fic like a few days ago and in the last two hours, i think i wrote over like 1k words :3. i rewatched hit the road after like a year or so and having to sync up events from memory onto the fic is like hard for me. this isn't like the rest of the htr episodes and i wanted it to be special. this fic mostly was based on her family stuff. so yay!!! svtminij est. 2023

#svtminji #kpop #kpop oc #seventeen 14th member #seventeen oc #seventeen #kpop added member #seventeen added member #seventeen female member #kpop female oc #seventeen female oc #seventeen female addition #svt #mz:hittheroad #svt:hittheroad #seventeen x oc

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hexonthepeach · 26 days

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a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 27: wild

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [26: fallen]

wc: 7.3k

warnings: action violence, mild omega slander

recommended listening: box - nct dream (truly enjoying this ep)

Your face is buried in a strange texture, the scent even more unimaginable. Dirt–real and rich as a forest floor, scattered with dead leaves and flakes of bark. Rot and green and something carbonized as well, a scent map that transports you back a decade and a half, hundreds of clicks due north on the 127th meridian.

Home.

It can’t be. This dream is too real–trees rising on either side, the chittering of insects and birds echoing from their tops, the moon centered above beyond a green haze of aurora–

No, you think. That shifting light is too distinct in its pattern, too geometrical to be a natural phenomenon. Your head throbs as you slowly register the familiar bright rectangles of color visible through the leafy canopy, the sound-dampened rumble of voices.

“Welcome back to the main event. As our guests return to their seats from the intermission let’s set the scene. Tonight we have a very special stage, a little corner of the Wild carefully transplanted for your entertainment.”

The announcement through a speaker sounds underwater, but Key’s voice is unmistakeable.

You’re back in the arena. But that’s also impossible–there’s no way the breadth of this space could fit even in that huge room. This is something different. A botanical garden? A zoo? Enclosed, you think, much warmer and damper than the Neo Seoul night you’d shivered against earlier on the rooftop.

“For the safety of our esteemed guests we have transported our participants in tonight’s death match to a confidential location, to demonstrate the resources granted to us by our newest corporate sponsor, Zhirafa Technical Manufacturing.”

Zhirafa? The name has no meaning to you.

“This display of our Park clan ally’s newest offerings for private and public security celebrate their new investiture to our NSMP response teams. Let’s hear a few words from our sponsors.”

You pick yourself up, tripping on the ridiculous train of your gown, shaking a small storm of leaf litter free. Your slippers are gone, feet deadened by cold and inactivity, coming back to life with your pacing around the opening in the forest.

“Help!” you shout.

You hear your voice echo in the vast structure beneath the music of some distant advertisement, muffled by the dense trees. Based on the autocar-thickness of the trunks and their building-tall height this isn't new growth–this must have been here for years. That the treetops haven’t broken through whatever is containing them overhead is a testament to how well-architected it is against it.

“The classic Savannah line has been modernized for Neo Seoul’s most prescient threat: the cyber-fitted feral alpha. Tonight’s demonstration is proof that in the war of organic and robotic, the apex predator will always be the one that can’t be killed.”

The music swells above you, scored to a video you can’t see.

This is where real fear finds you, remembering anthems played in the distance over speakers. The constant chatter of gunfire, the arc of rockets overhead. You taste metal and gunpowder just the same. Kicking at the ground with your bare feet displaces weathered shell casings and bits of exploded plastic beneath the leaves.

There’s no way you’ve been transported North. It would take days, not minutes. They don’t even know you’re gone if this stupid game was proceeding with you at its heart.

No, it dawns on you. This must be an NSMR training ground.

You knew them best from the melos, places where new recruits from Seoul had trained to fight against Neo-Manchukoan guerilla forces, acting out their deaths before inevitably meeting them in the Wild.

You have to alert the audience somehow–get out before the event begins. Even if you don’t have a mic and tracker there’s the familiar low-register buzz of drones overhead, you just have to get the attention of one.

“Is anyone out there?” Your voice echoes a little less, the artificiality of the soundscape revealed in how the birdsong and insects continue unphased.

There is something–though–the rustle of leaves nearby that makes you twist around. Your ears swivel towards the noise, hunching low out of instinct and searching for something to use as a weapon.

“No more surprises, please,” you speak without saying, backing away from the unnatural gleam of blue-white in the thicket.

[Present identification, citizen.]

The voice is electronic and uncanny, different from your kidnapper’s in being devoid of any humanity at all.

“I’m not a citizen,” you say, calmly, “I’m Lee ____, born–”

There’s a metal-on-metal sound, pneumatics hissing as the thing breaks free of the bushes, four-legged and bristling with attachments of dull chrome.

The robotic construct is built like and yet unlike any large cat you’ve ever witnessed–larger than Johnny in his original form. It’s surprisingly smooth in its movements despite its clunky profile, its metal claws and chain-like tail just as ridiculous additions as the grenade launcher fixed to its back.

[Scanning] the drone says, giving you the grace of a few moments to keep searching for a weapon as a white net of light is projected from the thin rectangle of its eyeline.

You think for a moment you might have made it before the scanner pulses from white to red, metal jaw opening wide, fangs sharp past the light.

[Level 3 security protocol in effect. Unknown intruder detected. Countdown T-10 to detainment. Do not attempt to flee.]

Terror rushes through you, animal brain screaming to bolt while your rational self tells you to hold, to not give the drone a reason to chase you. It’s absurd, treating an artificial creature as having an instinct but a step to the side is answered by a mirror-like movement.

“Is there anyone there?” you plead. “I was abducted here. Get me out.”

[6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . .] the impartial countdown continues.

“Nine hells,” you mutter, ripping off your outer robe and approximating the stance of a matador with an angry bull as you begin to back away.

You don’t have experience with these kinds of machines but you understand programmed intelligence–the limitations are cartoonishly absurd no matter how many years of advancement have tried to make them as reactive as a human mind.

[ 3 . . . 2 . . . Engaging protocol.]

You wait until the drone lunges at you, wait longer to watch it break to slam its stun-paneled flank sparking from conduced energy, before throwing the swatch of weighted fabric towards it.

You have seconds of its head and body being covered to turn and bolt, path of retreat already erratic before you glimpse a red-shaded observation camera in front of you, the blink of another–

It’s visible for an instant ahead of colliding with cold metal and 50,000 volts pulsing through you in a heartbeat.

You can’t even scream.

Your body seizes and rolls across the ground–stunned. Heavy thuds hit the earth around you as the drones close in, mechanisms grinding and whirring. One of those wicked three-pronged paws bears down on your chest before you can curl away, pinning you to the earth.

[Cease resisting, citizen.] the drone’s pre-programmed voice is oddly calm. [Further resistance will be met with deadly force, comply until additional units can be engaged.]

“Fuck . . . you . . .” you wheeze with the remaining air from your lungs, screaming once you’re able to pull in air. “Get OFF OF ME!”

Something–someone–rumbles overhead, guttural and loud.

The drones attention on you breaks, met with a flash of chrome as the unoccupied Savannah Panther darts up the side of the nearest tree. It’s absurd watching that stupid thing claw the wood uselessly, unable to fight the pull of gravity on its dense chassis.

The shadow above takes advantage of its struggle, attacking as the drone is sliding down, before its hind paws can hit earth again.

The impact shakes the ground, metal screeching as black furred arms tear the drone’s jaw from its skull with barely any give, a fluid movement stabbing the jagged metal deep into its visor. Sparks fly from the downed Panther, unable to see but further assaulted by that shard pulled out and dug into its neck.

Your own Panther makes the choice between continuing to hold you down and dealing with the more obvious threat–suddenly you’re free. You twist in the soil against the awful pain in your chest, struggling to get up and finding the exposed back of the predator creeping towards your savior.

Without thinking you pounce, climbing on the back of that wretched thing.

You have to hold on for dear life as the drone drops and rolls you both, limbs and head rotating to try and dislodge you. You grasp the cannon-like protuberance from its back, claws digging into the exposed pneumatics at its base to disable its hindquarters before several hundred kilos of angry robot can buck you off.

“Why don’t you just self-destruct–” you hiss, tearing your hands raw hooking into the gaps of its plating for its more-fragile innards. A rotor dies, the cat stumbling as you feel the launcher under your chest whir into life.

[PleaaAAAse comp comp comp–]

The electronic voice jitters into intelligible speech as you rip another cable or hose–some snakelike thing spewing gas in your hand, the entire forest floor blinking red from the malfunctioning unit as the launcher fires.

You brace yourself against an explosion–realizing that the cannon lacks compression and ignition when there’s a pop and the grenade rolls to the ground, barely out of range. The sight of that palm-sized canister makes your entire body go cold, fear breaking your fight into flashes of horror.

Faded green writing on a metal can, leaves in a circle. Biotechnica.

“It’s a bomb, eomma?” you ask.

“Spring,” your mother corrects. “Bom, not bomb. But yes, a bomb.”

She pulls the seedling blooming from the torn canister, showing you the remaining markings in English.

“Nothing is burning. Where did everyone go?”

You’d looked around you at the new growth, strange for it being in the middle of what had once been a bustling refugee market. No people remain–wrecked stalls enveloped in fresh herbs and blooms out of season, bamboo and fruit trees bursting through the cracked pavement of the train station.

“A long time ago someone predicted the planet would go silent, if we kept destroying and polluting it.” Your mother says. “Men made this to try and stop it.”

You accidentally kick something at your feet–a dense twisting of vines and mushrooms that appears to be vaguely human-shaped, like someone curled onto their side. Spores rise up into the cold winter light, like specks of gold.

“When you see this, don’t touch it, don’t even move towards it, ____, just . . .”

“RUN!” you scream your order, looking up to see that dark-furred hybrid bash its opponent drone a final time into the shuddering, splintered remains of a tree trunk.

You can make it, you can get out of here, both of you–

Crunch.

The sound is more horrible than the pain with the adrenaline rushing through you, metal jaws closed on the back of your thigh gripping you in place and pulling you facedown into the dirt.

You fight against the stuttering hold, feeling cloth and muscle shred between twin fangs, crawling towards the protector who’d taken your instruction literally, but towards you, not away–kicking something just past your head–

The explosion compresses the air inward before blowing it out, the force of its blast throwing you free and against the nearest tree.

You know it’s not an incendiary grenade. There’s no red flash or the heat of fire–no sound except the ringing in your ears from the sonic boom.

Your vision streaks with green-yellow, a swirl of dust washing over you and that familiar smell . . . something like the rain after a drought. It's burning so deep with each lungful you can only cough as the scent fills your lungs and nostrils, trying to get it out.

Through misty eyes you see the thing beside you, booting back to life, cat-like jaw working beneath its blinded visual sensor. The battered Panther drone picks itself up from newly-formed moss and plant-life, red lights blinking on its chassis casting the newly grown meadow in shades of horror. You claw weakly at the grass, cringing away from the metal claws.

And then, a roar–

–not from the drone, but him.

He’s so real and loud it breaks past the damaged muffle of the explosion to resonate within you, that black belly and the ghost of its weight over you so familiar it hurts more than the oozing, aching awfulness in your leg or the internal damage from your pathetic fight.

You’re back in that abandoned building, terrified and dying as Taeil and Yuta try to keep you amongst the living, your unlikely savior a thing with no resemblance of the man buried within.

It’s not an easy fight for him, at least, not with the Panther drone recognizing the threat of 1500 PSI of bite force in the jaw closing around its armored neck. The cats rise in a two-legged, clawing grapple, the earth drumming beneath you with each stomp of claws beside your face, metal and organic, dirt and contagion blinding you as you shrink away.

Not a thing, no. Your mate.

“Youngho,” you whisper, realizing too late it's the wrong time–the jaguar pausing for a moment in its battle to twist around towards you, yowling when metal claws rake across his thick black hide.

“Left side,” you gasp. “Wires, left side.”

The jaguar hears you, at least in the backwards turn of those gold-dusted ears. He uses the unbalanced weight of the construct against it, climbing atop it the way you had, but much more elegantly, rolled with less visible damage.

Sparks fly as he tests each weakness with yellow-white teeth embedding in the metal and synth plating, ripping chunks free until the repeating electronic scream of that thing dies, the grenade launcher in its back unable to fire with the critical point of information cut clean.

It drops to the shifting ground, just so much scrap. Leaves twine around it, growing slowly at least, shoots erupting through a metal carcass.

The flesh-and-blood cat roars over its frame, triumphant, clawing and kicking roots over its destroyed corpse. He’s unaware of the danger, only visible to you as the self-destruct cycle begins, numbers streaking across the lit visor screen where its eyes should be.

“Run,” you say, having already given up, cheek pressed into the familiar scent of home.

Jaws close on your back, snagged in the fabric, picking you up as he drags you away like just another kill. You make it as far as the brush, leaves ripping at your face, before the world explodes again.

This time in fire.

Everything about this entire ceremony-turned-circus has been sucking him down into the last point of control but this is the final straw on the camel’s back. Mark is incensed, claws out without any conscious control to hide them.

He’s starting to understand what Johnny had said about it hurting every time, that after a while the pain of them piercing the skin barely registers. The constant burn in his ears and his spine is more worrisome.

“We need to speak to the Crown Prince,” he says, shoving Haechan back when he slithers up beside him. The younger Canid is on a warpath, having already chucked the last Kim attache’s tablet into his face so hard it knocked him unconscious.

“Against the rules.” The servant seems to be enjoying the experience of saying no to their ragtag Nyctos contingent–all four of them with Renjun limping beside him, supported by Taeil. Yangyang had already been transported to one of the medical centers, unable to be roused from the stun that had crashed his system while Yuta went to security to investigate the feeds.

The man’s eyes keep flicking up between a personal roster of wagers and the modified stage behind them with its ghostly phantoms of trees and lights in the 360 degree model of the next arena.

The fight should have already started a long time ago, but Key has stopped announcing anything besides advertisements, agitated murmurs in the crowd revealing that something is deeply wrong beyond the obvious absence.

This ends now, Mark thinks. If they want their bets and bloodsport it can wait.

“Tell him the Princess Consort has been kidnapped,” he finds himself saying, earning the immediate attention of the men–no, the buzzards–flocking around his cousin and pack leader. They look down on them from the vantage of their booth, Choi Siwon laughing.

“Impossible,” Elder Bang says, leaning over the edge as he pokes slowly at his agent. “This building is secure.”

“We were attacked by an unknown assailant, a solo,” Renjun reports, tail whipping behind him. “Check the security footage in the west side service corridors.”

“Did you see her taken?” That gray-haired old doctor makes his way down, AR glasses scrolling with information. Mark’s nose wrinkles at the lavender-like scent of the tobacco on him, something oily and metallic underneath.

“No,” Renjun says. “They knocked me out before I could go after her–”

“Contusions, skull fracture–” he assesses the fox, signaling to Duke Kim to call for additional medical support and security.

“We’ll send a team to the site and investigate,” he says to the Duke. “Quietly. We don’t want anyone panicking.”

“We can’t track her without an agent or a biochip,” Mark says. “We’ll need to check all exits–”

“First and foremost, keep quiet, we don’t need to raise an alarm,” Duke Kim says. “Is the Tenth Prince secure?”

Mark gestures towards the illuminated royal box, frustrated already with the lack of response. “Does it look like he’s missing?”

“Check yourself, Lee.” His uncle-by-law threatens, fixating on Renjun with a measured look of disgust. “You’ll watch your tongue or we'll let this fall on your heads.”

Mark immediately feels the surge of anger that’s been so quick to strike aflame these past few days–the recognition that another is attempting to dominate his Alpha.

“This is on your security, not mine,” he warns, eyes flashing up past the crowded entrance to the booth. “I will speak with our pack lead–”

“He’s occupied,” Elder Park joins them on the stairwell, looking entirely unsurprised by the news. “You’ll report to me.”

Mark takes one look at his smug, modded face and makes the decision to breach the fifteen-foot gap between the outer arena floor and the heavily-decorated exterior of the Syndicate booth, fuck formality.

He’s been itching to use his new claws–wishes he had a tail to make scaling the wall less awkward.

The Syndicate’s security response is immediate in the barrels of several guns aimed at him by the time he peers over the ledge, teeth gritted against the ache deep in his shoulder as his boots skid on carved wood.

“What in nine hells,” Taeyong stands along with a number of Syndicate guests, disrupting an entire table of drinks, credit chips scattering.

Mark is grateful when he reaches out to take his arm, sheathing the claws digging into Taeyong’s red military jacket as he pulls him over. “What are you doing?”

“____ is missing,” Mark hisses, heart pounding in his chest, turning between the multiple barrels pointed at them both, moving to guard his cousin despite knowing they’re treating him as the threat. “They almost killed Liu, too.”

“Stand down.” The Crown Prince is–mostly–himself, though he’s slurring heavily and reeking of liquor. He looks down at Duke Kim, brows lowered, until the elder gestures dismissively for security to lower their weapons.

“We’ve already deployed a team to search for her–”

“And I’ve got our NSMP representative on it. The whole building should be put on lockdown–” Mark begins.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Choi asks, moving to Taeyong’s side. “We don’t need Ten–the Imperial contingent finding out.”

“Relax,” Elder Bang adds. “That one is still safe in his box with his guards.”

“Right,” Park agrees. “She’s probably still in the building. Best to continue with the event and track her down before that freak can find out she’s given him the slip. We’d never hear the end of it.”

Duke Kim sidles over to their meeting, tablet in hand. “Entrance scans are negative. She’s still in the building. Reinholdt will find her.”

“See?” Taeyong pats Mark on the shoulder, handing him a drink that hasn’t been overturned. “Our Princess will be fine. We were just celebrating the good news, you should join us.”

There’s a familiar drumbeat on his shoulder as his cousin and pack leader embraces him one-armed, as the Syndicate heads and their entourage of cronies and Lottery escorts raise their glasses in a toast Mark refuses to participate in.

Mark doesn’t even realize he’s being signaled, distracted by the sheer number of recognizable enemies in this booth–-cold eyes fixated on him. Faces his mother had made him memorize, when they’d first been taken hostage.

“Such a smart boy,” she’d said, inspecting his homework, the artificial breeze of the Dome ruffling the pages in her manicured hands. “You still have so much trouble with your English spelling. Your father did, too.”

It had struck him that it was a lie, even then at twelve years old, with the books he’d grown up with in multiple languages in his father’s study–the ones his mother never seemed to want to read for herself or him besides Scripture. None of them, here, now in the Palace.

“You don’t have to learn any of that nonsense, precious child. Just learn the codes. Learn how to speak the language of the enemy,” she’d said.

O-K-A-S, is what Taeyong is saying in code. Okay, wait. Over and over again.

"Our clan finally has a 4th gen representative," Taeyong says aloud, proudly. "Reinholdt will do a determination of the hereditary profile once we've wrapped."

Mark pulls away from that repeated tap on his shoulder, letting his real anger out.

“Is that all you care about? Would it kill you to show some concern for her?”

He ignores the familiar bark of Haechan arguing with a guard below to maintain eye contact, watching Taeyong’s ruddy eyes blink at him, a lazy smile sliding across his mouth.

“C’mon Mark. Don’t be like that,” the Vulpine says, leaning in to whisper loudly in his ear. “Even if you didn't get a chance the kit's still your family–”

Mark grabs him by his jacket front, surprised by how easy it is to handle his cousin, realizing too late how drunk he is. Doyoung’s absence is worse than he’d ever imagined.

“She was raped,” he spits out.

Taeyong laughs in his face, quickly joined by the rest of the booth. Choi moves to intervene, waved off by the Crown Prince.

“That’s just omegas, right?” Taeyong drawls. “Always asking for it.”

More laughter. He knows his cousin isn’t like this–doesn’t believe any of the lies about his own designation–but it still makes him sick to acknowledge the words coming out of his mouth. For the first time in his entire life, the brother he’s chosen, the one he’d risked his life and limb for, is unrecognizably ugly.

“Did you take advantage of her, too?” Mark asks, tone deadly.

“She begged me for it.” Taeyong says with a shrug, earning more of a response from the corpos and their escorts. Mark lets him go, disgusted.

Taeyong turns to their audience, lifting his glass. “You’ll forgive my cousin, he’s never had the pleasure–”

“Fuck you,” Mark says, waiting only as long as it takes for Taeyong to turn back to wink at him before punching him across the jaw.

Fresh shoots spring from the ground, stringy tendrils catching at your skin and blossoming into flowers crushed under your weight as you’re dragged away.

Buried deep–a part of you kicks and screams and fights to return to it, to be enveloped within the decomposition of the environment and recreated as something new. Only your fox would remain, flesh melted down to the bones, the human side of you disappearing into the new forest.

But, no. You have to fight back. Those despicable bastards had brought the Wild to Neo Seoul.

Not just the aesthetic sensibility of it but the bioterrorist weapons used in the war, the bombs that melted human flesh into raw organic material, feeding new life. You’d been exposed before–thankfully never close enough to alter you fully.

It wouldn’t kill you–no, but contamination would pull you back to the animal you are. You might not be able to shift, not with your therapy, but you'd be in jimseung.

Even now your fox twists and lashes out with her claws, rending flesh, feeling it in your chest—your neck–as you’re dropped to the earth.

The rage makes you incandescent, fur rippling ruddy and black across your arms as you sneeze and paw at your face, half-expecting to find the fox’s snout where your nose remains as human as ever.

You’re far enough away from the strike zone, you hope. You might be able to fight the influence of the contaminant but an Alpha without anti-shift doesn’t stand a chance.

Indeed, Johnny has reverted past the point of communication, the jaguar’s movements purely animal. You try to drag yourself away as he circles you, chin pulled in with a display of dominance. His mouth is open wide, giant teeth exposed as he tastes your scent.

You bare your own canines and growl a warning. Back off.

The jaguar vocalizes in answer, a chuff almost like a laugh. Then he’s rolling you with his massive head and paws as he greets you with unadulterated excitement. When you mewl out in pain he freezes, tongue mid-swipe over your face, dropping down to sniff at your chest and the bloody wound on your thigh.

You yelp when he rips at the torn skirt with his teeth, having a moment of panic at the thought of him deciding you taste good enough to eat and pushing back on the cat’s heavy brow. His orange eyes flick up at you, gently cleaning away the drying blood and dirt as he blinks slowly at you.

At least he doesn’t seem to think you’re food. You’re being treated like a kit, pushed down by a paw when you try to get back up, all so he can continue grooming you. You roll on your back in submission, breath sucking in at the pain in your chest.

“You still in there?” you ask, weakly.

If the Syndicate is watching it would be dangerous to order him again but you know if you don’t he’s going to lick the top layers of your dermis off trying to treat the bone-deep wound.

He rumbles like an engine in answer.

“Come out,” you whisper your order.

You feel him change back, heat and moisture roiling over you from the release of mass and energy. He lifts up from your legs in a daze, eyes still bright with his cat.

“You’re safe,” he says, lisping a bit with the lingering changes to his teeth.

“Neither of us are safe here, you fool,” you scold him, coughing at the dryness in your throat. “You most of all. You were supposed to run away, not into it.”

You roll to your side to spit out pollen-yellow saliva, trying to ignore the bloom of fungal spores and ground cover from the thick wad.

“Don’t even get a ‘thanks’,” Johnny retches a little, coughing up his own lungful of goo. “What in the hell is this stuff–?”

“Spring gas. Jimseung poison,” you say. Of course he’d never encountered these bombs, as far as you knew he’d never made it that far North. “They must have wanted you to fight feral.”

“How are we–”

“We were lucky,” you say, tiredly, testing your leg and crumpling back to the ground. Somehow he’s managed to catch you by the ankle, the both of you wheezing as you succumb to the effects, unable to fight against him as he pulls himself over you.

“It’s old ammo–probably degraded,” you explain to distract yourself from the press of his body. “High enough heat can burn it off–”

“You’re here.” The way he whispers the words tugs on your heart, all dreamy and wistful.

You don’t acknowledge it. “Yes, I’m here. I can keep you out of jimseung, I think. We’d have to stay together–”

“You’re here,” he repeats, forehead pressing yours as he rubs his nose against yours. “My precious little kit.”

You push on his shoulder where the echo of his rosettes are burnt black into his golden skin, muddying his re-emerging tattoos.

“Don’t you get it, you idiot? You’re in danger, they want to kill you–”

“So I should be thanking you,” he says, drowsily, looking down at you with unfiltered affection. “For saving me.”

Johnny is mostly human–eyes dilated so wide only a thin ring of honey-colored iris remains. His ears and hands have remained changed, tail swatting at the air beyond the clean lines of his naked body, fur still visible where his hair grows naturally.

You know he’s struggling against his cat, a feeling like fire racing over his skin as he finds the only therapy available. You’re lifted up bodily with a cry, going limp as his face buries in your neck and rapid breaths douse your shoulder. Claws prick and unprick through your clothing where he’s wrapped completely around you, nuzzling against your racing pulse.

“God, I missed you,” he says. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He folds down with you still at his mercy, heartbeat slowing marginally as your pheromones bring him to a calmer state.

“Stop making that godawful noise,” you protest, wriggling in his grasp.

“You don’t like it?” That only spurs him on more, licking at your neck as you cry out, fists uselessly pressed to his bare chest. Johnny rumbles in contentment as he rubs his cheek over and over again against you protectively. As much as you try to wrest free he holds on to you tighter, unable to get enough. He's warm and tender–all things unwelcome in this place.

“Get off of me, you pig!” you bark. You can’t order him here, can’t reveal anything that might compromise you both, but you can still try to extricate yourself from what feels like a more dangerous situation than the one you’ve just fled. This isn’t the time or place for an intimate moment.

Johnny lets you go. You only make it a few inches, pushed down face-first into the soft leaf litter and further assailed by searching hands over your leg. His touch sparks a new flame through the ache, your fox desperate for him to continue comforting you physically.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Feel like I was hit by a truck,” you groan, inhaling sharp when his tongue traces your oozing wounds again. “Stop, please.”

“You do taste different,” he murmurs, idiot’s grin in his voice. “Sweeter, like candy.”

“If you don’t stop this nonsense I’ll make it so you can’t speak, again,” you say over your shoulder. You can’t let this continue, not with your body’s reaction to this much-longed-for care.

The unspoken threat carries through–he eases off of you, still straddling you. He leans down to nudge the side of your face with his nose. The intimacy has you more dizzy than the contamination, body surging up unwillingly as your tail swats between you.

“Even with everything I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, lips trailing over the side of your face. Your heart is racing, the world blurring beyond as you avoid kissing him back, eyes clenched shut against his attention.

“My beautiful little kit,” he murmurs. “When we get out of here I'll take care of you so good. Make you a nest just right for you to–”

“How much blood did you lose?” you ask, too aware of the hot drip of it from his side.

“‘M fine,” he says, licking at your ear. “Felt like dying not knowing you were alright.”

You are most certainly not alright. You struggle to turn over beneath him, meeting him with your mouth against his jawline.

“Johnny,” you say. “We’re being watched.”

“They know who you belong to.” He’s high as a kite, you realize–probably more on pheromones than the gas. It’s so incredibly stupid considering the circumstances but then so is everything about this trial. He seems to realize it as well as something passes over him, a moment of consciousness.

“Was this part of your plan?”

“No! What plan?!” you put a hand to his mouth as he smirks down at you.

“Someone dumped me here to complicate this knowing you'd be dosed,” you whisper as quietly as you can, shoving at the blanket of his wide shoulders. “But it's good. If I wasn’t . . .”

You both know he wouldn’t be here at all–just the jaguar. You think the smallest push would send him reeling back into his true form, without even a sliver of the humanity he’d spent years learning how to keep surfaced while in full shift.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “We'll get you to safety, we can’t risk any harm to–”

“We can’t risk them seeing you feral, or fully shifted,” you deflect. “We just need to find Jae–”

Johnny hisses, not as comical as it should be with the rage you can see twisting his expression. You instinctively snarl back, scratching at his shoulder. It snaps him out of it, retreating in an instant, looking as hurt as if you’d yanked his tail.

“Control yourself,” you say, scuttling back, testing your injured leg. “He’s not your enemy. Who knows how many more of those things are out there. We need to work together.”

“He’s not taking you. Over my dead body,” Johnny says. It’s really a wasted effort to try to speak to him with the Alpha in charge, his body movements whiplike as he listens for a threat, nose twitching against the thick smoke from the embers of the explosion drifting in your direction.

“You’re mine, I told him you were mine–”

You try a different tactic, placing your palm in his wild hair to calm him. It works like a charm, his shoulders rounding as he leans into the touch and butts his head against your chest.

“Of course I’m yours,” you soothe.

He looks up at you warily, tail stilling. At least he’s smart enough to know your words don't match your intent.

You push your luck a little more, bringing his head against your breast and massaging his scalp behind his velvety ears. The Alpha quivers with excitement, making a sound deep in his chest as he rubs his human face into your belly instead.

Though you cringe at the gesture there’s a trace inside of pure peace, especially when he reaches around you to hold you again like his life depends on it. That motor-like attempt at purr is back, loud and vibrating you in a way that makes your resolve melt.

Whatever compulsion he’s feeling, the only thing motivating him is ensuring his mate is safe. It makes him brainless but it’s also endearing–and your fox is no wiser. She’s never been more satisfied with herself–you’d be rolling in the dirt in pleasure if you weren’t fighting to stay alert.

“If you want to protect us you’ll do what I say, won’t you, Youngho?” you ask, feeling him nod as a whine-like noise comes out instead of words.

“I can only trust you if you stay in control. You need to stay in control.”

Only enough to be believable, you think. You can’t forget your audience, after all, as sweet as this might appear to an outside observer, his tendency to submit to you can only be considered a weakness. No, there has to be a limit.

“We’re going to find Yuno,” you begin, carefully enunciating the other’s birth name while pulling away. “He can help us get out of here–”

He manages at least two seconds before he stiffens and breaks, rising up over you. Your fox is submitting immediately, unabashedly aroused by this display of dominance.

“Not. Him.” he says between clenched teeth, fangs pushing into his swollen lips. “You can't trust him in jimseung. He doesn’t care about you the same way I–”

“Snap out of it,” you say, struggling away from him. “None of us are making it out of here if we don't work together.”

“You want him more than me?” He looks just as baleful as before, panting. “You want to make me kill him?”

“I want you to protect us,” you yell. “He’s your pack–”

“No one can take you,” he repeats, nostrils flaring as he crouches over you. “You’re mine.”

You can hear something stalking towards you from the darkness–unnoticed by Johnny in his cresting anger.

“Fine. Prove yourself and kill those things. Kill all of them,” you order, reaching mentally inward and snapping the thin thread of control you can feel keeping you from becoming your animal. His eyes blaze yellow, startled as the change begins.

It's just in time for the Panther drone to attack.

Johnny whips around, instantly more beast than himself, claws raking metal as the scent of fresh blood overtakes the perfumed air. You take the chance to run, hunted down by another of the drones bursting from the brush.

Climb, you think, stumbling towards the nearest tree. It’s only pure instinct and adrenaline that gets you up the first branch, hearing the snap of a metal jaw inches from your ankle. You cling to the limb above you with all your hybrid’s strength, unable to pull yourself higher–

Your perch dips down. For a moment you’re afraid that you’re being pulled by the awful thing snapping at your heels before you recognize the tension is in your clothing, snatched up by the back of your underdress.

It’s just in time as something explodes beneath you, heat searing your skin and nearly shaking you both out of the tree you’re being bodily swung up into.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, you lament–seized around the middle and dragged upward by clawed hands.

This time, at least, the Alpha who has captured you is still human.

Boom.

The projection in the middle of the arena is scattershot with fireworks, sparks flying and shrieking beneath the opaque grid as the returning audience rushes in to see what’s going on. Mark’s blood goes cold seeing the shadows of trees lit bright by another grenade burst, some deep fear response unlocked by the sound of bombs.

Across the box, Taeyong ducks instinctively, ears pulled back as he fights out of the circle of the other Alphas keeping him separated, his drawn face scanning the room for threats.

“They haven’t announced the match start yet, I haven’t finished my calls–” Bang stands up, only one of many whose attention is turned to the screens above the open interior of the stadium as they flash to black from displaying the usual wash of corporate advertisements.

A series of bright green digits and flashes preface the hacked signal, cohesing into one principal symbol: a circle with an unbroken horizontal line beneath it.

He knows it well–too well. The unbroken omega.

[Respected members of the Syndicate,] a modulated voice invades the speakers, stilling the room. [Your attempts to set the terms of this tribunal have revealed your greed, stupidity, and most of all–your hand.]

Footage plays of a fight he never expected to see. You and what looks to be Johnny struggling against a pair of Savannah Panthers, no weapons or resources except your claws and teeth. He’s most surprised by the sight of you rushing head-first into the fray, as if you could do anything against those nightmare creations.

Somehow, you both gain the upper hand–at least until the grenades are fired. The fight ends with a flash of green, dead and broken Zhirafa drones swallowed up by a nightmare explosion of plant-life bursting forth from the radius of the strike point.

“What the fuck is that?” Choi barks. “We didn’t clear using–”

“Kill the feed,” Duke Kim hisses, order ignored as the attache beside him struggles with his agent.

“We don’t have a way–production says they lost communication with the control crew entirely–”

[Let’s make a wager without the house having advantage. Your greatest prize is contained within the field before you, trapped with your entire illegal stockpile of biological weaponry and the Alphas you’ve consigned to die by it.]

Bang’s tablet slips from his fingers, clattering against bottles of imported liquor. Shrieks and shouts follow, as those witnessing the show realize this isn’t just entertainment.

[You have one, simple step to fulfill, to regain your investment. Proceed with the trials and execution of the son and heir of Lee Taeri, one Lee Taeyong, for his father's crimes against our kind and for the millions of innocent souls whose blood stains your Council's hands.]

[Then, and only then, will we release your so-called prize.]

Mark looks up at Taeyong, seeing genuine shock on his elder’s bruised face. The Vulpine turns to him, instinctively, shaking his head with his lips parted.

He didn’t know. It makes Mark even more angry at being left in the dark on whatever Taeyong had planned, all of it blown open with their blindness to this unanticipated weak point.

[Open the field and die with them. Alter the rules of the game and you will be subjected to the same carnage inflicted upon you as handed down in your judgment. May your punishment match the crime.]

The feed goes dark, projection still flashing with burning trees and the reports of gunfire before the hologram disappears. The arena floor is blank but for a simple reminder of the message: a taegeuk rotating on the field, under the watchful eyes of that monstrous xiezhi statue over the royal box.

A royal box, he sees, is now completely vacated.

In the strangled silence that follows the end of the message, chaos erupts. Half of the audience is fleeing, turned back at the door by security guards waiting for an order. Mark forgets himself to move towards his cousin, crowded back by the hulking guards that had been assigned to keep him seated as the clan Elders dealt with the ongoing crisis.

“The entire control suite is offline,” Kim stutters. “No in or out, we’re working on retaking the signal but–”

“Sokolov wants the demonstration canceled or they pull sponsorship,” Park says. “We need to make sure nothing happens to the . . .”

He drifts off as he realizes what’s happening beside him, Taeyong moving across the crowded space to close on Mark with the same aggression they’d been separated from earlier.

“Did you know they’d take her?” he accuses, tail bristling behind him.

“What, no?!” Mark yells.

“It was your recruits who last had her. And this–”

One small gesture at the screen burnt with a symbol of a movement his father hadn’t started but had been responsible for in the end–the very same reason Fourth Prince had faced execution when the Exodus forces were brought to heel.

North and south, all over again, he realizes, far too late. This time he’s tight in the clutches of the enemy, no ally in sight with Haechan and Taeil taking care of the wounded and Yuta investigating the crime.

“This is a set-up,” he argues. “We have to find them first, make sure they can get out without being kill–”

“We finish this,” Taeyong says, rounding on the other members of the Syndicate Council. “Tell Key we can expedite the final match.”

He doesn’t understand this game Taeyong is playing, and doesn't even think he’s in control of it with how shaken the Vulpine looks before he turns his back on him.

“Where did you take our enforcers?” Mark’s words are for Duke Kim, who’s leaving the box as if he doesn’t want to see the outcome, scurrying away from his responsibilities as always. “We need to get down there before they try to get out–”

“No. You come with us,” Choi says, raising a flashy chrome pistol at Mark’s face. Park and the others don’t move to stop him, Taeyong regarding him over his shoulder with a dismissive look.

“We proceed with the trials, cousin,” Taeyong says, expression grim, and resigned. “We’ll let the heavens decide which of us deserves to walk out of here alive.”

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

#agtbtb #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 omegaverse

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ratinayellowbandana · 5 months

Note

Hi!! I love your fics so much, and was hoping you could possibly do these prompts (or combine them!):

Hug

"You're safe here, I promise."

Thank you!! And no stress if you don't do this particular prompt, I'm just happy to read anything you write ❤️

ok so.. this ask if from September, but we're going to ignore that because I finally got around to filling it (with a slight variation). so thanks so much for your patience on that one. tossing my ep. 78 brainrot into the ring with everyone else's. here's a canon-divergent take on laudna bolting after the ziggurat and recounting old memories.

what if she retreated to the old laboratory instead of the woods?

cw: mentions of torture (canonical)

length: 1431 words

also on ao3

~~~

“Laudna, sweetheart?”

Imogen’s voice is a distant echo, resounding off the stone walls that warp and twist her words. She cannot see Imogen, cannot let Imogen see her. The veil that creeps over her face flickers in and out of existence, the phantom pressure of the choker heavy around her throat. Laudna bites back a low whine in the darkness. Shadows congeal around her feet, cloaking her from Imogen’s searching eyes.

“Are you in here?” The question fades into heavy silence. The broken bookshelves and shattered vials give her no reply.

Imogen had known just where to look, her clever girl. Laudna’s feet, guided by Delilah’s sweet whispers, had returned her unbidden to the laboratory. The scent of dried blood lingers in the groutwork. The metal table lies on its side, overturned during their spat with the castle’s vengeful spirits, its shackles dangling loose.

Laudna curls against the furthest wall, her form lengthening, cracking, shifting into something more. The thrumming in her chest urges her to lash out with cruel talons and jagged teeth. To tear and shred and protect until no one would dare cross her again. To snarl and fight until she is left alone once more.

Her mama always said she was too trusting. Too gullible. It would get her into trouble. Trusting the wrong people. Lady Briarwood had been welcoming, so accommodating in her beautiful castle. She had seen something special in the farmgirl from the outskirts of the Parchwood. Her invitation had been a gift from the gods. The promise of private tutelage lured a girl below the city.

Flashes of memory, scattered as fallen leaves, reveal racks of knives beside the door. The bite of iron into famine-thinned wrists. A throat screamed raw. Lady Briarwood’s traitorous sneer.

“Laudna?”

The tunnels promised safety. It was easy to lose herself among the twists and turns. Carving a nook for herself was simple enough. A few well-placed crates disguised a forgotten passageway. She snuck up to the castle kitchens for castaway scraps. Pupils grew accustomed to the dark. Discarded trash became the foundation of her odd collection of possessions. Chipped bottles and forgotten tokens decorated her first home.

They searched below the city for any traces of the Briarwoods’ nefarious projects. Laudna was flushed out of hiding when an unsuspecting guard stumbled across her enclave.

Laudna?

The sting of betrayal sits fresh on her tongue.

The spell is workin’, so you gotta be close.

Her fingers stretch and claw at her hair. The fear of waking up alone again. A bed of moss tucked into broad tree roots.

She wants to bite and mangle and–

Everyone leaves. True colors will show; it’s only a matter of time. They’ll learn what she is. They always do.

Please don’t run from me.

Purple light dances overhead, casting Imogen in a familiar glow.

“Where are you?”

Laudna hunches into herself, a growl bubbling in her chest.

“Stay away,” she spits, hating the way the words fall at her feet.

Imogen turns in the direction of her voice, eyes flitting over the swath of shadow hiding Laudna’s quivering shape.

“If you really want me to go, I’ll go,” she says simply, ignoring the high notes of fear in Laudna’s voice.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“But I know you.” Imogen sighs, says softly, “Will you let me see you?”

“Her influence is stronger here,” Laudna rasps.

Imogen stiffens. “That’s alright. We’ll fight her off together if we have to.” Laudna doesn’t miss the barely concealed rage hidden beneath a layer of steely nonchalance Laudna suspects isn’t solely for her benefit.

“She wants me to kill him and take the shard.”

“She can’t have it.”

“She needs it,” Laudna whispers, “and I’m afraid of what she’ll do to get her way.” She drops the shroud of darkness. “She always gets her way.” A broken sob tears from her throat.

Imogen rushes forward, stopping short two paces away. “Oh, honey, can I–” she reaches out her hand, and Laudna nods. Imogen collapses at her side, taking Laudna into her arms. Laudna clings to her, trembling in the warm glow of Imogen’s lights.

“I hate it here,” Laudna rushes. “I hate this city, I hate this fucking castle, I hate the gods-damned moon.” It bursts out of her in a wave as Imogen caresses her hair with gentle, practiced hands. “I hate Ashton,” she confesses through a choked cry, “I hate them, Imogen. Why would he betray us?”

“‘Cause he’s a dumbass,” Imogen replies. “A dumbass who doesn’t think about the consequences of their actions and hurts everyone around them ‘cause he thinks we don’t care.”

“He hurt Fearne. And he hurt you, and he hurt me–”

“Yeah, they did. And I’m fuckin’ pissed at ‘em ‘cause of it, but I don’t hate him.” She sounds weary and world-worn.

Silence falls between them, save the dripping of a distant pipe.

Laudna speaks quietly. “She– she tortured me here, you know?” She feels Imogen tense beneath her, her hand faltering its steady course through Laudna’s hair before recovering once more. “I don’t… I don’t remember most of it. Probably for the best, really. Awful business, torture. I’ve heard it’s terribly messy.” Imogen isn’t smiling, and Laudna drops her attempt at lightheartedness. “I’m sorry. I don’t– I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Being in this room, I suppose–”

“In this room?” Imogen realizes, horrified. Her head swivels, taking in the overturned table, the broken beakers, the discoloration of the floor. “I didn’t realize– gods, Laudna, you never… We should go–” She moves to stand, but Laudna stops her. “She wanted to remind me, I think, of what she’s capable of.”

“You’re safe now. I promise.” Imogen murmurs fiercely, pressing her lips to the crown of Laudna’s head.

“My ears,” Laudna continues, because Imogen knows this story. “She promised me lessons. Said I would be able to hear her better with my ears just so.” A dry laugh escapes. “I suppose she was right.”

There is something about being here, in the room of her nightmares, with another living person. With Imogen, who grips her tighter, holds her a little closer. Who does not flinch away, but extends herself as a comfort.

“I don’t think you’d have liked me when I returned the first time.” Laudna swallows. “I was… lost, callous. I hurt people.”

“You did what you needed to survive.”

Laudna shakes her head. “I was angry and bitter. I fought recklessly and killed without thinking. Not every shack I came across was abandoned, Imogen. And when Delilah began her meddling… I felt it was justice for the harm done to me.”

Laudna sits up, leans away from Imogen and twists her fingers around themselves.

“There was a little girl once. She was kind to me, the way young children are with their imaginary friends.” She smiles fondly at the memory. “I do love children… I loved her, I think. She snuck me kitchen scraps and apples, and we would play games into the twilight hours before she had to return home.” Laudna’s face falls. “One day, she brought her parents to meet her spooky friend in the barn. They were not so kind to me.” She rubs self-consciously at a spot on her hip. “They attacked me, and I–” She swallows thickly. “I killed them.”

Another sob resurfaces.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it. They were shouting at me, and then I was shifting back into my body, and the little girl was crying. And I ran.” She exhales a shaky breath. “I betrayed her trust. I’m no better than Ashton or Delilah or–”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Imogen says softly. “Any of it. Then or now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Imogen holds out her arms again, and Laudna falls into them.

“You did what you needed to survive,” Imogen repeats. “We’ve all done things we can’t take back. All we can do is move forward and strive to be better.”

“I don’t hate Ashton,” Laudna whispers into the fabric of Imogen’s dress.

“I know, Laud,” Imogen murmurs, “I don’t either.”

They sit in the ransacked laboratory until the last of Laudna’s cries subside, and Imogen’s back is sore from leaning against the wall at an awkward angle.

“What do you say we go find the others?” Imogen asks gently.

Laudna nods and gets to her feet, dabbing ichor from her eyes. Imogen squeezes her hand.

Together, they climb the stairs of the hidden passageway behind the bookcase and do not look back.

#not totally sure what this is #[gestures vaguely]#but it was sitting in the brain and needed to come out #fic #my fic #imodna fic #imogen temult #laudna #critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr3 #imodna fanfiction #imodna #delilah briarwood #ask #anon #prompt fill

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conivolos · 6 months

Text

hey look a mounders fic

i wrote this before ep 2 came out so its not canon compliant for it. hope you enjoy:)

ao3 link

-----

Your secret is…

Pearl sucks in a breath, lowering her pickaxe from the vein of iron she was mining.

3…

The secrets had been at the back of her mind since this session had started.

2…

And the allure of having proper armour and tools had gotten her to staircase down almost immediately.

1…

The book rests safely in her hands, and the sound of a creeper sizzle reaches her ears.

She throws up her shield just in time, almost dropping the book in the process. It blocks the creeper for the most part, the resounding explosion only managing singe the tips of her hair.

“Okay, this isn’t safe,” she says, turning around before any more mobs can clamber their way over to her. She hastily knocks a hole into the cave wall and boxes herself in, torch in hand, book clutched to her chest.

Pearl leans her back against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a couple steadying breaths, the fire of the torch flickering with the intensity of them.

After a beat or two, she huffs, releasing her hold on the book slightly, “Better get this over and done with,” she murmurs, taking one final breath and opening the book.

Get at least three people to stay within five blocks of each other for six minutes.

Pearl frowns at the page. It's a harder task than last week, but that's at least to be expected.

And, well, she does know at least three other people. Two of which are Mumbo and Bdubs, her dear friends who conveniently live beside her.

Keeping the time might be a bit tricky, but Bdubs surely has a clock at this point, either gifted or crafted, so that'll make it a bit easier.

Pearl grins, stuffing the book into her jacket pocket, an idea steadily forming in her mind; it should be easy enough.

She takes out her pick again and busts through the cave wall, hightailing it back to the stripmine before the shadows throw any more mobs at her.

She barely has time to shake out dust and bits of rock from her hair before Mailbox jumps up to greet her, running over from where he was told to sit and eagerly circling her legs, tail wagging. Pearl smiles, patting his head and scratching behind his ears.

They make their way out of Pearl’s mound and across the plains, and Pearl casts a weary glare to the storm clouds gathering somewhere in the badlands, and, thumbing the book in her pocket, hops up to Mumbo’s mound, Mailbox at her heels.

As silently as she can, she flicks up his chimney trapdoor and crawls in, Mailbox scrunching up behind her.

Mumbo’s back is to them when Pearl spots him, intently reading what's probably his secret, scratching at his head.

“You reading your secret, Mumbo?” Pearl asks after a second, resting her head on a hand, and resisting the urge to kick her feet.

Mumbo jumps about sky-high, and Pearl swears he almost hits his head on his wall, whipping around to look at her, only to miss completely and stare out his windows in bewilderment, snapping his book shut. “Pearl?” he asks, “Where are you?!”

Pearl cackles and shimmies a bit further into his house, just enough so that Mumbo can properly see her face. And Mailbox apparently takes this as an opportunity to try to squeeze his way past Pearl, only to get stuck pretty much immediately, giving up with a huff and tucking his face into the crook of her elbow.

Pearl blinks at him, then turns back to Mumbo, who’s looking less confused and more giggly.

Pearl grins, “Whatcha up to Mumbo?”

Mumbo gives a shaky laugh, “Can’t tell ya, it's a secret. You know this, Pearl!”

Pearl sticks out her tongue at him, and Mailbox does the same. “Mumbo. I have an idea.” Pearl starts and Mumbo raises an eyebrow. “We should go cloud watching before the rain gets here.”

Mumbo glances out his window at, Pearl guesses, distant rolling thunder clouds, if she correctly remembers where badlands is from here.

“Bit of an odd thing for you to suggest, huh Pearl?” he says, turning back to her, voice close to laughter. “Is this part of your task?”

Pearl sputters. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Mumbo,” she shoots back, steadfastly dismissing the panic that rises up in her chest.

“If we’re going cloud watching, let's at least try to get Bdubs in on it too,” he says, attempting to shoe her out of the chimney.

“That's the plan!” Pearl says, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She crawls back out of the chimney and grabs tight to Mumbo’s hand as soon as she can, pulling him along to Bdubs’.

Pearl hops up to Bdubs’ doorstep, Mumbo trailing behind her. “Bdubs!!!” she shouts, knocking loudly on his trapdoor door.

There's the prolonged sounds of Bdubs shouting in surprise, and some clattering before it goes silent once more.

“Oh my goodness.” Mumbo laughs into his hand.

“Bdubs! You’re on your roof!”

Bdubs makes some more grumbling sounds before he appears, leaning over the cobble foundation to glare at his neighbours, mostly Pearl, Mumbo not so much. “Yes, yes. What do you want?” he snaps.

“We’re going to go cloud watching before the storm gets here,” she explains, gesturing over to the badlands, “Mumbo and I thought you’d like to join us!”

“Yeah, Bdubs, come stare at the sky with us.” Mumbo adds.

Bdubs’ frown intensifies before it lets up, although his eyes narrow in suspicion, “...Alright, I'll come with you.”

Pearl whoops as Bdubs clambers down, who lands with a thud on the granite. Pearl grabs his hand without hesitation, pulling the both of them along, and Mailbox bounds happily after them.

They stumble down Bdubs’ mound, evidently getting close to taking possible hearts of damage at Mumbo and Bdubs’ loud protests, but Pearl remains indifferent.

Pearl drags them up onto her mound and unceremoniously flops onto the grass, pulling the both of them down with her. They both yelp as they fall, and Bdubs glares at Pearl, who only giggles, while Mumbo winces and rubs at the back of his head.

Mailbox trudges over them all, making them wheeze, before he settles begrudgingly next to Pearl.

“So…” Mumbo starts after a moment, leaning back into the grass, “We just look at the clouds and say what we think they look like?”

Pearl nods, a hand resting on Mailbox’s head, “Yup!”

They laugh and do just that, Pearl’s task slowly drifting out of her mind as she goofs off with her two friends and—oh god, she counts as a person too, right?

Pearl's eyes widen, oblivious to whatever Mumbo and Bdubs are chatting about. Her whole entire plan is thrown out the window if They don’t count her as one of the people—

“What’re you guys doing?”

“Hey, Joel!” Bdubs says, while Mumbo raises a hand in greeting.

“We’re doing some lovely cloud watching!” Pearl answers, putting on a fake smile, and feeling more than seeing as Mailbox jumps up to bother Joel, and Joel gives her an unimpressed look, absently scratching Mailbox behind the ears.

“Pearl forced us to do it.” Bdubs blurts out, and Mumbo chokes out a laugh.

“I didn’t force ya to do anything!” Pearl defends.

“Sit down with us, Joel,” Mumbo says over the sounds of his neighbours’ bickering, patting the patch of grass next to him.

“For Pearl’s sake,” Bdubs adds after a beat.

“Hey.”

Joel snorts, “No thanks.”

Pearl sucks in a breath and tries valiantly to pretend that she didn’t.

And, luckily he lingers for a while more, and Pearl tries her hardest to not look too desperate. Joel shuffles his feet before relenting, silently and abruptly going to lie down next to Mumbo.

Pearl feels a wave of relief wash over her, letting out a soft sigh. Bdubs casts her a strange look and she simply sticks out her tongue at him.

A soft breeze washes over them, it flits through the grass, tousling their clothes and hair, bringing with it the wispy smell of rain. Mailbox tries to take a bite out of it, and they all huff a laugh at that.

“That one looks like a heart,” Pearl says eventually, breaking the soft silence, pointing up to a cloud that, truthfully, doesn't look all that much like a heart. More like a smashed apple.

“I see a clock,” Bdubs declares, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

“Spyglass and… an end crystal?” Mumbo adds, gesturing to another few and laughing, “goodness, these are some weird clouds.”

“A pack of dogs,” Joel says and Pearl agrees, although he doesn’t see the tower next to them.

“Hey, these ones look just like us,” Pearl points out. The four bits of cloud, one larger than the rest, and two of the smaller ones with box-like shapes atop them, do, in fact, look like their retrospective counterparts.

They keep pointing out shapes in the clouds, and Pearl waits until she knows it's been more than six minutes, until shes pushing ten.

She could run over to the secret keeper without giving an explanation, cackling all the while, and it would be worth it just to see the looks on her friends’ faces.

Or, she could just stay. Stay with her friends lying next to her in the grass. Stay with Mailbox sleeping in between them. Stay with grass in her hair and a forgotten book in her jacket pocket.

Yeah, she smiles, the smell of rain whisking past them once more, Joel and Bdubs laugh at something Mumbo said. She reckons she’ll stay, at least for a while.

#coni fics #the mounders #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #bdoubleo100 #joel smallishbeans #secret life smp #secret life #yay its out!! a couple of days after i thought it would but whatever akdjfhasd

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